Sisters of the Quilt

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Paul sifted through some of the items in the box until he pulled out one beige paper, a letter from Global Servants. It had Paul Waddell and Hannah Lapp listed as the sponsors.

  Hannah closed her eyes, trying to absorb it all. He’d not only waited, but he’d remained faithful to the things they’d begun. Speechless, she returned to looking at the girl’s handiwork. The young girl had amazing talent for drawing and painting. Absolute giftedness. Hannah laid one aside and looked at another until she came to a card the girl had made. She’d drawn a beautiful picture of a home with yellow light streaming from the windows. It said:

  I love you.

  A-Yom

  “We’ll have children, Hannah. Maybe never our own, but this earth isn’t lacking for those who need someone to love them.”

  Hannah stood. “Am I dreaming?”

  Paul moved in close, staring into her eyes as if he was unsure too. “I keep thinking the same thing. It may take years of waking to find you near to convince me it’s all real.” He wound around his fingers the wisps of her curls that had broken free of their confines. “You’re here. It’s a gift that came with a high price. I’ll never forget that.”

  She couldn’t tell him she loved him, not yet, probably not until Martin was past being so angry with her and had moved on. But she didn’t have to. He got it. Just as Sarah had said, Paul saw her.

  He studied her. “When you said ‘too soon,’ you meant we can spend time together as friends but nothing too serious for now, right?”

  In everyway he understood her. “Yes.”

  “Good. This will be a holiday like no other.”

  Removing a loaf of bread from the oven, Hannah could feel Paul’s eyes on her. Laughter and voices gently roamed through Gram’s kitchen from the living room, where the group played board games. Friday nights seemed to bring a new tradition for Paul and her—dinner and games with friends.

  Luke and Mary were here with Amanda. Sarah had come with them. Matthew and Kathryn wandered in an hour ago. Unlike the gatherings with the band, Hannah connected here—even when the guests were Paul’s friends whom she barely knew. She glanced his way. With his shoulder resting against the doorframe, he watched her, saying everything she wanted to hear.

  Since Hannah had arrived two months ago, she’d fallen so deep for Paul her mind couldn’t comprehend it. The first few nights she was back, they’d stayed near the roaring fire here at Gram’s, talking until Hannah fell asleep on the couch. More than once she’d awakened to find Paul sitting in a chair, sipping coffee and watching her.

  She had hundreds of memories packed inside these past two months. She’d taken and passed her state board exams. But she’d missed the application deadline for entering nursing school this winter, so she and Paul were putting their free time to good use.

  In spite of the cold weather, they’d gone to the beach, and for the first time in her life she saw the ocean. They’d gone sledding with Matthew and Kathryn, spent time with their friends and family, and shared quiet evenings talking. They’d driven to what had once been his college campus and might become hers too. She’d enjoyed the state museum in Harrisburg so much they’d been three times already, and they’d also gone to City Island. They took a trip to Alliance’s train depot, her beloved cabin, and Dr. Lehman’s clinic. Paul had met all the women from the Tuesday quiltings. The women were beside themselves to learn she’d returned to the Plain sect, even if it wasn’t Old Order Amish. They’d spent time in old town Alliance, hoping to find Kendrick, the young man who’d kept her from freezing to death when she’d landed in Ohio nearly three years ago in the dead of winter. She’d been so busy trying to survive and to put the past behind her that she’d given little thought to Kendrick over the years. But Paul wanted to find him, to thank him and to see if there was anything they could do for him.

  Each outing caused the gaping hole of their time apart to close a little more, and now it seemed as thin as a hairline fracture. Paul had asked nothing of her emotionally—not for commitments, or plans, or words of love. But no one read her heart more than Paul, and he had to know she loved him completely. Out of respect for Martin, she’d kept herself in check and not kissed Paul, but her desire to marry him grew by the day.

  The first visit to his parents’ home started out awkwardly, but clearly she was welcomed by his dad, sister, and brother-in-law. His uncle Samuel came by just to meet her, and he’d more than made up for the hint of standoffishness that Paul’s mother, Hazel, gave off. By the end of the evening, his mother was warming up a bit, and Hannah was fairly confident they would eventually become friends on some level. Whatever vibes Hazel gave off, they were friendlier than what Paul was likely to ever receive from her Daed. But Paul and she were together, and aside from the ache harbored in her heart concerning Kevin and Lissa and the regret she held for the hurt she’d caused Martin, no one else’s likes or dislikes regarding this relationship mattered.

  As amazing and healing as the last two months with Paul had been, she wanted to know how Martin was doing. Kevin and Lissa called her from Laura’s or Martin’s cell regularly, and she shared in a few minutes of their lives each time. With Laura’s help, they e-mailed her photos and called to talk to her about them.

  Paul strolled into the kitchen. “What do you think about getting a rescued pup from Sarah after she’s done some training and she’s ready to put the first ones up for adoption?”

  Her cell phone rang, and she pulled it from her dress pocket. The caller ID said it was Martin’s phone. “It’s Kevin or Lissa.”

  Paul nodded. “Absolutely. Answer it.”

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me. Got a minute?”

  Martin sounded upbeat, and hope that he’d weathered the worst spread throughout her. “Sure. Give me a few seconds.” She hit the Mute button. “It’s Martin.”

  “You’ll want somewhere quiet.” Paul motioned to the back door and helped her slip into her coat.

  Walking across the back porch, she took the phone off mute and put it to her ear. Solid white lay across the fields, the night silent as new snow fell from the black sky. “I’m here.” Snow crunched under her feet as she went into the yard. She waited for him to speak, praying he’d forgiven her and was ready to embrace happiness again.

  “We’re gearing up here for a musical blowout. It’s a celebration because I received notice earlier today that I passed my engineering exams.”

  “Congratulations! Although I never doubted you would. Was Hawaii every bit as glorious as you’d hoped?”

  “It was even better.”

  “I’m glad you weren’t disappointed. Kevin and Lissa haven’t stopped talking about it yet.”

  Silence hung, and she waited.

  “I, uh, I get it, Hannah. I mean, I’m the one who ended things, and I understood even before that, but now all of it makes sense. I’d always banked that with enough time and gentle pressure, you’d become a perfect fit. When I talked you into moving out of the cabin or the dozens of other things I was always pushing you to do, my hope was to get you comfortable in my world.”

  She figured this was his way of telling her she was right to return to Paul and he was ready to move on. Relief eased its way through her, and tears blurred her vision.

  A knock on a door filtered through the line.

  “It’s open,” Martin said.

  Hannah couldn’t hear all the words being spoken to him, but it sounded like Amy Clarke’s voice, telling him where she’d be when he was off the phone.

  “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute. Listen, Hannah, Kevin and Lissa are asking a lot about seeing you. They’re off next Thursday and Friday. You could take them through the weekend too, unless you’re schedule isn’t free.”

  “Really?” Her resolve broke, and she sobbed.

  He had to be doing a lot better. Before he left for Hawaii, he wouldn’t even hint that he might let her see Kevin and Lissa again, but now, if they wanted to see her, he’d allow it. The plan would
need to fit around his schedule, which seemed more than fair, and exhilaration danced within her.

  “You know, if you could stop crying …”

  She wiped her tears, trying to contain her excitement and relief. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “I just figured you needed to know I’m fine.” He paused. “No, I’m better than fine now. I know we’re both right where we’re supposed to be.”

  As if boulders were being removed, guilt lifted, and she couldn’t find her voice.

  “Nothing meant more to Zabeth than keeping the Palmer family together as much as possible. She grew too weak and died before that happened, but you came in, and … well, you finished what she began, and now Kevin, Lissa, and I are a family. If it took falling for you for that to happen, I’d do it again.”

  “Thank you, Martin.”

  “Just give Laura a call next week, and she’ll meet you with the children at the cabin or the clinic or wherever. Okay?”

  “I’ll be grateful for this forever.”

  “Back at you. Bye.”

  Closing her eyes, she shut her phone. Like the snowfall around her, memories seemed to swirl and land gently in random places. As much as she grieved for the pain she’d caused Martin, she could never regret the privilege of being by Zabeth’s side—a dying, shunned woman, desperate to hold together whatever could be salvaged in the Palmer family.

  Maybe Martin was right; she’d helped change him, and because of that, he was firmly rooted in Kevin’s and Lissa’s lives.

  God was able to bring good out of tragedy, missteps, and even stupid mistakes. Gazing into the snowy dark sky, she trusted God more than ever. “Nevertheless.”

  Wanting to see Paul alone for a minute before joining the others, she opened her cell phone and called him.

  “Hey, you can’t win if you’re not in here to play.”

  “Meaning you’re losing for the both of us.”

  The back door opened, and Paul walked across the porch and into the yard. “Something like that, yeah.” With one look at her, a smile crossed his handsome face. He tucked his phone back into his pocket. “That was a good call.”

  She stretched her arms out and twirled around before she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, laughing.

  He held her so very gently with her feet dangling off the ground. “I love you, Hannah. Always have. Always will.”

  He set her feet on the ground, staring into her eyes. Leaning down, he brought his lips to hers, and the power of every once-forbidden hope and dream danced as a reality within her. He kissed across her cheek and down her neck.

  Her knees gave way a bit, and she backed away.

  “Hannah?”

  “I just need to sit.” She sank onto the cold snow. Tilting her head, she looked into his eyes. “Talk about sweeping a girl off her feet.”

  Clearly the reason for her needing to sit began to dawn on him, and he chuckled. “You had me worried for a minute. Are you sure—”

  “I’m sure.”

  Paul offered her a hand, but the gesture was more than a moment of help. Everything she had ever wanted or would ever want stood with open arms—just waiting for her. She slid into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him and resting the side of her face against his chest. “I love you, Paul.” Her voice cracked, and tears threatened. “I love you.”

  The warmth of waking with Paul’s arms around her caused gratefulness to work through her. The first rays of light waited just below the horizon to stretch across the land, dispelling the dark that filled every corner of the room. Enjoying the rumble of the attic fan as it drew in mixed fragrances through the opened window—fresh-cut hay, their vegetable garden, and hints of the patch of woods surrounding the creek—Hannah relished the start of a new day. Life itself stirred her, making her feel as if she were soaring over fields like an eagle. The feeling had become a permanent part of her as she watched Paul build this home during their engagement. The house sat on the ten acres of land that Gram gave them, but the porch, with its ceiling fan for summer and outdoor fireplace for winter, was their favorite spot. It overlooked the footbridge where he had proposed.

  The “Past and Future” quilt lay across the foot of their bed, waiting patiently for cold weather to arrive. Her Mennonite prayer Kapp rested on the nightstand beside her. Next to it sat the hand-carved box Paul had made for her, one that held years of letters from people she loved—Paul, Daed, Mamm, Lissa, and Kevin, even a rare note from Martin or Amy, telling her when and where they were traveling so she or Paul could make plans to pick the children up from Laura.

  The letters were a reminder that love didn’t have to be perfect when forgiveness was applied. That truth guided her through each part of life—even though her father had not yet allowed her in his home. Accepting her Daed for who he was kept hurt from stealing from her when he hadn’t attended her wedding. She found that same understanding was able to strengthen her when it came to dealing with difficult people from all walks of life.

  Her mother came to visit her on at least one nonchurch Sunday a month. Although Hannah saw her Daed here and there when moving about the community and he always spoke to her, she was more grateful that he wrote to her a few times each year and came by her clinic on occasion just to see her. He had come to their home to eat with Paul and her once, but the idea of his daughter having electrical and phone lines coming into her house worried him. In spite of his unbending beliefs, he tried to open his mind and heart to her. And she, in turn, tried to identify with him. The reality of forgiveness planted and growing in her daily life amazed her. She couldn’t claim to understand how it worked, but the freedom it brought was undeniable. And when she got it wrong—overreacted, underreacted, or flared with an incorrect response—forgiveness waited to be embraced.

  Running her fingers over the honorary mother’s ring that now hung on a necklace she hid under her Plain clothing during the day, Hannah could hardly believe the children were on the brink of becoming teens and that Martin and Amy would soon celebrate five years of marriage. The former Amy Clarke not only filled everything Martin had been looking for in Hannah, but she adored and respected him deeply, bringing a sense of well-being to him that he richly deserved. As much as it grieved Hannah, Faye had never returned, and Hannah doubted that she was still alive. Thankfully, Kevin and Lissa seemed to be doing well, gleaning life lessons from the two households—Palmer and Waddell—that loved them unconditionally.

  Zabeth’s cabin was a second home to Paul and her. During the school year Hannah worked for Dr. Lehman’s clinic one weekend a month, leading a quilting Q and A on Saturday. In the summer she worked at the clinic twice a month. Each time, Paul and she stayed at the cabin. Kevin and Lissa would often stay with them, and in the spring of each year, Paul helped them plant a garden. Kevin chose to grow only watermelons that he sold door to door in Martin’s neighborhood. Lissa never wanted to sell anything from her garden. She wanted her produce used for their meals, or she’d have Paul drive her to the local mission, where she could give the food away.

  Hannah arched her back ever so slightly, stretching just a little, but she felt Paul stir.

  He planted a kiss on her shoulder and rubbed across her rounded stomach. “Sleep, Lion-heart, it’s still dark.”

  But she couldn’t will herself back to sleep. Didn’t want to, really. The love that ran between them and the love they gave away to others kept life renewed and exciting. For six years Paul and she had contentedly accepted being without children, enjoying every part of the life they’d been blessed with. Always proud of her work and school accomplishments, Paul took satisfaction in their busy schedules, and they continually grew in finding pleasure in each other’s arms—unlike anything they’d expected. And now … she could feel their child moving within her.

  After attending the deliveries of so many babies, she was even more amazed by the miracle of what was taking place inside her. At twenty-seven years old and with her master’s in nursing, she was expecting their fir
st child in mid-December.

  Although she worked at the Plain Ways clinic just behind the Better Path, she spent much of her time going to Amish homes and visiting. She met resistance from some, especially the men, but she applied respect and forgiveness and continued to make headway talking with the families about women’s health issues.

  When it suited Paul, he’d come to the birthing clinic during the long nights and stay in the sleeping room with her. When they were off, they had treasured friends to enjoy—some Amish, some Plain Mennonite, and some Englischers.

  Hannah’s thoughts continued to roam. Thankfully for Mary’s health, she didn’t conceive too often. She and Luke had one more child thus far, a son. In the years since Matthew and Kathryn had married, they’d had three children. Kathryn loved organizing her household and working beside Matthew. They’d built a small home near the shops, and Kathryn brought more joy to Matthew than could be measured in a lifetime.

  Hannah believed Dorcas’s regret for what she’d done was real and her repentance complete, but the heartache of losing Paul still seemed to cling to her. The battle to keep Lyme disease from ravaging her body was a long one, taking years of medicine and physical therapy to regain her health. She was now overseas, doing missions.

  Gracie, Paul and Hannah’s Australian Shepherd, came to the side of the bed. Hannah scratched her head, thinking of all the dogs Sarah had trained and sold over the years. Sarah was still single, not yet trusting her stability enough to marry and have children. She remained on her medicine and in counseling. Moreover she trusted Paul’s and Hannah’s word against any lies her emotions or mind conjured up. In spite of her times of struggling with mental health issues, she continued on, being as productive as possible, sheltering rescued Australian Shepherds. The community had helped fence three acres surrounding Luke’s old place for her dogs, and she trained Aussies for all kinds of jobs—from herding sheep to herding Canada geese to helping farmers guard their crops from deer. She also trained dogs to become working companions for several physically handicapped children. Giving Gracie a final pat, Hannah said a quick prayer of thanks for Sarah. God continued to bring healing in her sister’s life and ways for Sarah to use her gifts to help others.