Pennsylvania Patchwork (4 page)

CHAPTER SIX

Esther breathed in a lungful of contentment. With Nathaniel next door tackling his afternoon chores and Mamm resting under a patchwork quilt on the sitting room couch, she settled into an armchair. After Mamm fell asleep, she would
redd
up the kitchen without worrying about her mother trying to help and putting items away in the oddest places. It seemed Mamm had forgotten that all clean cutlery was compartmentalized, the forks collected together, facing up, not dispersed amongst the knives and spoons.

Mamm's lids drooped closed. Esther reached down for her knitting bag and brought out the skein of nubbly indigo blue wool yarn Holly had delivered to her, selected by her friend Dori. Esther's eager fingers wound strands into a ball; it was a lovely feeling to be beginning a new knitting project.

One of Mamm's eyes cracked open a sliver, then both widened. “What are you up to, Essie?”

“I'm making a sweater.” Esther had performed this task so many times, her hands moved as if they had minds of their own.

“For yourself?”

“No, for a man.” Esther felt her cheeks blush.

“Ya don't mean an Amishman, do ya?”

“Well, yes, I was hoping—”

“That he'll turn Englisch? Did you ever see your dat wearing a knit sweater?”

“No, I guess not.” Her fingers slowed their tempo.

“You're the one who needs to do the changing, daughter of mine. If you wish to join the church.”

Esther's mind spun back to her childhood. Decades had passed with so many changes. Why, children pushed themselves on two-wheeled rubber-tired scooters and wore Rollerblades these days, and farmers drove tractors in the barnyards, even though not in the fields. “Men can't wear sweaters?” Esther said.

“Not in this district, that I know of. Maybe, if it were black yarn. Better ask the bishop if you want to know for sure. I suppose you could knit a lap quilt or shawl for yourself.” Mamm fluffed a pillow to support her back. “Knitting seems such a private endeavor, not like quilting, where everyone tells stories and laughs. Ya know what I mean? Only one person can knit at a time.”

“Not really. My friend Dori holds a knitting class and the women chat up a storm.” And after a busy day at work in the Amish Shoppe, Esther had always relished the quiet solitude as she knitted.

Paralyzed by Mamm's disparaging stare, Esther's hands came to rest on her lap. She'd envisioned herself and Nathaniel sitting in front of the hearth on winter nights after they were wed. In the picture, he was wearing a blue cable-knit sweater, but she imagined Mamm could be right. Esther needed to explore and learn the rules of the Ordnung, the unwritten code of conduct for her district, to become baptized.

“When will you start dressing plain?” Mamm said. “Don't think the People and the bishop, preachers, and deacon aren't keeping an eye on you.”

“Soon.” Esther knew her mother was correct. “I was planning on sewing myself a dress. Maybe on the way home from the doctor's the day after tomorrow I can buy the fabric.”

“How about Holly?” Mamm asked. “Can she sew?”

Feeling deflated, Esther dropped the half-balled skein back into her knitting bag. She'd like to be fashioning pink or blue infant clothes, or a baby blanket, but knew she needed to accept the fact she might never have grandchildren.

“That's another matter I've neglected. She can't even hem a skirt.” Esther had failed her daughter in a multitude of areas.

“She can certainly learn.” Mamm pointed to a hamper of clothing. “The darning's been stacking up now that your brother's Greta is gone. You can start Holly on mending some of those garments. My fingers hurt too much.”

“I'm sorry, Mamm. So very sorry.” If only Esther had returned years ago, but no use crying over spilled milk, as she'd said to Holly many times—words her own parents had taught her as a child.

“Never mind, I've grown used to the discomfort, but my fingers and arms are too stiff to be of much use.” Mamm massaged her shoulder. “Now that you and Holly are here, 'tis easier to ignore.”

Esther glanced out the window and saw a red coupe whisk by, then veer into Beth's driveway without slowing down. “Looks like Beth is having company. I wonder who it is.” A surge of animosity clenched Esther's stomach, but she admonished herself. Bearing malice against one's neighbor was a sin. She'd better face the fact she and Beth would be neighbors, if nothing more. And without a car, Esther might depend on Beth in a moment of crisis, as a last resort.

“We need to get Holly back into a proper dress and apron,” Mamm said, her voice growing in animation. “Remember how pleased she was dressing Amish? I can tell Holly loves the Amish life.”

“I can't disagree. Holly got the biggest kick wearing Nathaniel's daughter's old dress and apron, straight pins and all.”

Mamm cocked her head, as if listening for Holly's voice. “I wonder where your
Dochder
is. I'll bet ya anything, she's with Armin.” Mamm grinned, the creases in her cheeks deepening. “I saw a twinkle in Armin's eyes when he spoke to Holly. Something's going on there. He's a fine young man, he really is, once he straightens his ways and joins the church.”

“The chance of those two getting together is slim to none. Although Holly dressed plain for a couple days, I doubt she'd give up her modern conveniences.”

“With God, anything's possible. I heard tell of a woman down in Paradise … or was it Bart?” Mamm glanced up to the ceiling for a moment, then her shoulders lifted. “Anyway, don't you see the beauty of it? The Lord brought Holly and Armin together so they can both be saved and start a family. I'm sure of it. Your daughter paired up with your future husband's little brother? 'Tis more than a coincidence.”

“My daughter isn't as fickle as that.” Esther sat with her knees together, her big toes touching. “If she says she's marrying Zach, then I believe her.”

“Maybe not, after what the grapevine's been saying about him.”

“She'll come unglued if it's true.” Esther wondered if Mamm had her facts straight or if she'd dreamed up the whole tale. “How did you first hear of it?” Esther asked.

“A couple days ago. Lizzie stopped by with a gift from her mother.” Mamm straightened her cap. “Strawberry preserves and apple butter.”

Esther recalled the tasty preserves, but had assumed her sister-in-law had made them. “When was this? I didn't see her.”

“You were in the chicken coop.”

“Well, at this point all this talk about Zach is hearsay.”

“You never can tell what the Lord Almighty has up his sleeve. Some day Armin may own part of Nathaniel's farm. Maybe that's why Nathaniel bought this place. For Armin.”

Esther allowed herself to imagine Holly mistress of this acreage, the barn, the outbuildings, the plentiful fields—she recalled her brother Isaac had said he owned eighty acres.

“Don't forget, once you marry Nathaniel, he could be nominated for your brother Isaac's vacant position as minister. Nathaniel is well respected, that's for sure.”

“Ach, I hope not. An unpaid, full-time job on top of running his farm? I'd never see him.”

“Every Amishman must promise to be available to be chosen by lot when he's baptized.”

“Yah, and I've seen a few men cry, even when selected to be bishop.”

“By God, remember. 'Tis his choosing.”

“I assume the man's family and children must be in good standing with the church. Holly isn't Amish nor is Nathaniel's brother baptized.”

“Not yet.” Mamm let out a yawn, then her head slumped to the side and her breathing slowed. Her mamm had complained her sleep was paper-thin. Esther knew she missed her sons and grandchildren. Mamm probably prayed into the night for their well-being and safety setting up and equipping their farms in Montana. And the hullaballoo of having Holly here, wanting to use this very house for her non-Amish wedding reception, would be enough to keep anyone from sleeping soundly. Esther hadn't slept well last night herself.

With Mamm snoozing, Esther moseyed into the kitchen. She'd get twice the cleaning accomplished in half the time by herself. Soon Holly would return to help her. Esther wondered if that girl of hers was trouncing around with Armin. The old saying about switching horses midstream wrangled in Esther's mind. She recalled how Holly's old beau—they'd dated for years—had unceremoniously dropped her and married someone Holly called a
bimbo
.

As Esther pushed the chairs against the table she noticed the box Dori had sent her. “Why on earth?”

Esther recollected putting the shoe box full of Mamm's letters pleading with Esther to return home on the top shelf in the back of her closet in Seattle. Holly might have taken them out, dug through the envelopes again, and asked Dori to send them. Esther wondered what Mamm would think if she saw them. Maybe it would warm her heart to know Esther hadn't thrown them away. But now was not the time.

Yet, she found her fingers removing the scotch tape and lifting one edge enough to reveal a box covered with brown paper inside, not the Keds shoe box she'd expected to find. A note from Dori was affixed to the top of the box saying:
Esther, when this arrived I started opening it, then realized it must be personal. Sorry!

The box inside was addressed to Mrs. Samuel Fisher—her name used only in correspondence with the army years ago. After Samuel died, Esther had given up being Mrs. anything and went by her first name.

Esther lifted the carton's other flap and saw the return address on the label: Chap McLaughlin from Clearwater, Florida. She didn't recognize the name or location. Most likely a disgruntled customer, a complete stranger. No, not a client. Who would call her by her former husband's name? Few of her customers knew she'd ever been married.

Esther shook the box—about the weight of the letters—and felt a solid mass sliding inside.

A shroud of dread and uncertainty descended upon her. Her hands shook. For no reason, she assured herself. But the kitchen table was the worst place to open the package, what with Mamm, Holly, and possibly Armin scrutinizing her at any moment. She should disclose its contents with Nathaniel present. She would, of course, when they were alone together.

Esther cradled the carton, left the kitchen, and stealthed past her mother toward the stairs to her bedroom.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

I saw Lizzie glance out the window of Nathaniel's kitchen and spot me staring up at them. Oops, she'd caught me eavesdropping. “Look, that Englisch girl is spying on us,” I heard her say through the cracked window.

“Don't try to change the subject.” Nathaniel's voice blasted out gruffly; I'd never seen him angry before. “You were the storyteller at the quilting frolic, weren't you?” he said. “Ya know what the Bible says about a wagging tongue? Proverbs 20:19: ‘He that goeth about as a talebearer revealeth secrets: therefore meddle not with him that flattereth with his lips.' In other words, Lizzie, you betrayed my confidence. I'm to avoid those who talk too much.”

“I was repeating what I heard, not making up lies.” She lapsed into rapid-fire Pennsylvania Dutch, no doubt so I couldn't understand. Lizzie strutted over to the window and shut it.

With Rascal at my side, I turned on my heels and headed back to the shed just as Armin led the horse and cart toward me.

“I think I'd better go home.” I gave Rascal a fluff.

“Wait a minute and I'll take you.” Using swift movements, Armin's muscled arms tossed several bundles of roofing material onto the cart.

As I lingered beside the shed, I brought out my cell phone to make sure it was really on. I was going to have to get to a source of electricity. Maybe Armin knew someone.

Armin closed the shed. “There, that didn't take long. We can drive back on the road.” He put out his hand to help me board the cart. His large hand was rough and calloused and warm. It seemed he held on to mine too long.

I settled onto the bench. In the back of my mind, questions churned about Zach, but the air was alive with delicious layers of farmland smells and the songs of birds chirping elaborate melodies. For several minutes, my spirits soared. Who knew, we might find Zach in Mommy Anna's kitchen enjoying a cookie and waiting for me. Or would I, as a veterinarian's wife, always be waiting for Zach? His patients would come first. I couldn't fault him for his dedication—I admired his work ethic. Still, he should have called.

Armin steered the cart along the road to Mommy Anna's lane. I craned my neck. No pickup, meaning no Zach. Then I stood, my hand on Armin's shoulder for support, and spied the pickup at Beth's house and what appeared to be the roof of a red car. I told myself it didn't bother me, but felt anger brewing in my chest. I recalled the stunning blonde I'd met on the plane a few weeks ago, and the business card she'd so seductively handed Zach in the airport baggage claim. Hold everything! I should be more concerned with an old girlfriend reappearing to claim him.

Once in the barnyard, I sat on the cart's bench as Armin unloaded the bundled shingles. “Need help getting down?” he asked me.

“No thanks.” I shut off my phone. Zach knew where to find me. I jumped and landed on both feet: one small victory.

“How well do you know Zach Fleming?” I asked.

Armin tied the horse to a post. “I've known him my whole life, although we attended different schools and we were never friends. And then he left for college. He treats Nathaniel's cows suffering from mastitis.”

I nodded my head, when in truth I had no idea what he was talking about. Some sort of bovine illness.

“I could drop you over at his mother's if you like.”

“No, thank you.” Beth had clearly not wanted me there. I wished my feelings weren't so easily bruised by what seemed like a brush-off. I felt like the only girl in my third-grade class not invited to a birthday party.

“We could drive by,” he said. “People drop in on each other around here.” He chuckled. “It's written all over your face you want to see him. Maybe his mother would be second best.”

“What I need is someone with electricity so I can charge my phone and laptop. Is there anyone other than Beth on the road who has it?”

“Something wrong with Beth?”

I tried to sound nonchalant. “No, but I'd rather find someone else.”

“Sure, okay. Let me work on the roof for a couple hours and I'll take you there.”

“Thanks, that would be great.” By then Zach would have shown up. And I had a hankering to know what FedEx had delivered to Mom.