The Quilter's Daughter (32 page)

“What did she say?”

He tipped his head and stared at her in a peculiar way. “Didn’t Mom tell you what she wanted?”

“No. She asked to speak with you, but her voice sounded strained. I got the impression it was something important.”

Jim flopped into the closest chair and released a puff of air.

“I hope you don’t have any fresh paint on those overalls,” Linda said, stepping forward. “I wouldn’t want—”

“It’s dried paint, Linda, so don’t worry.”

She recoiled, feeling that familiar hurt whenever he snapped at her. “Sorry.”

“Do you always have to look for something to com- plain about?”

“I—I wasn’t.”

He pulled the hat off his head, flopping it over one knee. “Do you want to hear what Mom said or not?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then have a seat.”

Linda returned to her spot on the couch and waited for Jim to continue.

“Mom said Dad hasn’t been feeling well, and she wanted me to talk him into seeing the doctor. Since I knew I’d be working late, I gave Dad a jingle during my dinner break.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much. He made light of the whole thing and guessed that Mom had put me up to calling.”

Linda felt immediate concern. If Bob was anything like most men, she figured that his making light of it meant he was sicker than he was admitting. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“Guess we won’t know until he sees the doctor.”

“Do you think we should go to Ohio, Jim? I mean, just in case—”

He shook his head. “I can’t get away from either of the jobs I’m on right now. I’m sure Dad will be fine.”

“But how can you be certain of that when he hasn’t been to the doctor yet?”

“Trust me, I know my dad. If he says he’s feeling better, he probably is.” He stood and started for the door leading to the hallway.

“Where are you going?”

“Upstairs to bed. I’m exhausted.”

Linda watched Jim’s retreating form, wishing he would stay awhile and visit with her. In the days before her conversion, she would have probably whined and begged. But now, as a Christian wife trying to win her husband to the Lord, she knew the best thing to do was keep silent. She hurried to turn off the living room lights and followed him upstairs. Since tomorrow was Sunday, maybe they could spend some time together as a family after she and Jimmy got home from church.

Abby stood at the window in the small loft above Elizabeth’s living room. This would be her sleeping quarters for the next few weeks, until she and Edna headed back to Pennsylvania. It was a pleasant room, just high enough for her to stand without bumping her head. Against one wall was a single bed made of knotty pine. A matching dresser sat against the other wall, and a wooden rocking chair was positioned near the window. The moon shone bright and clear tonight, casting rays of golden light against the snowy yard below. She was keenly aware of how quiet and isolated it was here in the mountains.
It’s almost eerie
, she thought.
I wonder how many wild animals are out there lurking about?

Abby shivered and rubbed her hands against the sleeves of her long flannel nightgown. She needed to focus on something else, or she would be awake all night, thinking some strange creature would sneak into the house and attack her while she slept.

Her thoughts went to Edna and Elizabeth, who had stayed up until after eleven, chattering and getting caught up on one another’s lives. Not wishing to appear impolite, Abby had joined the conversation by providing a listening ear and answering any questions that had been asked of her. Elizabeth seemed like a
nice enough woman, and she was much younger than Abby had expected. She also seemed to be full of energy and exuberated with the kind of joy Abby had once known.

She leaned against the windowsill and sighed.
If Elizabeth lost her son and husband, how can she be so cheerful and positive?
She turned from the window and flopped onto the bed.
Maybe it’s an act, to make people think she’s doing okay, the way I’ve done with Mom and Abraham’s family. Maybe deep down inside, Elizabeth is hurting as much as I am and doesn’t want anyone to know it
.

Abby closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly. She had given up saying her nighttime prayers. Truth was, since Lester died she’d only pretended to pray before and after meals, as well as during church. There wasn’t much point in praying when God didn’t answer her prayers. She’d prayed for Lester and asked the Lord to keep him safe and bless their upcoming marriage. And what good had that done?

Grief rose in her throat like bile, and scalding tears seeped under Abby’s lashes, rolling onto her cheeks. She leaned over the bed and reached into her small satchel, pulling out a handkerchief— the same one Mary Ann had made her several months ago—the one with the initials
A. M
. embroidered in one corner.

Abby dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose.
Oh, why couldn’t it have been me who was killed in that fire instead of Lester?

Linda had just drifted off to sleep when she was awakened by the sound of deep moaning. She turned her head and saw Jim writhing about and punching his pillow. She was tempted to wake him but thought better of it, remembering how irritable he got if his sleep was disturbed.

“No, baby. Put the Amish quilt back,” he mumbled. “No. I said, no.”

Amish quilt? Baby? What was Jim talking about? Linda knew he must be dreaming, and since they had an Amish covering on their bed, the fact that he’d mentioned a quilt did make sense. But she couldn’t figure out what would cause him to dream about a baby. Had he recently been watching a rerun of
Witness
on TV?
No, there were no babies in the movie that she recalled. Maybe Jim’s dream was a combination of things locked away in his subconscious. The Amish quilt, which Linda had wanted a long time. The baby they had adopted when they’d gone to the East Coast and toured Amish country. That’s all it was. . .just a silly dream full of blended things that had occurred in the past.

Linda was relieved when Jim’s moaning subsided and turned to soft snores. Maybe now she could get some sleep. In the morning, if she didn’t forget, she would ask if Jim remembered the dream.

A
bby proceeded down the lane on foot, heading to the general store and mindful of the snow that still lay in patches. She couldn’t believe she had been in Montana two weeks already. She was beginning to like it here. The trees seemed greener, the air fresher, and other than Cousin Edna, no one knew her situation.

Although Abby still felt empty inside, at least she didn’t have the pressure of trying to measure up to what others expected of her. She’d always been a hard worker, but truthfully, she was getting tired of doing chores all the time in order to keep from thinking about Lester and what her quilt shop had done to him. All she wanted to do was rest and saturate her mind with the things of nature, the way she could do here in the Kootenai National Forest, where it was ever so peaceful and quiet.

When Abby reached the mailbox at the end of the driveway, she slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and retrieved the letter she’d written to her mother last night. She knew Mom was worried about her; she could read it between the lines of the letter she’d received last week. Mom probably hoped Abby wouldn’t be gone too long, but Cousin Edna seemed in no hurry to leave, and that was fine with Abby.

When Abby opened the mailbox, she was disappointed to see that the mail had already come. If she put the letter to Mom inside now, it wouldn’t go out until tomorrow. Still, it was better than taking it back to Elizabeth’s house and trudging down here again in the morning. So, she placed the envelope inside the
metal box and lifted the red flag.

Thumbing through the stack of mail that had been delivered, she noticed a letter for Edna bearing her daughter Gretchen’s return address.
Should I take the mail up to the house now or continue on to the store?
Abby decided on the latter, figuring the letter for Edna was probably nothing important and that she could wait another hour or so to read it. She dropped all the mail into her black canvas satchel and kept walking.

A short time later, Abby stepped inside the general store, feeling a rush of warm air that quickly dispelled the chill she had encountered on her trek over here.

“Can I help ya with somethin’?” the young Amish girl behind the counter asked.

Abby rubbed her hands briskly together and shook her head. “I just need a couple of items, but I think I can find them.”

“All right then. Let me know if you need help findin’ anything.”

“Jah, I will.” Abby proceeded to the back of the store, where the notions were kept. She was almost out of writing paper and planned to buy a new tablet and maybe some colored pencils for drawing. Elizabeth had asked her to pick up two spools of white thread, as well.

When that was done, Abby decided to climb the stairs and see what might be up there for sale. She’d been in the store a couple of times since her arrival but had never thought to look in the loft above.

At the top of the landing she spotted a couple of men’s black felt hats lying on a chest of drawers that was also for sale. There were several other pieces of Amish-made furniture—two rocking chairs, a small table, and a couple of straight-backed chairs. To the left, four quilts hung on a makeshift clothesline. The sight of them almost brought Abby to the floor in a pool of tears, but she gritted her teeth and looked away. She knew it was silly to feel so anxious whenever she looked at a quilt, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Quilts were part of the Amish life. They were warm and cozy, and she had covered up with one
nearly every night since she was a child.

Guess it’s not the quilt itself that bothers me so much, but the sight of one hanging in a store reminds me of my own quilt shop and the grief it caused the day it burned to the ground
.

Abby moved slowly around the small upstairs and finally headed back down, deciding there was nothing she needed.

Up front, near the counter, stood a refrigerated dairy case where Abby found a brick of Swiss cheese, her favorite kind. She was surprised to see that it had been made by one of the cheese places near her hometown in Berlin. Abby missed Ohio, especially the times spent with Lester during their courting days.

For a moment her sorrow dissipated, as she allowed memories of Lester to bathe her in warm thoughts. They had gone to the cheese store down the street from her quilt shop on several occasions, sampling the various cheeses, laughing, and talking with others they knew. Seeing the cheese now was a painful reminder that Lester was gone, yet in some ways it was comforting to find something so familiar here.

Abby drew in a deep breath.
At one time I thought Lester and I would be together as husband and wife for many years, and that our love could withstand anything, even time spent apart. But now he’s gone, and others expect me to move on
. She blinked against the tears clinging to her lashes. Despite her resolve to push thoughts of Lester aside, Abby often dreamed of him. Not the nightmare with fire and smoke, but dreams of happier days, when they’d been courting.
Help me, Lord. Help me let go of Lester if I need to, and show me if there’s any meaning in life
.