Anna's Healing

by Vannetta Chapman

  “Morning, Anna.” Clarence’s voice was soft and Southern, reminding Chloe of molasses.

  He lowered the lift with a button inside the door. Chloe pushed the chair onto the lift and Clarence locked the chair into place with clamps on the floor. “Don’t want you flying about,” he said and offered a toothy grin.

  When Chloe climbed into the van beside her, Anna turned to her in surprise. “I thought you’d take your own car.”

  “Nope. When we come back, I’m staying for dinner. Your aenti already asked and I agreed. I hear that Mammi is making a buttermilk pie.”

  “Ya. Very fattening.”

  “Are you saying I’m fat?”

  “I’m saying we’ll need to go light on your mother’s lunch if we’re planning on Mammi’s pie.”

  “No worries. Mom always makes salads for lunch.”

  After watching Chloe buckle up, Clarence slammed the van door shut. He jumped into the driver’s seat, put on his own seat belt, and started the engine.

  Butterflies fluttered in Chloe’s stomach. What was that about?

  Ever since she was a small girl, she’d had quirky, butterfly-like feelings when something good was about to happen. Maybe it was excitement about an unusual day, or maybe some part of her could actually tell when life was about to take a big turn.

  CHAPTER 30

  Chloe’s mom lived on the eastern edge of Tulsa, not far from the farm. When she opened the door to her home, Anna almost giggled. Looking at Chloe’s mom was like seeing a mirror image of Chloe.

  They both had bouncy black curls, slim figures, and a no-nonsense attitude. Chloe’s mom introduced herself as Teri, wore small reader glasses, and had soft lines around her eyes. Anna guessed she was probably in her mid-fifties.

  Anna noticed that when Chloe and her mom hugged, something passed between them. What? It was almost as if they were tentative around each other, unsure how to act or what to say. Now that she thought about it, Chloe had not talked much about her mom other than to reveal that she was a quilter.

  “It’s about time I met you, Anna.” She bent down and enfolded Anna in a hug. “I’ve been praying for you, child.”

  “Danki.”

  “And I would have visited, but Chloe tells me you’re still adjusting to all the therapy sessions and doctor appointments.”

  “Ya, it is a lot of coming and going.” She motioned toward her legs, and then she remembered her manners, which did not include keeping the conversation on herself. “It’s nice to have a day away from the house.”

  “Understandable. I was on bed rest when I was pregnant with Chloe. At the time I thought I might lose my mind being confined to one spot for so long. Once she was born and consuming all my time, I wished for a day in bed.”

  “Are you saying I was a lot of trouble?”

  “I would never say that, darling.” Teri smiled and motioned toward the living room. “I’ve set out some iced tea. It’s sweetened with fresh raspberries and oranges. Of course, if you’d like something different…”

  “The tea sounds gut.” Anna’s eyes widened as Chloe pushed her chair into the sitting room. Unlike Amish homes, Teri’s was decorated with a soft mocha color on the walls. Large bay windows sported sheer curtains to soften the morning sun, and dark green curtains across the top and sides complemented the earth tones nicely.

  Anna had only been in a few Englisch houses. Many of them were overdecorated, in her opinion. Not Teri’s. The room was open, airy, and held enough color to brighten but not overwhelm.

  The tea was fresh, and the fruit added a lovely flavor. Anna’s shoulders relaxed, and she temporarily forgot to worry about the many problems in her life.

  They talked about the wet summer they’d had and changes in Cody’s Creek, which included a remodel of the public library and the building of a new strip mall.

  “Mom’s particularly interested in the shopping center because it’s going to include a quilt shop.”

  “Ya? I hadn’t heard—”

  “I only know because my daughter interviewed the man who manages and leases the shops.” Teri smiled at Chloe. “I get inside information.”

  “Everyone will know Friday when the paper comes out,” Chloe reminded her. Turning her attention to Anna, she added, “The other businesses will include a yogurt shop, an optometrist, and a nail salon.”

  “Can’t say I’ll use the nail salon,” Teri studied her nails, which she kept neat and filed but unadorned by polish. “The quilt shop will be a huge blessing.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather go to a store in Tulsa?” Anna asked.

  Teri tilted her head as if considering. “There are several fabric stores in the city, but I’d prefer to drive to Cody’s Creek. It’s the same distance and a much pleasanter trip.”

  Anna said, “We buy our fabric at Bylers’ Dry Goods.”

  “I’ve been there a few times, but never to purchase fabric.”

  “Rebecca carries mostly solid colors because that’s what we use in our clothing and our quilts.”

  “Do you quilt, Anna?”

  Chloe and Anna shared a smile.

  “I quilt a little.” Anna hesitated, sipped her tea, and finally continued. “My mamm taught me. All Amish girls learn to quilt, but I was never very good at it. I quickly grow bored using the same colors and patterns. When I came here, I was happy to help with the produce booth rather than spend my time with fabric.”

  Teri nodded as if she understood, and maybe she did. Anna thought she was an intriguing woman.

  Chloe had mentioned during one of their porch talks that her father had died a few years before after a long struggle with multiple sclerosis. When Anna had asked questions, Chloe changed the subject. She’d noticed that Chloe did that when asked any questions about her family—she clammed up or responded with a question about something else.

  Teri seemed to have recovered completely from the shock of becoming a rather young widow. There wasn’t even a hint of bitterness in her demeanor. Was it because of her faith? The cross and a framed Bible verse on the wall behind them indicated she was a Christian. Had that helped her? Or did her personality allow her to accept trouble more easily than others, more easily than Anna?

  “I’m pleased you wanted to come see my little operation. I don’t consider myself a master quilter, but I’m proud of what we’ve been able to do.”

  Anna glanced at Chloe, uncertain how to respond. They had an operation? Who was the we she referred to?

  “Mom, I think you’re baffling Anna. Why don’t we show her what you’re talking about?”

  “Absolutely, and then we’ll have lunch. I’ve made a cranberry walnut salad.”

  Chloe once again pushed Anna’s chair. The house was on a single level with a somewhat open floor plan. Anna could see the dining room and the kitchen from where she sat, but Chloe turned her in the opposite direction.

  “This was originally a den when Chloe’s father was alive. I’ve been quilting in a casual way for about ten years. When I first started, I used a small bedroom at the back of the house. After I opted for early retirement from teaching, quilting became more than a hobby. Then Gus died two years ago, and I decided to convert the den into a quilting room.”

  It had only been two years since Chloe’s father passed? Anna turned to look at her friend, but she was quietly studying her nails.

  “The light is good in this room.” Teri added, “Gus always teased that I had my eye on his space.”

  Chloe walked back behind Anna’s chair and pushed her through a wide double doorway into a room that literally took Anna’s breath away. Stunned, she put her hand on the top of the wheel to stop the chair.

  “I’ve got it now, Chloe.”

  The room was beautiful—wide windows on one side and double doors that led out to a veranda on the other. There was certainly a lot of light. A sewing machine sat on an L-shaped table in one corner of the room. A third wall was covered with felt, and that seemed to be where Teri placed her quilts as she
sewed them. A countertop had been built along the fourth wall. This was where she cut her fabric. Under the countertop were dozens of clear plastic bins filled with supplies.

  All of those details passed through Anna’s mind quickly. The quilts, on the other hand, amazed her. She slowly rolled her chair from one to another, drinking in the sight of them.

  A teddy bear flannel print, cut into large half squares, placed in a V shape, alternated with bright green fabric and was trimmed in yellow rickrack.

  A nine patch made from bright calico prints.

  A cat print, alternated with polka dots and used in an hourglass pattern.

  “What is this one?” She’d stopped in front of a quilt that reminded her of a large garden. The colors were haphazardly placed, and the effect was delicious.

  “That’s a string quilt. It’s how I use all of my leftover pieces. They’re very easy to make.”

  Some of the quilts were hung from a long wooden strip fastened across the top of one wall. Others had been folded and stacked on top of a cabinet. More were draped over two chairs. They filled the room with their color and energy.

  Anna rolled to the wall that held a covered board from floor to ceiling.

  “This is my design wall.”

  Anna reached out and touched the cloth that covered the design wall. “This fabric—”

  “It’s felt, which allows me to place smaller pieces on there without pins in the early stages of a quilt. Once I’ve begun sewing the blocks, I usually do pin them. This way I can see the quilt and decide if I like the color placement before I actually start sewing.”

  Anna nodded and rolled her chair in front of a white board that held a chart of sorts. On the left-hand side was a list of names, to the right were the words—“requested,” “designed,” “pieced,” “quilted,” and “mailed.”

  “Mom likes to have several projects going at once.” Chloe seemed more relaxed now that they were in the quilt room. In fact, it was obvious that she was proud of her mother. “The board helps to keep her organized.”

  “Yes, charting my projects was Chloe’s stroke of genius. I was always forgetting that I had started something until I came across it in another pile.”

  Taped to the top of the white board was a picture of a child, fingers in one mouth and clutching a blanket with his other hand. The words “Project Linus” were written across the top of the board next to the picture.

  “They’re all for children.” Anna scanned the names again—Ben, Candace, Stefanie, Mandi, Baby Joe. She turned her chair in a circle so that she was facing Teri. “Your board is full of children’s names, and the quilts. They’re all done in patterns and colors that will please young ones.”

  “Yes. That’s what Project Linus does. We provide blankets or quilts to seriously ill or traumatized children.”

  “We?”

  “I’m a blanketeer—officially. Project Linus actually began in 1998, well before I became involved. Today there are chapters in all fifty states. I can give you some brochures on it if you’re interested.”

  Anna nodded but didn’t say anything else. Instead, she turned to look at the quilts again. Then her gaze drifted toward the list of names.

  Since her accident she had forgotten that other people were hurting. Her focus had been completely on herself—her problems, her pains, and the unfairness of her life. She’d struggled and cried and confessed and prayed, but always the focus had been on her. For the first time in many months, her mind and heart were flooded with sympathy for others.

  “Mom runs the Tulsa County chapter—”

  “I have plenty of help. I don’t make all of the blankets myself.”

  “Helpers come here?” Anna glanced around the room. It was large, but she didn’t think it would hold a lot of quilters.

  “No. Mostly we communicate via phone, email, and texts. But I stop in and visit the area groups when I’m in Tulsa or Oklahoma City.”

  “Mom stays very busy.”

  “It’s difficult to fill all the requests we receive, but we come closer to that goal every year.”

  “You’re a very gut quilter.”

  “Thank you. The patterns aren’t intricate. After all, a child doesn’t care how expert we are at cutting triangles or quilting elaborate designs. They merely want something that will make them smile on a gloomy day.” She stopped and allowed her gaze to drift around the room. “Working with the Project Linus is something I enjoy doing. The focus isn’t on the quality of the quilt, but rather on the love and prayers that go into each one.”

  Anna nodded again as if it all made sense, but she had a lot of questions. Of course, her community made quilts for benefit auctions. There had been quite a few sold at the auction to help with her medical bills. But this was different. This was strangers helping one another on a regular basis.

  “You girls must be starved. Anna, would you like to wash up before we eat?”

  “Ya. That would be good.” She was surprised to see that the bathroom was outfitted for a handicapped person with support bars next to the toilet, a step-in shower with a seat, and a low sink that she could roll up to and wash at. Chloe had told her once that her father was wheelchair bound for several years. This house must have been adapted to accommodate his handicap.

  She washed up quickly, comforted by the fact that if she did need to use the toilet it wouldn’t be too cumbersome to do so.

  The meal was filling and delicious. Anna forgot to wonder about calories and happily devoured cheese, crackers, and a second helping of salad.

  They talked about Chloe’s latest assignments and Teri’s recent scare over an irregular mammogram.

  “They decided it was nothing but a calcium deposit.”

  “I’m sure you were relieved.”

  “I was, but it gave me a lot of empathy for women going through breast cancer—for men and women going through any types of cancer. Gus’s illness was… well, it was different.”

  Chloe stood to remove dishes as her mother spoke. It was clear she wasn’t comfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

  “The important thing was that we had time together,” Teri continued. “We didn’t worry about the end until the last few months. Gus was able to spend the days he had left with our family, those we loved, and with me.”

  By the time Chloe returned from the kitchen, their conversation had circled back around to Project Linus.

  “It’s very interesting,” Anna admitted. “I like the idea of making something for hurting children, of being able to help someone else.”

  Chloe beamed as Teri leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. “I’d love to have your help, Anna. Do you think you’d like to make a quilt for us?”

  “Oh. I don’t know. That is, I’d love to…” Anna stared down at the table. “It’s only that I’m not making any money, and I hate to ask for anything else from my aenti and onkel.”

  Glancing back up, she continued, “I wouldn’t be able to buy the supplies, though the Lord knows I have plenty of time on my hands.”

  Teri stood and pushed in her chair. “Supplies? That’s not a problem.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Jacob noticed a dramatic change in Anna over the next few days as she began to make quilts for children. She was engaged and excited for the first time since the accident. Gone were the times when she stared off into space, her hands motionless in her lap and her face blank of expression. It was as if she’d rejoined them, as if she’d picked up the pieces of her life and was eager to start living again.

  Mornings were still occasionally difficult. Twice he’d heard Mammi mention the nightmares that were plaguing her, but he hadn’t had a chance to discuss them with Anna. They had very little time together—nowhere near what he would have liked.

  He vowed he would speak with her alone after Sunday’s worship service.

  He’d glanced at her occasionally throughout the singing and during the sermons. Once he looked across the room to see her wiping t
ears from her cheeks. Another time she had been staring down at the open Bible in her lap. He considered all of this an improvement. At previous services she’d stared straight ahead and said little, never participating in the singing. Today, he thought he could pick her voice out from the others—not especially loud, but with a certain ring to it. He might have been imagining that—how could he possibly tell one voice from another? Still, in matters of Anna, it seemed he could.

  Now she sat at the end of one of the luncheon tables. There was a plate of food in front of her, but her attention was momentarily occupied by a small passel of young children

  Jacob stopped a few feet behind her chair and listened.

  “Why don’t your legs work?” One of the boys asked.

  “Your mind sends a message down your back.” She touched her head and a point on her back just below her neck. “Since I was thrown to the ground, the messages don’t carry so well.”

  One little girl’s eyes widened, and she exclaimed, “I never want that to happen to me!”

  The girl’s blunt statement didn’t seem to upset Anna. Instead, she nodded slightly and said, “I would never want it to happen to you, either.”

  “How fast can you make that chair go?” Another boy asked.

  Anna didn’t answer immediately, so Jacob used the moment to interrupt.

  “I think that’s enough questions for now. If Anna doesn’t eat, she won’t have the energy to roll her chair anywhere.”

  Somber faces nodded in understanding. One of them was called away by his mother. The rest soon followed.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Anna waved to the area the children had vacated. “Sure. Have a seat.”

  “You handled that well.”

  “The kinner are only curious. They mean no harm by their questions.”

  “Indeed.”

  Anna bit into a piece of fried chicken, studying him thoughtfully while she chewed.

  “What? Am I wearing my food?” He swiped at his chin with a napkin.

  “Nein. You haven’t started eating yet. How could you be?”