The Quilter's Daughter

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  “You missin’ her company or all the help she gave you?” Edna asked with a wink.

  Fannie chuckled. “A little of both. I’ve been praying every day, asking the Lord to heal Abby’s heart and send her home with a joy for living.”

  “I’m sure she’ll return when she feels ready, and I know the Lord wants only the best for Abby.”

  Fannie opened her mouth to reply, but the piercing wail of a baby’s cry halted her words. She sighed. “Guess one of the boys is awake and wantin’ to be fed. He probably needs to be diapered, too.” She pushed her chair aside and stood. “I’d better tend to him before he gets the other brother howlin’ like crazy.”

  “Want me to come along? I can change one babe’s windel while you nurse the other.”

  “Jah, sure. That would be appreciated. We can visit while Titus and Timothy take turns eating.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Edna rose from her seat. “I never seem to get in enough visiting, Cousin.”

  As Abby headed down the lane toward the mailbox, she reflected on the church service she’d gone to yesterday with Elizabeth. It was much the same as the ones she attended in Ohio and Pennsylvania, but there were fewer people, since this was a smaller community of Amish. The house where they met was much different, too, being made of logs and set among so many trees. The people had been friendly during the light meal afterwards, and Abby had been pleased to spend a little time visiting with Myra Lehman, who reminded her a bit of Rachel.

  I wonder how my dear friend from Ohio is doing these days, Abby mused. I haven’t heard from her in some time. Of course, I haven’t been good about keeping in contact, either. Truth is, I haven’t been much of a friend to anyone since Lester died.

  Abby thoughts returned to yesterday’s church service, and a verse of scripture one of the ministers had quoted popped into her head, from Isaiah, chapter 43, verse 2. “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.” Abby grimaced. I feel as though I’ve been through the fire, but I’ve been burned so badly my wounds will never heal.

  Sometimes, when Abby was alone in her room at night, she would close her eyes and try to imagine what it must have been like for Lester during the last moments of his life. In her mind’s eye she would put herself in the scene, hugging him and being consumed by the flames together. The thought of dying in the arms of the man she loved seemed more pleasant than living a life without him.

  “Lester should not have died alone,” she moaned. “He shouldn’t have perished on account of me.”

  Abby’s thoughts went to the colorful quilt Elizabeth said she had purchased at a thrift shop in the state of Washington. A year ago I thought I’d be making plenty of baby quilts in the days ahead. Some would be for Lester and my kinner, and others would be given to family members who were blessed with children. She drew in a deep breath, determined to focus on something else. As she neared the mailbox, she heard the flutter of birds in the trees nearby and caught sight of a clump of yellow crocus. Spring was almost here, and this used to be her favorite time of year. Since Lester died, no time was her favorite. In fact, she barely noticed the changing seasons at all.

  She pulled the mailbox flap open. I will not give in to tears. Crying won’t change a thing, and neither will dwelling on the past. She thumbed quickly through the stack of mail and noticed a letter from her mother.

  Abby leaned against a tree and tore open the letter. She missed Mom, her little brothers, and all of Abraham’s family. Even so, she wasn’t ready to return to Pennsylvania just yet.

  Focusing on the letter in her hand, Abby read it silently.

  Dear Abby,

  I hope this finds you well and enjoying your visit with Elizabeth. Edna made it safely home and said she wasn’t the least bit afraid. Can you imagine my outgoing, silly cousin afraid of anything? It wonders me that she doesn’t travel all over the place, the way some folks do when their family is grown.

  She’s been busy caring for her granddaughters who have the chicken pox and her daughter who is down with the flu, and I think she enjoys being needed.

  I’m sorry to say that Bishop Swartley passed away a few weeks ago, so there’s been another funeral in our community. You’ll never believe who the lot fell on to take his place—Jacob Weaver. Abraham’s been sayin’ for years that he thought Jacob would make a good bishop, and now it’s actually happened. Jacob seems fine with the idea, but I’m not sure how his wife and kinner are taking all of this. Guess it will be quite an adjustment for everyone in the family.

  Mary Ann and I dropped by the store the other day. (Jah, Abraham kept the boys by himself for a few hours.) When I was there, Naomi mentioned the auction that would be held in the Rexford Amish community in June. I’m not sure if you’ll still be there by then, but even if you’re not, I thought it would be good if I sent some quilts to auction off. If you’d like, I could box up the ones Lester rescued from your quilt shop in Berlin and send those, too.

  Tears welled up in Abby’s eyes and distorted her vision. Would it help to get rid of those quilts? Maybe putting them up for auction was a good idea. It would be like burying her past once and for all. She swiped a hand across her damp cheeks and sniffed. “Guess I’ll head back to the house and answer Mom’s letter.”

  “Do you really think we should be leaving so soon after your father’s surgery?” Linda asked Jim as they drove away from Millersburg in their rental car.

  “We’ve been here a week, Linda, and you heard what the doctor said. Dad’s recovering nicely.”

  “I know, but—”

  “We need to get home. I talked to my foreman yesterday, and he’s lined up another set of apartments for us to paint.”

  She sighed. “I was hoping we could have a little vacation time before we head back. Maybe spend a day or two touring the area and seeing some of the Amish again.”

  Jim pointed out the front window. “There’s one now. See the Amish buggy ahead of us?”

  From his seat in the back of the car, Jimmy piped up, “What’s an Amish buggy, Daddy?”

  “The Amish are a group of Plain people living much like the pioneers used to,” Linda said, before Jim could respond. “They drive carriages pulled by horses, and they don’t use electricity in their homes.”

  As they drove around the horse and buggy, Linda glanced over her shoulder to gauge her son’s reaction. Jimmy had his nose pressed against the window, and when a young boy at the rear of the buggy waved, Jimmy giggled.

  “We haven’t been anywhere but at the hospital and your parents’ house since we came here, Jim. Couldn’t we at least take time to stop in Berlin so I can go into that little shop where we bought the quilt for our bed?” Linda pleaded.

  “No.”

  “Why not? We don’t have to be at the airport for several hours, and I’d like to see about buying a couple of quilted throw pillows or maybe a wall hanging.” When Jim made no reply, she added, “I promise it will only take a few minutes.”

  “I suppose if I don’t stop, I’ll have to hear about it all the way home,” he grumbled.

  Linda smiled. “Thank you, honey.”

  A short time later, they pulled into the town of Berlin. Jim found a parking place near a drugstore and informed Linda that she could walk to the quilt shop while he went inside to get some aspirin.

  “I’ll take Jimmy with me,” she said.

  Jim shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

  Jimmy scrambled out of the backseat and hopped onto the sidewalk, and Linda took hold of his hand. “We’ll meet you back here in half an hour,” she called to Jim.

  “Don’t be late.” He sauntered up the walk toward the drugstore, rubbing the back of his neck as he went.

  “How come Daddy’s so cranky?” Jimmy asked.

  “I think he’s got a stiff neck, and I’m sure he’s worried about Grandpa,” she replied. />
  “Is Grandpa gonna be okay?”

  Linda gently squeezed his hand. “The doctor said if he does everything he’s supposed to do, he should be fine.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Yes, so are we.”

  As they reached the end of the block, Linda halted. She thought Fannie’s Quilt Shop was on this corner, just across the street, but it wasn’t there. All she saw was a vacant spot next to another store. “That’s odd.”

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

  “Nothing, Jimmy. I think maybe I’m on the wrong street.” Linda looked to the left, then back to the right. Even though it had been several years since they’d been here, many things looked familiar. Where is that quilt shop?

  A middle-aged woman stepped out of the gift shop next to the vacant lot, and Linda walked up to her. “Excuse me; I’m looking for someone who’s familiar with this area who could tell me where Fannie’s Quilt Shop is located. Are you from around here?”

  “I’m from New Philadelphia, but I live close enough to shop here often, and I’m well acquainted with many of the local stores. Fannie’s was right there,” the woman said, motioning to the empty lot. “The shop burned to the ground right before Thanksgiving.” She clucked her tongue. “Such a shame it was, too. All but a few of the quilts were lost, and a young Amish man died trying to rescue the rest.”

  Linda sucked in her breath. “Oh, that’s so sad. What about Fannie, the woman who owned the shop? Was she inside when it caught fire?”

  The woman shook her head. “From what I’ve been told, Fannie moved to Pennsylvania some time ago. Her daughter, Abby, took over the quilt shop, but she was away helping her mother, who’d given birth to twins.”

  “I bought a quilt from Fannie several years ago, and I was hoping to buy a couple of pillows.” Linda stared at the empty lot with a feeling of regret. “I wish she was around so I could offer my condolences.”

  “Actually, it’s Abby who’s to be pitied. She and the young Amishman were engaged to be married, so the loss of her store was devastating for more than one reason.”

  Tears welled up in Linda’s eyes as she considered how Fannie’s daughter must have felt when her boyfriend died trying to save her quilts. She thought about Jim and wondered if he would do anything that heroic on her behalf. Not that I’d want him to die for me. It would just be nice to know that he loved me that much.

  “I guess we’d better head back to the car, Jimmy,” Linda said, shaking her thoughts aside. She glanced down, and panic gripped her like a vise. Jimmy was gone.

  Linda looked up and down the street, hoping for some sign of Jimmy, but the only children she saw were two small Amish boys standing beside a black buggy parked up the street a ways. She cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed, “Jimmy! Jimmy, where are you?”

  Nothing. No sign of her son anywhere.

  Where could he have gone? He was here a minute ago, standing right beside me while I spoke with that woman coming out of the gift shop.

  Linda’s heart thumped fiercely, and she placed both hands on her chest while drawing in a deep breath. What if someone has kidnapped my boy? I should never have let go of his hand or taken my eyes off him for even a second. What am I going to tell Jim? She breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm her nerves. Think, Linda, think. Don’t panic. Maybe Jimmy walked back to the car and is with his daddy right now.

  She whirled around and dashed up the sidewalk.

  Jim was just coming out of the drugstore when he spotted Linda running toward him. Jimmy wasn’t with her, and he figured the boy had already gotten into the car.

  As Linda drew closer, he noticed that her cheeks were pink and several strands of blond hair had come loose from her ponytail.

  “Jimmy’s missing,” she panted. “I called and called but he didn’t answer.”

  “What? He can’t be missing, Linda. He was with you.”

  She let out a deep moan. “I know that, but when I got to where Fannie’s Quilt Shop used to be and realized it wasn’t there anymore, I asked a woman coming out of a gift shop about it, and—”

  Jim held up one hand. “Slow down. Just tell me what happened with Jimmy.”

  “I’m trying to.” Linda blinked and swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “Jimmy was standing beside me when I started talking to the woman about the fire that destroyed the quilt shop, and when I looked down, he was gone.”

  “He’s probably in there.” Jim motioned to their rental car several yards away.

  “How could that be? You locked the car before you went into the drugstore, remember?”

  Jim’s heart began to pound, matching the escalating throb he had felt in his head for the last hour. “Jimmy couldn’t have gone far, Linda.” He tried to keep his voice calm, even though he felt like he could jump right out of his skin. “Maybe Jimmy saw something in one of the store windows and went inside to check it out.”

  “Oh, I hope that’s the case.”

  “You search the stores on this side, and I’ll look in the ones over there,” he said, motioning across the street. “Let’s meet back here in twenty minutes.”

  “What if we still can’t find him?” Linda grabbed Jim’s arm and squeezed it so tight he felt her fingernails dig into his skin.

  “Then we’ll look on the next block, and the next, and the next, until we do find him.”

  Her chin quivered. “Maybe we should call the police.”

  “No. Absolutely not. He hasn’t been missing long enough for that.”

  She sniffled. “We’d better start looking then.”

  Jim bolted across the street, fear gnawing at his stomach. As much as he hated to admit it, there was a possibility that Jimmy had been kidnapped. Truthfully, he knew how easily it could be done.

  A cold chill spiraled up Jim’s spine. Am I being punished for taking Jimmy from his Amish family? Is this how they felt when they discovered he was missing? He shook his head and darted into the first store. No, I did that family a favor. They had too many kids and no mother. Linda wanted a baby, and I gave her one. Besides, we’ve given Jimmy a good home, and through an ad in The Budget I notified his Amish family that he was okay. Reason, mixed with guilt and gut-wrenching fear, threatened to suffocate him. I wish I knew how to pray. He lifted his gaze toward the ceiling. Dear God, if You’re up there, please help me find my boy.

  Half an hour later, Jim returned to their vehicle, without Jimmy. His hands trembled as panic swelled in his chest and left him short of breath.

  A few minutes later, Linda showed up, but Jimmy wasn’t with her, either. “I didn’t see him in any of the stores, and the people I asked said they hadn’t seen a little boy matching Jimmy’s description,” she said tearfully. “Oh, Jim, what are we going to do?”

  “Let’s move to the next block.” It was the only thing Jim could think to do, short of calling the police. And that would only be done as a last resort. He grabbed Linda’s hand and they’d just started up the street, when he halted.

  “What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?”

  “Look!” Jim pointed to an Amish buggy parked on the other side of the street. Three little boys had their heads sticking out the back opening. Two wore straw hats, and one child, who sported a Dutch-bob, wore no hat at all.

  “Jimmy!” Linda hollered. “Oh, Jim, he must have been playing with those Amish boys the whole time.”

  Jim could only nod, as words stuck in his throat. Relief turned his muscles to jelly. Their son was one of the children wearing a straw hat, and if he hadn’t been able to see Jimmy’s yellow sweatshirt, Jim would have sworn the kid was actually Amish.

  He is Amish, his conscience reminded him. As quickly as the thought came, he dashed it away.

  Linda raced across the street, with Jim on her heels. She rushed to the open buggy and leaned inside. “Jimmy! Oh, I’m so glad to see you, honey.”

  Before Jimmy could respond, Jim shook his finger in the child’s face and shouted, “What do you think yo
u’re doing? We’ve been searching everywhere for you. Don’t you know how scared we were when we couldn’t find you?”

  Jimmy’s dark eyes filled with tears. “I just wanted to play with these boys, Daddy. They’re Amish. Can ya tell?”

  Jim blew out his breath with an exasperated groan. “Take that hat off and get out of the buggy right now!”

  “You don’t have to be so harsh,” Linda said, reaching inside to take Jimmy’s hand. “Come on, sweetie. You need to come with us now.”

  Jimmy removed the straw hat and handed it to the towheaded Amish child. “Here ya go. Thanks for lettin’ me play in your buggy.”

  The two Amish boys waved and said something in Pennsylvania Dutch, while Jim lifted his son to the ground.

  “You scared me when you disappeared,” Linda said, leaning down and stroking Jimmy’s cheek. “Please don’t ever do that again.”

  “We need to get to the airport.” Jim glanced at his watch. “Or we’re going to miss our plane.”

  As they walked back to their car, Linda glanced over her shoulder. “Those two little Amish boys are sure cute, aren’t they, Jim?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “If it weren’t for Jimmy’s yellow sweatshirt and short hair, he would have looked like he was one of them, don’t you think?”

  Jim merely shrugged and kept on walking. There was no way he would admit to Linda that he’d thought the same thing. And he certainly wasn’t about to tell her that the boy they’d supposedly adopted from the state of Maryland was actually an Amish child whose real family lived in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

  Abby took a seat at the kitchen table, prepared to write Mom a letter. When she’d returned from the mailbox, she had spoken with Elizabeth about her mamm’s request to send some of her quilts for the auction in June. Abby also mentioned that she would like to auction off the remaining quilts from her shop in Ohio and said she hoped it might help her put the past behind her. Elizabeth agreed that it was a good idea. Now Abby needed to let Mom know so she could set the wheels in motion.