Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (61 page)

Unable to look him in the eye, Mary nodded.

His protection?

What would her husband think if he knew her empty womb was God’s hand of judgment—one she might not ever get free of even if she told Luke, her Daed, and the church leaders the truth? How would Luke feel when he learned she hadn’t trusted him to keep his vow to marry her, that she’d withheld information so he would marry her? She’d taken her instruction and baptism with a cloud of deceit hovering around her—a fog of self-deception mostly. Tricking herself into thinking she was trusting God for her life when all she was doing was using that
trusting God
phrase to hide her selfish motives. But somewhere inside her she’d known what she really thought … or else she would have told Luke everything and let him have a say as her future head. She’d removed that right from him, not because she trusted God, but because she was spoiled.

Luke stood directly in front of her. “Mary.”

The gentleness of his voice washed over her. This was the voice he used when the doors were shut at night and the pleasure of being married lingered. Her resolve broke, and tears welled in her eyes. He drew her close and held her before he kissed her long and deep. Warmth and hope rose in her as his lips moved across her face and he nibbled down her neck.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered the words, wishing she could tell him what all she was sorry for.

Luke kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her. “Next week it will only be a year, Mary. Just one year. Try not to take this so hard.”

She nodded and pulled away from him. Grabbing the wedding gift off the dresser, she decided it’d be best if she changed the subject. She hadn’t meant for Luke to see her kneeling by the bed, brooding under her load of guilt and fear.

Passing the gift to Luke, she straightened her dress. “Will Elle be there today?”

Luke put his hat on. “Last Matthew heard she was still out west, assisting in a photo shoot for some calendar company.”

Mary slid into her winter cloak. “I fear she will end up hurting him.”

“She broke her word about moving back home this fall, saying she’d be here before instruction time arrived. I can hardly believe it, but Matthew didn’t end things with her over it. He doesn’t like it, but it seems she’s gallivanting all over the U.S. working with some photographer.” Luke’s words were gruff and had no give to them. “She’s already broke his heart, if you ask me. The only thing missing is that she’s not told Matthew yet.” He took a step back. “She’s strung him along so she could have her way, an Englischer life and an Amish man on the hook.”

Mary’s heart skipped a beat as guilt pressed in on her. She placed her hand on Luke’s chest. “Maybe she hasn’t broken her word. Maybe she’s planning on returning, just like she said, just eight or so months later than the time she and Matthew agreed on.”

“I can’t believe she stayed a year past the six months her dad asked for. And now she’s staying until spring.” Luke sighed. “You mark my words, Mary. She won’t be here for this spring’s instruction period either. Then will she want Matthew to wait through two more summers until the next instruction period?” He grabbed the brim of his hat and pulled it down firmer on his head. “I hate what’s happening to Matthew, but our community has a lot more important things to think about than Elle Leggett.”

Sarah
.

Mary took even breaths, trying to quiet the nervous shiver that went through her every time Sarah was mentioned. Rumors of Sarah not being right in the head weighed on him and the whole Lapp family. Hannah had been gone for more than a year and a half, and Sarah seemed no better. She had weeks, sometimes months, of normal behavior, and then the oddities would begin again. Maybe time didn’t heal all wounds. Maybe it just gave the injuries time to fester and turn malignant. A few days ago Edna Smucker had found Sarah asleep in her barn in the middle of the day. No explanation. No excuses. Just there, asleep … with torn quilt patches in her hands.

Sorry she’d let her husband see her despair, Mary took the present from him and set it on the bed. He needed her to help him carry the weight of life, not add to it. She slid her hands under his coat. “Let’s forget all the bad stuff and just have fun today, ya?”

Looking down at her, he smiled. “I’d like that.”

She pressed her hands against his back and pulled him close. After a long kiss that stole her breath, she backed away. “Maybe we should go and pick this topic up later, ya?”

Luke chuckled. “I’d like that too.”

Mary smiled, hoping that maybe this time God would forgive her secret and she’d conceive.

H
is arms full of presents, Martin knocked on the cabin door and then opened it. “Man in the house.” Christmas music played softly, and the delicious aroma of baked sweets filled the air.

“Martin.” Zabeth’s raspy voice welcomed him.

He’d spent every Christmas Eve with her since he was born. He would be here tonight regardless of anything else going on in his life, but his friendship with Hannah was a definite attraction these days. It more than made up for the distress his sister would cause when she showed up later in the evening.

“Merry Christmas, Zebby.”

From the recliner, Zabeth motioned him closer. “Merry Christmas.” The puffiness and paleness of her face and body made her almost unrecognizable as the person who’d sat here last year. He and Hannah had spent a few long nights at the hospital with her since last Christmas. Her heart was failing. The doctors had adjusted her medicines and put her on full-time oxygen, but beyond that there was little they could do.

Her spirit and love remained intact. She still had good days, sometimes a good week, and as often as not she made it to church.

Wondering where Hannah was, Martin set the presents under what he called the neither-Amish-nor-Englischer tree. It was an evergreen inside their home, so that counted for something. The string of popcorn and a few homemade ornaments kept it from looking too barren.

He gave Zabeth a kiss on the cheek before sitting on the coffee table in front of her. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, just fine.” Her breathing was labored even with the constant flow of oxygen through the nasal cannula.

“You warm enough?” He slid out of his coat, glad he’d worn short sleeves. It was always too warm in this place for him.

“Yeah.” She barely said the word before she closed her eyes and dozed off.

He tucked the lap blanket around her and moved to the couch. A sound of movement from the bathroom let him know where Hannah was. A moment later the door opened. Her hair was wet and cascading down her left shoulder as she came out wrapped in a thick housecoat and carrying a towel.

Martin leaned forward. “Merry Christmas.”

She sandwiched her hair in a fold of the towel and rubbed it while walking to the wood stove. “There’s no hot water.”

Martin laughed. “That’s what happens when you don’t wish people a Merry Christmas.”

She giggled before putting her hands on her hips. “Uh, yeah, but it happened before then. I knew it was only lukewarm a few hours ago, but it didn’t dawn on me there was a problem until I was in the shower. Brrrrr.” She shivered. “Can you fix it?” She slanted her head, dangling her hair near the wood stove.

“Not likely. And there aren’t any plumbers available tonight or tomorrow.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said sarcastically before their eyes met, and they both laughed.

This relaxed, genuine relationship added more meaning to his life than any other, although he had no idea how to define it. She stood there with wet hair, her usual look of no makeup, and men’s socks—probably his.

“I heard you were called into the clinic today. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here until I saw your car.”

“It was a doozie of a day. I needed a long, hot shower to wash it off. So much for salvaging a bad day.”

“How so?”

“We had two Amish dads who’d been, uh …” She tilted her thumb toward her lips and her pinky in the air, the sign for drinking. “They were in the waiting room being just as loud as they pleased. I asked nicely for them to tone it down. Next go-round I explained the rules. A few minutes later I had to stand eye to eye and try to reason with them while they looked at me like I was some stupid girl, which is exactly how they saw me. Beneath them. Someone to not just ignore, but to prove they didn’t have to listen to.”

“Where was Dr. Lehman?”

“Delivering a baby. But it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d been standing around drinking coffee; he told me to handle it. What those men didn’t realize is that I knew their Achilles heel.”

Martin had to smile. Sometimes he hardly recognized her as the girl he’d met eighteen months ago. “Yeah, what was that?”

She glanced at Zabeth before putting her finger to her lips, letting him know the story was not to be repeated to her aunt. It was another part of their relationship that he valued. They shared all sorts of aspects of life with each other, just the two of them, things that were too much for Zabeth to know about. “Nancy was afraid I’d come across unwelcoming to the very people the clinic was established for. I don’t think so. If they chose to feel unwelcome, it’s because they were in the wrong and not my fault. So I told them I’d call the police.”

“Hannah Lawson,” he chided, teasing her.

“No one hates the police more than Plain men who are breaking the law. They shouldn’t have crossed the line of propriety and then pushed my buttons.”

“So did you call the police?”

“I picked up the phone and dialed two numbers before they left. When they came back an hour later, they came in quiet and well behaved, although they wouldn’t speak or look at me.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh, I want to show you a gift I received.” She disappeared into her bedroom.

Last year for Christmas he’d bought her an electric blanket to help her feel better about long winter nights. He couldn’t spend much on her because she’d made him agree to a limit—a really puny limit. But she seemed to have absolutely loved his gift. When he’d dropped by unexpectedly on a few winter evenings, he’d found her on the couch, wrapped in the blanket while studying.

He just hoped he’d done as well on her gift this year. A couple of years ago, before Zabeth was diagnosed with cancer, he was enjoying a Sunday afternoon with her right here at the cabin. While they talked, he pulled out his digital camera, set a timer, and took a photo of them on the bench—the same bench where he and Hannah had met and talked for the first time, where they still spent time talking every Friday night at the end of her tutoring lesson. Since she really liked the photos of Zabeth on his walls, he figured she’d treasure this gift forever.

For his Christmas last year, she’d given him a gift booklet with several “I owe you” cards for her to make his favorite dinners. He’d taken her up on them too, eating most of the dinners right here with her and Zabeth. But one of his best memories was the time she’d come to his place and prepared a meal. He’d invited his friends Dave and Vicki to join them. They weren’t a young couple, yet the four of them could not have had more fun together. It was his favorite memory of the year. After the meal, they went out and played Putt-Putt golf and bowled until two in the morning. Teaching Hannah how to bowl had been an absolute riot, one where they laughed and quipped at each other until it became clear to him just how much this friendship meant.

Zabeth shifted slightly without waking up. The fact that he cared deeply for her niece might have bypassed Hannah’s perception, but it hadn’t escaped Zabeth’s notice. Thankfully she had no objections, as long as he agreed to keep Hannah’s best interests above his own. He fully agreed. Aside from an insane desire to kiss her, the relationship was close to perfect.

Zabeth woke, blinking hard and breathing even harder. “How long did I sleep?”

“Just a few minutes.”

“Where’s Hannah?”

He pointed as she bounded out of the bedroom carrying a leather tote bag. She stopped by Zabeth and gave her a kiss on the head.

“An oversize purse?” Martin asked.

“No, you goof.” She sat Indian style on the couch and faced him. “Look.” She opened the bag and passed him a small cylinder and something that looked like tongs.

“What am I looking at, Hannah?” He held it up to Zabeth and made a face. The swelling in her features could not block the smile as she watched them interact.

Hannah shifted it. “It’s an infant-sized laryngoscope. These are the blades for opening the air passages, and this is the handle.” She wiggled her finger through the blades. “The endotracheal tube goes through here.” She pulled out another item. “This is a resuscitator.” She laid that on his lap and grabbed something else. “And?” She dangled two items in front of him.

He touched each one. “Blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope. Those I know.”

“And?” She held what appeared to be a huge set of tweezers.

“Eyebrow pluckers for an orangutan?”

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s it, Martin.”

He deflected her as she tried to pluck his eyebrows. “So what is it?”

“Forceps. But Dr. Lehman doesn’t believe in using them unless absolutely necessary. There’s other stuff too. It’s a medical bag. Dr. Lehman gave it to me for having a year of nursing school under my belt.”

“Belt? What belt? I’ve never seen you wear a belt.”

She sat up straighter, tightening the belt to her housecoat, and even Zabeth laughed. “And …” Hannah pulled a small, wrapped item out of the bag. “This is for you from Dr. Lehman.”

Martin hesitated. “For me? Is this a gag gift?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t think so, not from Dr. Lehman. Open it and let’s see.”

Her almost-dry hair had become a thick mass of curls, making her one of the sexiest women he’d ever seen—even in a thick bathrobe and men’s socks. He removed the red tissue paper. It was a plaque with an inscription that said “Ohio’s Best Tutor,” plus restaurant gift certificates with “Dinner for Two” printed on them.

Hannah peered over. “Ohio’s best? Yep, it’s a gag gift.”

Martin slapped the top of her head with the gift certificates. “Hey, that’s no way to talk to the man who helped you pass math.”

“So what’s this?” She took the gift certificates from him and glanced at them. “Oh.”

“Well you don’t have to sound so disappointed. It’s a nice gift.”

“I have a right to my opinion.”

He thumped the certificates. “What’s wrong with the gift?”

She shrugged.

When Zabeth was up to it, Hannah drove her to church and stayed throughout the service but rarely went out to eat with them afterward. She usually headed straight for the birthing clinic to either work or study in her office. When he’d asked her why, she said she wanted him and Zabeth to keep their Sundays as they always had been before she arrived. But today he got the feeling there was another reason. In spite of how much they’d come to know about each other, there were still things she didn’t tell him, like what those Tuesday-night meetings were about.

He took the certificates back. “I think I’ll just hang on to these.”

Zabeth raised her hand, and all attention focused on her. “Maybe you should keep them for ten weeks …” She drew a slow, heavy breath. “It’ll be Hannah’s twentieth birthday. You two could have a great evening out together.”

“Yeah, what she said.” Martin pointed to Zabeth and winked at her.

Hannah stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m not interested in being one of umpteen dates you take out to eat, but thank you anyway.”

He laid his hand across the back of the couch, wondering how long they’d dance around the truth of how he felt about her. It was scary to be twenty-seven and fall for a nineteen-year-old.

Deciding he really didn’t want to go any further with the conversation, he dropped the subject. Hannah began putting each piece of the medical equipment back in its exact spot in the bag. He’d been wrong about that nursing school. It fit very well around the other needs in her life. She went to school on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights and had clinical rotation every other weekend. She had to study a good fifteen to twenty hours a week, but that could be done right here at the cabin. Then she worked for Dr. Lehman each Friday and every other weekend. The only other thing in her schedule was whatever meetings she still attended on Tuesdays. Her life was busy but very grounded and focused for a nineteen-year-old. She stayed with Zabeth all day throughout the workweek, sewing curtains for the orders Zabeth wasn’t able to keep up with and tracking her intake of nutrition and medicine like a hound dog. Martin kept a check on Zabeth by phone or sat with her when Hannah was gone.

Faye came and went at will, leaving Kevin and Lissa with Hannah regularly. If she didn’t seem to enjoy them so much, he’d try to put a stop to it. But she said the house was more like a home since the two rug rats spent three to four days a week here. And then there were times when Faye helped with the in-home care of Zabeth.

His best guess was that his sister was a functional addict, but he had no proof. If not, she was borderline, using whenever it suited her. Using what, he wasn’t sure. He only knew she acted very odd at times. There were days and weeks when she had energy to burn and played supermom, so he guessed maybe she used methamphetamine some of the time. Other days she slept round the clock. And still other times she smelled of alcohol. What worried him was that nobody who used part-time to get through the day stayed that way for long. They became hardcore addicts.

Zabeth took hold of her cane, and in a flash Hannah was at her side, helping her up. “Did one of you feed Ol’ Gert?”

“We always take care of the horse, Zebby. But I think it’s way past time to sell her.”

“No way,” Hannah retorted. “I take Kevin and Lissa for buggy rides and bareback rides.”