The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club - 02 - The Tattered Quilt

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Reflecting on all of this, Emma thought of Anna and how dissatisfied she seemed with her life. She hoped for Anna’s sake, as well as her parents’, that she wouldn’t decide to leave the Amish faith. When I get home, I’ll talk to Anna and her parents, she decided. They need to have more understanding where Anna is concerned, and Anna needs to appreciate her family. Maybe our story will open their eyes.

  “Let’s get your luggage put in my van, and we’ll be on our way to the nursing home,” Cheryl’s father said. “I’m sure you ladies are as anxious as Cheryl is to see Betty.”

  Shipshewana

  “Have you talked to Cheryl since we got back from our road trip?” Jan asked as he and Terry pulled into a gas station to fill up Jan’s truck.

  Terry shook his head. “I’ve tried leaving several messages, but she doesn’t respond. I even drove over to her apartment last night, but she wasn’t there.” He gripped the edge of his seat, fighting the sudden urge for a cigarette, which he hadn’t felt for several weeks. “Man, I hope Cheryl’s not mad at me.”

  “Why would she be mad?”

  “’Cause I left Emma’s early last Saturday without telling her why. I had hoped I could explain to her in person that I’d totally forgotten about the charity ride we’d planned. All I could think about was going to lunch with Cheryl again.” Terry heaved a sigh as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “My heart must be clogging my brain these days.”

  Jan opened the truck door. “Didn’t you say that Lamar told you Cheryl had gone to see her grandmother, whose health isn’t good?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Cheryl’s probably busy with things and hasn’t checked her messages.”

  “Maybe so.

  “Well, I’d better get the gas pumped or we’ll never get to our next job.”

  While Jan filled the gas tank, Terry pulled out his cell phone and tried calling Cheryl. All he got was her voice mail again. He left a message: “Hi, Cheryl, it’s Terry. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the last three days. Could you please call me back as soon as you get this message?”

  Los Angeles

  “What is this?” Mr. Lawrence asked, slamming the morning’s newspaper down on Carmen’s desk.

  “If you’re referring to my article, then it is what it is,” she said, meeting his steely gaze. Carmen wondered why she worked for this harsh, demanding man.

  “Of course I’m referring to your article!” He pointed a bony finger at the newspaper. “This was not written the way it was supposed to be, Ms. Lopez, and I can’t believe Mike let it be published in my absence.”

  “I wrote the truth as I saw it. Isn’t that what a good reporter is supposed to do?”

  His face reddened. “Humph! Just how much digging did you really do?”

  “I spoke to several Amish people while I was in Indiana and got to know some personally.”

  “You made those people sound like a bunch of saints.”

  Carmen shook her head vigorously. “I did not. I made them sound as they are—a kind, gentle people, who deal with their problems by relying on each other for support, while maintaining their strong moral values. They put God first in all things and hold their family members in high regard.” Carmen paused for a breath. “They live life simply and by their own choice, not because they’re forced to. Do they have problems? Certainly. But then don’t we all?”

  “That’s all fine, well, and good,” he said, leaning on the desk, “but an article like this isn’t sensational enough. I was hoping for something juicy and shocking, like the things we’ve heard on the news, where some Amish have gone bad.”

  Carmen’s jaw clenched. “So what you’re saying is, if one person, no matter what his nationality or faith, does something wrong, that makes all people of that group bad?”

  He shifted his stance. “Well, no, but—”

  “But you’re unhappy with me because I made this a positive article and not a negative one, is that right?”

  He nodded.

  Carmen took another deep breath. “I know a lot of readers out there want nothing more than to read about bad things happening to people. But with the way the world is these days, I believe many more people want to read about the good things that happen.”

  He opened his mouth, but Carmen rushed on. “Everyone has things going on in their own lives, and I know, at least for me, that I’d rather hear about pleasant things and noble situations. You know—something noteworthy. There are a lot of decent folks in the world, but for some reason, the majority of things we see on TV and read about in the paper dwell on the bad stuff that happens. If that’s what sells, then I’m not sure I want to be a part of it anymore.”

  “This newspaper is about selling papers, Carmen,” Mr. Lawrence reminded. “And my reporters will do whatever it takes to get good stories.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” She rose from her desk. “As of this moment, I’m turning in my resignation.”

  “Well, that’s good, because if you hadn’t quit, I would have fired you.”

  Breathing deeply to calm her nerves, Carmen forced a smile and said, “I’ll clean out my desk and be gone before the end of the day.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Portland

  A lump formed in Cheryl’s throat as she and her mother stood next to Grandma’s bed. Grandma’s eyes were closed, and she seemed unaware of their presence. It was quite warm in the room, but Grandma was covered with a blanket. Even so, Cheryl could see the outline of her body, which looked small and fragile. It was upsetting to see how frail Grandma had gotten since the last time they’d been together. Was it only a few years ago that she’d been so perky?

  “Mom, wake up,” Cheryl’s mother said, gently shaking Grandma’s shoulder.

  Grandma’s eyes opened, and she blinked a couple of times. “Katherine?

  “Yes, Mom. I’m here with Cheryl, and we’ve brought some guests along.” Cheryl’s mother motioned to Emma and Rachel, who stood off to one side.

  Grandma gave no indication that she saw them, as she stared at Cheryl with a blank expression.

  “Grandma, do you know how I am?” Cheryl asked, leaning in close to be sure Grandma could see her face.

  Grandma studied Cheryl a few more seconds, then gave a slow nod. “You’re my granddaughter.”

  Cheryl breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced at Mom and saw tears in her eyes. Did she feel guilty for being too busy to spend time with her own mother?

  “Grandma, I want to introduce you to some very special people,” Cheryl said, motioning for Emma and Rachel to move closer to the bed. “I think you might already know them. They’re sisters, and their names are Emma and Rachel.”

  “When you were young, was your name Betty Bontrager?” Rachel asked, leaning close to Grandma’s bed.

  Grandma’s eyelids fluttered.

  “Did you grow up in Middlebury, Indiana? Were your parents named Homer and Doris?” Emma softly questioned, standing next to Rachel.

  Grandma released a shuddering breath and coughed, while trying to sit up.

  With Cheryl on one side, and her mother on the other, they eased two pillows behind Grandma’s back and helped her get into a sitting position.

  “There, Grandma, is that better?” Cheryl asked, holding her grandmother’s hand.

  Grandma nodded as tears filled her eyes. “Do I know you?” she asked, looking at Emma and then Rachel.

  “Our parents were Homer and Doris Bontrager,” Rachel repeated. “Our oldest sister’s name was Betty.”

  Grandma covered her mouth as a heart-wrenching sob tore from her throat. “I…I’m that Betty. I never thought I’d see any of my family again.” She looked at Cheryl and her mother. “I…I mean, the family I was born into,” she said, lifting a shaky hand to swipe at the tears dripping onto her weathered cheeks.

  Concerned for her grandmother, Cheryl stepped between Emma and Rachel. “I think this might be a bit too much for her. Maybe we should slow down and
let her process things.”

  Cheryl was amazed that Grandma, whose memory was failing, seemed to remember these details now. Perhaps she’d longed to see her family so badly that it had been ever present on her mind.

  Before Emma or Rachel could respond to Cheryl’s request to slow down, Grandma shook her head and said, “No, let them go on.”

  “Whatever happened? Why’d you stay away all those years?” Rachel asked, tears dribbling down her own wrinkled cheeks. “Our mother’s heart was broken, you know.”

  Even with Cheryl’s comforting touch, Grandma continued to sob as she rocked back and forth. “I didn’t want to stay away. I…I was scared. I prayed that we’d all be together someday, but Papa said he never wanted to see me again. I was afraid if I came back I wouldn’t be welcome, and I couldn’t handle the rejection.” Grandma drew in a shuddering breath. “Staying away and having no contact with my family seemed easier, but I never forgot them.”

  Emma took Grandma’s other hand. “It’s too late to change the past, but we’ve been given a second chance. The Lord led us to you, and for that I’m so thankful.” She took a seat in one of the chairs near Grandma’s bed, and motioned for Rachel to do the same. “Now let’s not waste a minute. I want to get better acquainted with the sister I never knew.”

  Cheryl placed the box with the quilt in it at the foot of Grandma’s bed. “I have something I’d like to give you.” She lifted the lid, removed the quilt, and gently covered Grandma with it. “Happy birthday, Grandma.”

  “It’s my old quilt!” More tears fell as Grandma stroked the edge of her quilt with loving hands. “But it’s not tattered anymore. It’s even more beautiful than when my mother gave it to me. How did this happen?”

  Cheryl explained that she’d taken the quilt to Emma to be repaired, and then told Grandma the details of how Rachel had recognized the quilt and they’d figured out that Grandma must be their long-lost sister.

  Tears were shed all around, as two happy sisters, a mother, and her daughter, gathered around Grandma’s bed. Cheryl knew that for the rest of her life she would cherish this special moment and the story of how the once-tattered quilt had brought them all together.

  Mishawaka

  After fixing himself a microwave dinner of macaroni and cheese, Blaine decided to relax in his recliner the rest of the evening. This was the night he usually watched a program about fishing.

  Tonight’s show featured rainbow trout and had been filmed in the Finger Lakes region of New York. Any other time, Blaine would have quickly become engrossed in a program like this, but unfortunately, all he could think about was the conversation he’d had with Lamar, concerning Sue.

  Why did Sue call me like that? he wondered for the umpteenth time. And why did she want to know about me going out with Cheryl?

  “Women,” Blaine muttered as he stared at the TV. “They sure can be hard to figure out.”

  The phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. Caller ID told him it was his brother Darin.

  “Hello,” Blaine answered, wondering what his brother wanted.

  “Hey, Blaine. How ya doing?” Darin’s voice sounded full of excitement. “It’s been awhile since we talked. Hope things are going good for you.”

  “I’m doing fine. How about you?”

  “I have some great news. I’m a dad!” Darin shouted.

  Had nine months gone by already? Blaine wondered, holding the phone away from his ear.

  “Michelle went into labor this morning, and at 4:35 this afternoon, our baby boy was born. Can you believe it? I’m officially a dad!”

  “That’s great, Darin. How are Michelle and the baby doing? Oh, and what’d you name your son?”

  “They’re both doing great. We named him Caleb Vickers, and he weighs a little under seven pounds.”

  Blaine listened as his brother told how great it had been to be there when the baby was born. He was happy for Darin and Michelle but felt envious. He could almost foresee the next visit when his family got together. It would most likely be at Thanksgiving or Christmas, which wasn’t too far off. There would be more questions about him, of course. Had he met anyone yet? Did he ever plan to settle down and have a family of his own?

  Blaine would love to have a family someday, but it didn’t just happen out of the blue—although at times he wished his soul mate would suddenly appear.

  Blaine listened awhile longer as his brother nearly talked his ear off. Finally Darin said he’d better hang up because he had several other calls to make.

  When Blaine hung up, he grabbed the remote and clicked off the TV. Man, my life is the pits!

  Elkhart

  Carmen had been gone less than a week, but it felt much longer to Paul. He hadn’t said it out loud, but he really missed her.

  Why did she have to betray my trust? Paul fumed as he sat at his desk, prepared to boot up his computer. If only she hadn’t come here to write a negative story about the Amish. They got enough negative press coverage—much of it exaggerated or based on untruths. The majority of Amish people were humble, hardworking, and living their lives as their ancestors had done. As was so often the case, when one of their kind did something wrong and it made the news, many people began to think that all Amish were bad.

  Think I’ll go online and see if I can find the story Carmen wrote for the newspaper she works for, Paul decided. I’d like to see how damaging it was.

  After finding the Los Angeles newspaper’s website, he did a search for Carmen’s story. Sure enough, there it was, in the News section: “Amish Values” by Carmen Lopez.

  Oh boy, here it comes. She’s going to start bashing the Amish values. Paul read the story out loud: “There are many myths about rumschpringe, which is a time for Amish young people to decide whether they want to join the Amish church. Most Amish youth don’t leave home during this time. Amish parents do not encourage their children to break the church rules, but to behave morally during their running-around years. Some stories about rumschpringe portray it as a time of wild parties and experimentation with drugs and alcohol. This kind of behavior is an exception rather than the norm. Some groups of Amish young people may meet in town and change into ‘English’ clothes. The girls may even wear makeup or try on jewelry, and Amish boys may buy a car during this time. But many own horses and buggies, which they use to court a young woman. Dating among the Amish typically involves attending Sunday night ‘singings,’ participating in games and activities with others their age, and having the young man visit in the young woman’s home. The key purpose for rumschpringe is for Amish young people to decide if they want to join the Amish church.”

  Paul leaned in closer and murmured, “She got that right.”

  Dropping to the next paragraph, he continued to read: “Although some young people choose to separate themselves from the Amish way of life, almost ninety percent of Amish teenagers eventually choose to be baptized and join the Amish church. Those who choose to leave are not shunned unless they have already joined the church and then choose to break away. Amish communities and individual families vary in their views of the best response to offer during rumschpringe. Some parents allow certain behaviors, while others hold a tighter rein.”

  Paul nodded as he continued to read. “During my recent six-week stay in northeastern Indiana, I got to know several Amish people quite well and observed their customs. It’s the opinion of this reporter that Amish parents do not condone wild or immoral behavior, and they do try to monitor their young people’s actions. The Amish I came to know and respect put God first in their lives and have strong family values. Most of us ‘Englishers,’ as the Amish often refer to those who are not Amish, could learn a lot from the Amish way of life, where simplicity and a devotion to God are the foundation of their faith.”

  “Well, what do you know?” Feeling as though all the air had been sucked out of his lungs, Paul leaned back in his chair with a groan. He sat running his fingers through his hair, then stood and began to pace, wrestlin
g with what he should do. He’d misjudged Carmen. She hadn’t written a negative story, after all. It was quite the opposite.

  Paul returned to his chair and bowed his head, asking for God’s guidance in all of this. A still, small voice seemed to be saying, “Call her!”

  With no hesitation, Paul reached for the phone and quickly punched in Carmen’s number. He just hoped it wasn’t too late and that she would accept his apology.

  CHAPTER 39

  Shipshewana

  It’s sure nice to have you back. How was your trip?” Lamar asked after he’d helped Emma’s driver carry hers and Rachel’s luggage to the house.

  “It was good, but we’re both exhausted,” Emma said, squeezing Lamar’s hand.

  Rachel nodded. “It was a worthwhile trip, however.”

  “Two weeks is a long time to be gone from home, but I’m glad it worked out for you to spend time there and get to know your long-lost schweschder,” Lamar said.

  “I know,” Emma agreed, “and what a joy it was to discover that one of my special quilting students is actually my great-niece. It’s no wonder Cheryl and I felt a connection. I keep thinking if we had gone to Florida instead of staying here and holding another quilting class, I may have never met my sister Betty or discovered that I had a niece and a great-niece I knew nothing about.”

  “Did you connect with Cheryl’s mother, as well?” Lamar asked.

  Emma sighed. “Not like I did with Cheryl, but Katherine, who was equally surprised to learn that she had Amish relatives, did seem to appreciate getting to know me and Rachel, and I look forward to corresponding with her in the days ahead.”

  “Same here,” Rachel agreed.

  “And how is your sister doing?” Lamar questioned.