Coffin To Lie On by Fay Risner

the fact if she'd
offered to help he'd have told her no. He believed she wasn't
able.
    Her husband worked hard and
was so proud of what he accomplished. Because he loved his wife
dearly, he was very willing to share his good fortune made from his
hard work. When she let herself think of it that way, she felt
guilty.
    In a few years, the fruit
trees grew higher than Anselm’s head. As one winter slipped away,
he said wistfully he expected he’d see the trees explode into white
blooms that spring. As he predicted, one spring morning Anselm left
the house to work in his orchard. He came running back, grabbed
Miranda by the hand. “Come vit me.”
    “ Is
something wrong?” Miranda asked.
    “ You vill see,” Anselm said, grinning at
her.
    They walked out to the
orchard. Amselm said, “Look up at dat row of plum
trees.”
    Miranda raised her head.
“Anselm, the trees are full of bloom. We will have plums this
year.” She took in a deep breath. “Smell the sweet air?”
    “ Ja, I
do. Dis iss just de start. De other fruit trees vill bloom, one
variety at a time,” Anselm said excitedly.
    Miranda hugged him. “I'm
glad the wait is over.”
    So the years passed. The
orchard produced a bounty of fruit just like Anselm wanted. The
cattle herd increased due to his saving the heifers. Anselm had
everything he had dreamed about when they left their Minnesota
home. He was content.
    One afternoon, Miranda was
rocking on the porch alone. Anselm was pruning some of the fruit
trees in the orchard. The trees had grown so large Miranda couldn't
see her husband once he walked into the orchard.
    No one came to see them
anymore. The neighbors stopped visiting. Anselm and she saw them at
church, and Anselm invited them to visit. They claimed to always be
too busy.
    Sarie Lee was busy with her
brood. As the children grew, Sarie Lee didn't have time to visit or
be visited. Miranda missed her company, but she
understood.
    She brooded about her life.
She wished she could be as content as Anselm. Her thoughts lingered
on how much better she liked her life in Minnesota.
    Over the years, she'd
received death letters from her sisters when her mother and father
passed away. She'd been right to think she'd never see them again.
No reason to return to Minnesota after they were gone even though
she could ride in comfort on a train now.
    She'd put up a front,
though it was a poor one, for her husband's sake. This hadn't been
the life she'd have picked for herself if she had a choice. Now
they had grown old and childless. When they were gone, there wasn't
anyone to leave the farm to that Anselm work-ed so hard on and
loved so much.
    The sun sank behind the
western mountain range. Miranda kept an eye out for Anselm. He
didn't come out of the orchard. It wasn’t like him not to come to
the house by supper time. Miranda couldn't imagine what was keeping
him so she went to hunt him.
    She found her husband
sprawled on the ground among his beloved pear trees. He'd died
clutching his chest.
    Edward Linder was working
next to their farm. He heard Miranda's scream and ran across his
plowed field to find out what was wrong.
    Edward helped distraught
Miranda back to the house. Once he had her quieted down, he made
the rounds of the neighborhood asking for help.
    The men hitched up Anselm's
wagon and brought his body back to the house. They carried Anselm
into the bedroom. Their wives came along to prepare the dead man’s
body for viewing in the parlor.
    As was the custom, the men
wanted to start building the coffin right away. Charlie Wright
asked Miranda where Anselm kept his hammer and saw.
    Clarence Swensen wondered
out loud if they would find plenty of nails in the shed. He could
go get some of his if need be.
    Miranda listened to the
conversation. She wiped her teary eyes on a lace edged hanky. “No
need to bother yourselves.”
    “ Ma’am,
we need to build a coffin quick like,” insisted
Edward.
    “ You
don’t have to is what I'm saying. You can