Pennsylvania Patchwork (20 page)

“Isn't that rather short notice?”

“Not for us. The invitations don't get hand delivered or sent until the couple is published at a Sunday service.”

“Do you feel sad about it?”

“Not in the least.” He chuckled. “Maybe relieved. When she hears about you and me, she'll have nothing to complain about.”

“Hey, wait a minute, Armin—”

“Armin King,” he said. “Don't ya like the name King better than Fleming? And don't you like me better than Zach?”

I came to a halt and swiveled to face him. “Are you actually proposing to me?”

“I'm suggesting we court.”

As the thunder and lightning increased I tried on the name Holly King for size. “Would we both have to join the Amish church?”

“I can think of a thousand worse things.” A gray carriage rolled past us, but Armin didn't seem to notice.

“Are you leading me on?” I said.

“Not in the least. I wasn't going to attend Lynnea's wedding, being as it's so far away, but I would if you came with me. We could take the train or bus. You'd see for sure and certain 'tis no longer anything between the two of us.”

“Someday I would like to go to a real Amish wedding, but I don't think that would be proper etiquette. And my mother and grandmother need me. How about you? Are you going?”

“Not without you. Anyway, my brother needs me. Well, who knows what he'll need when he gets home. Or what he'll do.”

I tried to imagine how I'd proceed if I were in Nathaniel's shoes. The Ordnung did not allow divorce, but that didn't mean a man couldn't act like a downright scumbag—although I'd yet to hear a story of such an Amish husband. Mom made her own father sound like a petty dictator at times, but she was fifteen or sixteen when she'd made that assessment. When her age, I'd thought the same thing about her. If an Amishman left his wife, she'd have the community to support her. She'd never be alone. My biggest fear—abandonment.

A patrol car swerved to the side of the road, stopped, and the window lowered. “Armin King, is that you?” the uniformed driver said.

Armin let go of my hand and strode to the car. “Hullo, Stewart. How ya doin'?”

“Just got a call from a farmer who reported there's an animal prowling around his sheep. Said he's got his shotgun out. Want to come?”

“You bet.” Armin turned to me. “Sorry, Holly, I'd better check this out. Can you get home by yourself or we could maybe give you a lift?”

“No time,” the patrolman said.

“I'll be fine,” I said.

“Okay.” Armin slid his fingertips across my cheeks, then slipped his hands around to the back of my head, and kissed me right on the mouth!

Before I could react, he withdrew and hopped into the car. If he was trying to shock me, he'd succeeded.

I stood in a daze, watching the patrol car's rear lights diminish as it sped away.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Esther felt like a balloon with a pinprick hole. After speaking to Beth, Esther had entered the kitchen feeling ten feet tall, but she'd shrunk since Holly mentioned Larry's text.

Nathaniel had located the woman's abode.

Esther chided herself; what did she expect? The men had traveled to Ohio with a sole purpose. Nathaniel wouldn't leave until he found the woman even if Larry Haarberg gave up and drove back to Lancaster County by himself.

She hummed, then sang, “To everything—”

Her voice cracked; she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Turn, turn, turn. There is a season, turn, turn, turn.” The oldie she and Samuel had performed on street corners decades ago.

She'd believed a new season had arrived and that her life was changing for the better. But perhaps her time for healing, laughter, and embracing was not meant to occur until she met the Lord in heaven.

A torrent of excruciating thoughts churned through her mind like shards of broken glass. Even if the woman in Ohio was a complete stranger, Nathaniel might return a changed man and find Esther drab, her bottle-green eyes faded like Mamm's.

She noticed the saltshaker needed filling. Esther couldn't remember where the extra salt was stored, and she felt light-headed and clumsy, as if her legs had abandoned her. Was Mamm's condition contagious? Ach, she wondered if her mousy brown hair was falling out too.

Listening to raindrops tap the window and a tree branch lashing against the side of the house, Esther walked into the counter and smacked her hip. She gasped from the searing pain. No matter, it was nothing compared to the aching in her heart.

The back door opened and closed, and light footsteps pattered through the utility room. Holly entered the kitchen looking disheveled, her cheeks flushed, her damp hair mussed.

“I secured us a ride for tomorrow.” She removed her jacket, its shoulders a shade darker. “And I left a message for Zach, who didn't answer his phone.” She hung her jacket on a peg. “It's just as well. One less argument.”

“I'm sorry you got caught in the rain.” Esther said, rubbing her hip.

“It doesn't matter.” Holly's lips parted and she glanced to the ceiling as if contradictory thoughts thrummed through her mind—but she didn't share them with Esther.

“I'll see if your grandma feels good enough to come to the table,” Esther said. “Unless there's something you want to talk about.”

“No, not really.” Holly brought glasses out of the cupboard and poured water into them. As she carried two glasses to the table, a blaze of lightning, followed by a booming crash, made her flinch.

The next day, at the one-story clinic on the outskirts of the city of Lancaster, Esther and Holly helped Mamm climb onto the exam table in the endocrinologist's office. The small room's air was laden with bleach and pungent cleaning agents, but Mamm hadn't seemed to notice. Nor had she complained about the glaring overhead lights.

Mamm must have slept through the storm that raged across the county last night. Lightning had spiked the ground with vengeance, striking trees and whitening the sky, followed by deafening roars, sounding like fighter-jets on takeoff. Esther had wondered, as she tossed fitfully, if the tempest were an ill omen, a sign they should stay home today. But this morning, when she rose to milk Pearly, Esther saw violet rays splaying through the fog and the sky clearing. And Mamm had awakened in a cheerful mood. However, when the passenger van showed up, Mamm had balked and refused to leave her house. Esther and Holly had resorted to bribing Mamm with promises of a shopping spree at Zook's Fabric Store, followed by lunch or a dish of ice cream smothered with chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and a maraschino cherry.

Dr. Brewster entered the exam room. “Good morning, Mrs. Gingerich.” She put out her hand to shake Mamm's, but Mamm clasped her hands together, her knuckles whitening. She ordinarily insisted people use her first name, but not today.

“Uh—good morning.” Mamm had sounded lucid while speaking to the endocrinologist's nurse a few minutes ago, but now her voice quavered, and she seemed to be staring past the doctor.

Dr. Brewster was in her late forties, with angular features and her auburn hair bobbed short—a pleasant, efficient type. She greeted Esther, who introduced Holly.

“Mrs. Gingerich, I've reviewed your blood tests and your symptoms, and spoken to my colleagues.” Dr. Brewster logged into a computer, sat on a wheeled stool, and rolled over to Mamm. “I believe you have hyperparathyroidism.”

“Her thyroids are working overtime?” Holly asked. She stood at the foot of the examination table, while Esther sat on a chair.

“No, hyperparathyroidism is an excess of parathyroid hormone in the bloodstream due to overactivity of one or more of her four parathyroid glands.” Dr. Brewster spoke methodically, her words enunciated.

“I've never heard of it,” Holly said.

“The parathyroid glands are four pea-sized glands located on the thyroid gland in the neck.” Dr. Brewster pointed to a colored chart on the wall of the interior of the human throat. “If the parathyroid glands secrete too much hormone, as happens in primary hyperparathyroidism, the balance is disrupted. Blood calcium rises, as it has in your case, Mrs. Gingerich. This high level of calcium in the blood is sometimes what signals an abnormality in the parathyroid glands.”

Mamm's speckled hand wrapped her neck. “Is it cancer?”

“No, you do not have cancer.”

“Praise the Lord,” Esther said.

Dr. Brewster looked into Mamm's eyes. “But 85 percent of people with primary hyperparathyroidism have a benign tumor called an adenoma on one of the parathyroid glands, causing it to become overactive. Benign tumors are noncancerous.”

Esther stood, her hand moving to Mamm's arm. “'Tis gut news, Mamm, yah?”

“Nee. That hyperpara—whatever she said—is not what's wrong with me.”

“Let's hear the doctor out,” Holly said. Esther was grateful for her daughter's assistance, even if she'd seemed distracted since sunup and had not helped Esther strain and store Pearly's milk.

“Mrs. Gingerich, leaving your blood tests aside, let's go over your symptoms, shall we?” the doctor said. “You mentioned you're tired all the time, that you forget things, and that you feel more irritable than you used to.”

“Nee, I don't feel irritable!”

The doctor sent Esther a sly smile and continued. “Mrs. Gingerich, I've noticed your hair is thinning on the front of your scalp.”

Mamm straightened her Kapp, pulling it forward to conceal the balding spot and bandage. “I'm an old woman.”

“You have heart palpitations.” Dr. Brewster glanced at the computer screen. “And I've noted your blood pressure is high.”

“Why, this hyper … parathyroidism doesn't sound so bad, Mamm.” Esther stumbled on the word and was glad the doctor didn't toss her a condescending look. “Dr. Brewster, is there a medication Mamm can take for it?”

Dr. Brewster's eyes turned serious, but her voice remained calm. “Surgery is the most common treatment for hyperparathyroidism.”

“Nee, I won't have surgery!” Mamm hopped off the exam table. Holly's hands flew out to steady her landing.

“But Mommy Anna,” Holly said, her arm linking with Mamm's to stabilize her, “if Dr. Brewster is right, you sound like a textbook case.”

“I don't care. I certainly will not have surgery. 'Tis a waste of time and money. Ya know we don't have medical insurance.”

“We'll figure a way to pay for it,” Esther said. Although she couldn't imagine how. Perhaps take a loan out at the bank, using the house as collateral. Nathaniel had told her he would put the house in Mamm's and her names, but she had yet to see a legal certificate. And he'd made that commitment before Armin's return and before word of his wife.

“Even so, I won't go under the knife.” Mamm inched toward the door. “Ach, no cutting on my neck. I can't think of anything worse.”

“Even if it makes you feel good enough to visit your sons and your grandchildren in Montana in the spring?” Holly said.

“Well—” Mamm's hand swiped her mouth. “I'll have to pray about it.” She turned to Dr. Brewster. “Are you sure that's my problem?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Isn't that wonderful news?” Holly said. “You could have something ten times worse.”

“I suppose.” Mamm seemed unconvinced, and Esther felt lightheaded herself. And guilty for not forcing Mamm into the doctor's office weeks ago. Why had she allowed Mamm to delay? All because she didn't want to accept a ride from Beth. Yes, Esther had been headstrong and unyielding, like a stubborn mule on a sweltering day.

Esther spoke to Dr. Brewster. “We'll talk about it later.”

“There's nothing to talk about.” Mamm reached for the doorknob and swung the door open.

“On your way out, would you set up another appointment?” the doctor said. “Say, in two weeks? Or sooner would be better.”

“I won't be back.” Mamm tottered into the waiting room.

“Sure you will,” Holly said.

Esther noticed Holly discreetly checking her cell phone. The corners of Holly's mouth dragged down. Esther was disappointed Holly hadn't heard from Larry. Yet, Esther had an inkling something else was troubling her daughter.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

I waved at our hired driver, Cheryl, the heavyset woman sitting behind the wheel of the minivan out front of the clinic. While we were inside seeing Dr. Brewster, the parking lot had filled with cars and a horse and buggy. A busy, thriving practice, I figured—a good sign.

Cheryl hustled out to open the doors. She guided Mommy Anna to the seat behind hers, and helped fasten Mommy Anna's safety belt.

I slid in from the other side and landed in the center of the bench seat. “Mommy Anna, are you sure you're up for shopping?” She looked beat.

“Yah, I can rest on the way there.” She sagged against the seatback and closed her eyes. I imagined she was weighing Dr. Brewster's words. I considered them good news, but my grandma might be terrified.

“We could go straight home if you like,” I said, my upper arm resting against hers.

“Nee, I haven't been out of the house all month.”

Mom climbed in, sandwiching me between her and Mommy Anna. A nice, cozy nest.

“Where to?” asked Cheryl, and Mom mentioned Zook's Fabric Store in Intercourse.

“You bet, one of my favorite places. And it's on the way.” She ferried us onto the main road and pointed us east. “Do you mind if I listen to music?” she asked.

“Not a bit.” I figured the background noise would keep Cheryl from hearing our conversation.

“How do you know where Zook's is?” I asked my mother, noticing a sign for 340.

“Greta took me there in their buggy while you were in Seattle.” She set her purse on her lap, fiddled with the handle. “Greta didn't want to arrive in Montana empty-handed in case there wasn't a fabric store nearby. We boxed armloads of quilting supplies and material for clothing, and sent them ahead to my brother Isaac.”

My phone vibrated several times. I saw Zach's name and number. “It's Zach,” I whispered to Mom, and her shoulders slumped. I knew she'd hoped to hear from Nathaniel by now. “I don't have to answer,” I said.

“No, go ahead.”

I placed the phone to my right ear, nearest Mom. “Hi, Zach. We made it to the doctor's office without a glitch.” I kept my volume low. Mommy Anna didn't seem to hear me; her breathing was slow and her head tilted toward the door. But I assumed Mom caught every word.

“And Anna?” Zach said. “Did the doctor have a prognosis?”

“Yes. Not as serious as we'd feared, but I'd rather explain later. We're all in the van.”

We slowed as we followed a gray carriage that soon turned onto a smaller road. Then our driver accelerated until she reached a slow-moving truck. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel to a bluegrass melody.

I glanced out the side window and saw a substantial farm I hadn't noticed on the drive out. Mommy Anna had fidgeted and fretted the whole way to Dr. Brewster's office, but she seemed at peace. For now, anyway.

“That's great,” Zach said. “Guess what. Missy had six pups this morning. I'm still at my mother's. You all want to stop by on the way home and see them?”

“We're going to buy quilting supplies right now, and then I think Mommy Anna will be too tired.”

“I could come over later and pick you up.”

“I don't think so,” I said, not wanting to step into an unfriendly environment. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Mom smooshed her lips together. “We could go to Beth's with you,” she whispered to me.

I shook my head. “Zach, I need to hang up, but I wonder if you know anything about an animal attacking sheep last night.”

“Yes, I heard a farmer tried to shoot a dog or coyote that was harassing his herd, but the man thinks he missed the culprit.”

“Could the animal be injured?” I imagined a dog lying in a ditch in agony, bleeding to death.

“Yes. Not a good situation if someone comes upon it. You're not alluding to Rascal, are you?”

“No, because I don't believe he's a savage beast.” But deep in my heart, I understood anything was possible. I said a short prayer in my head, pleading with God to bring Rascal home safely.

“Holly, promise me you won't go looking for him,” Zach said. “If he's hurt he could be dangerous. Please call me right away if Armin needs me to treat him.”

“You'd take care of Rascal?”

“Of course I would.”

“Thanks, Zach. I'd better say good-bye now.”

After I disconnected and handed Cheryl the phone to charge, Mom asked, “Why won't you go see the puppies? Beth and I have made up. I could go with you.”

“What if Victoria arrives with her son? And who would look after Mommy Anna?”

“She could come with us or we could hire Lizzie to look after her.”

“Now, that's an outlandish idea if I've ever heard one. You're a bundle of surprises, Mom. Don't we have enough to contend with?”

“We can talk about all that later. I promised Mamm we'd go shopping, and I could use a distraction. What better entertainment than selecting fabric for a quilt? Wait until you see Zook's. Plain on the outside, with a spectacular selection of fabrics at reduced prices.”

“There's a lot I don't know about you,” I told her. “My fault.” Over the years Mom had hand-stitched quilts to sell at the Amish Shoppe, but I didn't realize she loved quilting as much as knitting. Did all children pretty much ignore their parents and assume the world revolved around them? I'd been self-absorbed, fixated on building a career I didn't give two cents about anymore.

“Aren't you looking forward to starting a quilt?” she asked me.

“Yes, I want to, but my mind is spinning like a top.” I spoke into her ear. “Did you hear what Zach said?”

She nodded. “You're growing fond of Armin, aren't you?”

“Why would you say that? Because I'm concerned about Rascal?”

“Come on, I can tell.” Her green eyes searched my face. I felt like I was under a microscope. “Mamm said Armin was sweet on you, so no big surprise,” she said.

“I can't be enamored with two men at the same time, can I?” I hoped the driver couldn't hear me above her radio.

Mom leaned against the door to get a better look at me. “They say all's fair in love and war,” she said. I assumed she was joking to keep our spirits lifted.

“That doesn't sound like an Amish quote.” I tried to sound cheery.

“I suppose not.” Her features became solemn, her eyes losing their glimmer. I surmised her thoughts had writhed back to Nathaniel.

“You're getting a text,” Cheryl said. She handed me my phone over her shoulder.

“It's from Larry,” I told Mom in a subdued voice, and read aloud. “Dropped Nathaniel off at woman's place, in case car was scaring her. Holmes County is a beautiful area, but not as beautiful as you.” I felt the heat of embarrassment staining my cheeks.

“Can you write him back and ask him what their plan is?”

“Sure.” I texted:
When are U going to pick Nathaniel up? Anyone told U what the woman looks like?

Returning in 2 hours. Several descriptions. Age could be right. Nathaniel said she sounds too short, but can't women shrink w/age?

Mom read my phone's screen and sighed. I bet alarming possibilities were crisscrossing her mind. I visualized a bag lady like I'd seen in Seattle, living in filthy rags and talking gibberish. Or maybe Nathaniel's former wife was a stylish, foxy lady who'd become Englisch and didn't want to face being shunned.

“Please tell him how much we appreciate him,” my mother said, and swallowed.

My mom says Thanks!
I wrote.

Glad to help.

“Larry has been a blessing, that's for sure,” Mommy Anna said. She'd awakened as we came to a fork in the road, then rolled past Zook's Fabric Store, a pale yellow two-story structure that looked like it could have once been a home.

Cheryl took a left into a parking lot and stopped near the entrance to Nancy's Notions and Clothing, part of the same building. Only a couple other cars were parked in the center of the lot; at the far end stood a goat pen.

“Three stores under one roof, so you can enter here,” Cheryl told me. “This parking lot was jam-packed last month, but the bulk of the tourists have gone home. You may have the stores mostly to yourself and locals.”

A gray carriage pulled up to the building in front of a sign that said “No Parking.” Two young Amish women got out, tied their horse to the hitching post, and entered the store. I admired their graceful dresses and aprons, their delicate white prayer caps.

“I need hooks and eyes and thread from Nancy's Notions,” Mommy Anna said.

“Sure you're up to this?” I asked her.

“Yah. I just had a
wunderbaar
dream while I was sleeping.” Her eyes brightened. “Esther and I will make you a quilt for a wedding present. We can work on it together. The women in Zook's will help us select everything we need. The staff is excellent.”

“Hold your horses, who says I'm getting married?”

“Are you joking, Holly?” Mom snickered. “You have suitors coming out your ears.”

“Yah, three of them,” Mommy Anna said, her voice animated. “Only one is Amish, but who wouldn't want a quilt as a wedding gift?”

Cheryl tipped her ear back, probably to listen to us, not that I could blame her.

“I'd love to make Holly a quilt, whether she marries or not.” Mom looped her arm through mine.

“Thanks, Mom.” From watching her, I recalled the hours and meticulous care for details required to complete a hand-stitched quilt. “I'm grateful to both of you, but, Mommy Anna, don't your hands hurt too much?”

“Dr. Brewster said she's going to make me better.” She readjusted her glasses and set them on the bridge of her nose. “Unless you think her diagnosis is incorrect.”

“No, I believe her,” I said.

Mommy Anna's elbow tapped mine. “First, Holly should choose a husband,” she said. “Then I'll decide if I want the surgery.”

I could see it all now: my grandma would delay the surgery exactly as she'd delayed today's appointment, until it was too late. And I lost her.

A wacky idea came to mind. “I will choose a spouse, Mommy Anna, after you commit to the surgery,” I shot back. “Once we schedule the date with Dr. Brewster.”

“Holly, what are you thinking?” Mom gaped at me. “Marriage is not to be trifled with lightly.”

I winked at Mom, who stared back with huge eyes.

“It's not fair.” Mommy Anna crossed her arms, jamming her thumbs under her armpits. “You're trying to trick me.”

“I want what's best for you,” I said. “Both of us have monumental decisions to make.” I did want to get married, someday.

Cheryl got out and stood near Mommy Anna's door, but didn't open it. Several minutes passed. We three in the van stared straight ahead until Mommy Anna finally smoothed her apron.

“Yah, okay, I'll agree, Holly, if you'll dress Amish for a week, before you choose your future husband.” Mommy Anna grinned, the first genuine toothy grin I'd seen in weeks. “And that includes a Kapp.”

“Say you'll do it,” Mom whispered. “She'll probably forget.”

“No, I won't,” Mommy Anna said, proving her hearing was excellent.

“You promise you'll do what Dr. Brewster wants?” I said. “I'm not going to trek around wearing Amish garb, then have you tell me you forgot this agreement.” I undid my seat belt.

“I won't forget. You want me to put it in writing?”

“Not a bad idea,” my mother said.

I turned to Mommy Anna. “In other words, I could call Dr. Brewster's office right now and set up a pre-op appointment?”

“Yah, I agree to do it. You place the call.” Her lower lip tightened. “But I won't go unless you fulfill your half of the bargain. I mean it.”

“Where will I get a dress that will fit me other than at Nathaniel's?” I regretted bringing up his name for Mom's sake.

“Mine would be too big in the middle,” Mommy Anna said. “But I think I have a couple in the attic that were Esther's.”

“They'd be so old,” Mom said. “Why did you hang on to them?” She leaned forward to look at Mommy Anna.

“I'd hoped for another daughter,” Mommy Anna said, “but the gut Lord gave me five sons, so I'm not complaining.” She reached across me and patted my mother's knee. “And the best daughter there ever was.”

Mom's eyes grew moist. “Guess I have the best Mudder in the whole world too.”

“Holly, what's your favorite color?” Mommy Anna tossed me a wry smile.

I glanced down at my teal-blue jacket. “Any shade of blue.”

“Then we'll sew you a blue wedding dress, too.”

“Now, wait a minute. Let's stick to one everyday dress, okay?”

“Yah, for now.”