Seasons of Sugarcreek 02. Spring's Renewal by Shelley Shepard Gray

thought. His feet were sluggish as he walked by her side to the table in the back. “Anson, we will begin studying states and capitals today. I have postcards for everyone. Please put one on each person’s desk.”
    As she’d hoped, the new assignment brought a renewed interest. Looking at the stack of bright postcards in her hands, he looked at them in wonder. “Are these real postcards?”
    “Of course they are. And even better, there’s one postcard from every one of our fifty states.”
    “Even Alaska?”
    She couldn’t resist smiling. “Even Alaska. Hawaii, too.” With a little bow, she handed them to him.
    He clutched them eagerly. “How did you get so many? Have you visited all these places?”
    “Of course not. I’ve never been farther than Columbus.”
    “Did you order them?”
    “Oh, Anson. You are such an impatient boy. Look on the other side of the top one.”
    When he flipped one over, his mouth opened in surprise. “Miss Slabaugh, this person wrote you a letter from Wyoming.”
    “Yes, he did. From Cheyenne, I believe.”
    “How do you know him?
    “Only a little bit. He’s a pen pal to me. I have some friends who passed on my postcard to him. Other places, I simply wrote a city’s chamber of commerce and they passed on my note to someone. It was exciting to see who all received my postcards.”
    “Wow.”
    “Soon, you will have a pen pal, too.”
    “From where?”
    “From whatever state you write to. I want you to pick one of the states and place that postcard on your desk.”
    “I can choose?”
    “Indeed you may. That’s your treat for getting here so early.”
    Clara pretended not to notice that Anson strode over to his desk and carefully slapped the Wyoming postcard in the very center. “Pass them out as quickly as you can, Anson,” she said. “I see that the rest of our class is on their way in.”
    With a renewed determination, he set card after card on the desks. She was just about to greet the other students when he called out.
    “Miss Slabaugh, I think my Cousin Tim fancies you.”
    Hope and embarrassment crashed into her. Struggling to keep those emotions to herself, she looked at the boy sternly. “That is not appropriate conversation for school, Anson.”
    “That is why I came early, but I was neahfich —nervous about telling you.”
    Gently, she went to his side. “You were most likely neahfich because Tim’s business is not yours to tell.”
    He shook his head. “No, that’s not why. I was just anxious to tell you. You should visit us again.”
    Hesitantly, she ventured, “Someone told me that Tim might have a sweetheart already, and that they write to each other often.”
    “Oh, they do, but Tim wasn’t too happy about receiving Ruby’s last letter.”
    So her mother’s information had been true. “I’m sure he was. Everyone enjoys getting mail,” she said brightly. “Besides, we don’t know what his mood about the letter has to do with me.” She neglected to point out the obvious, but tried to gently allude to it, just the same. “I promise you, a man like Timothy Graber would not be interested in a woman like me.”
    “But you two went walking.”
    “I know we did. But just because we went out for a walk doesn’t mean we’re anything more than friends.”
    “You sure?”
    “ Jah .” Too torn to attempt to worry about saying anything else, she turned from Anson just as a group of eight children entered in a rush, all smiles and laughter and noise. Clara greeted each child, hugged two of the little girls who ran to her, and then with a smile, directed all questions about the postcards to Anson.
    He would enjoy the attention, and their questions would prevent him from saying anything more about her and Tim. By now she was sure there never would be anything between them.
    Most likely, it had been the moonlight and fireflies that had made her even imagine anything ever could be.
     
     
    “You’re back,” Gretta and Miriam called out as soon