“I still can’t believe I agreed to do this,” Mike grumbled as he parked his car in front of a small cream-colored house in Pinecraft, bearing the address his wife had given him. A few other cars were parked there, along with a motorcycle. I wonder who rides that, he thought as he stepped down from his SUV. I can’t believe anyone who rides a bike would be interested in quilts. Maybe it’s some poor guy whose wife talked him into coming here like me. Well, here goes nothing.
Mike tromped up the porch steps and knocked on the door. A few minutes later, an Amish man with a head full of thick, gray hair and a matching beard greeted him. “May I help you?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m here for the quilt class.”
The man’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“I’m here for the quilt class. This is the right place, isn’t it?” Mike questioned.
“Well, yes, we are holding a quilt class here today, but it’s the second class, and we weren’t expecting any new students.”
“I don’t think you understand.” Mike tapped his foot impatiently. “I’m here to take my wife’s place in the class.”
“Who is your wife?”
“Phyllis Barstow. I’m her husband, Mike.”
“I’m Lamar Miller.” He extended his hand. “My wife, Emma, and I met Phyllis last week when she came for the first lesson.”
“Well, she won’t be back,” Mike said. “Her sister broke her leg, and Phyllis went to Fargo, North Dakota, to take care of her. She asked me to come here in her place and learn how to quilt.” And I stupidly said yes, he silently added.
“Oh, I see.” Lamar opened the door wider. “Come inside, and I’ll introduce you to my wife and the others in our class.”
As Mike stepped into the house, he caught sight of a small gecko skirting along the baseboard. He didn’t pay it much mind, knowing the critter was harmless and good for catching bugs.
Mike’s thoughts shifted when he followed Lamar into a room where four women sat at sewing machines, while an Amish woman and a bald, older man were seated at a table in the center of the room.
“Everyone, this is Phyllis Barstow’s husband, Mike,” Lamar announced. “Phyllis had to go to North Dakota to help her sister who has a broken leg, so Mike’s here to take her place.”
The Amish woman smiled and rose from her chair. “I’m sorry Phyllis won’t be able to complete the class, but it’s nice that you can be here to learn how to quilt.”
“Yeah, I can hardly wait,” Mike muttered under his breath.
“My name is Emma Miller, and these are the quilt squares your wife cut out last week,” Emma said, handing Mike a plastic sack. “We are in the process of stitching the squares together now, and I’d be happy to help you with that.”
“It’s a good thing, too, ’cause I don’t know the first thing about sewing,” Mike said, wondering once more why he’d agreed to do this. It wasn’t likely that he would learn anything he could show Phyllis when she returned. He’d probably make a mess of her wall hanging.
Emma smiled. “It’s okay. I’m here to teach you, Mike, and we’re glad to have you in our class.”
Lamar nodded in agreement.
“I’m not sure I’m even teachable.” Mike swiped at the trickle of sweat rolling down the side of his head. “Now give me a fishing pole, some bait, and a hook, and I’m good to go, but I’m not the least bit comfortable with a needle and thread.”
The baldheaded man at the table chuckled. “Well, you’re in good company then, because other than appreciating the beauty of quilts, I don’t know anything about sewing, either.”
After Emma introduced each of the students to Mike, he took a seat at the table between her and B.J. He was about to take Phyllis’s quilt squares out of the bag he’d been given, when the older woman, Noreen, let out an ear-piercing scream.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, scrunching her brows.
“Look…over there!” Noreen, her eyes wide with obvious fear, pointed to the wall closest to her. “Get it! Get it! I can’t stand creepy-crawlies in the house.”
“If someone will help me corner the critter, I think we can catch him pretty quick,” Lamar said, moving toward the gecko.
Mike, being the sportsman that he was, jumped up right away. “No problem. I bet I can catch him,” he hollered as he took up the chase.
After Lamar and Mike pursued the gecko unsuccessfully, B.J. got into the act. “Come back here,” he panted, red-faced and gasping for breath as the gecko eluded his grasp and slithered up the wall. The poor man looked exhausted. Winded and coughing, he finally had to quit.
“Are you okay?” Noreen asked, a look of concern etched on her face.
“I—I’m fine. Just a bit winded is all.” B.J. flopped into a chair. “Guess that’s proof that I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Mike made another pass at the gecko, but missed again and fell on his face.
“Maybe I can help.” Kim dashed across the room and quickly snagged the critter in the palm of her hand. Everyone but the girl in the wheelchair cheered.
Mike clambered to his feet a bit too quickly and had to steady himself until a wave of dizziness passed. He was embarrassed that he’d made a fool of himself in front of the class, but figured the wooziness had been caused by jerking his head too fast while in hot pursuit of the gecko. Mike had the strength and agility to reel in a big fish when he went out on his boat, but he couldn’t even catch a little lizard. And to be shown up by a woman, no less! He really felt like an idiot. This was not a good way to begin his first quilting class, and he could only imagine how the next hour would go.
C
HAPTER 11
After Kim put the gecko outside, the class continued, and the topic of the alligator that had been in the Millers’ yard came up again.
“I still can’t get over that,” Kim said, sitting down at the sewing machine beside Erika once more. “A little gecko is one thing, but I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been in your shoes, Lamar. Think I would have run straight for the house, screaming all the way.”
“I’d have probably passed out on the lawn,” Noreen put in as she finished up with her bit of sewing.
“Back home all we ever had to deal with was my goat, Maggie, getting out of her pen.” Emma chuckled. “I guess here we need to be a little more careful when we step into the yard.”
“Most gators don’t show up in people’s backyards unless there’s a body of water nearby,” Mike said as he laid out the quilt squares his wife had cut the previous week.
That guy seems like a know-it-all to me, Kim thought as she continued helping Erika by pressing on the foot pedal for her. I don’t think he really wants to be here, either. But then neither does Erika, so that has to make it hard on our teachers.
“I just thought of something,” Emma said, coming up beside Erika and Kim. “What if we put the foot pedal for the electric sewing machine up on the cabinet next to the machine? Then, Erika, you can press down on it with your elbow, which would give you both hands free to guide your material under the presser foot.”
“That’s a good idea,” Kim said before Erika could respond. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.”
“I—I guess I could give it a try,” Erika said, with a dubious expression.
As Emma placed the foot pedal on the cabinet and showed Erika what to do, Kim began pinning her own quilt squares together, while glancing over at Jennifer. The young woman seemed nice and was eager to learn how to quilt. Jennifer didn’t say a lot, though, and Kim wondered if she was shy or just didn’t have much to talk about.
If I was in her place and expecting a baby, that would be all I talked about, Kim mused. At the age of thirty-six, she’d all but given up on marriage and having a family of her own. Oh, she’d dated a few men over the years, but none had been willing to make a commitment, and a few she’d broken up with because she knew they weren’t good husband material. Most of the men she’d gone out with were ei
ther selfish, had nothing in common with her, or wanted more than she was willing to offer. Kim had made a pledge when she was a teenager to remain pure and give herself only to the man she would marry. But since marriage and children probably weren’t in her future, she’d put her focus on other things—riding her motorcycle, walking her dog on the beach, and being cheerful to all her customers at the restaurant.
Kim’s thoughts were interrupted when Emma touched her shoulder and asked, “How’s it going?”
“Okay, I guess. It just takes awhile to get all the squares pinned in place.”
“That’s true,” Emma agreed, “but once you get the blocks sewn together, your wall hanging will start to take shape.”
Kim sighed. “I’ve been trying to decide what to do with it after I’m done.”
“I’m going to hang mine in my living room,” Noreen said. “I know just the place for it, too.”
“Mine’s going in the baby’s room,” Jennifer spoke up. “That’s why I chose pastel colors in shades of pink.”
“Does that mean you’re having a girl?” Noreen questioned.
“Yes. At least that’s what the ultrasound showed.” Jennifer’s shoulders drooped. “I just hope my husband finds a job before the baby comes.”
“What does he do for a living?” This question came from B.J.
“He’s a cook, and a mighty fine one, too.” Jennifer smiled. “The only good thing about Randy being out of work is that now he cooks most of our meals. I’d gladly take that responsibility over again, though, if he could only find a job.”
Kim was glad Jennifer was opening up, but she felt sorry for the young mother-to-be. Maybe there were some benefits in being single. At least she only had to worry about supporting herself and taking care of her dog.
“I’m thankful that someone gave me the gift of this class,” Jennifer went on to say. “I just wish I knew who it was so I could thank them for it.” She looked over at Emma with a hopeful expression. “Do you know who it was?”
Emma adjusted her head covering, which was slightly askew. “The person who paid for your class wishes to remain anonymous and said they felt it was more of a blessing to keep it that way.”
“Someone left a box of food on our front porch the other day, too, and there was no note attached,” Jennifer said. “I’m beginning to see that God is providing for Randy and me in many ways.”
“We’ll be praying for you, dear,” Emma said. “Try to keep a positive attitude while waiting for God to provide your husband a job.”
As Noreen worked at the sewing machine, she was glad that she had something to do. She’d felt a little foolish, making such a fuss about the lizard—especially after thinking about that big alligator in Emma and Lamar’s backyard. She would have had a conniption, seeing such a creature anywhere close to her home.
Noreen’s mind drifted to the envelope that had come in this morning’s mail. She’d been hoping to hear from her son, Todd, or his wife, Kara, but guessed they were busy with their lives in Texas, because the letter wasn’t from them. She understood that Todd and Kara had busy lives of their own, but she missed them and would have gone to visit more often but didn’t want to intrude.
Two years after Noreen married her husband, Ben, and they’d found out they couldn’t have children of their own, they’d been given the opportunity to adopt Todd. What a wonderful life they’d had raising their boy. All those years when Todd was growing up, they had been a threesome, doing so many things together—simple things like camping, fishing, and going on picnics. They’d also enjoyed going to some of the local festivals every year. Of all the fun things to do at festivals, Todd usually went for the pony rides. In fact, from a very young age, he’d been interested in horses. To follow his dreams, after graduating from high school, he’d gone to Texas to stay with a friend, where he’d learned about ranching. Eventually he’d married Kara, and they’d been living in Texas ever since, working on the ranch where they’d met. In addition to their ranch duties, they had Kara’s boys, Nolan, who was ten, and Garrett, age twelve, to raise.
After Ben died, Noreen had felt totally alone, especially given that they had been married for forty years, but she didn’t want to burden her son or make him feel obligated to her. She wanted Todd and his wife to pursue their dream of someday owning their own ranch. So Noreen decided to move forward, pushing herself to learn how to cope with living alone. It was hard at first, but she made it a point to get on with her life. She had been a teacher for all those years and used to give her students pep talks when they seemed fearful about their future. Now it was her turn to give herself a pep talk. After all, she wasn’t the only woman in the world who’d lost her husband.
Thinking back to the letter she’d received this morning, Noreen was glad it hadn’t been a piece of junk mail, like she so often found in her mailbox. Instead, the return address revealed it was from Monica Adams, a former student. Every now and then Noreen received notes from students letting her know what was happening in their lives. She’d put off opening Monica’s note until later today so she wouldn’t be late to class.
“Is everyone ready to take a break for some refreshments?” Emma’s question broke into Noreen’s thoughts. She glanced at her watch and realized it was already eleven o’clock.
“I made some coffee cake, and Lamar picked oranges from our tree in the backyard this morning,” Emma said, smiling at the class.
“Both sound good to me,” Noreen said, putting her sewing away, while several others bobbed their heads in agreement. Not Mike, though. He sat there, wrinkling his nose.
“I’m allergic to oranges,” Mike informed Emma. “So I’ll pass on those. Sure don’t want to break out with a case of hives.”
“No, that wouldn’t be good,” Emma said. “Would you like some of my coffee cake, though?”
Mike nodded eagerly. “That suits me just fine. I didn’t have much for breakfast this morning so I’m feelin’ kinda hungry right now.” He rose from his chair to follow Emma into the kitchen, thinking he might get to taste some of that cake before anyone else. But he’d only taken a few steps when he felt kind of shaky and broke out in a sweat.
“Oh, great, not this again,” Mike groaned, grabbing the back of B.J.’s chair as everything blurred before him. He’d felt this way when he’d first woken up this morning and figured he might be coming down with the flu. He’d felt better once he’d had a cup of coffee and a doughnut, however.
“Are you okay?” Lamar asked, taking hold of Mike’s arm. “Is it too hot in here? Should I open a window or door?”
“No, I’m fine. Just feeling a little woozy is all.”
Lamar quickly pulled out an empty chair and instructed Mike to sit down. “Try to relax and take some deep breaths. I’ll open a window to let in some fresh air. Hopefully, that will help you cool down.”
Mike did as Lamar suggested. As he sat, fanning his face with his hands, while blinking his eyes to clear them, he could only imagine what Phyllis would say if she knew what was happening to him right now.
What is happening to me? Mike wondered. I felt fine when I first got here, except for feeling a bit woozy when I got out of the car. Why do I feel so horrible now? Are these spells a warning of some kind?
C
HAPTER 12
Should we call 911?” Noreen asked, concerned about Mike’s strange behavior. “You might be having a heart attack.” She remembered too well how her husband had collapsed on the floor of their living room when his heart gave out. And even though she’d called for help, and they’d performed surgery at the hospital, it had been too late for Ben. She hated to think that might be the case with this man, too.
Mike shook his head determinedly. “There’s no need for that. I feel a little weak and shaky is all, but I’m sure I’ll be okay once I have something to eat.”
“It might be a case of low blood sugar,” Erika spoke up. “I’ve heard my dad talk about patients who’ve actually passed out when their blood sug
ar dropped, mostly because they hadn’t eaten. You oughta make an appointment with your doctor and have it checked out.”
Mike flapped his hand. “Don’t think there’s any need for that. I’m sure it’ll pass.”
Men can be so stubborn, Noreen thought. I’ll bet if Mike’s wife was here, she would insist that he see a doctor today.
“Erika’s right,” Lamar said, “but in the meantime, I’ll get Emma, and we’ll see that you get something to eat.” He hurried into the kitchen, as Mike continued to breathe deeply, while keeping his head between his knees.
“We have a problem in the other room,” Lamar said when he entered the kitchen where Emma stood at the counter cutting the coffee cake.
Emma turned to face him. “What kind of problem? Is someone having trouble with one of the sewing machines?”
Lamar shook his head. “Mike isn’t feeling well. Said he felt shaky, and he’s sweating profusely. I was afraid he might pass out so I opened some windows and had him sit down to rest.”
“Oh dear! We’d better call for help right away.” Emma moved quickly across the room, where the telephone sat on the roll-top desk. At a time such as this, she was glad the Amish were allowed to have electricity and telephones in their homes here in Pinecraft.
Lamar stepped between Emma and the desk. “Mike doesn’t want us to call for help. He thinks he just needs to eat something, and Erika mentioned, too, that it could be a drop in his blood sugar.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then some cake might help.” Emma handed the platter to Lamar, then she grabbed some paper plates and forks and followed him into the other room. Immediately she cut a piece of cake and offered it to Mike.
“Thanks,” he said, quickly wolfing it down. “Boy, that sure tasted good. And you know what? Think I’m feelin’ better already. A little food was probably all I needed.”
“I’ll bet it’s your blood sugar, alright,” Erika said, nodding her head. “Eating something sweet brought it up real quick. If you find out you have hypoglycemia it could turn to diabetes, and of course, you’ll have to watch what you eat.”
The Healing Quilt Page 7