Sisters of the Quilt

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “I see what you mean.”

  “You’re the only one who understands the orders since the fire. Ya did the work, made hours of calls to make sense of them, even reorganized the storage shop while I was gone. You can line everythin’ up—the customer orders, the supplies, the restocking of parts we don’t have in the storage at Luke’s old shop—while me and Luke use that time to construct the new buildings. If you’re willin’ to stay and keep everything lined up, we can stop construction for a few hours each day and begin pecking away at filling orders. If we don’t have you doin’ that part of the job for us, we can’t fill any orders until the buildings are completed.”

  Kathryn folded her arms and leaned back in the chair. “I set up this workday to help you get ahead, and now you come up with this plan?”

  “Today was great, Kathryn.” And it was, even if Joseph did show up and cause Matthew to turn green a few times. “We got a lot done. My whole family needed this—the distraction, the fellowship, the hope. But … what was your goal?”

  “I wanted to make the tearing-down process easier and quicker. Are you disappointed in my plan?”

  “No, no, not at all.” Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, a little.”

  “What’s going on?” Her voice was as peaceful as when she was bidding him good morning or good night. This type of calm, reasonable reaction was one of the many things that drew him to her.

  He took a seat beside her. “Tonight, as ya told your Joseph goodbye, it dawned on me what all our hard work today meant. That you’d go home for several weeks, maybe all winter, while we got the sides and roof up. I … I don’t want that to happen.” He brushed the back of her hand with the tip of his index finger. “Surely you know that.”

  “Matthew, you’re barely broken up with Elle. You can’t possibly think you’re remotely interested in me.”

  “That’s not an exact account. I’d sent her a letter endin’ things before you ever came to work for me. Your first day here she showed up to object to me breaking up with her. Then a month later, the day of the fire, she returned again, asking me to reconsider. After the devastation of losing David, I thought I felt a spark of interest.”

  “So you run off to Baltimore with anyone you think you have a spark of interest for?”

  “I went because I was willing to consider and reconsider anything that might help me find my way. What I learned while there is”—Matthew moved in closer and took Kathryn’s hand—“it’s your friendship, your ways that speak to me.”

  “Well, okay, friends, yes, but I … I’m seeing Joseph.”

  “If he means all that much to ya, then tell me so. All I’m askin’ is for some time for me to court you.”

  She wound one string of her prayer Kapp around her index finger. “That’s not all you’re asking. Us seeing each other is a gamble, one that, if we lose, will end this friendship, and please don’t try to tell me it won’t.”

  “And you’ll take that gamble with Joseph but not with me?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Different how?”

  “For one thing it isn’t a working relationship with him. You and I work well together. I don’t want to mess that up.”

  “And …”

  She pursed her lips, looking really aggravated. “That’s plenty for you to know.”

  Maybe he wasn’t being fair to her. The grief over David was still thick, and maybe he was mistaken to think Kathryn cared more for him than for Joseph, but he’d seen her around Joseph today. She was a little cool and distant, wasn’t she?

  Matthew played with the corners of the papers spread out in front of them. “If ya really care for Joseph, that’s one thing. But you don’t owe stickin’ with him because your Daed wants you to live close to home and Joseph is available.”

  “Matthew Esh, you’re out of line.” She pushed the papers and calculator away from her. “And what about the bishop? He’s overlooked a lot where you’ve been concerned, but going off with someone who’s not even a church member …”

  Matthew sighed. It sounded so much worse when she put it that way. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, and I’ll deal with them with the bishop.”

  Kathryn played with the strings of her prayer Kapp again, something she did when thinking and deciding. “I … I don’t know what to think, Matthew. Fact is, I’m not likely to sort through it until I go home.”

  “Will you at least come spend some time with everyone tonight?”

  “Luke and Mary are arguing. I’d rather not.”

  “Whatever they’re arguin’ about, they’ll get over it soon. I’m sure of it.” He stood. “Okay?”

  She rose and put the papers and calculator away. “Okay.”

  Hannah remained in her seat, watching as Luke and Mary entered the tiny circle of chairs. They walked side by side, glowing.

  Wondering if she and Martin ever glowed, Hannah pulled the blanket off her body. “Does this mean I can get some sleep now? And return to Ohio tomorrow?”

  Before she finished her sentence, Matthew and Kathryn came out the side door. Luke gestured for Paul to move over one chair. Paul then took the empty spot next to Hannah.

  Luke took a seat. “Ohio.” He looked about the group. “Does anyone else here think it’s odd that she never calls it home?”

  Matthew propped his foot on the rough-sawed coffee table. “I noticed that. Paul?”

  Paul shrugged. “I’d rather talk about the price of tea in China.”

  “Knock it off, Luke. You too, Matthew. Zabeth’s cabin has been home since I first saw it, but I had to move out of there, and … and Martin’s place isn’t quite comfortable yet.”

  Luke’s brows knit. “You’re living with him?”

  “No, of course not. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I live in the cottage behind his home. It makes taking care of Lissa and Kevin easier.”

  Luke studied her. “Yeah, for him.”

  Her ire grew, and she leaned forward. “I know how this must look, and I appreciate that you’re concerned for me, but Martin and I have needed and helped each other from the first day we met. When Lissa and Kevin’s mother abandoned them on my doorstep, Martin and I formed an even tighter team. If anyone has a problem with that, they need to keep it to themselves.”

  Matthew pulled a well-used deck of Dutch Blitz cards out of his pant pocket.

  He ruffled the cards while looking at Hannah. “Ya go to church?”

  “Yes, when I’m not on call and helping deliver babies.”

  Luke shifted. “Martin goes too?”

  Hannah reminded herself that they were asking because they cared, but she wasn’t used to people prying. In her world no one asked. “He’s more faithful about it than I am.”

  Matthew continued shuffling the cards. “That’s because he can tolerate it better. I attended one of those Englischer churches. Give me a hard, backless pew and a three-hour service in someone’s living room or a barn any day over the loud music, squealing microphones, and messages on the walls.”

  A light chortle went through the group.

  Kathryn rose and tugged on Matthew’s collar. “Before you deal, let’s fix some hot chocolate and popcorn for everyone.”

  Matthew shoved the cards into his pocket. “We’ll be back.”

  Hannah placed her folded forearms on her legs, leaning closer to the heater. “A few unexpected things happened today, so Paul and I made some good progress with Sarah.”

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear it.” Luke folded his hands. “She became such a mess after you left, but if we could have gotten her some help then …”

  Hannah shivered. “I knew she was dishing out grief to me—spreading rumors and lies about me everywhere—but I never recognized her behavior as a red flag that she needed help. You probably can’t imagine how muddled that time was for me. Some parts of it were too vivid, and other parts were so vague it’s like I wasn’t even there for the events.”

  Paul turned up
the heater. “Yeah, I guess that’s a pretty accurate description, isn’t it?”

  Luke grabbed a blanket off a nearby chair and passed it to Mary. “I know it took Paul days, maybe weeks, to decide whether to hire a private investigator to help find you.”

  Hannah turned to Paul, not at all sure she could calmly handle hearing about this.

  “I wavered in what to do, and I’ll never know if I was right or not, but it seemed inherently wrong to track you down when you had good reasons for leaving and equal reasons for not wanting to return. And you knew how to reach me … if you’d wanted to.”

  Without any lingering doubts, she knew Paul had never received the messages when she’d called. She had to let Paul know about that, didn’t she?

  She finally understood all, or nearly all, of what had taken place. “You weren’t wrong to let me decide for myself. Besides, finding me would have been impossible. With or without a name change, I almost couldn’t find myself.”

  Paul laid his hand over hers. “I’m proud of you, always have been.”

  Her eyes misted. “I needed that freedom so I could make totally new stupid mistakes all over again.”

  Paul laughed softly with her. “You and me both.”

  Hannah was confident that throughout the years to come they’d remain friends rather than merely tolerate the presence of each other. With him so firmly rooted in Sarah’s life, respecting each other was a real perk. Still, shouldn’t she tell him the truth about his not receiving her calls? What if it was Dorcas who hadn’t passed him the messages? Didn’t he need to know that? Or had she handled things in the only way she knew to protect Paul?

  Knowing she needed time to think this through, Hannah leaned back. “I’m curious, Paul. My shortcomings are easily seen by those around me, but yours?”

  He laughed softly. “Are you asking me to spill all my weaknesses?”

  “Come on, no one gets off scot-free.”

  His grin faded. “You’ve had to survive a few of them, you know.”

  Hannah tried to piece things together in her mind. “I’m drawing a blank here.”

  He slumped in mock resignation. “And you just have to talk about this now?”

  She nodded. “Yep.”

  “Women,” he muttered, a half smile making him look mischievous. “I have … hopefully it’s I had a strong tendency to jump to conclusions and then act on them as if they were facts—like when I left without hearing you out or when I assumed you were married because your last name was different.”

  Luke scoffed. “Well, horse neck, Waddell, weren’t you justified?”

  “To follow the clues and be mistaken in my conclusions, yes. To act on my assumption without asking questions, digging deeper, and listening, no.”

  Hannah kept her focus on the gas heater, but she wanted to offer some encouragement to Paul. “Zabeth once said when you figure out where you’re messing up and you hate that behavior bad enough, that’s where all the good parts of you begin.”

  “Guys,” Kathryn called from the door of the house, “can I have a head count of who does and does not like whipped cream in their cocoa?”

  Mary stood. “I should probably just give her a hand.”

  Luke rose and caught her by the hand. “I’ll go with you, just to make sure you don’t lift anything too heavy.”

  “Whipped cream?” Mary paused midstep. Paul and Hannah nodded.

  She snuggled under the blanket. “So, what do you do for fun?”

  “Ah, a much easier question to deal with.” Paul stretched out his legs in front of him. “I hang out with some of my college buddies. We hike, fish, camp out, play some tag football, shoot some pool. You?”

  “I work, go to school, and study. Around those things I try to find time for Martin, Lissa, and Kevin.”

  “It sounds like you’re doing your college years a lot like I did mine—all work, no play. I don’t recommend it.”

  “Martin does the event planning for us—band gatherings and stuff—but if he didn’t, I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Don’t you have something you do that’s just fun, something you’d really miss if you didn’t do it?”

  “Sure, Kevin and Lissa.”

  He chuckled. “I meant something indulgent. For me it’s ball games, major or minor league. Baseball is my favorite, but football ranks up there too.”

  “But that’s …” She dropped the sentence, not wanting to make him defend himself.

  “Not allowed in the Plain life? Uh, if it was, I probably never would have struggled with whether to remain Plain or not.”

  “But how do you keep up with it—radio, television, newspaper?”

  “Yes.”

  She laughed. “Paul Waddell, you’re not allowed television and radios.”

  “If during a game I just happen to go to a restaurant that has those televisions hanging from the ceiling, or if there’s a game on the radio while I’m riding in my car …”

  “Isn’t that cheating?”

  He shrugged. “Sure, but overall I believe in the Plain ways. I can’t see giving up the Plain Mennonite faith just because I enjoy an occasional spectator sport.”

  “I guess having an area like that might help build a rapport with clients who aren’t Plain.”

  “You know, that’s a really good excuse.” His smile spoke of jest, and she knew his quiet, respectful, noncooperation ways were showing again. He interlaced his fingers, staring at his hands. “I would have told you about this secret love, but I didn’t want to scare you away by telling you too soon.”

  “Uh-huh. And does Dorcas know about this vice?”

  “She thinks I’ve given it up.”

  “I see. Afraid you’ll scare her off too?”

  “Nah, she—”

  “Women’s work.” Luke rounded the side of the house, carrying a tray of mugs with steam rising from them. “How do I always get roped into doing women’s work?”

  Matthew followed, carrying a huge bowl of popcorn, while Kathryn toted the napkins and paper plates. Mary was last, carrying spoons.

  The most genuine smile Hannah had seen yet revealed itself in Paul’s eyes and slowly edged his lips. Freedom to embrace life anew had taken place for him too. Closure between them mattered to him, and she knew it always would. She lifted a mug of hot chocolate from the tray.

  She’d stay as long tonight as her brother wanted her to. They’d all play cards, and she’d probably end up laughing until her sides hurt, but she longed to return to her life in Ohio: the birthing clinic, nursing school and clinical rotations, and the two children who needed the home life she craved to give them.

  And Martin. Her heart skipped a beat, and she could see him in her mind’s eye and feel inside her the warmth of who they were. Always. Always. Martin.

  Mist rose from the valley where the creek ran, and the new day’s sunlight skimmed the tops of the trees. Pulling her sweater around her a little tighter, Hannah leaned against her car, sipping a cup of coffee and waiting for Sarah to grab something from inside the house.

  The trees swayed in the morning air, bearing leaves from light yellows to deep golds, from bright reds to sharp maroons. The movement seemed to beg Hannah to linger and watch. She loved Owl’s Perch, always had. And now, with healing running through most of the relationships she’d once left behind, the beauty of the place strengthened her. Zabeth would be so pleased for her, and that brought even more comfort.

  In jeans and a sweater, Lissa played in the soft dirt near the edge of the garden. She seemed to love the feel and aroma of tilled soil as much as Hannah.

  Sarah tapped on an upstairs window, signaling that she’d be down in a minute. She barely looked like the young adult who less than a month ago had poured gasoline around her and threatened to strike a match. She’d needed medication to help, but it seemed to Hannah that, more than meds, she’d needed to find forgiveness and have a sense of power over her life.

  Without any doubt, Paul had done a great job of helping
her find much of what she needed. His ability to help Sarah seemed more connected to who he was than to his degree. Hannah knew little of psychologists as a whole, but this one used his education as a tool for offering insights and wisdom for living.

  Sarah still easily lapsed into talking like a baby and continued with some very odd behaviors, but she was making good progress.

  She bounded out the back door, carrying a package wrapped in brown paper with an arrangement of fall leaves on the top for a bow. “Here.” She held the gift toward Hannah.

  Tears welling in her eyes, Hannah accepted it. They’d come such a long way, and like a garden in spring, Sarah’s heart was being cultivated, making all they’d been through worthwhile. She removed the wrapping to find the “Past and Future” quilt. “Sarah, this was on loan to you. It can’t be given to me.”

  Sarah pouted. “He gave it to me.” It was a few seconds before she seemed to regain her thoughts. “Besides, I asked Mary. So listen up and hush up.” She cleared her throat. “You saw to it that the quilt was made from patches of cloth from family and friends as well as every Amish household in our community. We are a part of your past, and we’ll always be a part of your future. I want you to have it so you’ll always remember who you are.”

  In spite of the childlike voice her sister spoke with, it seemed to Hannah that she saw deeply. There were many days Hannah wasn’t at all sure who she was. Memories of her Amish childhood swirled like falling leaves. She slid her hand across the quilt. “Thank you. I’ll cherish it always.” She drew a sharp breath, trying not to cry.

  “Mary gave this to Paul to keep him warm while he waited for you to return.” She picked imaginary lint off the quilt.

  Wishing Sarah hadn’t reminded her about Paul waiting, Hannah simply nodded. It was frustrating and embarrassing that part of her wanted to know how long he’d waited. “I’m grateful you’re better, and it means a lot to know you’re doing well enough to want to give this to me.”

  Sarah gazed at the sky, growing distracted. “Before we started having trouble getting along, we used to lie in bed each night and talk. Remember?”