The Christmas Quilt: Quilts of Love Series (21 page)

23

A
dam stood with his hands in his pockets, frowning at Dr. Kamal. “But we agreed that today the boys would come home. I’ve waited all day, and Belinda—she brought the van. Everything is ready.”

Dr. Kamal nodded in agreement. “Yes, I see why you are upset. However, babies, they do not always follow the plans we lay out for them. Isn’t this true?”

Adam glanced around the crowded room. Leah, Annie, Belinda, and Dr. Kamal all stared back at him. No one seemed to know what to say. They’d been waiting all day long for Dr. Kamal to return. Now darkness was covering the city, and Adam had hoped they would be on their way.

The boys had been in the room, but a man close to Adam’s age, Foster was the name written on his name tag, had taken the boys out after they’d fallen asleep. Adam couldn’t believe how they’d grown in less than a week. He couldn’t believe they needed to spend another night in Philadelphia.

Dr. Kamal studied his shoes a moment longer; when he finally did speak, he held his hands out in front of him. They were large hands—Adam thought they looked like a farmer’s hands. Dark black on the outside, pink on his palms, they were hands that had helped bring his sons into this world.

Because of that, Adam pushed down his impatience and listened.

“In my country, especially in the villages, these babies would be home already. Here in America we are more careful. Are we too careful?” He shrugged. “We’ve found there are four things that are important to see before a baby goes home, especially the small ones like Amos and Ben.”

Adam liked that the doctor remembered his sons’ names. He seemed to be a kind man, and no doubt he was doing what he thought was best.

“First of all, they need to breathe without the use of oxygen.”

“Amos has not needed the oxygen since Thursday,” Leah pointed out.

Adam recognized the strain in her voice, and he moved closer to her bed. He’d vowed to be there for her emotionally. Reaching out, he placed his hand through the raised bar of the bed, covered her hand, and squeezed.

“It’s true. Neither boy has needed respiratory support.” Kamal ticked off one finger. “We also watch their heart rates and breathing patterns. The twins were nearly thirty-six weeks and had no problem with either of these things.”

He ticked another finger, looked up, and winked at Annie.

“The third thing we need to see is if they take all their feedings by mouth.”

“How else—” Adam glanced over at Belinda.

“Some babies need a feeding tube,” she answered. “We couldn’t do that in your home.”

“Amos and Ben are doing well. They lost a little weight at first, which is normal, and have begun to gain again. I’m very happy to see this.” The smile on Dr. Kamal’s face was genuine and did much to ease the knot in Adam’s stomach. Releasing the boys to go home would have done a lot more.

“Our problem is in the fourth area—maintaining a stable temperature. Amos has managed to do this. It is Ben whose temperature dipped a small amount in the wee hours this morning. It was not much and not for long, but I like to see an acceptable, stable temperature for twenty-four hours before I release an infant to go home—”

Adam began to interrupt him, but the good doctor pushed on.

“And I’m aware while Amish homes are comfortably heated for adults with your wood stoves, it might not provide the level of warmth a premature infant with temperature instability would need.”

Adam was shocked. “You know how we heat our homes?”

Dr. Kamal shrugged. “It’s my job to know about my patients, Adam. Also, we are in Philadelphia, not New Guinea. You’re not my first Amish parent.”

Adam stared down at the floor, thinking and praying. When he looked up, he asked, “If we weren’t Amish, would you send him home?”

“No! Not until twenty-four hours have passed. Maybe tomorrow. With the promise that you will find a way to maintain a steady temperature in the babes’ room of—”

“
Ya
. Annie already told us. The bishop has approved the use of a generator and it’s all in place. We have the extra heaters, if need be. I assure you, the workmanship on my house is
gut
. I’ll put it up beside your fancy city dwelling any day.”

Dr. Kamal nodded as if he expected as much. “Then we will hope for tomorrow, and I will make my rounds early.”

Belinda and Annie had gone to sleep at the boarding house. Adam was moving things around so that he could sleep in the chair which stretched out into a bed, when Leah began giggling.

“What do you find funny,
fraa
?”

“You won’t fit in that chair as easily as Annie did.”

“I won’t?”

“
Nein.
Your legs will hang off the end, and you’re going to have to sleep on your side to fit at all.” Then her voice grew wistful. “I wish you could sleep here with me.”

Adam glanced around the room, shrugged, and began to drag the chair over next to her bed.

“You’re going to rearrange their furniture?”

“Why not? I’ve missed you, Leah.”

“And I’ve missed you.”

“At least we can sleep side by side.” He finished positioning the chair, then noticed Annie’s quilt draped across the arm. “Are you two still working on this?”

“
Ya.
It’s taken a little longer than we thought it would.”

Adam held it out in front of him. They’d only left one light on in the room as they’d prepared for bed, but he could make out the pattern. Leah and Annie had always been good quilters, but he didn’t see anything particularly hard about this design, certainly nothing that should have caused them trouble.

“I guess you didn’t have as much free time as you thought you would.”

“Oh we had a lot of time, but we kept stopping to tell stories.”

“Stories?” Adam unfolded the sheet the nurse had given him to cover up with. “What kind of stories?”

Leah reached for the quilt. “A story for each child. It started when I first came here, before I apologized to you about my behavior—”

“No need to speak of that again. We’re past those days. Forgotten and forgiven.”

“
Ya
, but I mention it because Annie had been reading the Bible, and she read Galatians five, verse twenty-two.”

“I should remember what that is. I know Paul wrote it.”

As Adam stretched out on the chair and deep night settled around them, Leah told him the stories from the quilt and how they matched up with the fruits of the Spirit.

“All we have left is the boy she finished yesterday and the heart, here in the middle at the bottom. She decided to add it to make the quilt different. To make it special.”

“So you’ve done seven of the nine fruits. The two you have left would be—”

“Gentleness”—Leah’s voice was a whisper—“and self-control.”

“The final two fruits of the Spirit.”

“
Ya
.”

Adam had never been one to read stories very much—Annie did that. He read
The Budget
, and occasionally he’d read a mechanics magazine he saw at the library. He read the Bible, more now than ever before, though he couldn’t say he understood everything he read. Maybe with each year that passed, he would understand more.

Curling up on the chair in the hospital room, staring into his wife’s beautiful eyes, he searched his heart, and he found the story she needed to hear. It was a story about a man, who had been a boy. He had spent nearly three weeks alone while his wife and unborn children had been at the hospital. During that time he had learned a lot about himself, about self-control, and about love and the importance of treating one another with gentleness. He touched the heart on the quilt when he came to that part.

He wasn’t sure his story was very good, but his wife had tears in her eyes and a smile on her lips, so he supposed it was good enough. They fell asleep holding hands, and they were awakened two hours later by the sound of two crying, hungry little boys. Adam was groggy, and he felt like someone had rubbed dirt in his eyes. Something told him that before the year was out he’d be used to their new routine—and besides, all things passed.

Leah walked through her home slowly, touching each item as if she’d never seen it before. She remembered the day they’d married, the first night she’d spent there with Adam. Even those memories couldn’t compare to this evening.

“The bassinets are in our room—one on each side of the bed.” Adam joined her in the sitting room, looking quite pleased with himself. “And I’d say this house is toasty warm.”

“
Ya
. Dr. Kamal should come visit and see for himself.” Leah couldn’t believe that just the night before they’d been worried they wouldn’t get to come home. Twenty-four hours could change so much. “Do you think we should have let Annie stay?”

“
Nein
. We can handle the
bopplin
. I’ll help you, Leah. And if I know my
mamm
, she’ll be here in the morning.”

“It was
gut
of her to leave the food.”

“They’ll all bring food. You won’t need to worry about cooking until the boys are sleeping at least six hours straight.”

Leah sat on their couch, then ran her hand over the arm. How long since she had sat on a couch? It had been hospital beds and hospital chairs for weeks. Then she closed her eyes and listened.

“Sleeping?” Adam’s voice was very close to her ear.

Goosebumps popped out down her neck and along her arms as he sat down next to her.

“I was listening.”

“
Ya
?”

“Listening to the silence. It’s beautiful.”

“I like it.”

“Mercy was a
gut
place, but it always had sounds. This is better.”

“It’s better now that you’re here—you and Amos and Ben.”

The wind rattled the window, but the house remained snug and warm.

“Do you know what I think we should do, Leah?” Adam’s voice teased her ear again.

She shook her head. When she looked into his eyes, she saw the old Adam, with the mischievous grin.

“Help ourselves to the plate of oatmeal raisin cookies
mamm
left, with some cold milk.”

“It’s so late—”

“All the better. Before the boys wake up. Makes me hungry getting up so often during the night.”

“You’ve done it once!”

“Exactly. I know what it’s like, so I’m fortifying myself.” He made his way to the kitchen. She listened to him pull out glasses from the cabinet, open the refrigerator, pour milk, and bring everything into the living room.

She was home.

The word resounded through her heart.

And it was as sweet as the fresh-baked cookie Adam offered.

24

A
nnie sat in her sewing room on Christmas Eve, grateful she had a few free hours to put the binding around Leah’s quilt. How had the weeks slipped away? It seemed yesterday they were walking down the streets of town, looking in the windows, and planning for Thanksgiving.

That holiday had come and gone and now another was upon them. Life would slip by like leaves in the wind if she wasn’t careful. Her mother had warned her. “Don’t blink, Annie. Don’t get caught up in worrying over the little things. You’ll miss the daily blessings
Gotte
has in store for you.”

The baby kicked, as if agreeing with her mother’s words of wisdom. Would she ever take anything for granted again? After being away from her home for so long? After being through such a time with Leah?

And yet it had been a blessing. She’d known it the moment Adam had walked into the hospital room. The second his eyes had landed on his wife. Her brother had changed in those weeks. Much as Leah had matured in Philadelphia, Adam had learned to cherish and adore what mattered the most in his life—a young woman and two precious children.

“You’re concentrating awfully hard in here.”

Annie turned in her chair. Samuel was leaning against the doorframe, watching her. He stood with his arms crossed, and she could see his hands were clean so he must have been inside for a while. She’d never heard him come in from the barn!

“I suppose I am,” she admitted.

“Anything you’d like to share?”

Annie sighed and continued stitching the binding to the quilting. It lay nicely, attaching the back of the quilt against the front. It provided an edge around the rows of Dutch children, safely tucking them together, binding them together.

“I told you about our stories? The ones we told while we waited through the days and nights? The ones that went with the children?”

“
Ya
. The stories matched the fruits of the spirit. That was a
gut
idea. It helped you both to focus on the blessings
Gotte
had in store rather than worry.” Samuel walked into the room and sat down across from her. “Smart thinking, Annie.”

Shaking her head, Annie continued stitching the last row of binding, finishing what she had started so long ago, what she had intended to complete before Amos and Ben were born. “It wasn’t my idea though. It was Leah’s. Maybe
Gotte
whispered the idea to her.
Ya
?”

“Maybe so.” Samuel’s voice was quiet and gentle, as it usually was.

“Do you think stories can serve a purpose?”

Samuel took his time answering. He waited until she had finished the last of the row, tied off her thread, and clipped it. “I believe anything can serve
Gotte’s
purpose. We know as much from the Word—whether it be an unwilling prophet, or a donkey, a whale, loaves and fishes . . .”

“A quilt,” Annie whispered. “Or an infant.”

“Indeed.”

The babe within her moved again, poking an elbow or foot out. Annie reached for Samuel’s hand, placed it over her stomach. “I believe she has your feet!”

Instead of laughing, he took the quilt from her hands, placed it on the table, and then pulled her into his lap.

“I’m too big.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. I’ve gained three pounds this month.”

“And I’m glad.”

Annie laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, burrowing into his embrace.

“I missed you.” When the tears began to fall, she didn’t try to explain them, didn’t attempt to stop them, but rather allowed herself a moment of complete openness.

Instead of questioning her, Samuel unpinned her
kapp
, placed it beside the quilt and ran his fingers through her hair, loosening the curls. It seemed to Annie, as he brushed out her braid with his fingers, he also brushed away the last of the tension—the final fragments of worry she’d held inside. For a moment, she could rest and allow Samuel to care for her.

She must have fallen asleep, because she woke later in her bed, the smell of dinner coming up the stairs.

It was a simple meal. She’d started the stew earlier in the day, and Samuel had baked cornbread to go with it. Not fancy at all, but that dinner did more to heal her heart than a feast could have. Though they’d been back for two weeks, the evening healed the bruised places from her time away. A part of her mind realized she was exhausted and she’d be better very soon. Another part kept turning over the idea this was their last Christmas Eve alone. Next year it would be three at their table, and God willing, perhaps more in coming years.

For this evening, with the candlelight in the window, her husband sitting across from her, and Leah’s finished quilt upstairs, ready to give, Annie knew the peace of Christmas.

Leah sat in her living room, uncomfortable that she wasn’t helping clean up the dishes from their holiday meal—the meal they shared on Second Christmas, the day after the official Christmas celebration. Yesterday she and Adam had spent alone, reading the Scripture and enjoying the holiness of the day with their boys. Today was a day for family and for the giving of gifts.

Then Ben began fussing and Jacob quickly handed him over. “I believe he wants you,
mamm
. Maybe it’s time to eat?”

“
Nein.
Rocking him will settle him down. His
dat
has spoiled him already.”

“Guilty,” Adam agreed from the checkerboard, where he was apparently losing to Zeke.

“He’ll be free to rock the baby in a minute, Leah. He’s about to be beaten again.”

Leah didn’t hear what Adam said in reply, but Zeke’s laughter was all she needed. It did her heart a good turn to see genuine smiles on the faces of Rachel’s boys. And was
Onkel
Eli the one to thank for that? She couldn’t be sure, but it would seem, from the attentiveness he paid to Rachel, possibly an announcement would be coming soon. Theirs wouldn’t be the first wedding plans to occur in this family around Christmas.

“Such a small one,” Jacob was saying. “I believe I’ve caught bigger fish.”

“
Dat
—” Charity’s voice rose in warning, but Leah quickly reassured them both.

“Adam says the same. Though both boys are now well over six pounds.”

“Six! It’s a miracle. That’s what it is.” Rebekah wiped her hands on a dish towel as she ushered Annie, Reba, and Rachel into the living room.

How they’d managed to bring the Christmas meal to Leah and Adam’s house, plus serve it there when they barely had enough dishes for the two of them, Leah didn’t know. But they’d done it, and she was grateful. She hadn’t wanted to take Amos and Ben out in the snow, even if it was only a dusting and there was little wind. Doctor Kamal, Samuel, and Annie had all thought indoors was best for the first month, though having family in the room was fine as long as no one was sick.

Leah looked around and realized that though she missed her parents, brothers, and sisters in Wisconsin, this was her family now, and they meant everything to her. They’d support her, Adam, and the boys through the months and years ahead.

Adam’s gaze met hers, a smile playing on his lips. He did that a lot lately. It was as if he was looking for chances to show how much he cared. It caught her off guard sometimes. It reminded her of when they were courting, and she found herself taking extra time when she combed her hair or dressed in the morning. Now she found herself resting during the day so that she could have the energy to stay up and talk with Adam in the evening. Those moments with her husband were precious, and she was determined to guard them.

“I believe it’s gift-giving time,” Jacob said, standing and using his cane for support.

He looked slowly around the room, his eyes lingering on each one. Their numbers had grown this year, not only because of the two additional babes, but Trent was also included. He’d agreed to the terms set by the bishop. The year ahead would be difficult, but they would all pray for him and encourage him. If he made it through the adjustment period of leaving behind the technological advances he’d need to give up, then he and Reba could marry the following October.

David was also there with Charity, which surprised no one. Perhaps the fall would include another double wedding—or even three if the things she’d heard about Rachel and Eli were true. From the way Rachel had softened, it seemed love could pass your way, even after you’d travelled quite a long distance down life’s road.

Jacob cleared his throat and continued. “Let us not forget, as we give these gifts of love, the reason we give. On this day, so many years ago,
Gotte
shared His grace with each of us in Christ Jesus. This is why we celebrate.”

Leah noticed a smile pass around the room between each person, like bread passed on a platter. Jacob never preached, but he always reminded. His was a kind and gentle guidance.

“We are especially thankful this day for the gift of Amos and Ben. Each of you are responsible for praying for these precious
kinner
, and also for helping raise them, for children need an entire family, not merely a
mamm
and
dat
. They need
onkels
and
aentis
and cousins as well.”

There was some laughter now as each person began whispering plans. Leah heard some of them, plans to teach her boys to fish or to ride a pony. She closed her eyes and heard their words, blessings upon her children, and they were better than any material gifts that might be given.

Jacob held up his hands. “We will add at least one other before we meet for this Christmas celebration again.”

Samuel stood behind Annie. He leaned forward and whispered something in her ear.

“Perhaps more.” Jacob’s expression turned serious as he looked first toward Trent, then David, and finally Rachel. It would seem he knew well what was going on within his family. “Remember, pray for one another. We accept and believe prayers are mighty and powerful things. They are indeed.”

Silence filled the room. Leah stared down into Ben’s face, perfectly formed, curly hair softly covering his head, and somber eyes that gazed at her with such trust. It was his brother, Amos, who broke the solemn moment with a rather loud burp.

“Excuse us,” Adam said with a laugh.

“You are excused.” Jacob grinned. “And now for the gifts.”

Like Leah’s own family, the giving was simple, for each person had drawn a name the year before. Her sons, though, received small items from everyone there, and she found her heart filling with such gratitude that tears threatened once more. When Annie slipped her gift on top of the pile, Leah handed her Amos, and reached for the quilt.

“You finished it!”

“
Ya
. Added the binding and label on Christmas Eve.”

“It’s beautiful, Annie.”

They both stared down at the five Dutch boys, three girls, and the single heart—the nine gifts of the Spirit. Realizing it was futile to try to put all she was feeling into words, she stood and embraced her best friend.

“I love you.”

“And I you. Now, I’ll go place this on the crib while you open Adam’s gift.”

Leah turned to her husband in surprise. They had no money for gift giving. She’d knitted him a scarf before she’d left for the hospital in Lewistown, but how had he . . .

“All those nights I was alone, I needed, that is to say, I wanted something to do.” Adam sat beside her. “This was a way to put all my missing you into something constructive.”

Leah accepted the large shopping bag and removed the tissue paper. Inside was a beautifully made flower box and three packages of seeds.

“We’ll put it outside—”

“The bedroom window. I asked you long ago.”

“And I said there was no time to make such frivolous things, or to stand and watch the birds and butterflies that would come to it.” Adam ran his thumb over the back of her hand and it seemed for a moment it was only the two of them in the middle of their living room even though it was full of people. “I’d like to ask your forgiveness for that now.”

“You don’t—”

“But I do. I was wrong about that, as well as a few other things. It only takes a few minutes to look out a window, Leah. To appreciate what
Gotte
has given. It’s important to do so, and I thank you for teaching me as much.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until he reached forward and brushed away her tears.

From somewhere across the room Ben let out a howl, followed by laughter from their guests.

“My son has healthy lungs,
ya
?”

“He does, Adam.”

Though the boys still had a little ways to go and would need to be watched closely for a few months, it was the best Christmas Leah ever had. When they’d cleaned up and everyone had left, she stood in the doorway, Adam’s arm around her waist, watching them drive away.

It was amazing she didn’t feel even a little lonely. She felt as if she’d been covered in love. As they walked back into their living room, into their cozy small house with their two infant sons, she understood they’d make it through the next six months and the years after as well. They’d probably need to depend on their friends and family at some point. They’d certainly need to depend on their faith, on their God. And they’d learned they could depend on each other.