Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (45 page)

S
itting in the enclosed buggy, Luke tapped the reins lightly against the horse’s back as he drove down the dirt road toward his harness shop. In spite of how broken his relationship with Mary was and how much he loved her, that’s not what he’d try to repair first. If he could go back and do things over, he would treat his sister right. He’d stand against his father and the bishop, even knowing he’d be frowned upon and ostracized, if not shunned.

He spotted a man about his age tossing loose hay into the snowy pastures that bordered the Waddell and Lapp properties. Considering Mary’s description, Luke would’ve bet this was the guy Hannah had been secretly engaged to. The Lapp and Waddell homesteads were a mile apart, but until now Luke had never laid eyes on the guy. Of course the man didn’t live in Owl’s Perch year round. He only came here during his summer breaks from college—just long enough to make his sister believe she was in love with him.

Torn between indignation and the reminder of his own mistakes with Hannah, Luke had no idea what to think of the man who had tried to steal his sister from her Amish roots. As he rode closer, the stranger glanced his way. Intending to ignore the man and keep going, Luke looked straight ahead. A scene flashed through his mind, causing the hairs on his arms to stand on end.

The night of his and Mary’s accident, a car had rammed into their buggy, and he went sailing through the air. When he woke in the grassy field, he couldn’t find Mary. He remembered looking toward heaven and praying, “God, please.” Shame had swallowed him. He knew he wasn’t worthy of God helping him with anything. When he made his way back to the road and saw what was left of their upended carriage, his legs had buckled, and he’d landed on his knees, begging, “Please, Father, if You will, help us.”

It had been a feeble prayer from the lips of a man totally unworthy to ask or receive anything from God, but immediately warmth had run through his body, and he had known what he needed to do to find Mary.

Unable to justify coldness to Paul when God had been so merciful to him, Luke tugged on the reins and came to a stop a few feet from where the man stood. Fighting against his prejudice, Luke wrapped the reins around the stob on the dash of the buggy and just sat there, waiting—for what, he didn’t know.

The man stepped forward. “Something I can do for you?”

If Luke was going to do penance for how he’d treated Hannah, this was the place to begin. By an act of his will, he climbed down from the buggy and offered his hand. “I’m Luke, Hannah’s brother.”

“Paul Waddell.” He used his teeth to pull off a work glove and then held out his hand to Luke.

Now that he was standing eye to eye with the man, Luke felt like a gamecock ready to attack. Instead, he shook Paul’s hand firmly. “I’m right sorry for all that’s taken place.”

Paul’s eyes bored into his. “Have you heard anything from her?”

Luke shook his head. “No, but I’m sure she’s doing fine.” He shrugged. “Hannah’s not like most girls.”

Paul seemed relieved to hear something encouraging about Hannah’s circumstances. “She’s tender-hearted. Courageous. And …” His voice cracked with emotion.

Dislike for the man drained from Luke. “And stubborn. If will has anything to do with making a success out of her new life, she’ll stroll back to Owl’s Perch someday just to let the bishop know he didn’t win.”

Paul studied the fields. “Just as long as she returns.”

Luke didn’t respond. When his sister did return, he wanted to see her grow fresh roots among her own kind, the people God had placed her with.

Paul shoved a glove into his jacket pocket. “If you hear anything …”

“I’ll let you know.” Luke buttoned his coat against the cold air.

“How’s Matthew doing working things out with the church leaders?”

“They seem to have nothing to say to him or anyone else over the events concerning Hannah. But his life is not what he’d hoped. His girl, Elle, was born English and raised by Amish parents after her mother died when she was ten. Her father had been trying to make contact with her for a few weeks. Since he showed up, he’s been pushing her to leave the only family she’s known for the last ten years and come live with him.”

“Is she going to do it?”

Luke shrugged. “I guess so, ’cause—”

Sounds of a horse and buggy made both men look toward the road. The rig turned onto the driveway of the harness shop. Mary’s oldest brother, Gerald, was driving, and his wife, Suzy, sat beside him. Luke hurried to the buggy before it came to a full stop. “What brings you two out this way?”

Gerald glanced at Suzy, but neither one answered him.

“Is Mary all right?”

Gerald gave a slow wave of his hand. “Yes and no.” He spoke casually, as if they were discussing plowing fields. “Daed insisted Mary go see her specialist yesterday, with all the stress of this business with Hannah and you.”

Suzy leaned forward. “I don’t know what that doctor said, but whatever he told her has her acting funny—all quiet and withdrawn like.” She spilled the words quickly. “Speak with her, Luke. Make her open up to you.”

Luke wanted to talk to her so badly he could barely stand it, but she wanted nothing to do with him.

Gerald released the hand brake. “If anybody asks, we didn’t say a word.” He clicked his tongue and slapped the reins, continuing up the driveway so he could turn around and head back out.

Luke turned to find Paul still standing beside him.

Paul pulled a set of keys out of his pants pocket. “I can drive you in my truck and have you there in no time.”

Luke hesitated. It might not go over well with his or Mary’s father—or the bishop—to be seen with the likes of Paul Waddell. But Paul could get him all the way to Mary’s in less time than it’d take Luke to go a mile by horse and buggy.

Luke grabbed the reins to his horse. “Just give me time to pull the buggy under the shed and put the horse to pasture.”

Within three minutes he was climbing into Paul’s truck.

Paul jerked the stick shift into gear. The old jalopy rattled even worse than a horse and buggy, and the fumes stank more than Mamm’s old gas-powered washing machine, but it moved quickly, and for that Luke was thankful.

They rode in silence, and within ten minutes Paul slowed the truck in front of Mary’s home. Luke opened the truck door and paused. “I’m glad we met, but when Hannah comes back … I can’t side with you about her leaving the People. I think our ways are the right ones for her. Our community hasn’t handled things right, and we’ve got some repenting to do and some things to learn.” Luke swallowed hard. “But she was born Amish, and I believe she’s supposed to be with us.”

Paul gave a brief nod. Luke figured it wasn’t really in agreement as much as a silent acceptance not to argue. “Will you let me know if you hear from her?”

Luke climbed out. “I think that’s a reasonable thing to ask.” He shut the door to the truck and headed across the yard as Paul drove away.

The front door opened before he even knocked, and Mary’s father stepped outside. “What are you doing here?”

Luke took a deep breath. “I came to see Mary.”

John Yoder eyed Luke from top to bottom. “She’s been in the
Daadi Haus
since last night, but she said she didn’t want no company.”

“I’d like to go see her. I’m not likely to be able to make things much worse, but I’ll do all I can to help her.”

John nodded. “Just leave the front door open, and keep the storm door unlocked.”

Within thirty seconds, Luke was tapping on the door to
Mammi
Annie’s house. When Mary didn’t answer, he stepped inside. “Mary?” He walked through the small house, searching for her.

He found her in a chair in the living room. She twitched when she saw him. A spool of thread fell from the quilt in her lap and rolled across the floor.

Luke grabbed it, noticing how pale she looked. “Is that our ‘Past and Future’ quilt?”

She didn’t answer him.

The quilt had been Hannah’s idea, a gift for Luke and Mary’s marriage bed. She and Mary had worked on it since Mary was released from the hospital in early October. Hannah had gathered patches of cloth from their childhood for the past side of it. He wasn’t sure what they’d done for the future side.

He held the spool toward her. “I guess you’re hurting awful bad about now, missing Hannah.”

She took the thread from his hand without looking at him.

He sat on the ottoman, his knees almost touching hers. “I heard you had a doctor’s appointment yesterday.”

She repositioned the quilt and ran the needle through an edge of it. “The basting on the future side of the quilt gave way. I don’t know why.”

He ran his finger along the sleeve of her sweater. “What did the doctor say, Mary?”

She shoved the quilt into his lap, rose, and walked away from him. Luke resisted the desire to stand in front of her and try to bend her will to his. He stayed on the ottoman, watching and listening. The room was silent for several minutes as Mary rummaged through a stack of material. She unfolded a piece of black broadcloth, her hands caressing it gently.

“Who will you sew a pair of pants for?” he asked, hoping her answer might give him some clue as to what was going on in her heart.

She tossed the material on the chair, her eyes focused on the cloth. “It doesn’t matter.” She turned her attention to him. “Not anymore. It’s all ruined. All of it.”

Luke rose and went to her. “It doesn’t look ruined to me.”

Taking a step back, she gestured toward the quilt. “Parts of it are already sewn into our future part of the quilt.” She gasped for air. “And now …”

He was clueless as to why she was so upset but fairly sure he had the answer. “I’ll buy you a whole bolt of black broadcloth, however many bolts you want.”

Grabbing the material, she mumbled, “You can have it.” She picked pieces of lint off the cloth. “Someone else can make pants for you.”

Ah, so the material is for making my pants
. At least he understood a little more, but the pain that crossed her face when she stumbled over that sentence added to his confusion. She folded the material and passed it to him, staying as far away from him as possible.

Luke eased up to her. “Mary, what’s all this about?” When she tried to turn away from him, he stepped in front of her. “I need you to talk to me, Mary. I can’t stand what’s happening to us. I was wrong about Hannah, but I’ve already done all I can to fix that. And you have the power over
our
future.”

“That’s just it, Luke. I don’t have the power. The doctor has removed it from me. And you’ll up and lea—” She stopped, picked up the quilt, and moved back to the chair. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock.

Luke returned to the ottoman, waiting for her to finish her sentence. Doctors grated on her nerves easily. They were quick to give her lists of things she had to do, like take physical therapy and nutritional supplements. They also gave lists of things she couldn’t do, like stay on her feet for more than six hours each day. He was curious what they’d demanded of her this time that had her so frustrated.

“I think I’ll give Paul this quilt.” She grabbed the spool and unwound some of the thread. “From the work Hannah put into it, it has more of her in it than anything else she owned.”

Though not thrilled with the idea of her so easily giving away their marriage-bed quilt, he gave a slight nod. “If that’s what you want.”

Mary looked up from her sewing. “You’d not balk at me giving this to Paul?”

“I met him today. He’s not such a bad guy. And I think he’s hurting awful bad.” Luke placed his hands over hers. “But that’s not who I’m worried about.”

She lowered her head, her fingers tightening around his. “I’m sorry, Luke. But I can’t marry you.”

Fighting the urges to argue, walk out, or pressure her for an immediate answer, he rubbed her fingers. “Can’t or won’t?” In spite of his anxiety, his words flowed calmly.

She shook her head. “It’s time for you to go.”

“Not yet. First I need you to answer that question. You can’t marry me, or you won’t marry me?”

“You need to find somebody else—” Her face crumpled with sadness.

“Mary, you’re scaring me. I feel like I did during those awful days before you woke in the hospital. Does this have something to do with what the doctor said yesterday?”

“It’s not like that.” She stood. “The doctor says I’m doing great, just as long as I follow his orders.”

Relieved, he took a deep breath. “Then what’s wrong?”

Her lips curved down, causing a half-dozen little dimples to develop on her chin. “He said I can’t plan on getting married this fall.”

Shocked, Luke gazed up at her, hoping she meant what it sounded like. “Does that mean you’re still interested in marrying me?”

“Of course I am.” Her cheeks seemed to flush. “I mean …”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “It sounds like I still stand a chance of being your husband.” He reached for her hand and gently tugged on it.

She knelt in front of him.

He caressed her cheek. “I love you, Mary.”

“But …” She tilted her chin back as if she wasn’t ready to forgive him.