The Christmas Quilt: Quilts of Love Series (13 page)

14

A
dam stood in Samuel’s barn, gripping the cell phone so tightly he feared he might break it. The phone on the other end, the phone in Leah’s hospital room, rang once, twice, and a third time. When he was sure no one would answer it, someone picked up the receiver. Then there was a shuffling sound as if one person were passing it to another.

Finally, his wife’s voice travelled over the line.

“Hello?”

“Leah? Oh, Leah. I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Did you call the wrong number?” she teased, and then he knew it was Leah and she was better, much better than she’d been in a long time.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I called the past. It sounds as if my
fraa
from a year ago is speaking with me.”

There was silence on the line, and he wondered if he’d said something wrong. He’d been in the habit of doing so. Perhaps he’d done it again.

“I rather feel like my old self again, Adam, except for my stomach. It’s still as big as ever.”

“
Gut.
” He closed his eyes, breathed a prayer of such gratitude his heart actually hurt, and sat back on the wooden crate outside Samuel’s horse stalls. “I called last night, but Annie answered. Tonight I hoped and prayed it would be you—”

His words fell away.

How could he explain the way each day had dragged on as he worked in the barn at their home, as he worked on the engines and with the animals? How could he describe how empty their house was without her there?

“I woke up this morning and thought I was still in Lewistown,” she admitted.

Adam switched the phone to his left hand and swiped at the sweat beading on his forehead. The memory of those final hours in Lewistown was enough to make him feel queasy again. “It was terrible, Leah. And I was no use to you at all. I passed out on the floor. Two orderlies had to use the smelling salts on me while the doctors and nurses were working on you.”

“Were you hurt?”

“
Nein.
But what kind of husband am I?” The doubts circling in his mind for four days rushed out. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t bother her with them, but this was his old Leah—the one he shared everything with. This was his friend. “I should have been on my feet helping.”

“I remember there was a lot of blood, Adam.” He heard a rustling sound as she adjusted the phone and said something to his sister. “
Ya
, and Annie just reminded me again, I needed a blood transfusion. Many people would have passed out seeing such a thing.”

“Maybe. I wish I could have been stronger.”

“He is our strength. Remember? You’re the one who found that verse for me, when I was first so miserable with the morning sickness.”

Some of the tightness in Adam’s chest eased. He had spent hours studying his Bible, searching the Word to ease Leah’s suffering. And she had remembered. Perhaps he wasn’t such a terrible husband after all. “The Lord God is my strength.”

“He will set my feet like the deer,” she whispered.

“He will let me walk upon the heights.” They finished the passage together.

There was a silence on the line, and this time it was as if they were in the same room. He could picture her there in the odd hospital gown, with her
kapp
fixed on her head. Annie would have seen to that. He could see her holding the phone, eyes closed, whispering the words with him.

“Now tell me about the engines. Did you finish the big one? The one that gave you so much trouble?”

So he did tell her. He talked about the ones he’d finished and the new ones that had come in. He didn’t worry at all about how many minutes they used. Samuel had assured him that it was all the same, the bill didn’t change according to time spent on the phone. His heart told him he and Leah needed these moments together. It reminded him of the times they used to spend the evening hours together sitting on the porch. When it was colder, they’d sit by the fire after the meal. He would read
The Budget
and she’d work on some piece of sewing.

Why had they ever stopped?

He couldn’t remember, but he vowed to himself when she returned home, he’d do better. When she returned with their
bopplin,
he would not allow the distance to creep into their marriage again.

“You’re quiet suddenly. What are you thinking about?” Leah asked.

“About how much I miss you. How glad I’ll be when you’re home and we’re together again, the way we were—the way we should be.” His voice had grown stronger. Somehow he had grown stronger during their talk. Leah did that for him. She made him the man he could be—the man he should be.

“I know. This hospital—it is
gut
, and I like my doctors very much. I’ll be glad to be home though. I miss the farm, and I miss you. Adam, I understand it’s a sin to worry, and I’m trying not to. I want to ask though—”

“Ask anything.”

“How will we pay for all of this?”

Adam stood and began pacing. He was grateful the phone was wireless so he wasn’t confined. “The auction is already scheduled. It’s to be next Saturday.”

“So soon?”

“It’s perfect, Leah. The area is always busy on Thanksgiving weekend, busy with tourists. I wish you could see . . .” he stopped and his throat tightened as he scanned the items in the barn. It was quite full already. “I wish you could see all that folks have brought. Samuel’s barn, there’s barely room for the horses, and there’s more items to come. The bishop says not to worry. The auction will raise plenty, and our medical fund already had a good balance.”

“I wish we didn’t have to—”

Adam stopped her. “It is difficult to accept help from others. I know, but this is our way. Samuel, your father, and Bishop Levi have met with me twice. To pray and to answer any questions about how this works. At first, I was hesitant as well. But think of all the times we have helped others. Also, it is biblical for all of the community to minister to our children—and to us—in our time of need.”

There was a long silence. He wondered if she was crying. He wished he could be there, to hold her in his arms. Phones were useful to a point, good for an emergency, but they would never replace being physically present for the one you love.

“You are right. I wish I could be there, and please . . . please thank them for me.”

“You can thank them yourself, when you come home with the
bopplin
.”

“The doctors say two more weeks and our children will be born.”

“And I will be there. Focus on being stronger, tell the babies I love them, and I will see all of you very soon.”

He was about to disconnect the small phone when Leah stopped him, and told him that the doctor knew the sexes of the babies. Did he want to know?

Did he?

“Do you, Leah?”

“It’s as if I know them already, carrying them inside me all this time. And it seems unnatural to find out beforehand from some fancy medical test. It doesn’t seem our way. Do I sound silly?”

“Not at all. Tell the doctor we will wait. Besides, Belinda has already told us what they are—I’ll take her word.”

His wife’s laughter followed him out of the barn and into the cold. He climbed the steps to Samuel’s house and updated him on Leah’s condition. Where previously he would have hurried home, he accepted the cup of
kaffi
. They discussed the plans for the following week, and they prayed together over his family. He’d always liked Samuel, but he’d never felt as close to the older man as he did in the last week. Not only did Samuel understand what he was going through, but he’d shown no resentment about Annie staying at Mercy Hospital with Leah. Adam understood what a sacrifice Samuel was making—how much he must miss her and even what extra work it was for him around their home. But Samuel never mentioned it. When Adam brought it up, he’d slapped him on the back and made a joke about how they both would lose weight if it weren’t for their sisters’ cooking they brought by regularly.

It was dark by the time Adam turned his buggy toward home, but he barely noticed it or the cold. Instead, he remembered the laughter in Leah’s voice. He was surrounded by it and the warmth of his family—all of his family.

As he turned down his lane, his thoughts returned to Leah’s question, about whether he wanted to know if the babies were girls or boys. Belinda had told them the last time she’d examined Leah, before that terrible night on the bathroom floor, that both were boys. At the time, he’d practically rolled his eyes. Since, he’d grown closer to their midwife—not just from travelling with her to Lewiston and then on the long drive to and from Philadelphia. He’d grown closer because they’d passed through the shadow of fear, if not death, together.

Somehow, if Belinda said the children were boys, then he believed her. She’d also winked and said she was right 75 percent of the time. Pretty good odds.

She would drive him to the hospital again, when the babies were scheduled to be born, or sooner if God willed it. He no longer dreaded the long ride. Belinda wouldn’t be able to assist in this birth, and it was not what he would have chosen, but he was slowly accepting that God had reasons for every turn their life took.

He prayed each night the doctors who were involved would treat his wife and children like the precious gifts they were. As for Belinda, he hoped they would need her help again, a few years down the road.

It was a marvel he could now think of the future. Just a few weeks ago the present had seemed so dark. But trouble had done that for him. It had given him a perspective on time. This would pass, and their life would resume its normal rhythm. Until it did, they would depend on their friends, family, and faith to see them through.

15

A
nnie shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. As she walked to Mercy Hospital on Sunday morning, it seemed to her as if God had prepared the way for what was happening. It seemed to her as if God had cleared a path.

Vickie, her landlady, had insisted on sending a paper sack of home-baked goodies for Leah. “It’s good to have you back, Annie. Take these to your sister. Tell her I made them from scratch. I know how you miss your family’s cooking.” Vickie had pulled her into a hug before sending her out into the cold November sunshine.

The city was exactly as she remembered—crowded, even on a Sunday, somewhat dirty, and already Christmas decorations shone brightly from the display windows. Instead of bothering her as they had before, these things affirmed she was here as a visitor. Soon they would be home.

She received the occasional stare because of her plain dress, but nothing rude. When she smiled back, a young child waved at her, and when one couple started to take a picture, a man stepped in front of them. Whether he did it intentionally to explain they preferred not to be photographed or whether it was an accident, Annie didn’t know or care. She stepped through the doors of Mercy and breathed out a sigh of relief.

Perhaps God had used her time of
rumspringa
as a preparation for this day. Perhaps He had known, even then, Leah would need this haven.

“Annie. Is it you?” The nurse who stopped in the middle of the lobby and stared at her had once been Annie’s best friend. She still sported short hair, though it had been colored a lovely brown in spots, and remained the blonde Annie was used to in others. She was still as slim as ever.

Annie walked straight into Jenny’s outstretched arms.

“What are you doing here? Apparently you’re not back to work.” Jenny’s eyes danced with mischief. Nothing had changed but her hair color.

“I’m here with my
schweschder
, actually my
bruder’s
wife. She’s having twins and had a partial placental abruption—”

“Is she okay?”

“Yes. Fine. She has Dr. Reese.”

“One of our best.” Jenny pulled her over to an alcove with chairs. “Who is her neonatal doc?”

“Dr. Kamal.”

Jenny’s smile grew even wider. “We had to fight to get him. A big hospital out West wanted him, but we won. He’s been here a year and everyone thinks he walks on water, which I’m beginning to think could be possible. The man has a heart bigger than those gigantic hands.”

“We like both doctors very much.”

Jenny sat back and studied her. “You’re practically glowing, Annie. Let’s see. Your last letter told me about your pregnancy, but I didn’t realize you were already showing.”

Annie placed her hands across the front of her dress. “Barely.”

“I can tell.”

“Nurses always can.”

“So you’re staying here in Philly?”

“Yes. Until Leah’s babies are born. We’re aiming for two more weeks.”

“Give me her room number.” After she’d written it down, Jenny added, “And where are you rooming?”

“Same place. Vickie had an opening.
Gotte’s wille, ya
?”

Jenny cocked her head. “It would seem so. Same as us running into each other, though you would have found me. Right?”

“I would have.”

“
Gut
,” Jenny pronounced it with Annie’s accent. “Now I don’t want to be late for my shift. You know how Shelly is. She would love to see you, by the way. Can you stop by later?”

“I’ll try.”

“Excellent! I’m off on Tuesday. Would you like to have dinner together then?”

“Yes.”

Jenny pulled her into one more hug, and Annie was again wrapped in the feeling that God was going before her, preparing the way.

When she reached Leah’s room, the bed was empty. Though she knew she was in the right place, she backtracked into the hall and checked the number on the door.

“She’s three doors down,” Penny said as she passed her in the hall. “Mrs. Grant’s room.”

She nodded toward the end of the hall.

Annie gave her a questioning look, but Penny shrugged and offered no explanation. When she reached the room, she tapped lightly on the door. The scene before her shouldn’t have surprised her. It wasn’t as if Leah had ever been one to sit still. When Annie had first come home, when she’d returned from Mercy to care for her dad, she’d found Leah helping at her home. It was in her nature to care for others.

She was sitting beside an older black woman. Annie would put the woman’s age close to forty. She was also near her due date from the size of her abdomen. Leah had her Bible open on her lap and was reading from Galatians, chapter five.

“
Gudemariye
, Annie.”

“And to you, Leah.” Annie shifted her package from Vickie, which thankfully had enough for three, and her coat and scarf to her left arm. “Having church without me?”

“Actually we are. Mrs. Grant—”

“Alice.”

“Alice was saying how she wished she could attend the service downstairs.”

“They won’t let us. Say it’s not safe for our babies. Back home I’d be scrubbing floors and cooking, though not today, of course. Today I’d be singing and praising.” The woman’s arms came up as she spoke, and she shook one hand as if she were holding a tambourine.

“I thought we might share some Scripture together, the three of us.”

“
Gut
idea, and then I have some treats from Vickie.” Annie rattled the bag. “Now, what have I missed from Paul’s letter?”

So they read through the fifth chapter and into the sixth. They also prayed together. Between them, six children would be ushered into the world in the next few months. Alice was pregnant with triplets and had three to four more weeks of bed rest. Their faith was different in some ways. Alice was a Baptist, and she had spoken several times about missing the praise music in her church with its tambourine, drums, and piano. During Amish services, the only music was their voices. Regardless, the cornerstone of their beliefs was the same—the birth, death and resurrection of Christ.

By the time they walked down the corridor back to Leah’s room, it was plain she was tired, but the visit had obviously been good for her.

“It helps to hear someone else’s problems,” she admitted.

“And to have another person to pray for.”

“
Ya.
Imagine three small babies to take home and care for. Plus she has no community to hold an auction, to pay for her bills.”

“She has health insurance,” Annie pointed out.

“We spoke of that a little. She had heard that Amish don’t believe in purchasing insurance, and I explained to her how we depend on each other rather than on a corporation to provide our needs. Her insurance will pay for the bulk of her bill, but she will still have to pay a huge out-of-pocket amount. That’s an appropriate term, Annie, because the sum will empty their pockets.”

“Yet, we can believe and are assured that
Gotte
, possibly through their church, will provide for them.”

Leah stared out the window. “Our lives are so different, but in many ways, what we deal with is the same.”

“It’s true. I often thought the same thing while I worked here.”

Leah rested for the next hour, even dozed a little.

Penny came in and checked on her IV, which would probably be removed the next day, but didn’t wake her.

Soon it was time for lunch. After she had eaten and circled the hall again, Annie could see that Leah was growing restless. They read more Scripture, visited with some other mothers, and talked of what their families were doing. But it was the Sabbath, so they didn’t work on the quilt.

They waited until the next day, until Monday.

As soon as Annie arrived, Leah was ready for her.

“I’ll work on the small squares, the nine patches, while you appliqué.”

“Are you sure?”

“Annie . . .” She made the word long, said it in a singsong way like Reba would. “I’m sure. I need something to keep me occupied in this bed. If it’s a work of love as you’ve said, then you should love me enough to let me help.”

“
Ya
, all right. You’ve convinced me.”

Annie handed her nine small squares, which she had cut out on Saturday evening—teal, rose, yellow, ivory, pink, lavender, purple, blue, and green. The colors they had chosen together. Leah accepted the needle and thread eagerly.

“You’re working on a boy square today?”

“Yes. This pattern always reminds me of Adam.” Annie stared down at the pieces in her lap, shaking her head at the memory of Adam in the Lewistown hospital. He’d been so lost. He had reminded her so much of Overall Sam—both with his clothes and with his innocence.

“Annie, I was thinking last night, after you left, about the verses we read from Galatians.”

“The same ones you were sharing with Alice.”

“
Ya.
I had an idea.”

“
Ya?
”

“Remember when Paul talks about how we should be guided by
Gotte’s
spirit?” Leah placed the blocks of fabric on the side of her bed. She arranged them in a different order than Annie would have, but they made a nice pattern. She had a good eye for such things.

“Sure, Galatians five, verses twenty-two—”

“And twenty-three. I looked them up again after you left.” Leah glanced up, her face all seriousness now. “Paul says if we belong to
Gotte
, and if we are guided by His spirit, then we will produce
fruit of the Spirit.”

“Love, joy, peace . . .” Annie spread her fingers out on the fabric and ticked off the nine fruits. “Patience, kindness, and goodness.”

“
Ya.
Along with faithfulness,
gentleness, and self-control. I was thinking that those things, those fruits were missing from my heart the last few months.” When Annie tried to interrupt, Leah held up her hand to stop her. “They’re back. I feel full and overflowing with them now, but maybe part of the reason I’m here is to focus on the fruit Christ wants me to bear, along with these children.”

A slow shiver started up Annie’s spine. All things worked to the glory of God. She knew and believed this, but what Leah was saying suddenly felt so right, so obvious, she was certain her revelation was from the Lord.

“Okay, Leah. We’ll both focus on it then. What did you have in mind?” She was thinking additional Bible study and more praying. There would be plenty of time to do much of that over the next few weeks, few months actually. But Leah’s next words caused them both to grin like schoolgirls.

“The fruits, there are nine, yes?”

“You learned your numbers well,” Annie teased.

“And traditionally there are twelve Dutch children on this quilt, but we’ve changed it to nine—nine children in this nine-patch crib quilt.”

The tingling continued as Annie caught on to Leah’s idea.

“The story you told Saturday, it was about the first gift, Annie. It was about a child who was saved by love.”

Annie didn’t speak now. She didn’t dare.

“Today perhaps you could tell me a story about joy, as you sew the boy, the boy that reminds you of Adam.”

Their eyes met, and Annie knew she couldn’t refuse Leah, shouldn’t refuse her. She didn’t fully understand how a story could implant God’s word on their hearts, but she was suddenly sure that their hours of waiting would be more than sitting and filling time. And the quilt? The quilt would
hold a far greater significance than she had ever imagined.

She was halfway done with the Overall Sam—blue pants, green shirt, black hat, and black shoes, before she knew the story Leah needed to hear. It was, to be sure, a story centered around joy.