The Christmas Quilt (Quilts of Love Series)

by Vannetta Chapman

  Adam nodded, but he still felt as if he were walking around half-awake. Was this all a bad dream? Would it soon be over? “All right. I’ll be ready to go as soon as I look after the animals and—”

  “Consider it done,” David said. “I’ll also post a note on your barn door for your customers, telling them you’ll be in touch about their engine repairs.”

  With a groan, Adam thought of the shelves of work waiting for him.

  “It will keep.” Samuel seemed able to read his mind. “Go with Belinda. I’ll ride over to your parents’ farm to update them on all that has happened.”

  “Danki.” The single word seemed inadequate, but what else was there to say?

  He climbed into Belinda’s little car, and stared out the window as they sped away. Soon his dirt lane turned to blacktop and blacktop turned to freeway. He’d never enjoyed riding in automobiles, even when he was on his rumspringa, though perhaps those months were when he first realized he had a knack for working on small engines.

  Machines fascinated him—parts and how they operated as a whole, especially when they were taken care of properly. But automobiles? No. The pace of travelling in them had always been too fast, and the way the cars’ windows shut out all of the smells and sounds seemed wrong. He missed those things. They grounded him when he went to other places like someone else’s home or the schoolhouse or town.

  This morning was different. This morning he wanted to urge Belinda to drive faster.

  And the fact he couldn’t hear the sounds of the small towns they passed, or smell the scents from the restaurants or farms, those things didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was catching up with the ambulance, finding his way to the hospital, and hearing what the doctor had to say.

  They could finish with administering their medicines, and then he’d take his wife home. Less than six hours had passed since he found Leah on the floor of the bathroom, but he was more than ready for this trial to be over.

  Annie hadn’t stepped into a hospital since the day she rushed out of the front doors of Mercy, the day she’d received a call her father had been in a buggy accident. It was hard to fathom that three years had passed. The time had flown!

  As she walked into Lewistown Hospital, keeping pace beside Leah’s stretcher, the familiar sound of monitor beeps, soft-soled shoes on linoleum floors, and nurses talking to patients showered her like the snowflakes that had begun falling again outside.

  One of the paramedics, Stanley, pushed Leah through the double doors at the end of the hall and a nurse stepped in front of Annie, blocking her way. A few years older than Annie, she had glossy black hair flowing past her shoulders, pinned back away from her face, and a no-nonsense attitude. “I’m sorry, miss. Family has to wait outside, at least until we have her admitted.”

  “Oh. Yes, but you see, I’m a nurse.”

  To give her credit, Nurse Gabriella—Annie could read her nametag now—raised an eyebrow but didn’t so much as question her or show any other indication of softening on the regulations. “I’m proud to hear it, dear. Our waiting room is back that way. Someone will be out to see you as soon as your—”

  “Schweschder.” The word came out softly as tears stung her eyes for the first time since hearing Samuel mention Leah’s name.

  “As soon as your sister is settled.”

  Annie reversed directions and walked slowly back into the waiting room. Samuel’s phone felt like a stone in her apron pocket. She could call him, but what would she say? Leah’s condition had remained the same during the twenty-five-minute ride. She expected Adam and Belinda would arrive any time. Perhaps it would be best to wait.

  The phone was for emergencies, and this wasn’t one—at least not at the moment.

  The clock on the wall mocked her, its hands moving so slowly she thought it might be broken. Another patient arrived—a man with his arm wrapped in an old shirt, blood soaking through the cotton. Stanley walked back outside, back to his ambulance. Annie sat in the plastic chair and waited.

  During her time as a nurse, the one thing she hadn’t done was spend much time in the visitor’s room. If she had her—

  “Oh my goodness!” Jumping up, she hurried toward the emergency room doors that led back into the parking area. The first set of doors swished open and the cold air did more than any mug of coffee to waken her. She never made it outside though, as Stanley was returning once again through the second set of doors. Older, medium height, with skin as dark as the night, his smile immediately put her worries to rest—the smile and the quilting bag he held up in his right hand.

  “Did you forget something, Nurse Annie?”

  “Danki, Stanley. I may need that since it looks as if I’ve been banished to the waiting room.”

  Stanley actually laughed. “No worries. You know the drill. Once they have Leah transferred to a bed and confirm she’s stable, they’ll allow family members back.”

  Annie pulled in a deep breath as she accepted the bag filled with her quilting supplies. “Ya, you’re right. I do know that. It was the same where I worked in Philadelphia, but rules are easy to forget when it’s your loved one behind the emergency room doors.”

  “Don’t I know it. My wife was back there a year ago. I was none too happy about waiting on this side.”

  Studying him, Annie realized how drama worked on your emotions. Normally she was sensitive to other people, but when she was in the middle of her own emergency, she’d immediately forgotten that other people weren’t there only to serve her. It was easy to overlook people she came in contact with—yet they had families, problems, and worries the same as she did. “How is your wife now?”

  “Good. She has to watch her cholesterol, but the docs gave her a stent and fixed her right up.”

  “Wunderbaar.”

  Stanley’s radio squawked and he reached to turn it down. “Best get out there or my partner is going to come looking for me. I’ll be praying for your sister.”

  “Danki.”

  Annie carried her quilt bag over to the waiting area. There wasn’t much she could do with it yet. She had managed to finish her sample square. She pulled it out and stared at it—Overall Sam. She’d chosen dark blue fabric for his pants, green for his shirt, and the traditional black for his hat. In a word, he was adorable.

  Was one of the babes Leah carried a boy?

  Would he one day work beside her brother Adam, tilling the land, even learning to take apart small mechanical engines?

  Annie ran her fingers over the stitching, closed her eyes, and began to pray. She prayed for the doctors who were looking over Leah’s charts, for the nurses who were checking her IV, running her vitals, and making her comfortable. She prayed for the babies within her womb—for the two of them though she didn’t know if they were boys or girls. She prayed for Leah, that she could remain at peace. She prayed for Adam as well, and was in the midst of asking God to give her wisdom and strength when she heard voices.

  “I believe she’s asleep.”

  “Nein. She’s prayed that way—with her eyes squeezed shut—since she was a kind.” Adam tumbled into the chair beside her.

  Belinda sat across from her, wearing a smile, snow covering the top of her coat. “Been waiting out here long?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think so . . .” Annie glanced up at the clock on the wall, surprised to see twenty minutes had passed. “Less than half an hour. I tried to go back, but they wouldn’t let me.”

  “Lewistown has strict rules. Some hospitals, not so much. Since several of my patients have been transferred here over the years, I might be able to find out something.” Belinda stood and brushed at the snow on her coat, then strode past the information desk and through the double doors.

  “I like her more all the time,” Adam admitted.

  “Is that so?”

  “Ya. I expected her to yak, yak, yak all the way here, but for an Englischer she’s remarkably quiet.”

  “Adam, that’s a terrible stereotype.”
<
br />   “Would it have been better to say for a woman she’s remarkably quiet?”

  “Nein. You’re tired, cranky, and worried.”

  “I am.” He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, head resting on his hands. He’d taken the time to dress properly and had on clothes so similar to the sample square she was holding that Annie nearly started laughing. Overall Sam indeed. Overall Adam!

  If all of this could end well, she’d rename the boy on the quilt.

  Belinda pushed through the doors. “Leah has been admitted. The doctor is with her now and would like to see you, Adam.”

  Adam glanced up, a look of confusion coloring his features.

  “Go, Adam.” Annie prodded him with her foot.

  “Ya. Of course.” He stood, but didn’t move.

  “Through the doors,” Belinda said. “I’ll show you the way.”

  Adam glanced back at her, and Annie felt something in her heart twist. She wanted to go with him, wanted to take his hand and follow him back into Leah’s room.

  But this moment was between Adam and Leah and the doctors. There would be enough time for her to help later. For now, she would stay in the waiting room, holding the material for the quilt she had yet to make, and praying for Leah and her unborn children.

  11

  The hospital gown felt foreign against Leah’s skin and skimpy—especially the back portion where there was a distinct draft! She was relieved when the nurse helped her into the bed and pulled the covers up over her. At least they’d allowed her to keep her prayer kapp on. Annie had helped her fasten it over her long blonde hair before the paramedics had arrived at their home. The braid and bun were a mess, but her head was covered. There would be time to re-comb it all later.

  Worrying about such a thing might seem trivial to some people, but Leah had never been out in public with her hair uncovered. She had enough to think about right now without feeling self-conscious about her hair. It wasn’t so much that she feared it would be a sin. She was certain God would understand.

  No, it was more a feeling she’d left much of her old life behind when she’d been lifted into the ambulance. The prayer covering was a small symbol of who she was and all she had embraced when she joined the church—it helped her retain her balance and identity. Silly, maybe, but at this moment she needed to keep as much of her old life as possible with her.

  Nurse Gabriella was adjusting the second bag of IV fluid—the one with the medicine—and practically clucking like a mother hen when Adam walked in with the doctor.

  “How are you feeling?” Worry marked Adam’s face like age lines on the old men who sat around watching the kinner play baseball. She marveled how the last twenty-four hours had brought them together, almost as close as when they were first married.

  “Hot and a little nauseous.”

  “The pains—”

  “They’ve stopped, Adam. The medicines they’re giving to me, they are working very well.”

  “That’s gut, then. We did the right thing to come.” He waited next to her bed, his hand touching her shoulder, and Leah was suddenly sure they’d done the right thing. She’d never been inside an Englisch hospital before, but it wasn’t so frightening with Adam standing by her side.

  Doctor Kentlee had walked in with Adam, and he stood now at the end of her bed, studying her chart. It wasn’t written on paper the way Samuel kept records. Instead, her information seemed to be kept on some sort of computer board. There was no doubt it was her chart though, for his gaze moved from the monitors, to her, then back to the tablet.

  Handing it to Nurse Gabriella, he looked directly at Leah. “The magnesium we are giving you is what stopped the contractions.”

  “Ya. The nurse explained it to me. It makes me a little sick, but that is better than the pains.”

  “Magnesium can also cause you to be flushed and even tired.” He was older and had no hair on top of his head. The light from the morning sun shone through the windows lining one side of the room. The sun’s rays made the top of his head somewhat shiny. It was difficult to be afraid of a man with a polished head. Plus, he had very kind blue eyes, covered by white bushy eyebrows and wrinkles spreading out from the sides.

  “It will be gut to rest,” Leah agreed. “It was a long night.”

  “I imagine it was.” Dr. Kentlee pointed to the fetal monitor she was wearing. “We’ll run the magnesium for forty-eight hours, and we’ll need to leave the monitor on while we do.”

  Leah touched the blanket, which covered her gown, where it pooched out from the stretchy band and monitor placed around her stomach.

  “Can’t say I ever wore a belt before,” she admitted, rubbing her stomach. “It will feel gut to take it off.”

  “The monitor allows us to measure your babies’ heart rates continuously.” Dr. Kentlee held up what looked a little like Samuel’s stethoscope. “I’ll admit to being somewhat old-fashioned though. I still like to listen myself. Do you mind?”

  Leah glanced at Adam, and they both shook their head no. They didn’t mind at all. This doctor had helped their babies, and what he’d instructed the paramedics to do had helped them.

  Maybe he had saved their lives.

  She moved her arm, the one with the IV in it, on top of the metal handrail.

  “Belinda has one of those,” Leah said.

  “A doppler?”

  “Ya.”

  “Belinda would be your midwife then.”

  Leah nodded as Gabriella pulled down the blanket. Dr. Kentlee placed his doppler on the mound that was her stomach. Leah was used to this process—Belinda, Samuel, and even Annie had listened to the babies’ heartbeats before. They’d even encouraged her to listen, though mostly all she had heard was a swish-swish sound that reminded her of swimming in the creek.

  Dr. Kentlee’s eyes went up and around and finally met hers. When they did, he smiled nicely and more of the tension in Leah’s shoulders melted away. She glanced up at Adam, but Adam was frowning at the doppler. He’d never cared much for medical procedures. Once he had admitted to her that he didn’t understand how Annie would choose such a thing to spend her rumspringa on—most of the things his sister did when helping patients made him nauseous.

  “All right.” Dr. Kentlee pulled the instrument off his ears and settled onto the chair beside her bed.

  Gabriella pulled up the blanket and tucked it around Leah, as if she were cold. She wasn’t cold, but it did help her feel more—well, more covered and she was grateful for that. She smiled her thanks.

  “The heartbeats for both babies sound strong, but we’re not out of the woods yet.” His emphasis on the word yet set off warning bells.

  “You mean the bopplin are still in danger?”

  “Hard to say, Adam.”

  Leah was surprised the doctor knew her husband’s name, but then they had walked in together. Perhaps they’d introduced themselves in the hall.

  “But you’re the doctor.”

  “A doctor, yes. A prophet, no.” The white eyebrows wiggled. “Leah experienced preterm labor—something fairly common with twins. It has slowed with her first few doses of magnesium sulfate, which I’d like to continue for at least forty-eight hours.”

  “Two days isn’t so bad,” Adam muttered.

  Leah knew he was worried about their being away from the farm. She didn’t like it either.

  “I’m concerned there may be other things going on we’re not seeing here. Perhaps the early contractions were a warning sign. I’d like to run a few tests.”

  “Why?” Adam asked, becoming more agitated.

  Dr. Kentlee didn’t answer immediately. Instead he waited for quietness to settle around them. Then he asked Adam a question. “Do you work in the fields?”

  “Ya. Some. I have a small place.”

  “That’s good. Your children will be able to learn the old ways.”

  Adam nodded.

  Leah wondered how much this Englisch doctor knew about their way of life. No doub
t, he did see many Amish patients at this hospital.

  “And what do you grow?”

  “Corn and hay.”

  When the doctor only waited, Adam added, “The hay is a mixture of clover, alsike, alfalfa, and timothy.”

  Dr. Kentlee grunted. “Good blend. If you noticed your corn, or your hay, was not producing as it should you wouldn’t immediately run out and apply more fertilizer . . .”

  Adam didn’t speak, only shook his head.

  “You’d check it out. Try to find out what was wrong.”

  “Are you comparing me to hay?” Leah asked, her fear draining away as she tried to decide if she was offended.

  “Hay is a blessing from the Lord, fraa.”

  “I was using the farming metaphor so Adam would understand why we need to do a few tests.” Kentlee stood and patted her hand. “I’ll be back before your evening meal. We should know more by then.”

  Adam had experienced slow afternoons before.

  The day his father was in the hospital had stretched on endlessly, one wretched hour dragging past the next. He’d stayed home to look after the farm, and no one had a telephone then. So he’d waited for the bishop to hear from the Englischer who lived across the street, and then he drove his buggy out to tell him how things had gone. It had been a long day.

  Then there had been the afternoon before his marriage to Leah. It had seemed to scuff along like an old workhorse, taking much longer to pass than was possible.

  But this afternoon? He wasn’t the type of person to watch a clock, but the one on the wall in Leah’s room did nothing but frustrate him. Every time he glanced at it, the hands had barely crept another ten minutes forward.

  At least the nurses had allowed Annie to join them in the room.

  “Why aren’t you quilting?” Adam nodded toward the bag he’d seen her carry from the waiting room to Leah’s room. “Not enough material?”

  Annie sighed. “Oh, I have plenty of fabric. I purchased the last of it when I was in town with Leah on Saturday.”

  “Then why are you crocheting?”