The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Goshen

  When Ruby Lee entered the room where Gene had been examined, she found him sitting on the edge of the table buttoning his shirt.

  “What happened?” she asked, rushing to his side, wanting to help with the buttons.

  He waved his hand. “Don’t look so worried; I’m not going to die. The doctor said I had an anxiety attack, but I’m feeling much better.”

  “What brought that on?” she asked. “Did something happen during the board meeting to upset you?”

  “Yeah. The subject of adding on to the church came up again, and we ended up in an explosive meeting. I think all the bickering got to me, because my chest tightened up and I felt woozy and like I couldn’t breathe.”

  Ruby Lee clutched his arm. “This whole mess with the church isn’t good for your health. Surely you can see that. How much longer do you intend to put yourself through this, Gene?”

  “I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You might be fine now, but what about the next time? You could end up really having a heart attack if you keep subjecting yourself to all this conflict with the board members. Won’t you reconsider and look for another church? And what about me? I don’t know what I would do if I lost you—especially over something like this.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve told you before, God called me to shepherd this flock, and until He releases me from that call, I’m staying put.”

  “What about the plans you have for adding on to the church? Are you going to keep fighting for it or let the idea go by the wayside?”

  “I don’t know. I’m trusting God to give me further direction, and I feel confident that everything will work out as it should—for our church building, our congregation, and for us, Ruby Lee.”

  I wish I had your optimism, she thought. If I believed for one minute that it would do any good, I’d speak to each of the board members right now and give them a piece of my mind!

  Shipshewana

  By the time Jan turned onto the road his house was on, he was out of breath from peddling his bike so hard. After he’d left Emma’s, he’d gone to the intersection where Paul had seen the dead dog, needing to know if it was Brutus who’d been hit by a car. But the only sign of the accident was a large bloodstain on the pavement. The body of the dog was gone. He could hardly look at the crimson spot without imagining his faithful pet lying there lifeless. It had been all he could do to call the Humane Society and ask if they had his dog. He’d been told that a German shepherd had been killed and brought in earlier today, but since there were no tags or license to identify the dog’s owner, they’d already disposed of the body.

  It’s just as well that I didn’t see the dog’s remains, Jan thought. If it was Brutus, I don’t think I coulda stood seein’ him lyin’ there, dead.

  Another thought popped into his head. Maybe I’ll find Brutus at home, safe in his pen, and then all my worries will have been for nothin’.

  Even though Jan hardly ever prayed, he found himself thinking, Please, Lord, don’t let my dog be dead.

  Anxious to see if Brutus was there, Jan didn’t bother to stop at the mailbox. Instead, he pedaled quickly up the driveway and halted the bike, letting it fall in front of the dog pen. It was empty. No Brutus in sight.

  “Brutus, where are you boy?” Jan called, hoping against hope that the dog might be somewhere on the property or at least close by. This was one time he wished Brutus was roaming the neighborhood, looking for something he could carry off and bring home.

  Still no response to Jan’s call.

  Jan clapped, hollered the dog’s name several more times, and gave a shrill whistle. Nothing. Not a whimper or a bark.

  “Oh man,” he moaned. “Brutus is dead, and it’s all my fault. If I’d only done somethin’ right away to keep him in his pen, this wouldn’t have happened. Now it’s too late, and I’ve lost my best friend.”

  Jan tried his best not to get choked up, wondering what his friend Terry would think if he stopped by and saw him blubbering like a baby. But Jan couldn’t seem to help himself. That four-legged animal had gotten inside his heart, and he was miserable without him.

  Jan looked up and noticed his cranky neighbor, Selma, peeking around the curtain in her kitchen window. Did she know Brutus was gone? When she found out he was dead, she’d probably be glad. He wished that he’d had the smarts to get a license and some ID tags for Brutus. At least then the Humane Society could have called and let him know when the dog was brought in.

  Jan felt so miserable he was tempted to go in the house and drown his sorrows in a few beers. But what good would that do? It wouldn’t bring Brutus back, and it would only dull the pain for a little while. No, he was better off without the beer and may as well face this thing head-on. It wasn’t like the dog’s death had been the only disappointment he’d ever had to face. Jan had faced a lot of disappointments along the way.

  CHAPTER 19

  When Emma woke up on Sunday morning, it was all she could do to get out of bed. She’d been extremely tired when she went to sleep last night and felt a strange tingling sensation along part of her waist. This morning her symptoms had increased, and her ears were ringing, too. She figured the fatigue could be from working too hard and not getting enough sleep, but she didn’t like the constant irritation bothering her stomach. Maybe she hadn’t gotten all the soap out when she’d washed clothes the other day. Could she be having an allergic reaction?

  Maybe I shouldn’t go to church today, Emma told herself as she ambled out to the kitchen. Might be best if I stay home and rest—just in case I’m coming down with something contagious. But I’ll need to let Mary know.

  Emma filled the teakettle with water and set it on stove, and while the water heated, she got dressed. She’d just set her head covering in place when she heard the teakettle whistle.

  Returning to the kitchen, she poured the water into a ceramic teapot, dropped a tea bag in, and went out the back door.

  When Emma entered Mary’s yard, she was greeted by her fourteen-year-old grandson, Stephen, who was leading one of their buggy horses out of the barn.

  “Guder mariye, Grossmammi,” he said cheerfully. “Are you comin’ over to our house for friehschtick?”

  Emma shook her head. “No breakfast this morning. I just need to speak to your mamm.”

  Stephen pointed to the house. “She’s probably in the kitchen. Would you tell her I’ll be in as soon as I get Dan hitched to the buggy?”

  “Jah, I sure will.” Emma, feeling even wearier than before, stepped onto the back porch. When she entered the kitchen, she found her two young granddaughters, Lisa and Sharon, setting the table, while Mary stood at the counter cracking hard-boiled eggs.

  “Guder mariye, Mom,” Mary said, turning to smile at Emma. “Will you be joining us for frieschtick?”

  Emma shook her head. “I’m not feeling like myself this morning, so I’m just going to have a cup of tea and stretch out on the sofa.”

  “Are you grank?” Mary’s dark eyes revealed the depth of her concern.

  “I’m not sure if I’m sick or not. Just feel really tired, and my skin feels kind of prickly right here.” Emma touched the left side of her stomach.

  “Have you checked for any kind of a rash?” Mary questioned.

  “Jah, but I didn’t see anything. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m wondering if you might be coming down with shingles again. It seems to me when you had them before you mentioned your skin felt prickly at first.”

  Emma frowned. She’d come down with shingles a week after Ivan died and had been absolutely miserable. “I do hope it’s not shingles again. I sure don’t have time for that right now.”

  “Nobody has time to be grank, Grossmammi,” Lisa spoke up. “But when it happens, there ain’t much you can do about it.”

  “Isn’t,” Mary corrected. She looked back at Emma. “If you’re not feeling well, would you like me to come over to your house and fix you something to eat
before we leave for church?”

  Emma shook her head. “I’ll be fine with the tea, and maybe I’ll have a piece of toast.”

  “All right then, but I’ll be over to check on you sometime after we get home,” Mary said.

  “Stop by if you must, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Emma patted the top of Lisa’s head and then turned toward the door.

  Lingering on Mary’s porch to take in the quiet of the morning, Emma leaned her head on the railing post and breathed in the heavy scent of lilacs that had been blooming along the fence for the last week. Overhead in the trees, the red-winged blackbirds sang, Jubile-e-e! Jubile-e-e! Pausing to enjoy peaceful moments like this could make up for any day that had started out wrong.

  Emma’s weariness increased, so she didn’t linger long. Approaching her own back porch, she’d just made it to the first step when a wave of dizziness caught her off-balance. She quickly grabbed for the railing, thankful that she was able to keep from falling over.

  Please, just let me get into my house.

  The wooden boards creaked beneath her feet as she took each step slowly, inching her way up, still wavering. At the door, she closed her eyes for a minute, steadying herself and breathing deeply. Relieved when the dizziness started to fade, she was able to enter the house.

  When Emma stepped into the kitchen, she checked the teapot. The tea was plenty well steeped, so she poured herself a cup, fixed a piece of toast, and took a seat at the table. Then she bowed her head for silent prayer.

  When she finished eating, she put the dishes in the sink and took the rest of her tea to the living room.

  Emma yawned. Unable to keep her eyes open, she removed her head covering, stretched out on the sofa, and closed her eyes. The gentle breeze blowing softly through her open living room window, the smell of fresh air, and the melody of birds singing outside in the maple tree at the corner of her yard were all she needed to lull her into a deep slumber. The last thing she remembered hearing was the distant sound of her goats in some unknown conversation with each other out in their pen.

  Sometime later, Emma was awakened by a knock on the door. Still half-asleep and thinking it was probably Mary or someone from her family, she called, “Come in!”

  Emma was surprised when Lamar stepped into the room.

  She sat up quickly, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress and setting her head covering in place. “Ach, I didn’t expect it was you.”

  “Sorry if I startled you,” he said. “I spoke to Mary after church, and she said you’d stayed home because you weren’t feeling well.”

  “I’m just a little under the weather. I don’t think it’s anything serious.”

  “You look mied,” he said with a look of concern. “Have you been doing too much lately?”

  Emma’s spine stiffened as her defenses rose. “I have not been doing too much, and I’m feeling less tired after taking a nap.”

  “I’m worried about you, Emma.”

  “Well, you needn’t be. I’m fine.”

  Lamar shifted his weight a few times as though uncertain of what to say next. “Well, uh … guess I’ll be going.”

  “I appreciate you stopping by,” Emma said, knowing she couldn’t be rude.

  Lamar was almost to the door when he turned back around. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

  She gave a brief nod.

  When Lamar went out the door, Emma leaned her head against the back of the sofa and moaned. Won’t that man ever take the hint? I am not interested in a relationship with him, and I don’t want him to do anything but leave me alone.

  Goshen

  As Ruby Lee stood at the back of the church with Gene, greeting people as they filed out of the sanctuary, a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. Gene had preached a meaningful sermon this morning, and yet not one person had even uttered an amen. Normally their church was a lively place where people often shouted amen and hallelujah. Not today, however. You could have heard a feather fall all the way from heaven the entire time Gene had been preaching. Was it his topic—stepping out in faith—or was it the fact that there had been so much gossip circulating about their pastor wanting to get the church into debt?

  Whatever the case, Ruby Lee couldn’t help but notice that some of the congregation had slipped out the side door rather than going through the line to greet their pastor and his wife. This only confirmed to Ruby Lee that she and Gene ought to leave this church, because she was quite sure that’s what most folks wanted them to do.

  Why couldn’t Gene see that, too? Did he enjoy going through all this misery with no end in sight? Did he think the Lord would bless him for his diligence and playing the role of martyr? Ruby Lee knew that if Gene was going to stay here, then she had to as well because her place was at her husband’s side. She was glad their boys were away at college and couldn’t see how their father was being treated. She was sure it would have hurt them as much as it did her, and they probably would have been more vocal about it than she had been. It surprised her even more that only a short time ago these same church people who were now ignoring them and saying hurtful things about them had been their good friends. Or at least she’d thought they had been.

  Drawing in a quick breath and plastering a smile on her face, Ruby Lee reached for the next person’s hand. “Good morning, Mrs. Dooley. May God bless you, and I hope you have a good week.”

  Mishawaka

  Pam tiptoed down the stairs. She’d just checked on Sherry and found her sleeping peacefully upstairs in her room. After Sherry had finished eating a little oatmeal for breakfast, she’d climbed back into bed with her favorite stuffed animal and fallen asleep. So far no one else in the family had gotten sick, and Pam hoped it stayed that way. Stuart thought maybe they should have moved Sherry to the spare bedroom next to theirs, but Pam had decided to sleep in Devin’s room, which was across the hall from Sherry’s, while Devin slept in the guest room downstairs.

  Feeling the need for a little time to herself, Pam went to the living room, grabbed a book she’d been wanting to read, and curled up on the couch. Stuart and Devin were in the yard playing catch, so the house was peaceful and quiet.

  Pam had only been reading a few minutes when Stuart entered the room and bent to nuzzle her cheek.

  “Stop it. I’m busy right now,” she mumbled.

  “Doesn’t look like you’re busy to me. Looks like you’ve got your nose in a book.”

  “That’s right, and it’s the first minute I’ve really had to myself since Sherry got sick on Friday, so if you don’t mind—”

  Stuart flopped onto the other end of the couch. “How’s our little gal doing?” he asked, lifting one of Pam’s feet and starting to rub it.

  “Better. She kept the oatmeal down that I gave her earlier.”

  “That’s good to hear. Unless she has a relapse, you should be able to go to the quilt class this Saturday.”

  “Yes, but I wish you were going with me.”

  “I’m considering it.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

  He gave a nod. “I felt more relaxed there yesterday than I did the week before.”

  “How come?”

  He cleared his throat a couple of times. “Well, it was nice to have the chance to just be myself.”

  “What are you saying—that you couldn’t be yourself when I was there?”

  “Yep, that’s pretty much the way it was.”

  Pam clenched her fingers tightly around the book, irritated with his answer. “Why can’t you be yourself when I’m there?”

  “Because I’m not comfortable with you telling everyone our problems and trying to make it look like I’m responsible for everything that’s gone wrong in our marriage.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “Yes you do, and it makes me feel awkward and stupid.”

  “Fine then, I won’t say a word about anything at the next quilt class. Will that make you happy?”

  “Yeah, sure �
�� like that’s ever gonna happen.” He picked up her other foot and began rubbing it, probably hoping it might soothe her tension, as it had when he’d rubbed her feet many times before.

  Pam’s irritation mounted, barely appreciating the foot massage, which at any other time would have been so relaxing that she’d have fallen asleep. “I could keep quiet throughout the whole class if I wanted to.”

  “Great. I’ll go with you next week, and then we’ll see.”

  She set the book aside and gave a nod. “It’s a deal!”

  Stuart pushed her feet aside and stood. “Now that I’ll have to see in order to believe.”

  Pam wrinkled her nose and caught herself just in time before sticking out her tongue.

  After Stuart left the room, she bolted upright. “Oh, great. What did I agree to now? Can I really keep quiet throughout the whole class?”

  CHAPTER 20

  Shipshewana

  On Monday morning, Emma still wasn’t feeling well, but she forced herself to get out of bed, fix breakfast, and do a few chores. She really needed to get some laundry done, but she wasn’t sure she had the energy for it.

  Emma stepped into her sewing room, took a seat in the rocking chair, and leaned her head back, feeling ever so drowsy. It had been a long time since she’d felt so fatigued. She was almost at the point of dozing off when she heard the back door open. A few seconds later, Mary entered the room. “I came over to see how you’re doing,” she said.

  Emma sighed. “Not as well as I’d like to be. I’m still awfully tired, and I haven’t even washed my clothes yet.”

  “I’ll do it, Mom.”

  Emma shook her head. “You have enough of your own work to do.”

  “My laundry is already out on the line, and I really don’t mind helping you.”

  “Oh, all right. You can wash the clothes, but I’m going to help you hang them on the line.” Emma didn’t know why it was so hard for her to accept Mary’s help. She never thought twice about helping others, yet when it came to being on the receiving end, she usually wanted to do things on her own. Even so, she appreciated her daughter. In fact, all her children would make any parent feel grateful. No matter how busy they were, they never hesitated to drop what they were doing if help was needed elsewhere. Emma just didn’t want to become a burden.