The Amish Quiltmaker's Unruly In-Law

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “Are you bothered by the sight of blood?”

  “Nae. I help my dat butcher a pig every year.”

  Ben found himself smiling, though he didn’t know why. He handed her the roll of gauze, then pulled the gauze pads from the gash in his leg.

  “Ach, du lieva,” Linda said, her voice thick with awe. “Does it hurt?”

  “Something wonderful.”

  “If I’d known it was as bad as all this, I would have thrown you over my shoulder and forced you into my buggy.”

  The resolve in her voice made him chuckle. “You and your whole family couldn’t lift me off the ground.”

  She looked him up and down as if trying to guess his weight. “You might be right. Muscle is denser and heavier than fat. I read that in a magazine. And you’ve got plenty of muscle to go around. Of course, before too long you’re going to waste away from the cigarettes. Mark my words.”

  Ben ignored her little lecture on smoking. He’d heard it all and more from his parents.

  She hunched over to get a better look at his leg. “You got stitches.”

  “Jah. Esther gave them to me.”

  Linda caught her breath. “Esther? Your sister-in-law?”

  “She’s a gute quilter, and I didn’t want to go to the hospital.”

  “Ach. Did it hurt?”

  He couldn’t help but smile at her intense interest in his leg. He knew his wound would impress the girls. “Something wonderful. But I didn’t want to go to a doctor.”

  “How many stitches?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” she said in disbelief. “You’re supposed to know so you can tell people, ‘I got three stitches.’ Or ‘Remember that time I got seven hundred stitches?’ It’s a number you can brag about.” She pointed to her elbow, which was covered by her coat. “I got two stitches here when I fell on my scooter.”

  “I think it’s between three and seven hundred,” he said. She cuffed him on the shoulder. Fortunately, it wasn’t the sore one. “Ask Esther. Or maybe I could count them right now.”

  She leaned over again and squinted at his leg. Her hair smelled like roses and vanilla. Ach, the heady scent attacked his senses and made his pulse race. He drew back slightly. It was just a smell. What was wrong with him? “The stitches are small. I’d guess maybe forty.”

  “Okay. Forty is a gute number.”

  “Like I said, Ben. You’re tough. I would have bawled like a baby.”

  He hadn’t bawled, but he might have yelled pretty loud when Esther first poked that needle into his skin. But Linda didn’t need to know that. She thought he was tough. That was something.

  She stood up straight, taking her enticing smell with her. “You should get a tetanus shot.”

  “I got one last year when I snagged my ankle on a barbed wire fence.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “How did that happen?”

  He wasn’t about to tell her. He’d said enough already. Linda didn’t need to know that he, Wally, and Simeon were tipping an old, abandoned outhouse on Rierson’s farm, and Rierson’s two big dogs had chased them off the property. Ben hadn’t quite cleared the fence when he was running away. “It was nothing. Simeon and me were out having some fun, and I ran into some barbed wire, that’s all.”

  Linda shook her head. “Sounds like you’re kinda slow to learn your lessons.”

  Why did everybody think they were smarter than he was? “There isn’t anything wrong with enjoying life. It was on a dare from Simeon. That makes me tough and brave.”

  “Nae. It just makes you reckless.”

  He wasn’t going to argue about that. He didn’t care what Linda Eicher thought. He gingerly placed the gauze pads back on his gash.

  “Here,” she said. “I’ll wrap.” Bending over again, she took the gauze and gently wound it around his leg.

  Ben held his breath while she worked. He didn’t want to be attracted to her smell or her eyes or the strand of yellow hair that escaped her kapp and brushed against her cheek like a kiss. He refused to like anything about Linda Eicher.

  When she finished, he pulled down his trouser leg and stood up. “Okay then. I’ll see you later.”

  She inclined her head toward the front door. “Aren’t you coming in?”

  “Nae. I think I’ll go home.”

  Her eyes twinkled. She was silently laughing at him again. “You came all this way to ask if you could drive me home?”

  “Nae . . . well, jah. But I knew you’d say nae.”

  “Of course you knew I’d say nae. Why did you ask?”

  “It’s not because I like you,” Ben said. The very thought was beyond belief.

  She folded her arms and scrunched her lips together. “I already got that idea from the picture you painted in my front yard.”

  He wasn’t going to let her make him feel guilty about that. It was a means to an end, that’s all. “Esther wouldn’t sew up my leg unless I agreed to ask to drive you home from the gathering.”

  Linda drew her brows together. “Why would Esther want you to ask me?”

  “She wanted to punish me for the skiing. She knew it would be pure torture for me to drive you home.”

  That didn’t seem to offend Linda. Instead she fell silent, as if thinking hard about something. She squinted at him, and he could see she was trying not to smile. “I accept your offer.”

  “What?” That was not in the plan at all. His gut clenched. Never in a million years would he have expected her to say yes. His work of art on her lawn was supposed to have made sure she didn’t.

  “But instead of driving me home from a gathering, you have to come skiing with me and my friends. Cross-country skiing, if you can keep up.”

  Ben didn’t even try to hide his horror at such a thought. Cross-country skiing with Linda? He didn’t know how to ski, his leg ached, and he hated the thought of spending one more minute with Linda Eicher. He groaned loudly.

  That should be enough torture to satisfy even Esther.

  Chapter Four

  Ashley honked her horn before Linda could stop her. “Don’t honk,” Linda said. “I’ll go get him.”

  “What?” Ashley said, rolling her eyes. “Amish guys don’t know what a car horn sounds like?”

  Linda smiled wryly. “Like as not, he’ll pretend he didn’t hear. I’ll be right back.” She jumped out of the car and hiked across the snow to Esther’s front door. Instead of her usual plain dress, she wore her black snow pants and warm boots that were really the only proper thing to wear for snow sports. She sported a dark blue beanie on her head, but underneath, her hair was tucked up in a bandana, something many Amish girls and women wore when doing chores.

  Would Esther be shocked at her attire? Maybe. But everybody knew how much Linda liked to ski and snowshoe. And she was still in rumschpringe, her running around time, as was Ben. Most people in the community just wrung their hands or clucked their tongues at what die youngie did during rumschpringe and didn’t do much to discourage them. Of course, everybody wanted to keep their children as close to the straight and narrow path as they could, even during rumschpringe, but Mamm told Linda that if skiing was the worst Linda ever did, Mamm would be satisfied. And Linda might even be able to ski after she got baptized. Nobody had asked the bishop yet if skiing was against the Ordnung.

  Meeting at Esther and Levi’s house had been Linda’s idea. That way Ben could prove to his sister-in-law that he’d fulfilled his part of the agreement, and he wasn’t likely to back out with his sister-in-law watching him get into the car with Linda. Linda was kind of surprised that Ben cared so much about pleasing Esther. He seemed like the type who didn’t care about much of anything, especially not anyone else’s feelings.

  Linda wasn’t exactly sure what had induced her to invite Ben Kiem to go skiing. She certainly didn’t like him much. He’d broken their buggy, painted that very unflattering picture of her in the snow, and made himself generally unpleasant to be around. It was crazy to have anyth
ing to do with him.

  She felt bad that she hadn’t been more sympathetic when he’d injured himself. That was one nasty gash, but Ben hadn’t cried one tear over it or made any sort of fuss. Then again, why should she feel sorry for someone who made his own trouble and then suffered the consequences?

  Mamm always said that Linda was her practical child, which was Mamm’s way of saying Linda didn’t have a nurturing bone in her whole body. Linda had no patience for those who didn’t pull their own weight or whined about things that couldn’t be changed. What was the use of complaining? Complainers wore Linda’s tolerance down to a nub. Of course, people who didn’t know her well thought Linda was insensitive with her pull-yourself-up-by-your-own-bootstraps attitude. Her siblings certainly didn’t like it. Nora liked to be coddled when she was sick, and Linda refused to baby her.

  But her invitation to go skiing wasn’t just about trying to be more sympathetic to Ben. Maybe it was his brown, puppy-dog eyes that always seemed to be so sad or the tense and guarded way he approached people, as if someone might bite off his hand if he let them get too close. Maybe it was to prove to herself that she had forgiven him for being such a dumkoff, and maybe she was secretly impressed that he’d gone to all that trouble to ask her, even though he hadn’t really wanted to.

  Whatever the reason, she only had to take him this one time, and then she never had to talk to Ben Kiem ever again in her whole life, unless he decided to draw more artwork in her yard.

  Linda knocked on the door, and Esther opened it as if she’d been waiting just inside. A stubby piece of white chalk sat behind Esther’s ear, four fabric clips were fastened to her apron, and a spatula stuck out of her apron pocket. “Linda, how gute to see you. Ben says you’re taking him skiing.”

  “Ach, vell, we’ve decided to go snowshoeing. It’s easier, and the snow isn’t so gute this time of year for skiing.”

  Esther nodded thoughtfully. “Snowshoeing is gute enough.” She ushered Linda into the front hall. “Cum reu. It’s wonderful cold out there.”

  Esther’s front room was just off the entryway, where a stunning blue quilt sat on a set of frames. Little white fabric flowers traveled around the edges of the quilt, accented with tiny leaves in every shade of green. “Ach, Esther. That is so pretty.”

  “I always have a quilt up so I can take a stitch or two when Winnie isn’t paying attention. If she thinks I’m more interested in my quilt, she hangs on my skirt and uses it as a swing. If that doesn’t work, she starts chewing on my quilt frames.” Esther laughed. “I hope she has some teeth left when she gets older.”

  “Do you need help?”

  “Of course. I’m always looking for friends to help me finish my latest quilt.”

  Linda stepped to the quilt and ran her hand over the fabric. “I don’t mind quilting, as long as you’re not fussy about stitches. I’m not very patient.”

  Worry lines appeared around Esther’s eyes. “Ach. I heard you were a gute quilter.”

  “That’s just my mamm’s wishful thinking. She thinks if she says it out loud, I’ll feel guilty enough to try to be better at it.”

  Esther fingered the chalk behind her ear. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but if you’re not a gute quilter, you’re not allowed to work on my quilt. I hope that doesn’t offend you. And I hope you’ll still take Ben snowshoeing.”

  The troubled expression on Esther’s face made Linda laugh. “I don’t get offended easily.” Somebody had spray painted an ugly picture of her in the snow, and she had invited him to go skiing—which, come to think of it, was a little bit crazy and a whole lot unnecessary. “Take everything my mamm says about me with a grain of salt. I’m afraid I’m a huge disappointment to her.”

  “Of course not.” Esther blew air from between her lips. “Every Amish girl or fraa thinks they can quilt. Most get offended when you question their skill, but I hate unpicking bad work. It leaves holes in my fabric. And then I get so angry, I have to go outside and throw something or yank up my flowers or tear tufts of grass from the lawn.”

  Linda didn’t know Esther well, but she liked her better and better all the time. How many Amish women would admit to having a bad temper? “For the sake of your lawn, I won’t quilt a stitch.”

  “Denki. My grass and my husband are very grateful.”

  A loud thump-thumping noise echoed down the hall. Ben came galloping around the corner with Esther’s daughter, Winnie, riding on his back, her chubby little arms wrapped as far as they would go around Ben’s neck, her delighted, ear-piercing squeals filling the house. Ben’s grin lit up the whole room as he pranced and whinnied enthusiastically, but when he caught sight of Linda, he stopped short as if Winnie had pulled back hard on the reins. “Ach,” he said, losing his buoyant energy, “you’re here.”

  Linda wasn’t happy about the fact that she seemed to have completely ruined Ben’s day, but there was nothing she could do about it. Or maybe there was. She glanced at Esther. Would Esther object if Linda called the whole thing off? Just why had Esther wanted Ben to drive Linda home?

  “Come on, sweetie,” Esther said, peeling Winnie off Ben’s back.

  Winnie protested by squeaking loudly and wrapping her little fingers around Ben’s collar. “Beh!” she said.

  Esther grinned at Linda as she wrestled Winnie into her arms. “That’s how she says ‘Ben.’ It’s the only word she knows. Ben is Winnie’s favorite person in the whole world.”

  It was nice that someone—anyone—liked Ben, even if that person was a sixteen-month-old. He seemed pretty harmless, but he wasn’t all that likable. Linda tilted her head and studied his face. Children weren’t fooled by insincere adults. Winnie was probably a better judge of character than Linda was. And Linda shouldn’t judge at all. That was what it said in the Bible.

  Winnie still reached for Ben. Ben took her from Esther’s arms and planted a quick kiss on Winnie’s cheek. Something warm and sweet tingled down Linda’s spine. There was something very appealing about a young man who liked children. She hadn’t expected it from Ben.

  Esther smoothed her hand down Winnie’s hair. “Ben usually crawls around on all fours with Winnie on his back, but he can’t crawl at the moment. He hurt his leg. It’s a hesslich wound. Very deep.” Her eyes twinkled as if she was thinking of something funny. “Show Linda your leg, Ben. For sure and certain, she’ll be impressed.”

  “Ach, I’ve seen it,” Linda said. “It was nice of you to sew it up.”

  Esther’s eyes grew round. “He told you?”

  “Jah. It was my buggy he hitched a ride on. I saw the blood.”

  For whatever reason, Esther seemed disproportionately pleased that Linda had already seen Ben’s cut. “Do you like it?”

  Ben growled. “Like it? Of course she doesn’t like it.” He gave Esther a pointed glare. “I don’t care if she likes it.”

  Linda laughed. “Okay, okay. Nobody cares about your leg.” Ben nodded in agreement, but Esther frowned. Linda cleared her throat. She should be a little less blunt and at least pretend to be sympathetic. “I mean we all care that Ben got hurt, but what’s done is done. No use dwelling on it or making a fuss.”

  “That’s what I think,” Ben snapped. He glanced at his sister-in-law and the lines around his mouth softened. “I’m wonderful grateful to you for giving me stitches.”

  Esther heaved a sigh. “I know you are, and I know you wish you’d been wiser, but you don’t have to get touchy about it. You asked quite a bit of me, insisting I sew your leg. It is very upsetting to cause someone that much pain. After you left, I had to go outside and have a snowball fight with Levi.”

  Linda laughed. Ben cracked a smile. “I’m sure he’s glad to let you throw anything at him you want,” he said.

  Esther’s grin took over her entire face. “He’s very sweet that way.”

  A long, loud, impatient honk came from the car outside. Linda was startled, mostly at how she had been enjoying the conversation so much she’d almost forgotten why s
he’d come. Ben really shouldn’t be forced to go snowshoeing with her. And she didn’t really want him to come. “You know,” she said, looking at Esther doubtfully, “Ben doesn’t have to come. He doesn’t want to, and maybe it’s better if we just all forgive and forget.”

  For the first time ever in Linda’s life, Ben smiled at her. It was a nice smile like berry pie fresh from the oven or sun sparkling on newly fallen snow. “I . . . that . . . that’s wonderful kind of you. I’d rather not go.”

  A twinge of disappointment caught Linda off guard. There was no reason to feel that way. She hadn’t expected anything different from Ben, and snowshoeing would be much more fun without him.

  Esther practically snatched Winnie from Ben’s arms. “Ach, no excuses. I spent over an hour giving you stitches. I got lightheaded and almost threw up twice, and you twitched and groaned until I thought you’d faint.”

  Ben blew a disgusted puff of air from between his lips. “I don’t faint.”

  Esther acted as if she didn’t hear him. “We had an agreement, and you’re going.”

  “The agreement was that I’d ask to drive Linda home. Going skiing wasn’t the agreement.”

  “We’re not skiing,” Linda said. “We had to change it to snowshoeing.”

  “Ach, that makes it so much better,” Ben said, the sarcasm dripping from his lips.

  Esther glared at Ben, pulled the chalk from behind her ear, and pointed it at him like a knife. “One full hour and forty-five stitches. My hands shook until bedtime, and Levi accidentally hit me in the cheek with a snowball. You’re going snowshoeing if it kills me. I’ll have none of this talk about forgiving and forgetting. There will be no forgiving and forgetting in this house. You’re going.”

  “But why do you want me to go so bad?”

  “I won’t debate this a second longer,” Esther said, obviously unwilling to talk about her reasons. “You’re going.”

  Ben pinched his lips together and turned back into the petulant boy Linda had found in the snow by the side of the road after skiing behind her buggy. After that brilliant smile he’d given her, his current expression was quite a contrast.