The Quilter's Daughter

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Naomi shrugged. “I’m guessing she’ll want to stay in Ohio a few days after the funeral. Abby’s worried about Lester’s mamm, and I’m sure she’ll offer Deborah as much support as she needs.”

  Matthew’s gaze went to the ceiling. “Abby thinks too much of others and not enough about herself. She should have gone back to Berlin several weeks ago, like Fannie wanted her to.”

  “Abby’s a caring woman, and she was only doing what she felt was best for her mamm and little brothers. You can’t fault her for that, Matthew.”

  “Don’t fault her. I was just voicing my thoughts, that’s all.”

  Naomi knew it was best to drop the subject. Truth be told, she had a hunch Matthew cared a great deal more for Abby than he let on. It made her wonder if somewhere down the line, after Abby had time to heal, there might be a chance for her and Matthew to become a courting couple.

  Better not mention that, Naomi decided. It’s too soon after Lester’s death to even be thinking such things. She turned toward the door leading to her and Caleb’s store. “If you need me for anything, be sure and let me know.”

  Linda rolled out of bed, fumbling around for her robe. She thought she’d heard Jimmy calling, and when she tried to rouse Jim she discovered his side of the bed was empty.

  She snapped on the light to check the alarm clock and realized it was only six in the morning. Had Jim left for work already, or had he slept on the couch again? He’d been doing that a lot lately. But surely he wouldn’t do it with her parents here.

  Since her conversion, Linda had made every effort to restore peace to their household, but Jim seemed to be growing more distant as the weeks went by, and she didn’t know what to do. She knew he was angry because she had convinced him to attend church on Thursday morning.

  “I’ll go this once,” Jim had muttered when they got ready for bed last night. “But don’t think I’m going to make a habit of it.”

  I need to commit this situation to God, while I pray, set a good example, and leave everything in His hands. Linda opened the door and headed down the hall to Jimmy’s bedroom. A quick peek let her know he was still sleep. Probably just dreaming. She shut the door again and returned to her room.

  Wide-awake and not wanting to go back to sleep, she took her Bible from the dresser and curled up on the bed to read a few chapters. The first passage she chose was 1 Peter 3:1–2. “Wives, in the same way be submissive to your husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, when they see the purity and reverence of your lives.”

  Linda closed her eyes. “Lord, I’m trying to be that submissive wife, but it gets harder all the time. If Jim would only show some response, it would give me a ray of hope. I want him to know You personally, and I know that without You in the center of our lives, our marriage will never be what it should.”

  A knock on the bedroom door caused Linda to jump. “Jim?”

  “No, honey, it’s me.”

  “Come in, Dad,” she called.

  The door opened, and Linda’s father poked his head inside. “You alone?”

  She nodded.

  “I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

  “I—I was praying.”

  Her father frowned. “At six in the morning?”

  “There’s no special time to pray, Dad.” Linda smiled. “Did you need something?”

  He shook his head. “I was heading downstairs to get a glass of water and heard Jimmy crying, so I thought I’d better let you know.”

  She jumped off the bed. “Is he okay?”

  “Don’t know. Figured I’d let you handle things.”

  Linda started for the door. “I checked on him a few minutes ago, and he was sound asleep.”

  “He’s probably having a bad dream.”

  “I’m sure that’s all it is, but I’d better make certain he’s not sick.”

  “I’m going downstairs to start a pot of coffee,” her father said. “Call if you need me. I think Jim’s already gone to work.”

  “I figured as much,” Linda said as she slipped past him.

  When Linda entered Jimmy’s room, she found him awake and crying. “Honey, what’s wrong?” She brushed Jimmy’s hair aside and felt his forehead. No fever. That was good.

  “I’ve got a stomachache. Can I stay home from school? I wanna be here with Grandma and Grandpa all day.”

  Linda kissed his soft cheek. “Thursday is Thanksgiving, and there’s no school for the rest of this week, remember?”

  Jimmy’s eyes brightened, and he bounded off the bed. “Yippee! Me and Grandpa can go to the park. Maybe Allen will be there, too.”

  She smiled at her son’s exuberance. Not more than a minute ago he’d complained of a stomachache, and now he was bouncing all over the place, excited about going to the park. At least one of my men is happy about my folks being here. Jim’s been so aloof since Mother and Daddy came, it’s downright embarrassing.

  She reached for Jimmy’s hand. “Let’s go downstairs and see about making some blueberry pancakes.”

  “Can we do the kind with faces?”

  She released his hand and ruffled his hair. “Sure, sweetie. If that’s what you want.”

  Jimmy scampered out of the room, and Linda followed, thanking the Lord for the joy this little boy had brought into her life.

  Huddled beside the other mourners who stood near Lester’s plain, wooden casket, Abby struggled to keep her emotions in check. Her chest burned and her nose ran, but she held her breath until the urge to cry diminished. When someone took her hand, she felt the warmth and comfort flow all the way to her bones.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” her friend Rachel whispered. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

  “Danki. I’ll be fine.” Except for the tears Abby had shed in her mother’s arms the day she’d received the news of Lester’s death, she had not truly wept. She glanced over at Deborah, sobbing uncontrollably and leaning on one of her daughters’ shoulders. Emma had come from Indiana for her brother’s funeral, and Lester’s other two sisters, Bernice and Hattie, who lived in Florida, were there, too. Deborah had told Abby earlier that day that she would be moving to Indiana soon to live with Emma. Abby figured it was just as well, since there was nothing left for Deborah here, now that her only son was gone.

  Abby had been tempted to stay in Berlin in order to see to Deborah’s needs, but she knew it would be too painful for her or Lester’s mamm if either of them stayed. She had promised to spend Thanksgiving with Harold and Lena, but as soon as she’d fulfilled that commitment, she would be on a bus bound for Pennsylvania.

  Abraham entered the living room and went to the woodstove to add another log. It had been a fairly pleasant day, with most of their family gathered around the table sharing a delicious Thanksgiving meal. Fannie had put on a happy face, cooking the dinner, with Naomi, Nancy, and Mary Ann’s help, and then serving it as though everything was normal. However, Abraham knew, even though his wife smiled on the outside, she hurt on the inside. He was sure Fannie missed Abby and wished her daughter could have been with them today. Fannie was a good mamm, and if she could shield Abby from the trials of life, he knew she would. But that wasn’t possible. Fannie needed to rely on God and leave things in His hands the same way Abraham had done countless times.

  He opened the woodstove door, tossed the log inside, and then moved across the room to check on the bopplin—first his youngest granddaughter, asleep in her portable crib, then his twin sons, lying in their cradles. “So young and innocent,” he murmured. “I pray none of you will ever know the heartaches I have had to endure. I pray each of you will grow up healthy, happy, and relying on God to meet all of your needs.”

  Abraham’s thoughts went to Abby. She had phoned Naomi at the store yesterday and said she planned to catch a bus to Pennsylvania late this evening. She would arrive in Lancaster early tomorrow morning, and Abraham had arranged for one of thei
r English drivers to pick her up.

  Some people never find the joy I know, Lord, he silently prayed. Some lose a loved one and spend the rest of their lives grieving. I pray it won’t be so with Abby.

  Abraham meandered back to the wood-burning stove, where it was warm and comforting. Lord, please be with Fannie’s daughter. Give her a safe trip to Pennsylvania, and grant her healing, peace, and comfort in the days ahead.

  Fannie stepped into the room just then and joined him in front of the stove. “Would you care for a piece of apple crumb pie and a cup of coffee?” she asked, slipping her arm around his waist.

  He shook his head. “I’m still full from that big dinner we had. Sure was a good meal, and I thank you for it.”

  She smiled, although he could tell it was forced. “Everyone ate plenty of ham and turkey, not to mention all the trimmings that went with it.”

  He thumped his stomach a couple of times. “That’s for certain sure.”

  Fannie glanced across the room. “I see the boys and little Susan are still sleeping. Guess that means they’ll be wide awake half the night again.”

  “I hope not. You and Naomi both need your sleep.”

  “That is so true.” She lowered herself into the rocker. “Mary Ann took Sarah upstairs to play with her doll, the menfolk went out to the barn to look at Jake’s new horse, and Naomi and Nancy are doing the dishes. I was planning to help, but they said I’d done enough and insisted I come out here to rest awhile.”

  Abraham took a seat on the sofa across from her. “Guess I raised some smart girls.”

  She nodded. “Jah. They take after their daed.”

  “Your daughter’s smart like her mamm, too.”

  Fannie smiled, but even from where Abraham sat, he could see the tears in her eyes. “I’m glad Abby’s comin’ back to Pennsylvania. There are too many memories for her in Berlin. It will be easier for her to heal if she’s not living close to the heartbreaking reminder that Lester’s dead and her store is gone.” She sniffed and reached for a tissue from the small box on the table beside her chair. “I wish I could take away her pain, Abraham. If I could fix this hurt the way I used to fix her scraped knees and bruised elbows, I surely would.”

  “Just be there for her,” Abraham said. “Love Abby, pray for her, and let the Lord do His work in her life. It’s the only way.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  Jim shifted uncomfortably on the pew near the back of the church, where they sat. Not only were the pews too hard and the music too loud, but the pastor’s sermon was boring. So far all the man had talked about was how people should be thankful and give praise to God for the blessings He had given them.

  Any blessings I’ve got came about because of my own doing, he thought ruefully. I work hard, and everything we have is due to the long hours I put in. I’ve never understood why some people think they need God in order to feel good about their successes.

  “So on this Thanksgiving Day,” the pastor said, breaking into Jim’s thoughts, “I want to remind you to give thanks for your family.”

  Jim glanced down the pew. Linda sat on his right, with Jimmy squeezed in between them, and Linda’s parents were on the other side of her. We look like a model family, all decked out in our best clothes. But are any of us really happy? He studied his son, nestled against his arm. Jimmy seems happy most of the time. As happy as any kid could be, I suppose.

  Jim gave his shirt collar a couple of tugs and loosened the knot in his tie. I’ve got everything a man could want—a beautiful wife. . .a successful business. . .and a son who practically idolizes me. Then why do I feel as if something is missing?

  His gaze came to rest on the crude wooden cross, nailed to the wall behind the pulpit.

  Jimmy’s not yours. You stole him.

  As Jim stared at the cross, he wondered if he might be losing his mind.

  You need to confess. The truth will set you free.

  Jim reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a hankie to wipe the sweat dripping from his forehead. Now I’m hearing voices in my head? If this is what happens when you attend church, I don’t want any part of it.

  He forced his gaze away from the cross and focused on his hands, clenched in his lap. Guess I didn’t get my nails clean enough when I showered this morning. I’ve still got paint under some of them. He turned his wedding ring over. No paint there, but then he didn’t wear it whenever he painted. The only time Jim put the band of gold on his finger was when they went out, and then it was only to please Linda. I’ve spent a good deal of our marriage trying to please that woman, and look where it’s gotten me—a seat on a hard pew in a church that’s seen better days.

  He glanced around the room. The off-white walls looked like a blind man had painted them. There were roller marks in numerous places and several runs here and there. Sloppy work, that’s what it was.

  Jim jerked when Jimmy’s elbow connected with his ribs. “Daddy, you’re supposed to stand up.”

  “Huh?”

  “Church is over. It’s time to pray.”

  Heat flooded Jim’s face as he stood. Free at last. Now to go home and carve that fifteen-pound bird. A few helpings of turkey and some mashed potatoes, and I’ll be good as new.

  “I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon. You barely touched your Thanksgiving dinner, and now you’re heading home when you could have waited until morning.”

  The chilly November wind whipped at Abby’s black woolen shawl, and she gave her brother a hug. “There’s nothing here for me anymore. I have no reason to stay.”

  “You’ve got Lena, me, and your new nephew, Ira,” Harold reminded. “You could stay and be part of our family.”

  Abby shook her head and blinked against the burning behind her eyes. She wouldn’t give in to the threatening tears. Not here in front of Harold. One life had been taken, and another had recently entered the world. It was part of life, and she must learn to deal with it.

  “Well, if you’re set on leaving, tell Mom and all of Abraham’s family that we send our love,” Harold said, hugging Abby one last time.

  “I’ll do that.” Abby offered him her bravest smile and stepped onto the bus. She found an empty seat near the back, and a few minutes later, the bus pulled out of Dover.

  Abby leaned back and closed her eyes, but uninvited visions flashed through her mind—the charred remains of the quilt shop—Lester’s gloomy funeral service—the dinner afterwards at Deborah’s house—Thanksgiving with Harold and Lena. Abby didn’t know how she had gotten through any of it without falling apart, but she’d managed to put on a courageous front and remain strong for Deborah’s sake. It was the least she could do to make up for the poor woman’s loss.

  Abby felt as if a black cloud had settled over her heart, and she knew it wasn’t good to hold her grief inside. But she was afraid if she gave in to the emotions swirling throughout her body, she might never stop crying. Her shoulders ached from the pressure and stress of holding everything in these last few days, and the emptiness in her heart threatened to envelop her.

  She gripped the armrest on her seat, forcing her gaze to the scenery whizzing past her window. I can get through this if I don’t take time to think. When I get back to Mom’s place, I’ll keep busy helping her, the way I did after Dad died. Surely, in time, the pain will get better.

  Come sit with me awhile, Abby,” Fannie said, patting the sofa cushion beside her. “We can have a cup of tea and look at the schee—pretty—snow out the living room window.”

  Abby swished her dust mop back and forth across the hardwood floor like there was no tomorrow. “I don’t have time, Mom. I’ve got bread rising in the kitchen, clothes needing to be washed, more cleaning to do, and babies to bathe when they wake up from their morning naps.” Her eyes looked hollow and tired, like she hadn’t slept in many days, and Fannie couldn’t help but feel concerned.

  “We’ve got all day to finish our chores, daughter,” she said softly. “And you don’t have to do
everything yourself.”

  “Jah, well, the work won’t get done if we sit around watchin’ the snow fall, now will it?” Abby said sharply, holding her body rigid.

  The air between them felt thick like butter, and Fannie’s muscles coiled tight. It wasn’t like her sweet girl to be so rude. Abby was usually soft-spoken and kind, no matter what the circumstances. “Are you feelin’ all right this morning?”

  “I’m fine.” Abby squinted and massaged her temples, like she might have a headache. “If you need to relax, then please do, Mom.”

  “It’s you who needs to relax. Ever since you returned from Ohio three months ago, all you’ve done is work.”

  Abby held the dust mop in midair. “The floor’s dirty from the kinner tracking in mud and snow; there’s always lots to be done.”

  “That’s true, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

  “You still tire easily, and it’s my responsibility to help.”

  “Why do you feel it’s necessary to care for me, Abby?”

  Abby blinked. “Because—because Dad asked me to before he died.”

  Fannie’s eyebrows lifted. “What?”

  “He asked me to see that your needs were met if he didn’t make it, and I’m keeping to that promise.”

  Tears clouded Fannie’s vision, while guilt gnawed at her stomach. She should have had this discussion with Abby sooner. “Oh, Abby, I’m sure your daed didn’t mean for you to work yourself to death in an effort to meet my needs. He would have wanted you to build a life of your own and take care of your needs, too.”

  Abby sniffed. “It’s too late for that, Mom. I gave up bein’ with Lester to come here, and now he’s gone.” She quickly ran the dust mop across the floor near the woodstove. The hiss and crackle of the logs burning should have offered comfort, but they seemed only to fuel her frustration.

  Fannie reached for her cup, sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Should she say what else was on her mind, or would it be best to let it go? “I’m thinkin’ your needing to work has more to do with you tryin’ to forget the past than it does with keeping your promise to your daed,” she blurted.