Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Luke eased up to her. “Mary, what’s all this about?” When she tried to turn away from him, he stepped in front of her. “I need you to talk to me, Mary. I can’t stand what’s happening to us. I was wrong about Hannah, but I’ve already done all I can to fix that. And you have the power over our future.”

  “That’s just it, Luke. I don’t have the power. The doctor has removed it from me. And you’ll up and lea—” She stopped, picked up the quilt, and moved back to the chair. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock.

  Luke returned to the ottoman, waiting for her to finish her sentence. Doctors grated on her nerves easily. They were quick to give her lists of things she had to do, like take physical therapy and nutritional supplements. They also gave lists of things she couldn’t do, like stay on her feet for more than six hours each day. He was curious what they’d demanded of her this time that had her so frustrated.

  “I think I’ll give Paul this quilt.” She grabbed the spool and unwound some of the thread. “From the work Hannah put into it, it has more of her in it than anything else she owned.”

  Though not thrilled with the idea of her so easily giving away their marriage-bed quilt, he gave a slight nod. “If that’s what you want.”

  Mary looked up from her sewing. “You’d not balk at me giving this to Paul?”

  “I met him today. He’s not such a bad guy. And I think he’s hurting awful bad.” Luke placed his hands over hers. “But that’s not who I’m worried about.”

  She lowered her head, her fingers tightening around his. “I’m sorry, Luke. But I can’t marry you.”

  Fighting the urges to argue, walk out, or pressure her for an immediate answer, he rubbed her fingers. “Can’t or won’t?” In spite of his anxiety, his words flowed calmly.

  She shook her head. “It’s time for you to go.”

  “Not yet. First I need you to answer that question. You can’t marry me, or you won’t marry me?”

  “You need to find somebody else—” Her face crumpled with sadness.

  “Mary, you’re scaring me. I feel like I did during those awful days before you woke in the hospital. Does this have something to do with what the doctor said yesterday?”

  “It’s not like that.” She stood. “The doctor says I’m doing great, just as long as I follow his orders.”

  Relieved, he took a deep breath. “Then what’s wrong?”

  Her lips curved down, causing a half-dozen little dimples to develop on her chin. “He said I can’t plan on getting married this fall.”

  Shocked, Luke gazed up at her, hoping she meant what it sounded like. “Does that mean you’re still interested in marrying me?”

  “Of course I am.” Her cheeks seemed to flush. “I mean …”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “It sounds like I still stand a chance of being your husband.” He reached for her hand and gently tugged on it.

  She knelt in front of him.

  He caressed her cheek. “I love you, Mary.”

  “But …” She tilted her chin back as if she wasn’t ready to forgive him.

  A bolt of laughter escaped him. “Hannah would be proud of that chintilting thing. But she was better at it than you.”

  She smoothed her apron without looking at him. “Oh, Luke, it’s not funny. The doctor said I’m not to get pregnant for … fi—for several years. And you know the bishop won’t allow …” Pink tinged her cheeks.

  Birth control. Not only was she thinking of marrying him, she was imagining the nights they’d share. “Mary, I can wait. You’re a bit young to be getting married just yet anyway. I ought to wait for you. You shouldn’t try to rush things for me. Right?”

  Her lips pouted. “You could at least want to appeal to the bishop.”

  He encircled her in his arms. “Oh, I’ll appeal, all right,” he whispered in her ear.

  With the head of the hospital bed angled upright and a food tray in front of her, Hannah watched as Bugs Bunny paraded across the television screen. She’d been moved from ICU within hours of waking, and this morning she’d discovered that some of her strength had returned. The rabbit popped his head out of a hole, smacked loudly on a carrot, and looked around. “I knew I shoulda taken a left toin in Albuquerque.” He’d made the same mistake an hour ago and landed in a whole different set of troubles.

  Glad for the way this cartoon distracted her thoughts, she took a bite of her scrambled eggs. Her face contorted at the plastic feel in her mouth. She poked at the eggs on her plate with her fork, wondering if they were real, then pushed away the tray.

  For the first time since she’d awakened yesterday, she wasn’t trembling like a newborn calf. Trying to mask the taste of the eggs, she took a long drink of her orange juice. Maybe tomorrow the IV could be removed, and she’d be able to slip out of this place and go into hiding somewhere.

  The door to her hospital room opened, and Dr. Lehman strode in. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Hannah set her juice down and wiped her mouth. “A lot better. Plenty well enough to take care of myself.”

  The doctor pushed the juice toward her, silently expressing his will. “That’s doubtful. Nice try though.” As she finished the drink, he pulled a chair close to the bed and took a seat. “I did a little reading last night on runaways. Most of those who flee home have a reason for heading in a certain direction.”

  A nervous tingle ran down her spine. Wondering if he intended to help her or work against her, she set the empty cup on the bedside tray.

  He rubbed his chin. “So why did you come to Alliance? Was this your destination or just a stop along the way?”

  Smoothing her hands across the bedcovers, she answered, “Alliance is the closest train depot to Winding Creek, which is where my aunt lives.”

  “Ah, so you did have a specific place in mind because you knew someone here.”

  She grimaced. “Know someone might be a bit of a stretch.”

  “You don’t know your aunt?”

  Hating to admit that part, she fidgeted with the hem of the sheet. While stalling, she decided her best way of getting this man on her side was to be honest with him. “I didn’t even know she existed until about six months ago. But I’m sure I can find her.”

  Dr. Lehman took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t know she existed? That’s odd, especially among people as family oriented as the Amish.”

  “I figure she’s been shunned, but I won’t know anything for sure until I meet her. I discovered a letter from her, and that’s where I got her address.”

  He nodded, seeming satisfied with her answer. “There’s one question that came to me last night and has been nagging at me ever since.” He slid his glasses back into place. “I’d like you to answer it, okay?”

  She stared at him, wondering how she was supposed to agree to something without knowing what that something was.

  He slid his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “Why apply for a job at a medical office? Why not apply at a restaurant or at a day care?”

  For the first time in too long, Hannah felt a smile tug at her face. Science was the most fascinating subject on the whole planet. While working with the nurses in charge of Mary’s recovery, Hannah had learned some specifics about how cells form into organs and how each system has its unique job and needs. The needs part was where medical knowledge could help people get well, could even save lives.

  She searched his face. “The desire to work where I can learn medical things is in here.” She patted her chest. “Learning about healing and medicine draws me like …”—she closed her eyes and tried to think of an expression that matched her desires—“like a new mother longs for her child.” She pulled a long breath into her lungs, feeling embarrassed that she’d just shared so much of herself. “You know?”

  After a long silence, he scratched the back of his head. “Look, I’m not sure what the laws are, but your chances of not being sent back home have to be better if you c
an find that aunt of yours. Maybe I can help you.”

  Pinpricks of excitement swept through her, and she knew she was gaping at him.

  “Clearly you have trust issues.” He clasped his hands and laid them in his lap. “But I really do want to help you. I’ve already run some interference for you with Admissions; otherwise they’d already have contacted the police.”

  She studied his face, trying to determine his true motives. “Why?”

  “Maybe I’ve just turned into an old fool.”

  Some of the heaviness she’d grown so accustomed to lifted. “You won’t regret it. I’d promise to repay you if giving oaths to man wasn’t against God’s Word.”

  “And you don’t think disobeying your parents and running away are sins?” The wrinkles across his brow deepened as he seemed to dissect her responses.

  Hannah lowered her head. “I’ve wondered about that.” She tugged at a loose thread on the top sheet, drowning in the thoughts that rose within her, thoughts she couldn’t believe were hers. “But I’ve decided it isn’t a sin to protect yourself, whatever it takes.”

  He sighed and pulled a pen and pad out of his pocket. “I’m going to take a chance on you. What’s your aunt’s name and address?”

  “I got that driver to take me to her address. It was an unlivable old house.”

  “Why don’t you give me the info anyway and let me see what I can find out?”

  She wanted to answer, but her throat seemed to have closed up.

  He stared out the window for a few seconds. “Listen, if we’re going to have any type of relationship, regardless of how temporary, you’re going to have to trust me, or at least pretend.”

  A whispery laugh escaped her. “I can do that. Pretend, that is.”

  He chuckled.

  “Her name’s Zabeth Bender. Her address is supposed to be 4201 Hanover Place, Winding Creek, Ohio.”

  He scribbled on the notepad.

  “What happens to me if you can’t find her?”

  “One bridge at a time, Hannah.”

  She wasn’t asking for a bridge. She wanted an escape plan, some trace of hope that this kind man had a backup plan that would save her from having to return to Owl’s Perch even if he couldn’t find her aunt.

  He shoved the pad into his pocket. “If I discover anything solid, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, rest. And you ought to call your parents and let them know you’re safe.”

  “They don’t own a phone.”

  Dr. Lehman scowled at her. “Don’t misdirect me, Hannah. I know a little bit about how the Amish live. I’m sure you can call someone who has a phone and get them to take a message to your parents.”

  Her cheeks burned. “I don’t mean to be dishonest. But I didn’t go through everything I have just to be found.”

  Pulling a small phone out of his pocket, Dr. Lehman growled. “Use this. The number’s unlisted, so no information will show up on caller ID or a bill.”

  Hannah stared at the strange gadget. “I don’t know how to use that.”

  He flipped it open. “Punch in the numbers, with the area code, then press the button with the green icon of a telephone receiver.”

  Area code? Icon?

  She took the phone from his hand and looked at it, then at him, and back again.

  “You’ll figure it out. I have rounds to make. I’ll be back for it later.” He lifted an eyebrow at her and looked meaningfully at the phone. “And a full report.”

  She watched him leave before turning her attention back to the tiny phone in her hand. The man just didn’t understand what he was asking of her. No one wanted to hear from her. Well, almost no one. She had promised Mary, Luke, and Matthew that she would write, but aside from her brother and two friends, everyone else fell just short of hating her. Maybe they did hate her. She didn’t know. She didn’t want to think about it. Her dream was to start fresh, not deal with old things.

  Staring at the phone, she huffed. The doctor had put a task before her, one that had to be done or he wouldn’t help her. What had Paul told her about making a long-distance call? She closed her eyes, trying to remember.

  He had said to dial 411 if she knew the name but not the phone number. Would calling that three-digit number work for locating area codes? She pushed the only green thing she could see. She put the phone to her ear but heard no dial tone.

  Paul had taught her a thousand things over their years of friendship, but he hadn’t owned a cell phone, so he’d never showed her how to use one. The ache of missing Paul stole her sense of relief. Hope in Dr. Lehman’s words couldn’t stop the awful hurt of facing her future without Paul.

  After trying several ways to make the phone work, she finally reached directory assistance. It wasn’t all that hard—press the digits and then the button with the green image of a receiver. Once she had the area code to go with Mary’s phone number, Hannah punched the numbers in. The phone rang.

  In her imagination she could hear the shrill ring of the phone echoing across the fields of the Yoders’ farm. If someone besides Mary answered, would they hang up when they realized who was calling? Would they pass a message to Hannah’s parents, assuring them she was safe? If they hung up or refused to take a message to her family, would Dr. Lehman refuse to help her?

  A clicking noise let her know someone had just lifted the phone from its cradle.

  Closing the door on his way out of Gram’s house, Paul wondered how to go about finding a reliable private investigator. He headed for his truck, hoping the police might offer him some direction. Money was a problem, but he’d figure something out. He refused to return to school or work right now. It was way past time for Hannah to be his top priority.

  The sound of a horse whinnying caught his attention. Coming across the back pasture was a man dressed in the black trousers, coat, and hat of the Amish. Paul hurried toward the cattle gate, not sure if it was Luke or Matthew coming toward him. He knew no other Amish person who would come see him.

  As Paul opened the gate, the man lifted his head.

  Luke.

  Although his jaw was set as the horse trod through the snow and muck of the back fields, he didn’t look as downtrodden as he had yesterday. The horse slowed its pace as they approached. “Whoa.” Luke brought the horse to a stop.

  “We heard from her.” He exhaled, causing billows of vapor to disperse into the cold air.

  Paul drew a deep breath, taking in the heavens. Thank You.

  Luke’s laughter caught Paul’s attention. “You should see Mary. Just knowing Hannah was somewhere safe brought some color to her face and relief to her eyes.”

  “Who spoke with her?”

  “No one. The phone is in a shanty some sixty feet from the Yoders’ house, so nobody heard it ring. But they have an answering machine, and she left a message.”

  “What did she say?”

  Luke rode the horse through the opening. “Not much. I mean, she said she’s fine and safe. She has a place to stay and someone helping her. That’s about it.”

  Songs of praise silently ran through Paul’s mind as he closed the gate. “Did she leave a number where she can be reached?”

  “No.” Luke slid off the horse, his smile fading. “She didn’t leave any information about where she is. But she sounded good, hopeful, and at the same time really tired.”

  The inward songs faded, like a radio being turned down, as he realized there was no way to reach Hannah. “Can I go to the phone shanty and see if we can do anything to get the number she called from?”

  A look of concern covered Luke’s face. He pulled the loose ends of the reins through his hands several times. He slapped the leather against his palms, clearly mulling over what to do.

  Paul waited, hoping he didn’t have to figure out how to talk Luke into something he was set against.

  Luke patted the horse’s neck. “I don’t like the idea of taking you to the Yoders’ phone. If we’re seen together, it won’t help my position within the community any
. I’ve risked being seen with you once, and I’m gonna need the bishop’s approval over some things.” He studied Paul. “But I’ve been right where you are, so concerned about Mary I thought I’d die. I can’t imagine not knowing where she was or not being able to hear her voice.” Luke shrugged. “Even when she’s mad as a wet hen at me.”

  “I’d settle for Hannah’s wrath over this.”

  “Good. ’Cause I figure when she does come back, she’ll have been stripped of her somewhat-restrained self, and you’ll definitely catch it.”

  They both laughed.

  Luke nodded toward his harness shop, some hundred feet off of Paul’s property, and to the small barn beside it. “Come on. Let’s put her away for a spell and then use your truck to get back to Mary’s. But when we get there, we gotta make it quick. I just hope news of us being together doesn’t make it back to the bishop. Mary and I don’t need him mad at us.”

  “I thought you and Mary were in everyone’s good graces.”

  “We are as good as can be, considering the stench of trouble he had with my sister. But we need his permission about something sort of private-like.” Luke shrugged, looking reluctant to say more.

  Grateful that Luke was less like his father and more like his sister when it came to hearing and responding to the needs of those around him, Paul fell into step beside him.

  Paul walked back into his gram’s house. He’d heard Hannah’s voice on the answering machine, and that was wonderful. But after exhausting every possible way he knew to get the number she had called from, he had come home empty-handed.

  Added to that letdown, the message from her was in their first language, the only one they spoke among themselves: Pennsylvania Dutch. Paul longed to hear her speak words he could understand. If he were like most of his branch of Mennonites, he’d speak the native tongue too. But both sets of his grandparents had been Mennonite missionaries in other countries and hadn’t taught their children Pennsylvania Dutch, so neither of his parents spoke the language.