Sisters of the Quilt

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Well, he hadn’t taken rebellion that far. But the desire to map out his own set of beliefs and follow them had become a good-sized part of who he was. No wonder his church and parents were so displeased with him. He knew the aim of his people but constantly fought it. Sort of.

  When he talked them into letting him get a degree in social work, he knew he was pushing the limits—studying subjects that gave his people cause for concern. The word forbidden was usually left to the Amish. His people would say the subjects were to be avoided or approached with great caution, but he’d pursued his dream anyway. Then there was his going to Senators’ games—neither stepping away from his church nor yielding to their wishes. It was as if he wanted to remain Plain, but he wanted to mold it into something it wasn’t, wanted to do it his own way.

  Dorcas rubbed her wrist as if it hurt. “No one at the church thinks you’ll come back under the preachers’ and bishop’s authority. They figure you’ll leave.”

  He nodded. “I guess I’d think that too if I was watching my life from their perspective.” He looked about the fancy mall. “Do you think Hannah is living Plain?”

  She shrugged. “What I think is that you’ll be a good counselor, Paul, no matter where you land—Plain or English. But I just can’t believe you wouldn’t use your education to help your own people. There are places that offer counseling for the Plain community. With your foundation and education, you could cast a good net for catching and helping our people.”

  Paul shifted, removing his arm from the back of the bench. “I guess it’s time either to follow the church leadership and lay down the parts of my life that don’t fit or to decide I’m not Plain after all.”

  “I can’t imagine not being Plain. Not only because it’s who I am—who we are—but because leaving would cause a permanent rift with my family and community.”

  “Hannah was going to leave her family.”

  “Yeah, but clearly she finds leaving those who love her pretty easy.”

  Paul wanted to argue, but the evidence was stacked against him.

  David stood on one end of the wagon and Matthew on the other as they placed another long wooden table in the bed of the cart. With Luke and Mary getting married tomorrow, he and a lot of others were working all day to set up for it. The Yoder place was buzzing, with thirty couples working together to cook a celebration meal for tomorrow. He wasn’t part of the teams of couples who would provide the wedding meal. He couldn’t help with that part without Elle being around.

  The upside was that she was coming tomorrow. She couldn’t get away on a Tuesday morning, so she’d miss the actual ceremony, but she’d be here in time for the meal, songs, and games that would last until midnight. Matthew would carry Luke and Mary from the Bylers’ place, where the wedding ceremony would occur, to Mary’s home, where the meal and the rest of the festivities would take place. After Elle’s last visit, nearly four months ago, they could use an afternoon and evening of songs and games. It’d do them good. And all the fellowship and laughter would remind her of the best parts of being Amish.

  Then maybe her letter writing would pick back up. She still wrote, but just short notes and not very often.

  David brushed his hands together. “Have you heard that Sarah’s been found wandering about at night by different folks in the community? I don’t mean being with anybody, just by herself, out roaming around. Jacob’s done washed his hands of her, says she’s weird.”

  Matthew shifted the benches, trying to secure them. “I’ve heard. Don’t make nothing of it. She’s having a hard time, and the quiet evening air clears her mind. And if you ask me, Jacob’s washed his hands of her because he’s got eyes for Lizzy Miller.”

  “Yeah, well I heard that her Mamm’s trying to cover for her, not lettin’ anybody know just how bad she is, and trying to keep her close, so she don’t get in any real trouble.” David jumped down from the wagon. “Wanna place a bet what month Mary gives birth? I suspect she’ll have a baby within a month of their anniversary.”

  Matthew stepped off the back end of the wagon. “We’ll need more chairs. So go find some and a sense of respectability while you’re at it.” Betting on how long it’d take Luke to father a child. Good grief. Thinking it was one thing, but speaking it out loud? Where did his brother come up with such brazenness?

  But David stayed put, watching the house. Matthew studied their home to see if his brother had his eye on something specific. They both had grown up in the farmhouse, as had their father and their grandfather before them.

  Seeing nothing in particular, Matthew tightened the rope across the benches. “Is there somethin’ on your mind, aside from foolishness?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well?”

  David grabbed a piece of old straw from a corner of the wagon. “You won’t get mad?”

  “Depends. What’d you do?”

  David stuck one end of the straw in his mouth. “Nothing, not yet.”

  Matthew moved to the last rope and checked it. “Meaning?”

  “I haven’t done nothing, but I got things stuck in my mind, and they won’t leave me alone.”

  “You and everybody else. So what’s weighing on you?”

  “Didn’t you think Hannah would’ve come home crying long before now?”

  Matthew shrugged. He figured Hannah was finished crying and had no desire to ever return. She’d been treated poorly and given no options. It was a huge part of the reason Matthew stayed so patient with Elle. Demands were not the answer. Some freedom to make choices was.

  David gestured toward the paved road. “Maybe it’s not as hard to live draus in da Welt as we think.”

  Wondering if his brother had some romantic idea of life “out in the world,” Matthew sat on the back end of the wagon. “You do plenty of living in the world right here. Besides, there’s nothing out there worth chasing.”

  “Then why’s Elle living there and not here? Something more than her dad is drawing her. And if Hannah can make it on her own, maybe it’s worth a try.”

  “You’re only thinking about this from a money standpoint. How about what you believe?”

  “I believe there’s other ways to live besides this. I don’t want to give up riding a four-wheeler and playing my guitar in order to join the church.”

  Matthew wondered who’d helped David purchase these mysterious items and where they kept them hidden. “Those are temporal things. They aren’t significant.”

  “Well, they must be pretty important, or they wouldn’t cause such a stink.”

  Matthew didn’t care to admit that a misshapen shirt collar could cause trouble under the right circumstances. “Our lines are drawn to keep us from going deeper and deeper into the ways of the world. The desire for more never stops if you don’t stand against it.”

  David took off his hat and gestured toward the skies. “Doesn’t it drive you crazy to think about living like this forever? No music, television, or cars is bad enough, but I’m sick of being too hot in the summer to sleep and busy year round hauling pews from one place to another. I’m tired of dressing in a way that makes me stick out whenever I go into town. Most days I feel like I’m gonna bust.”

  “It gets easier. You’ll find someone special, and living by the faith will take on new meaning.”

  “That’s what Kathryn said. She even showed me Bible verses about some stuff, but how can ways as old as ours take on new anything? I want to make my own decisions, and if I thought I could make it out there, I’d be gone already.” David turned to face him. “Do you think Elle might help me get a job and find a place?”

  Matthew’s head ached, and he was sorry to find himself in the middle of this conversation. “If Mamm and Daed hear you talking like that, it’ll make them despise Elle for sure. She’s coming back to be baptized into the faith. She’s not interested in helping anyone, including my family members, separate from the Old Ways.”

  Matthew went to the barn to fetch the horse, hoping David didn’t end
up breaking Mamm’s heart over this.

  As Hannah pulled out of Zabeth’s driveway, she pushed the knob to the radio and turned the volume up. The stick shift was fun to drive and made her feel free and modern. The car was used and six years old, but it had everything: speed, locks, heat, air, a digital clock, music, and a plug so she could recharge her cell phone if she forgot to do it at home. Amazingly, she could travel home at midnight from the clinic and feel completely safe—although Zabeth said she was a bit compulsive about repeatedly hitting the lock button.

  Thirty minutes ago she’d come home from North Lincoln on her way to the clinic to make sure Zabeth ate a few bites of the stew Hannah had put in the Crock-Pot before daylight. Zabeth was well enough to feed and care for herself, but she often skipped meals if Hannah didn’t intervene. Faye tried to come by and stay with Zabeth a few hours on Hannah’s busiest day, Tuesdays, but as often as not she didn’t make it. When Faye couldn’t check on her during the middle of the day, Hannah had to push the speed limit to be on time for the quilting group. After that she had her meeting at the rape crisis cen—

  “Oh, peaches and bunnies.” Hannah held the steering wheel with one hand and grabbed her purse with the other. Rustling through it, she located her cell phone. While glancing from road to phone, she scrolled to the clinic’s number, punched the button, and waited. Removing the phone from her ear, she shifted gears. Maybe she needed one of those beetle earpieces like Faye’s. She put the phone to her ear, waiting for someone to pick up or the answering machine to get it.

  The machine picked up. When it beeped, she began. “Hey, guys, Hannah here. This message is for Dr. Lehman. I was working on Lydia Ebersole’s file when you asked for it. I noticed you hadn’t returned it last night, so if you could please put it on my desk, I’ll finish up the reports before tomorrow. Thanks.” She started to close the phone. “Oh, and Emily Fisher’s file needs to be on my desk too. Also, remember that it’s an afternoon of quilting, so although you’ll see my car on the premises, don’t forget I’m not available, and my phone will be turned off. Thanks. See you later.”

  By the time she pulled her car into the driveway of the clinic, there were four sets of horses and buggies already lined up in front of the quilting shop. Since it was a Tuesday during the Amish wedding season, she hadn’t been sure anyone would be here this afternoon. But so far, at least three Amish women had made it for each quilting. Some Tuesdays she had up to twenty women and fourteen buggies.

  She pushed the button to turn off her radio as she went past the clinic and up to the quilting house—seemed the respectful thing to do. The quilting house was an outbuilding to the clinic. It’d probably been a carriage barn in its day, which seemed befitting to Hannah. She and the Amish and Mennonite women met in this building rather than in a room inside the clinic. Each week when their sewing hours were over, they could leave everything set up. More important than that, the carriage house was very private. Anyone could say anything, and laughter could peal out as loudly as they wished and not be overheard by lurking husbands waiting on their wives to deliver. The room held secrets and tears and vibrated with laughter every session. It was the one place where Hannah’s striving to fit into the Englischers’ world stopped.

  She got out of her car to see Nancy, one of the nurse midwives, motioning for her. So much for seeing the clinic workers later. Hannah shut the car door and walked toward the clinic. Taking care of Zabeth, working for Dr. Lehman, and studying for next month’s entrance exam into nursing school all pulled on her constantly. But whatever was going on in her life, this November sparkled like diamonds compared to last November. With the exception of Zabeth’s health, everything happening to her was good and freeing.

  “I’m not here, Nancy. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I know, but this will only take a minute. There’s a woman from the courthouse on the phone, and she says she needs to speak with you, something about the Coblentz twins’ birth certificates.”

  “She couldn’t just leave a message?”

  Nancy shrugged. “She balked, and I gave in when I saw your car pulling up the driveway. She’s on line four.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Hannah walked into the clinic and down the hallway.

  Of course this new life had a ton of responsibilities and a controlled panic to it that she’d not yet grown accustomed to. Computers tended to crash at the worst possible moment. Babies were born while the office phones rang and e-mails piled into the in-box. There were always stacks of paperwork to fill out at the end of each day. And even more piles of textbooks, waiting for her to make time to open them throughout the day. Oddly, she wasn’t very worried about the entrance exam. Confidence said she’d pass it; she’d passed everything so far.

  Punching the fourth red button, she tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear, noticing the stack of written messages on her desk. “Hannah Lawson speaking.”

  After answering the clerk’s question about the birth certificates, Hannah disconnected the call and read through the list of voice-mail phone numbers on her computer. She clicked on the number from Martin’s office.

  Phone girl, I bet you haven’t checked your messages on your cell phone, and I wanted to be sure you knew what was up. It’s a crazy week at work, so I can’t be there for our tutoring session until late on Friday. If you need help before then, call me.

  He was right; she hadn’t checked her messages today and probably wouldn’t until late tonight. She headed out the back door to the quilting shop. Since the building had no phones or electricity and was completely unadorned, it was a comfortable place for the Plain women to meet.

  Leaving all her Englischer stuff in her car and office, Hannah went straight toward her haven, where, for just a few hours each week, juggling to keep up with the fancy life was not a part of her world. The soft light of the sun filtering through the windows, the muted voices of the women, and the lack of hurry put Tuesday afternoons high on her list of enjoyable times.

  She walked inside and took her place at the table.

  Sadie King, a soon-to-be-grandmother, slid the question box along with a quilt patch toward Hannah. “Glad you could make it.”

  The touch of sarcasm struck a chord with the other women, and they giggled softly.

  “Denke,” Hannah replied before she opened the box, pulled out the first note, and read it:

  Mary and Joseph never had sex while Mary was pregnant. Does that mean it’s wrong while pregnant? And if not, is it safe for the baby?

  Wondering if the woman who’d written the question was in the room or if the question had been put into the box earlier in the week by someone who wasn’t here today, Hannah set the paper to the side and grabbed a needle and thread.

  That was one of the nice things about being here: they didn’t expect an immediate answer, just an accurate one. Although she was more comfortable answering the medical question than the moral ones, the mixture of the two was the norm, and she was glad the women trusted her enough to ask. Whether they agreed with her answers or not, she didn’t know.

  She drew a deep breath, enjoying the aroma of the fairly new rough-hewn planking some of the husbands had installed over the dirt floor. The potbellied stove gave off the perfect amount of heat, making the place feel more like a kitchen than a slightly remodeled outbuilding. After the men installed the floor and wood stove, the women helped her clean the place from top to bottom and add some shelving. It was a perfect place to counsel young brides-to-be, women entering menopause, and those who needed medical advice but didn’t want to ask Dr. Lehman. And odd as it seemed, it was here that Hannah fit in best.

  “Mary was to conceive and give birth as a virgin, so …”

  The midnight November air was nippy as Matthew walked from the Yoders’ barn toward the road. Voices and laughter echoed from the barn as the games continued. The antics of his friends were amusing, but Elle had never shown up. He knew Elle was safe somewhere inside her Englischer life. She wasn’t here because something came
up or she forgot or …

  He had a catalog of emotions banked. Fear was the first one—fear of what was happening to them. He did not want to lose her. Sure they had things to work through. Every couple did.

  The barn doors swung open wide as friends of Luke and Mary cheered. They strolled out, Luke laughing and Mary blushing visibly even in the dark night. Mary’s hand was clasped in Luke’s as they headed for Mammi Annie’s house. It would be their honeymoon place. That way they’d be right here when it came time to finish cleaning everything tomorrow. They were going to live with Mammi Annie and keep renting the apartment to the Millers. It made the most sense. Mammi Annie’s was close enough for Luke to walk to work and go home for lunch, much like he’d been doing for the past nine months.

  “Matthew?” Luke called.

  Matthew jogged over to him. “Hey.”

  “What are you doing wandering around out here?”

  Matthew ignored the question and chose to tease. “I’ll expect to see you bright and early tomorrow for work, right?”

  Luke pushed against his shoulder. “You can expect it all you want. I ain’t coming in until Friday.”

  Matthew laughed. “Since you’ll not be shaving that huge, ugly face of yours anymore after tonight, you should have plenty of extra time for work. Keep him straight, Mary. Don’t let him get all lazy on us now that he’s king of something besides a shop attic with a bed.”

  Luke put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Mary has enough integrity to keep us both straight.”

  Mary’s smile disappeared.

  Luke squeezed her shoulders. “Tell him, Mary.”

  A look of discomfort crossed her face before she smiled at him. Matthew figured she was having a bit of prehoneymoon jitters.

  “Ya,” she whispered.

  “Well, good night.” Luke waved and directed Mary toward Mammi Annie’s place. “You are going to keep watch on the place and make sure no one pulls any pranks, ya?”