A Perfect Square

by Vannetta Chapman

  “Their ears miss nothing,” Esther muttered.

  “What am I supposed to miss?”

  Deborah glanced at her and smiled, which eased a bit of the tension in Esther’s shoulders — not all but some.

  “Tobias will handle himself. When we left he was splitting wood with a vengeance.”

  “What does vengeance mean?” Leah play-walked her doll across the top of the buggy seat.

  “Can I send her to school early?” Esther asked. “Surely they won’t notice if I drop her off a few years before it’s time.”

  “I like school. I play school with Mary and Martha.” Leah’s head popped between the seats, and Esther kissed her on the forehead.

  “Sit back beside Joshua. Wipe his nose if it runs any more.”

  “Eww.” Leah took the handkerchief and sat back, followed by a squeal, a commotion, and giggling. Esther didn’t have the energy to look and see what caused the ruckus.

  “Time spent playing with Max will do them both good. Always wears them out, and they sleep better in the evening.” Deborah pulled into the parking lot of the quilt shop as Melinda was stepping out of her buggy.

  “Oh, she brought Hannah with her.” Esther’s mood began to lift at the sight of the baby.

  “My girls should be here somewhere as well. I’d asked her to pick them up from their grossmammi’s. They were to walk there after school.” Deborah stepped out of the buggy after Esther.

  Esther hugged Melinda, then reached for the baby. She felt a small spot of happiness for the first time in hours. Though she hadn’t admitted it to anyone, all the talk of babies had reawakened her dreams of having a big family, dreams she’d let die when she’d buried Seth two years ago. Now that it seemed they were in reach again, everything was falling apart at the seams.

  Melinda looked at her quietly from behind her wire-rimmed glasses, saying nothing but seeming to take in everything.

  Surrounded by their children, they made their way into the quilt shop.

  “Perfect timing, gals. I just returned from running errands, and I have tons to gab about.” Callie peeked around the corner of the kitchen where she was putting up supplies and running a pot of hot water for tea.

  “Ya, so do we.”

  “Max looks gorgeous today, Miss Callie.” Mary reached down and straightened Max’s purple scarf. “Does he mind wearing a girl’s color?”

  “I thought dogs were color-blind,” Deborah confessed.

  “No. I googled that one night when I was bored. They see color, but it appears paler to them. They do, however, have excellent night vision.”

  “So he can see the color of his scarf?” Mary’s eyes widened.

  “Possibly, but I don’t think he pays it much mind. Mostly he’s happy to receive his treat, which he doesn’t get until after I tie on his scarf each morning.”

  “Nice trick.”

  Esther listened to the prattle, but focused on baby Hannah. The child was nearly a year old now, but still smelled of powder and sweetness. Not quite awake from the walk inside, she snuggled against Esther’s chest and popped two fingers into her mouth.

  “I worry she’s going to suck those fingers until she’s twelve,” Melinda said, as she hustled children and toys to the back of the store.

  “Doubtful,” Deborah reasoned. “I’ve yet to see a teenager with her fingers in her mouth.”

  “We worry about our children, just the same.” Melinda spread an old quilt across the floor and pulled a few toys out of the bag. Joshua immediately reached for the wooden blocks and began banging one against the floor.

  “Anyone want to take Max out to the garden for his afternoon romp?”

  “I’ll do it!” Mary squealed.

  “And I’ll watch her,” Martha added.

  “I don’t always need watching, Martha. Mamm, tell her I can walk Max by myself.”

  “What will you do if he sees a bird and runs off down Main Street?” Deborah asked.

  Mary scrunched up her eyes and glanced out the front window at a passing car. With a sigh she handed the leash to Martha. “Maybe you should walk him to the gate, then I’ll take over.”

  Martha, Mary, and Leah were at the door when Joshua spied them and went running in their direction. “Do we have to take him with us?” Mary asked.

  “How would you feel?” Martha asked.

  It sounded to Esther as if Mary said, “I can’t win today.”

  Hannah was content to remain in Esther’s lap. Everyone except Esther pulled out their quilts and began stitching while Deborah explained what had happened at the farm that morning.

  “Were they still there when you left?” Melinda asked.

  “Ya. It’s terrible. They even had the canine unit out.” Deborah shook her head as she pieced a blue triangle to a black one. Esther watched the familiar pattern fall into place and wondered why life couldn’t be as simple. Quilting made sense to her, had since she was a small girl learning the craft at her mother’s side.

  Life though — for many years now life had been a puzzle.

  It seemed as if Esther were caught in the impossible task of trying to piece together an unworkable pattern. No matter how much she focused, how hard she bent to her task, the pieces would not fit together. Oh, at times she might think she’d made progress, but in reality she’d made none at all. Like a quilt that couldn’t be finished.

  Melinda rethreaded her needle. “I heard the girl was from Cedar Bend.”

  “I don’t understand Shane Black at all.” Callie poked her needle through her material too roughly. “Why would he jump to the conclusion that Reuben had something to do with a girl missing from a different town?”

  “Think about it, Callie. Maybe he didn’t have any choice. Maybe if a girl goes missing in the same area where a body has been found, they have to check it out.” Deborah didn’t look up as she spoke. “I’m not saying it’s right, but maybe that’s the way the Englisch system works. Suspicion by geographic proximity.”

  Callie glanced up and immediately pricked herself with the needle. Sticking her finger in her mouth, she grimaced. “Are you sure you don’t watch CSI?”

  “C-S-who?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Esther, you’ve nothing to say on this?” Melinda pushed back from the quilt stand and reached for her tea.

  “What is there to say? A week ago all was well. Then I stumbled on a dead body, my soon-to-be-cousin was arrested for murder, I learned we’re to live somewhere else, and now there may be another body buried on the land. As soon as I speak, something else will happen. Best I hold Hannah and keep my peace.”

  Esther was painfully aware the others were all staring at her, so she kept her eyes on Hannah’s perfectly arched eyebrows, tiny nose, and two fingers still firmly stuck in her mouth.

  “I believe she’s in shock,” Deborah murmured.

  “Who could blame her?”

  “Shane should be ashamed of himself.” Callie reached for the Band-Aids she kept in her sewing supplies and slapped one on her finger, then resumed sewing the pieces of her lap quilt together again — each stitch larger than the last. “I have a mind to find him and talk to him. He might think that he can push you around because you’re Amish women, but that doesn’t make you stupid, and it doesn’t mean you don’t have rights. He needs to watch who he’s messing with.”

  She snipped off her last stitch and glared at Deborah and Esther. “What else were they doing other than searching with the dogs?”

  Deborah glanced uneasily at Esther. “Might as well tell her.”

  “They were going through the house and the barn, dredging the pond again, and searching the silo — “

  “He can’t do that!”

  “But he can, Callie. He had the official papers signed by the court. Officer Taylor was there and showed us the forms.”

  Callie stuck her needle inside her fabric and stood, now thoroughly agitated. “Did he even look anywhere else? Doesn’t he have other suspects? I bet they don�
�t have a single stitch of proof Reuben knew that girl from Cedar Bend — “

  Esther looked up when Melinda and Deborah began to giggle.

  “I can’t imagine anything funny.” Callie placed her hands on her hips. “Honestly, this is very serious. You need to learn to stand up for yourselves — “

  “No, Callie. It’s not about the officers.” Deborah pointed to Callie’s sweater, which now had the quilt top sewn to it in giant, loopy, uneven stitches.

  “Well, good grief!” Callie flopped into her chair. “I can’t concentrate is all.” She took up her scissors and began snipping.

  “Not that way. Let me show you.” Esther moved over, still carrying Hannah. “When you remove stitches, it’s best to use a seam ripper so you don’t mistakenly cut the fabric.”

  She popped the first stitch with the small red tool, then handed it to Callie so she could do the rest.

  “I’m betting you never sewed anything to your apron,” Callie muttered.

  “Actually, I sewed one of Seth’s socks to my nightgown when we were first married.” Esther smiled at the memory, surprised to find there was no pain in the remembering. “This was before I was pregnant with Leah, and I was determined to finish the sewing before bed, but Seth … Seth had other ideas.”

  Esther felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I was trying to hurry, and I darned it right to my gown.”

  The room grew quiet, each woman lost in their own thoughts, Esther lost in another place and another time. She placed Hannah on the quilt, on her back since she’d fallen asleep. They all resumed their sewing, and when Callie had removed the rest of her stitches, she turned to Esther. “Deborah is always saying that God has a perfect plan for each of us, that he has a hope and a future planned out for us. Do you believe that?”

  Esther pulled in a deep breath, found that the sewing had soothed her nerves, as it always did. She didn’t answer Callie’s question immediately, searching her heart first — searching through the heartaches and fears and doubts. “It’s what I’ve been taught since I was a kind. What we’ve all been taught.”

  “Ya, our training has been gut,” Melinda murmured.

  “I do believe the Lord’s Word,” Esther continued. “But when my heart hurts, as it does today, I have to wonder if his plan doesn’t include a bit more refining and learning than I would have chosen. I have to wonder if there couldn’t have been an easier way. I wonder why.”

  Esther wouldn’t have spoken such truth to anyone else, probably not to her own mamm, but somehow, here in this circle of friends, in this circle of sewing, it seemed all right to give voice to the hurts that ached like a tooth gone bad.

  The thing that helped, the thing she would have liked to thank them for, was that they did not argue with her.

  Then the door opened and the children were tumbling into the room, full of life and energy and smiles and hope.

  It wasn’t until they were leaving that Deborah asked Callie what her news was. “When we arrived, you said you had something to talk to us about.”

  “Oh, yes.” Callie tucked her hair behind her ears. She seemed to hesitate, glanced around the room and finally stared down at the dog. When she looked up a smile played across her lips. “I went to see that old man I told you all about.”

  “The one who was confused?” Melinda turned and looked back, her eyebrows popped up over her glasses in surprise.

  “Yes. His name is Ira. His story about his daughter is actually quite interesting. It’s all tied into a terrible tragedy, something about tornadoes that struck here in Shipshe.”

  “That would be the Palm Sunday Tornadoes.” Deborah pulled Joshua’s cap more firmly down over his ears. “It was a terrible time, Callie, but interesting history. You can go to the library or the visitors’ center and read the details — there’s even a display.”

  Stepping closer to Callie, she added, “But stay focused on helping Reuben. One mystery at a time is enough.”

  Callie hugged each of them as they passed through the door of the shop. Esther waited until last. She thought of how it had been her habit to stand back when the time for parting came, how she dreaded when everyone embraced because she couldn’t stand to have her isolation breached.

  It was too late for that though.

  The bubble she’d built around herself after Seth’s death had been popped, and it seemed there was no going back. She felt Callie’s arms around her, breathed in the scent of her floral perfume — light but enough to make Esther smile. If Esther knew her flowers, and she did, there was a bit of daisy in the fragrance.

  Englischers had such interesting ways.

  Spring flowers in the fall.

  Still, it was a nice reminder that spring would come again.

  Chapter 23

  DEBORAH ARRIVED HOME in plenty of time to make dinner — at least she would have, if it hadn’t been for her children.

  She left the buggy parked near the front of the barn.

  “Martha, would you run in and tell your dat we’re home? I need him to unhitch Cinnamon for me, as I believe Joshua’s had a bit of an accident.”

  “It smells terrible, Mamm.”

  “Yes, well, I think he has a bit of diarrhea.” Lifting him off the backseat of the buggy there was a big sucking sound, followed by Martha and Mary clambering over each other to see who could exit the buggy the fastest.

  Martha stepped away as Joshua began to cry and rub at his eyes. “I knew it smelled bad, but when you picked him up you released something awful.”

  Deborah held him at arm’s length, trying not to soil her dress.

  “Martha, go and tell your dat the mare needs unhitching. Mary, I want you to go and find a rag and a pail and clean up the mess on the backseat.”

  “Why do I have to do it? I’m only a little kid, barely old enough to — “

  “Would you rather clean up your bruder?” Deborah thrust Joshua toward her.

  “No, Mamm. I’ll fetch the bucket.” Mary disappeared faster than a fresh-baked pie on a Sunday.

  Martha was giggling as she walked away.

  “Hurry, Martha. I’m going to need your help with dinner. I believe he’s only teething, but let’s take him in and take his temperature to be sure. Either way, we’re in for a night.”

  “I’ll run.”

  Deborah thought of stripping her youngest one’s clothing off outside, but the weather had turned colder with the clouds, and soon it would be dark. As she hurried inside and set Joshua in the tub, tugging off his soiled clothes, then filling the sink with warm water and wetting a cloth, she thought of Esther’s words earlier. God’s plan did seem to include a bit more refining and learning than any of them would have chosen. Often she wondered why life took turns through rough weather.

  Why couldn’t things be easier?

  Tonight certainly wasn’t the best time for a sick boppli.

  But when was a good time?

  Then again, her problems were nothing compared to Esther’s. The thought was a sobering one. She finished cleaning Joshua, then lifted him out of the tub, his cries now little whimpers. Pressing her lips to his forehead she was relieved to feel its coolness.

  Perhaps he was merely teething, but she would insist everyone drink orange juice tonight nonetheless. A good dose of vitamin C to chase away the germs of winter.

  If only every ill could be cured as easily.

  Thirty minutes later, Martha had heated the stew left over from two days ago. Deborah took the fresh bread out of the oven — bread her mother had been kind enough to send along.

  “Grossmammi makes the best bread,” Mary said.

  “That she does,” Deborah agreed. She’d just placed it on the table along with a plate of fresh-cut fruit for dessert — it was as good as orange juice — when there was a loud commotion at the backdoor.

  “What now?”

  “It’s not Joshua. I checked on him. He’s been asleep since you rocked him.” Martha followed her to the back porch, where the last of the da
y’s light fell on her two sons.

  “Jacob and Joseph. Dinner’s ready. Whatever you’re doing there, finish with it and come in.”

  “Sure thing, Mamm. We’re just about done.”

  “Just about isn’t what I asked.”

  She was turning away when she caught sight of something large and close to the ground, something with a snout.

  Reversing directions, she pushed open the screen door and walked out onto the back porch.

  “Can you tell me why there are two pigs here?”

  “They’re not just any pigs,” Jacob explained.

  “They’re our new pigs.” Joseph continued hammering a board onto the front of the crate — a crate that was beginning to look suspiciously like a doghouse.

  “Why — “ Deborah stopped, closed her eyes and counted to three. When she opened them, the pigs were still there, this time staring right up at her. “Why are they not in the barn?”

  “Funny thing.” Jacob rubbed at a bit of mud that was smeared across his right cheek. “These two don’t take to the mud very well. Maybe that’s why we got them so cheap.”

  “Ya. The man Dat bought the pigs from allowed as they were a bit peculiar.”

  “Boys. These pigs cannot live outside my backdoor.”

  Joseph stopped hammering, and Jacob stopped scratching. At the exact same moment in the exact same tone, they said: “Huh.”

  Then Joseph picked up another nail and went back to whacking it with the hammer, this time on top of the crate, and Jacob reached a hand up to scratch underneath his wool cap, where there was more mud, no doubt.

  “No. No, no, no. Stop what you’re doing this very minute.” Deborah felt a meltdown coming. She didn’t have them often, and she wasn’t proud when she did. But one was headed toward her boys now. “I want this crate and these — these pigs off my back step and in the barn this very minute. Do you understand me?”

  “But — “

  “No buts. I want no argument. I want it done, and I want you back in this house in less time than it takes for me to fill the dinner glasses with water. I want you to be so fast that those pigs will think they’re flying. Am I being perfectly clear? Doesn’t matter to me if they’re in the mud or beside the mud or across the creek from the mud. You can make them mud pies and serve it to them for breakfast, but I will not have them sleeping outside my backdoor.”