The Christmas Quilt (Quilts of Love Series)

by Vannetta Chapman

  “You update them.” Samuel nodded. “I’ll stay here.”

  She ducked out of the buggy and met the paramedics as they were pulling their equipment from the rig. Two young men in their twenties, they didn’t seem surprised to be treating a heart attack victim in a buggy or being updated by an Amish nurse. Annie imagined they had seen it all.

  Within fifteen minutes they had Jesse stabilized and Mattie in the back of the ambulance beside him, holding his hand. An intravenous drip had already improved his color.

  “What about our horse and buggy?” Mattie said, as the paramedics prepared to close the doors to the ambulance.

  “We’ll take care of both,” Samuel assured her. “And we’ll send word to your place for someone to tend to the other animals. You stay with Jesse. They’ll most likely need to do surgery.”

  As a look of anxiousness washed over Mattie’s face, Samuel stuck his head farther inside. “Keep praying and so will we. I imagine the bishop will arrive at the hospital before the surgery. You’re not alone in this, Mattie.”

  He helped shut the door on the back of the ambulance, and then it pulled away and left behind a river of silence.

  They stood there, a few feet apart, watching it go.

  Samuel turned and studied her until Annie grew self-conscious—suddenly aware of the dirt on her apron, the way her curls had escaped her kapp, and how sweaty she had become, even in the cold.

  Finally, he closed the gap between them and laced her fingers in his, before leading her up the porch steps.

  “You did very well, Nurse Annie.”

  The blush started slowly, until it crept all the way up her neck and along her cheekbones. When had Samuel last teased her by calling her Nurse Annie?

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “You were quite professional during that crisis.”

  “As were you.”

  “For a moment there I thought we were going to have two heart attacks on our hands—both Jesse and Mattie.” He led her inside and insisted she sit at the table as he poured them both a glass of water.

  “Can you imagine it though, Samuel?”

  He didn’t answer, only waited and watched her.

  She pushed on. “It was as if her heart was breaking as his was stopping. It was as if they were one.”

  Annie sipped the water. “I suppose such a long marriage creates a strong bond. Ya?”

  Samuel finished his water and set the glass in the sink. Instead of sitting beside her, he squatted in front of her chair, pulled her hand forward, and kissed her palm. “I think each year that passes, two hearts become more entwined, like two vines growing side by side. Eventually it must become difficult to know where the beat of one stops and the beat of the other begins.”

  Tears blurring her eyes, Annie nodded.

  Samuel reached forward and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Now I have three buggies to see to,” he said, standing and grinning. “If I’m not mistaken I saw some quilting items in your bag.”

  “For Leah’s bopplin.”

  “I’ll fetch it for you. Unless you’d rather nap?”

  “Nein. I think I’d like to sew. I prepared dinner before we left. I’ll place it in the oven, then go upstairs and work on her quilt.”

  “Wunderbaar. How long does the food need to cook?”

  “It’s chicken. I’ll set it for about two hours.” Annie went to the gas-powered refrigerator and began foraging around in it, but as Samuel crossed the kitchen to head out the front door, she had to call out to him.

  It wasn’t their way to speak of feelings openly. It was enough to work beside each other every day. But after this, after so close a brush with death, she felt a strong need to express what was pushing up against her heart, against her baby.

  He stopped, his hand on the door, an expression of surprise on his face.

  Her eyes met his as she cradled the chicken casserole in her arms. “I love you, Samuel.”

  “And I love you, Annie.”

  Thirty minutes later, she was upstairs sitting in what she thought of as her sewing room. The top floor of her and Samuel’s house had the staircase coming up through the middle section, surrounded by three bedrooms and a bath. He’d purchased it years ago from an Amish farmer who had a growing family—there were four bedrooms, including the one downstairs. There were also two bathrooms—one upstairs, one downstairs. Annie realized many Amish still used outhouses. Leah’s family had recently moved to Wisconsin and some of the communities there didn’t allow indoor bathrooms. She’d always had indoor facilities and thought it would be a big adjustment to use the outdoor ones—though, of course, theirs was nothing like the Englisch. The water came out slowly when you turned it on and sometimes there wasn’t as much hot water as she would have liked, but it was still better than an outhouse!

  Their bedroom faced the north, with windows peering out over the yard and the lane. Annie loved the view. She adored waking up each morning and imagining what might be in store, what might be coming down the lane. The bedroom next to theirs, the one with the windows facing east, she had decided to make into their nursery. Although she planned to keep her infant in a cradle in their room for the first month, she didn’t intend to keep her there for long.

  It didn’t take Englisch training to convince her of the need for babies to be in their own bedrooms. Her mother had been quite free with advice! “Parents need privacy, Annie. You keep your infant close until her feedings are down to once a night, then put her in her own room at night. You’ll hear her if she cries, and you and Samuel will still have your time for intimacy.”

  Annie smiled at the memory as she laid out her material for Leah’s quilt. The third bedroom, the one across from theirs and with a small window facing south, had seemed perfect for a sewing room. She’d argued they might need it for another baby, but Samuel had said, “One year at a time, Annie.”

  So he and Adam had carried the heavy treadle machine up the stairs, and he’d made her a fine table for laying out her patterns and cloth.

  The pattern. She’d set her heart on a nine-patch crib quilt. Her mother had made an all-hearts naive crib quilt for the other twin. That pattern called for three squares across, four rows down, and hearts appliquéd in every other square. Annie had seen it last week, and she wanted to complement the traditional Amish colors her mother had used.

  In fact, remembering the pattern her mother had chosen, and studying the pattern in front of her, she thought it might be nice to put a heart somewhere in the quilt she was making and she did happen to have a template for a heart appliqué.

  Her nine-patch pattern called for her to alternate a Sunbonnet Sue and Overall Sam in each square. Perhaps she could adjust her pattern so that she could place a heart in one of the squares, then it would coordinate with what her mother had sewn. After all, she was following a pattern, but more than that, she was making something special for her niece, or maybe her nephew.

  She smiled at the thought.

  And her mind darted back to Jesse Lapp.

  How was he? Was he even now on the surgery table?

  Was Mattie alone in the waiting room or had Bishop Levi made it there to stay with her—to pray with her, strengthen her and be a comfort?

  Annie propped her chin in her hand and gazed out the window, toward their barn. The door was open. Samuel had moved both of their buggies inside, but the Lapp’s mare was giving him some trouble. Samuel stood there, between the house and the barn. He appeared to be talking to the animal, holding a bucket of oats in one hand and brushing her mane with the other hand.

  Life was like that, wasn’t it? Sometimes easy. Other times difficult. The unexpected happened, and then you did your best to help each other through it.

  She was worried about Mattie, and she was also concerned about Leah and her babies. Maybe she could pray while she quilted, pray, and put her concerns aside as she decided which colors to place on which pieces of the quilt. Adding the heart appliqué was a good idea.
It would help to convey to Adam and Leah how much these children were going to be loved.

  The ray of sun through the window had slid down the wall, and Annie realized her time for sewing was coming to a close for the day. She needed a few more minutes to finish planning her quilt—choosing which colors she would use for which pieces of the pattern on Leah’s quilt. She had enough light to find what she needed.

  She searched through her basket of fabric again. Where was the dark blue? She had some left over from the quilt she’d sewn for the charity auction last summer—at least a yard, which would be enough if she cut her pattern carefully. Maybe it had fallen behind the sewing table Samuel had constructed for her.

  Setting aside the basket, she lowered herself to the floor carefully. She wasn’t yet in the fifth month of her pregnancy, barely even showing, but she’d promised her husband and her mamm she’d stop hopping around like a jackrabbit. As a nurse, she knew exercise was good for her baby. It was easier to appease her mamm than argue though. Once on the floor, she proceeded to crawl around on her hands and knees, searching under the table for the fabric.

  “Lose something?”

  “Samuel!” Annie popped up, knocking her kapp nearly off her head and releasing a cascade of curls.

  “Let me help. What are you searching for down there?” Samuel’s tone was scolding. After nearly two years of marriage Annie recognized it, but his eyes were laughing with her.

  “Fabric. I seem to have lost some, but . . .” spying a splash of blue in the back corner, she snatched at it and stood up. “Found it.”

  “I could pull the table away from the windows. Then you’d be able to see behind your treadle machine.”

  “Nein. I love the view and the light is gut here.”

  “Usually gut, when there aren’t so many shadows.”

  They both looked out the upstairs window of the farmhouse. A giant maple tree blazed with red, gold, and brown leaves winked in the last of the winter sunlight.

  “Ya, the afternoon slipped away from me,” she agreed. “But I’d rather the machine stay where it is.”

  “All right, but next time let me hunt for any lost fabric.”

  “Agreed.”

  Samuel studied the pieces she’d laid out—lavender, purple, two greens, two blues, black, and white. “Let me think. The colors suggest a manly sort of quilt.”

  “Manly? Did you see the purple?”

  “You’re adding that dark blue.”

  “You know it’s the baby quilt for one of Leah’s babies. I told you I was working on it before you went to the barn.”

  “What type of pattern?” Samuel asked, combing his fingers through his beard.

  “A nine-patch crib quilt. I wish I had started earlier.”

  “So I shouldn’t expect it for my Christmas gift?”

  “No, you shouldn’t.” Annie’s cheeks reddened in spite of herself. Samuel’s gift was finished and hidden already—a slate gray sweater she’d spent all of October knitting.

  “Leah’s babies are due—”

  “December 28th,” Annie finished for him. “We talked about my tardiness today and she laughed. Everyone says I’m a fast quilter.”

  “Twins often make an early appearance, it’s true, but I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s only a quilt, mi lieb.”

  “I know. I’d like to have it finished before they’re born though.” Annie began stacking the fabric carefully.

  “And I know you’ll do your best.” Samuel peered at her pattern as if it were a book on herbs, but she knew he was thinking of something else. “No worries, Nurse Annie. Soon enough your project will be done and our midwife will call for your help delivering your niece and nephew.”

  “How do you know they will be a girl and a boy?”

  “She’s carrying them low. I’ve seen it before.” Samuel winked as he shifted closer to her, lacing his fingers with hers. “Once you start on something you tend to focus on it wholeheartedly. I suspect you will finish your quilt for the bopplin early.”

  “I do have plenty of time, at least six weeks. I was there when Leah went for her prenatal visit last week.”

  “And everything’s gut? Because I spoke with Belinda earlier today and she seemed to think—”

  “The doctor told Leah there’s nothing to worry about. I’m glad she agreed to see the doctor, even though she plans on using Belinda to deliver the bopplin.” Annie started to tell him about her and Leah’s conversation in the buggy. Was this the right time though? It wasn’t actually about Leah’s physical condition.

  “Wunderbaar.” Samuel patted his stomach. “Would you like me to help you with dinner?”

  “Dinner! Samuel, I forgot about the casserole.” Annie attempted to pull her hand from his, to hurry past him and out of the room, but he caught her in his arms.

  “No need to rush. I checked it when I came inside. Smelled burned, so I took a peek.”

  “Burned?” Her voice rose like a screech owl.

  “Appeared mostly black. I think you’ll have to leave it all for me.”

  Annie ran her palm along his cheek, then leaned forward and kissed him once. “It wasn’t burned,” she whispered. “I would have smelled it.”

  “Maybe not black,” he admitted.

  She kissed him again.

  “I confess. The chicken was brown and the potatoes seasoned perfectly. Would you like me to go down and finish things up?”

  “I would not.” She slapped him on the arm and pushed past him. “I can prepare dinner for two.”

  “Three soon enough,” he called after her.

  “Yes, three.” She smiled to herself as she heard him running water in the bathroom sink. They would eat, then spend a quiet evening together.

  She would tell him her worries about all Leah had said after they ate. Samuel would know what they should do, if anything. Quilting for the afternoon had been exactly what she needed to spend a few hours doing. Though she hadn’t started sewing yet, focusing on the fabric and the pattern had helped calm her nerves.

  Now to feed her starving husband.

  5

  Sunday morning should have been relaxing. Since this was not their Sunday for church meeting, Leah didn’t have to hurry, which was a good thing. The babies felt as if they were fighting for space inside her stomach. Belinda had warned her these last few weeks would be even more uncomfortable. Leah hadn’t thought that would be possible. As she lay in bed, staring around her belly at her ankles, she decided they were definitely less swollen than the day before.

  Maybe today would be better.

  Maybe the worst was behind her.

  And maybe she and Adam wouldn’t argue again.

  Struggling out of the bed, she tried to picture the babies—healthy and sleeping in their crib.

  With her hand, she caressed the mound that was her stomach. “You’re worth every minute of discomfort,” she whispered.

  By eleven o’clock that morning she wasn’t so sure. Her body was rebelling against her. It felt like a buggy she couldn’t quite control as she tried to make her way around the house.

  Soon she found herself seated beside Adam on the way to Annie’s—beside him but not next to him. He’d placed the casserole bowl on the seat between them. Had he done that on purpose? Less than a year ago he’d always insisted she sit right beside him, tucked up close.

  Not anymore.

  She stared down at her feet—or in the direction of her feet. Her ankles had begun swelling as soon as she’d started making breakfast, which he’d eaten standing at the kitchen counter. Adam had tried to help her put on her shoes, but they’d had no luck. That was when the first tears had started and when he’d first become frustrated with her. Who could blame him? She weighed nearly as much as the heifer in the barn, and she acted like a calf—bawling at the smallest thing.

  “Think anyone will notice I’m wearing shoes with no laces?” she asked. They were halfway to Annie’s. She had wanted to stay home, but he’d insisted that she com
e to the family luncheon. Maybe, just maybe, he did want to spend the day with her.

  “My family?” Adam snorted. “If there’s food on the table, chances are they won’t notice what’s underneath it.”

  “Unless one of Reba’s animals gets loose.”

  Adam smiled and some of the tension in Leah’s heart loosened. “It’s been a while since that happened. Once she started helping at the veterinary office in town, I believe she stopped placing critters in her apron pockets.”

  Leah stared out over the fields they were passing. The weather had turned colder and it looked to her as if snow might be threatening. She was ready. Snow meant Thanksgiving and then Christmas. Soon after Christmas would be the arrival of their children.

  “I should have made something else to bring. My bowl of pudding hardly seems enough considering all the people who will be there.”

  “You worry too much.” The words came out sharply. “No one expects you to cook at all with the bopplin nearing their due date.”

  Cooking was the one thing she could still do! Leah thought of mentioning that to Adam. She almost brought up the fact that long hours doing nothing but knitting weren’t necessarily a blessing, but she bit the words back. The last thing she wanted was to argue this morning. This was Sunday, and though Adam’s time in the barn had cut short their Bible study, she wanted the rest of the day to go perfectly.

  Some days she found herself so bored she thought she might go crazy. She realized complaining about too little work was narrisch. In the old days—before she was pregnant, she’d go to the barn and help Adam. The last time she’d tried that, he’d shooed her away, telling her she might get hurt out there.

  Leah cleared her throat. “I meant to say I should have prepared something more last night, since I had the time. If I had known you weren’t going to make it in to eat dinner, maybe I could have focused on baking a cake or—”

  “Do not start on me again about last night.”

  “Adam, I wasn’t.”

  “I cannot help it if sometimes things don’t go as planned, Leah. The engines, they don’t always work once I put them back together, and you know we are barely making it with the money from the crops.”