She washed her hands, dried them, and then reached into a cupboard for dishes. “He was just taking a walk. It doesn’t sound like things are going so well with him and his dat.”
“It’s early days yet.” Linda opened the oven, pulled out a roasting pan and set it on top of the stove.
“Mmm, pot roast. My favorite.”
Her father walked in just then. “She made it because it’s my favorite,” he corrected with a grin.
Linda laughed. “I made it because it’s everyone’s favorite in this family.”
A few minutes later, her family gathered around the table, her daed asked for the meal to be blessed, and the platter of pot roast was passed around.
And not for the first time Lavina sent up a silent prayer that peace would descend on David’s home.
***
David should have been prepared for his dat to shove his offer of help inside the house aside.
But was anyone ever really prepared for rejection?
“Here, David, pay the driver for me,” his mudder said, pushing the bills into his hands. “Thank you,” she said to the driver and then she hurried after her mann.
David passed the money to the driver and thanked him. As he turned the driver said his name.
“I hope your father feels better. Chemo is rough. My dad had to do it, too.”
“I see. I hope he’s well now?”
“Sure is. Took two rounds but he made it. Your father will, too. Take care. Tell your mother to let me know when she needs me next. ’Night.”
“Good night.”
He followed his parents into the house. His mudder helped his dat off with his jacket, smiling patiently as he grumbled that he wasn’t a kind and could do it himself. He settled himself in a chair at the kitchen table, looking pointedly at the stove.
“I’ll have fresh coffee made in just a minute,” she said, pulling off her jacket and hanging it up quickly. “David? Coffee?”
“Schur, sounds gut.”
He took a chair opposite his dat. Amos looked at him. “So you got time for riding around with Lavina instead of work, eh?”
“I went into work today,” he said, refusing to let him rile him. If he’d known his dat wouldn’t let him drive him to the hospital for his treatment, he could have put in a full day not just an afternoon . . .
He bit back a sigh. Water under the bridge, he told himself. He shouldn’t have assumed his dat would want him to drive him.
His mudder set mugs of coffee in front of them then hurried to get milk from the refrigerator. She stood beside Amos. “What do you feel like for supper?”
He shrugged. “Not hungry.”
“If you eat some supper you’ll feel better,” she said. “Then a nice rest.” She sent David a desperate look.
“You look tired, Mamm. Why don’t you sit down and have your coffee?”
“But—”
He rose, poured the coffee himself, and set it down on the table in front of the chair where his mamm usually sat, then waited until she sat before he resumed his seat. “Do you want me to go get something?”
“What? Like pizza?” his father asked sharply.
“Schur, if that’s what you’d like. My treat.”
“Waste of money. Cooking’s her job,” he said with a jerk of his head toward his fraa.
And she looked exhausted to the bone. She caught his eye and shook her head, sending him a silent message not to say anything. So he stayed silent.
“How about something warm and comforting like a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup?” she asked Amos. “And we have some apple cobbler left over from last night I could warm up.”
That sounded pretty gut to David, but he was afraid to say anything. If he knew his dat, he’d want the opposite of whatever David said. So he stirred sugar into his coffee and drank it and stayed silent.
Amos shrugged. “Got any ice cream for the cobbler?”
“Schur do. And you can eat dessert first if you want.”
“Allrecht, since it’ll take you a while to get supper on the table.”
David bit his tongue. The man had just a few minutes before claimed he wasn’t hungry. Grumpy old goat. He rose and pulled on his jacket. “I’ll go check on Nellie.”
Amos harrumphed and held out his mug for a refill on his coffee. Waneta set the pan of cobbler and carton of ice cream on the table and hurried to get the coffee pot. The minute her back was turned, Amos dug a spoon into the cobbler and shoved it into his mouth.
Waneta turned and caught him in the act. She winked at David over his dat’s head as he started out of the room.
Nellie put her head over the stall and neighed as David entered the barn. “Is it me you’re happy to see or this?” he asked as he always did when he offered her the apple he brought.
But he didn’t really care if it was the apple. At least she acted happier to see him than his dat had.
Supper was a silent affair but David didn’t mind. His father ate half of his grilled cheese sandwich and slurped his bowl of soup and then trudged upstairs to rest. His mudder didn’t eat quite as much. Too tired, he suspected. She sat nursing her cup of coffee and talked quietly about the chemo treatment that day and said his dat had a round of tests coming up soon to see if the chemo was working.
That’s when he saw her mouth tremble, saw tears rush into her eyes. He reached across the table and took her hand. “It’s going to be allrecht, Mamm. You have to believe that.”
She nodded and used her napkin to wipe away the tears. “I know.”
“Why don’t you go put your feet up while I do the dishes?”
“I won’t argue with you,” she said with a tired sigh.
“That’s gut because I get enough of that with Daed.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant having to be in the middle of our disagreements all these years.”
“Sometimes dats and sohns rub each other the wrong way. At least you did the right thing and came home when you were needed.”
“Not that he’s letting me do anything for him.”
“You’ve taken on his chores. They were too much on me on top of taking care of him and the house. We still need to talk about what we’ll do when spring planting time comes around. But not tonight.”
“Nee, not tonight. Now go on, relax.”
Taking her coffee, she went into the living room.
David filled the sink with warm water and dish soap and found himself staring out the kitchen window and remembering how he and Lavina had talked that afternoon. His mudder wasn’t the only one he’d put in the middle of things. How often had he complained to Lavina about a fight he’d had with his dat? She’d listened and kept him from blowing up more times than he could remember. So what had he done? Left her, hurt her terribly, more than he’d even dreamed, and yet she still talked to him as if she cared for him.
In the end, was he any better than his dat? He stopped, struck by the thought. He’d never considered that he could be like him but was there much difference? While he’d never been verbally abusive to Lavina, wasn’t the emotional pain he’d caused her just as bad?
He stood there staring unseeing out the window. Was it women’s lot in life to put up with men such as his dat and him?
***
Lavina walked into Stitches in Time, a big box of quilts in his arms. Her eyes widened. “Jenny! I haven’t seen you in weeks!”
“I know. I’ve been finishing up a book deadline.”
There were no celebrities in the Amish community, but Jenny was well-known for her books that touched many in and out of it. She’d come here as an Englisch television reporter injured in a bomb blast overseas, and while staying with her Amish grossmudder, fell in love with the boy next door and joined the Amish church.
Jenny held a cute little boy in her arms. She looked too young to be a grossmudder.
Lavina set the box down on
the counter. “Is Leah here today?” she asked, glancing around.
“Yes. She just went into the back to get a special order for me. Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“It’s a busy time of year. My schweschders and I are grateful for the work—work we love.”
Jenny smiled. “There’s nothing better, is there? Doing work we love. I hear you’re finding time to help Kate with her special project.”
“I’m enjoying it. I don’t know how much help I’m actually being.”
“I’m sure you’re a lot of help. The women are learning new skills that may help them get jobs, and everyone needs to do something they enjoy—just for themselves.” She looked at the box. “Can I peek at what you’ve brought in today?”
“Schur. I have another box I need to bring in.”
Jenny lifted the lid. “Need some help?”
“Nee, I can manage.”
“I love this one,” Jenny said, running a hand reverently over the quilt on top. “Oh, I think I’m going to have to ask Leah if I can buy it if she hasn’t got a commission for it.”
“Danki, but maybe you want to wait until you see all of them,” Lavina said. “I’ll be right back.”
When Lavina returned, Leah was standing at the front counter watching Jenny admiring the quilts in the first box. She set the second on the counter and Jenny gleefully opened the second box.
“Beautiful work, just beautiful.”
“No one sews finer quilts than Lavina and her schweschders. Lavina, I told Jenny no one had commissioned the quilt she likes so she may buy it.” She watched Jenny lift another from the second box, and her faded blue eyes gleamed. “If you buy two you can have a discount.”
Jenny glanced up. “Oh, you are such a crafty shopkeeper, Leah. How much of a discount?”
“Fifteen percent.”
“Make it twenty and you have a deal.”
“You are such a crafty customer, Jenny.” But Leah wore a satisfied smile as she rang up the order.
“I have two very special people these are going to for Christmas,” Jenny said as she handed over her credit card.
She gazed around the shop, looked out the windows at the people passing by carrying shopping bags.
“I wouldn’t be here, in this community, married to the man I love, with the children and grandchildren I have, if my grandmother hadn’t sent me a quilt when I was lying injured in a hospital. She sent a note with it telling me to come home and heal.”
She shook her head and smiled mistily as she took back the card and tucked it into her purse. “What a plan God had for me, and it started with a quilt from my grandmother.”
She gathered up her bags. “See you both at church on Sunday.”
Lavina walked around the shop, a wicker basket on her arm, choosing a few items as Leah insisted on writing her a check before she left.
“Christmas gifts?” Leah asked when she rang up the contents of Lavina’s basket.
She nodded. Some of them were going to be early presents, she’d decided. She couldn’t wait to give them out.
Kate apologized when she arrived late to the class. “Sorry. I had a court date this morning and then I had to change.” She glanced at the shopping bags in Lavina’s hands. “What’s all that?”
Lavina shrugged. “I just got a few things.”
“Now don’t you go feeling like you have to spend money bringing things to the class.”
“One bag is some fabric we had lying around. You know how it is. Everybody who quilts or sews ends up with too much fabric. Daed said he’s going to have to add on another room if we keep buying fabric.”
“Malcolm built some shelves in the closet of his man cave for my fabric.”
“Man cave?”
Kate laughed. “He likes to call our den his man cave. He sits in there watching football games with his friends on the weekends. I swear, the TV in there is almost as big as a movie screen. Fortunately he isn’t as rabid about the games as some men.”
She parked in the driveway of the shelter and helped Lavina carry one of the shopping bags. “Some of the women in here have been abused by their husbands and boyfriends after the big bowl games. The men drink too much and get too upset about their teams losing.” She shook her head. “For some it doesn’t take much for them to think they can use a woman for a punching bag.”
Lavina made a practice of being grateful for her life, for the people in it. She felt especially grateful after hearing things like that. She was beginning to think what had started out as a way to volunteer was turning out to be an opportunity for her to think about being grateful for the people and things she had in her life . . .
A few more women had joined the group. Kate introduced herself and Lavina and then welcomed them. The next few minutes were busy as the aims of the class were explained and the new quilt blocks were handed out.
Ellie sat in a chair near the back, swinging her legs as she watched her mother sew.
When the class settled down Kate and Lavina took seats at a front table. Kate pulled out the quilt she was making for a wounded soldier. Lavina reached into one of her shopping bags.
“I bought something for you,” she whispered. “Well, it’s for you to give to a certain someone.”
Kate set the quilt aside and studied the package Lavina handed her. “Oh, a kid’s beginner quilt kit! How clever! For Ellie, right?”
Lavina nodded.
“That’s sweet, Lavina. Let me pay you back.”
She shook her head. “It’s my gift to you to give to her. I see how much you enjoy getting someone excited about sewing and quilting.”
“Someone did that for me when I was a little girl,” Kate said. “There was this dime store in the small town where I grew up. It had a fabric and craft section, and I became fascinated with all the fabric and patterns. I would use my allowance to buy an eighth or a quarter of a yard of material and make dresses for my Barbie doll. I thought I might be a designer when I grew up. The clerk there was always encouraging me and having me bring in the doll to show her what I’d made.”
She glanced up and scanned the room to see if anyone needed help. Everywhere they looked heads were bent and sewing machines whirred.
“Anyway, one day my mother went with me, and when I went to the fabric counter and asked the clerk to cut an eighth of a yard, she got embarrassed and began apologizing to her. But the woman said she was so happy to see someone young interested in sewing. She was the first to encourage me to try quilting. And the rest, as they say, is history. I started taking classes with Naomi at Stitches in Time when I moved here, and it’s my place to get away for some quiet time with friends each week.” She grinned. “Kind of like Malcolm’s man cave and football games but quieter. And no beer.”
She got up. “I think I’ll go see if Ellie’s interested in learning to quilt.”
And if Lavina knew Kate as she was coming to, she’d interest Ellie in quilting and she’d make a friend as well.
7
David woke suddenly in the middle of the night. He lay there, staring into the dark, wondering what had woken him.
There was a rap on his bedroom door “David?”
“Kumm.” He sat up in bed, reaching for the battery-operated lamp on his bedside table.
His mother opened the door and stuck her head into the room. “David, I need help. Your dat’s sick.”
“I’ll be right there.” He threw back the covers and reached for the flannel robe he kept at the end of the bed.
He heard retching noises as he approached the bathroom. His mother hovered over his father who was kneeling on the floor in front of the toilet.
“Sometimes chemo affects him like this,” she told David as he stepped into the small room. She turned and ran cold water over a washcloth and pressed it to Amos’s neck.
“Leave me alone!” he snapped. “I’ll be fine. Give me that and get out of here.”
Waneta did as he asked, moving out into the hallway.
; He wiped his face then tossed the cloth into the bathtub. “It’s stopped.”
As he struggled to his feet he turned and saw David. “What are you doing in here? I don’t need you.”
Then he swayed and would have fallen if David hadn’t reached out and grasped his arms. “Let me help you back to bed.”
“I said I don’t need your help.” He shoved at David’s hands but there was little strength in him.
“You might not want my help, but you need it,” David said, not taking offense. “Let me help you. Mamm looks exhausted.”
Amos grunted. “She didn’t need to get up with me.”
Obviously she had, David thought. The man was so weak he could have fallen right into the toilet.
As they moved into the hallway Waneta hurried ahead to smooth the sheets on her mann’s side of the bed. Then, once he lay down on the bed, she covered him with the quilt. “Can I get you anything?”
“Water,” he said gruffly. She handed him the glass on the bedside table and he drank, then sank back against the pillows. He glared at David. “You can go now.”
His mother started to say something to him, but David shook his head at her. He didn’t need his dat’s thanks. Didn’t want them.
“Hope you feel better,” he said simply. He glanced at his mother. “Let me know if you need me.”
She nodded, sending him a grateful smile.
David walked out of the room and as he neared the bathroom his steps slowed. It wasn’t a pleasant job cleaning it up, but it only took a few minutes and he figured it saved his mother from having to do it. And he reasoned she’d probably had to do it a number of times for him when he’d been sick as a kind.
She appeared in the doorway just as he finished. “Oh. Danki.”
“Go on to bed,” he told her. “I might not be as good at cleaning as you, but this is gut enough for tonight. Get some sleep.”
“You too.”
He watched her as she turned and trudged back to the master bedroom. She smiled before she went inside and shut the door.
Caring for his dat was taking such a toll on her. Here he’d been depressed and feeling sorry for himself. . . . His dat had rejected his help earlier; he wasn’t any more pleasant than he’d been before he left home. Nothing had changed.
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