“Do not come in this store.” Rachel paused in the middle of folding the fabric she had cut. For a moment, Annie wondered who she could be talking to—the bell over the door hadn’t rung. In fact, the store was surprisingly empty for midday on a Saturday.
Annie angled her head to the right. When she did, she caught sight of her two nephews. The younger, Zeke, was halfway through the back door. Matthew stood behind him and had his hand on the door.
At the sound of their mother’s voice, they both had frozen.
2
Leah had chosen a hanging bag for disposable diapers, decorated with farm animals and trimmed in lavender, blue, and green. She was walking back up the aisle when she heard Rachel’s voice. It was a hard thing to miss, rather like the voice of a schoolteacher Leah had had in fifth grade. She’d been terrified of Sally Detweiler—a Mennonite woman who smelled like rubbing ointment and rarely smiled.
But she wasn’t afraid of Rachel Zook.
Why were her two boys standing half-in and half-out of the back door?
They didn’t seem frightened, exactly. Maybe disappointed.
“I know you are not done with your chores.” Rachel didn’t bother turning around, instead she directed her attention to the bolt of fabric she was finished with, a lovely lavender Annie would use on the crib quilt she was sewing. “Back outside until you’re done.”
“Yes, mamm.” Both boys reversed direction, back toward the area behind the store.
Leah noticed that the older one, Matthew, was careful to catch the screen door so it wouldn’t slam. What could their chores possibly be? What was there to do in the alley behind the store?
She rubbed her stomach, more to feel the connection with her bopplin than because they were causing her any discomfort at the moment.
What was it like for the boys to live in the apartment above the store? Did they miss having a yard to run and play in?
How did Rachel manage, raising them alone?
“I don’t think you’ll be needing the diaper holder, since you’ll be using cloth. I’ve had Plain women try to use it for cloth diapers and they don’t fit in it well, no matter how you fold them.” Rachel moved to the register to ring up Annie’s fabric purchase. “Though I do not enjoy discouraging you from purchasing something. I can use every sale I scrape together in this town.”
Annie stopped at Leah’s side as she studied the diaper holder. “Perfect colors. Matches the quilt I’m sewing.”
“And the other your mamm is doing.” Leah smiled and released the worries being around Rachel always brought to mind. “I still have some money left over from my vegetable booth.”
“Ya. Your garden did much better than mine. I had that rabbit problem.”
They started laughing again, but stopped when they realized Rachel was staring at them.
“Oh. I’m sorry. We’re keeping you.” Annie quickly counted out the amount showing on the register display. “Samuel wanted me to remind you about the luncheon at our house tomorrow.”
“I couldn’t possibly drive out—”
“Onkel Eli will be coming. He has to drive through town on his way to our place. He’ll be happy to give you and the boys a ride.”
Rachel’s face scrunched up and she began shaking her head. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“My parents would so love a chance to see the boys. I believe dat has been working with Matthew on his checker skills.”
Leah watched the interplay with interest. She understood all too well the stress that existed between Annie, who was now her sister-in-law, and Rachel, who was Samuel’s sister-in-law. The fact that Rachel had tried to persuade Samuel to move to Ohio and marry her should have caused an insurmountable wall of jealousy between the two, but Annie had assured her it didn’t.
Annie had said she and Samuel talked about everything—including the situation with Rachel.
It seemed to Leah that she hardly talked to Adam at all these days. He tumbled into bed exhausted, when he came to bed at all, and rose before daylight.
Glancing down at her stomach, which blocked the view of her feet, Leah couldn’t help wondering if it was because of her size. She knew her husband loved her, but perhaps he didn’t like her very much right now. Maybe things would be better between them in a few months.
“I suppose we could come if I didn’t have to drive. I’d rather not use the mare and buggy more than necessary.”
“Wunderbaar. It’s settled then.”
Leah made her purchase, without anymore commentary from Rachel, and was happy to see two more families enter the store as they were leaving. The last thing Annie needed was for Samuel to bear the financial responsibility of Rachel Zook and her two sons. The emotional baggage the woman had brought to town was enough of a burden.
Stepping outside into the November sunshine reminded Leah of being released from a long day at school. She stopped on the sidewalk, held her stomach in both her hands and pulled in a long, deep breath.
“Was iss letz?” Annie moved in front of her, reached forward and placed her palm against Leah’s forehead. Then she moved her fingertips to Leah’s wrist.
Leah knew Annie was counting her pulse.
Always the nurse, always checking on her.
Leah opened her eyes and smiled. “Rachel’s store is a little oppressive.”
“That’s it?”
“Ya. Outside feels gut.”
“It does, but you scared me.”
“You frighten easily, maybe because you are worried my babies will come early.”
“Early, yes, but not today, Leah. Now let’s go and have a cup of tea.”
Five minutes later, they sat down in the shop where Annie’s mother worked. Leah had always been close to her own parents. Six months after she married Adam they made the decision to move to Wisconsin. She’d been completely shocked. It was something they had talked about for several years—because the cost of land was less there, but she hadn’t thought they were serious.
Since then Leah’s feelings toward Rebekah and Jacob had changed. Perhaps it was because her family had moved.
Maybe it was the fact that Annie was expecting her own first child, or because hers were twins.
Whatever the reason, in the last two years, she’d grown incredibly close to Annie and Adam’s parents.
Rebekah moved toward them, calmness and joy on her face. “I was hoping you two would come in today. Let me help Charity see to the other tables, then I’ll come and sit with you.” Round, motherly, with gray hair peeking out from under her kapp, Rebekah Weaver was a balm to Leah’s soul. They ordered and soon Rebekah was back, setting two mugs of tea in front of them and a plate filled with three kinds of cheese, crackers, and fruit.
“Mamm, we only ordered the tea—decaffeinated.”
“No caffeine. I remember, and the lunch is on me. I have three grandkinner at this table. Can’t start feeding them gut things too soon. I’ll be back in a snap.”
She was gone before they could argue.
“Your mamm is the best,” Leah said, reaching for a cracker and some cheese.
“Our mamm.”
“Right.” Leah sighed, suddenly happy they had come into town.
“I love this cafe.” Annie stared around the room as if she didn’t come in to see her mother at least twice a month, as if she were seeing it with new eyes.
“What’s not to love?”
“Did I ever tell you about the time Samuel followed me in here?”
“At least twice, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”
“I thought he’d gone crazy. I’d recently returned home, recently come back from Philadelphia. I hadn’t even told my family yet about earning my nursing certification, and I was still all bound up with guilt. Samuel saw through all of those things. He saw something inside me I didn’t even know existed.” Annie set her package on the empty chair and reached for her tea. “Hard to believe we’ve both been married two years, Leah. Seems yesterday we were girls playing with our
dolls on a summer afternoon.”
Leah didn’t answer; instead she studied the cracker she’d half eaten. Should she tell Annie about all the things worrying her? She didn’t want to ruin their day out. And maybe it was nothing.
“Have you and Adam decided on names?”
“Nein.”
“Oh. Have you narrowed it down?”
Leah shook her head, certain if she spoke now, the tears would start.
Annie picked up the packages and moved them so she could sit in the chair beside her rather than across from her. “Leah, what’s wrong? You were so happy a minute ago, out on the sidewalk, and now you look miserable.”
“Maybe it’s nothing . . .” Leah pulled the napkin out from under her silverware. Rebekah was finishing up with the last table of customers and she did not want to be blubbering when her mother-in-law joined them.
“Probably it is nothing, but I’m certain you’ll feel better if you talk about whatever is weighing on your heart.”
Leah nodded and rubbed at her eyes with the napkin. Rebekah headed toward them, and she didn’t want to worry her. “Later. I’ll tell you later.”
“Promise?”
“Ya.”
“Everyone is served and it should be the end of what we call our lunchtime rush.” Rebekah settled into the fourth chair with her own cup of hot tea. “Now show me what you purchased at the store.”
Leah was relieved to focus on the baby things. Thinking of the babies eased the worries in her heart. Preparing for them helped her feel as if she were doing something useful.
Rebekah agreed that the diaper holder was perfect. “Folks think Amish don’t use disposable diapers, but I’ll tell you—with my five children it would have been a nice thing to have when we were going to church meeting or in town for shopping.”
“Rachel didn’t approve,” Leah admitted.
“Oh. I wouldn’t worry about what others think. It’s not as if you’re going to use them all the time. Cloth diapers are better overall, but there are situations when disposables will come in handy.”
“If I have your blessing, that’s gut enough for me. My mamm wouldn’t give me an opinion when I wrote to her. I tried to describe the ones with the pull-tabs, but when she wrote back her comment on the subject was ‘It wonders me’ and nothing more! I couldn’t tell if she approved or not.”
“It’s hard to understand some things from a letter, but I know your mother well, Leah. She isn’t one to judge, so don’t be worrying.” Rebekah took a sip of her tea as she watched Charity to be sure she could handle the other three tables of customers. “Did you pick up your fabric, Annie?”
“Ya, let me show you.” Annie pulled it from her bag, running her fingers over the soft cotton.
Leah could imagine what it would look like once she’d finished. She could see it lying in the cradle.
“What a pretty color. I’ve always favored purples,” Rebekah said.
“It will be perfect for the nine-patch.”
“You’re using it for Sunbonnet Sue’s dress, ya?”
“I thought I would. I haven’t actually begun the quilt yet.”
They all studied their food for a moment. Leah wasn’t going to broach the subject that Rebekah was dancing around.
“Go ahead and say it, mamm.”
“No, dear. I’m not about to say anything—”
“I know I’m running a little behind, but I’m a fast quilter once I begin . . .”
“I know you are. You’ve been busy, what with helping Belinda.”
“And Samuel. You know I can’t tell him no when he asks me to go along on his visits to care for someone.”
Leah reached for a strawberry and popped it in her mouth. Her worries faded away as she listened to the good-natured bantering between Rebekah and Annie.
“Our community is so lucky to have the two of you.” Rebekah straightened the tablecloth. “I knew when you came home from Philadelphia Gotte would use your talents in some special way.”
When Annie stuffed the material back into the bag, Leah felt she should encourage her. “It’s true, Annie. Your nursing comes in handy quite often. You were busy last week helping with the birthing of that calf over at David Hostetler’s place.”
“Birthing a calf. To think I went to nursing school—”
“Now, Annie. Gotte cares about the animals, too, and the vet couldn’t be reached in time.” Rebekah was trying to hide her smile behind her teacup. “Adam told me you enjoyed the birthing.”
Leah’s heart lurched. Adam had told her nothing of the calf’s birthing. She’d heard about it from David when he’d stopped by to bring fresh milk, which he traded with them for eggs.
“I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it. It was messy and frightening. I didn’t exactly know what I was doing. Calves are bigger than babies and harder to birth in several ways. Fortunately, David and Samuel were there because another heifer was birthing at the same time. They needed an extra pair of hands.”
“And yours were there,” Rebekah added.
“They were.” Annie grinned. “He was a white-faced calf, mamm. Pretty as shoofly pie.”
“So, no quilting,” Leah added.
“I mean to start this week.” Annie pushed her plate away.
“You’ll learn to set aside a specific time each day or evening for your sewing, which could be difficult since your schedule is never the same. Didn’t you sit with Bishop Levi’s mother one night this week?”
“We did. He brought her home from the hospital. There’s nothing more they can do there, and it’s gut for her to be at the farm where she at least remembers some things.”
“How much longer does she have?”
“The doctors think a month or so, but Samuel says he’s seen cases where the cancer can take one quickly or can cause them to linger. Samuel says there’s no way to be sure.”
“Gotte knows best.”
“Why did you go, Annie?” Leah ran her finger around the rim of her cup. “If there’s nothing to be done . . .”
“The bishop had to attend to a matter on the other side of our district and couldn’t be back until the next morning, so we went and spent the night. It was no problem. Samuel and I took shifts. I like to go with him when I can. Once our boppli is born, I won’t be able to share those times with him anymore.”
“Everything changes when two become three.” Rebekah smiled at them both. “Or four.”
Leah’s concerns always seemed out of proportion when she was visiting with Rebekah. Maybe she was right. Maybe at their home, things would change for the better.
“Once you cut your fabric, you can take it with you and quilt while you’re waiting.”
“Ya. I meant to, but then . . .” Annie stared down at her hands. “I took a nap instead. Three times last week. I know it’s because of the boppli, but I feel guilty when I sleep in the middle of the day.”
“Be glad you can, Annie.” Leah rubbed her hands along her lower back. “It’s been weeks since I have slept more than a few hours at a time in the evening, and not at all in the day.”
“You girls will forget all about this as soon as you hold your newborn.” Rebekah began stacking the dishes. “Annie, I’d be happy to help you begin the quilt.”
“Nein. I want to do it myself. This is my gift. My work of love for Leah.”
“All right.” Rebekah nodded in agreement. “I understand.”
Leah stood, with some difficulty, and collected her package from the store. “Let’s go say hello to Charity before we leave.”
“Gut idea.”
“She can walk you girls back to your buggy.” Rebekah pulled Annie, then Leah, into a hug.
When she did, Leah breathed in the smell of her freshly laundered kapp, cinnamon from the cooking she’d been doing in the back of the shop, and a dozen other things that all cried out mother to her. Something deep inside of her wanted to stand there, in Rebekah’s arms, to rest and stop worrying.
“We’ll see you tomorrow, a
t Annie’s.” Rebekah paused, reached out to touch her face, and then added, “If you need me before then, you send Adam.”
Leah blinked and nodded. How could she have even thought of hiding anything from Rebekah Weaver? She had an instinctive way of understanding when anything was amiss among her children, and Leah was one of her children now. Though in the last months she had wondered about many things in her life—Rebekah’s love was one thing she had never questioned.
3
Adam had completely disassembled the small gas-powered portable handsaw. You wouldn’t think there could be so many pieces, but he had over twenty on the worktable in front of him. Nothing appeared broken, but there’d been enough dirt on the inside of the engine to keep it from working properly. He suspected when he put it back together, cleaned and oiled, it would run fine.
The sound of a horse and buggy pulled his attention away from the project.
Wiping his hands on his pants, he stepped out into the early afternoon sunshine.
“It’s too nice a day for a farmer to be inside the barn,” Samuel declared, unfolding himself from his buggy. At six feet tall and steadily gaining weight from Annie’s cooking, he was a big man. The weight he needed to gain. For too many years, he’d resembled a scarecrow. For too many years—after the death of his wife and child in a winter storm, his grief had kept him from enjoying life.
“Ya. You’re right it’s a gut day to be outside, but my work is in the barn. Everything in the fields is done. You’d know since you helped me harvest.”
Samuel slapped him on the back. “What engine are you taking apart today?”
“Small gasoline-powered handsaw.”
“You don’t say. Made by Ervin Hochstetler?”
“Who else?”
“Then we know it’s a gut product.”
“It is, but even a hand-saw made by Hochstetler has a limit to the amount of dirt it can handle. A mechanical engine is like the human body, Samuel. It has to be treated with respect—”
Samuel held up his hand. “No need to lecture me. I’ve heard you speak on this before, and I believe you.”
The Christmas Quilt (Quilts of Love Series) Page 2
