The Quilter's Daughter (26 page)

C
ome sit with me awhile, Abby,” Fannie said, patting the sofa cushion beside her. “We can have a cup of tea and look at the schee—pretty—snow out the living room window.”

Abby swished her dust mop back and forth across the hardwood floor like there was no tomorrow. “I don’t have time, Mom. I’ve got bread rising in the kitchen, clothes needing to be washed, more cleaning to do, and babies to bathe when they wake up from their morning naps.” Her eyes looked hollow and tired, like she hadn’t slept in many days, and Fannie couldn’t help but feel concerned.

“We’ve got all day to finish our chores, daughter,” she said softly. “And you don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“Jah, well, the work won’t get done if we sit around watchin’ the snow fall, now will it?” Abby said sharply, holding her body rigid.

The air between them felt thick like butter, and Fannie’s muscles coiled tight. It wasn’t like her sweet girl to be so rude. Abby was usually soft-spoken and kind, no matter what the circumstances. “Are you feelin’ all right this morning?”

“I’m fine.” Abby squinted and massaged her temples, like she might have a headache. “If you need to relax, then please do, Mom.”

“It’s you who needs to relax. Ever since you returned from Ohio three months ago, all you’ve done is work.”

Abby held the dust mop in midair. “The floor’s dirty from the kinner tracking in mud and snow; there’s always lots to be done.”

“That’s true, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

“You still tire easily, and it’s my responsibility to help.”

“Why do you feel it’s necessary to care for me, Abby?”

Abby blinked. “Because—because Dad asked me to before he died.”

Fannie’s eyebrows lifted. “What?”

“He asked me to see that your needs were met if he didn’t make it, and I’m keeping to that promise.”

Tears clouded Fannie’s vision, while guilt gnawed at her stomach. She should have had this discussion with Abby sooner. “Oh, Abby, I’m sure your daed didn’t mean for you to work yourself to death in an effort to meet my needs. He would have wanted you to build a life of your own and take care of your needs, too.”

Abby sniffed. “It’s too late for that, Mom. I gave up bein’ with Lester to come here, and now he’s gone.” She quickly ran the dust mop across the floor near the woodstove. The hiss and crackle of the logs burning should have offered comfort, but they seemed only to fuel her frustration.

Fannie reached for her cup, sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Should she say what else was on her mind, or would it be best to let it go? “I’m thinkin’ your needing to work has more to do with you tryin’ to forget the past than it does with keeping your promise to your daed,” she blurted.

Abby compressed her lips and kept right on sweeping.

Fannie sent up a quick prayer, determined to try one more time. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to work at the quilt shop on Monday of next week. Naomi’s made a doctor’s appointment for the boppli that day.”

Abby’s eyebrows drew together, and the floor creaked under her feet. “Is Susan sick?”

“It’s just for a checkup, and I suppose it might include a shot or two if the doctor says it’s time.”

Abby moved to the other side of the room, swishing the dust mop along the baseboard near the wall.

“Would you be willing to manage the quilt shop for Naomi that day?” Fannie persisted.

“I can’t, Mom. You know I can’t.”

“It’s hard for Naomi to haul both girls into town and try to watch them, plus help Caleb in the store, and wait on customers in the quilt shop, too.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Abby pushed the mop under Abraham’s favorite rocker, and then did the same to the chair beside it. “Can’t Matthew be there on Monday?”

“He’s got a dental appointment that day. Besides, now that he’s planning to open a woodworking shop—”

“I didn’t realize he was.”

Fannie nodded. “He’s been talking about it for some time. Haven’t you heard him mention it?”

Abby shrugged. “I thought he enjoyed working at the quilt shop.”

“He’s only been filling in, and I doubt he’d be happy doing that for the rest of his life.”

“What about Nancy? Can’t she work there on Monday?”

“Nancy started working as a maad for Anna Beechy last week. Have you forgotten?”

“Maybe you should close the shop until you’re ready to work full time again,” Abby said, making no comment on Nancy’s new job.

“That might not be for a while, if ever.” Fannie took a sip of tea, savoring the pleasant mint flavor and hoping it would help her relax. She wasn’t getting anywhere with her daughter and didn’t know if anything she could say would get through to her. “The twins are a handful, and I’m not sure how well it would work for me to take ’em to the quilt shop every day.”

“Naomi does it.”

“I know, but her girls are further apart in age than my two little fellows.”

“I can watch Timothy and Titus while you go to the quilt shop.”

Fannie shook her head. “You’re at home too much as it is. Wouldn’t you enjoy workin’ among the quilts again?”

Abby’s winced as though she’d pricked her finger with a needle. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You know why, Mom. If Lester hadn’t tried to rescue my quilts, he wouldn’t have been killed.” Abby sucked in a deep breath and released it with a moan. “I doubt I’ll ever have the desire to make another quilt, much less run a quilt shop.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to begin moving on with your life, Abby?”

“I am moving on.”

“No, you’re not. You stay cooped up here most of the time, minding the twins and working until you’re ready to drop.”

With no further comment, Abby headed for the door, holding the dust mop in front of her. A few seconds later, she stepped outside.

A blast of cold air whipped through the open doorway and Fannie shivered. She glanced out the window and saw Abby on the porch, shaking the mop so hard she feared the head might fly right off.
Lord, please intervene on my daughter’s behalf. I fear if she doesn’t soon deal with her pain she’ll likely cave in
.

Abby reentered the living room a few minutes later, leaned the mop in one corner, and grabbed the dust rag from the table where she’d placed it earlier. She swished it across the front windowsills and worked her way around the room, dusting every nook and cranny.

“Naomi told me that Gladys Yutzy and Rhoda Lapp were by the quilt shop the other day,” Fannie commented. “They both asked about you.”

No response.

“I think they’d like to get together and do some quilting.”

Still nothing from Abby.

“Rhoda thinks it would be fun to make a friendship quilt.”

“They can do that without me.”

“Gladys mentioned a quilt auction that’s to be held in Kentucky this spring. They’re looking for Amish quilts from all over the country, so I thought maybe we could send a few from my shop.”

“Whatever you want to do, Mom. It doesn’t concern me.”

Fannie set her cup on the coffee table and stood. “Oh, Abby,
if you’d only get back into the routine of things maybe you would—”

“I won’t work at the quilt shop, and nothing is going to change my mind!” Abby whirled around and fled from the room.

Fannie flopped onto the couch with a groan. “Oh, Lord, what’s it gonna take to reach her?”

“Why do you have to leave for work so early this morning?” Linda asked Jim as he turned off the alarm clock and crawled out of bed.

“I’ve got an early job, and I told you that last night. Just go on back to sleep.”

“I’m already awake, so I may as well get up with you,” she murmured, although it was tempting to stay under the warmth of their cozy Amish quilt.

“I can make my own lunch. There’s no reason for you to get up,” he insisted.

“And let you leave the house with nothing but a thermos full of black coffee and a couple of donuts?” Linda pushed the covers aside and reached for her fuzzy yellow robe, lying on the chair near her dressing table.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.”

While Jim headed for the bathroom, Linda put on her slippers and padded down the hall. She stopped long enough to peek into Jimmy’s room and was relieved to see that he was still asleep.

A short time later, she and Jim were in the kitchen. He stood in front of the coffeepot while she worked at the counter making a ham and cheese sandwich. “Would you like me to fix some scrambled eggs?” she asked. “I can put some of this ham in with them.”

“Nope.”

“A bowl of oatmeal?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well, how about—”

“I said no!”

Linda recoiled, feeling like she had been slapped. “You don’t have to be so mean.”

“I get tired of you hounding me about things,” he muttered.

“I don’t do it on purpose.” She turned her attention back to the sandwich, hoping he wouldn’t see the tears clouding her vision.

“You push too hard and try to smother me the way you do with Jimmy,” he grumbled.

Linda grabbed a knife and slathered some mayonnaise on the bread, willing herself to keep quiet. Since she’d become a Christian, she had tried harder to please Jim, but she often fell short. In fact, it seemed that nothing she did or said was good enough. Jim had become critical, finding fault with even the smallest things.

“I think if you found something constructive to do, we’d all be happier,” Jim said with a grunt.

She whirled around to face him. “What is it you think I should be doing?”

He eyed her critically. “You’ve gained a few pounds since Christmas. It might not be a bad idea if you started exercising so you can shed some of it.”

Linda’s hands went immediately to her hips. Had she put on weight? Maybe a little. “I could enroll in the fitness center you painted. If you’ve changed your mind about me going there, that is.”

Jim’s face turned red, and his forehead wrinkled. “Forget I said anything. The fitness center’s a bad idea.”

“Maybe I could buy an exercise tape and get together with Beth to work out.”

“You already spend too much time with that religious fanatic!” He stomped across the room, jerked open the refrigerator door, and grabbed a carton of milk. Then he turned, marched over to the cupboard, and reached around her to retrieve a glass.

“I’m sorry you don’t approve of my new friend,” Linda said, her defenses rising further. “If you weren’t so unwilling to get together with Beth and her husband and weren’t too stubborn to attend church regularly, you might realize there are more important
things in life than painting twelve hours a day or hanging out with the guys at the pool hall when you aren’t working!” Linda’s hands shook, and she berated herself for losing her temper. This was no way to set a Christian example for Jim.

He slammed the glass down hard on the counter, and she was surprised it didn’t shatter. “Don’t start with me this morning, Linda. I’m not in the mood!”

She moved slowly toward him, praying they might be able to resolve this before he left for work and hoping their shouting hadn’t roused Jimmy. “Let’s not argue, Jim. I love you, and—”

“Then get off my back!”

A knot formed in Linda’s throat as her eyes flooded with tears. What had happened to their storybook romance? Had they both changed so much over the last few years that everything they said to each other turned into a disagreement?

She slunk back to the cupboard to put Jim’s sandwich in some plastic wrap as a feeling of despair weighed her down. As soon as she got Jimmy off to school, she planned to give Rev. Deming a call. She’d put it off long enough.