Second Chances Read Free

But when she informed Lydia and asked how best to tell her daed , she quickly
learned that her admiration for Freman was not shared by others. How could she defy
the advice of her mother’s best friend or the wishes of her own father?
    He focused on the reins of the horse and seemed to contemplate her proclamation.
“I see,” he finally said. “I know you think you must wait until you turn eighteen,
Anna. So, if we must wait until spring . . . ” He let the sentence linger between
them.
    “Freman, spring isn’t the answer.”
    “I know it’s unusual, but more young couples are doing that these days,” he responded.
    When he glanced at her, she looked away. “It’s not that I cannot marry you in the
spring,” she whispered. “It’s that I cannot marry you ever.”
    She saw his hands tighten on the reins, the only indication that he had heard her
words. The horse sensed the tension and slowed its pace. A car approached from the
other direction and slowed down as it passed them. When the noise of the engine faded,
he finally asked the one question she had not wanted to answer. “Why?”
    How could she explain it to him? For three nights, she had barely slept as she lay
awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling as she tried to think of the words that
might possibly explain her reasons.
    “It’s . . . it’s my family,” she admitted. “Lydia said Daed would not approve of
our marriage.”
    The muscles tightened along his jawline. “Not approve of our marriage,” he repeated.
She knew that he wasn’t asking for clarification. Instead, he was speaking out loud
as if in disbelief of her words. “That doesn’t make sense, Anna.”
    “You aren’t established yet,” she said softly.
    “But I will be established, Anna. You know that.”
    And she did know that. He was hard-working. Success would come his way; of that,
she had no doubt. He was also a good man, the first one to offer assistance to those
in need. Still, she had hoped that he would simply accept that explanation and not
inquire further into the reasons behind her decision.
    “There is something else, Anna,” he said, and when he looked at her, she lowered
her eyes and stared at her feet on the floorboard of the buggy. “What is the real
objection to our marriage?”
    She couldn’t lift her eyes to look at him, but she knew that he needed to know the
truth. “It’s . . . it’s your background, Freman.”
    At this, he laughed haughtily. “My background?”
    “Lydia says Daed won’t approve because you intend to pursue carpentry.”
    Another mirthless laugh. “And he thinks that is not a viable profession?” He paused
for a moment. The silence in the buggy was broken only by the gentle rhythm of the
horse’s hooves on the road and the gentle hum of the buggy wheels. She knew that
he was thinking, and considering how smart he was, he was connecting the pieces
to the puzzle. “Is this because my family needed help from the g ’ may ?”
    She didn’t dare respond.
    “That was years ago!”
    How could she explain that her father, William Eicher, would never allow one of his
daughters to marry into the Whittmores, a family that had been debt-ridden and sought
financial assistance from their church district, not just once but twice? While such
shameful antipathy coming from a conservative Amish man defied logic, Anna also
knew that it was the truth, as her father had often spoken disparagingly of the Whittmores
and seemed somewhat cold in his interactions with Freman. Lydia prevailed upon Anna
to see that, whether or not she agreed with her father, she would have to make a
choice: either Freman’s love or her father’s approval. Despite her own feelings toward
Freman, Anna was persuaded that Lydia and her father knew best and, as such, had
decided accordingly.
    Clearly, her silence explained everything. Still unable to look at him, she knew
that he would not try to argue his case any further. He was a man of strong resolve;
it was one of