Smiling so brightly Adam’s heart actually hurt for her, Reba continued pulling him down the rows of tables. “All the more reason for us to pray for him, dear bruder. Now, I want you to try some of my cookies.”
“You baked?”
“Yes. It’s the first time in years, and I’m afraid to auction them before they’ve been sampled by humans.”
Annie had expected Monday to pass slowly. The week seemed to stretch out in front of them like a long road.
“I wish we could have been there,” Leah admitted.
“Ya, but if we were there, probably there would have been no need for an auction.”
“True.” Leah sighed and stared at her toes. “One of the good things about the hospital bed is I can raise the foot of the bed and see my toes. The swelling has nearly disappeared from my ankles.”
“Because you’re in bed more.”
“Ya. My feet almost look normal.”
“Some reason you’re giggling over there?” Annie was putting the finishing touches on a return letter to Reba. She folded the paper and slipped it into the envelope.
“I was remembering how Adam had to put my shoes on for me. Those were the days.”
“Only two weeks ago.”
“And by the end of this week, he’ll be here. Holding our babies.” Leah placed her hands on her stomach.
A few hours earlier, both of her doctors had stopped by. They agreed that Saturday was the prime date for delivery, if she could make it that long—it would mark the end of her thirty-sixth week. There was a possibility she could go longer, but the odds of that were slim and they cautioned against raising her hopes.
“How many more hours until Adam calls?”
“At least three.” Annie stood and moved to the side of her bed. “Do you want to walk some more? Or quilt?”
“Let’s quilt. I love what we did on Saturday.”
Annie pulled out the long strip of quilting. She and Leah had worked on sewing together more nine-patches, then they had connected the three completed doll squares with sashing.
“I love the dark blue and green strips. They add the right amount of color between the white squares.” Leah sighed. “And I can imagine draping this over my boppli, Annie. I’ll think of Paul’s letter to the church in Galatians each time I do, and I’ll remember our stories. I’m sure I will.”
“Ya. I have no doubt my memories will be rich every time I pick up my niece or nephew.” Running her hand from left to right, she touched the blue Sunbonnet Sue, the blue and green Overall Sam, and the green and teal Sue. “On other quilts, I waited until all of my squares were done to put together any rows.”
“It helps to see what the finished piece is going to look like. It helps me be more patient.” Leah squinted one eye as she said the last word. “I keep thinking about the doctor’s story and the African girl.”
Annie pulled more fabric from her bag. “Time to start the top row, yes?”
“Yes! Which means we need another story.” Leah pulled the nine squares toward her.
It did Annie’s heart good to see how much healthier her sister-in-law had grown since coming to Mercy. Not only physically, though it was a blessing, to be sure. But Leah’s emotional, mental, and spiritual state had moved a far distance from where it had been when they’d knelt beside her on the floor of her bathroom. Certainly, God had used this time for healing. His ways were above their ways. Indeed they were.
Annie pulled the thread through her needle, and the needle through her layers of cloth. She had prayed about many things as she prepared for her hospital visit this day. Her visits the last few nights with Jenny had reminded her how important friendships were, whether they existed within a family or outside of one.
Reba’s letter and the revelations of her feelings for Trevor were just one more example of how the cords of friendship could stretch and extend beyond where they normally exist. Didn’t she know that? Jenny was a perfect example. It had never mattered Jenny was Englisch. She’d been a friend when Annie needed one.
Would those cords of friendship stretch as far as marriage for Reba? Could Trevor withstand the sacrifice of converting to their faith? Reba had confessed she had no desire to leave the Amish way, and Trevor didn’t want her to. He was happy living and working among the Amish, and he respected their faith and worship.
Perhaps it would work out this time.
Maybe friendship and love would be enough to help him through the requirements the bishop would put on him.
Other friendships existed inside a family though, even inside a marriage. Watching Leah piece together her nine-patch squares, Annie wondered if this dear girl she’d grown to love realized what a friend she had in Adam.
Clearing her voice, she set down her quilting, poured them both a cup of water, and said, “Perhaps you should tell the story today.”
“Me?” Leah’s voice squeaked like the gate in their back pasture.
“Ya. Tell me a story about Adam.”
Leah’s brow wrinkled as she focused on the fabric and making her stitches even. She didn’t speak for three, four, then five minutes. Annie sat and resumed her own sewing. When Leah started giggling softly, Annie inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
“Adam is not one who is naturally patient.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“He’s more like one of David’s donkeys, wanting something the minute he thinks of it. The man is impatient when it’s not raining because it should be, and eager for it to stop when the storms come.” Leah stopped sewing and looked around the room. “I wonder if maybe it’s our age. Sometimes it feels as if we need to hurry things along.”
Shaking her head, she resumed sewing. “But there was this time after church service. He didn’t know I was watching, and I wasn’t spying on him exactly, but I saw him with Rachel’s youngest, with Zeke . . .”
19
I had been helping in the serving line, and so I knew Adam hadn’t come through. My morning sickness was better that day, for once. Services were at Faith and Aaron Blauch’s, and it must have been . . . it must have been in May going on June? Something like that. I remember the days were growing warmer and Noah was running around like a wild pony. That child has grown like a weed, Annie. It’s hard to believe he’s the first infant you and Samuel brought into the world together.
I’m off my story—you see I don’t tell one as well as you do. I’d gone looking for Adam. I was afraid the teenage boys would start through the line a second time and there would be nothing left, so I’d put back a plate for him. My plan was to tell him where it was and let him be.
I came around the corner of the barn and I saw the two of them. Probably you’re thinking I should have spoken up or done something to make myself known. Maybe. But at the time, I couldn’t. Have you ever stumbled upon a deer and its fawn, Annie? That’s what the moment was like. I couldn’t move. All I could do was watch, and besides—Zeke had that terrified look on his face, you know the one he gets.
I don’t think Rachel beats that child, but perhaps someone has in the past. He freezes and you have to talk him down. We’ve all seen it, so there’s no use looking at me reproachfully. I pray for her and her children same as you do. Pray for their healing and that Gotte will bring a man into her life, though with her sour disposition it doesn’t seem likely, does it?
I’m hopping away from my story again.
Zeke was standing there trembling, actually shaking, and it was plain as day why. He was covered in those sticker burrs from head to toe. The child must have rolled in them. I know because I heard Adam say, “How’d you get so many, Zeke?”
Adam, who barely has the patience to groom our own horses properly—he’d rather charm Reba into doing it for him—Adam was squatted down in front of him when I came around the corner. Must have been the way the breeze was stirring, because I could hear every word he said.
“I haven’t seen this many sticker burrs since Reba brought home that mongrel dog, named him Patches,
and left him in the barn. He got out through a loose board in the sidewall and went out in the pasture. Didn’t run away though. Patches knew where the soup bone was coming from. He did manage to roll in the sticker patch and Reba sat out there and combed every single one from the dog’s scraggly hair.”
Zeke didn’t say anything. You know how silent he is. He stood there, in his Sunday clothes, with his hat in his hands and his head bowed as if he were still praying along with Bishop Levi. I could see the back of his neck from where I stood at the corner of the barn, and I started to step out, I did. But then Adam, who had been pulling stickers from the boy’s pants, said, “What’s wrong, Zeke? Why are you shaking?”
Zeke looked up, and I thought he might speak, but instead he shook his head once and stared back down at the ground.
“Don’t worry about it. We won’t tell anybody. We’ll have these out, in another . . . well, in another hour or so. No harm, no foul as they say in the sports column I sometimes read.”
Zeke glanced up again, and Adam laughed then.
“You didn’t know I like sports? Sure. I keep up with the baseball games the Englischers play, and even sometimes the football. Can’t say as I follow the other sports much.”
Eventually Zeke held out his arms, and Adam continued pulling out the sticker burrs. They were even in his hair, somehow. You know how those burrs are . . . you can’t brush them out, you have to pull, and you have to pull carefully or it can tear the fabric. I happen to know that Rachel didn’t notice because later that day, when I’d already hightailed it back to the table and Adam and Zeke had appeared as if nothing at all was wrong, Rachel called him over.
She asked him what he’d been doing, and Zeke only shrugged. He did glance over at Adam, who said, “We were talking sports. Right, Zeke?”
Zeke nodded, because of course it was the truth.
I ran and fetched Adam’s plate for him, along with a big glass of lemonade. I knew he must be awful hungry, but when I put it down in front of him he grabbed my hand and started talking about the babies, asking if I thought they would be boys or girls.
Somehow, I knew that day that Adam would be a gut father—not because he’s a patient man—believe me, he’s not. The next evening, he was outside hollering at one of those engines of his that wouldn’t go back together right. No, I think he’ll be a gut father because he can find patience, he can call it up out of his heart for a child, and maybe that accounts for more than if he’d had it there all along.
Annie put down her quilt square.
She knew, firsthand, how impatient her brother could be. And yes, she’d also seen the tender side of him—less so lately as the pressure of having a family had begun to take its toll.
She studied Leah. “A wonderful fourth story, and it matches our fourth Dutch child.”
She held up the finished appliqué square. The boy wore a purple shirt, blue pants, black shoes, and black hat. They both laughed. Annie pressed her fingertips against the quilt blocks they were putting together. She would always remember the stories of love, joy, peace, and patience—the stories of the fruit of God’s spirit. As her mind brushed over each one, she was reassured everything would turn out fine.
The remainder of the afternoon sped by.
Soon Adam was calling, still talking about what a success the auction had been. They had the totals now, and the sale of goods had raised more money than expected. Combined with what was already available in the medical fund, Leah’s expected medical expenses and those of the babies shouldn’t be a problem. It was a huge burden lifted from everyone’s shoulders.
Adam had been full of details on Saturday, and Sunday he hadn’t called. This evening he seemed to be telling Leah small tidbits he’d forgotten to relay. Annie knew the moment he began talking about Reba and Trent because Leah sighed and said, “Ya, we know. Annie received a letter from her and has already written back. We’ll all pray, Adam.”
Annie was relieved to hear the easy way the two spoke with one another. It seemed the tension from previous weeks had vanished.
“Are you sure?” Leah asked into the phone.
Turning abruptly from the window, Annie found a giant grin on Leah’s face. “Eli himself told you this?”
“What—”
Leah held up her hand. “Ya, I’ll tell her . . . I miss you too, Adam . . . Tomorrow night. I’ll be here. Where else would I be? . . . Yes, I’ll give your love to the babies.”
She hung up the phone, not even attempting to hide the wistful sigh. “I miss him.”
“Sure you do, but what did he say about Eli?”
“That he’s in lieb.”
“Eli? My Onkel Eli?”
“Ya. What other Eli do we know in our district? And you’ll never guess with whom.”
“I’m not going to have to guess, because you’re going to tell me.” Annie scooted her chair closer. “Tell!”
Leah tapped her chin as if she was suddenly having trouble remembering, but she couldn’t hold out for long. “Rachel!”
Annie searched through her mind. Coming up blank, she finally asked, “Rachel who?”
“Rachel, Samuel’s schweschder!”
“Oh, Leah. I thought there must be another Rachel I couldn’t remember. Are you sure?”
“Ya. Adam says . . .” Leah shrugged. “Adam says she’s different this last week or so, or at least Eli says she’s different. Adam admits he hasn’t paid much attention.”
Different? How different could she be? Annie had been praying for a change of heart in Rachel, had been praying God would bring someone into her life to care for her and show her love. But Eli? If it were true, God certainly did work in mysterious ways.
Leah had already had her dinner, which always came early, same as at home. Annie stayed long enough to help her walk around the floor one more time. It seemed she moved somewhat slower, but then they were both distracted by all they had learned from the phone call. She wondered if she should stay, but Leah shook her head and said she was tired and would go to sleep early.
Annie was aware that the evening hours in a hospital room could drag on and seem to crawl toward morning. If Leah were sleeping though, and she did look more tired than usual, perhaps it would be best for Annie to return to the boarding house.
She was gathering her things to leave when Leah placed her hands on her forehead and groaned.
“Was iss letz? Should I call a nurse?”
“Nein. It’s only my head.” Leah sat forward, now cradling her head. “I suddenly have the worst headache.”
Annie dropped her bag and her coat and slipped the automatic blood pressure cup onto Leah’s arm. Then she pushed the Call Nurse button.
“Leah, I want you to sit back, dear. Sit back and take a few deep breaths. The nurse is coming.”
“Everything all right in here?”
“Her BP is—”
“I see it.” Foster pushed the call button again, his usually cheerful expression was missing as he bustled around the room. His movements were quick and efficient, and they did much to calm Annie’s fears.
When someone from the nurse’s desk beeped the room, he advised them, “We need to contact Dr. Reese. Stat.”
“It hurts, Annie.”
“I know it does, honey. They’ll give you something very soon.”
“Let’s put the fetal monitor back on her. Annie, help me slip it around her waist.”
Together they worked it under and around Leah. The two lines immediately appeared on the monitor display, and they confirmed what Leah’s blood pressure had shown. Both the babies and Leah were in distress.
The head nurse walked in. Her name was Nancy Baxter, and they’d had very little to do with her because Leah had been on intermittent monitoring since her placenta bleed had stopped. Baxter was older, tall, thin, gray-headed, and Annie could tell by one look she’d seen most everything a maternity ward could offer.
“Leah, your blood pressure is very high. That’s the reason your head hurts.
I want you to take this medicine, lie back, and try to rest.” Baxter handed her a small paper cup, the kind Annie had handed to patients a hundred times.
Annie didn’t see what was in it, because Baxter was issuing orders.
“Annie, would you draw those blinds, please? We don’t want any sights or sounds outside to agitate your sister.”
Leah had taken the medicine, but continued groaning from the bed. “I think I might throw up.”
“I’d like you to keep that medicine down, Leah. Also, we’ll want you to lie on your left side until we say otherwise.” Baxter glanced up. “Annie, could you pour a little ginger ale in a cup for her? Perhaps it will settle her stomach while Foster starts a line.”
“An IV?” Leah glanced in confusion from Foster on her left to Nurse Baxter on her right.
“Leah, focus on me. It’s going to be fine. Do you believe me?”
Leah nodded, though her chin was trembling.
“Your sister Annie caught this very quickly. Your blood pressure was high, too high, but we’re bringing it down. I want you to focus on something that will calm you. Can you do that? Think of something peaceful, and try to relax.”
“The quilt,” Leah whispered.
Annie snatched the bag off the floor and pulled out the single panel they’d completed. “Remember, Leah? Love, joy—”
“And peace. Ya.” Leah pulled in a deep breath.
“Good girl. Here, sip this.”
Leah took a small drink of the ginger ale, placed her hands on top of the quilt panel, and closed her eyes. Annie couldn’t make out her words, but she knew that she was praying.
Moments passed as they waited, all eyes glued on the monitor.
“Fetal heartbeats are stabilizing,” Foster said.
Baxter was called into the hall by an orderly. When she returned she announced, “Doctor Reese is on her way. Nurse Foster will stay with you until the doctor walks into this room, and he’ll call me if there’s any change at all.”
Touching Annie’s arm, she nodded toward the hall.
The Christmas Quilt (Quilts of Love Series) Page 15
