Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Sarah lowered the mouthpiece. “I’m still on hold. How’s Mary?”

  “What did you say to her?” Hannah seethed.

  “I-I …” Sarah stammered, looking like a frightened little girl.

  “Out with it, Sarah. What did you tell Mary about the buggy ride?”

  She gritted her teeth, making that “tcht” noise she was famous for. “I told her the truth. That you were out with some Englischer in the middle of the night in your nightgown.”

  An Englischer? Anger at her sister took a backseat to the relief that poured over Hannah. Sarah had no idea the driver was Matthew. “We were gone for five minutes. How much fuss have you caused over this?”

  Sarah’s right cheek twitched. “Five minutes, nothing! I saw you. You were gone over half an hour.”

  Hannah glared at her. “Liar!”

  A distant voice spoke through the earpiece. Sarah thrust the phone at Hannah. As she skirted around Hannah to leave the shanty, their backs raised like two cats in a fight.

  The woman on the phone spoke again. Hannah raised the receiver to her ear. “Yes, this is Hannah Lapp. I’m calling about Mary Yoder. She was in ICU six weeks ago with a head injury.”

  “Hold, please.”

  She wasn’t going to let any damage between her and Sarah distract her. Only two things were important right now: making sure Mary was fine and getting word to Matthew to tell no one that he was the driver of the buggy that night. But how could she manage to speak to him privately?

  Hannah hung up the phone, relieved that the nurse believed Mary was probably fine, just too weak to deal with visitors and activity. She needed solitude, good meals, and lots of sleep.

  Hannah finished jotting down the nurse’s instructions so she wouldn’t forget anything. She needed to keep tabs on Mary’s blood pressure and heart rate over the next few days. Help her pace herself, allowing for physical therapy but no more sewingfests. Mary needed lots of water, and Hannah was to start pushing the extra calories, as she’d done earlier with the cake. A brisk wind could topple Mary right over these days.

  As she left the phone shanty, Hannah’s focus was on alleviating the concerns of everyone who was worried about Mary and then figuring out a way to talk to Matthew. But how? It wasn’t like she had any real reason for visiting him.

  She ran up the small hill to the Daadi Haus. Concerned faces met her as she entered. How had she managed to get this role of being the medically knowledgeable one? She was too young for all these mothers and grandmothers to look at her with such hopeful confidence. Hannah smiled as warmly as she could manage. “The nurse thinks she’s fine, just a bit weak with so much going on. She’s to sleep, eat, rest, and not have much company or excitement for a few more weeks, maybe longer.”

  Nods of agreement made a round through the room.

  Becky came out of the bedroom. “She’s asleep now, but she was asking for you.” She pulled the door closed behind her. “What did the nurse say?”

  “Basically that we’re too wild of a group for a fragile young woman on the mend.” Hannah flashed a broad smile, hoping no one saw past it to her anger at Sarah.

  The women busied themselves putting all the sewing stuff that wasn’t theirs back in its out-of-the-way spot in the living room. Then they streamed out the door, bidding goodbye to her, Becky, and Mary’s grandmother Annie. Sarah passed her sister without a word.

  Edna gave Hannah a quick hug. “We’ll spread the word that Mary shouldn’t have visitors. As soon as she’s up to it, let everyone know.”

  Hannah patted Edna’s back, assuring her that she’d keep the women informed of Mary’s progress. As she watched her sister climb into Edna’s buggy, Hannah wondered what meanspirited things Sarah would say about her on the ride home.

  Naomi Esh paused in front of Hannah, carrying a large basket filled with sewing supplies. “I’m a stone’s throw from here. If you think of anything I could do for Mary, the Yoders, or you, just holler.”

  Still trying to come up with a way to talk to Matthew, Hannah said, “That basket looks awful heavy.”

  Naomi let out a sigh. “Matthew drove me here. But since our get-together broke up earlier than expected, looks like I’ll have to walk back home with this load.”

  Hannah glanced into the kitchen, where Mary’s mother and grandmother were tidying up. “I’d be happy to walk with you while Mary sleeps.” It would be considerably out of anyone’s way to drive Naomi home following the roads that made a huge square to get to the Esh place. But it was a fairly short trip to march across the back fields where the two properties met.

  “You have plenty to do here. I can manage.”

  Hannah’s heart fell for an instant. Then she perked up. “I used the last of the honey in Mary’s tea tonic this morning. If I walk with you now, I could bring some back with me.”

  Naomi held the basket out to her. “Kumm.”

  The two women walked in silence across the open fields from the Yoder place to Esh land. Unable to think of anything but what Sarah’s gossip could do to Matthew’s future, Hannah only managed nods and grunts at Naomi’s attempts at conversation. Finally Naomi stopped talking, and they walked in silence.

  As the chilly air whipped around her and her temper began to calm a bit, Hannah grew cold. She had, once again, forgotten to grab her shawl. Pulling the basket closer, she was struck so hard by a new thought that she had to fight for her footing.

  If by some chance she was pregnant and Matthew’s name got out to the community as the one Hannah was with in her nightgown, he might as well dig a grave for his chances of finding a wife anywhere in these parts. Her steps quickened as that worry took root.

  “Give an older woman a break, Hannah. I can’t go at that pace.”

  Chafing, Hannah slowed. She wasn’t pregnant. She couldn’t be. Conceiving that monster’s child was more than she could cope with. It was all she could do to keep the rape a secret from Paul. How would she conceal a pregnancy? And what would she do with a baby? She shuddered.

  Just don’t think about that. It’s not true. It’s not.

  The internal pep talk worked, as it had for well over a month, and her fears calmed to a bearable state.

  Naomi and Hannah left the rough terrain of the fields and stepped onto a horse-trodden path. They crossed the driveway and soon were walking into the Esh home. Hannah had been there several times before, had sat on the front porch on many a no-church Sunday. Although the layout of the place was somewhat different from her own home, it was similar in many respects, such as the color of the sofa and the type of clock on the wall. If she weren’t so livid with Sarah and so tired of Luke being angry with her, the scene might have made her homesick.

  Hannah set the basket on the table as Naomi walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Peter? David?”

  Loud, awkwardly rhythmic clomps echoed against the stairway. “They’re at the Millers’ place, Mamm, pluckin’ feathers off today’s hunt.”

  At the top of the twisting stairway, through the red cherry balusters, Hannah saw Matthew’s feet, one with a sock on and one with both a sock and a shoe.

  He hobbled down another step, gripping the rail, keeping his socked foot elevated. “Whatcha need?”

  His legs came into full view as he hopped on one foot past the walled section of the winding stairwell. When he reached the midpoint landing, his face lit up. “Hannah. Hey.”

  She pointed to the foot he was keeping off the ground. “What happened?”

  A corner of his mouth rose, and his eyes twinkled. “I fell … in more ways than one.” He jerked his eyebrows up and down quickly.

  Naomi waved her hand in the air. “I don’t want to know about all this.” She scurried up the steps and past her son. “Hannah needs honey. Go to the storage room and find her a couple of quart jars, will you?”

  “Sure thing, Mamm.” Using the railing, Matthew limped down the last ten steps.

  Hannah pointed at his hurt foot. “When? Where?”

 
He motioned toward the corner. “Guess.”

  Hannah turned to see what he was pointing at and spotted a pair of crutches. “There’s no time for games, Matthew. We need to talk.” She grabbed the crutches and handed them to him.

  “Aw, come on, Hannah.” He paused, gripping the handles of the crutches and studying her. “Okay, short version. But you’re ruinin’ the fun.” He clunked the props this way and that until he was finally headed in the right direction.

  Hannah fell in behind Matthew as they maneuvered at a snail’s pace through the house toward the storage room that had once been a small back porch. He angled his head, talking over his shoulder. “When I took Peter and David to school a week ago Monday, I saw smoke coming out of the windows and doors. The teacher was in a fit, tryin’ to douse the fire she’d started in the wood stove to warm the room before any of the kids arrived. As soon as I saw the smoke, I remembered that some of the older boys had joked about stuffing the top of the chimney. So I dashed in to help, telling her that putting the fire out had only made more smoke. Then I told her the flue was probably stuffed. Using a ladder I climbed to the lowest branch of the red maple beside the school, and I managed to get the cloth out of the flue. But on the way back down the tree, I fell.”

  They stepped through the narrow entryway into the storage room. It was lined from ceiling to floor with shelves filled with various sizes of jars filled with honey.

  “I stayed at the school while the teacher went to the Bylers’ and got someone to substitute for her. She took me to the doc’s, then brought me here and made me lunch.”

  “Really?” Hannah said, impressed with the personal attention this woman had shown. “Who is the teacher this year?”

  Matthew shuffled around on his wooden supports until he was facing her. His eyes beamed. “The girl I told ya about. I told her this injury totally messed with my plan of going to the singing that next Sunday. She agreed to come get me if I didn’t make her be the chauffeur and then invite some other girl to join us. Of course I agreed to that. So she came by and picked me up.” Matthew laughed. “We had the most wonderful time you can imagine. We made the same arrangement for the next singing.”

  Hannah was so excited for him her skin tingled. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in forever. I’m really happy for you, Matthew. But …” She closed the glass-and-wood door to the main house. “Matthew, we need to talk.”

  His smile faded slightly. “Was iss es?”

  “Sarah saw us on the midnight ride.”

  Matthew chortled. “Ya take things too seriously, Hannah. The bishop won’t eat ya, only admonish us for our own good. We did nothin’ wrong during the world’s shortest buggy ride.”

  Shaking her head, Hannah grabbed a plastic grocery bag from the shelf. “Du muscht verschteh.”

  Using his arms to balance his weight on the crutches, Matthew lifted both feet off the floor, showing off his stability. “Then explain it to me and maybe I’ll understand.”

  Hannah took a large jar of honey off the shelf and put it in the bag. “She says we were gone a really long time.”

  He shrugged. “So, who cares?”

  “Matthew, the bishop already thinks right poorly of me. My father doesn’t know what to think of his eldest daughter lately. Luke blames me for his and Mary’s accident.”

  Putting his uninjured foot on the ground, Matthew’s brows scrunched. “That’s not fair.”

  “Ach, it’s ridiculous.” The words came out bitter as resentment stirred a little deeper within her, each swirl eroding a bit more her desire to do what was right. “Sarah doesn’t know it was you driving the buggy that night. Please, for your sake, don’t tell anyone.”

  Matthew squeezed the handles of his crutches. “I can help get this straight, Hannah. We can go to your father and the bishop together and tell them the truth.”

  “No, Matthew. There’s more to the gossip than what I just said.”

  “More?”

  “Quite a bit more.” Hannah placed another jar of honey into the bag.

  “Has Sarah been saying other stuff too?”

  “I … I don’t think so.”

  Matthew held out his hand for the bag. As she hooked the handle of the heavy bag over his hand, he toppled forward. He grabbed on to the freestanding unit of shelves. It tilted forward. The jars rattled. Matthew tried to steady it while getting his balance. One of the crutches plunked to the floor, and the other fell against the shelf. “Whoa.” Matthew wobbled on one foot. “If we knock over Mamm’s whole shelf of honey, we’ll never have to worry about another rumor—or anything else—ever again.”

  Hannah slid her shoulder under his arm and reached around him to take the bag from his hand. “The weight of the bag in the very hand that’s trying to set the shelves steady is pulling them forward.”

  “You’ll have to wriggle the handle loose. It’s pinned between my hand and the shelf. If I move it, the shelves will topple.”

  With her shoulder steadying Matthew’s left side and her trying to loosen the bag from his right hand, Hannah wondered if they’d get out of this mess without the shelves falling on top of them—or at least the jars of honey. When the doorknob rattled, Hannah was hopeful someone had arrived to help. Glancing in that direction, Hannah saw a beautiful young woman through the window. Her expression went from expectant to crestfallen within a split second.

  “Elle,” Matthew whispered.

  Hearing the desperation in Matthew’s voice, Hannah knew this was the young woman he so hoped to share a future with.

  Paul paced to Mr. Yoder’s barn again, watching for signs of Hannah. He’d spent days getting this trip all lined up, hoping, at the very least, to pass Hannah the letter that was in his pocket.

  Come on, Hannah.

  His grandmother was inside with Mrs. Yoder, visiting while Mary slept. It had taken him weeks to talk Gram into coming here; she probably wouldn’t stay long.

  He jammed his hands into his pockets and sighed. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. Not after all the planning and scheming he’d done to get here today. If he and Hannah stood a chance of seeing each other on the eve of Thanksgiving, he had to get this letter to her today.

  Surprisingly, Gram had readily agreed to his plan, which included her asking Hannah to come to work for her the day before Thanksgiving while he was off from school. He wrote Hannah the letter, telling her how important it was for her to get her parents’ permission to accept Gram’s invitation to work that day so they could spend some time together. Determined to put the letter in Hannah’s hands personally, he’d told Gram they should visit the Yoders to check on Mary, never for a second anticipating that Hannah might not be there when he arrived.

  When they knocked on the door where Mary was living during her recuperation, Mary’s mother, Mrs. Yoder, greeted Katie Waddell warmly, and Gram introduced her grandson to her. Gram asked about Hannah, and Mrs. Yoder informed them that she was at Naomi Esh’s place getting some honey.

  Paul had excused himself and gone outside. He’d been pacing out here ever since. Rubbing the back of his neck, Paul’s attention never left the horizon. His muscles tightened more with every minute that passed. He couldn’t leave the letter with Mrs. Yoder or even Mary for that matter. If he did, it would probably cause quite an uproar.

  He picked up a rock and threw it as far as he could. He’d missed his last class today and his work shift tonight to get this visit in, and now she wasn’t here. He scanned the ridge, fairly sure he was looking at the property Mrs. Yoder had said was Esh land.

  He strode in that direction. Maybe she’d be right across the hill, dawdling time away while Mary slept.

  Through the window, Hannah saw the dejected young woman turn to go. Matthew let go of Hannah.

  “Elle.” He lurched for the door and stumbled. The shelves started tipping forward again. Hannah grabbed the shelf, and Matthew grabbed her. Several empty jars crashed to the floor.

  The noise caused Elle to turn back, a l
ook of concern in her eyes. She entered the room and grasped Matthew under his arm. He wavered awkwardly on one foot, still trying to get upright and balanced. Hannah put her strength under his other arm. Between the two females, they soon had Matthew balanced.

  Hannah kicked the crutches out of their way. “Let’s get him to a chair in the kitchen.” Elle nodded, and together they escorted Matthew down the hall.

  Except for her traditional clothing, Elle didn’t look like any Amish person Hannah had ever seen. She had strawberry blond hair, some of which was dangling about her face in spite of the traditional bun and Kapp. Her skin was as smooth and white as rich cream. Hannah could certainly see why Matthew was smitten with her.

  When they reached the kitchen, he sat down. Elle shifted an adjacent chair and motioned for him to place his hurt foot on it. Then she whisked out of the kitchen and toward the living room. Matthew moaned and laughed as he placed his foot on the chair, calling out to her as she moved about. “It seems I’m destined to fall each time you’re near.”

  “Oh, so it’s my fault you’re clumsy,” Elle shot over her shoulder as she walked into the living room. “Just like it was my fault the flue at school was stuffed.”

  Matthew shrugged, but the playful delight had returned to his eyes. “She hasn’t decided if I’m guilty of the wood-stove incident or not.”

  Hannah’s interest moved from Matthew back to Elle as the girl reentered the kitchen, carrying a pillow. She was mesmerizing in an unusual way, with dainty features, long brown lashes in spite of her hair color, and pale freckles across the bridge of her nose. Elle looked briefly at Hannah. Her eyes were a color Hannah had never seen before. A light lavender mixed with blue. Absolutely stunning.

  She’d never heard of an Amish woman named Elle, but the newer generation challenged the older one on all fronts, and names were just one area that people were stepping out in. Not every child’s name was biblical anymore.

  “Hannah Lapp, this is Elle Leggett.”