The Amish Seamstress (37 page)

“How long have you been here?”

“Too long. I don't know,” Klara said, accepting the tissue Ada handed her and dabbing at her face. “A few hours. I woke up and forgot that the afghan was around my legs. I managed to trip and couldn't catch my balance because of my back.”

Oh, no. I knew checking on Klara wasn't my responsibility, but still I felt bad to think I'd been so close but totally unaware of what she was going through.

Alexander came around to her. “Klara,” he said. His voice was tender, but she just looked embarrassed.

“Please, get me off this cold, hard floor and back on the couch. Then give me a muscle relaxer.”

“But what if the fall injured you somehow?” I couldn't help but say. “Worse than you already were, I mean.”

Klara just shook her head. “The only thing I injured in the fall was my knee—and even that's just a bruise, I'm sure. I banged it on the floor when I landed.”

Alexander helped her roll onto her stomach and then raise herself up on all fours. She was obviously in a lot of pain, but with his help she stood and moved back to the couch. She wasn't able to sit, though, so I stepped out of the way as he helped her sort of lean downward, sideways, until she was lying horizontal again. As she sank into the cushions, Ada slipped a pillow under her knees.

I picked up the afghan that had fallen to the floor and spread it over Klara as Alexander adjusted her head on the pillow. Then he knelt by her side and they spoke quietly to each other.

“She needs to see a doctor,” I whispered to Ada. I was surprised when she merely shrugged.

“I'll call Marta and get her to stop by, but I don't think we'll need to do more than that.
Mamm
has seen doctors for this before. It's a herniated disc that flares up sometimes. There's not much they can do unless it gets really, really bad, but she's not to that point yet.”

We both looked at Klara, who was still speaking softly with Alexander.

Ada turned and moved toward the kitchen. She came back a moment later with an ice pack from the freezer.

“You know the routine,” she said to Klara, in the same voice she sometimes used with the twins or little Abe. “Ice and rest and ibuprofin and gentle stretching. No stress, no lifting, no bending…” Her voice trailed off as she helped slide the ice pack under the middle of Klara's back.

“She's right,” Alexander said. “And no tree climbing or cattle herding, either,” he added, a twinkle in his eye.

Ada stood up straight, hands on her hips. “
Ya
. No marathons, no hopscotch, and absolutely no break dancing.”

I doubted Klara even knew what break dancing was, but she chuckled just the same. So did Ada and her father, though the girls didn't crack a smile. Instead, they just stood there, off to the side, holding hands, looking at their grandmother with wide eyes and trembling lips.

Klara wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type, so I was surprised when she opened her arms to the two children. Instantly, they rushed forward and then stopped to carefully settle themselves into her embrace.

“I'm really okay,” she told them, patting their backs. “Please don't worry.”

Ada reached out and patted Mat's back as well. “
Mammi
Klara's a tough old bird, don't you know that?”

When they didn't respond, Klara looked around, slightly embarrassed, and said, “Want to see what I did to my stockings?”

At that, they both pulled back, nodding, so at Klara's request Ada gently moved the afghan aside and then slid her mother's skirt up just above her knee, revealing a giant tear in her black stockings. Where the skin was exposed, there was a welt, red and swollen and angry looking, with tinges of purple already showing around the edges.

“You need ice for that too,” I said. I went to the kitchen and retrieved another pack from the freezer.

When I returned, I paused there in the doorway, taking in the sweet family scene. Despite Klara's pain, I could feel the warmth of this moment, especially when she and Ada finally got the girls to giggle somehow.

I handed the ice pack to Ada, who put it in place on her mother's leg. Then I gave a nod to Alexander and slipped out of the room, glad to know all was well.

My happy glow ended when I entered the
daadi haus
, however, and noticed immediately that Frannie's breathing had changed. It was much more labored than before, and her complexion had grown paler too. I checked her pulse and respiration. Both had increased.

“Frannie.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

She stirred a little.

I raised the bed, thinking that perhaps a sitting position would help.

She opened her eyes.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Just tired.”

“Do you feel short of breath? Light-headed?”

She started to shake her head but then stopped. “I think I'm all right. Maybe a little dizzy.”

“Okay, let me talk to Ada and see what we can do.”

“Ada? Is she here? I haven't seen her in so long.”

“
Ya
,” I answered as I tucked her blanket in closer.

“She's my granddaughter. A lovely girl.”

I didn't reply except to say that I'd be gone for just a minute. I hurried to the door and then out into the chilly afternoon, my hand pressed atop my
kapp
to keep it down in the wind. As I neared the back door, it swung open, and Ada stepped out, wrapped in her cape.

“Oh, Izzy, you scared me. I was just going to the barn to give Aunt Marta a call. I'm sure my
mamm
is fine, but it wouldn't hurt to get her checked out, just to be safe.”

I nodded, shivering. Gusts blew against me, whipping my dress against my legs. “Tell her I need her out in the
daadi haus
too. And to bring her stethoscope.”

Ada's eyes widened.

Trying to keep my voice calm, I added, “It's okay. I just want her to listen to Frannie's lungs.”

“I don't think it's pneumonia,” Marta said. “But there's definitely something going on.” She handed the earpieces of the stethoscope to me. “Listen.”

I did.

“Do you hear the rattle?”

I nodded. “Sounds like extra fluid in there.” I took the earpieces out.

“Right. It could be pulmonary edema. Her heart could be failing.”

I knew what that was.

“Do you have pain in your chest wall?” Marta asked her mother.

Frannie shook her head.

Marta turned to me. “No cough? Or mucus?”

I shook my head.

“I have a mother in labor, so it might be a while before I can get back here.” She handed me the stethoscope. “I have a second one. Why don't you hang onto this one so you can keep tabs on her?”

“
Danke
,” I said, motioning toward the door. “I'll walk you out.”

I grabbed my cape at the door and followed Marta onto the porch.
“What should I do if she gets worse? I assume she'll need to go back to the hospital.”

Marta surprised me by shaking her head no. “They won't do anything there but keep her comfortable. We can do that much better here.”

“But if she's ill—”

“Izzy,” Marta said, looking me in the eye. “My
mamm
has an advanced directive. It's about palliative care at this point. If something happens, let Alexander know—and call me, of course—but otherwise just keep her comfortable.”

I nodded. I'd thought I was ready for this, but maybe I wasn't.

“Don't look so sad,” Marta said. “Remember, she is weak and ready to go. She doesn't want to be saved only to suffer more. Death is as much a part of life as birth. It can be just as beautiful a transition.”

I'd never seen a birth so I wasn't sure exactly what Marta meant, but I had seen a death—and there wasn't anything beautiful about it at all.

Not long after she left, a soft knock fell on the door. “Come in,” I called out. The door opened slowly, and Alexander stepped inside, his hat in one hand.

“You have a letter,” he said, extending an envelope toward me.

I stepped over and took it from him. “
Danke
,” I said, knowing already from the handwriting that it was from Zed.

“How's
Mamm
?”

“Hanging in there,” I said. “How's Klara?”

“Ornery,” he replied, but by the smile in his eyes, I could tell he wasn't complaining.

Once he headed back out to work, I opened the envelope as I returned to my chair at the side of the bed and sat down. This was the first letter I'd received from Zed since I'd left Indiana, and my heart was in my throat as I began to read.

Hey, Izzy Bear,

Hope turkey day was good for you. I forgot what a difference it makes when Ella is the one cooking the big
feast. I think I ate enough dressing and mashed potatoes to feed a small country.

Been thinking on the film some more. So far Abigail's story is way more interesting than NGGH's. If we can figure out the rest of what happened with her and her family, we may end up wanting to focus more on her instead of him. So keep digging!

I felt a surge of irritation at his words. Of course I would keep digging, movie or not. They were
my
ancestors. I had to know what happened to turn them against the Indians and then what convinced them to repent of that a year later. I kept reading.

If I do base the movie on Abigail, I'll most likely give the part to my friend Shelly—yeah, that Shelly. Sorry, I know she wasn't exactly kind to you, but she's just such an amazing actress, I hate not to take advantage of that.

I stopped. Blinked. Read that line again. Then I stood and crumpled the paper into a ball and flung it across the room.

How
dare
he? Shelly? To play
my
ancestor?

He could forget it, that was for sure. I didn't want to see my own family featured in some stupid documentary if she was involved—much less if she was the star!

My heart pounding, I began to pace around the tiny room. As I did, I was thankful Frannie was asleep and that no one else was around to see.

The nerve. The absolute nerve.

I paced some more, willing my heart to stop pounding, my eyes returning again and again to the balled-up wad of paper on the floor. Finally, I retrieved it and returned to my chair, smoothing it open again onto my lap. I couldn't help it. I had to know what other wonderful bits of news he had chosen to share. Like maybe he'd gotten her name tattooed to his chest or put a down payment on a honeymoon for them.

I started reading again.

Anyway, we can talk about all of this when I get home, which will probably be on the 13th or 14th. I found a
ride as far as Pittsburgh, but that's not close enough. Ella wants me to drive my car so she can come along and see Mammi. It's not a bad idea. At least we could split the gas that way, which would help me afford it. But I just don't know if Ol' Red will make it all the way there and back or not. I guess we'll decide in the next few days. Maybe you can check with my mom and ask what the final plan is.

Can't wait to see you. Lots to talk about, as always. Mom says you're doing a great job there with Mammi. Thanks again for doing it, and hang in there. Reinforcements will be arriving with the cavalry!

Zed

I refolded the wrinkled letter and placed it back in the envelope and then into my apron pocket for safekeeping, thinking how hard it was to stay mad at someone who was otherwise so adorable.

As I sat staring at Frannie but thinking about Zed, Marta returned from checking on Klara.

“She's sore, but I think she's going to be fine. More ice and rest should do it.” Marta came to a stop at the end of the bed.

I told her I had just received a letter from Zed, but at the time he'd written, he wasn't positive if he'd be driving or not. “Do you know if a final decision has been made?”

Marta smiled broadly, something I hadn't seen her do often. “Yes. They'll be here Sunday. Ella's coming too.”

“You think his car will make it?”

Marta chuckled. “Now it will. Luke offered to cover the cost of getting it checked out by a mechanic and fixed if necessary.”

“I bet Zed appreciated that.”

“I'm sure he did, but Luke didn't do it for him. He just didn't want his pregnant wife to end up stranded in the middle of Ohio.”

Clearly, Marta adored her son-in-law. “As it turned out, all Zed needed was a new belt.” Marta seemed as if she was trying to hide her amusement. “It was an easy fix and the car is fine.”

The thought of Zed coming home both thrilled me and made me
nervous. I knew he had to be back at school by the second week of January. That would give us three weeks. Just twenty-one days for him to open his eyes and see that he loved me.