The grant for his position had fallen through. No grant, no funding. No funding, no job. No job, no reason for him to be here. No reason for him to be here, no chance to build a future with Hannah.
Tucking the phone back into his pocket, Gabe chided himself for thinking of the situation only from his perspective. He’d been brought in as a paid employee to assist the local volunteer fire department with EMS needs. The local department was very good, but with more residents working outside of the district, along with other factors, the number of volunteers had decreased. As over fifty percent of service calls were for EMS, Gabe’s involvement greatly reduced the stress on the diminished squad. Due to his training, he could also provide more advanced emergency care. Miller’s Creek would be affected by the loss of Gabe’s contributions to the community. The emergency needs of the area were more important than his personal issues.
Gabe wanted to be completely altruistic, but the progress he’d been making with a local EMS service wasn’t running through his mind as he stared across the apartment he’d finally finished moving into. We’ve come so far. Last night at the Schrocks’, I know she felt what I felt. That we could have something precious and rare.
Now the only things precious and rare were the few days he had left in Miller’s Creek. He was going to be paid through the end of the month. The administrator had assured him they’d apply for another grant, but it might take months before it went through. And although he was a careful money manager, he wasn’t in a position to go without a job. Gabe shoved himself up from the couch. He shouldn’t be surprised. Halfway through the interview process, the administration that’d hired him had become evasive with some of his questions. But he’d been so thrilled to find a job in Miller’s Creek he hadn’t noticed their ambiguity. When he’d been advised to report to someone else before he’d even moved into the area, he’d shrugged it off, more focused on the challenge of setting up the program than caring who his supervisor was.
Gabe stalked to the window, seeing not the view outside it, but the blue curtains that surrounded the wooden frame. Well, he had a few weeks left. A few weeks to complete the training he’d already started. Reaching out, he slid a finger down the fabric. A few short weeks to convince the woman he’d never stopped loving that he was worth all she’d have to give up to be with him.
* * *
The bolt of fabric dropped with a thud to the floor. Cindy Borders and the other Englisch customer who’d been talking at the counter looked over to Hannah at the sound.
“Are you all right?”
“Ja,” Hannah mumbled, hastening to pick up the dark green material and set it on the counter. “It slipped through my fingers.”
As Gabe was going to, if what the women were discussing was true.
“The grant fell through? We’re losing our new EMS service?” She swallowed as she unrolled material from the bolt to stretch it across the ruler embedded in the counter’s surface. Would there be any reason for Gabe to stay in the area if the grant was lost?
“Yes. A shame, isn’t it? We were so excited for the town to have a program established. Even if they leave right away from a neighboring area, it still takes extra time to arrive. And when the weather gets bad out, it takes even longer.” The Englisch woman who’d found Hannah’s dog shook her head.
The other woman nodded. “Hate to think of what would’ve happened to the Winston boy without the young man that’s been working in the area.” She smiled at Hannah. “And of course, the Amish men that pulled him from the pond.”
“A yard and a half of this fabric?” Hannah gave her a small smile in return. She picked up the scissors, her thoughts not on the green material, but on the young man just mentioned.
“Yes, please.” Mrs. Borders sighed. “Too bad the whole community won’t do something like the Amish do.” Cocking her head, she regarded Hannah. “Don’t you do different types of fundraisers to help cover medical costs and other things for your members? If I recall correctly, there was a whole slew of events before the Amish school was built some years back. And what is it I read about in some Amish communities?” Her forehead furrowed like a freshly plowed field. “Mud sales?”
It was true. Hannah recalled the numerous bake sales, pancake breakfasts and BBQ dinners held to raise money for the local teacher’s salary and other school expenses. A mud sale, an auction usually held in the spring when the footing was soggy, hence the name, was a traditional way some Amish districts raised money for their volunteer fire departments.
“Ja.” Folding the now-cut material and setting the rewrapped bolt on the table behind her, she reached for the next color in the stack. “How much of this one?”
“Half a yard. Hopefully it will look like it’s supposed to when I’m done. I don’t have near the talent displayed in your shop.” Mrs. Borders’s attention rested on the quilt hung on the wall behind where Hannah worked, before straying to the others that decorated the borders of the room. “These are so beautiful. If something like a quilt auction were held, I’d be sitting in the front row, spending much more than my husband would like.” She gently elbowed the woman beside her. “Or knows about.”
“I tell mine it’s worth it as they serve a dual purpose. It’s a feast for the eyes and warmth for the toes. And I don’t complain about the money he spends on fishing gear.”
Mrs. Borders smiled conspiratorially. “Just think of the money an auction selling both could raise. With something like that, we might not even need a grant in order to keep the EMS service.”
The women’s conversation drifted to other topics as they paid for their purchases and left the store, but Hannah’s thoughts lingered on what they’d said. While restocking the fabric bolts, her eyes drifted around the shop as the woman’s had earlier, touching on each quilt. She had a good idea of what the Englisch would pay for a quilt. Amish, too, if the occasion was right. Would they see saving the EMS service for the community at large as a worthwhile cause? Her gaze lifted from the walls to the ceiling overhead. If they determined it was, could it happen in time to keep Gabe from leaving?
Winding her way through the rows back to the counter, Hannah pondered who she knew had recently completed quilts or nearly finished works-in-progress. And wondered if they could be convinced to part with them.
It might not be possible. But, as her employer had said, much is lost for want of asking. Hannah knew just the place to start. If she had the courage.
* * *
Although her eyes were on the scrolling stitch in front of her, Hannah’s ears were tuned to the chatter about the room. A considerable portion of the female Amish community, among them her mamm and younger schweschder, bordered the quilt frame stretched across the large room. Little girls in kapps and dresses played beneath its surface, including her niece, Lily. Hannah could hear the girl’s infectious giggle drift up from under the center of the friendship star design.
Outwardly calm in appearance, Hannah’s heart was beating so fast her hand trembled, making it a struggle to keep her normally precise stitches even. Since she’d heard the news yesterday about the grant, she’d known something needed to be done about the situation. Someone needed to step up. If not, the community would lose a resource that had already proven valuable. And she’d lose... Hannah glanced at the faces of the women lined along the borders of the quilt. Faces of women her age and older. Women she’d been raised to respect. A lifestyle she’d been raised to respect. A lifestyle in which she’d never caused a ripple.
Bowing her head to the fabric in front of her again, Hannah pressed her lips together. This isn’t about me. It’s about what’s best for the community. Who knows who might need emergency care at some critical time? Someone should do something.
Her thread broke with a quiet pop. Leaning back from the framed material, Hannah wondered if maybe that was a gut thing, as her stitches today were lopsided and inconsistent. She flinched imperceptibly when a
young girl instantly appeared beside her and handed her another threaded needle. Too old to play under the quilt and too young to take her place along its edge, the girl was one of a handful who contributed to quilting by threading needles for the older women while they sewed. Taking the needle, Hannah smiled at the earnest young face. It was a good thing the girl had threaded it because her own hands were shaking so much she couldn’t have found the eye were it the size of a hay-mow door. Someone needs to do something. I need to do something.
But doing so meant making waves when she never had before.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she also drew a puzzled look from the young girl beside her. Hannah dropped her gaze to the thin pointed metal pinched between their fingers. The most elaborate quilt couldn’t come together without the simple act of threading a needle. Not a big step, but one that had to happen in order for bigger things to come together. To save the extended emergency service program, and keep Gabe in the area, a first step needed to be taken. Could she thread that needle?
Much is lost for want of asking.
Her throat felt like it was coated with church spread. Hannah cleared it. When the voices around the room dropped one by one, she looked up to find herself the center of attention. Her thimbled finger clattered against the quilt frame. She took strength from Socks’s warm weight, where the collie lay against her ankles.
Reaching forward with the newly threaded needle, Hannah pushed it into the fabric. “I was talking with Ben Raber the other day. Asked him if he’d warmed up yet from going into the pond after the Englisch boy. He said he’d only recently stopped shivering.” Hannah knew she’d have to rip out any stitches she was inflicting on the quilt in front of her, but she continued poking her needle through the fabric. “He said he’d heard the boy had made a complete recovery, thanks be to Gott. It amazed him, because when he pulled the boy out, there was no sign of life. Gut thing we had emergency service close.”
“The Englisch need to take care of their own.” The mutter came from the far end of the quilt. Although her attention remained unseeing on the quilt before her, Hannah took a deep breath and pitched her voice a little higher. “It could’ve easily been an Amish boy that went in. I know my brieder have skated on that pond before. It seems the ice wasn’t the only thing that broke through. I heard the grant supporting local EMS did, as well. It would be a shame to lose the service now when we know it can save lives.”
Murmurs rose from around the room. Due to the general buzz, Hannah couldn’t tell if the comments were pro or con. She closed her eyes. An ally would be wunderbar about now. If only Ruth had been here, she wouldn’t have hesitated to speak up. But her friend was still at home, getting acquainted with her new dochder. Hannah stabbed her finger with the needle when a voice cut through the murmurs.
“Samuel said it’s a real benefit having someone local teach the required training needed for volunteer firefighters. It saves the men time when taking the classes. Before, they had to hire drivers to take them out of the county. Classes are more economical, too, with a local trainer.”
Hannah glanced up to see her sister’s impish smile. Gail’s comment had been both sly and convincing. Amish women loved nothing more than a bargain.
Comments flowed around the room like creeks after a spring thaw.
“Well, there’s no money for it now.”
“Since when has the current lack of funds stopped a Plain community from doing what was needed? Didn’t we raise money to expand the school?”
“We all know how dangerous farmwork can be. Faster arrival from local care could save a life, or a limb.” The voice was elderly and tinged with experience.
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the giggles and murmurs from the children under the quilt. All the women at its edges knew a friend or relative who’d been affected by some type of farming accident.
“What type of fundraiser are you thinking?”
As Hannah opened her mouth to respond, another voice forestalled her.
“You just want to keep this particular man here.” Even the chatter under the quilt faded as Ruby Weaver’s voice cut through the room. All faces turned toward the bishop’s wife. Some with agreeing nods and sharp looks back toward Hannah. Concentrating on keeping a flush from rising in her cheeks, Hannah glanced around the quilt’s border, searching for friendly faces before she faced the pale blue eyes on the far end of the patterned material. She was surprised at the number of frowning expressions she saw. Frowning at whom? Her or the bishop’s wife? When Gail’s was one of them, Hannah grasped a sliver of hope that they weren’t all directed at her.
“I don’t care who provides the service, I just think there will be times we wished we had it, and in those times it’ll be too late for whoever is affected.” Hannah knew she spoke the truth. But would she be willing to push past her reluctance to cause ripples in the community if Gabe wasn’t involved?
“I’ll ask again,” prompted a voice across the room. “What type of fundraiser do you propose?”
Hannah could feel her pulse beating at the sides of her throat. She swallowed. “Well, many communities do mud sales to support their volunteer fire departments. This is something of an extension of that. So I was thinking we could arrange one for Miller’s Creek.”
“Does that mean you’re going to organize it?” From Ruby, it sounded like an accusation.
Hannah’s stomach hollowed at the question. It wasn’t reluctance to tackle the amount of work in the project that flashed through her. But she’d already stepped out of her comfort zone. The tight-lipped woman across the quilt’s friendship star design was probably going to be her future mother-in-law. One who was already unhappy with her. Should Hannah cause even more discord? She recalled how Ruby Weaver had been instrumental in driving Gail from the community. Not just once, but nearly again.
Should she continue on this path? This project idea was more Hannah’s will than the will of the community. Hannah had always obeyed what was best for the district. She darted a glance toward her mamm, working beside Gail on the opposite end of the quilt. Willa Lapp met her gaze with a small smile. Hannah relaxed. She glanced down at her hands, poised above the fabric. Fabric that wasn’t useful if it remained on a bolt. Unless someone began working with it, it couldn’t fulfill its purpose. What if it was Gott’s will that she do this? Just because it was what she wanted, did that mean it wasn’t His wish, as well? Had He put the two Englisch women in the shop to talk about the topic?
The attention in the room was all on her. Hannah quickly searched for any nudging of self-will and found a snippet of peace instead.
She nodded. “Ja. I am. I propose we hold an auction. Any objections if we start with this quilt? I’m sure that Barbara at the shop would donate to the cause, as well. What else can we provide to raise money for this project?” She made eye contact with each woman around the room, although it was difficult to hold Ruby Weaver’s stony gaze. “And I’m counting on you to bring other items, as well.”
* * *
Hannah released Daisy from where the mare had been tied to the post. She’d done it. And she’d survived. After some initial reluctance, and with furtive glances toward the bishop’s wife after every positive comment, an excited buzz had generated regarding the project.
“We’ll show the Englisch how a fundraiser is done.” Hannah had overheard the comments of a gray-haired stitcher a few seats down the quilt’s border.
“Hush now, Waneta. That’s hochmut,” her neighbor had chided, but it’d been said with a conspirator’s smile.
The project was launched. Now she had much work ahead to manage a successful execution.
Hannah’s mouth was tired from the effort of keeping a smile on it for the past few hours. An initial grin had risen from the ladies growing enthusiasm, but she’d had to prop it up several times to encourage and persuade participants. And wear it as armor against Ruby Wea
ver’s undisguised disapproval. When it was finally time to wrap up for the day, after polite goodbyes, Hannah had been one of the first out the door.
She felt guilty for wanting to escape. Although they’d come together, her mamm was catching a ride home with a neighbor while Hannah went into town to grab some groceries from the Bent ’N Dent. Hannah was looking forward to a few moments alone, except for Daisy and the clip-clop of her hooves on the road, to gather her thoughts.
Sighing, she stroked a hand down the mare’s winter-coated neck. Had she done the right thing? She’d always striven to abandon her will for Gott’s. Was this His? Or hers? While some of the women had smiled benevolently as she’d left, assuming her motives were altruistic for the community, Hannah knew better. Trailing a hand along Daisy’s side as she walked back to the buggy, she winced. Ruby Weaver had been right. Hannah wouldn’t have even thought to raise funds if Gabe hadn’t been involved.
“Well, sister. It’s not like you to make waves. I always thought that was my role.” At the sound of Gail’s voice, Hannah turned to see her sister approaching, hand in hand with a skipping Lily. “You were more of a ‘one who rows the boat seldom has time to rock it’ type.”
Hannah smiled at the old Amish saying. “Maybe I learned from you.”
“Ach, forgive me for that. But if that’s the case, you handle it with much more grace than I ever did.”
Hannah knelt to smooth her niece’s kapp over the little girl’s blond hair. “What’s the saying about honey versus vinegar?”
“I don’t think it’s flies you want to catch. I think it’s a handsome Mennonite man I’ve seen around town.”
Her Forbidden Amish Love Page 9
