Jim entered the kitchen, switched on the overhead light, and glanced at the clock. It was four in the morning, and he didn’t have to get up for work until six, yet he hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d gone to bed late last night, tossed and turned for hours, then finally gotten up.
“Why did I let Linda talk me into attending church with her folks on Thanksgiving morning?” he groused as he ambled over to the refrigerator. He pulled out a container of apple juice, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and filled it to the brim. If I go to church on Thanksgiving, will Linda keep nagging me to attend services with her and Jimmy on Sunday mornings?
He gulped the juice down, placed the empty glass in the sink, and snapped off the light. Might as well see if I can sleep a few more hours. Maybe I’ll just crash on the couch.
Jim headed for the living room and tripped over a pair of Jimmy’s sneakers on the way. He cursed and gave one shoe a swift kick. It flew into the room and hit the coffee table with a thud.
He dropped to the couch but jumped up when something sharp jabbed his hip. He groaned when he realized it was a toy truck. “If I’ve told that kid once, I’ve told him a hundred times, not to leave his things lying around.” Jim grabbed the truck, pitched it across the room, and flopped down with his head on a throw pillow.
He lay there with his eyes closed, hoping sleep would come quickly. A few seconds later, Jim heard a click, and he bolted upright. A ray of light coming from the hallway streamed into the room. Who would be milling around this early in the morning?
Jim heard the sound of running water coming from the kitchen, so he decided to investigate. He found Linda’s father, clad in a pair of navy blue flannel pajamas, standing at the sink.
Thomas whirled around. “Jim! You scared the daylights out of me. What are you doing up at this hour?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“Woke up to use the restroom and decided I was thirsty.”
“Same here. I mean, about the thirsty part,” Jim said with a snicker. “I bedded down on the couch, hoping I could get a little more sleep before it was time to get ready for work.”
Thomas raised his dark, bushy eyebrows. “Are you and Linda getting along okay?”
“Sure. Why do you ask?”
“Just seems as if there’s some tension between the two of you. And then with you sleeping on the couch I figured there might be some serious problems.”
Jim grunted and flopped into a chair at the table. “She didn’t kick me out of our room, if that’s what you’re getting at, Tom.”
Linda’s father shook his head and took the seat opposite Jim. “That’s not what I meant to imply.” He grinned. “And thanks for not calling me Thomas. I’ve hated that name since I was a boy, but it’s what most people call me, and it’s kind of late in the game to start using a nickname.”
Jim fingered the edge of the blue vinyl tablecloth. “It’s never too late for anything.”
Tom cleared his throat. “About you and Linda. . .”
“Yeah?”
“Are you having some problems?”
Jim compressed his lips. Just how much should he tell Linda’s dad? Would he be in for a lecture if he voiced his complaints? It was only natural that a father would defend his daughter, and it wasn’t likely that his father-in-law would take Jim’s side.
“Whatever you tell me won’t go any further than these kitchen walls,” Tom said with a nod.
Jim drew in a deep breath and decided to plunge ahead. “To tell you the truth, things haven’t been good between Linda and me for some time.”
“I see.”
“Linda has always been somewhat needy, and after we got Jimmy, she became overprotective and whiny, always wanting her own way.” Jim grimaced. “This doesn’t feel right, me talking about my wife to her father.”
Tom shook his head. “That’s okay. I’m not so naïve as to think my daughter has no faults.”
“I appreciate your understanding.”
“How is Linda acting now?”
“She’s done an about-face.” Jim popped a couple of his knuckles. “Awhile back, she began going to church with some religious friend of hers. Ever since then she’s been syrupy sweet and way too compliant. It makes me wonder if she has some ulterior motive.”
“Such as?”
He shrugged. “Maybe getting me to go to church with her and Jimmy. Maybe adopting another child.”
“But you’re going to church on Thanksgiving, right?”
“Yeah, against my better judgment.”
“And you don’t want more children?”
Jim blew out his breath. How could he explain things without Tom asking a bunch of questions he wasn’t prepared to answer? “I think Jimmy’s enough for us. And since Linda and I don’t see eye-to-eye on many things that pertain to raising the boy, I can’t feel good about bringing another kid into our home.”
Tom nodded. “I think I understand. Claire tended to be overprotective with both our daughters when they were growing up, but Cheryl has always had an independent spirit and has pretty much done as she pleased since she’s been out on her own. Linda, on the other hand, was afraid of everything when she was a child, and she’s never had much confidence, not even as a young adult.”
“Yeah, I know. She has improved in that area some, but we still have a lot of problems.”
“Have you considered seeing a counselor?”
Jim clenched his teeth. Not the counselor thing again. He shook his head. “Don’t need a counselor. Things will be fine. You don’t need to worry.” He pushed away from the table. “I think I’ll go upstairs and get ready for work.”
“So soon? It’s only five o’clock.”
“Might as well get an early start. Since I’ll be losing a whole day on Thursday, I need to get as much done these next few days as I can.”
“Linda thinks you work too hard, and I’m inclined to agree with her.”
Jim frowned. “How else can I provide a decent living for us if I don’t put in long hours? Can’t pay the bills and buy the things Linda might want if I sit around the house all day.”
“That’s true, but—”
“Gotta run, Tom. I’ll see you after work this evening.” Jim rushed out of the room before Linda’s father could say anything more.
Fannie sat at the kitchen table watching a wisp of steam as it curled and lifted from her cup of tea, then vanished into the air. Abby had only been gone a few hours and already she missed her. Would her daughter be all right on her own? Could she handle the pressure of going back to Ohio and facing the remains of her shop, knowing Lester had been killed trying to rescue her quilts? The thought sent a shiver tingling down Fannie’s spine. So many hopes for the future had been dashed away in a single moment. If there was only some way to change the past, she surely would.
“Are you okay, Mama Fannie?”
Startled by the sound of Nancy’s voice, Fannie whirled around. The young girl stood off to one side, and Fannie realized Nancy must have slipped into the room while she was deep in thought. “I was just havin’ a cup of tea,” she mumbled.
“Mind if I join you? The twins are down for a nap, and I could use a little break.”
Fannie nodded at the pot sitting in the center of the table. “It’s probably empty. I’ve already had three cups.”
Nancy reached for the teapot and carried it over to the stove. “I’ll add some hot water and another tea bag. Would ya like some zucchini bread to go with it?”
Fannie shrugged. “I’m not so hungry right now.”
A few minutes later, Nancy joined her at the table. She poured them each a cup of tea and passed the plate of zucchini bread to Fannie. “You need to keep up your strength.”
Fannie glanced at the clock on the wall across from her. “Wonder how Abby’s doing. Sure hope she’ll be able to sleep on the bus. She’s had a rough couple of days, and I hated to see her leave for Ohio so soon.”
“She did have a pretty nasty b
ump on the head.”
“I wasn’t talking about that. I was referring to the trauma of Lester dying.”
Nancy nodded. “I can’t imagine how she must feel, losin’ her entire quilt shop and the man she was plannin’ to marry.”
“It’s always hard to lose a loved one, but having them die in a tragic accident is ever so sad.” Fannie took a sip of tea and hoped it would push down the lump that seemed to be stuck in her throat.
“I remember how we all felt when our mamm was hit by a car,” Nancy said. “It was like a part of us died that day.”
Before Fannie could comment, Nancy reached across the table and patted her hand. “ ’Course, havin’ you as our new mamm has helped to heal that pain.”
Fannie’s eyes filled with tears. “Bein’ married to your daed and helpin’ him raise his brood has filled a void in my life, too.”
Nancy leaned her elbows on the table. “You think Abby will ever find love again?”
“It’s too soon to be thinking of such things. Abby needs time to grieve and put her memories to rest before she can consider love or marriage again.”
“She sure is brave, going back to Ohio by herself.”
Fannie nodded. “Brave and determined to do what’s right by Lester’s mamm.”
“Abby’s a real special woman, ain’t it so?”
“Jah, but I wish she would learn to care for her own needs.”
“Doesn’t the Bible teach that we should love others and do to them as we would have done to us?”
“It does, but it also teaches that we need to love ourselves.”
“Where’s it say that?”
“In the New Testament Gospels, Jesus tells us that the second greatest commandment is to love thy neighbor as thyself.” Fannie smiled. “How can we love others if we don’t love ourselves and take care of our own needs?”
Nancy took a sip of her tea. “And you don’t think Abby does that?”
“Most of the time she’s worried about everyone else and tries to meet their needs instead of her own. Many times, my daughter has done without or given up her plans for me. She did that when she came to help during my pregnancy.” Fannie shook her head. “To tell you the truth, Abby’s been overly self-sacrificing ever since her daed died of a heart attack when she was sixteen.”
“When she stayed on after the twins were born, it made sense, but then after you seemed strong enough, I figured she would go right back to Ohio,” Nancy said.
“Exactly. Now I’m wishin’ I had insisted she go sooner. If she had, Lester might still be alive.”
Nancy’s dark eyes showed obvious concern. “You can’t blame yourself for that, Mama Fannie. Abby came here of her own free will, and she stayed because she wanted to. I’m sure she doesn’t blame you for what happened to the quilt shop or to Lester.”
“That’s what Abraham says.” Fannie sighed. “About all we can do now is pray for Abby. Pray that in the days ahead she will find comfort from us, as well as the Lord.”
Abby’s heart thumped like a trapped animal as she stood on the sidewalk, holding Deborah’s hand, in front of the remains of her quilt shop. A pile of ashes and charred timber was all that was left. It had been burned beyond repair. If only there was a way to turn back the hands of time. If I just hadn’t gone to Pennsylvania to help Mom. If I had only returned to Ohio a few days sooner. If I had understood the meaning of my dream, this would not have happened.
Abby’s chest heaved, and her throat burned, but she wouldn’t give in to the tears stinging the back of her eyes. She needed to be strong for Lester’s mamm. She needed some answers.
“Did the firemen say why the store caught fire?” she asked Deborah.
Deborah’s shoulders lifted, and she drew in a shuddering breath. “I—I—believe it’s my fault, Abby. I think I’m the cause of my son’s death.”
“Wh-what are you saying?” Abby couldn’t imagine that Lester’s mamm could be responsible for this tragic accident.
Deborah sank to a nearby bench, and Abby did the same. “A cat got into the shop the afternoon before the fire and hid. I tried to find him but finally gave up.” She sniffed and dabbed at the tears trickling down her cheeks. “I completely forgot about the cat when I closed up the shop and went home. I thought about it after I made it to the house, but I figured I’d just find him and shoo him away in the morning.”
“I don’t understand,” Abby said. “What would the cat have to do with the fire?”
“The fire chief said they found the remains of a kerosene lamp overturned.” Deborah gulped on a sob. “I—I—think I may have forgotten to turn it off, and the cat—”
“Knocked it over,” Abby said, finishing Deborah’s sentence.
“Jah. Then the following morning, Lester came through Berlin before any of the other stores had opened. He said they had a lot of work to do at the blacksmith shop, and he wanted to get an early start. He must have passed by your store on the way and caught sight of the fire. Instead of waiting for help to arrive, he went inside with the hope of saving some of your quilts.”
“How do you know this?” Abby asked with a catch in her voice.
“Some carpenters who’d come to work on the cheese shop down the street saw it all. They’d already called the fire department, and one man said he had cautioned Lester about going inside.” Deborah drew in a quick, shaky breath. “I was told that the first time Lester entered the store, he came out with four quilts. But then, foolishly, he went back for more. That was when the roof caved in, and he was knocked unconscious. By the time the firemen arrived, my son was dead.”
The haunting memories of Abby’s dream crept into her mind and tightened its grip. It wasn’t just an ugly dream as Mom had suggested. It really had been a warning, and maybe the cat in the dream represented the one that had gotten into her quilt shop.
“I’m ever so sorry, Abby,” Deborah wailed. “Sorry for the loss of your shop, and sorry for the loss of my boy, who would have been your husband soon if this hadn’t happened.”
The silence between them was thick and draped around Abby like the heavy shawl she wore. She sat there awhile, picking at the cuticle on her index finger until it bled. Her life had been cut back like a pruned vine, but she didn’t hold Deborah responsible for the accident. Many times at the end of the day she had been distracted or overly tired. She could have easily left one of the gas lamps burning, the way Deborah thought she had done. Abby could see herself doing the very same thing with the cat. No, she couldn’t allow Lester’s mamm to carry the blame for this. It was Abby’s fault the shop was now a pile of rubble. She was to blame for Lester’s horrible death. It had been her decision to go to Pennsylvania. It was she who’d decided to stay so long. And she had not heeded the warning of her recurring dream.
She reached for Deborah’s hand. “You’re not to blame. If I had returned to Ohio sooner, Lester would still be alive.” The words stung, but she had to say them. “If I had been here, he wouldn’t have gone inside.”
“You can’t know that.”
Abby nodded. “Jah, I’m certain of it.”
Deborah’s dark eyes shimmered with tears. “No matter who’s to blame for this tragedy, I know my son loved you, Abby. He loved you enough to risk his life to try and save some of your quilts.”
Abby sniffed back tears that threatened to spill over. “I know.”
“The four quilts Lester managed to save are at my house. Maybe you’d like to get them after Lester’s funeral service.”
Deborah’s last statement was nearly Abby’s undoing. She didn’t think she could ever look at another quilt without feeling guilty and remembering her loss. Yet she knew she couldn’t leave the quilts with Deborah. Maybe she would have them shipped to Mom’s house. When and if she felt ready, she might decide to sell them.
“I wish I could have gone with Abby to Ohio,” Naomi told Caleb as they opened the store for business. “She’s going to need someone to help her get through Lester’s funeral.”
“Lester’s mamm is there, and so are Abby’s brother and sister-in-law,” Caleb reminded her.
“I know, but I wish I could be there for her.”
“You can be, when she returns to Pennsylvania.”
“Do you think Abby might decide to stay in Ohio? It is her home, you know.”
Caleb turned on the gas lamp hanging above the counter. “What’s left for her there? The quilt shop’s gone, and Lester is dead. I’m sure she’ll want to get away from all those unpleasant memories.”
“You’re probably right.” Naomi opened a sack of toys for Sarah and went to put baby Susan in the crib at the back of the room. When she returned, she found Caleb struggling to open a carton of books. She was tempted to offer her help, but then she reminded herself how important it was for him to be independent. Caleb had given up a lot when he’d sold his buggy shop and purchased the store. She knew he’d done it so they could be married and he would have a way to support them. Most things in the store he could do fairly well, but the forefinger and middle finger on Caleb’s left hand had been badly crushed when Mose Kauffman’s buggy gave way. Since that time Caleb had only limited use of his hand.
Naomi was relieved when Caleb found a utility knife and finally accomplished his task. She knew he wouldn’t have liked it if she’d stepped in to help. Not unless he’d asked her to.
Naomi headed to the quilt shop, where Matthew was opening for business. He looked sad today, probably feeling Abby’s pain and wishing he could do something to ease it for her.
“Anything I can do to help you here?” she called to her brother.
Matthew turned from his job of lighting the gas lamps. “Unless we get a lot of customers, I think I can manage on my own today.”
“With Thanksgiving only a few days away, I doubt we’ll get too many customers in the store or the quilt shop.”
“You’re probably right. Most women are at home getting ready for the holiday.” Matthew’s eyes darkened, and he released a groan. “Sure won’t be much of a Thanksgiving for Abby this year. Do you think she’ll spend it in Berlin or come back here to be with our family?”
The Quilter's Daughter Page 15
