Miriam's Quilt (21 page)

“We were all hurt by Yost’s arrest,” he said. “Susie reminded me how badly I had treated him. I have repented sorely for my behavior. But you were not like that. You showed him great love, spending hours in the kitchen cooking rice pudding and baking pies for him. I am proud of how you acted.” He took her hand. “What has changed?”

Miriam wanted to unburden her heart, but her secret would only multiply the pain, not lessen it. “I have been upset about what happened to Seth, that’s all. I will do better. I promise.”

“Yost has been unhappy for a long time. I am only now recognizing how unhappy. He has been worse, much worse, since you started avoiding him. Do you not see it?”

“Are you saying it is my fault?”

Dat shook his head. “Of course not. But for some reason, you are like the rain to his dry pasture. He needs your approval. Without it, he will dry up and wither away. Has your broken heart made you bitter?”

Miriam felt the pressing need to defend herself. “I am not the reason Yost is miserable. His own conscience plagues him.”

“All the more reason to show forth an increase in love, bringing him to repentance. He’ll only find real happiness when he opens his heart and lets forgiveness flow into him.”

Miriam felt like a twisting tornado.

How can I tell you, Dat, that every time I lay eyes on my brother, I
see Seth lying in that bed, pale and weak, with bruises on his face and a
gray plaster cast wrapped around his purple fingers? Seth
—
kind, compassionate Seth
—
didn
’
t deserve that.

Her eyes stung with tears that she blinked away before they betrayed her. She cared deeply about Seth Lambright. And her own brother had done him unspeakable violence. Sometimes she felt as if Seth were her only friend, and if she lost him because of Yost, she wouldn’t be able to bear the loneliness. Her brother and sister had alienated the entire community, and the two of them were too wrapped up in their own problems to care about Miriam.

She cleared her throat. “I will do better.”

The set of her chin must have convinced Dat that she would say no more. He gave an almost inaudible sigh and stood up. “I know you will, Miriam. For Yost’s sake.”

He trudged up the steps and into the house as the wind whipped through the trees and moaned a lonely tune.

With her conscience hanging around her neck like an iron yoke, Miriam shoved the rest of the clean laundry into the basket before it blew away. She ducked her head into the wind and ran to the house with her full basket. At the kitchen table, she folded clothes and carted them upstairs to put in drawers.

The wind whistled around the house. It seemed to increase in force with every passing minute. Miriam hoped they weren’t in store for a tornado.

Downstairs, the front door slammed shut, probably by the force of the wind, and she heard Dat yelling—not the yelling that accompanied anger, but the-house-is-on-fire kind of yelling.

“Miriam!” Dat called loudly enough for the neighbors to hear him. Was it a tornado after all?

Depositing the piles of clothes on her bed, she ran downstairs. Yost stood in the living room, clutching his bleeding left hand. Miriam caught her breath. “What happened?”

Dat ran from the kitchen with a towel. “The wind slammed his hand in the barn door and pinched it right bad.”

Sweat beaded on Yost’s forehead, and his face glowed white as a sheet. His breath was ragged and shallow, testifying to his excruciating pain. Miriam rushed to his side and directed him to the sofa before he fell over.

Yost groaned as Dat wrapped the towel lightly around his hand.

“We are going to the doctor. Take care of him while I hitch the buggy.” Dat ran out the front door, and the wind slammed it shut behind him.

Susie appeared from the kitchen, and Callie and Raymond ran down the stairs. “What happened to Yost?” Callie said.

Miriam wrapped her fingers around Yost’s arm. “He hurt his hand. Go upstairs and tell Mamm that we are taking him to the doctor.”

Her little brothers did as they were told. Susie stood over Miriam and Yost, wringing her hands and fidgeting something terrible.

Yost panted in agony as Miriam lifted the blood-soaked towel from his hand.

His three middle fingernails were purple, and the nail on his pinky finger was completely torn away. All four fingers had gashes on the palm side, and the other side sported deep ridges where the door had pinched him. The skin there was blue but not broken.

“Susie, warm up some water on the stove and bring the first-aid kit.”

Susie ran from the room.

Miriam turned to Yost. “If we get some of this blood washed off, we can see how deep the cuts are. Can you stand to soak it?”

Yost stared into her face as a different kind of pain filled his eyes. “Miriam,” he whispered, “I’ll do anything to make you love me again.”

His eyes, his voice, his painful vulnerability were like hammers to Miriam’s hard heart. She melted like warm butter. Clutching his good hand, she pulled Yost toward her and kissed him on the cheek.

“I didn’t want you to find out,” he moaned. “I am so ashamed, Miriam. Please, please, forgive me. I think I’ll die if you hate me.”

It was impossible to harden herself against such a plea. Yost was her brother, not her enemy, not the evil boy she had made him out to be. Had she been swimming in self-pity for so long that she didn’t even recognize it anymore?

“Jonas got so mad at Seth. Scott is Jonas’s friend from the mill, and he said he could make it so Seth never bothered Jonas’s mamm again. I thought we were just going to scare Seth, and then Scott went wild. He hit him over and over, and Jonas and I didn’t do anything but stand there. We didn’t mean for it to get that far. Now you know what a coward I am.” He held up his bleeding hand. “I deserve this—for what I did to Seth and for what happened with you and Ephraim. I deserve all your silence, but I cannot bear my just desserts.”

Miriam put her palm to his cheek. “Hush now. Lean back and rest your head. The pain must be something terrible.” She carefully rolled up his sleeve. “I have been pitying myself because of Ephraim. The attack was a perfect excuse to punish you, all of you, and show you how hurt I felt.”

Yost clamped his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as she gently tried to straighten his fingers. “I’ve only cared about myself even as I ruined your life,” he said. “I’m sorry about Ephraim.”

Miriam twitched the corners of her mouth. “My life is not exactly ruined. I am learning to be happy without Ephraim.”

Yost covered his eyes with his hand to try to block out the pain. “He is a fool.”

“Do not say such things.”

Susie came into the room with a pan of warm water and some towels. “I will go find the bandages.”

Miriam tested the water. Lukewarm. “This will sting,” she said as she lowered his hand into the pan.

Yost flinched and hissed but he stayed put as she gently stroked the smudges and blood from his hand. Susie brought the special antibacterial soap and a washrag. Miriam dipped the rag in water and worked her way around his wounds with a circular motion.

“Can you flex your fingers?”

Holding his breath, Yost slowly made a weak fist and then straightened his fingers. “Jah, but it hurts something terrible.”

Miriam put light pressure on each finger. “I do not think any of your fingers are broken. The cuts are deep, but I believe we can avoid a doctor visit.”

“Gute. I would rather not go.”

As if summoned by talk of the doctor, Dat came through the door. “The buggy is ready.”

“I do not think he will need a doctor,” Miriam said. “The bones are sound.”

Dat came to the sofa and watched as Yost made another fist. “Are you sure?”

“They hurt, but I can move okay.”

Dat nodded, concern still painted on his face. “I’ll go unhitch the buggy.”

Susie fetched a needle while Miriam cleaned Yost’s hand. She smeared ointment on his cuts and bandaged his palm firmly. With the needle, Miriam lanced each of Yost’s fingernails and let the blood drain out. “You will lose all of these,” she said, examining the pinky finger, which looked tender indeed. She finished with another gauze pad over the palm and a wrapping around the hand to keep the other bandages from shifting.

She sent Susie off again to find the bottle of painkillers. Yost would need it badly.

He studied her face as she stacked the dirty towels. “I wish I could make it as if it never happened.”

“Will you talk to Seth?”

Doubt flickered in Yost’s eyes. “Jah. Anything you want.”

Miriam smiled sadly. “That will be enough.”

Resolve spread over his countenance, and he squared his shoulders. “I’ll do whatever I can to make everything right again.”

“I deserve this. I deserve whatever happens,” Yost said. He covered his eyes and groaned softly.

Miriam parked her buggy down Seth’s lane behind three other buggies and a silver car. She could almost hear Yost’s heart pounding in time with hers. After securing the reins, she pulled the gift box from the backseat. “It will be alright.” Her courage almost failed her. Seth’s group therapy sessions were shrouded in mystery. What happened there? How would Seth treat Yost? How would Yost react? The uncertainty rendered her breathless.

With Yost close behind, she practically tiptoed to the stable and cracked the door open. Two tall propane lanterns stood guard over a circle of folding chairs in the space between Seth’s sleeping room and the stalls. Horses peeked curiously over their stall doors to see what all the fuss was about. The air echoed softly with the animals’ quiet movements in the dimness—the swish of a tail or the rustle of hay or the occasional whinny to get someone’s attention. Seth sat next to his Englisch friend, Doug Matthews, and an Englisch woman. Three Amish women and Jonas Shetler completed the group. Jonas sat with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed, trying to be as unnoticed as possible.

Seth smiled brightly and jumped to his feet when he saw them. “You came.”

He reached out and clasped Yost’s hand. Both had injured their left hands. They could shake, at least. Seth’s expression betrayed nothing of resentment for what Yost had done—only warmth and genuine compassion.

Yost’s voice trembled like a leaf in the wind as he recited the speech he had been rehearsing all day. “Seth. I came to apologize. I am wicked and evil, and if I can do anything to mend what I have done, just tell me what.”

Seth nodded solemnly. “Denki for saying that. The arm did not hurt as badly as knowing you attacked me. That crushed me. And your sister.”

Yost’s intense whisper felt like a shout. “I know. I am very ashamed. Even before we came that night, I knew it was wrong. I avoided you because I couldn’t bear to own up to my sins.”

“Your coming here takes a lot of courage,” Seth said as he placed a hand on Yost’s shoulder. “You were caught up in emotions and actions you didn’t understand, and I forgive you with all my heart.”

“What can I do to make it better?”

“I am going to pretend it never happened. You need not believe that you must make restitution. You already have.” He motioned to the circle of folding chairs. “I want to help you. Would you consider coming to our therapy sessions every week?”

“Jah. I already promised Miriam.”

Seth regarded Miriam with those stunning gray eyes of his. “Then Miriam’s wishes are most important. Cum, join us.”

Seth nudged Miriam’s elbow and led her to an empty seat.

“Denki for your forgiveness. It means so much to Yost.”

Seth grinned. “What do you mean? I don’t remember the event you are talking about.”

Miriam shook her head and smiled to herself.

Seth sat next to her. “Don’t be nervous. You don’t have to say anything. This is for Yost.”

Miriam laid her box behind her chair.

“What is in the box?” Seth said.

“Something for you.”

“Me? What is it?”

“Something, hopefully, to make your life easier. Someone should watch out for you now and then.”

A slow smile spread across Seth’s face. “You want the job?”

Miriam wasn’t sure why the heat traveled up her neck, but before she could reply, Doug stood up. “I’d like to welcome you here tonight. Jonas Shetler and Miriam and Yost Bontrager are joining us for the first time.” He pointed to the three Amish women. “This is Anna Coblentz, Elizabeth Burkholder, and Deborah Miller.”

Elizabeth was in Miriam’s district, but she didn’t recognize the other two women. They must have come from the district to the north.

Doug motioned to the Englisch woman sitting next to him. “This is my wife, Carrie. She comes with me so everything is proper in the eyes of the community and the bishop.” Doug shifted his gaze to Miriam, Yost, and Jonas. “We have a few rules. Everyone here is encouraged to speak freely. That means you may hear some things you don’t like about your neighbors or your church. But we do not judge other people’s feelings. Try as we might to control our own feelings sometimes they can’t be helped. Secondly, what we say is not to be repeated. Everyone must feel safe to express themselves. Don’t attack another person or try to give them advice. Just listen. Does this make sense?”

Miriam didn’t plan on saying a word. For those who knew about them, there was some opposition in the community to Seth’s group sessions. Seth had told her the bishop gave reluctant approval, mostly because he thought it could do no harm. And if the sessions helped people like Mary Shetler, there must be some good to them.

“I first want to tell you that I have seen Mary Shetler several times since she has been in the hospital.”

Anna Coblenz wrung a white hanky in her hand. Jonas sank his head lower and didn’t so much as glance at anybody.

“Mary feels terrible guilt. She needs to know that we love her and that she still has favor in the eyes of God.”

Anna’s voice didn’t carry much farther than her lips, and Miriam almost missed her question. “But how can that be? How can any of us be right with God if we have such thoughts? ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ Everyone says that Seth’s mamm is gone to hell.”

Miriam knew Anna had no intention of being cruel, but Seth’s face turned pale all the same. She flashed him a look of concern, and he gave her a reassuring half smile. No doubt his mother’s situation had been discussed many times in group therapy.

Doug sat down. “If your friend got cancer, Anna, would you say it was her fault if she died?”

“Nae,” came the whispered reply.

“We have talked about this before,” Doug said. “Depression is an illness as real as cancer. If it is ignored or untreated, it can make a person feel hopeless and dark, as if there is no way out of a horrible nightmare. They might think the only relief from the incredible pain is to take their own life.”

A single tear made its way down Anna’s cheek. “Don’t let that happen to me.”

Doug put his elbows on his knees and leaned closer to Anna. “Are you taking the medication?”

“Jah.”

“And Aden accepts it?”

“He thinks it is foolishness, but he is willing to pay for it.”

“You are doing so many things to help yourself get better, Anna. Group therapy is not optimal, but it is a very good thing you come. And remember, ‘God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”

Once Doug finished his update on Mary’s condition, he invited others to share what they would. Deborah talked of her mother with Alzheimer’s, who was increasingly abusive. Elizabeth was constantly anxious for her children—afraid that something bad would happen to them if she were not with them.

In the stable amid the hay dust and the pungent smell of horses seemed a fitting setting for such a meeting. The Plain Folk would have felt out of place in a sterile clinic with blinding fluorescent lights and metallic industrial tables. They might not have been willing to come.

Jonas ventured a comment at the end of the session. “I want to know what to do for my mamm.”

Doug leaned his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. “You may not understand how your mother feels, but don’t dismiss her feelings as foolishness. Let her talk to you, and don’t judge her. Remember, feelings are powerful things. How much do you help her with chores around the house?”

Jonas shifted in his seat. “Not much.”

“When you let her do all the work in the home, you send her the message that whatever you do is more important than her work and her health. Wash the dishes and do the laundry. Not only will you ease her burden, but you will put yourself in her place and appreciate her work more.”

Jonas pursed his lips and fell deep into his own thoughts.

Yost didn’t say a word the entire session, but his willingness to attend was encouraging.

Anna, Elizabeth, and Deborah left quickly once the session ended. Jonas followed close behind. He and Yost didn’t even look at each other as he left. Their friendship persisted as a reminder of the terrible thing they had done to Seth. And who would want to be reminded of that?

While Doug and Seth sat conversing quietly with each other, Miriam retrieved her box and took it to Seth.

He gave her a cautious grin as he examined the box. “Aha. Something to make my life easier. Is it a new arm?”

Miriam shook her head quickly and folded her arms so Seth wouldn’t see how her hands were shaking.

Oh, how she wanted him to like it!

He untied the twine and lifted the lid. Miriam had folded the quilt so the Log Cabin patch would face up when Seth opened the box.

His lips parted and his eyes grew wide. He smoothed his hands over the fabric. “I used to have a blanket….”

He stood and lifted the quilt from the box. Doug and Carrie each took a corner and held it up so Seth could see the entire thing.

“Wow,” Doug said. “That is really something.”

Carrie rubbed her thumb along the binding. “Did you make this? It is fabulous. Absolutely fabulous.”

Miriam watched Seth’s face. His eyes darted across the quilt.

A heavy weight pressed on her chest as if someone had tightened a clamp around it. She’d made a horrible mistake. Of course the quilt would stir up painful memories. Better that she should have let them be. Looking at Seth’s expression, Miriam wanted to snatch the quilt away and pretend she had never given it to him. Terrible, terrible idea.

Seth took a corner of the quilt and put it up to his nose. Then he closed his eyes and buried his face in the fabric. His shoulders rose and fell with every breath he took.

Gathering the quilt in his arms, he sat down and held it close to his chest. “I thought I’d lost it,” he whispered. He looked at Miriam, his eyes shining with deep emotion. “I thought I’d lost it forever.”

“I’m sorry, Seth,” Miriam said, almost too heavy to speak. “I hoped it would make you happy. I wouldn’t ever—”

Seth reached out and grabbed Miriam’s hand. “Miriam,” he whispered hoarsely. Keeping his eyes on her face, he squeezed her fingers. “It is the most wonderful thing I have ever seen.”

“You like it?”

“There are…” He breathed deeply. “There are no words,” he said. “How did you know? Mamm made a dress and my blanket out of the same blue material.” He ran his fingers along the Bear Claw block. “She died in that dress.”

Miriam caught her breath. Laura hadn’t told her. Maybe Seth was the only one who remembered.

A sob parted his lips as he clutched the quilt and disintegrated in a torrent of tears. “I knew it was a bad day for her. I never should have gone to work. She died alone while Priscilla screamed in her crib.” The sobs came from deep in his throat. “I should have been there. I could have saved her life. Dat didn’t understand. No one understood but me. I should have been there.” He wept until Miriam thought her own heart would break.

She pictured Seth as a little boy in the comfort of his mamm’s embrace, wrapped up in the quilt she’d made especially for him. She saw the devoted son watching his mamm descend into the darkness of her own mind and feeling powerless to do anything about it. She saw a confused and desolate young man as they laid his mother in a grave.

Miriam knelt next to Seth and put a hand on his arm. “Hush, hush,” she said, as if comforting a small child. “She loved you with every part of her soul. You were seventeen years old, Seth. She was sick. You didn’t fail her. Don’t ever believe in a million years that you failed her.”

Seth let out a deep, gut-wrenching sigh and buried his face in his hands.

They sat quietly as Seth cried himself out and then tried to regain his composure. He repeatedly swiped the back of his hand over his eyes until Carrie found a tissue in her purse so he could mop his face. “Denki, Miriam. You have given hours to this for me. I have something to remember my mamm by again.”

“You do not think it is too fancy?”

“Proud people have fancy things. This is not a fancy thing. This is a beautiful piece of your heart, made to give me comfort.”

His warmth seemed to permeate the very air. Miriam put a hand to her cheek and felt the glow of heat. When he looked at her like that, she felt shy and energetic and excited all at the same time. She couldn’t have felt more cozy sitting by her cookstove and drinking hot cocoa on a cold winter’s evening.

“I will never forget your kindness,” Seth said.

“And I will never forget yours.” She pulled Yost close to her. “For both of us.”

“We had better get on home,” Yost said.

Doug took his wife’s hand. “Me too.”

Miriam felt disappointment descend like fog. She didn’t want to leave, not when Seth smiled at her like that and her heart was like to burst with happiness. How long had it been since she felt so much like herself, so right with the world around her?

Seth folded the quilt over his good arm and stood. “Seems almost too special to use.”

“You will need something to keep you warm in the winter,” Miriam said. “It is more special if you use it. What value does something have if it sits on a shelf?”

“Then I will use it every day.” Seth wiped a leftover tear from his eye. “To remind me of precious relationships and abundant blessings.”

He winked at Miriam and set her heart fluttering.

* * * * *

“Oh Seth, smell the lilacs. Cut me some blooms, and we will fill the house with their sweet smell.”

While a million memories flooded his mind, Seth watched as Miriam put her arm around Yost and left the stable.

He closed his eyes and saw his mother’s hands kneading bread dough in the morning before breakfast. She had worker’s hands with long, thin fingers and veins that stood out in relief. He loved to trace those veins with his fingertips and make a map of them from her wrists to her knuckles.

He heard his mother’s voice, reading him stories about bear hunting and horses. And Bible stories. He could have listened to her tell the story of Noah every day. No matter how many times she told it, tears pooled in her eyes when she lamented how many people died in the flood.
“If only they had listened, Seth. If only they had heard God speaking to them.”