The Christmas Quilt: Quilts of Love Series (16 page)

In those days births were at home, much as they are in your community, yes? Each time I came to the home, Nailah would be patiently waiting by the front door, in the small amount of shade afforded by a vendor stand her father had made. Though she was young, she could weave baskets with skill, and she would be there waiting and weaving.

I would say hello, and go in to check on her mother. She would nod solemnly but not speak until I was on my way out. Then she would ask me, “Is my mother’s time near? Will my brother be born soon?”

Nailah understood we didn’t know if her mother was to have a girl or boy, but always her question was the same, and always my answer was the same—that only God knew the time and place of our comings and goings. I expected her to persist, but each time she would say, “Thank you very much, Dr. Kamal,” though of course she said it in her native tongue.

As her mother’s time drew near, the Festival of the Yams began. The streets were filled with people watching the parade, singing songs, dancing and drumming. The crops had been good that year, and the celebration was . . . how do you say? Over the top! The day Nailah’s mother went into labor, I noticed there were no baskets left in the little girl’s booth. She had sold every one, for all the women of the village had dug up the yams the day before and had carried them home in baskets on top of their heads. And though Nailah could have joined in the festivities, or even gone into the house to sit in comfort, she remained in her booth as if it were any other workday.

When I asked her about that, she said, “My mother is laboring, so I will labor as well.”

“And when the babe is born?” I asked.

“Then we will celebrate together.” Her eyes were serious and her tone even. She reminded me she would be outside praying to our God, Yahweh, for as many hours as it took for her brother to enter this world from the heavenly one.

It was one of my more difficult home births. Perhaps that is why I remember, but I like to think God has placed the family in my heart because of Nailah, because of the peace that child embodied and her strong belief.

The morning sun had risen on the next day, the second day of the festival, when I walked back out the front door. The father, he had wept and prayed through the entire night. Perhaps his prayers had saved the mother—who survived, but wouldn’t bear more children. He sent me out to fetch Nailah, to bring her in to meet her little brother.

She lay curled in the corner of her booth. Four or five baskets were stacked at her feet, evidence of how she had spent her night. It was plain she was awake though. Her eyes sought mine as soon as I trudged around the corner.

“Does he look like me?” she asked. Those were her first words. She didn’t ask if it was a boy or if he was well. Her faith had long covered those questions.

“Perhaps in the eyes. Yes, I think he does.”

She jumped to her feet and threw her arms around my neck. Squeezing tightly, she whispered, “May God’s angels ever be with you.”

And then she was gone, running into the house, her sandals slapping against the hard-packed dirt yard.

“Did you ever see her again?” Annie asked.

“I didn’t. Soon I was called back to Johannesburg, where I had done my residency. Not long after that, my wife and I made the decision to move to the United States, and I received even more training.”

“She’s a woman now,” Leah whispered.

“Yes, I suppose she is.” Dr. Kamal stood. “And one day your children will be grown as well. Perhaps they will ride to Philadelphia on a bus, and see an old black man from Africa, one who was given the privilege of helping them into this world.”

He paused, touched Leah’s stomach once more and said, “A blessed Thanksgiving to you both.”

After he’d left the room, Annie focused on finishing her Sunbonnet Sue. When Leah had clipped the thread to her nine squares, she placed it on the side of the bed and sighed. “He can tell a story.”

“That he can,” Annie agreed.

“Love, joy, and peace.”

“I can hardly wait to hear patience.” Annie folded their quilt pieces and placed them in her bag.

Six quilt squares to go, and eight days until Leah’s babies would be born.

18

A
dam stood beside Charity looking at the rows and rows of quilts hung on the clotheslines behind Annie and Samuel’s house. The one thing more surprising than the quantity of quilts was the amount of cars and buggies lining the lane.

“Where did they all come from, Charity?”

“The quilts or the people?” She bumped him with her shoulder, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“The quilts. Surely you women didn’t sew them all since Leah was taken to the hospital.”

“
Nein.
Women quilt. Amish women quilt constantly. Tell me you haven’t noticed this.”

Adam scuffed his work boot against the ground, grateful that the day had dawned sunny and not too cold. The little snow they’d had on Thanksgiving eve had melted. “So you’re saying—”

“Every woman I know has three or four quilts put back, for such a time as this.”

“And then they—”

“They give them, Adam.” Charity pulled the strings of her prayer
kapp
forward, then ran her fingers from the top of the string to the bottom as she studied him. “Think of it as money in the bank—put back for an emergency. This is an emergency, and everyone is happy to help. Oh, look at the woman in red heels fingering
mamm’s
double wedding ring. I should go and see if she wants to make an offer.”

His sister was off before he could say another word. Nor did he have time to be alone. His
Onkel
Eli replaced her before Adam was able to take a single step.

“Nice to see the community pulling together.” Eli slipped his thumbs under his overalls. Though the day was cool, he wore no coat, only a long-sleeved blue shirt and black suspenders with his customary black pants. “And a real blessing this happened at a time that there are so many tourists in the area.”

Adam studied him, waiting.

“Think, Son. If the babes had been born sick, and we’d had the auction after Christmas? Not many tourists on a cold, snowy January Saturday. I’m sure
Gotte
would have provided, mind you.” Eli nodded toward Rachel. “Could be He’s even using this to soften the hearts of others among us.”

“You think so?”

“She closed down her shop to help today. Asked me to pick her and the boys up. Said if folks wanted to spend their dollars, they could spend them here. Doesn’t sound like the entrepreneur I’ve come to—” Eli stopped himself, looked left and then right, as if to see who might be listening. “To tell you the truth, Adam, she didn’t sound at all like the
business woman
I’ve come to care for.”

“You? And Rachel?”

“Don’t have to publish it in the paper.” Eli grinned and rocked back on his heels. “I figured being a newly married man yourself, you’d understand.”

“But . . . Rachel?”

“Never limit yourself to looking on the outside, son. Though she’s a beautiful woman, I understand she’s presented a hard shell to the world. I think it may be because of the difficult past she’s had. Rachel has shared a little of her history with me the last few weeks.”

As they watched, Rachel knelt beside both of her sons and spoke with them, pointing toward the area where Rebekah was accepting payment for goods. Jacob was directing children to help folks carry their purchases back to their cars and buggies. Matt and Zeke nodded once, and then hurried toward Adam’s parents. Rachel stood, then scanned the crowd until her eyes found Eli. Instead of walking toward him, she smiled and turned to help the women preparing lunch.

Adam shook his head. “I suppose I never thought of you, well, of you . . .”

Eli’s grin was answer enough. “I had begun to wonder myself, if
Gotte
had such plans for me. It would seem maybe he was allowing me to wait, so I could be a father to those two boys.”

“Not that I’ve asked yet,” he added.

“Oh.” Adam couldn’t think of what else to say. His head was spinning. His
Onkel
Eli? Married? To Rachel?

“I should go and help those young children with my toys. They seem at a loss as to where the
on
button is for a pull horse.” His laughter followed him as he walked away.

Wow. Adam had a lot to talk to Leah about when he called her. He was sure there was something serious going on between Charity and David, and possibly Reba and Trent, and now Eli and Rachel. Not to mention describing all the people who had shown up for the auction. How he wished his wife could be here.

He trudged toward the barn where the men had set up the food tables, when his youngest sister joined him.

“Bake sale is going well,” Reba said. “And we’ve nearly sold out of tickets for the luncheon.”

“It’s . . . a lot to take in.” He waved one arm toward the tables holding crafts, including a good deal of
Onkel
Eli’s wooden toys. With the other hand, he pointed at the pen of animals. “Are we auctioning those goats and sheep?”

“
Ya.
Folks love to see an animal auction. Adam Weaver, you act as if this was your first benefit auction.”

“Honestly, I didn’t pay much attention before. The last few years, I was more interested in sneaking off alone . . .” He stopped suddenly, realizing who he was talking to—his little sister!

Reba’s laughter pealed across the yard, mingling with the sounds coming from the dozens of children, Amish and
Englisch
. “You think I didn’t figure that out? Tell me something new about my
bruder
, something worthy to be published in
The Budget
.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a bad influence on you, is all. And don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at Trent. He’s your boss, you know, and an
Englischer
to boot.”

Reba stepped closer, looping her arm through his. “What does love feel like, Adam?”

Instead of answering, Adam groaned.

“Does it make your stomach hurt a little? Does it make you want to sing sometimes, and other times long to hold your head in your hands? Is that what love is like?”

“If you want to know about love, read Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians.”

“
Ya
, I know. It’s patient, kind. It doesn’t envy or boast.”

“Fine. You know the scripture. Then you know you should be thinking of someone from within our own community of faith.”

Reba pulled him to a stop, right next to the baked goods table. “He’s speaking to the bishop, Adam. About converting.”

“Reba, you know how difficult that is. Since I’ve been a
kind
, only three, no, four people have tried and all have failed.”

Smiling so brightly Adam’s heart actually hurt for her, Reba continued pulling him down the rows of tables. “All the more reason for us to pray for him, dear
bruder
. Now, I want you to try some of my cookies.”

“You baked?”

“Yes. It’s the first time in years, and I’m afraid to auction them before they’ve been sampled by humans.”

Annie had expected Monday to pass slowly. The week seemed to stretch out in front of them like a long road.

“I wish we could have been there,” Leah admitted.

“
Ya
, but if we were there, probably there would have been no need for an auction.”

“True.” Leah sighed and stared at her toes. “One of the good things about the hospital bed is I can raise the foot of the bed and see my toes. The swelling has nearly disappeared from my ankles.”

“Because you’re in bed more.”

“
Ya.
My feet almost look normal.”

“Some reason you’re giggling over there?” Annie was putting the finishing touches on a return letter to Reba. She folded the paper and slipped it into the envelope.

“I was remembering how Adam had to put my shoes on for me. Those were the days.”

“Only two weeks ago.”

“And by the end of this week, he’ll be here. Holding our babies.” Leah placed her hands on her stomach.

A few hours earlier, both of her doctors had stopped by. They agreed that Saturday was the prime date for delivery, if she could make it that long—it would mark the end of her thirty-sixth week. There was a possibility she could go longer, but the odds of that were slim and they cautioned against raising her hopes.

“How many more hours until Adam calls?”

“At least three.” Annie stood and moved to the side of her bed. “Do you want to walk some more? Or quilt?”

“Let’s quilt. I love what we did on Saturday.”

Annie pulled out the long strip of quilting. She and Leah had worked on sewing together more nine-patches, then they had connected the three completed doll squares with sashing.

“I love the dark blue and green strips. They add the right amount of color between the white squares.” Leah sighed. “And I can imagine draping this over my
boppli
, Annie. I’ll think of Paul’s letter to the church in Galatians each time I do, and I’ll remember our stories. I’m sure I will.”

“
Ya.
I have no doubt my memories will be rich every time I pick up my niece or nephew.” Running her hand from left to right, she touched the blue Sunbonnet Sue, the blue and green Overall Sam, and the green and teal Sue. “On other quilts, I waited until all of my squares were done to put together any rows.”

“It helps to see what the finished piece is going to look like. It helps me be more patient.” Leah squinted one eye as she said the last word. “I keep thinking about the doctor’s story and the African girl.”

Annie pulled more fabric from her bag. “Time to start the top row, yes?”

“Yes! Which means we need another story.” Leah pulled the nine squares toward her.

It did Annie’s heart good to see how much healthier her sister-in-law had grown since coming to Mercy. Not only physically, though it was a blessing, to be sure. But Leah’s emotional, mental, and spiritual state had moved a far distance from where it had been when they’d knelt beside her on the floor of her bathroom. Certainly, God had used this time for healing. His ways were above their ways. Indeed they were.

Annie pulled the thread through her needle, and the needle through her layers of cloth. She had prayed about many things as she prepared for her hospital visit this day. Her visits the last few nights with Jenny had reminded her how important friendships were, whether they existed within a family or outside of one.

Reba’s letter and the revelations of her feelings for Trevor were just one more example of how the cords of friendship could stretch and extend beyond where they normally exist. Didn’t she know that? Jenny was a perfect example. It had never mattered Jenny was
Englisch
. She’d been a friend when Annie needed one.

Would those cords of friendship stretch as far as marriage for Reba? Could Trevor withstand the sacrifice of converting to their faith? Reba had confessed she had no desire to leave the Amish way, and Trevor didn’t want her to. He was happy living and working among the Amish, and he respected their faith and worship.

Perhaps it would work out this time.

Maybe friendship and love would be enough to help him through the requirements the bishop would put on him.

Other friendships existed inside a family though, even inside a marriage. Watching Leah piece together her nine-patch squares, Annie wondered if this dear girl she’d grown to love realized what a friend she had in Adam.

Clearing her voice, she set down her quilting, poured them both a cup of water, and said, “Perhaps you should tell the story today.”

“Me?” Leah’s voice squeaked like the gate in their back pasture.

“
Ya.
Tell me a story about Adam.”

Leah’s brow wrinkled as she focused on the fabric and making her stitches even. She didn’t speak for three, four, then five minutes. Annie sat and resumed her own sewing. When Leah started giggling softly, Annie inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

“Adam is not one who is naturally patient.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“He’s more like one of David’s donkeys, wanting something the minute he thinks of it. The man is impatient when it’s not raining because it should be, and eager for it to stop when the storms come.” Leah stopped sewing and looked around the room. “I wonder if maybe it’s our age. Sometimes it feels as if we need to hurry things along.”

Shaking her head, she resumed sewing. “But there was this time after church service. He didn’t know I was watching, and I wasn’t spying on him exactly, but I saw him with Rachel’s youngest, with Zeke . . .”