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Creative Non-FictionThis piece won Third Place in a Byline contest. A GUT GIRLSharon Tabor Warren Anna Mary as a young woman, circa 1904. Anna and AnneMarie have much in common. In contrast to the tapping of the tree, the wooden rocker creaked a monotonous rhythm near the corner of the big wooden table. The bulk of AnneMarie's mother filled the chair to overflowing, extra chins rested on her ample bosom. Her idle hands plucked at her faded cotton dress. AnneMarie felt her mother's dark eyes follow her ungainly movements as she scrubbed the worn oilcloth covering the table. She knows. I know she knows. Between the taps and creaks, AnneMarie caught the far-off whistle of the train. It was starting its ascent. If Johann was coming tonight, he would be on the train. He jumped it down in Happy Hollow and rode up the steep grade to where it cut across the back of Pa's property before entering the town of Sunland. It saved hard walking. Going home he'd walk the tracks because it wasn't safe to jump from the speeding train as it tore through Happy Hollow on the return journey. Please let him come tonight. I cannot spend another long evening with Ma badgering me about our courtship. As though the words had been said aloud, her mother commented, "Are you thinking Johann will come tonight, AnneMarie?" "I think he might. It's been a week." "That wouldn't mean a thing to Johann Proust. I do not know why he comes at all. You are certainly no catch for him and from what I hear, he cuts a wide and lively swath through several counties." AnneMarie had no words to reply. She knew she was not fair to look upon. Her hair was dark and straight, her skin chapped from days in the sun and wind helping Pa on the farm, her hands big-knuckled and raw from hours of housework done on her mother's behalf. She was a big girl, too tall to interest most men, with sharp features that would give a man's face strength and character but did little to make her attractive, especially to the opposite sex.  John Philip,who shares traits with Johann She'd noticed him as she served the platters of hot food to the harvesters during noon meals but gave him no significant thought. She never had a beau, was twenty and considered past good marrying age. If friends and neighbors had been asked, they would have said AnneMarie was a gut girl who would spend her life caring for her mother who was unable to get around well. No one ever said it was because she was too fat. Johann apparently saw something different. Six years her senior, he lived at home spoiled by his mother who viewed the wild oats he sowed through southeastern Indiana only as youthful excess. His courtship of AnneMarie Heinrich was a mystery to all, but it continued through the crisp days of autumn and into the cold days of winter. "He won't be lasting, he's like one of those horses he trades: a stallion, wild and free. No point you setting any sights on him, AnneMarie." Her mother's sharp words broke into AnneMarie's reverie. He could be blind in one eye, bald, toothless and walk with a limp and you'd say the same, Ma. You don't want anyone taking your cook, laundry woman and cleaning lady from you. You never loved me as you do Klaus, still hold me responsible for his deafness. You let a bean lay between floor boards, Klaus pried it loose and stuck it in his ear and it's my fault because I should have tended him better. And little Cristina, she was to be the daughter you'd lavish with love. But she died a baby and that was laid at my door too because I lived. "He isn't the marrying kind, everyone knows that. Better to stay single than tied to one such as him." AnneMarie found her tongue. "I'm not saying anything of marriage, Ma." "I see that look in your eye. Don't think you have me fooled, AnneMarie. Pa sees it too and he's not pleased. Johann's a slippery one. Don't you think there's any way you can catch him, it's been tried before." Her eyes looked like black beetles. "I heard about that Detwiler girl from Midland; she tried but it didn't work. Her pa married her off to one of his hired hands." "Oh, Ma, it's not like that." But it is, and we both know it. Two months and my time's not come. You don't get around, Ma, but nothing escapes you. The train whistle sounded, breaking through the heavy atmosphere of the kitchen like a plow through warm spring soil. AnneMarie edged toward the sink board with her scrubbing cloth, not wanting it to appear she was anxious to look out.The train rumbled through the back corner, vibrated the tin pan in which she'd dipped her rag. Gott im Himmell, let Johann come tonight. Let him take me from this or curse me and I'll find another way. She stared into the night but could see nothing through the window's reflection of the lamp on the table behind her.Tap, creak, tap, creak. The shelf clock joined the chorus. Tap, tick, creak, tock, tap, tick, creak, tock. Without warning, the rhythm was interrupted by a loud knock on the kitchen door * * *  Edward Louis aka Edward Wilhelm AnneMarie's parents did not join their daughter on her wedding day. Nor were they present for the christening of Edward Wilhelm when the color of hollyhocks and scent of honeysuckle filled the tiny frame church. Contact Sharon. |
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