Sisters of the Quilt

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Luke squared his shoulders, clearly teasing. “Of course you do.”

  Mary lowered her hand. “You’d better get back at it with the men. We’re fine from here.”

  Luke walked toward the shops, but he kept turning back, catching a glimpse of Mary. Hannah believed him to be more in love today than when he married her dear friend, and it warmed her. Mary lifted a casserole from the seat of the cart and headed for the steps to the Esh home.

  Naomi passed Hannah an armful of items: pitchers, ladles, and sugar. She then passed a few wooden spoons and cloth napkins to Lissa before grabbing as much as she could carry. “Come on.” Naomi nodded toward her home.

  Hannah followed, and they entered Naomi’s kitchen. Food lined several worktables that were covered with fabric. More than two dozen women were scurrying about to have the next meal ready by supper-time. Hannah remembered well that when dealing with this many mouths to feed, there wasn’t enough time, supplies, or energy between dinner and supper.

  Naomi cleared a space on the table. “We need however many loaves of bread you can bake, Hannah.”

  There would be no introduction, no fanfare concerning her return. If some of the women chose to talk to her, they would. If they didn’t, they’d pretend she wasn’t there. When she looked across the room, a few halfhearted smiles greeted her. The blank stares of others were far from warm or accepting, but no one spoke.

  Kathryn Glick, someone she barely remembered, passed her a sack of bread flour. “Hi, Hannah. I’m really glad you’re here.”

  From somewhere across the room, Hannah’s mother emerged. Mamm’s eyes told Hannah she loved her. Her mother moved forward and hugged her. “I’m glad you came. You do know that, right?”

  “I do now.” Hannah squeezed her, letting years of ache melt away. When she opened her eyes, she saw several women crowded around. Edna reached for Hannah, and soon tears blurred her eyes as she received hugs from more than half the women in the room.

  Her mother wiped tears from her face. “If you’ll do the bread, we’ll handle everything else, including setting the tables and serving the men.”

  Lissa gazed up at her, nodding her head. “I’ll help.”

  Hannah placed her hand on Lissa’s head. The girl seemed to live in perpetual excitement for life, although her attention span for anything in the kitchen wouldn’t last like her love of creeks and water. She’d be by Hannah’s side for maybe ten minutes, probably less.

  Thankful for a set job, Hannah nodded.

  Now, was she still capable of making bread like she used to? It’d been a long time since she’d made a batch of dough in a kitchen without electricity. Determined to give it her all, she walked to the pantry.

  Afternoon shadows began to creep across the yard as the sun moved westward. Luke stood still for a moment, trying to catch a glimpse of Mary. She was setting pitchers of water on the table. He hoped she wasn’t doing too much. In spite of the workday and all the hope and socializing it brought, the weight of losing David Esh was heavy on everyone, especially the womenfolk. He’d seen Mary’s fears over their unborn child increase since the funeral. Hannah’s return gave Mary someone she could talk to. That was good. He was glad. Really. But he got the feeling they were hiding secrets again.

  By midnight.

  What did that mean, anyway? He hadn’t had any reservations about the day Hannah helped Mary dig potatoes. But then today they’d gone out by themselves, ignoring any reservations the bishop might have if he found out. His wife and sister sure did a lot of private talking, didn’t they? Then again, it was only Hannah’s second visit to Owl’s Perch in over two years. Mary spotted him and waved. He trotted to her.

  “Hey.” The word came out breathless. “Maybe you should get off your feet for a spell.”

  “I’m doing great. Why, Hannah was telling me that women who stay busy and even those who have some extra stress in their lives are more likely to give birth to healthy babies than the women who live too soft and easy. She said the baby comes out ready to fight for life.”

  “You want us to have a fighter?” Luke laughed.

  Mary ran her hand over her stomach. “Not if you put it that way.”

  A deep male voice called Luke’s name.

  “I need to get back. You take it easy, okay?”

  She nodded, but there was something in her eyes, something he’d asked her about a dozen times over the last few months.

  “Mary?”

  She gazed up at him.

  “Something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Everything’s great, but I … got some things I want to tell you. Good things, really.”

  “Can’t you just say them right now?”

  “No, and not at home either, not with Sarah and Mammi Annie listening.”

  Luke tried to read his wife. Their bedroom was private enough, but Mary wouldn’t let any disagreements be aired out there. That had to be done elsewhere, usually outside when they went for a walk, sometimes at the supper table, in front of Mammi Annie, but never in the bedroom. “I … I thought you said it was good news?”

  “It is, but—”

  Several more men called Luke’s name. He looked up, and four or five of them were watching him, waiting. As an owner of E and L, he was supposed to be supervising. “You hold those thoughts, and as soon as things settle down for the day, I’ll come find you.”

  Hannah turned the last loaf of cooling bread out of its pan and then wiped her hands on the towel that lay across her shoulder. The report Naomi had given about thirty minutes ago was that most of the men had eaten and some had gone on home. Only the younger men were still at it, with sledgehammers and wheelbarrows.

  Shouts from several men filled the air, and the few remaining women in the room ran outside. Hannah took a peek through the kitchen window, wanting to spot Lissa. The girl stood near the tire swing with several other children, waiting her turn. Hannah looked out farther, trying to see what’d caused the ruckus. She couldn’t see the shop area for the sprawling leaf-covered branches of oak trees, but Luke was walking toward the house. When he spotted her in the window, he motioned for her. She ran outside.

  He pointed at the shops … or where the shops used to be. The men had removed almost all the charred debris from the concrete foundation in one day. Impressive.

  Luke shook his head. “We were too tired and shoulda quit earlier. Paul’s hurt, but he says it’s not bad enough to be seen. Will you do me a favor and take a look?”

  “If he says he’s not hurt …”

  “Hannah.” Luke lowered his voice, giving an entire lecture in her name.

  “Fine. Where is he?”

  “There.” Luke pointed across the yard to a group of men near a wagon. A pile of charred wood lay on the ground around the men’s feet.

  They picked up their pace. “What happened?”

  “A couple of men were trying to get a load of heavy beams on top of what was already in the wagon. When the load began to slide, Paul caught it with his shoulder, slowing the landslide long enough to give Jacob time to get mostly out of the way before the load came crashing down.”

  Luke and Hannah closed the gap. Paul’s shirt was covered in soot and tattered from the day’s work. In spite of the black stains, Hannah saw blood soaking his shirt, starting above his elbow and dripping off the end of his finger.

  “Paul,”—Luke motioned to her—“let Hannah take a look.”

  Paul glanced at her. “I’m fine. Really.”

  Was he afraid her scarlet letter would once again be shared with him? That any contact with her would break whatever threads of goodwill he’d sewn between himself and the Amish community in her absence?

  “Then let me look.” She stepped closer and pulled at the edges of the ripped sleeve, trying to see the source of the blood.

  Ignoring his stiff reaction to her presence, she tore the sleeve of his shirt where it was already tattered and took a look at the injury. “We need to irrigate it, disinfecting it.
And you might need stitches.” Like changing gears while driving, she let her nursing skills take over. Someone needed to get her medical bag for her. “Where’s Matthew?”

  Luke tugged at his straw hat, tightening it onto his head. “He went to the Bylers’ to use their phone. Since we’re getting so much done, he’s gone to check prices and delivery for timber.”

  “Oh, okay. This isn’t an emergency, but, Peter, could you bridle a rested horse for Luke so he can go to the Yoders and get my medical bag quicker and easier than walking?”

  “Sure thing.” Peter hurried toward the stables.

  Paul angled his body away from the others, clearly wishing to convey something only to her. “I’d be more concerned about Jacob if I were you.”

  Hannah looked at the young man, Mary’s brother and Sarah’s onetime beau. He’d grown half a foot since the last time she saw him, but more important, he was pale and shaking, his breathing shallow.

  She removed the kitchen towel from her shoulder and placed it over Paul’s wound. “Hold this tight and try to hold the sides of the gash together to slow the bleeding.” Stepping over to the young man, she asked, “Jacob, how are you feeling?”

  “I … I …”

  Hannah took his chin and directed his face so she could look in his eyes. His pupils were dilated. She took his wrist. His pulse was racing, his breathing irregular, and his skin cold.

  Was this a reaction to seeing blood flow freely from Paul? Or maybe it was a combination of being startled by the incident and seeing the blood. It seemed an extreme reaction to those things, so maybe he was hurt more than it appeared.

  The crowd around them grew larger. Hannah turned and saw Kathryn. “I need several blankets, please.”

  She nodded and headed quickly for the house.

  Hannah placed her hand under his arm. “Jacob, I want you to lie down.”

  He started easing to the ground, and then his legs apparently lost their power, because he landed on his backside with a thud.

  Hannah glanced at the women. “Could someone keep an eye on Lissa for me?”

  Mary spoke up, saying she would.

  Hannah placed her hand on Jacob’s neck and head, easing him to a lying position. “All the way on your back, please.”

  He complied.

  “That’s it.” She stood and moved to his feet and lifted them. “Just relax.” Glancing at the group, she saw Jacob’s mom, Becky, at the back of the crowd, trying to see. “Becky?”

  She threaded her way through quickly, looking worried, but the more involved Hannah could keep her, the calmer she’d remain.

  “If you’ll hold his feet about a foot off the ground, that’d be very helpful.”

  Becky knelt, doing as instructed.

  Hannah reached into her pocket and grabbed her car keys. “Luke, my medical bag is in the trunk of my car. It’s a brown leather tote bag.” Showing him the keyless remote, she pointed to the unlock icon.

  Luke stared at her, much like during her first visit to Owl’s Perch. “You have a medical bag?”

  “It was a Christmas gift from Dr. Lehman, and I always keep it with me.”

  She showed him the right icon on the keyless remote again. “When you’re beside the car, push that twice. Then push the trunk icon, and it’ll open.”

  Luke took the keys and studied the keyless remote. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, if it doesn’t, you can use this key.” She pointed to the right one. “But it doesn’t work well on the trunk and has been known to set off the alarm. If it does, ignore it and bring me the bag. Okay?”

  Peter arrived with a bareback horse, and Luke pulled himself onto it and galloped off.

  Hannah checked Jacob’s pulse. It was already a little more even. “We’ll have some blankets for you in just a minute.” She ran her hands over his chest. “Did you get hit when the accident happened?”

  “J-just a bit.”

  “Where?”

  He pointed to the top of his shoulder.

  Knowing that couldn’t cause any bruising to an organ, she pressed on his sides, kneading his flesh under her hands. “Did any other part of you get hit with the boards?”

  He shook his head. Kathryn came back with the blankets, and Hannah spread them over him.

  Matthew’s Daed walked up with a drink and held it out. “Here, this will help.”

  She shook her head. “A drink right now isn’t a good idea, but thank you. He needs to stay lying down. But I could use a knife to cut his shirt. I need to see the injury.”

  Someone passed her a knife. The sun hung low in the sky, making it a little harder to see, but he had no cuts or gashes, only a good-sized bruise on his shoulder. She ran her fingers over his shoulder, feeling for any signs of a dislocation or break.

  Becky held on to Jacob’s feet, stroking his pant-covered legs. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I think his sympathetic nervous system is reacting to the situation, which is similar to experiencing mild shock. He seems fine except for the bruise on his shoulder. But I can’t tell if anything is torn or broken. He may need an x-ray.”

  Becky studied her son. “Do you think he needs one?”

  “I can’t be sure.”

  “But you know what you think,” Jacob’s Daed added firmly.

  Hannah glanced to Paul. They didn’t want the Englischer nurse’s version—go let an expert see you, even if you think you’re fine. They wanted a trust-your-gut Amish answer—if he’s likely to be fine without seeing a doctor, then give that a chance first.

  She shrugged. “It’s too early to tell. I’d like to give his body a few minutes and see how he reacts. I’ll check his vitals as soon as Luke returns. Right now we’re going to make a thick pallet beside him and get him off the cold ground, and someone’s going to get a chair for Paul.”

  Several women helped Jacob shift onto the pallet and covered him with a blanket. Both his pulse and color were returning to normal. When Luke returned, Hannah checked Jacob’s blood pressure and the reaction of his pupils to the light of her ophthalmoscope. All of his autonomic systems were coming back into normal range.

  Jacob tugged at the blood pressure cuff. “Can you remove this thing and let me up now? I feel fine.”

  Hannah shook her head. “You can sit up, but that’s all. If that works, we’ll go from there.”

  His mother released his feet, letting him sit upright. She shooed everyone back. “Go on and eat or clean up or rest or whatever. We’re fine. If Hannah needs anything, we’ll holler.”

  The group slowly dispersed, walking back to the Esh home. Paul sat in a chair about five feet away. Someone had brought two extra lawn chairs, and a washbowl filled with clean water sat in one of them.

  Hannah paused, insisting her legs keep moving. The oddity of Paul patiently waiting mocked her. She took a deep breath, trying to repel feelings that were a betrayal to Martin. Sitting next to Paul, she pointed at his shoulder. “Let’s take a look.”

  As he eased his hand away, she placed hers over the towel.

  Ignoring the strangeness of being so close to him, she focused on her duties. “Are you on any type of medication?” She spoke softly, trying to honor his right to privacy even though Jacob and Becky were just a few feet away.

  “No.”

  “When is the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

  “About two years ago.”

  “Good. You won’t need to get another. Do you take baby aspirin or ibuprofen regularly?”

  “Baby aspirin?” He laughed. “If you have something to say, Hannah, don’t beat around the bush.”

  She suppressed a smile. “I take it the answer is no?”

  “Yes … I mean, correct. The answer is no.”

  Closing her eyes, she shook her head quickly, as if he were driving her nuts. He laughed.

  She slowly peeled the towel off his gash. “Your blood clots fast. For cuts like this, that’s generally good, except I have to open the wound back up to clean it out, and it’
ll start bleeding again. I’m really sorry.”

  “You sure you’re sorry?” he teased.

  Willing herself to be painfully honest, she realized humility didn’t come easily for her. “Sometimes the words just don’t cover it,” she whispered, refusing to look him in the eye.

  “It’s behind us, Hannah. Forgiveness has happened. And now we move forward.”

  Feeling her mouth go dry and her heart palpitate, she looked up. In that brief moment a piece of her soul seemed to become his. Shifting her focus, she pulled prepackaged items out of her medical bag. “I’ve been horrid and mean. Is forgiving that effortless for you?” She laid the items in her lap.

  Paul held out his arm to her. “Forgiving you is easy. You weren’t culpable. Forgiving myself takes a good bit more faith, daily.”

  She pulled a pair of scissors out of her bag and slid the opened shears up the sleeve of his shirt and then around his bicep, removing the fabric completely. Desperate to turn the subject elsewhere, she thought of a topic. “I … I can’t believe how much better Sarah is.” Hannah reached into her bag and grabbed a bottle of cleanser. She poured the povidone-iodine solution into the bowl of water and stirred it with her finger.

  “Hey,” Jacob complained, “can’t I get up now?”

  “Yes, but stand slowly.” She watched to see if he wavered any. He appeared steady. “Are you feeling the least bit sick to your stomach?”

  “No, just hungry.”

  Hannah dried her wet finger on a piece of gauze. “Becky, why don’t you see that he eats and drinks a small portion … slowly of course. And just as a precaution, he should take it easy for twenty-four hours. I’ll check the range of motion in his shoulder later, and then we’ll discuss getting x-rays.”

  Becky squeezed Hannah’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “Glad to do what I can.” Hannah ripped open a package holding a sterilized bulb syringe, filled it with the disinfectant solution, and began cleaning Paul’s gash.

  He tilted his head, looking at the cleaned-out, slightly bleeding gash. “Can I ask how things went with Mary?”