Sisters of the Quilt

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Dr. Greenfield turned to face her. “Are you sure going back is the right thing to do?”

  She nodded. “My family will do more for me than your whole staff can.”

  “Hannah, please. We could—”

  She held up her hand. “No more.”

  “If you’ll work with me, we can find all sorts of ways to help you. There are programs for rape victims, homes for unwed mothers, adoption agencies, and clinics that can offer you other … options.”

  She closed her eyes, knowing that none of those things would help her if Paul found out. “I’m going home, Dr. Greenfield.”

  “But, Hannah, you must be seen by a physician.”

  She crossed her arms against the nip in the air.

  He rubbed his forehead, looking resigned but not pleased. “You have my phone number in the book. If you need me for anything, Hannah, please call me.” He pulled a card from his wallet and held it out to her. “This is my private cell phone number.”

  She studied his face. “I’m glad we met, and I’ll always remember the nice English doctor at this hospital. But I won’t be seeing you again.”

  Hannah opened the potbellied stove and stirred the coals with the poker. Mary, sitting in her wheelchair by the window, kept a watchful eye on the driveway, waiting for Luke to arrive.

  She and Mary were living in the Yoders’ Daadi Haus—Mary’s grandmother’s home. Mammi Annie, Mary’s grandmother, had moved into the main house, a stone’s throw away, with Mary’s parents and brothers. The Daadi Haus was small, but the rooms were able to accommodate Mary’s wheelchair. The home had indoor plumbing and a bathroom off the bedroom that the two girls shared. It was a good setup, except that Hannah had to put forth extra effort to avoid Sarah’s beloved Jacob. Mary’s brother lived next door with his parents, so keeping her distance from him was a bit tricky, especially when he came to visit his sister. But Hannah thought she was managing that quite well and Sarah should be pleased.

  Between working with Mary several times a day on her physical therapy and using the kitchen and laundry room of the Daadi Haus to help Becky with the laundry, baking, and canning needs of the main house, Hannah felt as if the three weeks since they’d left the hospital had flown by.

  As time allowed, she and Mary worked on the “Past and Future” quilt. While Luke visited, Hannah made herself scarce by digging around in Mary’s grandmother’s attic for scraps of material from doll clothing she and Mary had sewn when they were young. She found the first apron they’d ever made and even pieces of a doll’s blanket they’d sewn.

  Luke.

  He hadn’t said anything unkind to Hannah, but he seemed a little angrier with her with each visit. Between Hannah disappearing to the attic when he came in and Luke keeping his visits short, they’d not talked about whatever was bothering him. She figured he was just grumpy from still being on certain medicines and from worrying about what Mary was going through.

  But his visits did give her time to search for material. She didn’t want just any fabric; it had to tie into Mary’s or Luke’s life. Mammi Annie had spread the word to the women of the community about what Hannah was doing. Pieces of material were coming to Hannah and Mary with notes on them as to how they were a part of Mary’s or Luke’s past.

  At this rate, the past side of the quilt would not lack for fabric. Now if she could figure out how to acquire plenty of material for the future side, the rest of her plan would come together.

  Neither her father nor the bishop had mentioned the incident with Dr. Greenfield. She was sure the event had looked lustful to them. Hannah refused to think about that day. She had become quite adept at tuning out things she didn’t want to think about, but the change didn’t feel like a victory.

  She set the pressing iron facedown on the stove and removed the handle. Hopefully no one would catch her ironing on a Sunday. She grabbed a split log from the woodbin beside the stove and tossed it onto the glowing embers. After closing the small metal door, she placed a few bricks on the back part of the flat stove and dusted off her hands with her apron.

  The house was especially quiet today. At nearly lunchtime, only she and Mary remained on the property. It was a no-church Sunday, so Mary’s family would spend the day out visiting, repaying folks—through words and homemade goodies—for the kindness they’d shown during this ordeal. In addition to helping Mary’s father with his farm during the weeks following the accident, their Amish neighbors had built a harness shop with attached living quarters for Luke and Mary after they were wed.

  Placing Mary’s cotton head scarf over the towel that lay on the ironing table, Hannah smoothed it as straight as possible with her fingers. Today held the promise of rekindling some of life’s joy. She would witness Mary seeing the harness shop for the first time. Mary wasn’t even aware that a living area above the shop had been built for them. From what John Yoder had told Hannah, Luke and Mary shouldn’t outgrow the small home until their third baby arrived. Hannah couldn’t wait to see Mary’s face when she saw her future home.

  After slipping the handle back onto the pressing iron, Hannah lifted the iron from the stove and worked the wrinkles out of the scarf. In spite of the nervous edge she felt concerning today’s trip, Hannah was confident that Mary had enough strength to endure the five-mile ride one way, though she would probably need a nap before heading back. But Mary needed to see firsthand the progress that had been made toward her future. Besides, Luke would no doubt mollycoddle Mary every step of the way.

  Hannah had to admit that her excitement wasn’t entirely on Mary’s behalf. The way Luke described the location of the shop made it sound as if it bordered Gram’s property and was in clear sight of her house. If that was true, surely Hannah could steal a visit to see her sometime today. She missed the elderly woman more than she’d expected to, and the need to see her grew with each passing day.

  Shifting her wheelchair slightly, Mary turned from the window. “Has Luke shown you this shop he’s so excited about?”

  “I haven’t stepped foot off this farm since we arrived here from the hospital,” Hannah said. She hoped her voice didn’t give away that there were troubled waters between her and Luke. She didn’t know what the problems were, but with secrets to keep hidden, silence was Hannah’s safest harbor. When May came, Paul would begin trying to win the approval of her family. In the meantime she needed to keep as much peace as possible between her and her family and the community.

  When the wrinkles were gone, Hannah flapped the material in the air to cool it. She looked forward to seeing her home again and getting out of this place for a bit. Mary’s progress had been better than Hannah could have imagined, but helping Mary maneuver to the bathroom at all hours of the night and day was taxing.

  Hannah crossed the room to Mary and tied the purple scarf over her head, being careful to cover the blond peach fuzz but not to bind the cloth around her skull too tightly.

  Mary was healing quickly. Hannah hadn’t needed to call the doctor’s office once, even though the bishop had approved the Yoders having a telephone installed only sixty feet from the house. Mary’s father and brothers had built a phone shanty—a wooden booth with windows. The phone company had come out and installed a black, push-button wall phone.

  Mary lifted her Kapp off her lap and handed it to Hannah. “Getting me ready would be easier if we didn’t need to attach the prayer covering to the bald-head covering.”

  Hannah took several straight pins from her pinafore and clenched them between her teeth, removing one at a time as she attached the Kapp to the head wrap. “Even the community’s most beloved princess must wear her prayer veil.” Hannah kissed Mary on the forehead.

  Mary ran her hands over her scarf and Kapp. “I’m going to do you a favor and not tell the bishop how cheeky you can get. Calling a dedicated Plain woman a princess …” She turned to face the window, keeping a sharp lookout for Luke.

  Hannah sat on the arm of the couch right behind her. It felt good to hear Mary
tease her. The fear that had threatened to take over Mary, the panic that wouldn’t let Hannah out of her sight, had slowly been replaced by a fragile peace as the People surrounded Mary with love.

  The sounds of horse’s hoofs and grinding gravel drew Hannah out of her musings.

  Mary’s pale face lit up. “He’s here. Grab the blankets and wheel me outside.”

  Hannah seized the stack of folded blankets off the couch and laid them in Mary’s lap. Grabbing their shawls off the coatrack, she mentally ran through her to-do list for today’s outing.

  Mary pounded the arms of her wheelchair. “Come on. Come on. What’s taking you so long?” Her jesting made Hannah’s day.

  She wheeled her friend toward the doorway. “If you had half this much enthusiasm for your therapy, I wouldn’t have to argue with you about it every day.”

  Mary scrunched her shoulders. “It’s a dreadful routine, and you know it.”

  Before Hannah reached the door, Luke tapped and then eased it open. He scanned Hannah disapprovingly before absorbing Mary like rain after a drought. “You’re looking mighty healthy today.” He strode inside. “Here, let me take those for you.” He lifted the blankets from her lap. “She’ll need some heated bricks for her feet.”

  Hannah wrapped the shawl around Mary’s shoulders. Then, like a maid, she shuffled off to the kitchen to finish her chores. While Luke took the blankets and Mary to the buggy, Hannah packed the bricks in old towels and finished gathering the picnic items.

  As she hurried through the house, she made a quick visual inspection of all the kerosene lamps, making sure they were out. Satisfied that everything was in order, Hannah pushed through the door.

  Luke loomed in front of her. “I’ll take that.”

  His voice was demanding, and Hannah knew that saying “thank you” was inappropriate. He lifted the basket from her.

  Hannah drew a deep breath to steady her hurt feelings. “She hasn’t heard one word about the apartment that’s been built for both of you. I can’t wait to see her face. Mary’s been through so much, and I—”

  Resentment entered Luke’s eyes, startling Hannah. “I think you’ve done more than enough.”

  He spoke as if correcting a dog, but why?

  Luke pointed his finger at her. “If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have been through so much, now, would she?” He turned his back on her and marched to the waiting buggy.

  Stunned, Hannah was unable to move. What could she have possibly done to make life harder on Mary? With her knees shaking, she stood on the porch watching Luke tenderly place the heated bricks under Mary’s feet and wrap her in blanket after blanket.

  When Luke began to shut the door on the buggy, Mary held up her hand, and Luke stopped. “Tell Hannah to come on. I’m eager to be on our way.”

  “Hannah will go another time. She needs to stay here.” Luke’s face became like granite as he faced her. “Isn’t that right, Sister?”

  How can Mary miss the venom in his voice?

  With heaviness bearing down on her, Hannah slowly walked to Mary’s side. “I think I’ll rest while you’re gone.”

  Compassion filled Mary’s eyes. “You deserve time to rest. I keep you up all night, and then I sleep during the day while you help Mamm. But I’m disappointed you aren’t coming. Are you sure you don’t feel up to it?”

  Hannah nodded. “I’m sure.” She tucked a slipping blanket corner around Mary’s back and closed the carriage door. As Luke made his way around the back, Hannah followed him. “What have I done?” she whispered.

  He turned to face her. “It was your fault we were out near the Knepps’ place.”

  “My fault?”

  “Oh, don’t act so innocent. I begged you to go with us to the singing so Mary would feel comfortable returning to our farm afterward. You knew she wouldn’t come with just me. I needed you to go with us. But you didn’t feel like it.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I … I remember you and I had some sharp words, but I … I don’t recall … My mind was so cluttered from—”

  “Yeah, you took a spill on the side of the road and cut your hands and knees. Somehow that stole your memory, your ability to work, and your loyalty to your family.” He glared at her. “Yet look at all that’s happened to Mary, and she’s bounced back.”

  “Luke, I’m … I’m sorry. I never meant—”

  He strode to the driver’s side and climbed inside.

  She watched the buggy pull away with the people she loved leaving her behind.

  A cold wind whipped through Hannah’s skirts and shawl, but the temperature in her heart seemed even colder. Her jaws ached as tears threatened to form. Disappointment worked its way through her. She’d really wanted to see the harness shop and Luke and Mary’s future home, not to mention the joy on Mary’s face as she took it all in for the first time.

  A calf in the barn bawled for its mother. Hannah trudged across the back field to the barn.

  My fault? How could he think that? Was it true? She remembered so little of those dark times following the attack.

  She pulled the barn door open just far enough to slip inside. The place was warm and smelled of sweet feed and calf starter. She took a few steps toward the calf pen, and another familiar scent filled her nostrils: fresh cow manure.

  The calf stuck its head through the split-rail pen, begging to be touched. Hannah patted the cowlick in the center of its forehead. The calf’s tongue looked like saltwater taffy being pulled and stretched as the calf lapped at her clothing. It butted its head against her arm as if she had milk for the needy thing. “Sorry, fella. You’re plain outta luck.”

  Hannah stepped back and folded her arms across her chest, tucking her shawl around her. Streams of sunlight caused dancing dust particles from the hay to look like shiny flecks of gold. She and Luke used to pretend the floating bits of dirt were tiny people and that if they could catch them and immerse them in water, they’d grow into life-sized children. They’d spent hours trying to create people from suspended pieces of hay dust.

  Now Luke hated her. And she couldn’t fully remember what he was talking about. She didn’t doubt his account of what had happened. She’d never had much desire to attend the singings for appearance’ sake. She was sure that during those most confusing days of her life, she’d refused to go anywhere with anyone.

  Desperate for a place to hide and think, she climbed the ladder to the hayloft. She clambered over the mounds of loose hay and opened the hayloft door. Another blast of cold air stung her cheeks. Brown leaves swirled in the wind, falling from the trees like rain. She wrapped the shawl around her and tried to find solace in the beauty of the earth. Most of the trees had lost their leaves, and they stood with gray branches reaching out and upward. Brown fields lay resting for the season. Brilliant blue skies carried such a variety of clouds—thick mounting ones, wispy ones, thin-lined ones.

  She wondered if her Aunt Zabeth had once loved her father the way Hannah loved Luke. She bet Zabeth would understand how badly she hurt, how isolated her life had become. Hannah wondered what her aunt had done that caused her to be shunned. Whatever it was, she never repented, because the letter said she was still under the ban.

  A flock of twelve or more purple finches gathered under the sweet gum tree, enjoying the seeds that had fallen.

  She looked out at the land and drew a deep breath. God had done a magnificent job with creation. Warmth spread throughout her body, and in spite of the stabbing pains from Luke’s accusation, peace flooded her.

  I know the plans I have for you …

  She’d heard this verse during a church service, and it had struck her as powerful even then. But today, as she stood in a hayloft alone and unsure of her future, it meant hope. Hannah knelt and closed her eyes. “God, I know so little … I understand almost nothing.” Chills covered her body. “You are my God, whether I understand You or not. I choose You.”

  Thoughts from every corner of her life assailed her. She saw herself s
itting in various homes, barns, and workshops for preaching services, hearing strong messages against sin. A snapshot of her father kissing her fingers the time they got mashed in the buggy door made her smile even now. It had amazed her that day how a tiny kiss truly made the pain disappear. Visions of Paul laughing with her over the years and aching with her when she cried on his shoulder at the hospital filled her with fresh turmoil.

  Faster and faster, images flew through her mind—arguments with sisters, cooking in a hot kitchen, and respect for the Old Ways even though much about those ways stirred doubt within her. Then the puzzle pieces of her life took an ominous turn, and she could barely see a clear picture of anything in her mind’s eye. Luke and Mary’s buggy accident. Luke’s anger.

  The attack.

  That was the real reason she’d had nothing to say to God for two months.

  She shifted off of her knees and sat. Life didn’t make sense. Parts of it were so beautiful, so touching, that a moment of it brought her strength that could last for years and could only have come from God. But what about the other part, the part that was so wretched with ugliness it stole her desire to live?

  It didn’t make sense that God willed both. Maybe it never would make sense.

  Hannah struggled day in and day out with blind acceptance of everything that happened in life. If God put a person where he or she was supposed to stay, then how did the Pilgrims come to America? How did the Amish cross an ocean to get free of the Church of England?

  If authority couldn’t sometimes be ignored, there would be no Old Ways to cling to. So who got to decide when it was time to stand against authority and when it was time to submit?

  She sighed, not knowing the answers to any of that.

  The tugging question in her heart right now seemed to be if she trusted God to be her strength and guiding force, whether she understood things or not.