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Authors: Wanda E. Brunstetter

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BOOK: The Quilter's Daughter
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“Jimmy, I want you to go inside the house and tell Mommy
I’ll be ready for lunch in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Jimmy hesitated a moment, then pointed to the quilt. “Can I have that, Daddy?”

“No! And don’t mention it to your mother. Is that clear?”

Jimmy blinked, and for a moment Jim thought the boy was going to give in to his tears.

Jim held the quilt at his side as he squatted in front of his son. “This is just an old rag. It’s nothing you’d want to play with. Understand?”

Jimmy nodded soberly, then turned toward the door leading to the house. His shoulders were slumped, and he hung his head as though he’d lost one of his favorite toys. Jim felt like a heel, but he couldn’t let Jimmy have the quilt. “I’ll be in soon,” he called to his son’s retreating form.

As soon as Jimmy was out of sight, Jim made a beeline for his work van. He snapped the back door open and stuffed the quilt inside, burying it under a canvas tarp. When he returned to work after lunch, he would ditch the incriminating piece of evidence.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Jim mumbled. But even as the words tumbled out of his mouth, he wondered if he would ever be free of his deception. Jimmy wasn’t legally theirs, and no matter how hard he tried, Jim would never forget the day he had kidnapped the boy.

A
bby stretched her tired neck and shoulder muscles as she sank onto the wooden stool behind the counter where she waited on customers. For the past week she’d been working at the quilt shop alone. Lena had gone to the doctor, and her pregnancy had been confirmed. Since her morning sickness was not any better, Harold insisted she quit helping Abby at the store. He had asked his mother-in-law, Esther, to help Lena with some of the chores at home, saying that he wanted his wife to rest as much as possible. Abby had talked with Rachel about the possibility of her coming to work in the quilt shop, but her friend had just gotten word that her application at the Farmstead restaurant had been accepted. None of the women who regularly made quilts to be sold at the store seemed interested in working full time, and Abby wondered if she would ever find someone to take Lena’s place. Soon it would be summer, and then even more tourists would flock to Holmes County, which meant her shop would often be full of people.

The bell above the front door jingled, and Abby glanced up to see who had come in. It was Lester, carrying a paper sack and wearing his usual cheerful smile.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to go out to eat today, so I brought you some lunch.” He placed the sack on the counter and smiled.

Abby was happy she was betrothed to such a considerate man. “Danki. That was thoughtful.” She reached for the sack. “What’d you bring?”

“Got us an order of fried chicken, coleslaw, and some hot
potato salad from the Farmstead restaurant. Saw your friend Rachel waiting tables.”

“She started working there a couple days ago.” Abby peeked inside the sack, and the pleasing aroma of warm chicken caused her to lick her lips. “
Umm
. . .it sure smells good.”

“Want to eat here, or would ya rather go out to the picnic table in back of your store?” Lester asked.

“I guess we’d better stay put, in case a customer comes in.”

“Jah, okay.” Lester pulled another stool over to the counter, sat down beside Abby, and took her hand. They bowed for silent prayer; then he reached into the sack and withdrew their lunch.

Abby unfolded the napkins and placed the plastic silverware beside their paper plates, while Lester poured cups of iced tea from the thermos he’d brought along. They ate in companionable silence, until Lester wiped his mouth and announced, “My mamm’s comin’ by later on.”

“Does she need some quilting material?”

He shrugged and gave Abby a quick wink.

“You’re up to something. What is it?”

“I ain’t up to nothin’.”

Abby was sure Lester was teasing and would tell her if it was anything important, so she didn’t press the issue.

A short time later, as they were clearing away the remains of their lunch, the front door opened and Deborah Mast walked in.
“Wie geht’s,”
she said with a cheery wave.

“Good day to you,” Abby replied. “What can I help you with?”

Deborah smiled and stepped up to the counter, casting a quick glance in her son’s direction. “Lester tells me you’re in need of a helper here.”

Abby nodded. “Lena had to quit because she’s got the morning sickness real bad. She and my mamm seem to be going through the same struggles right now.”

Lester cleared his throat. “Uh—guess I’d best be gettin’ back to work.” He gave Abby’s arm a gentle squeeze. “See you later.”

“Have a good day,” she said.

“And don’t work too hard,” Lester’s mamm called to him.

When Deborah’s son waved and disappeared out the door, she stepped up to Abby. “I was pleased to hear that your mamm’s in a family way. She must be real
hallich
.”

“Jah, she’s happy as a springtime robin, and so is the rest of the family.”

“I guess Lena must be excited about her pregnancy, too, since she and Harold have no kinner yet.” Deborah leaned on the counter. “Speaking of Lena. . . Since you haven’t found a replacement for her, I was wondering if you’d want to hire me to take her place.”

Abby’s lips curved into a smile. “I know you often come by to help the ladies work on a quilt once a week, but I didn’t think to ask if you’d consider coming to work here.”

“I would be happy to, if you think I’d be useful.”

“Of course, you’re a wonderful quilter.”

Deborah grunted. “That doesn’t mean I’ve got a head for business.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. You’re friendly and outgoing, and that’s what matters most when it comes to waiting on customers.”

“Since I’ve been widowed these last two years and all my kinner but Lester are out on their own, I’ve got time on my hands.” Deborah smiled. “How soon would you like me to start work?”

“How about right now?”

“That sounds good to me.” Lester’s mother made a sweeping gesture. “Where do you want me to begin?”

Abraham wiped the sweat from his forehead using a damp rag he’d left hanging on the pump behind the house. He and the boys had worked hard in the fields all morning, and he was more than ready for their noon meal.

“Sure hope Nancy and Fannie have lunch on the table,” Jake commented. “I’m hungry enough to eat an old mule.”

“Jah, me, too,” Matthew agreed.

Abraham stood off to one side, watching two of his sons as they took turns washing up. Norman had gone to his own place for lunch, saying he wanted to spend a few minutes with his wife.
Abraham knew about that “in love” feeling; he’d been blessed with it twice. Even now, after being with Fannie four years, he felt like a lovesick schoolboy whenever she smiled at him in a certain way or said something to make him feel special.

“Hey, watch what you’re doin’, Jake!” Matthew’s usual calm voice rose a notch, driving Abraham’s musings to the back of his mind.

Jake grunted. “I’m washin’ up; what do you expect?”

“I expect you to keep the soap and water on yourself, not on me.”

Abraham shook his head. It was hard to believe Matthew was almost twenty-six years old and Jake had recently turned twenty, since they both were acting like a couple of schoolboys. “You two had better knock it off, or I’ll make you eat in the barn.”

Matthew grunted. “That’d be a good place for Jake, since he already smells like one of the sweaty horses.”

Jake wrinkled his nose and slapped the wet rag against Matthew’s arm. “You don’t smell like no rose garden yourself. No wonder ya can’t find a wife.”

Matthew’s ears turned crimson, but he made no reply.

“I think the real reason you’re not married is ’cause you’re scared,” Jake taunted.

Matthew flicked some water in his brother’s direction. “Let’s drop the subject, okay?”

“I agree.” Abraham nodded toward the house. “We’d best not keep the women waitin’. I’m sure they have lunch on the table by now.”

“First one to the house gets two helpings of dessert!” Jake hollered as he took off on a run.

Matthew shook his head. “I wonder if he’ll ever grow up.”

Abraham thumped his eldest son on the back. “Why don’t you try to set him a better example?”


Humph
! A lot of good that would do.”

Abraham wondered if something was eating at Matthew, but he figured in time his boy would come to grips with whatever it was, so he said nothing as he strode toward the house.

Fannie placed a platter of ham on the table and yawned. She’d been unable to go to the quilt shop this morning because of her queasy stomach, and even though her nausea had subsided some, she felt too tired to do much of anything. All she really wanted to do was get the men fed, then collapse on the sofa awhile.

“Want me to ring the dinner bell again?” Nancy asked as she headed to the refrigerator to fetch a jar of pickles.

“I think I hear our menfolk comin’ now,” Fannie replied.

Sure enough, the
thump, thump
of men’s boots could be heard on the back steps. A few seconds later, Abraham, Matthew, and Jake entered the room.

Fannie nodded at the table. “Everything’s ready, so take a chair and eat yourselves full.”

Abraham gave her a peck on the cheek and then pulled out his chair at the head of the table. Once everyone was seated, he bowed his head for silent prayer, and the others did the same.

Fannie folded her hands in her lap, and when the prayer was over, she stared at the food set before her. There were thick slices of the ham she had carved earlier, a heaping bowl of macaroni salad, deviled eggs, tangy pickled beets, dilled pickles, and a basket of fresh homemade bread for sandwiches. None of it appealed, but for the sake of the baby she carried, she knew she must eat.

“You okay, Fannie?” Abraham asked with a look of concern.

She forced a smile and nodded. “Fine and dandy.”

“You look awfully
mied
. Are you still feelin’ sick to your stomach?”

“Just in the mornings now, but you’re right, I am a bit tired.”

Abraham glanced over at Nancy, who sat beside Fannie. “After lunch, I want you to clear away the dishes and clean up the kitchen while my wife takes a nap.”

Nancy nodded. “Okay, Papa.”

“I take it you’re not goin’ to the quilt shop this afternoon,” Matthew said around a mouthful of macaroni salad.

“Guess I’d better not,” Fannie replied.

“I’m thinkin’ we might need to close down the shop or find someone else to run it for a time,” Abraham said.

Fannie sighed. It would be a shame to close the quilt shop. There were many women in the area who made quilts and sold them in her store. And what of the tourists who liked to shop there?

“Naomi’s not up to working at the store and minding the quilt shop, as well,” Abraham went on to say. “She’s got her hands full taking care of little Sarah, not to mention her being in a family way again. Once her boppli’s born, she won’t be able to work at the store for a while, either.”

“If you didn’t need me in the fields, I’d be happy to work at the store while Naomi takes over Fannie’s quilt shop,” Matthew said.

Jake spoke up for the first time since they’d begun the meal. “Yeah, right. I can see my big brother tradin’ in his plow for a broom and sittin’ behind a cash register all day instead of workin’ the mules out in the fields.”

BOOK: The Quilter's Daughter
12.81Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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