by Sarah Price
Glancing over her shoulder, Emma noticed that Paul nodded his head in response to her father’s ranting. She barely suppressed a smile and went about the task of wrapping the freshly made loaf of whole wheat bread in plastic for Paul’s journey home. She took longer than usual, working slowly so that Hannah had no choice but to engage in conversation with Paul. He was quick to admire the progress of their quilting.
“I can’t believe how much you have accomplished so far!” he exclaimed, a genuine look of admiration on his face. “I do believe you will be ready for binding the edges within the next week!”
Hannah looked over at Emma, not certain how to respond.
“Oh, the binding!” Emma returned to the room and handed Paul the wrapped loaf of bread. “We must send that out to be done. I must confess that binding is not one of my strengths.”
At this comment, Paul shook his head. “I find that hard to believe, Emma. You make so many beautiful quilts. Binding should come quite naturally to someone with your talents!”
His compliment did not go unnoticed and she was quick to deflect it. “Nee, it is one of my weaknesses, indeed. I usually send my quilts to the Hostetler sisters in Bird-in-Hand. They truly do the most beautiful work when it comes to binding the edges.”
“The Hostetler sisters?” He looked first at Emma then at Hannah. “They are well known for their work, I admit. I imagine they would do great justice to this quilt. I would be honored to take the quilt to them when the time comes for it to be bound.” He returned his gaze to Emma. “Consider it my contribution to your generous donation.”
“That is more generous than necessary, Paul.”
“I insist!” He looked back at Hannah, a smile on his lips. “Don’t you agree, Hannah? I should be allowed to contribute?”
And so it was settled that Paul would come back the next weekend to collect the quilt and take it to Bird-in-Hand. Emma watched the exchange between Hannah and Paul with great delight, approving of her friend’s gracious acceptance and Paul’s gentle fending off of her compliments. A new suitor would certainly help ease Hannah’s potential second thoughts at having rejected Ralph’s proposal, she thought.
Chapter Four
IT WAS SATURDAY afternoon at the Weaver house. The windows were open and a light breeze stirred the air just enough to keep it comfortable inside, despite the unusually warm September weather. Outside the birds swarmed the bird feeder that hung from the black shepherd’s hook among the front bushes. The noise of their chatter floated into the room, a welcome song of mirth and happiness that kept Emma company. Occasionally a car drove by the house, its engine disturbing the peacefulness of the surroundings. Otherwise it was a lazy, relaxing day, just perfect for Emma to focus on her quilting.
Earlier that morning Emma had visited with the Blanks. While she normally visited on Thursdays, she had promised Hetty’s maem to drop off a schnitzel pie. She liked to bake pies early in the morning on Saturdays, the room still cool from the night air and the smell lingering in the kitchen for most of the day. But to spend the time making only one pie made little sense to Emma. So when she did bake pies, she always made extra ones to give to neighbors and friends.
Given that she had already spent time visiting on Thursday, her stop at the Blanks’ house that morning was shorter than usual. She used the excuse of wanting to return home in order to work on the quilt so that neither woman’s feelings would be hurt that she didn’t stay longer. However, once she left their house, she took her time walking home, enjoying the heat of the sun on the nape of her neck. As she wandered down back roads, she paused to admire the green fields of the neighboring farms. It wouldn’t be long before the corn stalks turned brown and were cut for fodder, leaving bare fields to greet the winter months.
By the time she returned home, it was almost noon. She had to hurry to make a light meal for her daed. Boiled potatoes and carrots accompanied the meatloaf that she had cooked earlier in the day. The two of them ate at the table, little conversation between them with the exception of Emma updating her daed about Hetty’s appreciation for the schnitzel pie.
For the most part, it was a quiet sort of afternoon. The usual flurry of visitors was not expected at the house since Hannah had plans to join Gladys at a neighbor’s home for supper. Emma had hoped to see Anna, but learned earlier in the week that Samuel was intent upon visiting his cousin’s farm with his new wife. Without her favorite people around to entertain, Emma was quite content to sit in her chair by the quilting frame, putting the finishing touches upon the outer border while she half listened to her daed snore as he napped in his recliner chair.
The clock had just struck two o’clock when she heard the sound of horse hooves and buggy wheels pulling into their driveway. Setting down the needle, she glanced out the window, but from her vantage point she was unable to see who had just arrived.
“Are you expecting someone, Daed?” she asked softly, turning to look at him.
Jolted from his sleep, Henry grumbled for a moment as he gained his senses. He rubbed his face and sat up straight in the recliner. “What did you say, Emma?”
“I asked if you are expecting someone, then? I hear a buggy in the driveway.” When he didn’t respond, still dazed from his slumber, she frowned and stood up in order to walk into the kitchen for a better view from the front window.
“Who is it?” her daed called.
She didn’t have to answer as the door suddenly opened and Gideon entered, removing his hat and placing it on the hook near the door. He grinned at Emma and called out a greeting to Henry.
Immediately upon hearing Gideon’s voice, Henry brightened and shifted his weight in the recliner. “How right gut to see you, Gideon!”
Emma remained speechless. She quickly glanced around the kitchen, saying a prayer of thanks that everything was neat and tidy. It would never do to have a visitor see anything less than a pristine kitchen. “We weren’t expecting you,” she managed to say.
Ignoring Emma’s comment, Gideon crossed the room and properly shook Henry’s hand. “I was visiting friends down the road and thought to stop by for a Saturday afternoon visit.” He glanced at Emma. “If that pleases you, of course,” he added with a light-hearted tone to his words.
“Always a pleasure,” Henry countered, the expression on his weathered face speaking of the genuine delight he felt at his friend’s surprise appearance. He gestured toward the sofa. “Sit for a spell, ja?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Gideon took his seat and sighed as he leaned back. “God has graced us with a beautiful day, ja? I’m surprised that you are inside when it is so lovely outdoors.”
“Avoid the midday sunlight. The doctors say so, nowadays. It’s a wonder that the farmers of olden days didn’t all just drop from skin cancer!”
Gideon laughed.
“As for you, you must stay for supper. We insist!” He turned to look at his dochder. “Don’t we, Emma?”
“But of course!” Quickly she began to hurry about the kitchen, opening cabinets and trying to determine what she would serve for supper. She knew that Gideon lived alone and was certain that he was most likely lonely, which explained his frequent visits to the Weaver household. However, she had not been expecting anyone and therefore had not plan
ned a proper Saturday supper.
“Don’t go to any trouble on my behalf, Emma,” Gideon said as if reading her mind. “It is the company I seek, not the food.”
She spun around and put a hand on her hip, giving him what could only be described as a look. “Now Gideon, if there is one thing you must know, we will never let anyone leave our home with anything less than a full stomach!”
He shook his head, laughing under his breath. “You fuss too much, Emma. But if there is one thing I have learned over the years, it is best to not argue with you on the small things. I save those types of discussion for items of much greater importance.”
With a quick puff of air she scoffed at him. “Seems you enjoy arguing with me as much as you enjoy Daed’s conversation!” She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Come to think of it, I’m not certain which you might enjoy more!”
“Now, Emma,” her daed chastised gently. “You know that Gideon is only looking out for your best interest. We all are. Such a special young woman is bound to need guidance from time to time.” Then without another word in reference to Emma, Henry began to share some of the local stories he had heard just the previous day when he went into town to replenish feed for the horse.
Shortly before four o’clock Henry announced that he was going to take a walk down the street and back. The doctor had told him to exercise more and take in the fresh air whenever possible. Since then he had taken to a late afternoon stroll in order to enjoy the sun without worrying about the harm of its rays. Often he would pause to visit with the neighbors when they were outside. His walks usually took a good forty-five minutes, sometimes a bit longer if he happened to reach the farm at the end of the lane. Emma knew that he enjoyed leaning against the fence and watching the cows in the field as they walked, single file, along a trodden path toward the barn for the early evening milking.
Without Henry’s presence the house was deathly silent except for the ticking of the clock that hung on the wall. Every five minutes or so Emma heard the familiar crinkling sound of the paper as Gideon turned the pages of The Budget, the weekly newspaper with news of Amish communities across the country. It was a comforting sound, one of peaceful belonging. She felt much less alone with Gideon’s presence in the kitchen.
After the fourth time hearing the page turn, she smiled to herself as she poked the needle through the fabric of the quilt, her stitches neat and small on the fabric. “I never can understand how a man can spend so much time reading that paper.” She lifted the needle from the underside, pulling the white thread through the quilt top. “With the bishop so adamant about gossip, I don’t see where The Budget is not much more than a step above that!”
“Gossip, you say!” Gideon gave a soft chuckle and put the paper down. “I bet if I told you that I have my own bit of gossip today, you’d find that most interesting, Emma, and wouldn’t complain one bit.”
She laughed, knowing that Gideon knew her too well. Still, she tried to act nonplussed, aware that denial was the proper response for a godly woman. “I have no interest in gossip, Gideon King! The bishop preached about it quite sharply just two services ago!”
Leaning forward, he met her gaze when she glanced over her shoulder, and he tried to hide his smile. She frowned and turned back to her quilting as he spoke. “Even if I told you this gossip is about a good friend of yours and what seems to be an upcoming proposal of marriage?”
Her fingers stopped moving, lingering over the fabric as she felt her heart beat inside of her chest. Was it possible that Paul Esh had moved so quickly? Had her matchmaking skills proven so powerfully insightful that she had another success already? How fortunate for Hannah, she thought. Two proposals in one week! Emma spun around on her chair and stared at Gideon. “Why would Paul confide in you, Gideon? I don’t see where you are in his confidence for such private matters!”
“Paul?” He seemed genuinely confused as he repeated the name as if to make certain he had heard her properly. “Paul Esh?”
“That is who you are speaking of, ja?”
At that comment, the realization struck him and he stood up, walking toward her. “Oh, Emma,” he laughed. “I do not speak of Paul, but I do indeed speak of Hannah! A tenant of mine, Ralph Martin, came to speak to me earlier this week about renting the grossdaadihaus on the farm that he lets from me, the one in Strasburg. Seems he’s interested in it for him to bring home his new fraa. When I inquired as to who the lucky woman is, imagine my surprise to hear your friend’s name slip through his lips!”
Her shoulders stiffened and she pressed her lips together at his words. She lifted an eyebrow and spun her chair back around, pretending to turn her attention to the quilt. She had forgotten that there was a connection between Ralph and Gideon. “I see,” was her only retort.
It was Gideon’s turn to frown. “Emma! Surely you must be happy for your friend, even if the match is not with your approved Paul Esh.”
She made a soft huffing sound and glanced at him over her shoulder. “You mock me, Gideon!”
“I assure you that I do not,” he retorted playfully, his hands on his hips and a feigned look of innocence on his face.
“Well, your secret is not so secret anyway,” she countered, not buying into his teasing. “I already knew of this proposal.”
Gideon leaned over her shoulder to look at the quilting. He paused to point out that she had missed a small section in one of the leaves that she was stitching. She swatted at his hand, but her cheeks colored at the error that he had pointed out.
“So she took you in her confidence, did she?” When Emma did not respond, he paused, and as the realization of the full meaning of her statement hit him, he stood up straight, his eyes scanning the horizon through the window. “Of course she did and she must have said no,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Otherwise, you would not have thought of Paul Esh when I first mentioned the matter.” He took a deep breath and placed his hands on her shoulders, spinning her around so that she faced him. “Emma, what did you do?”
“I did nothing,” she started, but the words sounded meek. It was clear that she was not telling the entire truth, even to herself.
“Emma . . . ”
She shrugged her shoulders so that his hands fell back to his side. She did not like the scowl on his face nor the tone of his voice. His constant disapproval was grating on her nerves. Despite his being a part of the family, Gideon King sometimes took his self-appointed role as her big bruder a step too far. “Ja vell, I did nothing more than a true sister would do.”
“A true sister?” He stared down at her and shook his head. “That would have been a wunderbaar match, Emma, even if it did not fit your plans.”
“Wunderbaar for Ralph Martin, I’m sure.” She tried to spin her chair back to continue quilting, but the way that Gideon was standing blocked her way.
“I admit that you have helped her tremendously, Emma, but I am not so sure that your presumption about Ralph Martin is fair. She is a young woman with a questionable family background and upbringing.” Emma gasped at his words, but he did not let her interrupt him. “As for Ralph, he’s a godly man with a spotless reputation and a lot to offer your friend.”
“He’s a pig farmer.”
Gideon tilted hi
s head and blinked his eyes just once. There was a look of complete disbelief on his face that made her feel uncomfortable, and she tried to look away. “What does being a pig farmer have to do with his being a fine match for your friend? He’s a hard worker, honest, and kind! Aren’t those the most important things, besides that she finds a man who honors God and his community? And lest you forget, he seems to be quite taken with her.”
To this statement she did not reply.
“Why, Emma Weaver! This has nothing to do with Ralph Martin or his occupation, which you find so distasteful for some unknown reason! It has everything to do with your fixation on Paul Esh marrying her instead!” He laughed, but there was no mirth to his laughter. “That is most ridiculous. You know that, don’t you?”
“I’m sure I do not know what you mean!”
He placed his hand under her chin and made her look at him. “You should know better than to meddle, Emma. Ralph Martin may be a pig farmer, but he is a right gut man and is well thought of in his g’may. I think highly of him and know that he would make your friend a fine husband. She would have a gut future with Ralph, and that is what you should be focused on.”
Placing the needle on top of the quilt, Emma stood up and moved away from Gideon. His brotherly advice was getting on her nerves today, and she was having a hard time holding her tongue. “A girl like Hannah would do far better with someone like Paul,” she proclaimed. “She is not farm girl material, Gideon. Certainly she is more familiar with labor in a store than a field.”
