Sisters of the Quilt

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “You know why your Daed wouldn’t let you go after him, don’t ya?”

  She wiped a tear and nodded. “I do now, but I didn’t for a long time. I just remember crawling in my Daed’s lap every day for months, crying until I couldn’t cry any longer. He just held me, assuring me Abram was in heaven, happy and safe, but it was years before I understood that my parents would have buried both of us had I disobeyed.” She drew a deep breath. “I think they thought I was traumatized enough without telling me I would have died too. But it seems that in the end all that matters is finding a way to survive the grief and trusting in the goodness of life beyond the pain.” She clasped her hands together, staring at them. “You did your best to save David. You were a good and kind brother. What else could be done?”

  Matthew nodded, but he still hadn’t found the answer to the question that haunted him—how to find his way out of the dark hole that surrounded him.

  Maybe no one could answer that, but it seemed it was time to go to Baltimore and see if it held any peace or distractions for him. “I’d appreciate if you could stay here helping Mamm while I’m in Baltimore for a few days, a week at most.”

  “I … I can …”

  “But?”

  “My Daed’s been asking me to come back home since before the fire. I could stay for a week, but he’s right; my family is there. When the Bylers’ barn burned, I came here to help them because they’re our cousins. And … Joseph’s patience with me being here is growing thin.”

  He barely gave a nod.

  Her fingers touched the back of his hands. He looked up. “Go. Find some peace and strength. I’ll stay until you get back.”

  “I figure I just need a few days.”

  Hannah laid the quilt to the side and wriggled her hands into a pair of medical gloves. In spite of the clinic having electricity, only kerosene lamps were used until time for delivery. It gave the place a homey feel the women appreciated. “Es wunderbaar Bobbeli iss glei do.” Making small talk in soothing tones was important to moms in labor, so Hannah encouraged Lois that her wonderful baby was almost here.

  Sweat trickled down Lois’s thirty-something face as she moaned through another round of labor pains. “Net glei genunk!”

  “Ya.” Hannah moved to the foot of the birthing bed. Lois was right—not soon enough. It was her fifth child, and labor had begun nearly sixteen hours ago. According to her chart, Lois always had slow, methodical labors. She’d been in labor for several days with her first child.

  While Hannah waited for the contraction to ease so she could perform a pelvic exam, Snickers meowed from somewhere outside.

  The lines across Lois’s face relaxed as the last of the pain subsided. “If that cat’s up a tree again, it’d be awfully entertaining to see you go after it … like you did before.”

  The memory made her laugh. “Lois, that has to be the most legendary Tuesday quilting to date—Amish women poking fun at me while I climbed a tree to rescue a cat. But it’s too cold and too dark out there this time.”

  Lois went almost limp against the pillow, relaxing. “I remember you climbing that tree, hanging that cat over the outstretched sheet us women were holding out. Then when you released it, it plunged through the air, screeching, claws out.” She started laughing. “Mercy, Hannah, in one way or another you’ve been a blessing since you started working here.”

  “Denki.” Hannah raised one eyebrow, dishing back some of the teasing Lois was giving. “Take a deep breath and hold it. I just want to see if it’s time to call Dr. Lehman.”

  “Surely it is.”

  Hannah checked Lois’s cervix and nodded. “I think so.” She removed the gloves, washed her hands, and went to the phone.

  Although labor had been a long ordeal, interrupting Hannah’s Sunday with Martin, she and Lois had made good use of their time, even working on Lois’s half-done log cabin star quilt. The pattern was Lois’s favorite, and so far she’d made one for each of her children—only this time she was months behind in finishing it. If Lois wasn’t so set against getting an epidural for pain, she’d probably have the baby in her arms by now. An epidural often relaxed a woman, and the contractions were able to do their job faster.

  Hannah had been here part of yesterday and all night, which meant after Lois gave birth in the next hour or two, she’d have to sleep, then study, and then attend Monday night classes before getting home close to midnight.

  The hayfields disappeared from sight as the view turned into asphalt, glass, and steel.

  Baltimore.

  As they drove toward the city at sixty miles per hour, Matthew watched the scenery, hoping the gloominess that’d taken over his mind and heart would lift. Haze covered the sprawling skyline of buildings, warehouses, and factories with their large stacks filling the sky. Billboards lined the side of the freeway, advertising phones, trucks, gyms—call now, buy now, things and more things. They crossed a huge concrete-and-steel bridge into an area of high-rise buildings butting against stretches of multilane roads. Not particularly feeling the excitement Elle said he would, he turned to face his driver.

  “Been here before, have ya, Nate?”

  “A few times. My wife loves the National Aquarium, though we haven’t been in a while. If you get a chance to go, they might have the sea otters—well, I think they’re otters, or maybe they’re sea lions—that are outside for everyone to see. Though that may only happen in the summer. Either way, I think you’ll enjoy visiting there if you have a chance.”

  The massive structures did look a little interesting. Nate maneuvered the vehicle this way and that as the minutes rolled on and the view changed again. Long brick buildings with doors and windows that were similar to a home’s lined the street. Surely he wasn’t looking at some type of house.

  “Row houses,” Nate said, as if he’d read Matthew’s mind.

  On second look some had a hint of homeyness to them with curtains in the windows and flowers in window boxes. Others had paint peeling around the trim. As they continued down the street, they passed a section of brick buildings where the lower windows and doorways were sealed with cinder blocks while the upper windows looked like a fire had consumed the insides of the buildings. Across the street three middle-aged women sat on the steps of one house, talking. Parked cars lined the street, leaving two lanes for traffic between them. A young woman in a tight, short dress and a snug leather jacket paraded down the street in high-heeled, shiny boots while pushing a stroller.

  Nate pulled up to a curb. “This is it.” He put the truck in Park and set the brake.

  Matthew stepped out of the vehicle, seeing a few well-placed trees amid concrete and brick everything. The three-story brick place with fancy molding along the cornice looked more like a sardine inside a can—packed in tightly—than a home.

  Nate opened the lockbox in the bed of his truck. “You’re gonna stick out a bit here unless you get rid of the hat and suspenders.”

  “More than that girl we passed awhile back?”

  Nate pulled out the sacks with Matthew’s clothes. “You’ll see women dressed in a lot more and a lot less before your week’s up.”

  Elle bounded out the door and down the steps. “You’re here and right on time too.”

  Matthew nodded. “We’re here. That’s true enough.”

  She tilted her head. “Can I have a hug?”

  “An easy one.” He put his arms around her and hugged her, glad his skin wasn’t near as sore to touch as it had been. As he took a step back, a tall man wearing a black suit and a fitted hat covering only the crown of his head passed by.

  “Nate thought I’d stick out.”

  Elle glanced at the man. “Nah, if it exists in the world, there will be traces of it here.”

  Her comments seemed odd, considering things she’d said about needing to wear certain Englischer clothes during her time here, but he didn’t want to question or challenge her on it right now.

  The half-dressed woman pushing the stroller came t
oward them.

  Elle tugged on Matthew’s shirt. “After the shock wears off, you’ll find it easy to enjoy.”

  Nate passed Matthew the two large paper bags carrying his clothes. “I need to go. Told Kathryn I’d be back to pick her up by two.”

  Matthew shifted the full bags, wondering if he’d brought too many clothes. “Where’s she needing ya to take her?”

  “My place. With your phone not in working order, the missis invited her to use ours. Kathryn said she needed to use a phone and desk for business of some type. She said the Bylers’ phone shanty is too limiting.”

  Matthew gave a nod. The phone lines in his shop were destroyed. Without the status of operating a business, the bishop wasn’t going to approve having a phone shanty put in. But he didn’t know what possible business Kathryn could be up to.

  Matthew put the sacks on the sidewalk and paid Nate. “Monday morning at eleven. I’ll meet ya right here—”

  “Actually …,” Elle interrupted, “why don’t you just call him when you’re ready to leave? I have a phone. He has one. It’s easier, and I was hoping you might stay longer than just four or five days.”

  “Longer?” Matthew studied her, wondering just what she was hoping for. “But I told Kath—”

  “Okay.” She snapped the word, and her violet-colored eyes spit anger, reminding him how little patience she had with any other female being in his life. “You can leave Monday, but why don’t you call Nate to confirm rather than put it as a definite?”

  “That works too.” Matthew slid the rest of his cash into his pant pocket, hoping it’d last him. But as he stood there, he began to unravel a few things about who he and Elle were together—a couple who’d never really had a chance to form an easygoing, enjoyable friendship. His time in Baltimore would help with that.

  Nate closed the lockbox. “That’s fine. I’ll wait until I hear from you to make plans. Enjoy your time here.” He waved as he climbed into his vehicle.

  Elle grabbed one of the sacks. “Come on. I have your room all ready.”

  Looking at the tall, narrow, brick building, Matthew had to admit that the trip had already lessened the intensity of his grief. Maybe Elle was right—getting away might help.

  They entered through the front door and walked up two flights of stairs before Elle stepped into a bedroom.

  She set his bag of clothes on the bed. “This is yours for as long as you want it. When you’re ready, I have lunch made. I need to return to the bakery in an hour, but I was hoping you’d come with me, maybe help out since I have to work anyway. You could give our commercial ovens a try or run the counter. Dad said I could have off early tomorrow, so I’ll take you to the Inner Harbor and show you a view of the Chesapeake Bay and a hint of Baltimore’s nightlife. It’ll be fun.”

  Lace curtains covered the window, a whirling fan with multiple lights hung from the ceiling, and a huge radio with even larger speakers sat on a white dresser. Feeling curiosity stir, Matthew placed the other sack of clothes on the bed. “Sounds like an interesting few days, Elle. I’m looking forward to it.”

  She smiled in a way he hadn’t seen in more than two years and kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

  Darkness covered the neighborhood as Hannah pulled into Martin’s driveway at seven thirty. The question-and-answer time during today’s Tuesday quilting ran late, and then paperwork concerning recent births had to be filed before she left. On her way across the lawn, she smelled smoke. She sniffed the air—no, she smelled burned food.

  The back door flung open, and a blur of Martin holding a smoldering cookie sheet flashed before her just as he hurled the smoking things in her direction. She screamed and jumped back. Shock registered on his face as their eyes met.

  He broke into uproarious laughter. “Hannah, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” With the pan in hand, he stepped outside and walked to her, still laughing. “But it’s what you get for not being here to prevent this.”

  Kevin and Lissa stood in the doorway, watching. Hannah tried to keep a straight face, but it was hopeless. “I don’t know what’s funnier, burned cookies sailing through the air at me or you in pink oven mitts with a fringed towel tucked in your jeans.”

  He dropped the pan, jerked the pink things off, and threw them on the ground. “What pink mitts?”

  “Too late. I know what I saw, Martin.”

  “And whose fault is it that my home, a.k.a. the bachelor pad, has pink oven mittens?”

  “Yours. You bought them. I thought you’d done it for me, but obviously I stand corrected.” She picked up a burned round thing from the grass. “What was this before you got hold of it?”

  “Chocolate-chip cookie dough,” Lissa yelled out the back door. Kevin folded his arms over his chest, obviously not happy about the burned cookies.

  Hannah bit her bottom lip, thoroughly soaking in the man in front of her. His eyes reflected amusement, and there was a bit of white flour in his thick, dark hair.

  He came within inches of her. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” She pulled the towel loose from his jeans. “Need some help?”

  “Always.” He kissed her cheek while his face reflected desire for a real kiss.

  “What’s going on?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Kevin needs six dozen homemade cookies for tomorrow.”

  “Six dozen? Tomorrow?”

  He nodded.

  She put the towel around his neck and pulled him closer. “Why didn’t we know this before tonight?”

  “I plead the Fifth.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” She brushed her lips against his.

  Lissa banged on the glass of the open storm door. “Hannah, come see what Uncle Martin did.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him before entering the house. The counters were covered in dirty dishes, and the sink had remnants of burned cookies. “My kitchen!” She clamped her hands over her mouth.

  Martin laughed. “You can have it.”

  Kevin huffed loudly. “I’ll never have those cookies, and everyone will …”

  Martin held out his hand in stop-sign fashion. “Relax, Kevin. I’ll get this done.” Martin looked to Hannah. “I will.”

  Lissa frowned at Kevin. “I believe you, Uncle Martin.”

  Kevin turned and walked out of the room, mumbling, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Lissa followed him, wagging her finger and complaining at him.

  Martin shoved one hand into his jean pocket. “He’s a bit sensitive right now. If this doesn’t get done, in his eyes it’ll be like screaming to the whole school that he doesn’t have a mother.”

  “Ah, would you like some help?”

  He gestured at the counters and sink. “Think I need it?” His face became serious. “Some days what Faye’s done to those kids makes me so …”

  Hannah placed her fingers over his lips. “They have you, and we both know that’s saying more than Kevin and Lissa can possibly understand right now.”

  Martin kissed her fingers. “And you.”

  “And me.” She glanced at the stove. “Hey, 450 degrees?”

  “I was hoping to get the cookies done faster that way.”

  “And how’s that working for you?”

  “Sarcasm. You know, I wouldn’t have coached you to hone that skill had I known you’d use it on me. We need to make a fresh pot of coffee and get the kids in bed … please.” He elongated the last word, letting her know he was more than ready for a break from his niece and nephew.

  “While you read to them, I’ll clean the kitchen. After we tuck them in for the night, we’ll get a fresh start. Okay?”

  “That seems like a lot of work for a man who only wants some time with his girl.”

  She grabbed the coffee decanter. “Regular or decaf?”

  “Regular and lots of it.”

  With a long wooden peel in hand, Matthew removed two loaves of bread from the commercial oven. He set them to the side and pulled out a few more. After ten days in Baltimore, grapplin
g through the fog of grief had left him more apathetic than renewed. Still, that was more welcome than the intense pain of loss.

  Twinges of guilt pricked him each time he remembered that he’d not kept his word to Kathryn about returning within a few days. He’d called and left a message with Nate, asking him to tell her he was staying longer.

  Her voice circled inside his head. You can rebuild …

  But rebuilding seemed wrong. Why should he get to restore his life when David’s was over? Matthew swallowed hard, unable to answer that question.

  The bell on the front door of the bakery rang, letting him know the first customers of the day had arrived. What irked him was when he did feel something other than apathy, it tended to be loneliness, and yet he was right here with Elle. It wouldn’t be fair to think she could remove any of his grief and confusion, but he’d expected to feel a closeness of some sort.

  Elle seemed content enough here. They’d attended a huge Englischer church on Sunday. It’d been … interesting and overwhelming, and he was glad that while on that extended buggy ride, Hannah had told him about the many differences in the Englischer world.

  Elle’s father, Sid, came into the kitchen through the swinging door. “Hey, Matthew, why don’t you slip out of that apron and handle the customers while I take over back here?”

  Removing the apron, Matthew went to the customer counter with the glass displays filled with baked goods. Sid had made a dozen statements about how much customers were responding to his presence in the bakery. Although he thought it possible Elle wasn’t aware, he wasn’t fooled. Sid wanted him at the bakery, not because he needed his help, but because his Amish clothing and accent appealed to customers.