Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Her mother sat in an upright recliner beside the bed, staring at Luke. The expression on her face spoke of despair and hopelessness. Determined to help as best she could, Hannah stepped into the room and eased into the small chair beside her mother. “It’s okay, Mamm. Luke and Mary are gonna be all right. You just wait and see.”

  Although Hannah hadn’t gone in to see Mary yet, she’d overheard Becky Yoder tell all she knew of her daughter’s injuries. Poor Mary. She’d suffered a right femur fracture, a right dislocated shoulder, and a left subdural hematoma. The doctors had said that with physical therapy Mary’s leg and shoulder weren’t a concern. But she could have problems with her memory, speech, and coordination because of the head injury that required surgery to relieve the buildup of blood against her brain. She might not remember her family or friends. She might need to learn how to brush her teeth, feed herself, walk, and get dressed all over again. She’d also need months of physical therapy for the injuries to her shoulder and leg.

  Becky said her daughter’s heartbeat had been so weak at the scene of the accident that the medic thought she didn’t have a pulse. Hannah wondered just how close to dying Mary had come.

  Guilt nibbled at Hannah, for even with the grief of this situation, she was finding this world of medicine fascinating.

  Hours dragged by as Hannah and her family took turns watching Luke breathe. Various nurses and doctors came by and explained all sorts of medical issues that were hard to keep up with.

  The younger kids were miserable camping out in the waiting room, and Daed was fed up with just waiting for Luke to awaken. He’d mumbled something a few hours earlier about the rest of the potatoes having to be harvested before the weather turned.

  While Hannah sat in Luke’s room, both sets of parents gathered in a conference room to discuss who would stay at the hospital and who would return to the farm. Hannah knew the heads of the households wanted to get as much of their families as possible back home. Not only was there plenty that needed to be done, but the contact with such worldliness through the televisions and some of the people was not something either man wanted his children exposed to. And meals at the cafeteria were expensive for an entire family. Besides, it made no sense for two entire families to hold a vigil here.

  “Hannah.” Her mother motioned for her to leave Luke’s room and come with her. Hannah followed her out of the ICU area and into a secluded hallway. Her mother turned to her. “Your father came to me about this and then talked to Becky and John Yoder. We think the best place for you to be is here. Becky and I will stay as well.”

  The sadness in her mother’s eyes and voice hurt, and Hannah couldn’t answer.

  Mamm glanced down the hallway. “John and Becky would like you here in case Mary wakes up. If you tell her she’s safe and everything is okay, that will settle the matter.” She smiled, but it never entered her eyes. “Won’t it?”

  Hannah nodded. Mary did trust her. There had been a time when Mary wouldn’t believe she was safe from a storm or an imaginary monster unless Hannah told her so. But that was years ago, back when Mary was a child.

  Hannah was also fairly sure of what her mother wasn’t saying. If Mary never woke, or if she woke with some of the problems the doctor had mentioned, Hannah could be a comfort to Becky.

  Mamm took Hannah by the hand. “The man driving the car that ran into Luke and Mary showed up here at the hospital.”

  Hannah hadn’t expected this. “Why?”

  “He’s in the conference room with your Daed, John, and Becky. He’s so sorry for the accident, Hannah.” Her voice cracked, and she fought to control her emotions. “It ain’t his fault. He wasn’t speeding. He just topped the hill as the buggy was crossing the road. He and his wife have both offered to come work for us awhile. I think it’ll do the poor man some good to know he’s helping those he hurt, even if it wasn’t on purpose. And with their help, we won’t be short-handed if you stay here.” She paused, searching her daughter’s face. “Besides, your Daed says that you’re doing better here than at the farm and that maybe you need some time away.”

  Hannah swallowed. “I’d be happy to stay here with Luke and Mary. I’m learning bits and pieces about medical stuff, and it’s fascinating.”

  Their conversation paused as they waited on a man to pass them in the hallway. Hannah hated the reason they were at this place, but there was so much to learn around here. When no one saw her, she’d managed to read a few lines from a novel that someone had left in a waiting room and had flipped through a few psychology magazines.

  Her mother smiled. “I’ve always said you’d make a good midwife one day, Hannah. Now, go on back in with Luke.”

  An hour later Mamm came into Luke’s room, explaining that John Yoder and Daed had found lodging near the hospital for the three of them who were staying. Two drivers had arrived, and everyone else was downstairs loading up to leave.

  Mamm, Becky, and Hannah went down to say goodbye to their families. Mary’s father promised to return in a few days. In the meantime, Becky was to call him at the Bylers’ house with updates at a preset time each evening. In what seemed like a blur, Hannah stood in front of the hospital waving goodbye to most of her family.

  How did life change so quickly?

  Luke couldn’t manage to open his eyes, but he felt a peacefulness in his heart that he’d never known existed. The God who dictated the strict ways of the Ordnung had another side to Him. Based on what Luke’s heart felt, it was a gentle, listening, loving side. One that was quick to warm Luke’s being and build hope during desperate times.

  He heard Hannah near him, singing a hymn from the Ausbund. He pushed against the weight that tried to force his eyes shut and caught a glimpse of his sister.

  Hannah smiled. “Hi, Luke.”

  Where was he? His eyes closed and refused to open again, but he didn’t give in to the pull of sleep.

  An image of Mary broke through his murky thoughts. He tried to focus while his sister explained to him where he was, where Mary was, and why. Hannah’s always gentle voice now irritated him. He wanted to get up and demand that someone take him to see Mary. Now! But no matter how hard he fought against the engulfing grogginess, he couldn’t break free.

  In addition to his sister’s voice, he could hear other strange noises. There was a whooshing sound that reminded him of the diesel-powered milkers used on the dairy cows, rhythmic beeps like he’d never heard before, and the faint hum of some machine. Something under his nose was blowing cold air up his nostrils, but beyond that he detected a smell like the chemical his Mamm used to clean the floors. He ached from the top of his head down to his lower back, but his eyes refused to open, and his body occasionally jerked against its imprisonment. Unable to fight any longer, he allowed himself to sink back into that restful place.

  Sitting in the recliner beside Luke’s bed, Hannah hurt for both Luke and Mary. She closed her eyes. With them in such a bad way, it was only the beginning of difficult times.

  In spite of her concerns, sleepiness nipped at her. While she relaxed, an idea flowed into her mind.

  A quilt.

  With Mary having months of recuperation ahead and Hannah intending to spend as many of those hours with her dear friend as she could, it seemed a good time to start a quilt for Luke and Mary. If her friend awoke with problems remembering her life, it could serve to tie Mary to her past and to her future as they worked on the squares together. Thoughts of gathering materials and designing a special pattern brought a sense of peace, causing Hannah to close her eyes and lean back in the recliner.

  “Wh-where’s Mary?” Luke’s scratchy voice shot through her.

  Hannah jumped to her feet, startled. Breathless, she grasped his hand. “Luke, you’re awake.”

  He stared at her, confusion radiating from his eyes. “Is … Mary … alive?”

  “Yes. She’s in a room down the hall.”

  A nervous chill ran through her. A nurse had said that when Luke woke, no one was to tel
l him any more than Mary was alive and resting. Desperate not to utter the wrong thing, Hannah motioned toward the door. “I … I’ll tell Mamm and the nurses that you’re awake.”

  As nurses flitted in and out of Luke’s room, Mamm sat in the cushioned chair, keeping her show of emotion to a minimum. But the light in her eyes helped to ease Hannah’s heartache.

  Luke was awake, absorbing his new surroundings with a mixture of thankfulness and frustration. In spite of his numerous attempts to see Mary, the staff had refused. Dr. Greenfield was concerned that the stress might slow Luke’s progress. Sometime after she was removed from life support—if all went well—Luke would be allowed to see her.

  On Mary’s third day after her surgery, the doctor would run tests to see what was going on inside her skull. If there were signs of healing and no pools or clots of blood, the staff would begin the process of waking her and might remove the ventilator.

  Hannah’s heart turned a flip every time she thought about the doctor’s words. They were so noncommittal. If Mary responded well, she should be able to breathe on her own. Recovery seemed so tentative, so faltering. The possibilities made Hannah feel panicky. But quiet misery seemed the only way to respond as the waiting went on and on.

  Paul walked beside his supervisor as they strode down the corridor of the family-services department. Connie, a thirty-something mother of three children, was his mentor in this learning process. She had blond hair and wore slacks with tailored jackets whenever Paul saw her, which hadn’t been often since he’d begun working here only a week ago. After this initial two-week training period, Paul would work here two days a week.

  Thankfully, his immediate boss at the tire store hadn’t had the last word about Paul getting fired if he left work early to go to the interview for this job. Mr. Banks stepped in and told Kyle that Paul having flexibility with his work schedule was part of the store’s agreement when Paul was hired. Kyle seemed to quietly seethe over the reminder of that piece of news, but he’d stopped breathing threats at Paul.

  “You studied my notes last night?” Connie flipped open the thick file and skimmed the first page, checking to see if Paul had initialed it.

  “Yes ma’am.” The case in question involved the Holmes family—mother, father, and four children, including a teenage daughter named Kirsten, who had shown a tendency to throw fits at her family while in the yard where neighbors could see her. She also had a penchant for hysteria while standing on her property. When Kirsten ran away from home, the police brought her back and contacted social services.

  After the initial home visit, the caseworker determined the situation to be detrimental for all the children. An uncle who lived with the family had a history of alcohol abuse and violence. The parents had been ordered to attend counseling sessions, which, according to the report, they had been doing faithfully. Today’s session would include Kirsten. This should be interesting, Paul thought.

  “Any questions?” his supervisor asked.

  “Yeah. What’s the status on the uncle?”

  Connie closed the file. “Both parents have sworn that he is not allowed back into their home.”

  “What will happen if Kirsten runs away again?”

  “Well, there are a couple of ways this could be handled, but I’d suggest we do another in-home visit and interview the other kids to see if something is going on that shouldn’t be.”

  Approaching a closed door, Connie put her hand on the doorknob and turned to Paul. “Now, Kirsten is dramatic. She’s quite good at putting on a show. I can guarantee she’s going to cry and try to throw blame on everyone but herself. Her dramatic ways are not necessarily an indicator of what’s really taking place inside the home. There’s plenty of blame to go around, but our job is to help this family function as a unit, not to take sides.”

  Paul nodded. “I’ll do my best to remain objective.”

  The third day after Mary’s surgery finally arrived. Her test results had indicated that the area inside her skull where surgery had been performed was healing better than the doctors had expected. The medicines that were keeping her in a coma had been reduced a few hours ago. Mary’s doctor, Dr. Hill—a man much older and rounder than Dr. Greenfield—predicted that Mary should be awake by nightfall.

  Still feeling as if her mind and heart were shrouded in a thick fog, Hannah sat by Mary’s bed on one side while Becky sat on the other. Mamm hadn’t left Luke’s room all day. He’d been moved out of ICU and onto the fifth floor. The hardest part of the last few days had been dealing with Luke, even though the doctor kept him mildly sedated. When Luke was awake, he was irritable and constantly demanded to see Mary. Then the sedatives would take over, and he’d drift back off to sleep.

  Hannah believed Dr. Greenfield was right; Luke didn’t need to see Mary like this. Becky had agreed to visit Luke here and there, knowing he’d come closer to believing Mary was doing well if her mother wasn’t staying by her side every second. Hannah admired Becky for being willing to leave her daughter for periods of time to help Luke stay calm.

  The past few days had taxed everyone’s strength, although no physical work was required. Hannah, Mamm, and Becky took turns sitting with Luke and Mary, returning to the hotel for catnaps and grabbing quick bites of food in the cafeteria. A lot of Old Order Amish folk—some relatives, some not—had come from all over Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana, many hiring drivers to bring them, to visit and offer support. Those who could donated money for the mounting hospital bills. Even though they wanted to return to the farm with the young ones, Mamm, Becky, and Hannah were far from feeling lonely with all the Amish folks who came. From what Hannah was told, only one of Mary’s aunts didn’t come to visit, the one who was expecting twins in February and lived in Ohio. Her husband came by train, traveling with relatives and friends.

  In his phone calls with Mamm, Daed told her about the dozens of Amish men and boys who were pitching in with the farming. Several brought their wives to help with the cooking and such at both the Yoder and Lapp homes. The community support given during this time did Hannah’s heart good. Her people were kind and generous. Somehow, because of her vehement desire to marry outside her community, she’d forgotten the many blessings of being Amish.

  Her Mamm said that their English neighbors had been stopping by and offering to help too. People were putting their heads and money together to design a harness shop and an attached apartment as a surprise for Luke and Mary. Hannah hoped they could get that built. That would be a wonderful gift for her friend.

  Singing a made-up song from their childhood, Hannah glanced at Becky, whose eyes were glued to her daughter. Mary’s limp, lifeless body had been moved into what the nurse called a semi-Fowler’s position, with the head of the hospital bed at a forty-five-degree angle.

  The minutes droned into hours as Hannah sat beside Mary’s bed, softly singing and rehashing old memories. For now, Becky was in Luke’s room, trying to convince him that Mary was fine. Hannah squeezed Mary’s hand. “Remember the day we found that litter of abandoned kittens in your Daed’s old tool shed?” A soft laugh escaped Hannah. “It took us days to convince our mothers those poor things really were abandoned.” Hannah ran her fingers up and down Mary’s arm. “When they finally believed us, they gave us milk for them and let us use eyedroppers to feed them. We held those tiny kittens and fed them every hour like we’d die if one of them didn’t make it.” Hannah clicked her tongue in disgust. “They aren’t worth the milk we put into their stomachs. They turned out to be mean old rascals that killed every decent cat your Daed had in his barn. But they lived.”

  Hannah laughed. “How about when we were thirteen and worked all fall collecting and sewing comforters for the Mission House? Oh, Mary, we were such a determined pair of girls about everything, remember?”

  Whenever there was an occasional slight shifting of Mary’s fingers or toes, Hannah whispered to her friend where she was and why. The staff came in and out a lot, though they didn’t seem to be particula
rly concerned.

  The ventilator was set to breathe for Mary only when she didn’t breathe for herself. Hopefully, Mary’s own respiratory system would take over as soon as the medicine-induced paralysis had completely lifted. Hannah listened to the machine force air into Mary’s lungs. It happened more times than she thought it should.

  Come on, Mary, breathe. Just breathe.

  A white form crossed the doorway. Hannah’s gaze moved from Mary to see Dr. Greenfield.

  “Patience.” He smiled. “Her slowness to wake is well within normal.”

  Hannah forced a smile, glad that Dr. Greenfield was around. He stepped farther into the room and adjusted something on Mary’s IV bag. Without saying a word, Becky slipped into the room and took a seat beside her daughter’s bed. Mary’s eyelids twitched, and her legs shifted. She turned her head, as if trying to free herself of the contraption that covered her mouth. She coughed and pulled against her restraints. A long, loud shrill began.

  Dr. Greenfield pushed a button on the ventilator, turning off the alarm. He moved to the bedside and checked Mary’s pupils. “This is all perfectly normal,” he assured Hannah and Becky. “Dr. Hill began making his rounds a little while ago. He’ll be in soon.” He turned and walked out the door.

  As the hours wore on, Mary looked less and less like a corpse, though Hannah would be hard pressed to say why.

  Mary’s legs shifted, and Hannah leaned near her ear. “Mary, you were in an accident. We’re at the hospital, and you’re safe. The odd feeling in your throat is a tube that’s helping you breathe. A machine is breathing for you some of the time. Don’t fight it. Just relax. Luke is down the hall, waiting to hear that you’re awake. When he woke, he felt very much like you do, and he’s doing really good now.”

  Hannah talked on, repeating herself over and over. It seemed that Becky found talking impossible right now. A few times she’d tried speaking to her daughter, but she had choked on the words and returned to silence. Whenever Hannah paused in singing or talking, Mary pulled her head to the side, trying to free herself of the tube attached to her face, pulling against the restraints and coughing.