Pennsylvania Patchwork (18 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Esther felt the cell phone vibrate once, the moment Holly was out the door. She couldn't leave Mamm alone. Not with the doll.

“I have to answer this call,” Esther said. “It could be Larry or Nathaniel.”

“You have a phone in the house?” Mamm's mouth narrowed. “What next?”

In her haste, Esther's hand fumbled as she extracted the phone from her pocket. She dropped it. “Oh, no!” She picked it up, praying she hadn't broken it. “Hello?”

She grabbed the doll and stood it on the refrigerator, then dashed to the back door. Holly and Jeremiah were at the bottom of the steps in conversation. “The cell phone,” Esther said, ignoring Jeremiah's look of concern. Esther descended the stairs. “I dropped it, then tried to answer, but no one was there.”

Holly reached out, took the phone, and slid it in her pocket. “Don't worry, Mom, probably a text from Larry. I'll check his message later. I'll be in soon.”

Esther hesitated, then mounted the stairs. She heard Jeremiah invite Holly to ride home with him, but Holly begged off. “I'll visit you again next week.”

“You could spend the night if ya like,” Jeremiah said. “We'd have plenty of time for talking.”

Esther was tempted to dawdle outside the back door, but didn't dare. Sure enough, when Esther reentered the kitchen she saw Mamm had gotten to her feet and was reaching for the doll, inches out of her grasp.

“Can't I leave you alone for a minute?” Esther said, then was sorry for her snippy tone of voice. “Please forgive me, Mamm, I'm taking my frustrations out on you and have no right.” Esther should have asked her mother not to move the doll or taken it outside. But then Mamm might have followed her. Esther was reminded of when Holly was a toddler; her daughter had needed constant supervision. Esther was mothering Mamm, making Esther feel as if the generations had leapfrogged.

Mamm's lips pursed and she thumped back onto her chair. “How do you expect the bishop to let you into baptism classes if he finds you with a cell phone?” She hunched over her empty coffee cup.

Esther refilled it. “You're right, I shouldn't turn it on in the house.”

“Or ever use one,” Mamm said.

“I'm waiting to hear from Larry and Nathaniel.”

“That's no excuse.”

“I was wrong, Mamm. And wrong to grow impatient with you just now.”

How and why Mamm had brought the doll downstairs was a subject Esther didn't want to tackle. She felt a dull headache establishing itself at the edges of her cranium.

“Well?” Mamm mixed three tablespoons of sugar into her coffee. “Since you have a phone, tell me who called.”

“I don't know. Holly will fill us in.” Esther tried to bolster herself into acting bravely, but she was tired of pretending to be courageous—a lifetime of putting up a false front.

Minutes later, Holly came in. “Larry texted. They're on their way to this woman's cabin. Larry's driving Nathaniel, his cousin, and a minister.” Holly's gaze latched onto Esther's. “And Larry said he ran a make on Chap McLaughlin through Larry's office at the bank and has the guy's phone number. Chap came out clean and he served in the army in the early seventies.”

“We owe Larry a lot,” Mamm said. “It's a shame he ain't Amish.”

“Yah, he's acting as a family friend,” Esther said.

“And someone else texted.” Holly held the phone up to Esther to read the screen: “Thinking of U, Z.” Holly gave a one-shouldered shrug and stowed the phone in her pocket.

“I wasn't eavesdropping,” Esther said, “but I heard Jeremiah inviting you to his farm.”

“I accepted,” Holly said. “But I told him next week would be better.”

“And Nathaniel's buggy?”

“He and Armin have that switcheroo figured out for tomorrow morning, after milking. Hopefully Armin will be gone when Zach arrives.”

“Zach's coming to check on Cookie tomorrow?” Mamm said.

“Yes, I'm sure he'll look her over.” Esther put her index finger to her lips to signal Holly not to mention Mamm's doctor's appointment the next day. It seemed Mamm had forgotten about it.

“No sign of Rascal.” Holly's arms flopped to her sides as if her hands were too cumbersome to use.

Esther crested an arm around Holly's shoulder. “He might be at Nathaniel's. Maybe Lizzie broke down and let him in the house, or shut him in an outbuilding.”

She knew her daughter would be devastated if anything happened to Armin's dog, but Esther was too worried about Nathaniel to spare energy on Rascal. And should Jeremiah's letters be found, Esther wasn't sure she wanted to read them. Maybe it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.

“From what Jeremiah says, Armin had better find Rascal quick.” Mamm added more sugar to her coffee until the cup almost overflowed. She leaned forward and supped off the top, lapping like a horse at the water trough. Never had Esther seen her mother use such uncouth manners.

Armin entered the kitchen sock-footed, hat in hand. “Anna, I'm going to take your cow, Pearly, down to Nathaniel's until he returns. Otherwise she'll have to wait too long between milkings.”

“I'll milk Pearly,” Esther said. All heads whipped around to evaluate her facial expression. “I'm serious. I can milk a cow. And gather the eggs too.”

“Would you teach me?” Holly asked, surprising Esther.

“I guess, why not?”

Armin's thumb moved up and down his suspender. “I could show you myself, Holly, but cows require milking mighty early. And I told you you'd never have to milk cows while I'm around. 'Tis man's work.”

“How about you learn to quilt instead, Holly?” Mamm said.

“That's a great idea,” Esther said.

“I started a sunshine shadow—I think, but can't recall.” Mamm fidgeted with her napkin. “I have pieces already cut, but you could do anything you wanted with it. Holly, will ya please get my wicker basket in the Daadi Haus? It's on the floor by the easy chair.”

Holly strode through the front room and returned with a handled basket. She peered into a variety of fabric scraps. “This looks too complicated.”

“How about a nine-patch?” Esther said. “That's what my mamm's mamm
,
Emma Mae, taught me, when I first learned to quilt.”

Holly set the basket on the table. “Only if you'll help me every step of the way.”

“Sure, in fact, you and I can work on a quilt together. Or if you prefer, I could start one too.”

“I love the quilt you made for me when I was a girl,” Holly said. “I should have brought it with us. Maybe Dori will send it.”

Esther envisioned the burgundy birds perched on wreaths of tulips applied to an off-white background—ten to twelve even stitches per inch—each sewn by her hand. Appropriate for Holly's bed in Seattle, but perhaps not in Mamm's house. The image of Holly and her working side by side brought Esther a feeling of tranquility, then her thoughts transferred to her and Nathaniel's future wedding bed—but she banished the image. She'd make a quilt for Holly or send it to her in-laws in Montana instead.

“Let's go to the fabric store tomorrow, after that other appointment.” Esther winked at Holly.

Understanding seemed to bloom in Holly's warm brown eyes. “That's a super idea. I'll need Mommy Anna's help choosing the right colors, and I don't know how much yardage to buy or which threads and needles.”

“I've got plenty of scraps around the house,” Mamm said.

“We'll need muslin and new backing,” Esther said. “Mamm could help us pick the right weight. And I wonder how old Mamm's thread is. It might need to be replaced.”

“Please come with us, Mommy Anna,” Holly said. “A ladies' morning out. And maybe eat lunch somewhere after.”

“I haven't been to a restaurant—well, now, I can't recall the last time. I'll have to wait to see how I feel tomorrow.”

“Okay, we'll see how the day unfolds.”

Armin broke into the conversation. “In the meantime, what about Pearly?”

“Leave her here. I'll come milk her right now.” Esther felt a distant yearning in her chest for her youth. “If three women are to live in this house, one of us will have to do the milking.”

“As soon as Nathaniel comes back, I will,” Armin said, but Esther knew her life might never be the same after Nathaniel's return. And Holly? She seemed to be treading water at the deep end of the swimming pool.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I had Chap McLaughlin's telephone number entered in my cell phone. But I couldn't call him with Mommy Anna in the kitchen and my mother out in the barn. I'd have to wait until later.

I glanced up at the doll on top of the refrigerator and felt an influx of uneasiness. I'd need to put it out of sight so Mommy Anna didn't do what a girlfriend's grandmother had: the aged woman stood on a chair, fell, broke her hip, and contracted pneumonia. I was determined Mommy Anna would see Dr. Brewster tomorrow. Zach had better show up. If he didn't, I'd call a professional driver and be done with Zach forever!

He'd texted to say he was thinking of me. It
sounded like a message to a friend, not his future wife. He'd shortened his name to Z, as he always did. No reference to his looking forward to seeing me tomorrow. No “I can't live without you!” or “I love you!” I longed to hear the words.

I could text him back, but didn't know what to say. He needed to straighten out his life before I became a part of it. But deep down inside me, like an underground river, flowed a current of desire for him.

“I still want to learn to milk a cow,” I said to Mommy Anna, trying to substitute my thoughts for another topic.

“Why would ya want to milk old Pearly?”

“For fun. And, who knows, Mom could be right about we three women living together.”

“I doubt that will happen. Anyways, Nathaniel promised he'll supply us with milk.”

I wondered if she recalled where Nathaniel was or the repercussions of his quest. “Still, I want to master everything he and Armin do for us. Including driving a buggy.” I was determined to overcome my gut-fear of horses. Armin would help me.

“You want to learn to bake bread instead?” Mommy Anna flapped up her hands. “Ach, I forgot to start the dough today. Where's my memory up and gone to?”

I wanted to tell her Dr. Brewster might help fix her in a jiffy, but didn't wish to spook Mommy Anna if she'd forgotten about her appointment.

“We have plenty of bread,” I said. “Mom baked two loaves yesterday.”

Like a homing pigeon, my mind orbited back to Zach. I relived our first luscious kiss on the way home from the airport, which had seemed like an impetuous act. But he'd said he wanted to kiss me since first we met. My mind replayed his out-of-the-blue proposal. Nothing else about him seemed to be reckless. When I'd first met him I'd found him off-putting, probably because my nerves had been jangled and he was so relaxed. I'd been a jittery mess and had turned to Zach's mother, Beth, for support. I'd spoken openly and given Beth my confidence. In doing so, I'd possibly jeopardized my mother.

Relentless questions heaped up like a stack of uneaten pancakes gone cold. I recalled: Zach told me he'd gladly raise my son as his stepchild, if I had one. Would I not embrace his little boy in the same fashion? Yes, I would. Of course I would. And Justin was a cutie if I'd ever seen one. But after I'd learned how deceitful my mother was—like having a rug pulled out from under me—I wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

I felt a shift inside, as if regaining my equilibrium after disembarking a merry-go-round at a carnival. The thought of losing Zach didn't shake me down to my core, as it had before. Maybe his stalling was for my benefit, a sign from God, the Holy Spirit tapping me on the shoulder—I should pay heed. Was I supposed to break off with Zach and join the Amish church like Mom?

I would have considered becoming Amish an absurd option only last month, but today the idea seemed reasonable. I'd always longed for an extended family and a sense of belonging. Here it lay right in this very community.

I'd make a mental list of the pros and cons and speak to Bishop Troyer. When I'd met him I'd been impressed with his wisdom and fairness. I was pretty sure the bishop would not pressure me to join. It wasn't very often that an Englischer chose to become Amish, but I'd heard several in the area had been baptized into the church. I should seek them out and discover the pitfalls and benefits. I'd been told the Amish population continued to grow because of large families, not through evangelizing. Most—up to 90 percent—of the young Amish chose to join the church after their running-around period. Quite impressive. Even Armin was coming back to roost and had in essence proposed to court me. I wondered if he were entering the marriage arena only to irk Zach. Or was Armin serious?

Mommy Anna yawned without covering her mouth.

“Come on, let's get your feet up,” I said, and guided her into the Daadi Haus for a nap. She had a busy day ahead of her tomorrow.

As we passed the doll, she didn't glance up at it or comment. And my seeing its flashy dress, high heels, and intricate hairdo didn't appeal to me as before. Even if Dad had purchased it, the doll didn't fit in this house or in this county. Thinking about it only bogged me down.

I helped Mommy Anna ease onto her bed; her eyelids slid shut and her breathing slowed to a sleeping state. I took the doll upstairs and stuck it in my mother's room next to the folded silk.

I was itching to call Chap McLaughlin. If I were Amish, I'd wait for his letter. On the other hand, if the letter, doll, and silk were a prank or an honest mistake, I didn't think my mother could endure another disappointment, not to mention my own anxieties. I needed a resolution—enough of this free-falling like an acorn and hoping the ground beneath me was soft and cushy instead of a slab of cement.

I heard a rapping on the kitchen door. I dismissed Mom and Armin; they'd stroll right in. I glanced out a window and saw Beth's minivan parked outside the barnyard. My mind had been so entrenched in thought I hadn't heard her tires roll up. Beth was the last person I wanted to see. I was tempted not to answer the door. But then I heard another rap-rap, followed by, “Yoo-hoo, anyone home?”

Her saccharine voice made me cringe. I guessed Beth was used to entering the house; she'd been Mommy Anna's surrogate daughter for decades during my mother's absence.

I descended the stairs and went into the kitchen to see the tallish blonde, her long hair parted on the side and held back by a clip. “Hello, Holly.” Her gaze didn't quite meet mine. She wore a camel-colored midlength skirt and a matching quilted jacket. “Good to see you.”

“Hello, Beth.” Venomous verbal missiles did a tango on the tip of my tongue, but I pressed my lips together to curtail them.

“Zach asked me to stop by and apologize.” Beth's gaze finally met mine.

“In other words, Zach requested you come or you wouldn't be here?”

“Not entirely. I've been inhospitable the last few weeks and I owe you an apology.” Beth unbuttoned her jacket, revealing a small-flowered blouse. “I've had my hands full.”

“My hunch is ever since you heard Zach planned to marry me I've turned into a pariah.” And that Mom had Beth sized up right.

“I was surprised.” She fingered her wedding band. “Zach and you seemed hasty, especially since you'd never demonstrated affection for him. In front of me, anyway.”

“But now that I do care for him, you're horrified to have me for a daughter-in-law?” My voice sounded brittle, like a sheet of ice ready to splinter.

“No—”

“Because I'm Esther Fisher's daughter? You and Mom will continue your competition over my dad even though you're happily married and my father's dead? Do you hold Mom responsible for Dad's death?”

“To be totally honest, I still harbor some resentment, for which I ask God's forgiveness. But that's not my reason for wanting you and Zach to delay getting married.”

“Last month, you invited me over and even divulged he was fond of me. It seemed like you wanted nothing more.”

“I shouldn't have, knowing Victoria might resurface. She'd told me her husband left her a few months ago, and that he didn't even visit his son or pay child support.”

“I don't get why you kept in touch with her in the first place.” I stepped nearer, in-her-face close. “How long have you known about her little boy?”

“I knew Vicki—what I call Victoria—had a child, but it wasn't until I told her Zach wanted to marry you did she tell me he was Justin's father.”

“And you believe her over your own son?” I felt compelled to defend Zach when I didn't know the truth myself.

“I've always hoped Zach would have children, but I've acted atrociously. I was wrong to interfere. Will you accept my apology?”

“Why should I?” I recalled skinning my knees as a child—the stinging, raw pain of her rejection was worse.

“I'm asking you for forgiveness.”

I folded my arms. “Doesn't forgiveness follow repentance? And don't give me a ration of Christian platitudes. The truth is you hope Zach dumps me so he and Victoria can get together again. A ready-made family.”

“I can see I've hurt you, Holly.” Her hands rose as if to hug me, but I recoiled out of her grasp.

“You said you loved my grandmother, but you haven't visited her in weeks.”

“I have been neglectful, what with Vicki and Justin, and Missy expecting her pups any day.” She fastened one of her jacket buttons. “In fact, I should get back to her. Missy has been acting restless and nesting. Zach said she'll most likely deliver the pups tonight or in the morning.”

Using tactile memory, I recalled the border collie's luxurious coat. I wondered how the dog was doing—her ribs must be extended and her middle hanging low—but I resisted asking. I kept my face an aloof mask, while my brain weighed the specifics. Zach had promised to be here in the morning at nine thirty, knowing he might be needed to help deliver Missy's litter. Would he simply not show up? Half of me could understand, but he should have warned me and offered to find us another ride. Certainly not Beth, but I knew there were drivers-for-hire in the county.

“Is Anna around?” Beth asked, moving toward the sitting room.

My hands akimbo, I barred her way. “She's asleep and I won't let you disturb her.”

“All right.” Beth looked crestfallen. “Please send Anna my love.” She receded toward the back door, and I shut it behind her.

The words from the Lord's Prayer, which I'd recited at church my whole life but never given ample thought, came to mind: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Exactly what Jeremiah had mentioned to me in the buggy.

I thought of examples of how readily the Amish offered forgiveness, like after the shooting in the one-room schoolhouse in 2006. I remembered watching the footage on TV after the atrocity, how blown away I'd been that the Amish extended forgiveness to the assassin. Some had attended the shooter's funeral and reached out to his grieving wife. Bishop Troyer would urge me to follow Beth and offer forgiveness.

But feeling the way I did, anything I said to Beth would be an empty cliché.