The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club (15 page)

Continuing on, Jan pictured some azalea bushes around his small house. Maybe a few flowers would help it look a little homier and not so plain. He had a lot of yard space he could work with and really needed something to give the place some charm.

Vr … oom! Vr … oom!

“Now that there’s what I really need to be thinkin’ about,” Jan said as a motorcycle roared past. He could hardly wait to get his driver’s license back so he could take his Harley out and start riding again. He missed the exhilaration of zooming down the road with the wind at his back. He missed the power of the motorcycle underneath him.

Hang on, he told himself. Just a few more months and I’ll be home free
.

When Jan pedaled up the driveway to his house, he noticed right away that his garage door hung open. He glanced toward the house and grimaced when he saw Brutus lying on the front porch.

“Oh, great,” he muttered as the dog greeted him with a welcoming bark and a wagging tail.

Jan parked his bike, stepped onto the porch, and bent to pet the dog’s silky ears. “Hey, boy. How’d you get out of the garage, huh?”

Brutus whimpered and nuzzled Jan’s hand with his nose.

Jan took a seat on the top porch step as he contemplated the situation. When he’d put Brutus in the garage this morning before leaving for Emma’s, he’d thought he had shut the door.

I either must’ve forgot or didn’t close it tight enough. Should’ve paid closer attention, I guess
.

Brutus ambled across the porch and picked up an old dilapidated slipper in his mouth. Then he plodded back and dropped it at Jan’s feet.

“Now where’d that come from?” Jan scratched his head. “Sure isn’t mine. Brutus, did you steal this from someone in the neighborhood?”

Brutus gave a deep grunt as he flopped onto the porch and stuck his nose between his paws.

Jan squinted. “Well, if you did steal it, then I guess I’d better get started buildin’ that dog pen right away, ‘cause I can’t have you gettin’ me in trouble with more of the neighbors.”

Goshen

As soon as Ruby Lee stepped into the house, she knew something was wrong. The newspapers that had been scattered on the coffee table when she’d left for the quilting class were still there, as well as Gene’s empty coffee cup, which sat in the middle of the strewn-out papers. Gene was a perfectionist and rarely left things lying around. His motto was “When you’re done with something, put it away.” He’d started a rule in their house back when the boys were small that when a person was finished with their dishes, they were to take them straight to the kitchen sink.

Gene was so meticulous that whenever he finished his coffee, he would rinse the cup out and put it right in the dishwasher. Since he’d obviously not done that this morning, nor had he picked up and folded the newspaper he’d been reading after breakfast, he’d either been called out because of an emergency or was upset about something and forgot.

Ever since they’d been having problems at church, Gene hadn’t been acting like his usual self at home. He seemed less talkative, became easily distracted, rarely played his guitar, and had become moody and despondent. At church, though, he went about his business, unwilling to let anyone in the congregation know how he really felt. Ruby Lee had tried talking to him about it but couldn’t get him to open up. If something didn’t happen to change the church situation soon, she feared he might have a nervous breakdown from holding his emotions inside.

I wish I could get through to him, Ruby Lee told herself as she bent to pick up Gene’s cup. I need to convince him that he should leave the ministry or at least seek a new church
.

Ruby Lee took the cup to the kitchen, and as she was placing it in the sink, she spotted Gene out the window. He was sitting on the grass in the middle of the backyard with his legs crossed, staring up at the sky. It wasn’t like him to do that. For that matter, since he usually called on members of their congregation most Saturdays, it seemed strange that he was home at all.

Ruby Lee went out the back door and knelt on the grass beside him. “What are you doing out here?” she asked, touching Gene’s arm.

His forehead gleamed like polished ebony as he lowered his head and gave her a blank stare. “What do you mean?”

“Well look at you, hon. How come you’re sitting here on the grass staring up at the sky?”

“I was talking to God. Oh, yes, indeed.”

Ruby Lee tried not to act surprised by his statement, but she’d never known him to talk to God in this manner. Not that it mattered where, when, or how a person talked to God, but with the exception of the prayer they said at meals, Gene usually went to the church to pray. He’d told her on more than one occasion that he felt closer to God when he was on his knees in front of the altar. Ruby Lee would sometimes join him there, and they’d pray and meditate together, but she hadn’t done much of that lately. Maybe, like her, Gene just needed a change of pace. That was why she’d decided to take the quilting class. So far it had been a nice diversion, giving her something other than their church problems to focus on.

“Gene, I’ve been thinking about something,” she said softly.

“What’s that?”

“I think we should consider looking for another church. Or better yet, let’s get out of the ministry altogether. Now that we’ve moved from the parsonage and are in our own home, we’re not tied to the church. Since we both like to sing and each of us plays an instrument, maybe we could teach music lessons.”

Gene shook his head. “I’m not leaving the ministry, Ruby Lee. God called me to it, and I’m not going back on my promise to serve Him.”

“I’m not suggesting you stop serving God. I just think there are other ways you can serve besides pastoring a church full of ungrateful people. Even moving from the parsonage to our own place here, we can’t seem to escape all the gossip. And if things keep going as they are, you’re bound to cave in.”
And so will I
.

“‘Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him,’” Gene quoted from Job 13:15.

Ruby Lee swallowed hard. “Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

He gave her arm a gentle pat and lifted his gaze to the sky again.

Sighing deeply, Ruby Lee rose to her feet and headed back to the house. Sweet Jesus, we need Your help in this. Please protect my man and make everything all right for us again
.

E
mma had spent a good deal of Wednesday afternoon shopping in Shipshewana, and had also stopped to see her friend Clara Bontrager. During their visit, the subject of Lamar came up, and Emma dropped a few hints about Clara and Lamar maybe getting together. She’d even gone so far as to say she thought they would make a good couple. Clara had completely vetoed that idea, however, saying that she’d been corresponding with Emmanuel Schrock, an Amish man from Millersburg, Ohio, whom she’d met when they’d both visited Sarasota, Florida, the past winter.

“I actually think Lamar is interested in you,” Clara had said.

“Jah, I know,” Emma mumbled, talking out loud, as she flicked the reins to get her horse moving a bit faster. “I just hope he realizes that I’m not interested in him.”

Not quite ready to go home, she decided to stop by a place she and Ivan used to go when they were courting. It was near a pond about four miles from where she lived. If she went there now and didn’t stay too long, she should still have plenty of time to get back before supper. Besides, she’d only be cooking for herself this evening, so it really didn’t matter what time she ate.

Heading on down the road, Emma slowed her horse to watch an English man on his tractor mowing his acreage. She smiled, noticing the tree swallows as they swooped and dove at the bugs flying out of the grass from the mower. The birds brought up another scene in her mind from long ago. This scene was of Ivan, strong and capable, walking behind their mules as he worked in the fields. She couldn’t help smiling back then, either, as the birds followed after her husband, looking for an easy meal.

As Emma guided her horse and buggy off the main highway and onto a narrow, graveled road, more memories flooded her mind. When she and Ivan had come here, either alone or with friends, they’d often shared a picnic supper, fished in the pond, or taken leisurely walks along the wooded paths. Not too much had changed since then, except the trees were much taller now. Back then everything had been more overgrown, of course, and not nearly as many people used the pond as they did now. Even so, coming here gave her a peaceful, nostalgic feeling.

Emma stopped her horse and buggy in a grassy spot, climbed down, and secured the horse to a tree. She was about to take off on foot in search of her and Ivan’s special spot when Lamar pulled up in his open rig.

“Wie geht’s?” he called.

Oh no. What’s he doing here?
Emma forced a smile. “I’m doing fine. How about you?” she asked, a little less enthusiastically.

“Real well, thanks.” He climbed down from his buggy and lifted a fishing pole out. “Came here to do a little fishing. Would you like to join me, Emma?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

She shook her head. “I’m going for a walk and need to be alone.”
There, that ought to discourage him
.

A look of hurt replaced Lamar’s twinkle, causing Emma to regret her choice of words. It seemed like she was always saying the wrong thing when she was with Lamar, and even though she wanted to discourage him, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“There’s a spot up the path that used to be my husband’s and my special place,” she said, pointing in that direction. “I like to go there sometimes and spend time alone, thinking about the past and thanking God for the wonderful years Ivan and I had together.”

Lamar gave a brief nod. “I understand. My wife, Margaret, and I had a good life, too.”

From the look of longing Emma saw on Lamar’s face, she figured he probably missed his wife as much as she missed Ivan.

“I’ll let you get to your walk now. Nice seeing you, Emma.” Lamar flashed her a quick smile and headed off toward the pond.

Emma turned and started up the path, seeking her place of pleasant memories and solace. The afternoon breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, and she noticed several bees dancing on the flower blossoms. What a lovely day it was for a walk.

Emma found what she was looking for a short way up the path. The area was overgrown, but she recognized the leafy branches of the huge maple tree, where several clumps of wild irises grew nearby. A large boulder sat beneath the tree—the perfect place for young lovers to sit and make plans for the future. It was here that Ivan had first declared his love and told Emma he wanted to marry her. It was here that Emma had agreed to become his wife. And yes, it was even here in this very spot that the birds still seemed to sing their sweetest, as if to serenade her every time she came to visit this special place.

Emma took a seat on the rock and looked up. Even after all these years, her and Ivan’s initials were still there—carved deep in the wood with Ivan’s pocketknife.

Tears welled in Emma’s eyes. “Dearest Ivan, oh, I still miss you so much.”

As a young woman, Emma had been courted by a few other men—one in particular, whom she’d rather forget. But she’d never loved anyone the way she had Ivan, and she thanked God for the precious years they’d had together. She wished all couples could be as happy as she and Ivan had been.

As Emma continued to contemplate things, she thought about Pam and Stuart Johnston and wondered how they’d been getting along this week. Had Pam managed to get the chocolate stain out of her blouse? Had she accepted Stuart’s apology and forgiven him for bumping her arm? Emma was sure Stuart hadn’t done it on purpose.
I wonder if they ever have any fun together, without all that strife
.

Emma closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. “Dear Lord, please be with that troubled couple and heal their marriage. When they come to my class next week, help me to be an example of Your love—to Stuart and Pam, as well as the others in my quilting class.”