Sisters of the Quilt

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “Debit.” The man swiped his card and punched some numbers. “Since I check out with this place as a viable guardian and you don’t, maybe you should tell me who you are.”

  His arrogance left her speechless.

  He slid his ID and debit card back into his billfold.

  “But you can’t just take her children without her knowing—”

  The woman pointed to a door. “I’ll go get the kids.”

  He glanced at his watch. “ASAP, please.”

  “Faye told me no one else was available to pick up—”

  “I heard you the first time.” He whispered the words, but his tone clearly indicated that he doubted her intelligence. He studied her. “You look younger than most of Faye’s friends, so I’ll give you a piece of advice. Find a new group of people to hang out with before she and her entourage drag you down too.” With his sunglasses in hand, he gestured from her shoulders down. “And what’s with this outfit? Trying to pretend you’re well behaved so they’ll hand over the kids to you? Or was it retro night at the local bar?”

  Suddenly feeling outdated as well as stupid, Hannah fought to keep her composure. “You can’t just take her children without telling me who you are.”

  The man scoffed. “If you were half as intelligent as you are cute, you’d figure out pretty quickly that I wouldn’t know the kids were here unless she’d sent me. She sent you for backup.” He shooed her away from the counter. “When you talk to her, tell her this is the last time she pulls something like this. I’ll call the authorities myself next time.”

  He leaned toward her. An aroma of musky aftershave offended her senses. “Got it?”

  Unable to think of one thing to say, Hannah walked out. He had come to GymberJump, obviously knowing the children were here. He had the ID, a signature on file, and had paid the ridiculous late fee. There was nothing else she could do but leave.

  As one hour drifted into two, Martin’s irritation with Faye calmed, and he chided himself for his rude behavior toward the young woman at GymberJump. He was sure she was the same girl he’d had a run-in with once before because of Faye, only it’d been dark the first time. At times his sister’s behavior seemed to turn him into someone else entirely. And that girl had been in his path when his tolerance for Faye was at an all-time low. Every time Faye and Richard had problems, she took to drinking or drugs. Or maybe every time she took to using, she and Richard had problems. He didn’t know. Didn’t really even care. But he hated having the responsibility of his niece and nephew dumped on him, and he hated telling them half truths as he tucked them into bed after feeding them breakfast. GymberJump allowed the kids to play on the trampolines until well after midnight. Kevin and Lissa would probably sleep most of the day.

  Taking care of Faye’s rug rats when she got all strung out had been Zabeth’s job before she got sick. If his sister thought he’d start pulling Zabeth’s shifts with the children, she was stupider than he’d given her credit for.

  He checked his watch. Nina, the daughter of some friends, would be here in a minute so Kevin and Lissa could sleep while he pulled music duty at church. He was running later than he ever had. Tempted to call Pete and just bail on trying to get there before the service started, Martin wondered if Zabeth might make it to church today. A few years ago she was the one who’d drawn him back into going, but her attendance hadn’t been too regular of late. At least she’d had her Amish niece helping for the last couple of months.

  He stopped cold. Surely Faye wouldn’t pull Zabeth’s niece, the visiting teen, into …

  He spat a curse. Of course she would.

  “Somebody tell me I didn’t just insult Zabeth’s niece.” The room echoed his voice, but there was no one there to answer him.

  He had been so sure she was the girl he’d argued with on Faye’s front lawn one night a few months back, the one he suspected of getting his sister involved with drugs. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Pete to say he wouldn’t make it to church. As Nina entered the house, Martin left.

  Less than twenty minutes later he was driving his Mazda RX-8 up Zabeth’s long dirt driveway. He hated taking his car up this rutted mess Zabeth called a lane.

  Since she had someone staying with her, he knocked on the screen door rather than just going in.

  Zabeth came into view, walking toward him with a cane. “Hi, Martin.” She gestured for him to come in. He hadn’t seen her since her niece had landed here, because Zabeth had asked him for six to eight weeks of uninterrupted time.

  He hugged her carefully. “How are you doing, Zebby?”

  “Not bad. It’s good to see you, Martin. What brings you out here?”

  “Well, I figure if you can’t come to church to see me …” He studied her face. She looked happier and more peaceful than ever—and more frail.

  “Is that why you’re here?” Her voice held a touch of humor, reminding him just how well she knew him.

  “Well, no, but it sounded good.” He forced a laugh. Sometimes facing Zabeth hurt. She reminded him of everything his family had once been, before the separation, his mother’s death, and his sister’s guilt.

  She gave him a tender smile, like a mom waiting for the real truth. “What’s on your mind?”

  He hesitated. He couldn’t just ask for a description of her niece or inquire where she had been around seven o’clock that morning. If he did, she’d want to know why. He sighed. This was Zebby. She deserved better than the facade he presented to everyone else. He maintained eye contact. “I had a run-in with someone this morning.”

  She chuckled. “Ah, that explains everything.”

  He wished he could join her in the laughter. He didn’t want her to know Faye was strung out somewhere, probably too incapacitated to drive, and he had her children. That seemed like too much for her since her diagnosis, although she’d done all she could in the past to help Faye through her bouts. He glanced to the doorway of what had been the extra bedroom. “Is your niece around?”

  Zabeth studied him for a moment before shuffling into the kitchen. Martin followed her.

  In spite of how little they had seen each other since her niece’s arrival, he and Zabeth usually spent time together. Because he had to be at church early for music practice, he paid a driver to bring her to church, and after services he’d take her out to eat, and they’d spend part of Sunday afternoon together. On Friday nights, Zabeth would come to his house, where a gathering of musicians would hang out. But she was less reliable since becoming ill.

  She pulled a Mason jar down from a cabinet. “Funny you should ask. A couple of hours ago, not long after she arrived home, she asked me what Richard looked like. That didn’t seem to satisfy her, so she asked what you looked like.” She flicked the water on and held the jar under it. “Acted like she was just curious, but I didn’t buy it. She worked hard around here all day yesterday and then worked all last night at a birthing clinic, yet she’s still awake—working the dickens out of that garden on a Sunday.” Zabeth plunked some ice into the glass and handed it to him. “Was my niece nearby when you had your run-in with someone?”

  He took a sip of water, wishing he had a different answer to her question. “I think the run-in may have been with your niece.”

  She folded her arms across her waist and stared at him. “I’m gonna say this once. You’ll get along with Hannah at all times. Do you hear me?”

  “You’re not even going to ask how we met or what caused the blowup?”

  “Martin, she’s all I’ll ever have in the way of a blood relative, and she’s the most genuine person you’ll ever meet. That makes whatever happened your responsibility to fix. And I mean that.”

  “Thanks, Zebby.” He rubbed his hand across his chin. The girl he had the run-in with wasn’t all that remarkable, but obviously bias overruled reality. “Where is she?”

  She nodded toward the back door. “I saw her move to the bench a few minutes ago. You remember where that is, right?” She cocked an eyebro
w at him, humor dancing in her eyes.

  They shared a smile, easing the tension. “Yeah. Most of the blisters from building it turned to scars.”

  She laughed, and he headed for the back door.

  “Martin.”

  He stopped and turned to face her.

  “I appreciate that you dropped everything and came here to make this right.” She leaned into her cane and drew a ragged breath. “Your sister might benefit from being on the receiving end of that kind of niceness.”

  Martin shifted the glass of water he held, trying to think of what to say. “Faye only uses anyone who tries to help her.” He searched for something honest yet hopeful. “But I’ll try to think of a way that might be possible.”

  Looking pleased with his response, she nodded.

  As Martin went out the back door and across the lawn, he thought about Zabeth’s words. He knew she desperately needed to see the Palmer family come together again. He just couldn’t imagine how that would happen.

  Hannah pulled her feet onto the bench and wrapped her arms around her legs. Stifling the rush of negative emotions, she wondered if all Englischer men were so blatantly disrespectful to females. This morning had been hard, although she didn’t fully understand why. There’d been something humiliating about staring that man in the face and realizing how much he knew and understood compared to what she knew. Powerless. That’s how she’d felt. Only it had nothing to do with him having authority over her.

  She missed Paul more than ever right now. Before their relationship fell apart, he never once made her feel anything but appreciated, smart, and fun to be with. Was this new world filled with people like that man at GymberJump—conceited and educated, with the ability to shoot invisible poison darts at will?

  But he knew the ins and outs of life, like Dr. Lehman and those midwives she worked with.

  Whatever else she’d realized this morning, she was now determined to check into North Lincoln’s GED program. No more procrastination. The next time she stared some arrogant person in the eyes, she’d be as educated as she could get. Her fears about going to school had shrunk under her new desire to—

  “Excuse me.”

  Hannah jumped before turning in the direction of the voice. Her eyes lingered on him, as if looking into his eyes might explain why the encounter with him had bothered her so much. Finding no answers, she turned away and resumed watching the fields.

  “Look, I’m sorry.”

  If he was waiting on her to talk to him, he’d have a long wait.

  He walked in front of her and pointed at the empty place on the bench beside her. “May I?”

  She didn’t respond.

  He took a seat. “I shouldn’t have talked to you the way I did. The call from Faye really made me angry. When I arrived, I thought you were someone else, someone Faye barhops with.” He rocked back as if he planned to be there awhile.

  A good ten minutes passed without a word being spoken. Surely he’d up and leave eventually.

  “Are you going to talk to me?” He looked out over the fields. “I never expected silence. Yelling, yes. Quietness? What’s a guy supposed to do with that?”

  Propping her chin on her knees, she gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. She wished he’d just go home.

  “It’s gorgeous here. I helped build this bench. If you knew my skills as a manual laborer, you’d either be impressed or jump off the seat.”

  She slid her feet off the bench and looked at him. Her mind was zipping with retorts—“If you were half as intelligent as you are good at gabbing …” — but she kept quiet.

  Looking away from him, she wondered how much longer he’d stay. The minutes droned on, but he didn’t rise to leave.

  The man clasped his hands together and propped his elbows on his legs. “You think you could teach other women this trick? I can think of a few who could use some lessons in silence.”

  His words made her want to tell him what she thought.

  “Just say it,” he growled in a whispery voice. “I can tell you’re tempted to speak. Whatever it is, just say it.”

  Sensing a little brashness well up, she nodded. “I can think of a certain man who could use that same lesson.”

  He laughed. “Wow! You looked all sweet and innocent, and then slam.” He continued chuckling and held out his hand. “I’m Martin.”

  She didn’t feel any friendlier than when he arrived, but she shook his hand. “Hannah. And you can’t just remove Kevin and Lissa so I can’t get to them. I told Faye I’d take care of them.”

  He released her hand. “Nice to meet you, Hannah …”

  “Law … Lawson.” She stumbled over her new last name, feeling foolish that it didn’t just roll off her tongue like it should.

  “I don’t think Hannah LaLawson is it. Try again.”

  Zabeth and Faye said it’d be their secret, that only they and Dr. Lehman would ever know the truth.

  He looked around as if spies might be lurking nearby, then whispered, “Phone girl?”

  She smiled, remembering how much she’d enjoyed the snippet of conversation that day, but now she was disappointed at the man behind the voice and humor. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Beetle thing. That’s me.”

  A hawk swooped down in the field in front of them and snatched something off the ground. But if he was the man she’d talked to that day at the hospital, then his tolerance of Faye’s children in his life was probably very limited.

  “You joked about taking her children to an orphanage.”

  He gave a nod. “Not very funny right now, I know, but at the time it seemed funny.”

  “You wouldn’t really—”

  “No, of course not. It was joke. If I was going to dump them somewhere, I’d have let you, a total stranger, pick them up.”

  “So where’s Faye?”

  He shrugged. “No way to know for sure, but I’d guess she went to where Richard’s been working lately, argued with him, got drunk or stoned, and then crashed somewhere. When she woke, she was either too out of it to drive or too far away to pick up the kids on time.” He sighed. “It happens.”

  Hannah brushed wisps of damp hair off her neck. “It’s my fault.”

  He chuckled. “What—This should be good. Just how is this your fault?”

  “She came by here yesterday, wanting to leave Kevin and Lissa, and I refused to let her.”

  “Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “Zabeth let you tell Faye no?”

  Hannah shook her head. “She was taking a nap, and I hurried out the front door when Faye pulled into the driveway. I knew I might get called in to work, so I put my foot down before she got out of the car.”

  “Good for you. Zabeth can’t seem to tell Faye no.” He placed his hands on the bench on each side of his legs. “I’m really sorry about this morning. I thought you were someone else, someone I’d seen for just a minute one time.”

  “Someone you didn’t like?”

  He nodded. “When it comes to Faye, things get pretty unfriendly before I realize what’s happening.”

  “Oh.”

  “But you know, I’ve not been in trouble with Zebby since I was fifteen and took something of hers that’d been packed away in a box.” He propped one leg on the other. His mannerisms spoke of relaxed confidence unlike anything she’d ever noticed in someone before.

  “What’d you take?”

  He cupped his hands, demonstrating. “Some white net-looking hat thing that’d I’d never seen her wear. It was great for catching minnows at the creek.”

  Hannah knew her eyes were bugging out as she tried to speak. “You used her prayer Kapp to catch live bait?”

  “Only once.”

  Hannah scoffed. “Yeah, I bet.”

  “So, you fish much, Hannah?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You used the phrase ‘to catch live bait,’ which means you know something about fishing.”

  Hearing Zabeth rattling dishes, she rose. “I�
�d better go help. She’s probably trying to fix us dinner.”

  “You know, phone girl, you’re not great at answering my questions.”

  Hannah gave an apologetic shrug as she entered the house with Martin right behind her. As she helped Zabeth get the meal on the table, she was aware of Martin’s presence in the room. She silently speculated about the Englischer tendency to be overly friendly when it suited them and rude when it didn’t. Were they all this fickle when it came to their beliefs as well?

  The mealtime was a bit stilted as the three of them tried to find subjects they could or were willing to talk about. She learned that Martin was twenty-six years old and lived just outside Winding Creek. He was a civil engineer for a company he owned, but he wasn’t a registered engineer yet.

  “So where does your father live?”

  “He and his wife live in Australia. We own some business ventures together, and he’s more than fair to me financially, but I don’t see him very often—not since I turned eighteen and went off to college.”

  Hannah knew firsthand the difficulties of trying to stay bonded to someone who was away at college. “I’m sorry he’s so far away. Faye’s husband is gone a lot too, isn’t he?”

  Zabeth’s movements paused. “Richard is gone a fair amount, but … he’s not exactly her husband.”

  “Oh, I …” Hannah felt like she had said the wrong thing. She was only trying to make conversation, not pry.

  Martin took a sip of water. “He’s a common-law husband.”

  Unwilling to ask anything else, Hannah examined his face, hoping for clues in his expression.

  He set the glass beside his plate. “That means they’ve been living together so long even the law’s not clear on whether they’re live-in lovers or husband and wife. But Kevin and Lissa are too young to realize their parents aren’t married.”

  A wave of nausea caused Hannah to set her fork down. Drugs, drinking, and a live-in boyfriend. “Why would Faye be willing to live like that?”

  A look passed between Zabeth and Martin, one that said they knew but didn’t talk about it.