The Amish Seamstress

by Mindy Starns Clark

  I picked up the afghan that had fallen to the floor and spread it over Klara as Alexander adjusted her head on the pillow. Then he knelt by her side and they spoke quietly to each other.

  “She needs to see a doctor,” I whispered to Ada. I was surprised when she merely shrugged.

  “I’ll call Marta and get her to stop by, but I don’t think we’ll need to do more than that. Mamm has seen doctors for this before. It’s a herniated disc that flares up sometimes. There’s not much they can do unless it gets really, really bad, but she’s not to that point yet.”

  We both looked at Klara, who was still speaking softly with Alexander.

  Ada turned and moved toward the kitchen. She came back a moment later with an ice pack from the freezer.

  “You know the routine,” she said to Klara, in the same voice she sometimes used with the twins or little Abe. “Ice and rest and ibuprofin and gentle stretching. No stress, no lifting, no bending…” Her voice trailed off as she helped slide the ice pack under the middle of Klara’s back.

  “She’s right,” Alexander said. “And no tree climbing or cattle herding, either,” he added, a twinkle in his eye.

  Ada stood up straight, hands on her hips. “Ya. No marathons, no hopscotch, and absolutely no break dancing.”

  I doubted Klara even knew what break dancing was, but she chuckled just the same. So did Ada and her father, though the girls didn’t crack a smile. Instead, they just stood there, off to the side, holding hands, looking at their grandmother with wide eyes and trembling lips.

  Klara wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type, so I was surprised when she opened her arms to the two children. Instantly, they rushed forward and then stopped to carefully settle themselves into her embrace.

  “I’m really okay,” she told them, patting their backs. “Please don’t worry.”

  Ada reached out and patted Mat’s back as well. “Mammi Klara’s a tough old bird, don’t you know that?”

  When they didn’t respond, Klara looked around, slightly embarrassed, and said, “Want to see what I did to my stockings?”

  At that, they both pulled back, nodding, so at Klara’s request Ada gently moved the afghan aside and then slid her mother’s skirt up just above her knee, revealing a giant tear in her black stockings. Where the skin was exposed, there was a welt, red and swollen and angry looking, with tinges of purple already showing around the edges.

  “You need ice for that too,” I said. I went to the kitchen and retrieved another pack from the freezer.

  When I returned, I paused there in the doorway, taking in the sweet family scene. Despite Klara’s pain, I could feel the warmth of this moment, especially when she and Ada finally got the girls to giggle somehow.

  I handed the ice pack to Ada, who put it in place on her mother’s leg. Then I gave a nod to Alexander and slipped out of the room, glad to know all was well.

  My happy glow ended when I entered the daadi haus, however, and noticed immediately that Frannie’s breathing had changed. It was much more labored than before, and her complexion had grown paler too. I checked her pulse and respiration. Both had increased.

  “Frannie.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  She stirred a little.

  I raised the bed, thinking that perhaps a sitting position would help.

  She opened her eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “Just tired.”

  “Do you feel short of breath? Light-headed?”

  She started to shake her head but then stopped. “I think I’m all right. Maybe a little dizzy.”

  “Okay, let me talk to Ada and see what we can do.”

  “Ada? Is she here? I haven’t seen her in so long.”

  “Ya,” I answered as I tucked her blanket in closer.

  “She’s my granddaughter. A lovely girl.”

  I didn’t reply except to say that I’d be gone for just a minute. I hurried to the door and then out into the chilly afternoon, my hand pressed atop my kapp to keep it down in the wind. As I neared the back door, it swung open, and Ada stepped out, wrapped in her cape.

  “Oh, Izzy, you scared me. I was just going to the barn to give Aunt Marta a call. I’m sure my mamm is fine, but it wouldn’t hurt to get her checked out, just to be safe.”

  I nodded, shivering. Gusts blew against me, whipping my dress against my legs. “Tell her I need her out in the daadi haus too. And to bring her stethoscope.”

  Ada’s eyes widened.

  Trying to keep my voice calm, I added, “It’s okay. I just want her to listen to Frannie’s lungs.”

  “I don’t think it’s pneumonia,” Marta said. “But there’s definitely something going on.” She handed the earpieces of the stethoscope to me. “Listen.”

  I did.

  “Do you hear the rattle?”

  I nodded. “Sounds like extra fluid in there.” I took the earpieces out.

  “Right. It could be pulmonary edema. Her heart could be failing.”

  I knew what that was.

  “Do you have pain in your chest wall?” Marta asked her mother.

  Frannie shook her head.

  Marta turned to me. “No cough? Or mucus?”

  I shook my head.

  “I have a mother in labor, so it might be a while before I can get back here.” She handed me the stethoscope. “I have a second one. Why don’t you hang onto this one so you can keep tabs on her?”

  “Danke,” I said, motioning toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

  I grabbed my cape at the door and followed Marta onto the porch. “What should I do if she gets worse? I assume she’ll need to go back to the hospital.”

  Marta surprised me by shaking her head no. “They won’t do anything there but keep her comfortable. We can do that much better here.”

  “But if she’s ill—”

  “Izzy,” Marta said, looking me in the eye. “My mamm has an advanced directive. It’s about palliative care at this point. If something happens, let Alexander know—and call me, of course—but otherwise just keep her comfortable.”

  I nodded. I’d thought I was ready for this, but maybe I wasn’t.

  “Don’t look so sad,” Marta said. “Remember, she is weak and ready to go. She doesn’t want to be saved only to suffer more. Death is as much a part of life as birth. It can be just as beautiful a transition.”

  I’d never seen a birth so I wasn’t sure exactly what Marta meant, but I had seen a death—and there wasn’t anything beautiful about it at all.

  Not long after she left, a soft knock fell on the door. “Come in,” I called out. The door opened slowly, and Alexander stepped inside, his hat in one hand.

  “You have a letter,” he said, extending an envelope toward me.

  I stepped over and took it from him. “Danke,” I said, knowing already from the handwriting that it was from Zed.

  “How’s Mamm?”

  “Hanging in there,” I said. “How’s Klara?”

  “Ornery,” he replied, but by the smile in his eyes, I could tell he wasn’t complaining.

  Once he headed back out to work, I opened the envelope as I returned to my chair at the side of the bed and sat down. This was the first letter I’d received from Zed since I’d left Indiana, and my heart was in my throat as I began to read.

  Hey, Izzy Bear,

  Hope turkey day was good for you. I forgot what a difference it makes when Ella is the one cooking the big feast. I think I ate enough dressing and mashed potatoes to feed a small country.

  Been thinking on the film some more. So far Abigail’s story is way more interesting than NGGH’s. If we can figure out the rest of what happened with her and her family, we may end up wanting to focus more on her instead of him. So keep digging!

  I felt a surge of irritation at his words. Of course I would keep digging, movie or not. They were my ancestors. I had to know what happened to turn them against the Indians and then what convinced them to repe
nt of that a year later. I kept reading.

  If I do base the movie on Abigail, I’ll most likely give the part to my friend Shelly—yeah, that Shelly. Sorry, I know she wasn’t exactly kind to you, but she’s just such an amazing actress, I hate not to take advantage of that.

  I stopped. Blinked. Read that line again. Then I stood and crumpled the paper into a ball and flung it across the room.

  How dare he? Shelly? To play my ancestor?

  He could forget it, that was for sure. I didn’t want to see my own family featured in some stupid documentary if she was involved—much less if she was the star!

  My heart pounding, I began to pace around the tiny room. As I did, I was thankful Frannie was asleep and that no one else was around to see.

  The nerve. The absolute nerve.

  I paced some more, willing my heart to stop pounding, my eyes returning again and again to the balled-up wad of paper on the floor. Finally, I retrieved it and returned to my chair, smoothing it open again onto my lap. I couldn’t help it. I had to know what other wonderful bits of news he had chosen to share. Like maybe he’d gotten her name tattooed to his chest or put a down payment on a honeymoon for them.

  I started reading again.

  Anyway, we can talk about all of this when I get home, which will probably be on the 13th or 14th. I found a ride as far as Pittsburgh, but that’s not close enough. Ella wants me to drive my car so she can come along and see Mammi. It’s not a bad idea. At least we could split the gas that way, which would help me afford it. But I just don’t know if Ol’ Red will make it all the way there and back or not. I guess we’ll decide in the next few days. Maybe you can check with my mom and ask what the final plan is.

  Can’t wait to see you. Lots to talk about, as always. Mom says you’re doing a great job there with Mammi. Thanks again for doing it, and hang in there. Reinforcements will be arriving with the cavalry!

  Zed

  I refolded the wrinkled letter and placed it back in the envelope and then into my apron pocket for safekeeping, thinking how hard it was to stay mad at someone who was otherwise so adorable.

  As I sat staring at Frannie but thinking about Zed, Marta returned from checking on Klara.

  “She’s sore, but I think she’s going to be fine. More ice and rest should do it.” Marta came to a stop at the end of the bed.

  I told her I had just received a letter from Zed, but at the time he’d written, he wasn’t positive if he’d be driving or not. “Do you know if a final decision has been made?”

  Marta smiled broadly, something I hadn’t seen her do often. “Yes. They’ll be here Sunday. Ella’s coming too.”

  “You think his car will make it?”

  Marta chuckled. “Now it will. Luke offered to cover the cost of getting it checked out by a mechanic and fixed if necessary.”

  “I bet Zed appreciated that.”

  “I’m sure he did, but Luke didn’t do it for him. He just didn’t want his pregnant wife to end up stranded in the middle of Ohio.”

  Clearly, Marta adored her son-in-law. “As it turned out, all Zed needed was a new belt.” Marta seemed as if she was trying to hide her amusement. “It was an easy fix and the car is fine.”

  The thought of Zed coming home both thrilled me and made me nervous. I knew he had to be back at school by the second week of January. That would give us three weeks. Just twenty-one days for him to open his eyes and see that he loved me.

  “I can’t believe how things are coming together for everyone,” Marta continued. “Lexie’s flight gets in on Saturday morning, and even Giselle is talking about getting here Saturday night.”

  “Really? She is coming, all the way from Switzerland? Frannie will be thrilled.”

  Marta nodded and then put a finger to her lips. “Not a word yet, though. To be honest, my sister can be a bit…uh…flaky. We’ll tell Mamm only if and when Giselle has actually reserved a flight and bought herself a ticket.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  By the next morning, Frannie seemed to have rallied somewhat. Her color was better, and I could no longer hear the rattle in her lungs when I listened with the stethoscope.

  She also seemed less confused than she had the day before, not to mention more talkative. She wanted to know about everyone’s comings and goings, so as we waited for the water for her Cream of Wheat to boil, I caught her up as best I could. I explained Lexie would be flying in on Saturday from Oregon, and Zed and Ella would get here the day after that.

  “Ella? Really? Do you think she’ll be okay to travel?”

  I nodded. “She still has eight weeks to go, so Marta said she would be fine.”

  Frannie closed her eyes, a smile illuminating her features.

  “James can’t get off of work until the following week, so he’s planning to fly out on the twenty-first.”

  “Oh, how lovely,” she said, her eyes opening again. “That means he’ll be here for Christmas.”

  I nodded, smiling at the thought. I’d never met James, but I had heard wonderful things about him from both Zed and Ella.

  “How about Luke?” she asked.

  “I think he’s hoping to come around the same time. I know it’s not easy to leave a farm, but his brother lives right next door and can take over while he’s gone. He really wants to come. And I know he would never want to spend Christmas away from Ella’s side.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  I nodded.

  “And Giselle?” she asked finally, her eyes full of hope.

  I couldn’t out-and-out lie to her, so I hesitated and then said, simply, “As far as I know, she hasn’t yet bought a ticket.” But then, feeling guilty for not telling her the whole truth, that Giselle really was planning to come, I jumped up and went to the stove to attend to her cereal.

  “We must convince her to come,” Frannie said from her bed as I stirred the grains into the pot of bubbling water. “I’ll pay for the plane ticket myself, if need be.”

  I still couldn’t look Frannie in the eye, so once the Cream of Wheat was cooking, I wet a clean dishcloth and wiped down the counter and table.

  “This sounds really important to you,” I said, noncommittally.

  “It is. It truly is. It’s hard to explain why, exactly. It’s not that there’s anything I want to say to her. If that’s all it was, I suppose I could do that over the phone. It’s just that I want to see her. More than that I want to hold her. And I want her to know how much I love her.”

  Tears filled my eyes at the thought, especially when she added, “I haven’t seen my daughter’s face, in person, for twenty-eight years.”

  “Oh, my,” I managed to say, blinking my tears away as I moved to the sink and rinsed out the cloth. “You’re right. I think it would be good if she came too.”

  After I’d finished feeding Frannie and getting her ready for the day, Marta stopped by, clearly upset. I stepped to the end of the bed so she could sit in the chair.

  “You’ll never believe what Klara did!” she said, speaking both to me and to her mother.

  Frannie’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “She called Giselle and told her to think twice about coming. That she didn’t think it was what was best for you.”

  Frannie sat up in the bed, the first time I’d seen her do so voluntarily for days. “No! That’s not true! I want Giselle to come—desperately so.”

  Marta patted her mother’s arm till she lay back down. “Klara knows that.”

  “But Giselle doesn’t. Call her and I’ll tell her,” Frannie begged. “On your little phone. Right now. Right here.”

  “I will.” Marta pulled her cell phone from her pocket, dialed, and held it to her ear. It seemed like it rang for a long time but finally she said, “Gut-n-Owed!”

  It was evening there.

  Marta began speaking English after her greeting. I was surprised, but then I realized that Giselle may have forgotten much of her Pennsylvania Dutch without anyone over there to speak it with. And Marta would
n’t know the modern Swiss German that Giselle likely spoke now.

  “Mamm wants to talk with you,” Marta said into the phone and then paused. “No, I’m serious. She really does. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

  Marta stepped closer to Frannie as I stepped away from the bed, feeling as if I were intruding but too riveted to the scene to go far.

  Holding the phone in the air close to her mother, Marta said, “Okay, Mamm, go ahead and talk.”

  Frannie’s eyes widened. I suspected she didn’t speak on a phone very often. She said, softly, “Giselle, are you there?”

  “Ya,” the voice answered. “I’m here.” Her voice wasn’t soft at all, not like I imagined it would be. “But I can barely hear you.”

  Frannie squared her shoulders. “I’ll speak louder then.” She did, a little. “I want you to come home, Giselle. I need to see you. Don’t worry about what Klara says. She’s hesitant, is all.”

  Giselle laughed but didn’t say anything. Embarrassed, I retreated to the kitchen, listening as they continued.

  “Your sister will be fine once you’re here.”

  “She didn’t sound fine on the phone.”

  “Ach, she’s troubled sometimes, but it would do us all good for you to come over. It would do me good. I have money set aside for your airfare.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Mamm. I’m okay as far as finances.”

  “Well, then. We can talk about that when you come. Just make your arrangements soon.”

  “All right. I’ll think about it.”

  “Danke,” Frannie said with an exhale. I turned to see her leaning back against her pillow. “Let Marta know what you decide. And don’t listen to Klara anymore.”

  “Yes, I hear you.”

  “Gut.” She closed her eyes. “Tschüs.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at the sweet, informal goodbye.

  “Tschüs,” Giselle replied.