Annie Crump: The Thomas Sisters, #5

By Kathryn Spurgeon

A 1930s short story. Annie Crump still grieved the loss of her fiancé, but a tall, good-looking barber melted her heart. For some reason, he never told her about his former life. How would she manage when an ex-wife appeared and filed a lawsuit to take everything they owned?

THE THOMAS SISTERS

Each of the Thomas sisters face extreme circumstances that tests their faith. Living in Oklahoma during the 1930s Dust Bowl makes these issues more challenging.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Memory House Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jan 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781946887023

Kathryn Spurgeon

Kathryn Spurgeon, a graduate of the University of Oklahoma, is a Christian historical novelist. An award winning author, she has published hundreds of devotionals, poems, articles and short stories. She and her husband have six children and twelve grandchildren. They help international college students and make their home in Edmond, Oklahoma. Visit her website at www.kathrynspurgeon.com

Book preview

Books

by Kathryn Spurgeon

The Thomas Sister Series

Mary Bobbie, Thomas Sister #1

Sally Matilda, Thomas Sister #2

Susie May, Thomas Sister #3

Jennie Rue, Thomas Sister #4

Annie Crump, Thomas Sister #5

The Promise Series

A Promise to Break

A Promise Child

Fremont’s Promise

A Promise of Home

Jerry, Jimmy, Ted, and Fred Akin

Ann Crump Thomas Akin

Born January 22, 1895

Chapter 1

July 1935

What’s all the ruckus? My older sister, Sally Matilda, burst through the front door just as one of my five-year-old twin boys yanked a toy truck away from the other.

I threw my hands up in despair. Siblings. Why can’t my boys get along? Sometimes their devotion to one another seemed as deep as a clear water well, and other times jealousy struck kindness a blow that could make a grown woman scream.

With four boys under nine years old, chaos ruled our home. I cooked oatmeal for one and toast for another, scrubbed red dirt out of britches and washed mud off scrunched-up faces.

My sister Susie, hidden by Till who was taller than the rest of us, poked her head through the front door. Both sisters lived a few blocks away from us in this dried-up small town of Hollis, Oklahoma. What’s the problem? she asked.

This day-to-day fuss keeps me frazzled. I pushed loose hair out of my face. I can’t wait until the boys are grown enough to take care of themselves. What kind of mother was I, not wanting to pamper my boys?

Annie, you don’t mean it. Till knew more about boys than I did. Her four were older than my four. You should know by now that little boys have the energy of a longhorn bull and the common sense of a barrel of monkeys.

When my twins were born, I’d refused to look at them. Disappointment bound me like a cactus rope when my third pregnancy resulted in sons. Twin sons, no less, when I’d wanted a daughter so badly. I cried for hours. Looking back, I am ashamed of how I acted—refusing to nurse the boys for three whole days. After their birth, due to female problems which ended in an operation, I lay in bed for two months, weaker than I’ve ever been. I never quite recovered.

My four sisters and I had thirteen boys between us, a baker’s dozen, but no girls. Explaining after she had five girls in a row, our Mama informed us that girls were more precious and useful than boys and would stick with you through thick and thin. Maybe she was trying to soothe her conscience.

My sisters and I gave up on having a little girl in the family when the twins came, the last of the Thomas sister babies. Sometimes even family dreams must end.

I flopped into a chair, still feeling incapacitated, tired and worn, and I wasn’t even forty years old yet. At least, not for another few weeks.

What was I doing, pretending to be a good mother?

***

I baked bread. Till carried a pan into the kitchen, the fresh yeast aroma following her. I know how you like it.

And here’s some butter I churned, Anna Lee. Susie was the only one who called me Anna Lee. When I came into the world in 1895, I was named after the doctor who delivered me, of all monikers, Dr. John Crump. Who wants to go through life answering to Ann Crump? Nobody. My sisters changed their names so I changed mine, insisting on being called Anna Lee but Mother never took me seriously.

One of your young un’s came by my house this morning. Said your meal last night had some shortcomings. Till’s lighthearted voice meant she didn’t intend to be mean. She was right though—my cooking abilities were nonexistent.

I laughed. Burned cornbread and flavorless beans just about goosed their gander. No one ate much of anything.

I’m the youngest of five girls, and Mama used to say I grew up spoiled as a barrel of rotten taters. My parents died when I was young, and as the only child left at home, I felt abandoned with no permanent place, no parents, and nowhere to call my own. Rotten luck for a young teenager.

My older sisters took care of me, and I spent time at each one’s house, moving from here to there as I pleased. Sometimes I liked being the youngest and not having many chores to do, and sometimes I didn’t like it, especially when everyone fussed over me so much I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t cross my eyes without worry lines creasing my sisters’ faces. I never learned to cook before getting married and had learned little since. Learned little about a lot of things, I discovered.

Mostly, I learned my sisters’ issues could negatively affect me and mine.

My older sisters were by my side most of my life, and now I needed them more than a cool glass of water. One helping of my sister’s yummy chicken and dumplings or yeast bread and fresh butter would soothe anyone’s discontent.

How was I going to survive raising four rambunctious boys without help? I loved the boys to the sea and back and couldn’t understand how they had gotten so out of control.

Chapter 2

At breakfast the next morning, my husband, Tommy Akin, brought in the Hollis Post-Herald