The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club (20 page)

“He can’t talk to you at the moment,” the nurse replied. “He’s being examined by one of our doctors.”

 

Ruby Lee’s heart started to pound. Gene was in the emergency room being examined by a doctor? Something terrible must have happened. “W–was he in an accident? Is he seriously hurt?”

 

“He’s having trouble breathing and complained of feeling dizzy when he first came in. We’ve run some tests to see if it’s his heart, and—”

 

“I’ll be right there!” Hands shaking, Ruby Lee ended the call and turned to face Paul and Stuart. “W–would you please let Emma know that I had to go? My husband’s been taken to the emergency room.” Without waiting for either man’s reply, she gathered up her sewing and rushed out the door.

 
C
HAPTER
18
Mishawaka
 

P
am glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was eleven o’clock, which meant the quilting class would be over in an hour.

 

She opened the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of iced tea, wondering how Stuart was doing. She hated to see him go alone but knew her place was at home, taking care of the kids. Although Sherry was feeling a little better this morning, she wasn’t well enough to leave with a sitter. Poor little thing hadn’t been able to keep anything down until early this morning when Pam had given her some ginger tea and a small piece of toast.

 

A niggle of guilt settled over Pam as she remembered that she hadn’t fixed Stuart any breakfast—although once in a while, he should be able to manage on his own. After all, he had to have known she was busy taking care of Sherry, and he wasn’t completely helpless in the kitchen—just lazy and too dependent on her.

 

Pam glanced out the window to see what Devin was up to. She didn’t see him jumping on the trampoline, but then she remembered he’d said something about playing in the tree house. Stuart had built it last summer so that he and Devin could climb up there once in a while and have a little father-son time. Trouble was Devin was the only one who used it. Pam had seen Stuart go into the tree house just once, and that was right after he’d built it.

 

If he didn’t spend so much time in front of the TV watching sports, he might take more of an interest in the kids, Pam fumed. Doesn’t he realize how quickly they’re growing? Soon they’ll be grown and moved out on their own, and then it’ll be impossible to get back those wasted years when he should have been doing more things with his family
.

 

Knowing she needed to focus on something positive, and confident that Sherry was still sleeping, Pam decided to take her iced tea outside on the porch where she could enjoy the breeze that had come up a short time ago.

 

Stepping outside and taking a seat in one of the wicker chairs, Pam glanced toward the pink and purple petunias she’d planted in her flower garden last week. They were so beautiful and added just the right splash of color to the area where she’d put them.

 

Pam’s thoughts halted when she heard a whimpering noise. Glancing up at the tree house in the maple tree, she realized it must be Devin. She set down her glass and hurried across the yard.

 

“Devin,” she called. “Are you okay?”

 

More whimpering followed by some sniffles.

 

Heart pounding, she climbed the ladder to the tree house where she found her son huddled in one corner, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks.

 

“What’s wrong, Devin?” she asked, kneeling on the wooden floor beside him. “Are you hurt?”

 

He shook his head. “I–I’m scared ‘cause Daddy might leave and never come back.”

 

“Now why would you think that?”

 

“My friend Andy’s dad left, and Andy never sees him no more.” Devin sniffed and swiped his hand over his damp cheeks. “If Daddy left, I’d really be sad.”

 

Pam slipped her arm around Devin’s shoulders and drew him close. “Your daddy’s not going to move out of our house.”

 

“Are—are you sure?”

 

“Yes, I’m very sure,” Pam said with a nod, although secretly she’d been worried about that very thing.

 

 

Shipshewana

 

“What did you say this is called?” Star asked when Emma placed the pie on the table and asked her to cut it into even pieces.

 

“Angel cream pie,” Emma replied. “My grandmother used to make it, and she gave me the recipe when I got married.”

 

“Speaking of grandmothers—you sort of remind me of my grandma. Not in the way you look, but the way you treat people. Your kindness and sense of humor make me think of her, too.”

 

Emma smiled. Even though Star was wearing that black sweatshirt again, it was good to see that the hood wasn’t on her head today. The young woman had a pretty face, and it was nice to see her tender expression when she spoke of her grandmother—although Emma still didn’t understand why Star had purple streaks in her hair, wore a nose ring, and had a tattoo on her neck. But then, there were many things she didn’t understand—especially when it came to some Englishers. Even so, Emma knew God had created everyone, and that each person was special to Him.

 

“I miss my grandma so much.” Star’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “She always did nice things for me. Not like my mom, who only thinks of herself.”

 

“What about your father? Where is he?” Emma questioned, wondering how any mother could only think of herself. It wasn’t the Amish way to be selfish like that.

 

“Beats me. I’ve never met him. He ran out on us when I was a baby, and Mom ended up marrying some loser when I was eight years old.” Star’s forehead creased as she frowned. “His name was Wes Morgan, and he was really mean to Mom.”

 

“Was he mean to you as well?”

 

“Not really. He pretty much ignored me. Wes died a few years after they were married, when he stepped out into traffic and got hit by a car. Mom and I have been on our own ever since.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Emma said, gently touching Star’s arm.

 

“Yeah, it hasn’t been easy, but I’m glad Wes is out of the picture.” Star wrinkled her nose. “Now Mom’s thinkin’ of marrying this guy named Mike.”

 

“I take it you don’t care much for Mike?”

 

“Nope. Don’t like him at all. He hangs out at our place all the time, expects Mom to wait on him, and tries to tell me how I should live.” Star motioned to the pie. “All the pieces are cut now. Is there anything else you want me to do?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

 

Emma handed Star a serving tray. “You can put the pie on this, along with some plates and forks.” She gathered up five plates and forks, which she then handed to Star. “Before you take these out to the others, I want you to know that you’re welcome to come by here anytime if you should ever need to talk.”

 

Star blinked a couple of times and stared at Emma with a look of disbelief. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

 

“Not at all. I’m a good listener, and perhaps I may be able to offer you some advice.”

 

“Thanks. I might take you up on that offer sometime.” Wearing a smile on her face, Star picked up the tray and headed into the next room. Emma followed with another tray that held the coffee and mugs.

 

When Emma entered her sewing room, she was surprised to see only Paul and Stuart sitting at the table. “Where’s Ruby Lee?” she asked.

 

“She got a phone call saying her husband had been taken to the emergency room, so she had to leave,” Paul explained.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Emma said, feeling concern. “I certainly hope Ruby Lee’s husband will be okay.”

 

 

Goshen

 

When Ruby Lee entered the room where Gene had been examined, she found him sitting on the edge of the table buttoning his shirt.

 

“What happened?” she asked, rushing to his side, wanting to help with the buttons.

 

He waved his hand. “Don’t look so worried; I’m not going to die. The doctor said I had an anxiety attack, but I’m feeling much better.”

 

“What brought that on?” she asked. “Did something happen during the board meeting to upset you?”

 

“Yeah. The subject of adding on to the church came up again, and we ended up in an explosive meeting. I think all the bickering got to me, because my chest tightened up and I felt woozy and like I couldn’t breathe.”

 

Ruby Lee clutched his arm. “This whole mess with the church isn’t good for your health. Surely you can see that. How much longer do you intend to put yourself through this, Gene?”

 

“I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“You might be fine now, but what about the next time? You could end up really having a heart attack if you keep subjecting yourself to all this conflict with the board members. Won’t you reconsider and look for another church? And what about me? I don’t know what I would do if I lost you—especially over something like this.”

 

He shook his head. “I’ve told you before, God called me to shepherd this flock, and until He releases me from that call, I’m staying put.”

 

“What about the plans you have for adding on to the church? Are you going to keep fighting for it or let the idea go by the wayside?”

 

“I don’t know. I’m trusting God to give me further direction, and I feel confident that everything will work out as it should—for our church building, our congregation, and for us, Ruby Lee.”

 

I wish I had your optimism, she thought. If I believed for one minute that it would do any good, I’d speak to each of the board members right now and give them a piece of my mind!

 

 

Shipshewana

 

By the time Jan turned onto the road his house was on, he was out of breath from peddling his bike so hard. After he’d left Emma’s, he’d gone to the intersection where Paul had seen the dead dog, needing to know if it was Brutus who’d been hit by a car. But the only sign of the accident was a large bloodstain on the pavement. The body of the dog was gone. He could hardly look at the crimson spot without imagining his faithful pet lying there lifeless. It had been all he could do to call the Humane Society and ask if they had his dog. He’d been told that a German shepherd had been killed and brought in earlier today, but since there were no tags or license to identify the dog’s owner, they’d already disposed of the body.

 

It’s just as well that I didn’t see the dog’s remains, Jan thought. If it was Brutus, I don’t think I coulda stood seein’ him lyin’ there, dead
.

 

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