Threads of Grace (15 page)
“Sure,” his dad went on. “You’ve got to help. The family is the center—remember that.”
“I know,” Seth said. “But she doesn’t let me near her.”
His father was quiet for a moment, then spoke thoughtfully. “Grace is a woman with a past. I can feel it in my bones. She has lived a hard life and yet has a beautiful spirit.”
“Danki, Daed,”
Seth said.
They soon made the turn into Lockport and drove to a corral just outside of town. There an
Englischer
had a spirited palomino mare. In an obviously misguided attempt to calm her down, he struck the mare forcefully with his quirt. She reared against the lead, thrashing to get away from the whip.
Before Seth could stop him, Abel jumped off the back of the wagon, slipped under the fence, and ran toward the horse and the man. All Seth could see was slashing hooves and the lashing whip, and sheer terror gripped his heart as he dashed after the boy.
Then everything stopped. Abel’s hand was on the mare, and she was standing quietly under his touch. In one simple second, everything was calm and right.
Seth felt his heart pounding in his ears as he stared at Abel. The dumbstruck
Englischer
dropped the whip. Seth felt his father’s steadying touch on his shoulder.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” the
Englisch
man said. He stared at the boy and the horse. “That kid ought to go on one of them animal whisperer TV shows they got.”
Seth looked at Abel, and the boy smiled as he ran his hands along the horse’s flanks. “You don’t hit,” Abel said.
“
Nee
, that’s right,
sohn
,” Seth said.
The
Englisch
man came over with an extended hand. “Maybe the kid’s got something. I sure didn’t know how to calm her down.”
Seth and his father shook hands with the man quietly. They made a deal for the mare, not giving in to the man’s exorbitant fee, but bargaining until a fair price was reached.
Samuel glanced at the sky as they finished. “What do you boys say to some lunch? That apple strudel was good, but I’m still hungry.”
The
Englisch
man declined but agreed to keep the mare in the corral until they were done in town. Seth got in the buggy and stared straight ahead. “You ever see anything like that before,
Daed
?” he whispered.
His father lifted the reins. “Nope. Not ever. That boy’s something special.”
I
’ve decided I’m going to do a honeybee quilt,” Grace told Mary Wyse. “Browns and yellows and rich and warm colors, as if for a man.”
“Perhaps a certain man?”
“Well, maybe. Seth likes art and creative things, but I guess you know that.”
Mary nodded fondly. “
Jah
, it’s been our family’s secret. Perhaps we should have told the bishop, but something in me would not break Seth’s spirit when he found such joy in the painting. As a child he spent money that he had worked for on art supplies—walked all the way into Lockport to buy a watercolor set and some paper. He kept the drawings under his bed, but finally I found them one day. When I confronted him, he started to cry. I knew I could not take it away from him. Jacob, too, has been fierce in protecting him with his art.”
Grace hesitated. Mary’s words shamed her. She had not exactly been protective of her husband’s art.
“So, shall we start this quilt?” Mary asked.
“Well,” Grace said, “I always pray before I begin any quilt. Would you pray with me?”
“Of course.” Mary stretched her hand across the fabric pieces.
Grace loved the feel of Mary’s skin—weathered from work, but strong and warm. Grace began to pray out loud quietly.
“Dear
Gott
, thank You for this talent, this chance to serve You in making a quilt. I pray for the design, that it would be of Your making and not of my own mind. I pray for time to finish. I pray for those it covers, that You would gently lead them closer to You, and that You would grant them grace through the threads of the quilt itself.”
“I didn’t understand before how you came up with such beautiful designs,” Mary said. “But now I know that
der Herr
has a hand in it.”
Grace ducked her head.
Mary laughed. “I know we’re taught that praise is vanity, but as a mother I cannot help myself.”
As a mother.
Grace cherished those words. Her own mother had been dead for almost six months now, and Grace hadn’t even known it until Violet brought her the news. How strange, to think of someone you love as alive, only to find out they had passed on. Raw grief welled up in her, and regret.
After Silas’s death she could have gone back. But she had been in such a hurry to flee the property, to get away to a place where Tobias couldn’t find her. And perhaps, just a little, she resented her parents’ decision in sending her to Silas in the first place.
Whatever the cause, she had left Middle Hollow without
contacting her family. Now it seemed like a foolish choice. But it was too late.
The drift of her thoughts disturbed her, and she chose instead to concentrate on putting the brown and yellow percale pieces together. She had in mind the pattern of a honeybee hive and the motion of flight, and she let the natural rhythm of stitching take over.
“So how is marriage?” Mary asked. “I don’t mean to be nosy. I just thought you might like to talk.”
Grace felt her mother-in-law’s kind eyes upon her across the expanse of the fabric. She carefully pulled a thread through before answering.
“It’s good,” she said.
“I hope that I have raised my
sohns
to cherish their wives.”
“Oh, I am cherished,” Grace said.
She longed to talk to this woman who was her mother-in-law. But how could she explain that she didn’t even feel married to Seth? It certainly wasn’t something a mother would want to hear.
S
amuel Wyse drove the buggy through Lockport, and Seth’s eyes strayed to the passing storefronts. Emily’s Mystery—Seth knew from his brother’s experience that it was a place with pretty underthings for a wife, the kind that would please a man. Seth dragged his eyes away from the store. He hadn’t done more than kiss his wife on the forehead, and thinking about kissing was not something he wanted to do while he was with his father.
They drove up to Pinky’s Restaurant and tied up at the hitching post. Pinky’s was a hole-in-the-wall place that served both
Amisch
and
Englisch
. It was filled with neon lights and an old jukebox that was playing “The Candy Man.” They found a booth, and Seth watched Abel as the boy stared at the lights, utterly fascinated.
Pinky greeted them himself, a tall
Englisch
man with a pencil-thin moustache. His place sold the best burgers and fries around, and he knew it. He greeted Samuel and Seth with a smile.
“Heard you got married,” Pinky said.
“Yep,” Seth agreed. “This is my boy, Abel.”
Abel barely nodded in greeting as he stared at the flashing Christmas lights draped along the wall. They soon dug into the fries and the juicy burgers; it was not usual Amish fare but was delicious nonetheless.
“Seth, can I go look around at the lights?” Abel asked when he had finished most of his burger.
“
Jah
, go ahead,” Seth said. He was glad to get a little uninterrupted time with his dad. When Abel had wandered off, Seth drained the last of his milk shake and turned to his father. “So, tell me more about women.”
Samuel smiled. “Seth, I’d say to be respectful of the promise you made at your wedding and you’ll be fine.”
But Seth couldn’t remember the promise, no matter how hard he wracked his brain and tried to relive the wedding ceremony. At last Pinky put him out of his misery with another round of milk shakes and some more local gossip.
Abel returned to the table. He studied the last French fry on Seth’s thick plate.
“You want the last bite?” Seth asked, tilting his plate. He was surprised when Abel looked at him with shock.
“No, it’s a baby French fry. Please can you wrap it up and I take it home to Mama?”
Seth saw that the boy was completely serious.
“All riiiight.” Seth started to fold the fry in a napkin and Abel shook his head.
“
Nee
, wrap it like a baby, Seth, please.”
Seth cast one eye at his impassive father and proceeded to swaddle the fry, leaving only the tip sticking out. “Like that?”
“Yep.” Abel took the fry as gently as he would have a baby, cradling it in his hand.
“Danki.”
Soon they were riding back home, with the new mare walking calmly behind on a lead.
“You gonna tell Grace about the little horse incident?” Samuel asked.
“Should I?”
Samuel laughed. “Not if you want to take that boy into town again.”
“You’re right,
Daed
,” Seth said. “Some things are better left a mystery.”
He glanced back at Abel cradling the French fry and suspected his words were truer than he could possibly imagine.
A
lice breathed a sigh of relief as the blue van finally roared to a blaring stop in front of the big white farmhouse. She tried to express her thanks to Tommy but couldn’t manage to shout loud enough over his music. He was ready to pull away, so she clambered down, carrying the simple brown suitcase and her Pink Lady cosmetics bag.
Grace came off the porch with slow steps. And then the two women were embracing and laughing. Alice thrilled to the generous touch. Despite her friends’ best intentions, she hadn’t been truly hugged since Bud had gone.
“What happened to you?” Alice said, pointing to Grace’s cast.
Grace shrugged. “Broken ankle. I was working in the garden and the wall came down on me. I’ll be out of it in another week.”
“Honey, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m used to the cast. I get around just fine, don’t
even need the crutches.” She waved her friend’s concern away. “Alice, I’m so sorry about Bud.”
“Oh, thank you, Grace. I’ve been so lonely, and I thought some time with you might restore me a bit. Bud’s in heaven, and I’ll be free to join him soon enough with this tired old body.” Alice let her gaze wander to the third-story windows. “Now, I thought you were living in some small cabin or another. This is a fine house.”
“I got married,” Grace said.
Alice raised a finely made-up brow. “Married? I would have thought you’d never entertain such an idea again after . . .”
Grace nodded. “I know—it’s strange how God worked it out. But please come in. I’ll explain.”
“Wait.” Alice put a hand on her arm. “Will your new husband mind me being here?”
“Not a bit. My sister, Violet, is here too,” Grace said.
“Now, this is bright and cheery,” Alice said when Grace ushered her inside. “Not like that prison you lived in before. I remember Silas’s window blinds—the darkness of that place. Windows closed, blinds closed, curtains closed.”
“All the better to shroud his wife and son,” Grace muttered.
“Now, now,” Alice said. “I got you thinking of the past, Grace. Stop it. I want to see what this new man is like.”
At that moment a tall, handsome man walked in the door.
Grace smiled at him. “Seth, this is Alice Miller, my friend.”
“Hiya!” Seth took off his hat and made a little bow in Alice’s direction.
“Hi yourself,” Alice said. She arched an eyebrow in Grace’s direction.
Seth picked up her bag. “Front bedroom?” he asked Grace. “By the way, town went great—Abel was a treat. He’s outside playing.”
Grace nodded. Once he was gone, Alice said, “He’s hot, honey.”
“I guess.”
“You guess? I’d think you’d know, since you’re married to the man.”
Grace shrugged. “Abel has been sleeping with us since we got married.”
Alice stared at her. “So you’re telling me that you have been living in the house with that specimen of a man and you have been having Abel sleep between you?”
“And the dog,” Grace added.