The Healing Quilt
Authors: Wanda E. Brunstetter
© 2014 by Wanda E. Brunstetter
Print ISBN 978-1-61626-087-3
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63058-552-5
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63058-553-2
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
All German-Dutch words are taken from the
Revised Pennsylvania German Dictionary
found in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Cover photography: Bandon Hill Photos
For more information about Wanda E. Brunstetter, please access the author’s website at the following Internet address:
www.wandabrunstetter.com
Published by Shiloh Run Press, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683,
www.shilohrunpress.com
.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.
Printed in the United States of America.
Emma’s Raisin Molasses Cookies
EDICATION
To my husband, Richard Sr., who shares my love for combing the beach, and to my son, Richard Jr., who enjoys being on his boat and gave me the idea for one of the characters in this book.
I will seek that which was lost, and bring again that which was driven away, and will bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen that which was sick, saith the L
ORD
God
.
E
ZEKIEL
34:16
HAPTER
1
Sarasota, Florida
S
eating herself on a weathered, wooden bench, Emma Miller gazed at the waves lapping gently against the shore. The soothing scene almost lulled her to sleep. Lido Beach was peaceful on this early January morning, and there weren’t many people milling about yet. It almost felt as if she and Lamar had the whole beach to themselves. This morning after breakfast, Lamar had talked her into catching the bus and coming here so they could enjoy the beach before it got too crowded.
Wiggling her bare toes in the sand, Emma watched as her husband rolled his trousers up to his knees and waded into the crystal-clear, turquoise water. Lamar seemed happy and contented, and thanks to the balmy weather, his arthritis didn’t bother him nearly so much.
Lamar was definitely getting around more easily, and that made it worth moving down here for the winter.
Unfortunately, after only two weeks of living in their newly purchased vacation home inside the village of Pinecraft, Emma was bored. Sure, there was plenty to do. They could visit other Amish and Mennonites; spend time on the beach looking for shells; or ride their three-wheeler bikes to the park or one of the many stores and restaurants in the area, since horse and buggies were not allowed. But Emma wanted more. She needed something meaningful and constructive to do.
“Come join me,” Lamar called, looking eagerly at Emma. “The water’s warm, and there are lots of shells!” His thick gray hair and matching beard stood in stark contrast to the turquoise-blue water behind him.
Emma smiled and waved in response. She wasn’t in the mood to get her dress wet this morning. For that matter, she wasn’t in the mood for much of anything just now. Emma missed her family and friends in Shipshewana, Indiana. She even missed the cold, wintry days, sitting by the fire with a cup of hot coffee while she worked on one of her quilting projects. Fortunately, Emma’s daughter, Mary, and her family lived next door and were keeping an eye on Emma and Lamar’s Indiana home, as well as feeding and caring for Emma’s goats.
Emma’s sister, Rachel, had planned to come down for a few weeks, but one of Rachel’s daughters was sick, and she’d gone to her house to help out while she recuperated, so she might not make it, after all. Emma couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
Maybe I should call Mary and ask her to send me some of my quilting supplies
, Emma thought.
It would be good to have something productive to do while we are here
.
“Emma, aren’t you going to join me?” Lamar hollered, holding up a large shell he’d found. “You oughta come and take a look at this one. It’s the best shell yet!”
“Maybe later,” she called in response.
Lamar waded out of the water and plodded across the white sand, stopping in front of Emma. “Is something wrong? You usually enjoy looking for shells with me.”
Making circles in the sand with her big toe, Emma sighed. “I do, Lamar, and don’t take this wrong, but I wish there was more for me to do than come here to the beach or bike around Pinecraft, where I end up talking to people about family back home. I need something meaningful to do with my time.”
He took a seat on the bench beside her and placed the colorful shell in her lap. “Why don’t you teach some quilting classes? We talked about that before we left Indiana.”
She gave a slow nod. “
Jah
, that idea was mentioned, but I’m not sure there would be enough interest in quilting here in Florida. At home where so many tourists come to learn about the Amish, people are eager to learn how to quilt. Here where it’s warm and sunny most of the winter, people are probably more interested in spending time on the beach and being involved in other outdoor activities.”
“You won’t know if you don’t try.” He patted her arm affectionately. “Why don’t we run an ad in the local newspaper and put some flyers up around the area? Maybe you could talk to the owner of the quilt shop on Bahia Vista Street and see if you could teach your classes there.”
Emma shook her head. “If I’m going to teach quilting, I prefer that it be done in our own home, where it’s less formal and people will feel more relaxed.”
“I understand,” Lamar said. “And if it’s meant for you to have another six-week quilting class, then people will come.”
Emma pursed her lips as she mulled over the idea. “If I did hold some quilting classes, would you be willing to help me again?”
“Of course. I can explain the history of quilts at the introductory class and be there to help out whenever I’m needed. It’ll be a little different in our new surroundings. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it as much as I have all the other times I’ve helped you teach back home.” Lamar smiled, his green eyes twinkling like fireflies on a summer’s night. “It will be interesting to see who God sends to our classes this time around.”
Emma nodded, anticipation welling in her soul. “Okay then. Let’s start advertising right away.”
Chicago, Illinois
Bruce “B.J.” Jensen stood in front of the easel he’d set up near the window in his studio. He tipped his head, scrutinizing his most recent painting—ocean waves lapping against the shore as the sun began to set.
B.J. frowned. He hadn’t been to the ocean since his wife, Brenda, died five years ago. For that matter, he hadn’t been anywhere outside of Chicago since then. At first his responsibilities as an art teacher had kept him tied to home. After he retired a year ago, freelance jobs kept him too busy to travel. But he was running out of time. Pretty soon, if he didn’t see some of the things he’d been wanting to, it would be too late.
He stared out the window at the fresh-fallen snow. B.J. had always loved winter and appreciated that he lived where all four seasons could be enjoyed. But this year for the first time, the snow and bitter cold winds Chicago was known for really bothered B.J., and he was ready for a change.
If only I had more time
, he thought with regret.
Time to see all the things I’ve missed and time to spend with my family and friends
.
B.J. had been diagnosed with cancer two years ago—just a few days after his sixtieth birthday. Recently, he’d found out that the cancer had spread from his throat to other parts of his body. But he hadn’t told his daughters, Robyn and Jill; they both had busy lives of their own, and he didn’t want them to worry. They thought the cancer surgery had been successful and that he was in remission. He didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth. Knowing his daughters, they’d set everything aside to take care of him. B.J. didn’t want that. He didn’t want their sympathy, either. Maybe when he reached the final stages he would tell them. Until then, he planned to live each day to its fullest, while seeing and doing some of the things he’d always wanted to do. First off would be a trip to Sarasota, Florida, to see the Gulf of Mexico and paint some beautiful scenes on the beach.