“Okay, Leah. We’ll both focus on it then. What did you have in mind?” She was thinking additional Bible study and more praying. There would be plenty of time to do much of that over the next few weeks, few months actually. But Leah’s next words caused them both to grin like schoolgirls.
“The fruits, there are nine, yes?”
“You learned your numbers well,” Annie teased.
“And traditionally there are twelve Dutch children on this quilt, but we’ve changed it to nine—nine children in this nine-patch crib quilt.”
The tingling continued as Annie caught on to Leah’s idea.
“The story you told Saturday, it was about the first gift, Annie. It was about a child who was saved by love.”
Annie didn’t speak now. She didn’t dare.
“Today perhaps you could tell me a story about joy, as you sew the boy, the boy that reminds you of Adam.”
Their eyes met, and Annie knew she couldn’t refuse Leah, shouldn’t refuse her. She didn’t fully understand how a story could implant God’s word on their hearts, but she was suddenly sure that their hours of waiting would be more than sitting and filling time. And the quilt? The quilt would hold a far greater significance than she had ever imagined.
She was halfway done with the Overall Sam—blue pants, green shirt, black hat, and black shoes, before she knew the story Leah needed to hear. It was, to be sure, a story centered around joy.
16
Leah didn’t rush Annie to tell her story. She’d thought long and hard all evening the night before. The words in Galatians, the words of Paul, had convicted her heart.
Adam hadn’t called on Sunday evening. They’d agreed on Sundays they wouldn’t use the telephone, unless it was an emergency. How she’d missed hearing his voice! Almost as much as she missed his hand in hers, his smile in the morning, his body next to hers when she lay down in the evening.
All of which reminded her of how unnatural the last few months had been. She’d allowed herself to become withdrawn. There was no excuse for it. The children in her womb were a cause for the fruits Paul spoke of—for love and joy and peace. She had wasted precious weeks, whole months actually, dwelling in insecurity. It was easy enough to mark her sins in the verses preceding those fruits. Fighting, obsession, losing her temper, conflict, selfishness . . . Paul might as well have written her name on the page.
So she’d prayed, asked forgiveness and focused on the next verses, on the type of wife, and yes, mother, she should be. God had calmed her heart, assured her she was not that old person. She was a new person and had been since the day she’d stood before the church, confessed her faith in Christ, and felt the baptismal waters flow over her head.
She would speak to Adam about it all tonight. She could hardly wait for the phone beside her bed to ring. She had so much to tell him, but mostly . . . mostly she wanted to ask and receive his forgiveness.
As she sewed the small squares together and waited for Annie’s story, she marveled that she could feel so renewed in only a matter of a few hours. But then their God was a God of miracles, was He not? And the fact her babies hadn’t yet been born was proof.
Annie paused in the middle of sewing Overall Sam’s suspenders atop his shirt. She glanced up at Leah and smiled, then stood and refilled Leah’s glass of water.
“Danki,” Leah said. She was drinking more now that the IV was out, but it was good to have free movement of both arms.
“Gem gschehne.” Annie crossed over to the window and stared down below at the busy street. The skies had turned cloudy. Perhaps it would snow.
Leah wondered what a snowy Philadelphia would look like. Would it be any prettier? Certainly, it still would not be close to the beauty of their fields and barns and trees when covered with snow.
“Quite the task you’ve given us, Leah.” Annie smiled. “But perhaps if we take it one story at a time . . .”
“Gotte will provide,” Leah finished.
“Indeed.” Annie moved back to her chair and picked up the square she’d been working on. Overall Sam was half-sewn.
Leah thought she’d continue working on the appliqué, but instead she sat, held it in her lap, and began to tell her story, a story of joy, though Leah soon found even those stories have corners that are bittersweet.
I had been helping Belinda with her midwifery duties for almost six months. This was after I’d become engaged to Samuel and a few weeks before we were married. Belinda was called over to help with a birthing in the next district and she asked me to go along. I’m sure she had some idea of the troubles we would face, but they didn’t come from the mother or the newborn.
When the father contacted Belinda, he said the mother’s pains were strong and close together. Belinda had seen the mother regularly and she’d taken the woman to the doctor twice. Everything was cleared for a home birth. We arrived in plenty of time, but the moment the father stepped from the house—it was in the fall and leaves were blowing every direction—the moment I saw him, I knew something was terribly wrong.
His right arm was the one he’d lost in a farming accident. It had been amputated above the elbow. His wife sewed his shirts so the sleeves made a pocket of sorts for his stump to fit into. I asked Samuel about that later. He said some amputees prefer to keep what’s left of their limb covered.
The stump wasn’t the problem though. He was long healed of that. The accident had been two years before. However, this man’s face, the emotions playing there, they were stormier than the winds tossing the leaves back and forth. He directed Belinda where to park her little car, then trudged straight into the barn.
I had assisted Belinda in nineteen births by then. Josiah was to be our twentieth. I’d never seen a father walk away, without asking a single question. I’d seen frightened, fainting, happy, tired, all sorts of emotions. But I’d never seen a father like Josiah’s.
We went inside and the birth was straightforward. Everything was as it should have been, though the mother was alone, and I thought that was odd. Someone had laid out all we needed, and the husband had been with her when we arrived. Our method was for me to stay near the top of the bed and coach the mom and Belinda would catch the boppli. Once the baby arrived, I’d clean up the infant and perform the APGAR test. You and I have talked about that—an APGAR score determines Appearance, Pulse, Grimace, Activity, and Respiration. It’s one of my favorite parts of delivery, assessing these new ones. In the meantime, Belinda took care of delivering the placenta and sewing up mom if need be.
That day everything went normally. The birth was easy, though it was the mom’s first, and Josiah’s score was a nice 8-9. I had bundled him in his blanket and placed him next to his mother’s breast when Belinda whispered she needed to leave for a moment. Through the bedroom window, I saw her bowing into the wind, covering the distance between the house and the barn. She was gone for maybe ten minutes. When she came back, the husband was with her, though I couldn’t see that there had been any change in his temperament.
She asked me to step out of the room, which was a first. I always stay with the mom the hours immediately following a birth. I went into the kitchen, made tea for everyone, and as time dragged on, also put in a batch of biscuits.
One time, just once, I thought I heard the father shout, but it could have been a tree branch against the top of the roof. I don’t mind saying, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.
When Belinda came out of the room, she told me I could go in and finish showing mom how to breastfeed. I don’t know what I expected when I walked back in that room, but I did not expect to see dad, sitting beside his wife, holding his newborn son in the crook of his one gut arm. Belinda didn’t speak of it on the way home, and I didn’t think it was my place to ask.
Two years later though, last month, actually, I was in town with Samuel and I saw the whole family—all three of them. I wouldn’t have recognized them, except dad had on the same kind of shirt, right sleeve sewn above the elbow.
The
boy, Josiah, must have recently turned two, and he looked like Overall Sam. He wore these very same clothes if I remember right, and he was walking between his mom and dad—holding on to each with one hand. Mom was pregnant again, if my eye saw correctly.
We all said hello, then Josiah pulled the mother over to a window display a few doors down. Samuel excused himself to pick up something in the post office, which left me standing with the dat.
“I want to apologize,” he said. “I was consumed by many things the day you came to my home, the day Josiah was born. I didn’t treat you with kindness, and I’ve regretted that.”
It was as if I was speaking to a different man. I remarked on what a beautiful boy Josiah was.
“Ya.” I thought he would stop with that, but he scrubbed his hand over his face and pushed on. “I don’t know why Gotte allowed the accident that took my arm. Belinda was right though, I can still be a gut dat.”
His laugh was full and I can still remember the way he ran his fingers through his beard, the fingers of his left hand. “There hasn’t been a single thing I haven’t been able to do for my son, and what a blessing he is, Annie. He’s the joy of my life—my son is. Gotte is gut, yes?”
Then he turned and strolled away, scooping up his son and dropping him on his shoulder.
Leah sat with the squares spread out across her lap, six sewn together and three still waiting. She was back in their small town, walking down the sidewalk with Annie, seeing Josiah riding high on his father’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what Belinda said to him in the barn, but somehow she took away his fear and reminded him of the joy Gotte had in store for him.” Annie had resumed her sewing halfway through her story. Now she pulled the last stitch through and tied it off. “It’s amazing what joy a child can bring to a life, what places a child can heal—if we let them.”
“What do you think they were doing in the bedroom? When you were making tea?”
“Knowing Belinda? I suspect she was showing him how to change a diaper with one arm. Belinda’s big on fathers helping with such things.” Annie stood as the nurse’s aide walked in to check on Leah.
The rest of the afternoon was busy.
She was surprised when one of the volunteers delivered two stuffed bears—both a soft light brown, but one wore a pale yellow ribbon and the other a pastel green.
“The card says they’re from Shelly and the gang. Who is that, Annie?”
“My former boss when I worked here at Mercy. I forgot to tell you that I ran into my old roommate yesterday.”
“The one you were close friends with?”
“Ya, Jenny. She wanted me to go to dinner with her tomorrow evening, but I’ll only go if you’re feeling well.”
“I’m fine. You’ve been with me every waking moment since I arrived. Take some time and visit with your freind. I’ll crochet a little, and maybe after Adam calls I’ll go down and visit with Mrs. Grant.”
“Are you sure?”
“More than sure.”
Jenny actually stopped by before Leah had her evening meal. It was fun to hear some of the stories about Annie being a young nurse, the tasks she didn’t like to do, and how some of the men would flirt with her.
“Do you remember Jeffrey?” Jenny asked.
“I do.”
Leah was surprised to see Annie blush as she stuffed her quilting into her bag and prepared to go.
“He teased me every day. I was so young then, or I would have told him to stop. Instead I avoided him, which made it worse.”
“He had a crush on you, Annie. You had no idea how charming you were.” Jenny and Leah both laughed as Annie rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Jeffrey is married now with four children of his own.”
“Four? How did that happen? I haven’t been away that long!”
“He moved up to this floor actually. There was a young woman, a widow, who was having triplets, and well—the rest is as the movies . . . oops, guess you don’t watch those. It’s as the stories go! They fell in love, he asked, she said yes, and two years later they had another child of their own. They moved to San Francisco to be closer to his parents. Needed some help with the crew of girls.”
“All girls?” Leah asked.
“All girls. Jeffrey is going to have his hands full.” Jenny reached her arms around Leah and gave her a nice, lingering hug. “Do what the nurses say, love. Promise?”
“Of course.”
“She’s sweeter than you are, Annie.”
“I told you so.”
Annie hugged her too. “The number for my boarding house is right next to the phone.”
“Ya. You told me last night.”
“I suppose I did.”
Leah watched them go, and she was surprised she didn’t feel alone. Annie was leaving early so she could walk with Jenny, and Adam would be calling in a few minutes. She was ready to have a long chat with him, the talk where she would clear her heart, apologize for the terrible wife she’d been, and ask his forgiveness.
Love and joy.
Those were two fruits she understood very well, and she’d focus on them whenever she felt sad or lonely. Annie had taken the quilting but left the crochet work she’d begun at Lewistown.
Leah ran her hands over her stomach, said a prayer for the children, a prayer that they would remain in her womb, growing and thriving for another twelve days. Glancing at the clock, she figured it would be another half hour before Adam called. So she picked up Annie’s yarn, and she set to work.
17
Adam gazed at the bounty of food cooked and placed around his mother’s kitchen. The sight was nearly as beautiful as the snow-covered fields beyond the window. He should feel thankful. It was Thanksgiving, after all. He was appreciative of all his sisters and mother had done to make the day special.
But he didn’t feel hungry.
Hanging toward the back of the line, he was surprised when his mother tapped him on the shoulder. “Something wrong, dear?”
“Nein. I just, you know, thought I’d let everyone else go first.”
Rebekah gave him her look, the I-know-you-better look, and he shrugged.
“Guess I don’t have much appetite to tell you the truth. I know you worked hard, and I am grateful for all you’ve done—”
“Stop right there. Are you worried about the auction Saturday?”
“Nein. Everything is ready.”
Rebekah squeezed his arm. “Ready and overflowing. We’ve had to start putting things in our barn as well as Samuel’s.”
“I know, and I am grateful. It’s not that at all. It’s—”
“You’re missing Leah, plain as the chocolate on my cake. Who can blame you?”
Adam stepped out of the way as Reba dodged past him, trying to grab something out of Trevor’s hand. Though Trevor Gray was an Englischer, the family was growing accustomed to having him around. He was certainly the best vet in town, in Adam’s opinion, and it was obvious they were sweet on one another. The fact that Trevor wasn’t Amish, well, Adam had a feeling his father would say that was in God’s hands.
“Thanks, mamm. I’m glad you understand. I will try to eat something though. Maybe later.”
“Have you talked to her today?”
Adam shook his head, his heart tightening as he remembered their conversations the last few nights. “I’ll call her this evening.”
Rebekah waited, but when he didn’t add anything else, she pressed on. “I know you’ve spoken with her every evening. Samuel told Charity, who told me. I also know Leah’s feeling well and the bopplin are doing fine. So why the look?”
“Does nothing get past you?”
“Not if I can help it. Not concerning my children. You’ll understand that soon.”
Adam glanced around. The room was full, and the folks somewhat loud, thanks to all the conversations that began as soon as their time of silent prayer had passed. No one but his mother was paying attention to him. Even Samuel’s sister, Rachel, and his Onkel Eli were deep i
n conversation—which seemed to be a civil discussion for once. What was that about? Regardless, it was doubtful anyone would hear what Adam said to his mom. He didn’t mind sharing his private life with his entire family, but this still felt personal and . . . well, raw.
“When I called Leah on Monday night . . .” He shook his head, still unable to believe all his wife had said. “She apologized to me for not being the kind of fraa she should be. There she is, in the hospital, far from home, and she’s asking my forgiveness.”
Rebekah smiled. “She’s a gut girl, Leah is. I always said so.”
“That’s it?”
“Son, when a woman apologizes, accept it, say danki, and move on.”
“But I’m the one who should be asking her forgiveness.”
“Did you?”
“Ya, I did—”
“Gut! Sounds like you two have made up proper.”
“Mamm, it’s not that simple.”
“What’s not that simple?” Samuel sat down at the table, holding a plate heaped with food that smelled as if it came from heaven’s kitchen.
“Leah apologized to Adam, and he’s feeling guilty about it.”
Samuel’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he spread his napkin across his lap and dug into his baked chicken. Adam had wanted to broach the topic with Samuel. His brother-in-law was married to Annie, so no doubt he knew something about women and apologies, but Adam hadn’t found the right time to bring up the subject.
Adam pulled out the chair next to him.
“Mamm says I should accept the apology and move on, but I don’t know.” Adam ran his hand through his hair, causing Charity to smile at him from the other end of the table. She pantomimed holding her hair above her head and cutting it with a pair of scissors. He nodded his understanding. He’d been meaning to let her cut his hair before he headed back to Philadelphia. It was sticking in his collar again.
“And?” Samuel asked.
“And it feels inadequate, just moving on. I was in the wrong as much, actually more, than she was. We both had been acting immature and somewhat selfish.” The last word came out mumbled as he stared down at the wooden table. It still hurt to admit, to remember, what a fool he’d been when Leah was here. Now she was gone and he’d do anything to have her back by his side.
The Christmas Quilt (Quilts of Love Series) Page 13
