Pennsylvania Patchwork (21 page)

CHAPTER FORTY

While Esther and Mamm walked toward the front of Zook's, past a plethora of patterned fabrics Esther was pining to explore, Holly stepped outside with her phone to call Dr. Brewster's office. Esther was astounded Holly had cajoled Mamm into committing to surgery, but she knew Mamm could change her mind. Her decisions wavered like wet noodles these days.

“May I help you?” an Amish saleswoman said to Esther. Save one Englisch shopper, Esther and Mamm were the only customers in the store.

“Yes, I want to sew two Amish dresses and aprons,” Esther said. “One for myself and one for my daughter, who's outside.”

The saleswoman's brows raised. “For both of yous?” She'd no doubt seen Holly carrying a cell phone and dressed in jeans. Well, both Holly and Esther were dressed Englisch.

Esther's fingertips explored a bolt of cotton fabric, a vibrant cranberry she envisioned as part of a quilt. She turned to the twenty-something Amish saleswoman, her eyes round.

“I'm joining the Amish church,” Esther said, “and it's about time I dressed properly. Now, my daughter—she's another subject. But we both need a dress and an apron.”

The woman stared back in silent surprise.

“Mamm, does your treadle sewing machine still work?” Esther asked.

“As well as ever.” Mamm shuffled over to them. “I almost gave it to Greta to take with her to Montana. Now I'm glad I didn't.”

“If we can afford to, we should send her one as a Christmas gift.” Esther had preferred her brother Isaac's wife over her other four sisters-in-law.

“That's a gut idea, Essie.”

Esther admired the saleswoman's dress. “I like the color you're wearing.”

“We call this plum.” The woman moved toward an assortment of solid-colored fabric and selected a bolt.

Esther noticed it was 100 percent polyester—easy to wash and line-dry, and no ironing required. “Would you please sell me the correct amount of yardage? I'm a little rusty.”

“Yah, glad to.” The saleswoman carried it to the counter where another saleswoman stood cutting fabric for the Englisch woman, a brunette with short hair.

Holly wandered inside, stuffing her phone in her hip pocket.

“Come take a look at these fabrics,” Esther said. “I'm going to sew a dress and apron for both of us, if you're serious about wearing them.”

“If Mommy Anna holds up her end of the bargain.” Her eyes met Mamm's, and she nodded.

In the past, Holly had borrowed one of Nathaniel's daughter's dresses and aprons; Esther was grateful Holly didn't suggest she use them again. Just thinking about Nathaniel made Esther's throat close up as if she'd bitten into a lemon wedge.

“What color do you want?” Esther asked her, trying to keep an uplifted expression on her face. She noticed Holly eyeing the expansive selection of black fabric displayed against a partition wall. “Look over here,” Esther said, drawing her daughter's attention to the many colors suitable for an Amish dress. “You said you like blue and it suits you.”

“How about this cobalt blue?” the saleswoman said, her hand on a bolt of fabric sandwiched between a whale-gray and a pale blue. The saleswoman unraveled it for Holly to see.

“I love it.” Holly stroked its smooth texture. “This isn't for an Amish wedding gown, is it?”

“It could be worn at a wedding,” the saleswoman said.

“No, it's for a work dress,” Esther said. “What you can wear when you help me milk Pearly.”

“But the fabric's so soft and pretty, I'd hate to get it dirty.”

“Then I'll sew two dresses, if you like. Another one to wear while this is being laundered. It's about time I taught you how to do the washing without electricity.”

“Okay, how about the cobalt and that one across the aisle with the sunflowers?” Holly demonstrated more enthusiasm than Esther had expected.

Esther scanned the rows and rows of ornate and unique fabrics. No store in Seattle could compare to Zook's. It took all her willpower not to stroll up and down the aisles. “Sorry, Holly, we'll need to stick to solid colors. Nothing with a pattern or that's extremely bright.”

“All right, then, what about this chestnut-brown?” Holly gathered up a bolt of material. Esther wondered if Holly would adhere to her agreement. No matter, Esther would go along with Holly's scheme. Esther had always enjoyed sewing.

“Yah, that's pretty, almost the color of your hair.”

“But Mom, are you sure you want to go to all this inconvenience? I'm only going to wear it for a week.”

“I can sew quickly.”

“I remember.” As a girl, Holly had hated wearing Esther's handmade dresses; Esther hadn't blamed her for wishing to be like all the other girls.

“I might sew another for myself in this asparagus green.” Esther pointed out the fabric to Mamm. “Do you think it would be prideful to have my dress highlight my eyes?”

Mamm gazed into Esther's face. “Nee, as long as in your heart you're not showing off.”

“I would be, if honest with myself. Maybe I'll get the eggplant-purple instead.” Growing up, Esther's parents had insisted she and her brothers obey stringent rules; God expected humility and obedience. Showing off was strictly
verboten
, but it seemed Mamm had mellowed.

Fifteen minutes later, Mamm yawned and stood near the cash register, a sign Esther needed to cut the trip short. They had yet to select their quilting supplies, but she quickly paid for their purchases. They left by the front door and rounded the building to the parking lot. Cheryl, their driver, helped them schlep their bags of fabric to the van.

“Now, shall we go for a bite to eat?” Esther asked.

“Nee, I'm too tuckered out,” Mamm said. “I could keel right over.”

With Cheryl's assistance, Mamm climbed into the van and sat next to Holly, who was getting in from the other side.

Esther slid in on Holly's right.

“I forgot thread,” Mamm said as Cheryl shut Mamm's door to bar an attempted exit.

“We'll come back another day,” Esther said. “We'll need quilting fabric, not to mention more yardage for capes.”

“And slippers for Nathaniel,” Mamm said, reaching for the door handle. “I told him we'd buy him a pair.”

Ach, the last item Esther dared purchase. She was relieved Cheryl said, “I don't think Nancy's carries slippers.”

Cheryl started the engine. “All buckled up?” She nosed the van out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

Esther wondered how long Mamm's recuperation from surgery would take. Esther guessed the operation would occur at Lancaster General Hospital, but she dare not speculate aloud.

“I've accumulated many a scrap of fabric over the years,” Mamm said, capturing Esther's attention. “But I don't recall where I stored them. In cardboard boxes I s'pose.”

“While Mom sews, you and I can have a treasure hunt in the house until we find them,” Holly said to Mamm. “It'll be fun.”

“
Des gut
. They've got to be around somewhere.”

“If we can't find them, we'll come back here,” Esther said.

“Is this too far to travel using a buggy?” Holly asked, craning her head to watch a high-stepping horse and carriage.

“Not at all,” Mamm said. “Armin could bring us.”

“Or I could,” Esther said. “Do you think your mare, Topsy, will obey me, Mamm?”

“Yah, she's as cooperative as they come, like she can second-guess you. And she needs to get out more so she doesn't put on weight.”

“I'm glad I never owned a car,” Esther said, “so I won't miss it.”

“Do you think I could drive a horse and buggy by myself?” Holly asked.

“Sure, if you start with a nice slowpoke mare like Topsy,” Esther said.

“But how will I get her bridled and harnessed to the buggy? All those leather straps look so complicated.”

“I think I remember, but Armin would do a better job teaching you.”

“Yah,” Mamm said. “You let Armin give you some tips. He knows horses like nobody else.”

Holly crossed her legs at the ankles. “Then why did Galahad run away?”

“Could have happened to anyone,” Mamm said.

Fatigue encompassed Esther; she let her spine ease into the cushioned seatback. In spite of her determination to stay focused on their conversation, Esther's thoughts careened back to Nathaniel. And his former wife. Esther didn't know the woman's name; it was never mentioned. She knew the Amish in general didn't dwell on the deceased. Still, to not even know her name? Now that Esther considered her and Nathaniel's courtship, she realized she'd only met Nathaniel's two daughters a couple of times, even though his Tina and her husband, with their three children, owned a farm two miles east, and Hannah and her husband dwelled down in Strasburg. Esther had chalked that idiosyncrasy up to the fact that each daughter had a spouse and a household to keep in order. Nathaniel had taken Esther by to meet each daughter, who'd both been standoffish and not invited her in. But Esther reminded herself she was Englisch, and she recalled how Holly had acted the one occasion she'd met a man Esther had casually dated—maybe twice. Holly had not wanted a replacement for her father, and Esther wondered if even now she wished Nathaniel would disappear from the scene.

More troubling thoughts clattered in Esther's head like pellets of hail. She figured Nathaniel had visited his daughters over the past few weeks and not mentioned it to Esther. His daughters must be waiting with bated breath, wondering if their mother were alive. Holly would be frantic in their position.

Esther must have dozed off, because suddenly she heard Holly speaking into her cell phone. “Mom's right here, would you talk to her?”

Holly handed her the phone. “Nathaniel?” Esther's voice came out a squawk.

“Sorry, no, it's Larry.”

She reined in her volume. “Hello, Larry, I apologize. I thought—” They were headed north, driving by Nathaniel's farm, almost home. If she were not confined in the van she could speak more openly. How should Esther phrase her next question?

Larry saved her the embarrassment. “Nothing new to report,” he said.

“May I speak to Nathaniel?” Esther asked.

“No can do,” Larry said. She heard birds chirping in the background; he must be standing outside. “Nathaniel said he doesn't want to talk to anyone. He's pretty broken up. He's sitting in my car with his head in his hands. Say, could you put Holly back on?”

Of course Nathaniel would be on tenterhooks, but why would he not speak to her? “Yes, she's right here.” Esther's hand shook as she passed the phone back to Holly.

“Tell me all.” Holly leaned over to Esther and held the phone between their ears so both could hear Larry's voice. “Possibly a paranoid-schizophrenic, needing to be institutionalized,” he said. “No ID, no friends. Nobody seems to know how long she's lived there. Over five years.”

“Larry, you don't have to spend one more night there.” Holly sat taller. “I'm sure Nathaniel will understand.” Another pause, during which Esther's ears filled with white noise—just as well she couldn't hear Larry anymore. “Well, okay,” Holly said, “I'll talk to you in the morning. And Larry? Thanks a million.”

“I don't even know her name,” Esther muttered to Holly as Cheryl drove around the side of the house. “Nathaniel's wife—I don't know her name.”

“Larry said Nathaniel called her Deborah,” Holly whispered in Esther's ear.

Esther remembered a girl named Deborah from her childhood, but couldn't recall her features, only that she was a few years younger, on the tall side, and shy.

Cheryl came to a halt in the barnyard and helped Mamm emerge from the van as Esther and Holly got out with their bags.

“Let me take those.” Cheryl scaled the stairs and left the bags by the door, then trotted back down.

“How much do we owe you?” Esther brought out her wallet.

“Not a thing. Zach Fleming paid us ahead of time over the phone using a credit card.”

“But surely you'd accept a tip.”

“No, ma'am, he included one.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

“How did Zach know you were driving us?” I asked Cheryl as we stood outside her van in the barnyard.

“My hubby didn't tell me,” she said. “Want me to call him and find out?”

“No, not necessary.” I slipped an arm through the crook of Mommy Anna's elbow. “I'll ask Zach when and if I see him.” Maybe he'd called every driving service until he struck gold.

“We're very grateful,” Mommy Anna said.

“Yes,” my mother echoed.

I was thankful too, but did I want a husband who gave generously from his wallet and not of his time? To me, time was of more value than money.

“Call Mel and me again when you need us,” Cheryl said, and hopped into the van. She backed out onto the lane, turned around, and drove away.

Once up the stairs and in the kitchen, Mommy Anna thudded onto her favorite padded chair at the table. She polished the vinyl cloth with her hand. “I'm starvin'.”

“Me, too, I'm famished.” Mom brought out leftover meatloaf, cheeses, lettuce, chow-chow, and pickles from the refrigerator. I set the table for three, and sliced bread.

“I'm so hungry I almost forgot to thank the dear Lord again,” Mommy Anna said, when we were all seated. “I can't recall such a busy morning.”

We bowed our heads. I imagined our prayers—zinging around like flying saucers, vaulting through outer space, somehow reaching the source of all creation, to thank God for our blessings and that we were congregated together in harmony. Followed by diverse requests, ranging from Nathaniel, Mommy Anna's illness, Rascal's welfare, the mysterious doll, my future …

My Sunday school teacher in Seattle used to say, “Let go and let God.” I prayed the Lord would lead me down his chosen road, not the other way around.

Our silent prayer culminated with “Amen.”

“As soon as we're done eating, I'll clean the kitchen and then start sewing,” Mom said. She constructed a meatloaf sandwich with plenty of mayonnaise and ketchup, and set it on Mommy Anna's plate.

We nibbled at our lunch and skipped dessert.

Mom and I cleared the table and stored the uneaten food in the refrigerator.

“Holly, why don't you take Mamm into the Daadi Haus for a nap while I start the dishes,” Mom said.

“Okay.” I helped my grandmother to her feet, using the full strength of my arms. In the Daadi Haus, she collapsed on her bed, her head landing on her pillow.

“
Denki
,” she said. “We'll have our treasure hunt later.”

“Sure.” I removed her shoes and spread a quilt over my precious grandmother. “Have a nice snooze.” Would she remember our agreement? In any case, I was going to forge ahead and do my part.

When I returned to the kitchen, Mom had wiped and dried the table and spread several yards of our newly purchased cobalt blue fabric across its surface.

“I'm starting your dress first.” She held out a measuring tape and gauged my arm length, waist, and hips—I was used to the routine from my childhood. She jotted down her findings.

“Do you have a pattern?” I asked.

“Yes, passed on for generations. I'll make what we have fit. I may not get the apron done before Mamm wakes up, but you can wear one of hers. And we'll find you a Kapp.”

“My, you sure are in a hurry.”

“I'd best keep my mind occupied so I don't stew over what's beyond my control.” She brought out worn pattern pieces made of stiff brown paper and arranged them on the fabric. “When's Mamm's next doctor's appointment?”

“Thursday morning. I figured she has more energy before noon.”

“Good thinking.”

“The receptionist seemed ecstatic Mommy Anna's coming back.”

The corners of Mom's mouth crescented up like a half moon. “Then I'd say we'd better get your week started, yah?”

“Yes, and I'm looking forward to it. Wait until Armin sees me.”

“Armin's your number one choice?”

“No. Well—I don't know anymore.”

I heard an automobile engine, and tires alongside the house. I bopped over to the window and saw Zach's pickup coming to a halt.

Mom placed the pincushion next to the fabric. “If that's Zach, please ask him in so I can thank him.”

“All right.” I had mixed feelings as I watched him get out of his pickup, like oil and vinegar gurgling in my stomach. But Mom was right about needing to thank him.

Opening the back door, I couldn't ignore Zach's confident posture, his handsome face. “Come on in,” I called and beckoned with my hand.

He mounted the stairs two at a time. “How is Anna?”

“According to Dr. Brewster, she has hyperparathyroidism, if I said that correctly. And she needs surgery.”

He wore a sober expression, how he might look when talking to pet and livestock owners. “Dr. Brewster is highly respected.” He nodded, as if he understood the condition. “But you can ask for a second opinion if you feel unsure.”

“No, the chance of getting my grandma to another doctor is about zero to nothing. And Mommy Anna agreed to the necessary surgery.”

“That's fantastic. You've made great progress.” He stepped closer, but I backed away.

“Well, not without a price.” I led him through the utility room and into the kitchen.

My mother had finished pinning the pattern to the fabric and held a pair of shears. “Zach, thank you so much for paying for the driver and passenger van today.” She set the scissors aside.

“It's the least I could do after promising Holly I'd take you. Any word from Nathaniel?”

“No.” She took hold of the scissors and snipped into the fabric.

“Nothing confirmed yet,” I said. “Mom's concentrating on her new sewing project—an Amish dress for me.”

Zach scanned the material. “Nice color. Did you say it's for you, Holly?”

“Yup.”

“Uh, does this mean you're planning to join the Amish church?”

“I'm fulfilling a wish for my grandmother, as part of a bargain. After a week, I don't know.”

His lips parted a skosh; he looked flummoxed, as Mommy Anna would say.

“You have a problem with it?” I asked.

“No, but you've certainly caught my curiosity.”

“
Dabbish
fingers,” my mother said, and sucked her thumb. She must have poked herself with a needle or scissors. Not like her to be clumsy or careless.

Zach eyes riveted onto mine. “You want to come see Missy's puppies now?” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I have a couple hours of free time.”

I did want to see them, but not Beth or whoever else might swing by.

“Why do you want me to see them so much?” I asked.

“Because I get pick of the litter. Several people are waiting in line, but I may choose first. And I want your opinion.”

“Don't you know ten times more about dogs than I do?” I deliberated on his remarks about Rascal, and felt a wave of uncertainty regarding Zach's judgment. But maybe Zach had assessed Rascal correctly. Armin had mentioned he'd been a stray.

“I think I'd better stay home and keep my mother company.”

“Nee, you go ahead,” Mom said. “I'm happiest when my hands are busy. ‘Idle hands are the devil's workshop,' Mamm told me many a time when I was growing up.” She inspected her thumb. “But you could leave your cell phone, if you wouldn't mind. Or is that a mistake? Here I am sewing an Amish dress and wanting to speak on a phone.”

“In this case, I think even the bishop would give you the green light.”

“I doubt that,” Mom said, but took my phone from me.

I turned to Zach. “Are you positive your mother will let me in her house?”

“Yes, we've already spoken. She says she's sorry she hurt your feelings, and so am I. Sometimes I don't understand her, maybe part of the reason she and my father split up for a few years. Boy, is my dad hopping mad since she told him she'd invited Victoria over.”

“Will Victoria be there?” I recoiled at what I used to consider a beautiful name—one of my favorites. A possibility for my future daughter should I have one.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “Say, do you want me to take your laptop to Mom's or to the office to get it charged? I should have thought of doing that weeks ago.”

“It's weird, but I haven't missed using it, or watching the news, or picking up emails. There's so much going on with my family. Like I'm living in a soap opera, so who needs TV?”

I went outside with him and inhaled the resilient barnyard air. My heart brimmed with gratitude and hopefulness. Mommy Anna had a diagnosis! She'd agreed to surgery, a procedure Dr. Brewster said would reduce if not erase her symptoms. Yet I was hesitant about leaving her and my mother, whose future was anything but certain. And I was about to blunder into Beth's lioness den with a man I still didn't trust.

Zach seemed at ease, his arms swinging at his sides as we approached the pickup. I slowed my pace.

“Are you worried about my mother?” Zach opened the passenger door, but I made no move to get in. “She promised to be on her best behavior,” he said.

“She's not our only problem.”

“I'm telling you the truth about Justin—if that's what's on your mind.” Zach steepled his hands. “I've done the math. Justin was born a year after Victoria got hitched. I certainly wasn't having relations with her. Maybe the little boy is someone else's child, but I'd swear using a lie detector, he's not my son.”

“Then why is Beth sure he is?”

“My mother is apparently gullible. And she knows I'd like a family.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “How can you be so glib about a woman you supposedly loved and a little boy who doesn't have a dad? You did love Victoria at one time didn't you?”

“Yes, I did.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “At least I thought I did.”

“And you would have married her?”

“Yes.” He blinked away a veneer of moisture pooling across his eyes.

“But now, you don't give a can of beans for her or her innocent child? What if you miscalculated and Justin really is your son?”

“Someday I'd like a child, more than anything. And a faithful, loving wife.” He wiped the corner of his eye. “But I'm not his father.”

His hands glided to my waist and he drew me toward him. “I'd better hug you now,” he said, “before you start wearing straight pins.”

He bent his head, his lips nearing mine. I felt him inhaling my breath, drawing me closer like a force of gravity I couldn't resist.