Sisters of the Quilt

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Feeling the familiar pull of her many worlds, she aimed not to let her voice share too much. “Yeah, but Martin forgot I was on call, so I hated to be gone the whole evening.” The music came to a stop, and she nodded to the other room. “Speaking of which, it sounds like they’re taking a break, so I’m going to let him know I’m here.” Hannah weaved her way through the crowd of mostly strangers until she met up with Martin. “Hi.”

  He smiled. “Well, hello. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Uh, yeah, it’s fancy all right.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Laura’s doing. She put up the lights before anyone arrived today.” Placing his hand on her back, he directed her toward the kitchen. “But it does look good.”

  Hannah noticed a petite woman with shoulder-length blond hair watching them. The woman stepped forward, wearing shiny high heels, a gently molded, knee-length skirt, and matching cashmere sweater. It was the type of outfit Martin would like to see Hannah wearing, modest with a twist of alluring. But it wasn’t modest by Plain standards, and she didn’t think she could ever dress in that manner on a regular basis. Wearing fancy clothes was hard enough on very special occasions, although she’d have no problem wearing something alluring in the privacy of their home once they were married and the children were down for the night.

  Martin paused and gestured toward the blond woman. “Hannah, I’d like you to meet Amy Clarke. Amy, this is Hannah Lawson.”

  Hannah shook her hand. “Hi, Amy, it’s nice to finally meet you. You own the landscape architect business in the same building as Martin, right?”

  “Yes, my mom owned it originally, but after I graduated from college, she trained me and then took an early retirement. Martin and I have worked together for a lot of years.” She tilted her head and looked at Martin with obvious admiration. “I’ve been interested in meeting you. Since you’ve been on the scene, he’s easier to convince when he’s wrong and he refuses to work too much.”

  “Don’t give her too much credit, Aim. She’s known to bring out the worst in me too.”

  Amy shifted her stance. “So, Hannah, are you counting the days until vacation?”

  Martin ran his hand up and down Hannah’s back. “She graduates the Friday night before we leave. She can’t help but tally each day.”

  Amy laughed.

  Martin opened his mouth to say something else, but the phone in Hannah’s pocket rang loudly.

  She slid it from her pocket. “Excuse me.”

  Martin rolled his eyes. “Speaking of bringing out the worst in me …”

  She smiled at him before she pressed the green button. She listened as Dr. Lehman’s answering service told her to come in right away. She said she’d be there as soon as possible and then ended the call. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  Martin sighed. “Of course you have to leave, because working for no money while disrupting our lives is just right up your ever-altruistic alley.”

  The sting of embarrassment was complete. If his aim was to make her pay for having to work today, he’d accomplished it.

  “Amy, it was nice to meet you, but I think Martin’s right. I just brought out the worst in him. If you’ll excuse us for a minute, please.”

  She took Martin by the hand. They stopped by the closet, and she grabbed her coat before they went out the front door. She closed the door behind them, confident her cheeks were still red with anger. “I’m not the one who forgot I was on call. It’s only reasonable for me to work this holiday weekend if I’m off during Christmas. And if you’d shared your extravagant plans concerning today with me, I’d have reminded you about my schedule.” She jerked her coat on.

  “You say the word ‘extravagant’ like this party is something to endure.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and moved to stand at the top of the porch steps. “You know, it’d be really nice if just once you did more than tolerate what I have to offer. Just once, Hannah.”

  “And could that be followed up by you not making plans first and telling me second?”

  Martin said nothing, and she hated that they’d had so much trouble communicating lately. They’d once shared everything, and when they first started dating … well, actually, they argued and almost broke up before the very first date, but then they talked things out, and she saw a deeper part of who he was. They became closer that night. That’s what they needed—to talk like they used to.

  She forced a smile, aching with the things that tore at them. Since the night he’d gone to the hospital with her three weeks ago and had seen her being more than civil with Paul, there had been more stress between them. She’d blown it and done damage, but she would not accept defeat. They’d get past this as well as the news Dr. Lehman had shared, but it wasn’t the right time to tell Martin about that.

  He kissed her forehead. “Look, we’ve stumbled on a gap that needs a bridge. You’re right. I am guilty of making decisions first and telling you second. It’s a habit that needs breaking now that I’m part of being a couple. But if I didn’t push, you’d still be living in that cabin, avoiding the lifestyle of the professional and modern world around you. Are you ever going to be ready to let go of the Plain ways and enjoy what’s right in front of you?” He kissed her cheek. “Come on, phone girl, make a choice for us.”

  Hannah slid her arms around him, remembering their first kiss. With one connection of their lips, he’d swept loneliness from her, an isolation that was colder than the Arctic and just as secluded. She loved him more than he probably realized, but was the next great movie, blowout party, gaming station, or extravagant vacation so very important?

  She kissed his cheek before taking a step back. “Look, I’ve gotta run—should have left fifteen minutes ago. Let’s talk about this later.” She didn’t wait for another kiss as she hurried down the steps. “Bye.”

  “Drive safe.” He waited until she was sliding behind the wheel to wave, and then he went inside.

  Restless beyond his own tolerance, Paul stood in the backyard of his parents’ home, splitting firewood. The day before Thanksgiving was always difficult. The sky hung low with gray clouds, matching his mood. Regardless of how much life had separated Hannah and him, each year they’d had this one day to visit from early morn to almost sunset. The day had demanded little but provided time for talking and playing games while baking foods at Gram’s in preparation for Thanksgiving.

  With the Better Path closed, and in need of a diversion, he’d come to Maryland to spend time with his family. It wasn’t helping. He grabbed a two-foot-long, unsplit log. After setting the round upright on the tree stump, he took the ax in hand and slammed it into the wood, splitting the log from end to end. It seemed that a distraction from Hannah didn’t exist. Anywhere.

  Over and over again he chopped, tossed, and grabbed another piece. When she’d first arrived back in Owl’s Perch and he’d thought she was married, he convinced himself that he had waited for her out of guilt. Even if that’d been true, after being around her for just a few days, he was captivated again. Now everything about Hannah beckoned him, and he felt miserably cantankerous. With everything they’d resolved between them, only one thing kept them apart—her being in love with someone else.

  He slung another piece of split wood onto the growing pile, and a thought of Dorcas pushed its way forward in his mind. He felt so bad for her. Not only was he falling deeper in love with Hannah every time he saw her, but his tolerance for Dorcas was becoming thinner. In an effort to be reasonably up-front with her, he told her Hannah wasn’t married, and for his effort, Dorcas’s health took a turn for the worse.

  Mutilating another piece of wood with the ax gave no release from the turmoil inside him. He’d wanted to tell Dorcas there was no way he could court her. Ever. For both their sakes, he wished he was at least attracted to her. After two and a half years, he’d come close to having a few feelings for her, but that was before Hannah drove back into his life. Because of Dorcas’s health, he didn’t dare tell her how he re
ally felt, so she continued to wait in hopes of a true courtship.

  “Paul?” His sister spoke loudly.

  He glanced up, surprised Carol was standing near him, looking perplexed.

  She stomped the ground and wrapped her black wool coat tighter around her. “You don’t even have on sleeves.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Only because you’ve been out for hours working like a sled dog. What gives?”

  “Nothing.”

  She didn’t budge.

  Paul motioned toward the house. “Space would be really nice, okay?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Dorcas is finally diagnosed. Lyme disease isn’t easy to cure, but she’s not dying and stands a good chance of eventually having a full recovery.”

  Guilt smothered him. “How’s she feeling today?”

  “She’s inside, arrived about an hour ago. Why don’t you come sit with her?”

  He shook his head. “Not now.”

  Looking resigned, Carol folded her arms tightly across her waist. “She’s relieved to have a diagnosis that isn’t terminal. Scared at how difficult it’s going to be to recover. In pain from what the illness has done to her body.”

  He set an unsplit round on the stump. “I’ll come in and see her after a while.” If Dorcas felt decent enough today, she’d have come outside to be with him. Regardless of the reason, the space was welcome. It wasn’t her fault that his attraction to her barely registered on any scale during their best days together.

  “If I guess at what’s eating you, will you nod if I hit it?”

  Swinging the ax, he landed the cutting edge on the top of the round, splitting it partially. “Leave it alone, Carol. Just go inside and pretend that if you ignore how I really feel, it’ll all go away. That’s what you and Mom and Dad have done for years, isn’t it?”

  Carol stared at the ground. “Yes, we have, but it hasn’t changed the truth, and I’m ready to admit that.” She lifted her eyes to him. “Tell me what to do.”

  Paul set the ax to the side. “It’s too late. There’s nothing to do. Hasn’t been since the night I left Hannah.”

  “Oh, Paul.” She sat on the huge stump he’d been using to split the wood. “Is that what’s eating you? Are you still in love with her after all this time?”

  Hearing the sincerity in her voice, he sensed his restlessness ease a notch. “Sounds crazy, I know.”

  “Dorcas said Hannah’s been in and out of Owl’s Perch and that she’s not married. So now what?”

  “Nothing. She’s in love with someone else. The man has a young niece and nephew they’re raising. Life keeps moving.”

  “Paul, maybe you’re better—”

  “Don’t.” He pointed at her. “Don’t say that maybe I’m better off. It’s not true, and if you knew her, you’d know that too.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe this is happening to our family again. First, Uncle Samuel living all his days unmarried because of one girl, and now you. Why do you have to care for someone outside your reach?”

  “But Hannah wasn’t out of reach for me, and I wasn’t for her. We had family things to work through, and we could have, if only …”

  If only.

  The list that could finish that phrase was so long he couldn’t make himself admit even half of it. If only he’d followed her home in his truck each time, the attack would never have happened. If only he’d listened to her that night, she’d never have left Owl’s Perch without him. If only he’d received a call from her, he’d have left everything and gone to her. If only … she wasn’t in love with another man.

  It was enough to make him think he might spontaneously combust.

  Carol touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Sorry I ever argued with you about her. Sorry Dorcas is sick and you can’t get free to look for someone better suited to you.”

  His sister’s empathy surprised him completely.

  He decided to tell her some of his quieter thoughts. “I’m considering doing volunteer work with our service this coming summer, maybe even something overseas. I just need to make things right with Dorcas first.”

  “Maybe you’ll find someone through missions and service, although when Dorcas can tolerate hearing such a plan is anybody’s guess.”

  He nodded. “I know, but it’s also wrong not to tell her.”

  She sighed. “It’s my fault that Dorcas has been invited to hang around all the time. Between my inviting her and her being the daughter of Mom’s best friend, we’ve thrown you two together. I was just sure you’d come to care for her if given time. I never realized it might take a millennium.”

  “I won’t spend my life pining for what could have been with Hannah. It’s just that being with her again and seeing her with Martin will take awhile to shake free of. I … I’m …” He shook his head, deciding not to tell her he had concerns whether Martin was the best person for Hannah. His snippet view of the man did nothing to boost his confidence in Martin Palmer. “Anyway, after Dorcas is better, I’ll make my plans clear, and then I’ll … I’ll move on.”

  That was the only thing that made sense. His phone rang, startling his sister.

  “Sorry.” He dusted off his hands. “I started carrying one of the clinic’s phones …” Since the night Hannah had to call too many places trying to reach him.

  “Hello?”

  “Listen, I’m on my way back to you.”

  Warm goose bumps ran up and down his body as Hannah spoke the words.

  She drew a breath. “I got caught at Martin’s, and now I’m hung up in traffic, some sort of horrific, heart-wrenching mess that I have to break free of before I can get moving, but I’ll be there. Assure Elsie of that, even if she delivers before I arrive. How far apart are her contractions now?”

  “Hannah?” He knew who it was and wondered why he’d made it sound like a question.

  The line went completely silent. “Paul?” She laughed, a warm, beautiful, robust laugh—the kind that haunted his dreams and woke him with a longing to hold her. “You’re not in labor, are you?”

  “I’ve chopped over a half cord of wood so far today. That’s definitely labor.”

  “Well, I’m not catching each piece of wood, bathing it, and wrapping it in a blanket. You can bank on that one, bud.”

  “Bud?” he teased.

  “It’s a word.”

  Realizing they’d said the phrase ‘it’s a word’ to each other while playing Scrabble on numerous occasions over the years, he ached anew for the friendship they’d lost. He decided to keep this conversation going as long as possible, much as he had all those board games they used to play. “Yeah, but it’s not worth any points since it’s a name.”

  “Wouldn’t matter. You’d find a way to rip off any points I came up with anyway.”

  She’d answered him without hesitating, as if the memories were never far from her either. Was he imagining that? “I never cheated.”

  “Ah, but did you play fair?”

  The cool air whipped through his short-sleeved shirt, and he felt the coldness for the first time today. “Define ‘fair.’ ”

  “Ewww, I tend to forget how good you are at wordplay,” she scoffed mockingly. “You win this round. I only have four numbers stored in my cell phone, and I was only half watching while scrolling for Dr. Lehman’s number.”

  With emotions pouring into him at the speed of Niagara Falls, he sat down on the stump Carol had abandoned. “Only half watching what: the phone or the road while driving?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “I’m now a regular statistic—young women in their cars on their cell phones while driving—but I did not cause the accident.”

  “Says the girl who’s on her cell phone, laughing and chatting feverishly.”

  She broke into laughter again. “Shut up, Waddell.”

  “You don’t sound the least bit displeased about being an Englischer statistic.”

  “There are things I like about the Englischer life.�
��

  Wanting more time, Paul challenged her. “Name them, all of them.”

  His sister held up a coat for him that she’d apparently retrieved from the house. Holding it out so he could slide one arm in, she offered a concerned smile. He shifted the phone to his other hand and finished putting on the jacket.

  “Thanks.” He mouthed the word to her. “Hellooooo?” he called to Hannah.

  “Paul?”

  His name came out broken, and he knew they were losing the connection. Then the line went silent. He closed the phone and paced the yard, thoughts coming at him faster than he could process. Listen, I’m on my way back to you.

  Carol cocked her head. “She called you?”

  “By accident. She was trying to reach Dr. Lehman at the birthing clinic where she works.”

  “But you immediately began a really friendly conversation with her.” Carol sighed, looking unsure of what was taking place. “How are you ever going to move on if you keep having contact?”

  “Well, so much for deciding to support me.”

  “Just don’t set yourself up for another hard fall, okay?”

  His phone rang, and he jerked it open, taking a second to glance at the caller ID. Her name wasn’t logged in this phone’s memory, but he knew her number by heart. “We lost the connection.”

  “Alliance is hilly with dips. Plus we have the Allegheny Mountains between us.”

  That wasn’t all they had between them, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. In spite of a niggling sensation that he was involved in something closer to an affair than a friendship, he wanted more. “So, can you tell me that list now?”

  He had no intention of asking why she’d called him again or of turning the conversation into something that would make her back off. It was their day, the day before Thanksgiving, and she’d called—by accident—but still his Lion-heart was on the other end of the phone.

  “Paul, I didn’t mean to call you the first time, and I … I called back because … well, follow-through is important, but I should let you go.”