The Quilter's Daughter (6 page)

“It would be a sight better than puttin’ up with the likes of you,” Matthew shot back.

Abraham held up his hand. “Don’t start scrappin’ again. I’ve already had enough of it today, and I’m sure the womenfolk aren’t in the mood to hear it, either.”

“Maybe I’ll pay Edna a visit this afternoon,” Fannie said, taking their conversation in another direction.

“I thought you were going to take a nap.”

“I’ll go after I’ve rested awhile.”

“Why do you want to travel all the way over to Edna’s place in Strasburg?” Matthew asked.

“Cousin Edna’s always full of good advice. Maybe she can come up with some idea to solve my dilemma.”

Abraham grunted. “The only thing that fun-lovin’ woman can come up with is a good joke or two.”

Fannie shrugged. “That might be exactly what I need today.”

A
bby smiled as she watched Deborah wait on the English customer near the front of the store. She had been working at the quilt shop a few weeks now and was doing a fine job. The pleasant expression on the woman’s face and the exuberance with which she went about her tasks let Abby know that Lester’s mamm thoroughly enjoyed her work. It was almost time to close for the day, yet she was still pleasant and energetic.
She responds well to the customers, too. She also enjoys quilting and is good at it. I’m sure Deborah will be a wonderful mother-in-law.
Abby knew not everyone was blessed with a sweet mamm like hers and an easy-going
schwiegermammi
, like Deborah Mast would be.

Shortly after the last customer left the store, Lester showed up, informing his mother that he’d come by to give her a ride home.

“I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” she said. “Just need to put a couple things away.”

“That’s all right, Deborah,” Abby was quick to say. “You’ve worked hard today, and if you want to head home, I can take care of anything else that needs to be done.”

Lester moved in front of the treadle sewing machine where Abby sat. “Such a thoughtful daughter-in-law my mamm will be gettin’.”

Abby smiled. “And how about you, Lester Mast? What kind of wife do you think I’ll be?”

He chucked her under the chin and winked. “A mighty fine one, I’d have to say.”

“I’ll surely try, but you know I’m not perfect,” she replied,
taking pleasure in the feel of his calloused fingers against her skin.

“You’re even-tempered, kind, considerate, and pretty. What else could a man ask for in a wife?”

Before Abby could reply, Lester leaned closer. “Say, how about you and me goin’ out to lunch tomorrow? Maybe we can eat at the Farmstead restaurant this time.”

Abby pursed her lips. “I’d like that, but things have been busy here all week. It’s only May, yet every day we’ve had lots of customers. I wouldn’t feel right about leaving your mamm alone when things are so hectic.”

“I can manage,” Deborah called from across the room. “You two have yourselves some fun. You deserve it.”

Abby deliberated a few seconds. “I’ll tell you what. How about I bring a lunch basket for us to share out back at the picnic table? That way I’ll be close, in case your mamm needs help.”

“Sounds fine to me.” Lester grinned. “And I’ll bring the dessert.”

“Hey, Boss, where’d ya put that box of mudding tape?” Ed Munson called to Jim, who had just descended a six-foot ladder. Part of his crew had been painting the outside of a new apartment complex, while the rest of the men mudded and taped the new Sheetrock walls.

“The tape’s in the back of my van.” Jim wiped his hands on the paint rag protruding from his back pocket and glanced at the gray paint splattered all over the front of his white overalls. “If my wife could see me now, she’d have a fit.”

Linda didn’t approve of him working side-by-side with his paint crew, but there were times when they got busy and needed his help. At other times, Jim had to pick up supplies, bid jobs, or do paperwork, so the painting was left to his six employees.

“What’s this?” Ed shouted to Jim. “You usin’ some fancy paint rags these days?”

Jim’s heart palpitated when he realized what Ed held in his hands. It was that baby quilt—the one he’d forgotten to dispose
of. “Uh—it’s just an old baby blanket,” he stammered.

Ed’s reddish-brown mustache twitched when he smiled. “You and Linda plannin’ to adopt another baby?”

“This was something I picked up on our vacation to Ohio a few years ago.” Jim snatched the quilt from the man who had been working as his foreman for the last two years. “I’m planning to get rid of it.”

“I’m thinkin’ my wife would like it,” Ed said. “She’s into quilts and that kind of thing. So if you’re just gonna pitch it, I’d be happy to take it off your hands.”

If it had been anything other than the Amish baby quilt, Jim would have let Ed have it. But this was the one piece of tangible evidence that linked him to the kidnapping of an Amish baby. If he gave it to Ed, and Ed’s wife said something to Linda, Jim would have some serious explaining to do.

“I’ve—uh—already promised it to someone else,” Jim lied. “In fact, I’ll be taking the quilt to them as soon as I get off work today.”

Ed shrugged and turned away. “Guess I’d best go back to the van and get that mudding tape.”

Jim glanced at his watch. It was only two o’clock. Too early to call it quits for the day. However, this was something he felt couldn’t wait, so he decided to take a drive to Tacoma, where he purchased most of his paint and supplies.

“I’m going to Parker Paint,” he called to Ed as the man closed the van door and headed back with the box of mudding tape. “Make sure the guys stay on course while I’m gone.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Ed yelled over his shoulder.

A short time later, Jim drove into downtown Tacoma. When he spotted a thrift store, he pulled into the parking lot, grabbed the quilt, and rushed inside.

The middle-aged woman at the front desk was busy waiting on a customer, so Jim stood off to one side until they had finished with their business. When the elderly gentleman left, Jim stepped forward and plunked the quilt down for the clerk’s inspection. “Would you be interested in this?”

She slipped on her reading glasses and studied the covering
intently. “Why, this looks like an Amish quilt.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Since the items we take in here are on a consignment-only basis, why don’t you tell me how much you would like it to be sold for?”

Jim frowned. “Can’t you just buy it from me outright?”

“Sorry, but that’s not our policy.”

This isn’t going so well. I thought it would be easy to get rid of my albatross.
He deliberated a few more seconds and finally pushed the quilt toward the clerk. “I guess you can have it then.”

Her dark eyebrows rose a notch, and she squinted at him. “What?”

“I said, you can have the quilt, free and clear. I just need—I mean, I want to get rid of the silly thing.”

The woman pursed her lips as she fingered one edge of the covering. “This is a very nice piece, sir. Are you sure you want to leave it with no payment in return?”

“I’m positive.”

“Very well then. Let me write you a receipt.”

Jim transferred his weight from one foot to the other. “No, no. That won’t be necessary. Do whatever you want with the quilt, and I’ll be on my way.” He whirled around and rushed out of the store, feeling as though a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The only evidence linking him to a missing Amish baby was gone, and he never had to worry about it again.

Linda lowered herself onto the park bench, anxious to read the romance novel she’d recently purchased. It helped to immerse herself in someone else’s complicated life, even if it was only fiction.

She glanced up at Jimmy to be sure he was okay. There were no other children at the park right now, so she hoped he would play happily by himself. Relieved to see that he seemed content to play on the slide, she opened her book to the first page. She’d only read a few lines when the sound of children’s laughter pulled her attention away from her book. She looked up and
saw Allen rush over to the slide where Jimmy was playing while his mother headed her way.

“Sure is a nice day. Won’t be long and summer will be here,” Beth said as she seated herself on the bench beside Linda. She took a sip from the Styrofoam cup in her hand. “Umm. . .this mocha latté is delicious. I would have bought two if I’d known you were going to be here.”

“That’s okay,” Linda replied. “I prefer tea over coffee anyway.”

“Have you ever tried an iced herbal raspberry tea?”

Linda shook her head. “I usually drink plain black or orange pekoe.”

“Mommy, Mommy, watch me go down the slide on my belly!” Jimmy shouted, interrupting their conversation.

Linda stood and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Be careful, Jimmy! I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be okay!” The boy flopped onto his stomach and skimmed down the slide, giggling all the way. When he came to the bottom, he grabbed the edge of the slide and did a somersault to the ground.

“Boys will be boys,” Beth said with a chuckle.

Linda inhaled deeply and blew out her breath in a quick puff that lifted her bangs off her forehead. “I wish I could wrap Jimmy in a bubble and keep him safe from any harm.”

“That would be nice, but think of all the fun our kids would miss if we shielded them in such a way.”

Linda dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. Was she selfish for wanting to protect her child? From the first day they’d adopted Jimmy, Jim had accused her of being over-protective. She tried not to be, but Jimmy was their only son, and she loved him so much. When Jimmy turned six on April 15, in his excitement to see his cousins Cameron and Pam who lived in Idaho, he’d fallen off the porch and sprained his ankle. Linda had felt the child’s pain as if it were her own.

“I’m glad I ran into you today,” Beth said, breaking into Linda’s thoughts. “I’ve been wanting to tell you about the vacation Bible school our church is having next month. I was
hoping you would let Jimmy attend.”

Bible school?
Linda had attended vacation Bible school when she was a young girl, but she only went then to please her friend Carrie who lived next door. She’d been ten years old at the time and had received a Bible for memorizing five scripture verses and being there every day.
I wonder whatever happened to that old Bible? Did Jim throw it out after we got married, or is it buried somewhere on our bookshelf in the living room?

“Anyway,” Beth continued, “the sessions will be from ten in the morning until noon during the third week of June. There will be Bible stories, crafts, puppets, and snacks.”

Linda was prepared to tell Beth that she didn’t think Jimmy was ready for Bible school, when Beth added, “The classes are for preschool kids all the way up to the sixth grade. Since Jimmy and Allen are both in the same grade, they’ll be together.”

“I don’t know—”

“If you’d like to come along, that would be great. We’re always in need of helpers.”

“It would probably be better than sitting at home feeling sorry for myself,” Linda mumbled.

Beth touched Linda’s arm. “Is something troubling you?”

Linda’s only response was a slow nod.