The Amish Seamstress (35 page)

I knew that from Zed.

Marta continued. “Klara was with her this time and was able to get help for her immediately. So at least the damage isn't as bad as it could have been, meaning she could have easily died. She can still talk, and her mind is mostly clear, but she's very weak, much more so on her left side. She wants to come home. She thinks her time is close.”

“She wants to be with family,” Klara added, “so we've contacted the ones who live out of town, and it looks as though most of them are going to try to get here.”

“Really?” I asked, wondering if that included Zed. His Christmas break wouldn't start for another ten days, and though I would love to have him here sooner, I hated the thought of him missing school, especially at the end of the semester.

“First to arrive will be our niece Lexie,” Marta said as she folded a towel. “She lives in Oregon, but she's coming out as soon as she can. Once she gets here, my patient load will lighten enough that I can jump in more with
Mamm
.”

I nodded. Zed was crazy about Lexie. He would be thrilled to learn she was coming.

“Is her husband coming too?”

“James? Not at first,” Klara said. “Maybe later, if need be.”

I assumed “if need be” probably meant if and when Frannie died. “Who else?” I asked, suddenly grateful Ella had brought me up to speed on all of the family dynamics.

“Zed, once school gets out on the thirteenth. If Ella is able to get away from the bakery by then, she will travel with him. Luke would most likely come as well.”

Both women were quiet for a moment, and then Marta added in a soft voice, “Giselle. Our sister from Switzerland. She might come.”

Klara made a face.

Marta turned to her and spoke defensively. “It would be good for
Mamm
. You know how much she longs to see her.”

Klara shrugged, trying to act nonchalant but not really pulling it off. “Personally, I think it would be too much for
Mamm
right now. For everyone, really.”

Marta's eyes filled with tears, something I'd never seen before. “I don't think that should be a factor in anyone's decision. We don't have much time left. If Giselle is ever going to come, she should come now.”

My hand practically trembled as I placed the folded pillowcase on the table, unnerved by Marta's tears and the tension in the room. No one said a word for a long moment. I searched for something to say that would set the sisters on a different course. “Where will everyone sleep?”

“Klara and I have been talking about that,” Marta said. “Giselle may want to stay in a hotel, but Lexie—and James, if he comes—can stay at Ada's. Zed, Ella, and Luke will stay with me.”

I turned to Klara. “I'm surprised Frannie hasn't insisted everyone just stay here so they'll all be around her as much as possible. Certainly, this big old house has enough bedrooms.” Even as I said it, I realized it may have come out sounding presumptuous, but neither one seemed to take offense.

Marta answered for her sister, a towel tucked under her chin as she folded it in thirds. “That was the original plan, but with Klara's back out,
I'd rather not burden her with any extra cooking and cleaning if we don't have to. Of course, anyone who really wants to stay here would no doubt be welcome to, I'm sure.”

She glanced at Klara, who paused a long moment and then replied, “
Ya
, anyone except Giselle.”

The medical van carrying Frannie arrived just after lunch. We were ready for her, the sheets tucked into the corners, her favorite quilt spread across the bed, and her house scrubbed clean. We managed to get her inside and all set up, and then she fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.

There was still more to do in the main house, and Alexander needed to get back outside, so once Frannie was asleep, Klara and Marta left her in my care and returned to their other duties. After so much noise and commotion, the
daadi haus
felt blissfully silent, the only sound the steady if somewhat raspy breathing coming from the bed.

Glancing around the tiny living room, which was nearly eclipsed by the large hospital bed, I decided the best place for me to sit when I was with her was on a small padded chair to her right, between the bed and the wall. The room was cramped but not uncomfortably so, with a recliner shoved in on the other side of the room next to a settee. As in the main house, the
daadi haus
had an open floor plan, so from where I sat I could see the whole kitchen, as well as the hall that led to the bathroom and two bedrooms.

Later, I would dig out my handwork and pass the time that way, but for now I simply watched Frannie sleep.

Without her
kapp
, I could see how thin her hair was. Her face looked peaceful, her eyelids nearly translucent, and her skin amazingly unwrinkled considering her eighty-four years. I thought of my own
Mammi
and how I used to sit by her side for hours at a time when I was little, right up until the evening before she died.

As I had told Ella when she and I talked about it, I was heartbroken after
Mamm
explained that my grandmother had died during the night. I hadn't expected it. I'd thought she'd go on staying in bed, with me visiting her and holding her water glass and listening to her stories, until I was grown. Why hadn't anyone prepared me? Instead, it was one of those
times when my
mamm
and sisters said I was being
too
sensitive and
over-
reacting and
not
being able to accept God's will. That wasn't it. I just felt the loss, deeply.

Thinking of that time now, I was nearly on the verge of tears. But then I heard footsteps outside and managed to pull myself together just as the door was opening.

“Getting settled?” Marta asked, coming into the room and stepping toward her mother.

I simply nodded.

She rested her hand on the silver bars at the foot of the bed. “
Mamm
's meds are in the kitchen, and the next dose is at three. If Klara doesn't bring her pills out here to you, be sure to go in and get them. She's resting her back now, and she may fall asleep.”

“Of course. No problem.”

“You'll see that I brought easy-to-swallow things for
Mamm
to eat, like soup and yogurt. She should be able to take that kind of food without too much trouble.”

“Thank goodness she can still swallow.”

“I know. I'm afraid her mobility will be limited, though.”

I nodded. I expected that. I could handle the physical care just fine. It was the emotional part that concerned me.

“And, of course, there are groceries in the fridge for you.” Her eyes looked tired. “Though you're welcome to have some of the soup too if you would prefer that.”

“
Danke
,” I said, thinking of all the times I'd fed Freddy soup when he was ill. Marta and I had made a pretty good team back then, and I felt sure we would find our rhythm again this time as well. “Which bedroom should I use while I'm here?”

She gestured toward the hallway. “There are only two. Use the guest room at the end of the hall.”

“Okay.”

“If you have any work for Susie, I'd be happy to deliver it. I drive by there nearly every day.”

“Wonderful. I'll give some to you tomorrow.” I'd finished the last runner while on the bus ride home from Indiana, but I still needed to press it.

Marta glanced at her watch. “I'm heading out for now. Do you have everything you need?”

I assured her we were all set and would be fine. She didn't seem too confident about that, but I didn't take it personally. She was worried about her
mamm
, that was all.

We'd been so busy since I arrived that I hadn't had the chance to unpack, so after she left I decided to start with that.
Daed
had left my stuff—my handwork bag, a small suitcase, and the box from Rod's—piled in a corner of the living room. I carted it to the back bedroom in two trips and then hung up my clothes and used a drawer in the bureau for everything else.

As I slid the empty suitcase under the bed, I wondered how long I would be here. It was hard to tell. The way everyone talked, Frannie could be dying any minute—or she could hang on for weeks. I hoped it ended up being the latter, of course, especially for poor Zed, who loved his grandmother so much. If she could hold on at least until his Christmas break, he could spend time with her.

Back in the living room, I saw that Frannie was still asleep but doing fine. I was feeling too antsy to sit and do handwork, but I wasn't in the mood to go through the box of papers, either. I had noticed an iron and ironing board in the linen closet earlier, so I decided to use the time to press the runner for Susie.

While the iron heated on the stove, I set up the board and arranged the runner on it. I enjoyed ironing and found something about it quite peaceful—except on those rare occasions when I became distracted and burned a finger. I laid the handle aside, on the counter, and after a few minutes reattached it to the hot iron. I pushed it over the fabric quickly, pressing the wrinkles out of a good-sized section before it cooled. Then I placed the iron back on the stove, detached the handle, waited another three minutes, and repeated the process. Occasionally as I worked, I glanced over at Frannie, who continued to sleep.

Once I finished the runner, I readied it for transport along with everything else I'd made since the last batch of items I sent to Susie. I left the iron in the kitchen to let it completely cool. Then, after putting the ironing board away, I looked at the time, noting that Frannie would need her medication soon. Klara hadn't come yet, so I headed to the house.

Sure enough, she was sound asleep in the living room, softly snoring on the couch. With a smile I walked into the kitchen and reached for the container that held Frannie's meds, which we'd decided to keep on the shelf nearest the sink. It was one of those plastic boxes divided up by days and times. I scooped the pills from the correct square into my hand and then carried them back to the
daadi haus
.

I hated waking Frannie when she was resting so well, but knew I needed to. I remembered from my training how important it was for stroke patients to get their blood thinners at the correct times.

In the kitchen I filled a glass with water and plucked a straw out of the box by the sink, and then I returned to her side.

“Frannie,” I said, leaning close to her. “It's time for your pills.”

She stirred a little.

I repeated myself.

She opened her eyes.

“Where am I?”

“You're at home, in your very own
daadi haus
.”

Her gaze wandered the room for a long moment before coming to rest on my face. She smiled. “You're still here.”

“
Ya
, I'm staying with you. As your caregiver.”

She seemed pleased by that even though I'd already told her earlier. I raised the bed with the control, and when she was high enough I told her to open her mouth. I slipped in the first of the pills and then positioned the straw. She swallowed and sputtered but then took another sip and swallowed fine. It was a blessing the stroke hadn't hindered her ability to eat and drink. Otherwise she probably would have needed someone more skilled than I was, someone who could handle a feeding tube.

When she'd finished taking all of the pills, I put the glass on the table and asked if she would like something to eat.

“Goodness, no,” she replied, seeming concerned. “Is it time for supper? Or breakfast?”

I shook my head and gave her a reassuring smile. “It's a little after three in the afternoon. I just thought I'd offer.”

“I see,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

I was about to ask if she needed another sip of water when I realized she had already fallen back to sleep.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, punctuated only by a quick visit from Alexander and several from Klara. Frannie dozed off and on, and though Klara expressed concern that her mother hadn't been sleeping this much in the hospital, I assured her it was likely the transfer from there to here that had worn her out so.

“I bet she'll be better by tomorrow,” I said.

And I was right. The next morning I was up and dressed and at my post by the time Frannie awoke, and I could tell right away that her mind was a bit clearer than it had been the day before. She also spoke with a stronger voice, and her eyes seemed more alert.

I got her to eat a little yogurt for breakfast, administered her morning meds, and then helped clean her up for the day.

Though she dozed off and on throughout the morning, she fell into a deep sleep after lunch. I wasn't in the mood to do handwork, so I decided to use the afternoon to do a thorough job of sorting through the box my
daed
had brought to me from Rod's.

I carted it into the living room, placing it on the floor by the settee, and began to go through it more slowly than before. The task reminded me of Verna, and I noticed that for the first time since she died, the familiar pang of loss was tempered by a warm, happy fondness of her memory. I wondered if that was how the process was meant to work, that slowly the pain faded while the warmth of happy times grew and eventually eclipsed it.