After class, Sarah purchased a book which contained the story of the Underground Railroad and had examples of all the blocks that were reportedly used as secret messages. She had decided to begin making extra blocks at home so she could enlarge the quilt to a queen size for Charles. She would need to ask Ruth to help her with the calculations.
Sarah hurried home, eager to call Charles and see if he was available to come hang the design board. He hadn’t seen the blocks she was working on, but she might put them on the board and see his reaction. He, of course, wouldn’t know they were for him. She felt sure he would like them once she told him some of the stories. He was somewhat of a history buff. She also wanted to let him know that Andy was securely back in prison. She hoped he would have some ideas about what they could do to help find Caitlyn.
* * *
The young girl sat on the bench in the Hamilton bus station with her knees pulled up to her chin. She wore jeans and a pink tee-shirt with words printed on the front. The way she was sitting, the words weren’t visible.
She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were red and swollen. The man watching her thought she had been crying. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes soiled. She looked straight ahead, not acknowledging the presence of the people around her.
After a while, the man moved and sat beside her. He spoke to her gently. “Are you okay, young lady?” She didn’t answer.
He waited awhile and again attempted to speak with her. “I’ve been watching you and wondering if you’re lost or alone. Do you need help?”
The girl was young, but not naive. She didn’t trust the man. She didn’t trust most men. She straightened up, picked up her duffle bag, and walked across the noisy room. She entered the ladies room, sat down on a wooden chair someone had placed near the door and waited for the man to leave. Her bus wasn’t due for several hours. She would stay here for a while.
She had a few dollars, maybe forty after paying for the ticket. That would last her for a few days if she could find a shelter. She wasn’t sure if the police were looking for her, but she thought it was unlikely.
She didn’t run away; her father threw her out. Or actually the man she used to think was her father. Now he said he isn’t her father. It made sense to her. He never acted like a father and she never loved him.
Wouldn’t you just naturally love your father? she wondered.
The girl worried about getting picked up by the police even if the man who was no longer her father didn’t report her missing. She was fourteen, almost fifteen, but she had a small, undeveloped build and looked much younger.
She didn’t want to get turned over to social services. Several kids in her school lived in foster homes and they hated it. But then, it might not be too bad. I’d have a place to live and food, and I could go to school.
She really hadn’t thought it through when she left. He said, “Pack and get out,” so she did. As far as she knew, there weren’t any relatives except some woman in Middletown. Her mother took her there a few times. The girl didn’t know who she was; her mother called her aunt something. I guess that would make her my great aunt.
She and her mother were never close. Her mother was sick most mornings, sleeping in until afternoon. The young girl got herself to school every day and got good grades, although no one ever asked to see them. She missed her mother anyway.
A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away almost violently. “No crying!” She told herself aloud. No one was in the room to hear her.
Chapter 16
“I’m here,” Charles called from the front porch. As he stood at the screen door, he felt the soft warm breeze on his bare arms. I’m actually happy. At this moment, standing on this spot, I’m totally happy. It had been many years since Charles was able to feel happiness. After his retirement and his wife’s death, followed by his stroke and many months of recuperation, he had lost the feeling of joy. He smiled, and again called through the screen door, “I’m here, Sarah.”
“Come on back,” Sarah called. “I’m in the sewing room.”
Charles wiped his feet on the mat outside the screen door and again on the rug at the entryway. Sarah kept a very clean and orderly home. The cushions on her couch and matching chair were upholstered in a soft brown. She had a beautiful flowery quilt over the back of the couch and a matching pillow on the chair.
Her furniture, which he had thought was Mission style, was actually Arts and Crafts from the turn of the century, as Sarah had explained. Although it looked new to him, she said it had belonged to her grandmother who grew up in Kentucky. The wood was stained a warm, soft brown, almost the color of the cushions. The only contrast came from the rose carpet and the colorful floral quilt. It was a warm, comfortable room. Sarah had fresh flowers on the coffee table along with a pile of quilt books and magazines.
He walked straight through the kitchen and eating area toward the sewing room at the back of the house. On his way past Sarah’s room, he stopped to look. The colors were soft greens and browns with a touch of rose. He noticed there was no quilt on her bed. He was surprised she hadn’t made one yet.
“What’s taking you so long?” Sarah called cheerfully from the sewing room. “It’s only about twenty steps from the front door to the sewing room.” She laughed as he entered the room looking embarrassed.
“Just sightseeing,” he explained. “Your home is so warm and cozy.”
“That’s what a home should be,” she responded with a smile. She presented her cheek for a kiss, but he reached beyond her cheek and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. She smiled again and gave him a mischievous look. He wondered what that look meant, but knew he would never figure out women and their many expressions. He just smiled back and shrugged.
“So. Where’s my project?” Charles asked.
She pulled out a large piece of foam board with cotton batting neatly attached to it. There was about one inch which wrapped around to the back.
“How did you get this attached so smoothly?”
“The miracle of spray adhesive,” Sarah responded, “and yes, I did it in the backyard so I wouldn’t breathe the fumes,” she added, anticipating his objection.
“How did you know I was going to say that?” How is it that she can anticipate what I’m going to say before I even think it? I’m not sure what she is saying even after she says it? Women are a mystery! Charles had been married for forty years to the same woman, his high school sweetheart. He hadn’t dated since she died. He didn’t like to think of himself as naïve, but that’s exactly what he was.
They found a place to hang the design board so that Sarah could place blocks on it and back away from it to get the full effect. “So let me show you some blocks,” Sarah said excitedly after the board was safely hung. She grabbed her quilter’s tote and carefully removed her six blocks. She lined them up on the design board leaving an inch or so between each one. “When they go into the quilt,” Sarah explained, “there will be fabric between each one, probably a one or two inch strip to separate them.
“I love these,” Charles said, examining them closely. “The fabric looks old, like you see in antique quilts in the museum.”
“These fabrics are reproductions of fabrics used in the 1800s,” Sarah explained. She went on to tell Charles about the possible use of quilts during the civil war, and, pulling one block off the board at a time, she told the related stories that Ruth had told the class.”
“This is fascinating!” Charles exclaimed. “Are there other blocks?”
“Yes, come look at this book.” She grabbed her new Quilts from the 1800s book and, together, they moved into the kitchen. She pulled a pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and grabbed a few cookies from the cookie jar. Barney, of course, stood by his own cookie jar looking pitiful, so she grabbed a few for him too. Barney took his treats to his corner while Sarah joined Charles at the table. They spent the next hour going through the book, both enjoying the artistry and the history. Sarah was pleased to see how intereste
d he was in the stories and the blocks. He will love his quilt!
“Are you making this for your bed?” Charles asked.
“This one is definitely a bed quilt,” she answered vaguely, hoping he didn’t pursue the subject.
“Let’s take Barney for a walk,” he said suddenly. “Just look out there at your garden! I’ll bet the park is beautiful right now.”
“Great idea,” she responded, glad that the topic was changed. “How about a walk, Barney?” He jumped up, ran in circles around them, finally grabbing his leash from the hook and bringing it to her. As she reached for it, he backed away and stood in front of Charles instead. “Well, I guess I’ve been replaced,” she said, teasing the two of them.
As they walked, Sarah asked Charles if he had any ideas about looking for Caitlyn.
“I’ve been thinking,” Charles responded, “that I might drive over to Hamilton and talk to the Department. I have some friends over there who haven’t retired yet. Maybe I could offer to help out with this case.”
“Oh, Charles,” Sarah exclaimed with her hands on her cheeks in astonishment. “That would be wonderful. With all your experience and your personal interest in the case, you’d be a great help to them.”
“Well, sometimes being personally involved isn’t always a good thing, but I might be able to offer some needed legwork,” he responded.
By this time, they were more than half-way to town and Charles suggested they get ice cream. “Good idea,” Sarah said, enthusiastically. “Let’s go to Persnickety. Bea’s ice cream is delicious and I’d love to see her.” As they approached the shop, a young girl was walking away from the gazebo carrying a duffle bag.
“I don’t know who she is,” Bea said as she scooped their ice cream. “She sat out there for an hour or so yesterday. I went out and asked her if she would like ice cream, but she said no and left. I was surprised to see her there when I opened the shop this morning, but I decided not to intrude.”
“She looked so young and fragile. I wonder where she belongs,” Sarah said thoughtfully, then dug into her ice cream with gusto.
Chapter 17
As Ruth drove toward Ohio and to the home she had walked away from so many years before, she thought how angry her father had been and how hurt her mother was when she brought Nathan home to meet them. Nathan was born in Pennsylvania and lived among the Amish there and was well aware of what marrying Ruth would mean. He was not Amish.
Ruth met Nathan in art school. Although Ruth was an excellent quilter, the art school in Columbus was offering a special program in fabric art. Ruth had seen a poster advertising the program which showed quilts that were so beautiful, they brought tears to her eyes. “They touched my heart, Mama,” she had said pleadingly. “I want to go learn.”
Her father had been adamantly opposed to the idea. “You have chores right here,” he grumbled. Her mother understood how she felt; she, too, was a creative quilter. After many family discussions, her father reluctantly agreed to allow her to travel to Columbus for one term. He made it very clear he was not pleased about this and refused to pay for any of it. Ruth used the money she had been saving from her vegetable stand and was able to get a small scholarship.
As it turned out, Ruth returned home six months later married to an English boy. Her father believed in a strict interpretation of Amish tradition and refused to accept the marriage. He had turned them out of the house and told Ruth she was no longer family.
It was late afternoon when Ruth turned off the Interstate. She thought about the phone call from her brother, Jacob, telling her about their father’s illness. He said it was very serious. She loved her father and hoped to see him, if only to say goodbye. She had never been angry with him; she understood the Amish way. It had been her life for seventeen years.
Driving down the dirt road, Ruth could see the house in the distance. It looked freshly painted. Behind the house stood the silo and the barns. She didn’t remember the second barn. She hadn’t been home for more than twenty years. Things change.
Ruth turned slowing into the rutted path beside the house. Looking past the house, she could see her mother’s Bow Tie quilt hanging on the line, gently swaying in time with the light breeze. How many nights I have slept under that quilt! I must not cry. For a moment, she wished Katie were with her.
Her hand was trembling as she knocked on the screen door. The front door was open and the familiar smell of stew wafted toward her. She fought the tears that were gathering behind her eyes. “Mama,” she muttered, too softly for anyone to hear.
A handsome young man came to the door. “Hello,” he greeted with a smile. When Ruth didn’t respond, he added kindly, “Can we help you?”
“I’m Ruth,” was all she could say without crying.
“Ruth,” the young man said excitedly. “Ruth!” He opened the screen door and threw his arms around her. “I’m Jacob. I’m so glad you came.”
“Jacob?” Ruth repeated joyfully. He was only six years old when she left. Her mother had seven children and Ruth had taken on most of the responsibility for Jacob and for the youngest girl, Anna. She and Jacob hugged and allowed their tears to flow.
“How old are you now?” Ruth asked. “About twenty-five?”
“Twenty-eight exactly,” he said proudly. “Yesterday was my birthday. I live here with my wife, Rebecca. We’ve taken care of Mama since her stroke.”
Her stroke? Ruth had no idea her mother had been ill. She’d missed so much.
“How is papa?” Ruth asked tentatively. “Is he here?”
“No. He’s in the hospital. We got him there, fighting the whole way, and now he’s fighting to get back home. I think he’ll come back tomorrow.” He dropped his eyes and added sadly, “He knows he’s dying and he wants to die at home.” After a pause, he added, “It’ll be hard on Mama for him to be here, but it’s probably for the best.”
“And Mama…how is she?”
“Since her stroke, she hasn’t been herself. She can’t get around and her memory is bad. Rebecca is wonderful with her and has taken over all the chores. You’ll love Rebecca. She has been a Godsend.”
“I wish I’d known about Mama’s stroke,” Ruth said, wondering why they called her now, but not then.
“We tried,” Jacob said. “Papa wouldn’t allow it. I’m sorry.”
“I understand,” she responded warmly. “Do you think Mama will see me today?”
“Papa wouldn’t want you to come into the house and Mama would never go against him. But I think she can make it to the porch, if she will. I’ll go ask.” He gave her one last hug and hurried into the house.
Ruth sat in the wicker chair and waited. Finally Jacob returned with her mother, looking old and frail, hanging onto his arm for support. Tears ran down her cheeks when she saw Ruth. Ruth immediately got up and Jacob guided their mother to the chair. Ruth fell to her knees in front of her mother and they held each other’s hands. Both wept.
“I love you, Mama,” she said softly.
Her mother nodded and smiled through her tears.
Rebecca came out to meet Ruth and offered to bring coffee and pastries out on the porch. Jacob brought three more chairs from the kitchen. The four sat outside for several hours, weeping at first, then talking and ultimately laughing as they recalled their shared past.
Then, in a more serious tone, Ruth asked, “Is there any way I can see Papa?”
“No, honey,” her mother responded, but using the German dialect spoken by the Amish. “You know we can’t do that. We won’t go against his wishes, especially now. I’m sorry.”
“I understand,” Ruth said, following her mother’s lead and using her childhood language. She squeezed her mother’s hand and said, “Mama, I want you to know that I’m very happy. We’re all three happy. We own a quilt shop in Middletown and have many friends. Katie works with me; in fact, today she’s teaching a class on how to make the Flying Geese quilt block.”
Her mother laughed. “I remember teaching you
how to make that block when you were seven years old. You were a good quilter even then. And you started basting my quilts when you were only five! Your running stitch was perfect!”
“My running stitch?” Ruth laughed. “That’s what I named my shop! The Running Stitch.” Her mother, who’d come outside looking so old and frail, was now bright and gleaming as she laughed. Oh, how I miss my family.
The four continued to talk until dusk. Abruptly, her mother asked, “How is little Katie? Can she walk yet?” Ruth was puzzled by the question, but Jacob tapped her on the shoulder and shook his head. Suddenly, she realized her mother had become confused. Later, as she was getting into her car, Jacob would explain that she gets worse at night. “The doctor called it ‘Sundowners,’” he said. “Sometimes she doesn’t even know Rebecca and me.”
Finally, Ruth answered her mother’s question by saying, “Katie is one of the reasons I came, Mama. She wants to know her family.”
Her mother looked sad but the confusion seemed to have passed. “You know we can’t do that, Ruth. Not while papa is alive.”
“I know,” Ruth said sadly. “I know.” The obvious remained unspoken.
Her mother hesitated, as if she were deciding whether or not to speak. Finally, she took a deep breath and very coherently said, “Your sister Anna has left the Amish way. She married a young English boy she met during her rumspringa. She lives in…” she hesitated, but then added confidently, “… Williams County. She lives in Williams County, not far from here, with the boy’s family. We don’t see her anymore, of course, but you could.” She searched Ruth’s eyes and added, “I think that would be good for both of you.”
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