Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy

by Cindy Woodsmall

  The women cleared the food off the kitchen table and scrubbed the surface clean before spreading the partially finished “Past and Future” quilt across the table.

  Mary remained near the front door, leaning on Hannah. “It’s always about me. I’m so sorry.” Her body shook like a newborn calf.

  “Sh, Liewi. Sh.” Hannah forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine. “It’s a day we’ve looked forward to, no?”

  Mary laid her head on Hannah’s shoulder and wept. Beyond any question, Hannah knew that her friend was not strong or well enough to deal with the truth of what had taken place in her life. Just the idea that Hannah was unhappy had caused Mary to tremble and quake.

  More women arrived, including Mary’s mother and grandmother. When they saw Mary weeping in Hannah’s arms, anxiety filled Becky’s eyes. Mammi Annie frowned in concern. Hannah nodded to assure both women that Mary would be fine in a few minutes. Becky helped Mammi Annie move into the room and get seated.

  Sarah bounded through the door next, chattering as only fifteen-year-old girls can, with no regard to the somber mood of the room. Hannah’s sister didn’t even speak to her. Then again, maybe she was giving her and Mary some privacy.

  A quick glance outside informed Hannah that her Mamm hadn’t come. Sarah had apparently hitched a ride with Edna Smucker, their closest Amish neighbor, who was walking toward the house with a small stack of already-sewn quilt patches.

  “Kumm,” Hannah whispered to Mary. Leaving the walker behind, she led Mary to the best seat at the table, the one near the wood stove, so she wouldn’t need to shift out of the way as people milled about.

  Mary wiped at her eyes, her hands still trembling. As she sank into the seat, she clung to Hannah’s hand like a frightened child.

  Hannah kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “Don’t let my girlhood silliness upset you. This season of life will change soon enough, no?”

  “Ehrlich?” Mary asked, her hushed voice unheard by the babbling women busily spreading the quilt background over the table.

  Hannah drew a deep breath. No, it wasn’t honest, but it was the truth condensed into something Mary could handle. Hannah would move beyond this spell and be happy. All she needed was Paul close by. “Ya.” Hannah patted Mary’s shoulder. “Ya.”

  The women talked as they laid small pieces of fabric over the off-white background. Each one seemed keenly aware of Mary’s fretfulness but acted nonchalant and oblivious.

  Hannah lifted two pieces of cloth off the table, a deep purple and a gorgeous magenta. She held them in front of Mary. “Impatiens wait to be designed into this quilt by the best among us at sewing flowers.” She lowered the material in front of Mary. It was well known that Mary could outdo any seamstress when it came to designing flowers into quilts. As Mary’s hands went toward the material Hannah held, she withdrew the squares and held them toward Becky.

  The whole room, including Mary, broke into laughter. Although Becky Yoder was good at sewing all sorts of items from nature, she had often complained that she couldn’t sew a flower to save her life but her daughter could do it in her sleep.

  Mary laughed. “I thought you wanted impatiens, not blobs.”

  Becky mockingly wagged her finger in her daughter’s face. “Not one of my children has suffered yet due to my lack of skill.”

  Ah, the mantra of every mother alive: for her children not to suffer because of what she lacked. Hannah cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “That might be taking it a bit far, don’t you think?” She peered at Mary, whose face was brightening by the moment.

  Mary nodded. “When Robert lay under that blanket you made for him, he thought one of your flowers was a monster about to smother him in his sleep.”

  As laughter filled the room, Hannah returned to the stove to check the loaf of bread she’d forgotten. Becky wasn’t nearly as bad at sewing flowers as she took ribbing for. She loved the teasing, egged it on most times. She often said that she considered a sense of humor about oneself to be nourishing to the soul and to the souls of others as well.

  Hannah pulled the bread pan from the oven and, with great theatrics, turned it toward the women. Their hoots and cackles made the room vibrate. Her loaf of bread was burned all around the edges and gave off a horrible aroma. “It seems one of you could have noticed the scent of burned bread before now.”

  Naomi, with splayed fingers, waved her hand like a Victorian lady, then placed it over her heart. “It’s an aroma we didn’t recognize, having never burned bread in our lives.”

  Fresh roars of laughter filled the home. Every woman had burned foods while baking. The day was too filled with juggling babies, food preparation, and side businesses to keep up with everything perfectly.

  Hannah carried the pan toward the doorway. Becky hurried to open the door for her. As Hannah stepped outside, she whispered, “I may take a few moments for myself while Mary’s distracted. Do you mind?”

  “No, child.” Becky looked lovingly at Hannah. “Annie and I will tend to lunch.” Becky closed the door, keeping the brisk wind out of the house.

  The cold air almost took Hannah’s breath away. She should have thought to get her shawl. Hurrying to the edge of the yard, she dumped the pan over, emptying it of the smoldering bread.

  She stood straight, gazing over the brown lands of late fall. The husbands of the lighthearted quilters were out hunting pheasant and quail today, hoping to bring home some good birds before Thanksgiving next week. A few of the menfolk had managed to kill wild turkeys a couple of weeks back, but that season was closed now, so the other men were aiming for something less weighty.

  The strength and pleasure of the women who loved, laughed, gave birth, served their families as well as their community, and finally died having tried to fulfill God’s call on their lives warmed Hannah like nothing else. The tenderness of those who had known her all her life—who knew her mother, grandmother, and even her great-grandmother—melted the edges of ice that had formed around her heart.

  Hannah walked toward Becky Yoder’s home. She could at least wash a few dishes for Becky while the women quilted.

  Sarah’s hopes of seeing Jacob had taken a hard blow the moment she learned that all the Yoder men had gone hunting today. She’d spent weeks looking forward to catching a few words with him today even if she had to mill about the property half the day to see him.

  What a miserable disappointment.

  She wondered how many times Hannah had made ways to see Jacob without any of the Yoders realizing it. When the sewing needle pricked Sarah’s index finger, she yelped. A few of the women tittered with laughter. Mary barely glanced up. Her reaction stung Sarah deeply. It didn’t seem to matter at all to Mary that years ago, before Mary and Hannah began school, Mary had been Sarah’s best friend, not Hannah’s. Everyone in this room spoke highly of Hannah, even Grace Hostetler. Clearly Grace’s husband, Bishop Eli, had not yet shared with her the information Sarah had given him about Hannah’s midnight ride in her nightgown. If these women knew the truth about her sister’s indiscretions, Hannah wouldn’t be the queen bee around here. Sarah put her finger in her mouth to keep blood from staining the quilt.

  Mary passed her a handkerchief, which Sarah quickly wrapped around her wound. When Mary rose from her chair, Grace bounded to fetch the walker.

  “Dankes.” Clutching the handgrips, Mary shuffled away from the table. “Come with me to the bathroom, Sarah. I’ve got just the thing for that finger.”

  Surprised and a bit honored, Sarah followed Mary, trying to think of something she could say that would impress the girl and make them close friends again.

  Mary opened the mirrored medicine cabinet. She pulled out a box of Band-Aids and then turned on the faucet. “Hold it under the water for a minute.”

  Sarah removed the handkerchief and stuck her finger under the stream. “Daed finally got our plumbing all straight.”

  Mary squeezed Sarah’s finger, expressing a few drops of blood. “I bet that
makes life a lot easier, especially with Hannah here all the time.”

  Ire ignited in Sarah’s chest. Why did everyone talk as if Hannah were everything and Sarah nothing? “Hannah’s not all that great, you know.”

  Mary turned off the water. “That little prick should be all cleaned out now.” She pointed to the cabinet under the sink. “Clean washrags are under there, but you’ll have to get one yourself. I can’t bend that low yet.”

  “I’ll do it.” Sarah grabbed a rag and dried her wet hand.

  Mary’s lack of response to her comment about Hannah was a clear indicator of her loyalties. If she only knew the truth. “Since you two are best friends and all, I’m sure Hannah’s told you she’s been running off with some Englischer during the night.” Sarah gave her sweetest grin, hoping she’d worded that piece of news in a way that sounded upright and innocent.

  Mary peeled the Band-Aid out of its paper wrapper. “This should keep your finger from bleeding on the fabric.”

  Sarah huffed. “I guess she didn’t mention it to you after all. But it’s true. I saw her myself.” She glanced in the shaving mirror, pretending to make sure her blond locks were safely tucked inside her Kapp. “You know, Daed and the bishop saw her with an English doctor at the hospital. In his arms in broad daylight! I overheard Daed telling Mamm about it. He’s fit to be tied.”

  Grasping the walker tightly, Mary shot Sarah an angry look in the mirror. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Since you’re her best friend, I thought you’d want to help keep her on the straight and narrow It’d be a shame if she—”

  “Who else have you told these things to?”

  Sarah bristled. “Look, you can keep secrets for her if you want, but I’m not going to. She can’t pretend to be something she’s not.”

  “Oh, really?” Mary’s voice quavered like a pot of simmering stew. “Isn’t that precisely what you’re doing? Trying to make me think you’re telling me something for Hannah’s sake when you’re simply doing it out of spite. Though why you would want to harm your own sister is beyond me.” Trembling, Mary grasped the walker and shuffled out the door.

  Sarah followed her to the bedroom. Concern for how badly Mary was shaking made Sarah fear for what she’d begun. She hadn’t meant to upset Mary but it was only right that the girl see Hannah for who she really was.

  Mary sat on the side of the bed, her breathing labored. “Did you”— Mary took a quick breath, her speech coming in gasps—“approach Hannah … before spreading your version of … whatever it is you’re talking about?”

  Mary’s accusation stung, but Sarah wasn’t ready to give up. “Hannah has been far too preoccupied with herself to be approached about anything.”

  Mary glared at Sarah. “What a deerich girl you are. What a foolish, foolish girl.” Her eyes rolled back, and she fell over limp on the bed.

  “Mary!” Sarah screamed.

  Within seconds, a herd of women raced into the bedroom.

  Becky grabbed her daughter’s head, obviously searching for signs of alertness. “Mary!” There was no response. “Go get Hannah. She’s outside somewhere. Hurry.”

  Confused and frightened, Sarah ran out of the bedroom and through the front door. “Hannah! Hannah!” She dashed toward the road, skimming the lands for her sister. Oh, why had she tried to win Mary’s approval by sharing her secret? She should have known it was a pointless venture. Mary was now Hannah’s close friend, and nothing she could say would change that. Hearing the truth about her wouldn’t easily dissuade the loyal girl.

  When the women learned she was the reason Mary had gotten upset, they’d wag their tongues about Hannah’s mean little sister for years to come. She searched her mind for ways to avoid the scolding she was in for.

  As she ran past the Yoders’ home, she saw Hannah coming out the front door, looking relaxed and carefree, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Hannah,” she shrieked, “Mary’s having a spell of some sort. She collapsed. Dabber schpring!”

  Even before Sarah finished screaming, Hannah was bolting up the driveway toward the Daadi Haus.

  Hannah barreled through the side door, out of breath after her short sprint.

  Grace pointed to the bedroom. “Kammer.”

  Upon entering the small room, Hannah found the rest of the women hovering around the bed. “What happened?”

  The terror in Becky’s eyes made Hannah’s knees nearly buckle. “Ich kann net saage.”

  She couldn’t say?

  Hannah grabbed the blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope out of the dresser in a far corner of the room. If Becky didn’t know what was wrong, then Mary must have been more stressed by thoughts of the secret Hannah had never shared than she had realized.

  As Hannah came to the edge of the bed, the women cleared the way for her. Mary’s face was flushed, but she looked coherent, even a bit annoyed. Hannah passed the items in her hand to Grace.

  “Deerich,” Mary mumbled.

  “Liewe Mary, you’re not foolish at all. Now just relax.” Placing her hand behind Mary’s back, Hannah eased her forward and removed the pillows that were propping her up. She helped Mary slide downward in the bed, the loving hands of several women easing her into a flat position.

  Hannah placed the pillows under Mary’s feet. “Close your eyes. Take slow, deep breaths. Everything will be just fine.” She retrieved the blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope from Grace. Hannah cooed in her most consoling voice while wrapping the cuff around Mary’s arm. Hannah pumped the rubber bulb on the blood-pressure cuff. After the appropriate number of pumps, she stopped to read the gauge; it said 112/71, normal for Mary. Hannah loosened the cuff and let it hang. She tossed the stethoscope onto the bed and took Mary’s wrist, checking her pulse.

  Mary motioned with one hand. “Du muscht verschteh.”

  “I do understand. Shush now. I need to think.” Counting the beats for thirty seconds and then doubling that number, she came up with 134 beats per minute. That was high, definitely worth calling about. “Sarah?”

  Sarah edged forward. “Ya?”

  “There’s a little pamphlet in the top drawer of the dresser. Could you get it, please?”

  She scurried to do Hannah’s bidding.

  “A nurse’s direct line is written on there. Take the pamphlet to the phone shanty and dial that number. Tell whoever answers who you are and what’s going on. I’ll come to the shanty before the nurse gets on the line.”

  “Deerich.” Mary raised herself up on her elbows and glared at Sarah. “Die entsetzlich Druwwel Du duscht.”

  “Mary,” Hannah whispered, “lie back. You’re talking nonsense. Sarah hasn’t brought any awful trouble to me.” Hannah glanced at Sarah. The girl looked stricken with worry. “It’s okay, Sarah. Just go call that number. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I want to check her blood pressure and pulse one more time first.”

  Sarah darted out of the room.

  “Hannah.” Mary pulled at her arm, nodding at the women in the room and then toward the door.

  Clearly Mary wanted to speak to Hannah alone. It seemed rude and bold, but Hannah wasn’t about to argue. “Becky, I think some homemade chicken soup would do her a world of good.”

  The women all filed out of the room with a new mission, to pull together a batch of soup as quickly as they could. As the last woman to leave, Edna closed the door behind her.

  Hannah tightened the dangling blood-pressure cuff and put the stethoscope on Mary’s antecubital as she’d been taught. “Mary, what happened to you?”

  Mary’s greenish blue eyes were wide open, her pupils dilated. “Sarah told me some things. Dreadful things. Hannah, I believe your sister is betraying you to the community, and you’ll end up paying for it for years to come. You’ve got to stop her. You’ve got to.”

  Hannah’s heart raced, battling between compassion for her younger sister, who often spoke first and thought second, and wrath at Sarah’s lack of tongue control. But what had the girl
told Mary about her? What did she know that could hurt her so badly? Had Mrs. Waddell told her about Hannah’s relationship with Paul? Or had she overheard their parents talking about the unmentionable?

  When she got another normal reading on Mary’s blood pressure, she took off the stethoscope. “What did Sarah tell you?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  “She said you were in the arms of some doctor and that she saw you in your nightgown taking a midnight ride with a man.”

  A slap across the face couldn’t have hurt any worse. Hannah forced a smile. “Little sisters do that sometimes—tattle in hopes of causing trouble. Since you don’t have any sisters, you just didn’t know.” Hannah patted her leg. “I need to get to that phone and see if the nurse agrees with my thoughts. Rest now. I’ll be back soon.”

  When Hannah walked out of the bedroom, Becky met her. “Do you think she needs a doctor?”

  Hannah fought against her indignation at Sarah and tried to find a gentle tone to answer her. “I’m not sure, but I think she’s fine, just a bit weak.”

  Becky grasped Hannah’s hand. “I’ll go sit with her.”

  Hannah nodded and whisked out the side door and down the driveway toward the phone shanty. Thoughts of striking Sarah roiled through her. What had the girl been thinking, sharing such idle gossip? Their father must have said something about the doctor, probably not with the intention of Sarah or any other sibling hearing him. Hannah squeezed her fists.

  Father God, help me see beyond my fury.

  She glanced at the sky. Gray clouds hung low, and the scent of snow hung on the air. It would be Christmastime soon, and Hannah would see Paul. Thankful for that refreshing thought, she drew a deep breath.

  As she watched the movement of wisps of clouds, she thought of Vento. Matthew had been right; the stallion’s gait was as smooth as the clouds he’d compared the horse to.

  Sudden concern lurched within her heart. Matthew. If Sarah’s gossip got to the ears of Matthew’s prospective girl, it would end things between them for sure.

  Through the windows of the small shanty, Hannah saw Sarah holding the phone to her ear. Hannah opened the door.