Sisters of the Quilt

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “A few days ago, while filling out forms at the clinic, I signed my name wrong.”

  Martin’s brows knit. “Huh? I can’t say I’ve ever had that problem.”

  Hannah pulled her Amish cloak tighter. It was all she had in the way of a winter coat. “That’s because you’ve always had the same name.”

  “And you haven’t?”

  She shook her head.

  Martin motioned to the bench, and they began walking toward it. “Why did you change your name?”

  She took a seat. “I thought I was doing it so my family couldn’t find me, so my community couldn’t write to me and … say things I didn’t want to hear.”

  Martin sat beside her. “What was the real reason?”

  “Paul Waddell,” she whispered.

  “Oh. I didn’t realize you … So who’s Paul?”

  She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. “He was my fiancé, and I loved him so much that I was willing to separate myself from my family.”

  “Because?”

  “He wasn’t Old Order Amish. By the time things ended between us, I’d made enemies of my whole community, and when I landed here, I knew if I kept my last name, I’d keep hoping Paul would come looking for me.” She sighed.

  Martin laid his arm along the back of the bench. “Really, you changed your last name so you could begin a new life. Is that it?”

  She nodded. “I tried to call him today … for reasons that make no sense.”

  “And it didn’t go well.”

  “Times a hundred.” She watched a flock of starlings circle. “There’s more to the story, a lot more, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders. “Whenever you do, call me. See, I’m no expert at love, but I bet, with a little time and a few dates here and there, in a few years you’ll forget what’s-his-name.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Absolutely. The saying is that there are lots offish in the sea. And I can tell you that’s very true. Just find a new fish. And then one day you’ll see him for what he was and be grateful you didn’t marry the idiot.”

  She laughed. “I look forward to being glad he’s not in my life.”

  “Yep. And in the meantime, I brought an extra bag of red seedless grapes for the youngest member of the band.”

  “The youngest member …” She dropped the sentence, realizing she’d been adopted or hoodwinked or something. “I’d like a few minutes, okay?”

  “Absolutely.” He stood. “The afternoon will be fun. Guaranteed to lessen the disappointment of”—he pointed at her dress pocket that held her phone—“that.”

  He went inside to join his friends and her aunt, leaving her alone with the barren trees and cold winds. But it didn’t take her long to realize where she’d gone wrong. She’d set her mind on a new life and then looked back. That’s not where her future was. It was time she took out the loan and prepared to go to nursing school. And just as God had brought her to a better place this Thanksgiving than last, she was sure next year would be even better.

  “This life, God. I choose this one.”

  A blast of off-key music sounded, followed by boisterous laughter. She was sure they’d hit those sour notes on purpose.

  She crossed the yard and went inside. Zabeth and about half the band turned in her direction. Some clapped that she’d finally arrived. Others made weird noises with their instruments.

  Behind the keyboard, Martin smiled. Her cheeks warmed. He often reminded her of those men she’d seen on advertisement posters in the mall: thick, dark hair; beautiful green eyes; and a grin that could melt the winter snow.

  She returned the smile before peeling off her cape and taking a seat next to Zabeth. “Hey, I’d love to hear that song ‘Inside Your Love.’ ”

  “Sure thing.” Martin thumbed through his songbook and grabbed the sheet music. He held it out to Hannah. “You have to help us sing it.”

  Perched behind the electronic drums, Greg held the microphone toward her.

  Zabeth nudged her. “Take it.”

  “Adopted or hoodwinked,” Hannah mumbled as she rose to her feet.

  Martin pulled his mike close and spoke in a raspy, dramatic voice. “Hannah’s life lay before her like a desert, nothing but school, work, and pushy musicians controlling her for years to come.” He played the death march on the keyboard.

  Greg followed it with the drum roll they always played at the end of a joke. Zabeth broke into laughter. Hannah interrupted the clashing music, laughter, and sarcastic remarks by starting to sing a praise song Martin wrote after he’d started going to church again: “You and You alone are my Alpha and my Omega …”

  Martin immediately started playing the tune and joined her in singing. “My life is hidden in You. All I hope to be is kept safe inside Your love …”

  Within a few lines, each member had found his spot and joined in playing and singing.

  “Inside You we find our path.”

  With one hand on the steering wheel while waiting at a red light, Hannah fumbled through her purse, trying to find her sunglasses. She felt the frames just as the light turned green and quickly put them on. Her eyes were light sensitive when driving. Martin said it was because she was getting old. She teased back that, if she was old, what did that make him? Charming and intelligent, was his answer, but for her birthday he bought her a pair of sunglasses.

  She merged onto the main road with ease as Kevin and Lissa prattled excitedly about what games they’d play with their Amish friends while the women quilted.

  Kevin kicked the back of her seat. “Hannah, will Noah be here today?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  Lissa clapped her hands. “And Mandy too?”

  “If Noah is there, his sister will be there too.” She glanced at the rearview mirror before changing lanes. At seven years old, Noah spoke some English. Unfortunately for Lissa, Mandy didn’t. But Noah enjoyed interpreting for the two of them. Hannah found the warm acceptance of her—and now the Palmer children—by the Amish women quite surprising. Maybe this relationship worked because she came to them as an extension of an Englischer doctor who operated an Amish birthing clinic. She didn’t know, but whatever the reason, she found it refreshing.

  Martin’s iPod lay on the seat next to her. He’d dropped it off at Zabeth’s last night while she was at school and had left a message that there was a list of songs he wanted her to hear, but she hadn’t had time. Back in November, after her last attempt to reach Paul, she’d begun opening up to Martin, and she wasn’t disappointed. Even though he had a tendency to be blunt and sarcastic sometimes, he’d turned out to be a good friend. And for a guy, he seemed pretty much in tune with life. He was definitely right about her getting over Paul. Of late, more days than not, Hannah didn’t even think about him. And when she did, it no longer shot pain through her but only caused a dull ache.

  She’d turned nineteen two months ago, and before going out to eat with Zabeth and Martin for her birthday, she had walked into the field by herself and told Paul good-bye. He’d told her that through his actions, but this time she told him. At first she’d felt silly talking out loud as if he could actually hear her. But later, when she sat at a candlelit table in a fine restaurant with Zabeth and Martin, discussing her schooling and career possibilities, the euphoric feeling of taking flight once again stirred within her. She knew she was free of what might have been with Paul and had chosen to look straight into the future at what could be. Not only was she hopeful about all of life, but prayer, along with the Tuesday-night meetings at the counseling center, had brought her acceptance without shame concerning the rape.

  Acceptance without shame. That seemed to be the greatest sense of peace she’d received this past year. God had cultivated it; she enjoyed it. The beauty she felt each time she prayed told her He wasn’t finished yet.

  As she pulled into the driveway of the clinic, Kevin unfastened his seat belt. “There’s no on
e at clinic.”

  Hannah got out of the car and opened the door beside Lissa. “It happens sometimes.” She heard a cat meow as she unbuckled Lissa and lifted her from her seat. It had to be Snickers, a stray cat the midwives had adopted. If Snickers knew what was good for her, she’d hide before the children found her. “The clinic is open for appointments every Monday. After that the doctor and midwives come in when they’re called.”

  Kevin shut his door. “Now how’s an Amish person who has no phone gonna call if no one’s here?”

  Hannah chuckled. He was bright for a five-and-a-half-year-old. She thought he should be in kindergarten, but school attendance wasn’t mandatory before age six, and, along with a great many other inconsistencies in her children’s lives, Faye said she wasn’t sending him. “Some Amish have phones, just not inside their homes. But the midwife keeps a cell phone with her, and she gives the patient a cell phone to use. Make sense?”

  “Yeah.” He pointed to the end of the lane.

  Three Amish buggies were pulling in, one behind the other.

  “I see Noah!” Kevin reached into his pocket and pulled out two identical plastic horses. “One for me and one for my friend.”

  Hannah rubbed the top of his head. “He’ll like that.”

  Lissa brushed her hair back from her face. “You gonna pin my hair up like Mandy’s?”

  “Sure. I have the stuff for it right here in my dress pocket.” Hannah ran her fingers through Lissa’s hair and twisted it.

  Another round of pitiful meows came from somewhere, and Kevin started searching under the car for the animal.

  “It’s not there, Kevin, but I appreciate your confidence in my driving skills.”

  Without noticing her humor, he looked around the yard. “Where do you think it is?”

  Before the buggies came to a complete halt, Noah jumped down. “Kevin, you’re here.”

  Hannah opened the screen door and held it, greeting each of the seven women as she entered the building. The children set out to find the cat.

  Sadie, looking every bit the grandmother, stopped in front of Hannah with a plate of cookies in hand. “I think eating while working on a quilt is just asking for stains, but my daughter said to bring these to you. Said you helped deliver her baby.”

  “I only helped because it meant you’d bring me cookies.” Hannah took one off the plate.

  Several children ran into the shop, knocking into Sadie while yelling something about the cat. Hannah steadied Sadie with one hand and grabbed the plate of cookies with the other.

  Sadie’s hands instantly clasped Hannah’s shoulders. “Forget the cookies, girl. They almost plowed me under.”

  “Yeah, but I saved the important part.”

  The women enjoyed a hearty laugh. Hannah gave each child a cookie and shooed them outside.

  “Clearly, Hannah thinks my cookies are the answer to everything. Does anyone even know what the children were carrying on about?”

  “They are happy and outside. Does anybody care?” Lois mumbled around a bite of cookie.

  Chatter went in a dozen directions as they settled down to work on their latest quilt, a log cabin star quilt.

  Sadie placed her hand over Hannah’s. “My Katy was scared when she was in hard labor but not dilating. She said you stayed, assuring her she was fine, for eighteen hours straight. Thank you.”

  Hannah nodded and squeezed Sadie’s hand.

  Kevin and Noah ran inside, one prattling in English and one in Pennsylvania Dutch. Neither was understandable.

  Noah’s mother, Lois, jabbed a needle into the quilt. “Boys, what is going on with you today?”

  “The cat’s stuck way up in a tree.”

  Lois’s eyes grew wide. “Still?”

  “Yes.” The boys nodded.

  “What do you mean ‘still’?” Verna asked.

  “I came by here yesterday to leave a box of material, and it was way up in a tree. I figured it’d climb down before now.”

  Kevin grabbed Hannah’s hand. “Come on.”

  The women hurried out the door and soon were gathered around the trunk of the medium-sized tree. “It must be twenty-five feet up that tree,” Verna said.

  Lois squinted. “The poor thing has climbed even higher since yesterday.”

  “Think just looking at it will make it come down?” Sadie nudged Nora with her elbow.

  “We could try bribing it with a cookie,” Fannie suggested. “It would work for Hannah.”

  The women giggled, but the poor cat clung to the tree, meowing itself hoarse.

  “Think the fire department would come rescue it?” Nora asked.

  Hannah shook her head. “There was a write-up in the paper recently, explaining that they stopped rescuing cats long ago.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Fannie asked.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “Climb a stupid tree. But I can’t climb back down while holding on to that cat. It’ll scratch me to pieces, and we’ll both fall.”

  Sadie wiped her hands on her apron. “You can drop the cat, and we’ll stretch something out to catch it.”

  “Oh, that’s a good idea. Let’s get a sheet from the clinic. And I have a set of scrubs in my car that I can put on.”

  “Scrubs?” Katy asked. “You gonna clean the cat while you’re there?”

  “It’s my nurse’s uniform, and it has pants. No one can climb a tree in a dress.”

  Sadie propped her hands on her hips. “Yes, we know. It’s the reason Amish women agreed to wear only dresses hundreds of years ago. Our foremothers banded together and decided if we never wanted to climb up after a cat, we’d better make a dress code.”

  Lois motioned toward Hannah. “But this is the first time their reasoning has ever come in handy.”

  The women all nodded in agreement before bursting into laughter. The cat startled at the noise and climbed even higher into the tree.

  “You’re all a lot of help.”

  “Denke,” the group chorused.

  “I’ll change. You get the sheet.” She gave Sadie a key to the clinic.

  Within minutes, the women were showing the children how to hold the sheet for the cat to land in. Hannah climbed higher and higher.

  “Hey, Hannah?” Sadie called. “If the fire department doesn’t rescue cats, does it rescue girls who go after cats?”

  The women’s personalities often reminded Hannah of those she’d known in Owl’s Perch. Even when Hannah felt overwhelmed in this Englischer world, these ladies—and Zabeth—were steady reminders of her heritage.

  She was finally high enough to grab the cat by the scruff of the neck. It writhed and whined, trying to get its nails into her arm. She held it over the sheet. “You ready?”

  “Ya.”

  She let go of the cat. The children looked up at the screeching fur ball as it hurtled toward them. They dropped their portion of the sheet and took off running. The women laughed so hard they could barely stay standing as the cat hit the sheet and darted toward the woods. The children chased after it, screaming for Snickers to come back.

  Hannah held on to the tree, her arms scraped, her scrubs dirty, and her body shaking all over as she tried to control her laughter so she wouldn’t fall the twenty feet to the ground—all for a stupid cat.

  The upside was that the next time she saw Martin, she’d have an amusing story to share. She could hear him laughing already.

  Kneeling beside her marriage bed, Mary ran her hand over her flat stomach, whispering words of repentance for the thousandth time. The delay in conceiving should have been a relief to her, but it only reminded her that she’d sinned. Last year she’d bowed before God, receiving the baptism of faith, while hiding a secret. Her first-year anniversary would soon be upon her, and her shame weighed heavy.

  A sob escaped her. She alone knew why she wasn’t yet with child. No one asked any questions, but every other couple in her community who had married during last year’s wedding season either had a babe or would deliv
er one before the winter’s end. This year’s wedding season had begun, and she wondered if she’d have to endure seeing these new brides hold a baby in their arms before she did. Right now she wished the wedding season only happened every other year, just like the Amish instruction period did. Then at least there wouldn’t be a whole group of new brides coming up pregnant when she wasn’t.

  Would she not conceive until she told her husband the truth?

  In deciding to put matters in God’s hands, not once had she considered that she might not get pregnant. Her thoughts had fully centered on trusting Him to help her survive childbirth; that’s where the doctor said the problems could come, wasn’t it?

  Then she should be grateful she didn’t have to face that concern. But she wasn’t.

  Luke cleared his throat, startling her. She opened her eyes to see him in the doorway of the bedroom. He was so handsome in his best Sunday clothes, dressed for the wedding they’d attend today.

  Mary rose to her feet, feeling her cheeks burn.

  He fidgeted with the black winter hat in his hand. “The buggy’s hitched. You about ready?”

  She fought tears. “Ya.”

  With Luke’s eyes glued to her, she slid her Sunday apron over her dress and began pinning it into place.

  Luke stepped toward her. “We’ll have a baby when it’s time, Mary.” He ran his hands through his dark hair. “If you could just accept that this is God’s hand of protection.”

  Unable to look him in the eye, Mary nodded.

  His protection?

  What would her husband think if he knew her empty womb was God’s hand of judgment—one she might not ever get free of even if she told Luke, her Daed, and the church leaders the truth? How would Luke feel when he learned she hadn’t trusted him to keep his vow to marry her, that she’d withheld information so he would marry her? She’d taken her instruction and baptism with a cloud of deceit hovering around her—a fog of self-deception mostly. Tricking herself into thinking she was trusting God for her life when all she was doing was using that trusting God phrase to hide her selfish motives. But somewhere inside her she’d known what she really thought … or else she would have told Luke everything and let him have a say as her future head. She’d removed that right from him, not because she trusted God, but because she was spoiled.