Sisters of the Quilt

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Zabeth’s health.

  Paul’s love.

  A memory of Paul surfaced, and she shuddered at the ache it caused. Hoping to find more peaceful thoughts, she jabbed the hoe into the dirt again. The counselors at the rape center said thoughts and emotions that ran in opposite directions were normal. They also said it helped to work through a wide variety of thoughts and feelings until a person could settle on something, like reading through a menu of meal options.

  Though she found it hard to believe, she almost liked going to the center for the group-therapy sessions. Sometimes when they talked, a piece to her life’s puzzle seemed to float right into her hands. A lawyer Zabeth knew had taken care of getting a record of Hannah’s birth certificate and changing her last name.

  The pleasure of the warm soil against her bare feet and the rich scent of earth filtering through the air faded as her latest round of frustrations with Faye crossed her mind. It was becoming clear that her first impression of Faye had been too kind. The woman seemed to think Zabeth ought to baby-sit for her at any time. When Faye had brought her two children by a few hours ago, Hannah had to insist she not leave Kevin and Lissa for the night. Thankfully the whole scenario took place out front, before Faye even got her children out of the car and while Zabeth was down for a nap. It was ridiculous for Faye to assume the children could spend the night when Hannah was on call and might have to leave. There was no way to know whether Zabeth would have the strength to tend to Kevin and Lissa or not. It wasn’t something Faye should be willing to test—for Zabeth’s or her children’s sake.

  The screen door creaked, and Zabeth held up a glass of ice water. Hannah propped the hoe against a tree and went to her aunt.

  Zabeth smiled. “The garden has never looked better, even in my best days.”

  Hannah took the glass and helped her aunt down the steps. “Did you love gardening or just need the produce?”

  Zabeth dipped her head. “Love is for people and music, not for plots of dirt.” She whispered the words conspiratorially while chuckling.

  Hannah laughed. “Yeah, but without that dirt, it’d be hard to feel anything but hunger.”

  Zabeth wrapped her arm around Hannah’s waist. “You’re too practical to be just eighteen.” Her laugh joined the rustling of the leaves, and Hannah took in the moment.

  They slowly made their way to the bench. Here, with her beloved aunt, Hannah’s world was sewn together with the most delicate of threads. But it was a seam that could begin unraveling at any point. A second round of combination treatments for epithelial ovarian cancer had severely weakened Zabeth’s heart. How long it would be before the illness grew more powerful than Zabeth was anyone’s guess.

  But five weeks ago the doctor had given Hannah permission to take on as much as she felt up to. Since then she’d done her best to juggle her time with Dr. Lehman and with Zabeth. She hadn’t begun studying for her GED yet. Every spare minute not working with Dr. Lehman was spent at his clinic learning how to operate the computer, how to use the Internet, how to log patient info into the computer, and how to answer patients’ health questions.

  A peaceful silence settled between them as they watched the last rays of sunlight make shadows that turned and flipped in the breeze that shifted the leaves of the huge oaks. Darkness took over, and the birds slowly grew silent while the crickets and frogs picked up the chorus.

  Zabeth drew a deep breath. “Did you get that letter to your parents written and sent off like I asked?”

  Hannah gave a slight shrug. “I wrote it. It’s basic and not worth much, but I gave it to Faye, who gave it to Richard to mail while he’s in Columbus this week.”

  “That’s my girl.” Zabeth patted Hannah’s leg. “Now, tell me how things went at the clinic last week.”

  “I’ve already told you. And each time I repeat it, I feel like I’m bragging.”

  “But I’m so proud of you, Hannah-girl. And so happy you’ve come to live with me.” Zabeth nudged her shoulder into Hannah’s. “You’re proving how smart you already are without even taking any formal classes. Tell me again.”

  If her aunt knew she was procrastinating on getting her GED, she wouldn’t be nearly as proud. The idea of schooling was intimidating. A one-room Amish school filled with family and friends was one thing. But attending North Lincoln Educational Center for her GED and later going on a college campus—well, she just dreaded it.

  Hannah nodded and talked about how well her time at the Amish clinic was going. Dr. Lehman had set her up in a quiet office, and each patient had to meet with her privately before seeing him. Hannah asked a few basic questions and then shared what she’d been taught in a manner fitting the Amish lifestyle. Sometimes a bit of Pennsylvania Dutch slipped into the conversation. Once in a while someone would ask about her background, and although anxiety tried to steal her courage every time, she briefly explained she’d grown up in an Old Order Amish home. Without fail, the women told her they’d pray for her to return to her People and her parents, as she should, but they always assured her they’d not tell anyone but God about the ex-Amish girl who worked at the clinic.

  Hannah paused, taking a sip of her water. “The calls to come in and see me have increased so much that we’re trying to think of ways that groups of women could come at the same time.”

  “I’ve got an idea.” Zabeth pulled several patches of fabric from her pocket. “Quilts. One afternoon a week Amish women can gather in a closed room with you at the clinic and ask and talk while working on a quilt. Their husbands won’t think a thing about them doing community service work, and once they are there, the conversation can have a specific health topic or just roam onto whatever’s on their minds.” She bobbed her head up and down. “That way the shyer women who aren’t comfortable seeing you one-on-one to ask questions will come to a gathering and just listen while they’re sewing. You could even have a box for them to drop in questions, and you could answer those during the gathering without anyone knowing who asked it.”

  “Zabeth,” Hannah gasped, “that’s a wonderful idea. Dr. Lehman will love it.” She brushed an ant off her foot. “You know, it’s so odd. The thing I feared most about this job, that Old Order Amish women would turn my name over to their bishops and eventually make a trail for Daed to find me, isn’t something to fear at all. They seem to accept my choice—even if they’re praying for me to choose otherwise.”

  Zabeth reclined against the bench’s wooden back. “I think you’ve underestimated how strong and loyal the Plain folk are. You were ostracized because of a misunderstanding and a set of circumstances no one knew how to deal with. But the People have tons of inner character, even your father in all his stubbornness.”

  Hannah gave a nod, unsure what to think. She took another sip of water. “I love what I do at the clinic, especially answering questions the soon-to-be-married or young married girls have about women’s health, the marriage bed, and having babies.”

  “Are you still being asked questions you can’t answer without talking to Dr. Lehman?”

  “All the time.” Hannah’s body flushed hot with embarrassment even now. Talking to Dr. Lehman about intimate subjects wasn’t comfortable. “It seems there’s no end to good questions. Why, even Dr. Lehman doesn’t always know the answers. Sometimes he needs time to research before he can respond.”

  She breathed in the evening air and tried to settle her emotions. “Dr. Lehman has received permission from the hospital management for me to shadow him when he goes to the newborn nursery and the neonatal intensive care unit.”

  “I’ve heard tell that some of those babies don’t weigh any more than a pound.”

  Hannah nodded. “Because of the hospital’s policy, I can’t handle the babies, but I can observe and learn. My first time to do that is next week—”

  The phone in the side pocket of Hannah’s dress rang out, jolting both women. Their laughter echoed off the hills as Hannah answered her phone.

  “Hannah, Jeff here.”


  “Hi, Dr. Lehman.”

  “I know it’s nearly bedtime, but we have three women expected to give birth tonight, and I could use an extra set of hands. And you could use the experience. Do you think it’s too late for Faye to give you a lift to the clinic? I’ll pay her extra this time, and I’ll give you a ride home sometime tomorrow.”

  “Faye can’t, but Gideon probably can since I warned him you might need me.”

  “The term is on call, Hannah. You’re on call this weekend.”

  “Hang on.” She looked questioningly at Zabeth. She might be on call, but leaving Zabeth didn’t always sit well.

  Zabeth smiled. “You go, Hannah-girl. Grab every chance you get to learn.”

  She nodded. “Dr. Lehman, I’ll try Gideon. But if he can’t bring me, I’ll hitch up Ol’ Gert.”

  “No. I don’t want you riding by horse and buggy in the dark. Besides, by the time you get here, all three babies could be born—and celebrating their first birthday.” He chuckled at his joke.

  Hannah stood. “I’ll be there within the hour, even if I have to find another driver.”

  The freshly cleaned newborn in Hannah’s arms seemed to look straight at her, asking where he was and who it was that held him. Wordlessly, she diapered him, wrapped him tightly in a soft blanket, and put a little knit hat on his head. She’d expected dealing with babies to cause her grief since she’d buried her own three months ago and would never have another one, and in many ways it did. But even then her feelings stayed on an even keel better than she’d expected, and she felt good about responding professionally.

  The birthing center was once a small, older home, and the residence made a peaceful place to learn about using computers and the basics of midwifery.

  Nancy, one of Dr. Lehman’s resident midwives, came up beside her. “I’ve got the blue room. Jeff has the green. Casey just arrived. She’s assigned as my RN for the night. As soon as you’re done in here, Dr. Lehman needs assistance.”

  Hannah nodded as she nestled the newborn in his mother’s arms.

  “Thank you.” The mom looked straight into Hannah’s eyes, and she felt it in her soul. She stared into Hannah’s eyes as if she’d had something remarkable to do with the new life that had, with great effort, moved from the woman’s womb to her arms. Dr. Lehman and Nancy had done the remarkable stuff, although just being in the room made Hannah feel like she was part of something as important as the dawning of time. Oddly, seeing how much joy labor and delivery could bring to a family brought no sense of joy to Hannah, only awe at the observable science of life.

  “He’s a fine, healthy boy—”

  “Hannah,” Dr. Lehman gently called from down the hall. “Now, if you can.”

  “Excuse me.” She scurried to the green room, peeling off her latex gloves. She tossed them into the trash and grabbed another pair.

  “The cord is being a bit of a problem,” Dr. Lehman instructed. “Stand on the X, as I showed you last week, and just follow my directions.”

  A tremor shot through her, and she couldn’t budge. “Can’t Casey …”

  “Hannah,” Dr. Lehman’s calm voice was a front for the frustration he was trying to hide. “Casey’s assisting Nancy right now. Everything will be fine. I just need some help.”

  She moved forward.

  Time passed in odd increments of panic and delight as each person on duty worked most of the night to deliver the three healthy babies. The sun was peeping over the horizon as Hannah finished bathing the newest arrival.

  She laid the babe on the changing table and was wrapping a prewarmed blanket around the little girl when her phone rang.

  Hannah turned to Casey. “Can you take over for me?”

  “Sure.”

  Hannah removed her gloves while stepping out of the room. She tossed her gloves into a trash can and pulled the phone from her pocket. “Hannah Lawson speak—”

  “Hannah, it’s Faye.” The slurred words interrupted her. “Listen carefully because time is running out. I took the kids by GymberJump yesterday. It’s an all-night stay ’n’ play, but they close at six. Someone has to pick them up by seven, or they’ll call social services. Can you do it?”

  “Faye, what’s going on?”

  Faye broke into sobs. “Can you do it? I called Martin.” She sniffed. “He’s not willing to get them.”

  “Why?”

  “Please, Hannah. You can’t let social services take my children.”

  “Do you have a phone number for this place?” Hannah jotted down the number as a male voice barked that Faye’s time was up. “I’ll get there somehow. Where are you?” The line made an odd noise. “Faye?” When there was no answer, Hannah closed her phone.

  Without a clue what was going on, Hannah tucked the piece of paper into her skirt pocket and went to find Dr. Lehman.

  Inside his office, Dr. Lehman rested in his chair. “Yes, Hannah. He spoke without opening his eyes.

  “How did you—”

  He opened his eyes and sat up straight. “When you walk, only an occasional floorboard creaks. When it’s one of the midwives or nurses, their uniforms make a scrubbing sound.” He rubbed his face. “Your dresses continually become more modern though.” He pointed to her yellow dress with small flowers and tiny white buttons running down the front. “Maybe one day you’ll be comfortable wearing scrubs.”

  She doubted that. A modest dress was one thing, but pants? “I need to get to a place called GymberJump by seven. Do you know where it is?”

  “Never heard of it. Is it in Alliance?”

  “I don’t know, but I have a phone number.”

  He let out a long sigh. “We need to add driving to your list of ‘must learn.’ ” He shifted the mouse to his computer. “I’ll get directions to this place and take you, but you owe me.”

  “Owe you?” Hannah laughed. “You took me on when you didn’t need me, and you have your trained staff constantly teaching me stuff. I can’t possibly owe you more than I already do.”

  “I think you owe me another apple pie.” He grabbed a pen and jotted down some information from the computer screen.

  “You didn’t even ask why I need to go there.”

  “I figure if you need me to know, you’ll tell me.” Clutching the paper in one hand and his keys in the other, he glanced at the clock. “We have forty minutes to get to a place that’s supposed to take fifty. We’d better move.”

  Hannah glanced at the directions and then at her watch. “We’ve only got six minutes.”

  Dr. Lehman squinted against the morning sun. “I think it’s just up here on our left. Keep an eye out for the sign.” He yawned. “When we get there, I’ve got to doze for a few minutes.”

  Hannah searched each sign, desperately hoping they’d make it in time.

  She spotted one with the right words and pointed to the driveway. “That’s it. We found it.”

  He slowed his vehicle and made a left turn. Pulling to the side lot under a huge oak tree, he pressed a button to lower a window.

  Hannah opened the car door before he came to a complete stop. “I don’t know how long this might take.”

  Dr. Lehman drew a sleepy breath and tilted his seat back. “The longer, the better for me.”

  She got out and closed the door. Trying to gather her confidence, she entered the brick building through a set of glass doors. Anytime she was away from Zabeth’s cabin, the strangeness of her new life made her feel awkward and fainthearted. But she did her best to ignore the emotions while she went on about her business.

  A thirty-something, brown-haired woman at the counter looked up. Black makeup circled the edges of her eyes. “You here for the Palmer kids?” Her irritation rang out loud and clear.

  “Yes.”

  She got out of her office chair. “This is going to cost extra, five dollars for every minute. The policy clearly states that any child left here for night care is to be picked up by six. It’s one minute before seven. I was just about to call social
services.”

  “Five dollars a minute? But Faye didn’t—”

  “I’ll need your ID and a fax from one of the parents stating you have permission to take the children. The signature on the fax will have to match the one we have on file.”

  Hannah placed her ID on the counter, wondering how Faye would send permission through a fax machine. “Where are Kevin and Lissa?”

  “They’re in their sleeping bags, snoozing in one of the birthday party rooms.” The woman lifted Hannah’s ID off the counter and frowned. “This doesn’t have a photo on it. I’ve got to see a photo ID.”

  “I don’t have one. Not yet anyway.”

  The woman shoved the ID back across the counter. “Is the mother sending a signed fax, giving permission for me to release the kids to you?”

  “I don’t think so. Does she know she needs to?”

  The woman shrugged. “She’s supposed to know that if the person picking up the children is not on file, she has to send written permission via a fax.”

  The glass door swung open, and a dark-haired man stepped inside. The scowl on his face deepened as he pulled his sunglasses off. He stepped forward and slapped his driver’s license and a credit card on the counter. “I’m here to get Kevin and Lissa Palmer.”

  Hannah spoke to the woman. “But Faye sent me.”

  He turned, as if seeing her for the first time. His green eyes skimmed over her before he turned back to the woman in charge. “My signature’s on file. If you could speed this up, I’ll add a tip to the late fee.”

  “Sure. She didn’t qualify anyway.” The woman took his driver’s license to the file cabinet. Hannah swallowed, wondering if this was Richard or Faye’s brother. “Um, excuse me, but I just inconvenienced my boss to get me here because Faye said no one else was coming.”

  The man leveled a look at her. “Of course I was coming. Faye knew that.” He spat the words at her like she was stupid.

  Heat ran through her, as did a desire to spit back at him. “Who are you?”

  The woman placed his license on the counter. “Everything checks out. You’re cleared to go.” She pointed to the credit-card machine. “Credit or debit?”