The Cherished Quilt

by Amy Clipston

  “He left!” Emily cried, her whole body trembling. “Chris went back to Ohio today and he didn’t even say good-bye to me. He’s gone!” She leaned her head against the wall and dissolved into tears, hugging her arms against her aching chest as grief spilled out of her.

  “Ach, no!” Mamm exclaimed.

  Her mother’s arms pulled her into a warm embrace, and she buried her face in her mother’s shoulder as sobs racked her to her very core. A door clicked shut somewhere close by and then footsteps entered the kitchen.

  “Is she all right?” Dat’s question was soft and tender.

  Emily could feel Mamm’s head move from side to side as a silent response.

  “Ach, no.” His voice was closer.

  A strong hand caressed her stiff back. It was Dat’s hand, and the gesture warmed her soul. Oh, she was so grateful for her supportive parents.

  When the tears subsided, she wiped her eyes with a napkin Mamm handed her. As she blew her nose, both of her parents looked at her with worried faces.

  Mamm pointed to a kitchen chair. “Sit.”

  Emily complied, and Dat sat down beside her as Mamm brought her a glass of water. Emily took a long drink, but the water did little to soothe her parched throat. Dat rubbed her shoulder, and the pain in his dark eyes was enough to make Emily sob all over again.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mamm finally said, coming to sit down across from her. “Did he say why he left?”

  Dat told her about the fire, and Mamm shook her head.

  “I understand that he wants to help his bruder,” Emily began, her words soft and thin, “but why didn’t he say good-bye? Why didn’t he tell me he was going to leave? Did our friendship mean nothing—” Her voice hitched, and she stopped speaking, afraid she’d start crying again.

  “Ach, mei liewe,” Dat said. “Maybe he was afraid to face you.”

  Emily looked at her father. She’d never seen him so emotional. It was as if Dat could feel her pain. Was that what it felt like to be a parent?

  “Why would he be afraid to face me?” Emily asked. “We were freinden.”

  Dat sighed as he continued to massage her shoulder. “I think it’s more complicated than that. Sometimes people don’t know how to handle their emotions, and instead of facing things head-on, they run and hide.”

  He looked at Mamm, and something imperceptible seemed to pass between them. It was as if they were having a silent discussion with their eyes. But Emily dismissed her curiosity as more tears filled her eyes.

  “Chris’s behavior doesn’t make sense. I thought we were close. I was certain he cared about me. He said he did.” A dull ache started behind her eyes and her lip trembled.

  But then guilt squeezed her lungs. She had no right to try to keep Chris from his family, but she longed for him to have told her he was leaving. His running off without a word made her feel insignificant.

  “Would you like something to eat?” Mamm offered. “How about a sandwich or maybe some tea?”

  Emily’s stomach roiled. “No, danki.”

  Mamm went to the sink anyway, filled the kettle, and placed it on the stove. Somehow Mamm always knew what her daughters needed even when they protested.

  “Emily.” Dat angled his body toward her. “I know you’re hurting, sweetie, and I’m so sorry about that. If I could take away your pain, I would.” His voice hitched, and tears threatened Emily’s eyes again. Seeing her father this emotional was almost too much for her. He’d always been a pillar of strength for each of his daughters.

  Dat continued. “I think the reason he’s so confused is that he’s going through some complicated issues with his family. Maybe Chris feels he needs to go home to not only help his bruder but also work things out with his dat.” He paused and rubbed Emily’s arm. “I know this is difficult for you, but I believe you should give him a little bit of time. Don’t give up on him yet.”

  Emily worried her lip. “Do you really think he cares about me?”

  “Ya, he does care about you,” Mamm suddenly chimed in. “I could tell when you were together. Have faith.”

  Emily swallowed a groan. Why had she invested so much of herself in him?

  Dat touched Emily’s cheek. “The pain will go away, mei liewe. I know it hurts now, but it will get better. I promise, sweetie.”

  “Danki, Dat.” She forced a smile for his benefit. “You can go back to work now. I’m sorry I upset you.”

  “Ach, no, no, no,” he insisted. “You are much more important than my work. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and I’ll stay here as long as you need me.”

  She took a deep breath against the heavy weight forming inside her rib cage. “I’ll be fine.”

  “All right.” He turned toward Mamm and raised his eyebrows, as if asking her if she believed it was okay for him to leave. Mamm gave him a little nod, and he stood, looking at Emily again. “I’ll see you later. Come and get me if you need me, all right?”

  “I will. Danki, Dat.”

  He started for the door and Emily turned to Mamm just as the kettle began to whistle.

  “Let’s have tea,” Mamm said.

  As Mamm headed to the stove, Emily put her head in her hands and wondered if her splintered soul would ever heal.

  CHAPTER 22

  CHRIS’S STOMACH TWISTED AND HIS HANDS TREMBLED AS HE stepped out of the taxi and hefted his duffel bag back onto his shoulder Tuesday night. After the long and tedious bus ride, he’d finally arrived home. His shoulders and back stiffened as the taxi turned around and motored toward the main road. Chris looked over his shoulder and bit back the urge to run after the car and beg for a ride back to the bus station.

  Coward!

  Instead, he stood at the end of the rock driveway and stared dumbly at his parents’ house as the cold wind bit at his cheeks and nose. The sprawling, two-story white house boasted a generous wraparound porch and nearly a dozen windows. Although the grass was brown in the cold autumn weather, the fence surrounding his father’s two dozen acres of pasture was pristine and most likely recently painted.

  Everything looked the same as it had when he’d left. He’d only been gone for a month, but it felt as if he’d been gone for a year. So much had changed for Chris during those weeks. He had learned how to do leatherwork, and he’d fallen in love.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and his breath hitched in his chest. Emily had to know by now that he had left. Was she upset when she heard the news? What a stupid question. Of course she was upset. If he returned to Bird-in-Hand, she most likely would never speak to him again. He cringed as a poignant ache took hold of him, clenching his stomach even tighter.

  The front door to the house opened and Rosanna stepped onto the porch. Chris took a deep breath and started toward the house, his boots steering him down the rock driveway.

  “Chris?” Rosanna called. “Is that you?”

  He waved in response, and Rosanna stepped back into the house. He envisioned her announcing to the rest of the family that he was home. He braced himself for the welcome or for the rejection. What if no one but his mother wanted him back?

  “Chris!” Paul appeared on the porch and then jogged down the steps to meet Chris on the walkway. Paul was almost as tall as Chris, and his light brown hair and matching beard were the same color as Chris’s hair. But Paul’s eyes were blue like their mother’s.

  Sometimes Chris wished their differences ended there.

  “I didn’t know you were coming home today.” He gave Chris a hug, smacking him on the back and grinning. “It’s so gut to see you. How are you?”

  Chris held back a sigh of relief. “I’m all right.” He let his duffel bag drop to the ground with a thump. “Mamm called me Sunday and told me about the fire. I came as soon as I could. How is everyone?”

  “Christopher!”

  Chris’s eyes darted toward the porch and his heart squeezed as Mamm rushed toward him. Her eyes were watery as she held out her arms. He leaned down to her, and she pulled him into a warm e
mbrace. He was relieved to see her light brown hair was still threaded with only a few silver strands. He knew he had worried her.

  “I’m so thankful you’re home,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “My family is back together again.”

  Chris heaved a trembling sigh. “I want to help Paul.”

  Mamm cupped a hand to his cheek. “Danki for coming.” A tear trickled from one of her eyes, and Chris swallowed as a warm knot formed in his chest.

  “Onkel Chris!”

  Mamie hurried out of the house, followed by Rosanna, who had Betsy in her arms. Mamie reached him and held up her arms. Her brown hair hung to her shoulders in thin braids, and her brown eyes flashed with excitement. She reminded Chris of a mini version of Rosanna, coloring and all.

  Chris lifted her into his arms and a smile overtook his lips as his soul warmed. He adored Paul’s sweet girls. “Hi, Mamie.”

  “Welcome home.” Mamie kissed his cheek. “Mammi said she really missed you. We’re froh you’re back.”

  “Danki.” Oh, how he had missed this little girl.

  Rosanna touched his arm. “It’s gut to see you.”

  “Danki,” Chris said. “It’s gut to see you too.”

  Betsy clapped her hands. She looked like her mother too, but she had inherited Paul’s blue eyes.

  “Are you hungry?” Mamm took hold of Chris’s arm and tugged him toward the house. “Come inside. We have chicken potpie.”

  “One of your favorites, Chris.” Paul heaved Chris’s bag to his shoulder and started toward the house.

  Still holding Mamie in his arms, Chris allowed his mother to steer him up the steps and into the house. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but his stomach remained tight. Was Dat home, deliberately avoiding him?

  When they stepped into the foyer, Paul and Rosanna headed toward the kitchen. Mamie squirmed, and when Chris lowered her to the floor, she took off after her parents. Mamm held on to Chris’s arm, signaling for him to linger back by the door with her, giving them a little privacy.

  “I was hoping you’d come.” Mamm’s eyes were still misty but also sparkling with happiness. “Danki.”

  Chris’s intuition had been right; his family needed him. But his soul still ached for Emily.

  “Where’s Dat?” The moment he asked the question, he wanted to pull it back.

  Mamm frowned. “He’ll be down in a minute.”

  Ah. So Dat was avoiding him.

  He inhaled through his nose as doubt coursed through him. Nothing would ever change between Dat and him. Coming home was a mistake.

  No. You’re here for Paul, not Dat.

  “Just give him time.” Mamm squeezed Chris’s arm. “You both are stubborn, and one of you has to make an attempt to clear the air before you can work this out.”

  “He’s impossible to talk to,” Chris snapped, and Mamm blanched as if he’d struck her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

  “Chris,” Rosanna called from the kitchen. “I’m warming up your potpie. Would you like some bread? It’s still warm.”

  “That sounds fantastic,” he called back to her.

  “Let’s go to the kitchen, Christopher. We can talk later.”

  Chris followed Mamm into the kitchen, washed his hands at the sink, and then sat at his usual spot at the long table. It was obvious that they had all just finished eating when he arrived. He kissed his nieces good night before they went upstairs with Rosanna for a bath, and Paul sat down across from him. Mamm brought his food and then started clearing the table.

  The aroma of chicken potpie combined with freshly baked bread caused his stomach to gurgle. He hadn’t eaten since early that morning. After a silent prayer, he dug into the potpie, relishing the delicious taste.

  “So how was Pennsylvania?” Paul buttered a piece of bread for himself. “Mamm said you’ve been working in Onkel Hank’s harness shop.”

  “It was gut.” Chris took a piece of bread from the basket in the center of the table. “But I want to hear about your haus. How is the work going?”

  Paul set the bread on a napkin and rubbed his tired eyes. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s going all right. I’ve got a crew of men helping to take out the walls in the kitchen. We have to replace two of them. We’re going to get the kitchen rebuilt before we start painting upstairs. It’s going to be awhile.” He smirked. “The kinner are sleeping in your room, but we can move them if you want your bed back.”

  “No, no. It’s no trouble. I can sleep in the sewing room.” Chris buttered his own piece of bread.

  “You can sleep in Gabriel’s room,” Mamm said.

  Chris stilled for a moment and then looked up, meeting her gaze. “What did you say?”

  “Gabriel’s bedroom is the same as he left it.” To Chris’s surprise, Mamm’s face remained cordial, without any trace of bereavement. “I just have to put clean sheets on the bed, but that won’t take long at all. You should stay in there.”

  “No, thanks. I’d rather stay in the sewing room.” He couldn’t fathom sleeping in Gabriel’s bed when his grief was still so raw.

  Mamm’s brow creased. “But there’s only a single bed in there.”

  “It’s fine,” Chris said. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Rosanna can move the kinner to Gabriel’s room. It’s not a problem.” Paul shrugged.

  “I don’t want to put her through any trouble,” Chris said. “I’ll stay in the sewing room.”

  “Fine. It’s settled.” Mamm stood. “I’ll make the bed. When I get back, we can have cake and celebrate your return home. I’m so glad I baked a chocolate cake earlier. Now I know why I had the urge to make one. It was for you, Christopher. It will be your belated birthday cake.” She walked out of the kitchen humming, and Chris’s chest squeezed again.

  Paul met Chris’s gaze. “She’s so froh you’re back.”

  “Ya, I could tell.” Chris forked more of the potpie into his mouth. His whirling emotions left him feeling wrung out—as if he’d been forced through a wringer washer.

  “She told me she called to tell you about the fire, and she hoped you’d come and help.” Paul broke the piece of bread in half. “I appreciate that you’re here, but you really didn’t have to feel obligated to come back for me. You know the people in the community always pull together to help each other. We had it under control, and Mamm said you were froh in Pennsylvania.”

  “I wanted to come,” Chris insisted. “You’re mei bruder, and you would do the same for me.”

  “Ya, that’s true. Danki. Do you think you’ll go back to Bird-in-Hand, or are you here to stay?” Paul took a bite and chewed.

  Chris swallowed a forkful of potpie. “I don’t know.” His heart wanted him to hop on the next bus to get back to Emily, but his mind had accepted he would never be satisfied with being only her friend.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Chris looked up when he heard heavy footsteps in the hallway. He glanced toward the doorway as Dat appeared. He stood at a muscular six feet, and his dark hair and beard were streaked with gray.

  His hazel eyes assessed Chris from across the room. “Christopher. You’re home.”

  Chris gritted his teeth as he nodded a reply. In his peripheral vision, he saw Paul shoot him a warning glance.

  Dat looked at Chris a few more moments, and the air was thick with tension. Finally, Dat turned and disappeared from the doorway. His footfalls echoed as he continued back down the hallway.

  “Don’t let him get to you,” Paul said after Dat was gone. “Just give it time, and you two will eventually work things out.”

  Chris looked at his brother. How could he offer Chris any valuable advice when he had never done anything to disappoint Dat? He was sure Paul couldn’t fathom being branded a disgrace in their father’s eyes.

  “What?” Paul snatched another piece of bread from the basket. “Why are you looking at me as if I’ve sprouted a second nose?”

  “What makes you think Dat and I will
ever resolve our problems?” Chris placed his fork on the table next to his plate and leveled his gaze with his older brother’s. “You’ve always been Dat’s example of how the perfect son should behave. You’ve spent your entire adulthood enjoying Dat’s praise while I have lived in your shadow.”

  Paul gaped as Chris continued.

  “Dat has rubbed the fact that I can’t train a horse as well as you can in my face.” Chris spoke slowly to drive his point home. “He said I should try to be more like you so I can take over this farm someday. I always feel like a failure because I didn’t take to horse training like you did, and Gabriel’s death only deepened the rift between us.”

  Paul held up his hands to silence Chris. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “If you really want to help me, then tell me something I can do to make it better.” Chris held his breath as Paul stared at him. “That wasn’t rhetorical. I honestly don’t know what I can do to fix it.” He pointed toward the door. “You saw his reaction when he saw me. He’s not froh I’m back. He’s probably disappointed I didn’t stay away for gut.” He despised the tremor in his voice. Why did discussing his father always rip him apart inside?

  “You can’t possibly believe Dat doesn’t want you here with the rest of our family.” Paul’s blue eyes held sympathy. “We’re his sons, and we’re the only sons left.”

  Chris rubbed his chin as tears threatened his eyes.

  “Gabriel’s death was not your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself for that.” Paul paused, looking at Chris. “Is that the reason you left?”

  Chris looked down at his half-eaten potpie as guilt poured through him like a tidal wave. His hands trembled as he gripped his fork.

  “You can’t really believe it was your fault, no matter what Dat has said. I told him not to buy that awful horse, but he’s always so stubborn. He wanted to prove he could train it, but I knew he couldn’t. That horse never should’ve been in Dat’s stable. That horse killed Gabriel, and you didn’t.”