Anna's Healing (21 page)

A teddy bear flannel print, cut into large half squares, placed in a
V
shape, alternated with bright green fabric and was trimmed in yellow rickrack.

A nine patch made from bright calico prints.

A cat print, alternated with polka dots and used in an hourglass pattern.

“What is this one?” She'd stopped in front of a quilt that reminded her of a large garden. The colors were haphazardly placed, and the effect was delicious.

“That's a string quilt. It's how I use all of my leftover pieces. They're very easy to make.”

Some of the quilts were hung from a long wooden strip fastened across the top of one wall. Others had been folded and stacked on top of a cabinet. More were draped over two chairs. They filled the room with their color and energy.

Anna rolled to the wall that held a covered board from floor to ceiling.

“This is my design wall.”

Anna reached out and touched the cloth that covered the design wall. “This fabric—”

“It's felt, which allows me to place smaller pieces on there without pins in the early stages of a quilt. Once I've begun sewing the blocks, I usually do pin them. This way I can see the quilt and decide if I like the color placement before I actually start sewing.”

Anna nodded and rolled her chair in front of a white board that held a chart of sorts. On the left-hand side was a list of names, to the right were the words—“requested,” “designed,” “pieced,” “quilted,” and “mailed.”

“Mom likes to have several projects going at once.” Chloe seemed more relaxed now that they were in the quilt room. In fact, it was obvious that she was proud of her mother. “The board helps to keep her organized.”

“Yes, charting my projects was Chloe's stroke of genius. I was always forgetting that I had started something until I came across it in another pile.”

Taped to the top of the white board was a picture of a child, fingers in one mouth and clutching a blanket with his other hand. The words “Project Linus” were written across the top of the board next to the picture.

“They're all for children.” Anna scanned the names again—Ben, Candace, Stefanie, Mandi, Baby Joe. She turned her chair in a circle so that she was facing Teri. “Your board is full of children's names, and the quilts. They're all done in patterns and colors that will please young ones.”

“Yes. That's what Project Linus does. We provide blankets or quilts to seriously ill or traumatized children.”

“We?”

“I'm a blanketeer—officially. Project Linus actually began in 1998, well before I became involved. Today there are chapters in all fifty states. I can give you some brochures on it if you're interested.”

Anna nodded but didn't say anything else. Instead, she turned to look at the quilts again. Then her gaze drifted toward the list of names.

Since her accident she had forgotten that other people were hurting. Her focus had been completely on herself—her problems, her pains, and the unfairness of her life. She'd struggled and cried and confessed and prayed, but always the focus had been on her. For the first time in many months, her mind and heart were flooded with sympathy for others.

“Mom runs the Tulsa County chapter—”

“I have plenty of help. I don't make all of the blankets myself.”

“Helpers come here?” Anna glanced around the room. It was large, but she didn't think it would hold a lot of quilters.

“No. Mostly we communicate via phone, email, and texts. But I stop in and visit the area groups when I'm in Tulsa or Oklahoma City.”

“Mom stays very busy.”

“It's difficult to fill all the requests we receive, but we come closer to that goal every year.”

“You're a very
gut
quilter.”

“Thank you. The patterns aren't intricate. After all, a child doesn't care how expert we are at cutting triangles or quilting elaborate designs. They merely want something that will make them smile on a gloomy day.” She stopped and allowed her gaze to drift around the room. “Working with the Project Linus is something I enjoy doing. The focus isn't on the quality of the quilt, but rather on the love and prayers that go into each one.”

Anna nodded again as if it all made sense, but she had a lot of questions. Of course, her community made quilts for benefit auctions. There had been quite a few sold at the auction to help with her medical bills. But this was different. This was strangers helping one another on a regular basis.

“You girls must be starved. Anna, would you like to wash up before we eat?”

“
Ya
. That would be good.” She was surprised to see that the bathroom was outfitted for a handicapped person with support bars next to the toilet, a step-in shower with a seat, and a low sink that she could roll up to and wash at. Chloe had told her once that her father was wheelchair bound for several years. This house must have been adapted to accommodate his handicap.

She washed up quickly, comforted by the fact that if she did need to use the toilet it wouldn't be too cumbersome to do so.

The meal was filling and delicious. Anna forgot to wonder about calories and happily devoured cheese, crackers, and a second helping of salad.

They talked about Chloe's latest assignments and Teri's recent scare over an irregular mammogram.

“They decided it was nothing but a calcium deposit.”

“I'm sure you were relieved.”

“I was, but it gave me a lot of empathy for women going through breast cancer—for men and women going through any types of cancer. Gus's illness was… well, it was different.”

Chloe stood to remove dishes as her mother spoke. It was clear she wasn't comfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

“The important thing was that we had time together,” Teri continued. “We didn't worry about the end until the last few months. Gus was able to spend the days he had left with our family, those we loved, and with me.”

By the time Chloe returned from the kitchen, their conversation had circled back around to Project Linus.

“It's very interesting,” Anna admitted. “I like the idea of making something for hurting children, of being able to help someone else.”

Chloe beamed as Teri leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. “I'd love to have your help, Anna. Do you think you'd like to make a quilt for us?”

“Oh. I don't know. That is, I'd love to…” Anna stared down at the table. “It's only that I'm not making any money, and I hate to ask for anything else from my
aenti
and
onkel
.”

Glancing back up, she continued, “I wouldn't be able to buy the supplies, though the Lord knows I have plenty of time on my hands.”

Teri stood and pushed in her chair. “Supplies? That's not a problem.”

CHAPTER 31

J
acob noticed a dramatic change in Anna over the next few days as she began to make quilts for children. She was engaged and excited for the first time since the accident. Gone were the times when she stared off into space, her hands motionless in her lap and her face blank of expression. It was as if she'd rejoined them, as if she'd picked up the pieces of her life and was eager to start living again.

Mornings were still occasionally difficult. Twice he'd heard
Mammi
mention the nightmares that were plaguing her, but he hadn't had a chance to discuss them with Anna. They had very little time together—nowhere near what he would have liked.

He vowed he would speak with her alone after Sunday's worship service.

He'd glanced at her occasionally throughout the singing and during the sermons. Once he looked across the room to see her wiping tears from her cheeks. Another time she had been staring down at the open Bible in her lap. He considered all of this an improvement. At previous services she'd stared straight ahead and said little, never participating in the singing. Today, he thought he could pick her voice out from the others—not especially loud, but with a certain ring to it. He might have been imagining that—how could he possibly tell one voice from another? Still, in matters of Anna, it seemed he could.

Now she sat at the end of one of the luncheon tables. There was a
plate of food in front of her, but her attention was momentarily occupied by a small passel of young children

Jacob stopped a few feet behind her chair and listened.

“Why don't your legs work?” One of the boys asked.

“Your mind sends a message down your back.” She touched her head and a point on her back just below her neck. “Since I was thrown to the ground, the messages don't carry so well.”

One little girl's eyes widened, and she exclaimed, “I never want that to happen to me!”

The girl's blunt statement didn't seem to upset Anna. Instead, she nodded slightly and said, “I would never want it to happen to you, either.”

“How fast can you make that chair go?” Another boy asked.

Anna didn't answer immediately, so Jacob used the moment to interrupt.

“I think that's enough questions for now. If Anna doesn't eat, she won't have the energy to roll her chair anywhere.”

Somber faces nodded in understanding. One of them was called away by his mother. The rest soon followed.

“Mind if I join you?”

Anna waved to the area the children had vacated. “Sure. Have a seat.”

“You handled that well.”

“The
kinner
are only curious. They mean no harm by their questions.”

“Indeed.”

Anna bit into a piece of fried chicken, studying him thoughtfully while she chewed.

“What? Am I wearing my food?” He swiped at his chin with a napkin.

“
Nein
. You haven't started eating yet. How could you be?”

“What is it then? You're looking at me strangely.”

“Am I?”

“You are and you know it.” Jacob sunk his fork into a mound of potato salad and popped it into his mouth.

Anna took a sip of water before leaning forward. “I was wondering why you're sitting with me. I suspect it's because you don't want to see the girl in the wheelchair sitting all alone.”

“But you weren't alone when I sat down.”

Instead of refuting his point, she said, “Isn't there someone else you'd rather sit with? I've noticed several girls giving you long looks.”

Anna tilted her head toward a trio of girls standing near the dessert table. When Jacob looked their way, each girl blushed and began to giggle.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Not at all.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might prefer sitting with you?”

“Oh, it occurred to me, but I decided there was probably another explanation.”

He picked up his knife and cut through the large slice of ham on his plate. Spearing a piece of it on his fork, he pointed it at Anna and said, “The only explanation is that I enjoy your company—”

“Which you have nearly every day.”

“And I hardly ever have a moment alone with you.”

She only cocked an eyebrow and continued chewing on the chicken. He was glad to see she wasn't picking at her food. He'd heard her mention her weight to Erin on several occasions. In Jacob's opinion that was a silly concern. Her body needed calories, healthy food, and vitamins. If she'd gained a little weight since the accident, maybe that was a good thing too. She should trust her body.

While they finished their food they discussed inconsequential things—the storm of the week before, new neighbors who had moved in down the street, and a recent letter from her mother.

When their plates were empty, Jacob asked, “Dessert?”

“Not yet. I'm too full from the extra roll you gave me off your plate.”

“I gave it to you because you love bread.”

“I do.” Anna's hands slipped to cover her stomach. “But now I wish I hadn't eaten it.”

“Ridiculous. A little exercise and you'll be ready for pie.”

“What did you have in mind? Should I join the game of baseball?”

“You probably could wheel around the bases faster than Jonas King can run them. That boy is slower than my
dat
's old mule.” Jacob stood and cleaned off their end of the table, taking their plates to the tub set up for dishes and dumping the water left in their cups onto a flowering bush. He paused for a moment to speak with Erin, stopped by the vegetable table to put a few raw carrots in his pocket, and then he made his way back to where Anna was waiting.

The service had been held at the Millers'. It was close enough that Jacob had walked. He'd passed the barn on the way in, and now he had an idea. He moved behind Anna's wheelchair and asked her to release the brake.