“Where’s the rest of the family?” Caleb asked. “I figured we’d find everyone crowded around the twins.”
“Abby’s out in the kitchen fixing supper,” Fannie said. “Mary Ann and Nancy are helping her.”
“Shortly after we got home, I sent Matthew out to the fields to check on Jake, Norman, and Samuel,” Papa spoke up. “They’ve been handling things on their own for the last couple of days, what with me traipsin’ back and forth to the hospital.”
“Are you managing okay at the store on your own?” Fannie asked, giving Caleb a look of concern.
He nodded. “Matthew’s still comin’ in, and he’s agreed to take care of things in the quilt shop so Abby can stay here to help you.”
Fannie sighed. “There’s so much to be done, what with me not able to do a lot yet. I wouldn’t know what to do without Abby’s help, because caring for two bopplin means we’ll need every available pair of hands.”
“I understand,” Naomi said. “I’ve got my hands full from sunup to sunset trying to keep Sarah out of mischief while I care for little Susan.”
“We’re thankful for the days when Nancy can help us,” Caleb interjected, “but if she’s needed here, we can probably call on my mamm.”
“I think Abby’s got things under control,” Papa said. “She’s real organized and seems willing to do whatever needs done.”
A stab of remorse shot through Naomi. She felt as if Papa’s remark had been directed at her. Many times after Mama’s death, when Naomi had taken over household chores and helped at the store, Papa had accused her of not doing things right.
I’m just overly sensitive right now, she reminded herself. Have been ever since Susan was born. I need to keep my eyes on God and quit worrying about what others say and do.
“Abby’s a good daughter,” Fannie put in. “She’s always had a servant’s heart, and she’s puttin’ her wedding on hold because of me.”
“What?” Naomi’s eyebrows lifted. “You mean she’s not getting married in November?”
“Well, she says—”
“Did I hear someone mention my name?” Abby asked, stepping into the room.
All eyes seemed to be focused on Abby as she took a seat on the arm of the sofa, close to Naomi. “We’re having an early supper tonight,” she said. “Since Mom just got home from the hospital, I’m sure she’s tired and would like to go upstairs as soon as we’re done eating.” Abby touched Naomi’s arm. “You’re welcome to stay and eat with us.”
“Oh, no, we wouldn’t think of imposing. We just wanted to drop by and meet the twins, but we’ll be on our way in a few minutes,” Naomi replied.
“That’s right,” Caleb agreed. “As soon as I got home from the store, I loaded my brood in the buggy and headed straight here. We were all anxious to see the little miracle bopplin.”
Fannie nodded. “That’s just what they are, too. After going without more children for so many years, I never expected to give birth at my age, let alone to identical twin boys.”
“What were you talking about when I came into the room?” Abby asked, redirecting their conversation.
“I was telling everyone how you’re planning to stay awhile longer, and that you’ve decided to postpone your wedding a few more months,” her mother replied.
Abby nodded. “There’s no way I could return to Ohio knowing my mamm and little brothers need me. I wrote Lester a letter yesterday, explaining things and saying we can be married sometime in January.” She drew in a deep breath and exhaled it quickly. “I miss Lester, of course, but it’s nice to be with all of you during this exciting time of so many bopplin being born.”
“Isn’t your brother’s wife due to have a baby soon?” Abraham asked.
“Lena’s due date is shortly after Mom’s was supposed to be, so she’s got another three or four weeks to go.”
Mom sighed and reached up to straighten her kapp, which was slightly askew. “I wish there was some way I could be there for Lena, but I’ll have my hands full right here for some time, I’m afraid.”
“Which is exactly why I’m going to stick around until you’re feeling stronger and can manage on your own,” Abby asserted.
“Such a fine daughter I raised,” Mom said with a smile. “I only hope I do half as well with these two boys.”
“You’re already a good mamm, and you’ll do fine by our little fellows.” Abraham gave her knee a pat. “The best thing that ever happened to this family was when you came along.”
Mom blushed and swatted at his hand. “Oh, go on with ya now. I’m no saint, so don’t make me out to be one.”
Abraham chortled. “You’re the next thing to it, Fannie Mae.”
Abby glanced at Naomi and noticed her furrowed brows. Was she hurt by her daed’s comments, maybe thinking of her own mamm and wondering if he loved his second wife better than the first?
I must have a talk with Naomi soon, Abby decided. It wouldn’t be good for hard feelings to tear this family apart now that things have been going so well.
When Abby awoke on Sunday morning, her bed sheets were soaked with perspiration and so was she. She’d had that terrible dream about a fire again, and it had left her feeling physically and emotionally drained. What could it mean, and why had she had it so many times over the past several months?
Her hands trembled as she fumbled to undo the buttons on her nightgown. Would it help to tell someone about the dream? Maybe Mom could soothe her fears, the way she had when Abby was a little girl and had been frightened about something. Jah, as soon as I get dressed I’ll have a talk with Mom.
A short time later, Abby found her mother in front of the kitchen sink, filling the teakettle with water. “You look tired, daughter. Didn’t ya sleep well?”
Abby yawned, stretched, and lifted her choring apron from a wall peg. “I had a nightmare and didn’t feel the least bit rested when I woke up.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe it was somethin’ you ate last night that caused the bad dream.”
Abby shook her head. “I’ve been plagued by this same night terror many times, and I don’t understand it, Mom.”
“How come you’ve never mentioned it before?”
“I didn’t want to bother you, and I figured it would go away.”
Her mother pulled out a chair at the table and motioned for Abby to do the same. “Would you like to tell me about it?”
Abby nodded and flopped into the chair beside Mom. “In the dream I’m asleep in my bed, but something wakes me up. When I open my eyes, there’s smoke and flames, and I can’t breathe.” She inhaled and blew out her air in a quick puff. “I hear a kitten’s cry, and I call for someone to help me save it, but nobody ever responds.”
Mom’s eyebrows furrowed. “Does the same thing happen each time in your dream?”
“Jah, only sometimes I’m covering my head with the quilt on my bed.”
“Hmm. . .”
“I’ve read in The Budget some articles about fires, and a few months back Lester and I witnessed a fire at the cheese place near my quilt shop.” Abby pursed her lips. “Do you think the dream could have been a foreshadowing of what was to come? And if so, then why am I still having the horrible nightmare?”
Mom placed her hand on Abby’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Dreams are often a combination of things we’ve heard or something we may have read about, but I think it’s rare that they’d be a warning of what was going to happen in the future.”
Abby groaned. “I wish there were something I could do to keep from having that dream. It’s so frightening, and I wake up feeling as if something terrible is about to happen.”
“I suggest that you pray about it, Abby.” Mom gave her a hug. “Ask God to take away the dream and the fear you feel whenever it happens.” She pushed back her chair. “And I’ll be praying, too, dear one.”
Sitting beside Beth on a pew that was three rows from the back of the sanctuary, Linda marveled at how relaxed she felt on this Sunday m
orning. Her son and Beth’s three boys were in junior church, and she knew Jimmy was happy and comfortable, too.
“My sermon today is entitled ‘Life’s Disappointments,’” Rev. Deming began as he stepped up to the pulpit. “We all encounter disappointments in life, such as marital discord, trouble with our children, parents, coworkers, neighbors, or friends. People are human, and everyone has certain frailties. People often let us down—even those we are closest to.”
Linda thought about Jim and how he seemed to take pleasure in disappointing her. Jimmy wasn’t a disappointment, though. Adopting him was the best thing they had ever done. She glanced over at Beth and her husband, Eric. They seem to be so happy. If Jim would just agree to get counseling, we might discover the kind of happiness they obviously share.
“I’m reading from the book of Psalms, chapter 147, verse 3, New International Version,” the reverend continued. “ ‘He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.’” He looked out at the congregation. “Are you brokenhearted? Do you have wounds that won’t heal? Cast your cares on Jesus and give your troubles to Him.”
Tears clouded Linda’s vision, and she blinked several times, hoping to ward them off. But it was no use. She felt moisture on her cheeks and reached into her purse for a tissue to wipe the tears away.
Beth’s hand closed around Linda’s. “Are you okay?”
Linda could only nod in reply. Her throat felt clogged, like she had eaten a piece of dry bread and had nothing to wash it down. She knew if she uttered one word it would come out in a strangled sob.
As Rev. Deming continued his sermon, Linda felt as if every word, every verse of scripture was meant for her. For the first time in her life she realized how much she really needed God.
“Some of you have had a personal experience with Christ,” the pastor said. “For you, it’s as simple as recommitting your life to the Lord and letting Him take control of your circumstances.” He paused and leaned slightly forward.
Linda’s body went rigid, and her stomach churned like a blender on full speed. Is he looking at me? Does he know my needs, my pain?
“Some of you may never have made a commitment to Christ. You may be wondering what it takes to become a believer.” Rev. Deming turned in his Bible to another passage. “Romans 3:23 says, ‘For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.’”
Linda squeezed her eyes shut. She had never consciously admitted it, but she knew she was a sinner. She’d been devious in her relationship with Jim, often scheming to get her way. She had argued, pouted, and martyred herself in the hope of making him give in to her demands. Her thoughts were often negative, and she’d spent hours pondering ways to get even. Sometimes, when she and Jim argued, she shouted and called him names.
“Christ died on the cross for you and for me. His shed blood is the atonement for our sins, and the only way we can come to the Father is through His Son, Jesus.” The pastor stepped down from the pulpit and stood behind the wooden altar in front of the communion table. “As our organist plays ‘Just as I Am,’ I would like to invite anyone who wants to be free of their burdens and find forgiveness for their sins to kneel at the altar.”
The music began, and the congregation sang softly, “Just as I am, without one plea. . .but that Thy blood was shed for me. . .and that Thou bidd’st me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come! I come!”
“All you need to do is step out of your pew and walk down the aisle,” Rev. Deming said in a soft, pleading voice. “Jesus is waiting for you.”
Linda heard Beth’s harmonious voice beside her, singing, “Just as I am and waiting not. . .to rid my soul of one dark blot. . .to Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God, I come! I come!”
The words on the hymnal blurred, and Linda’s hands shook so badly she was afraid she might drop the book. She couldn’t sing. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Her soul ached to kneel at the altar and ask God to forgive her sins. She wanted desperately to let Jesus take control of her life. But could she go forward in front of all these people? What would they think of her? Would they look down their noses or cast judgment?
“Just as I am,” the song continued, “tho’ tossed about. . . with many a conflict, many a doubt. . .fightings and fears within, without, O Lamb of God, I come! I come!”
Come to Me, Linda. Come to Me just as you are. The voice in Linda’s head gave her the confidence she needed. On shaky legs she made her way slowly down the aisle. She’d been living in fear for too long. Her life was full of conflict and doubts. It was time to find rest for her weary soul. It was time to meet Jesus.
Linda hummed as she stirred a kettle of homemade chicken gravy. The meal she prepared would be a surprise for Jim. She and Jimmy had been home from church about an hour, and Jim was still lounging in bed. She hoped the tantalizing aroma of fried chicken and biscuits would rouse him. She’d thought about sending Jimmy up to get his father but didn’t want to chance him snapping at the boy. Besides, Jimmy was playing happily in the backyard, and there was no point in disturbing him.
Linda was anxious to share her altar experience with Jim. Since she had confessed her sins and accepted Christ as her Savior, she felt like a new person.
If only Jim would find the Lord, I’m sure we could get our marriage back on track. Maybe I should speak to Rev. Deming about counseling with us. If we started going to church as a family, I know we’d be happier.
Jim sauntered into the room, halting Linda’s thoughts. “What’s cookin’? I could smell something all the way upstairs.”
She turned from the stove and offered him a smile. “I’ve made fried chicken, buttermilk biscuits, mashed potatoes, and your favorite gravy.”
“What’s the occasion? Most Sundays you usually fix something simple and quick.”
Linda turned down the stove burner and moved to his side. “I’m celebrating, Jim, and I wanted to fix your favorite meal in honor of the new me.”
Jim looked her up and down. “Same hairstyle. Same amount of makeup.” He squinted. “Is that a new outfit you’re wearing?”
She laughed and smoothed the skirt of her knee-length navy blue dress. “No, it’s not new, but I am.”
“I hate it when you talk in circles.” He pushed past her and headed for the refrigerator. “Is there any beer left?”
Linda slumped and turned back to the stove. Jim didn’t even want to know how or why she had changed. She could hear him rummaging around in the refrigerator, and she fought the urge to remind him that he sometimes drank too much and certainly shouldn’t be drinking so early in the day.
The refrigerator door slammed shut. “There’s no beer,” he grumbled. “Guess I’ll have to run to the store for more.”
She whirled around. “Now?”
Jim dragged his fingers through the back of his thick, dark hair. Hair that she used to enjoy running her own fingers through. “Any objections?” he snarled.
Linda knew they would only argue if she mentioned how uneasy she felt whenever he drank. “Could you wait until after dinner to go to the store?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. How soon will it be ready?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll hang around ’til after we eat.” Jim gave her an odd look. “Say, there is something different about you today. Are you sure you didn’t change your makeup or buy a new dress?”
She moved to his side and touched his arm, glad when he didn’t recoil. “When I said I was new, I meant I’ve found Christ.”
Jim’s eyebrows lifted, and his mouth turned up at the corners. “I didn’t realize He was missing.”
Linda stiffened and fought the urge to say something catty in return. “No, Jim, Christ isn’t missing. He’s very much alive— right here.” She placed her hand against her chest.
He shook his head. “Have you lost it, or what?”
“No, I’ve found it. I’ve found the Lord Jesus as my personal Savior.”
“What’s He saving you from? I didn’t
know you were lost, Linda.”
“I knelt at the altar this morning and asked Jesus to forgive my sins.”
He stared at her, and his expression was stony. “Your sins, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“Have you done something bad, Linda?”
Was he mocking her? Linda closed her eyes, praying for the right words. When she opened them a few seconds later, her courage was renewed. “During church today, the pastor spoke about disappointments in life.”
Jim grunted. “He’s right about that. There’s a ton of ’em!”
“Rev. Deming said we’re all faced with disappointments, but God can help us through them if we know Him personally.”
He held up his hand. “That’s enough, Linda. If I’d wanted a sermon today, I would have gone to church or turned on the TV and listened to one of those boring televangelists.”
Tears clouded Linda’s vision as her gaze dropped to the floor. Help me, Lord. Help me make him understand.
Jim pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table. “Cut out the ‘poor little Linda’ routine. Your tears and pathetic looks don’t work on me anymore.”
“I’m not trying to get my way on anything. I just wanted to share my newfound faith, and I’d hoped you might consider going to church with me and Jimmy next week.”
Jim’s fist came down hard on the table, scattering several napkins to the floor and clattering the silverware Linda had placed on the table earlier. “If you need religion in order to get through the disappointments in life, then go to church all you want. Just don’t expect me to follow like an obedient puppy.”
With a heavy heart, Linda shuffled back to the stove. She’d been foolish to believe that because she had changed, Jim might consider her request to attend church.
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