Threads of Grace (27 page)
Maggie grinned. She knew Abel from Meeting and had always been kind to him. “Sure, Abel, but it might take awhile.
Kumme
behind the counter to start.”
Abel did as he was told, leaving Grace to push Alice farther into the store. Alice seemed entranced. “Goodness mercy! I’ve never seen so many bolts of cloth in all my days, not even at the Walmart back home.”
Grace smiled. “There are other things too.”
In truth, the dry goods store was a veritable emporium of housewares: glasses, bowls, kettles, cast iron frying pans. A long bookshelf ran along one wall. Shelves were stacked with rugs, wooden toys, bedsheets, and premade
Amisch
clothing.
But Miriam’s prize focus was her fabric: hundreds of bolts of cloth that lined the remaining walls and towered high enough to require a sliding ladder to see some of the stock. In the middle of the floor stood a giant, spinning stand of rainbow-hued threads of all grades, for simple sewing, quilting, and embroidery.
“What are you looking for?” Maggie reached down to scratch her ankle.
“Well . . .” Grace hesitated. She would have preferred Miriam’s expertise; and then, as if reading her thoughts, Miriam Esh sidled her ample frame in through the back door.
“
Ach
, ladies, welcome. Maggie, run over to the house and stay with your
bruders
. And mind that the baby doesn’t choke. I gave
her a whey biscuit to try. And straighten your
kapp
, girl. What will the customers think?”
“Aw,
Mamm
.” The girl rolled her eyes but left to obey her mother.
Then Miriam turned to Grace and Alice.
“Still doing that new honeybee pattern? Variation on the Log Cabin, right?
Gut
thing the bishop’s real lenient when it comes to design and color. Heard one lady over in Shippensburg had to cover a patch of red she displayed in an Ocean Wave. Did it nice in appliqué too, heard tell. Bishop didn’t approve. Now, I’ve got a gabardine fabric in bright yellow, looks just like a bee’s behind. Third from the bottom on the left lower, I believe . . .”
The plump woman hopped with the lightness of a child onto the sliding ladder and rolled along, talking as she went.
“When does she stop?” Alice whispered.
“She doesn’t, but she’s always right. About the fabrics, anyway,” Grace muttered back.
“Now, how about appliquéing a black sateen for the stripes? Holds up real well over time, and might look prettier than a serge would. You’re Alice Miller, right? Nice cherries on the hat. Heard you were visiting for a spell. Quilt any yourself? Sometimes the
Englisch
do, but they don’t use the old patterns like we do—except Grace, she’s got colors written in her head. Honeybees. Still, it’ll be real nice for a nice-looking man, and Grace has sure got herself one of those. Real nice, if I dare say so. And, I guess, at my age and after seven children, I can say whatever I want.”
Grace watched while Miriam hopped down from the ladder and sent the silver shears slashing through the fabrics.
“Is there anything you want, Alice?” Grace asked during a brief lull.
“I’m too afraid to buy. She might talk my ear off,” Alice whispered. “But you’re never going to get Abel out of here. Look at the boy.”
Abel stood on tiptoes, only a fraction of his way through blue bolts. Grace wished Alice hadn’t set up the deal with him. He needed to finish what he started or he got very distraught, and he hadn’t had a full meltdown in weeks.
“Abel,” she said gently, “we have to go now. Mama has things to do at home.” For a moment she doubted if he had even heard her as he concentrated. His thin fingers hovered close to but not touching the myriad of blue colors.
She began to walk toward him slowly. Counting soothed him, and not being able to finish made him anxious and upset.
“Nee!”
he said, returning to his counting.
“Yes, come on. I’m going to make pink lemonade later. You know you love it.” She touched his arm and he began to wail and jump up and down.
“No,
Mamm
! No! No! No! I wanna finish, pleeeease!”
Grace’s heart began to thump, as it always did when he dissolved in public. “Maybe a
gut
spanking is in order?” Miriam suggested.
Abel collapsed to the floor in a ball and Grace turned on the shopkeeper. “No, Miriam Esh, a spanking cannot beat a neurological condition out of his head.”
Alice tried to soothe him. “Abel, I’ll give you the dollar. You did a good job!”
His wailing increased and he was rocking back and forth now.
“I wanna fiiiiiinish! Pleeease, Mama, pleeease!” He dissolved into shaking sobs. Grace dropped to the floor beside him, gathering him close in her arms. He allowed it, rocking against her, his sobs catching into hiccups. Her heart ached for her boy, and she felt like crying herself.
At last she helped him to his feet and he clung to her, hiding his face against her. “Alice, here’s my purse. Will you pay, please? I’ve got enough thread at home. Miriam, I’m sorry. I appreciate your help.”
She made her way with Abel out into the glaring sunshine and then up into the buggy. “I’m sorry,
Mamm
. . . I’m bad.”
She stroked his dark hair. “
Nee
, Abel, you’re a
gut
boy. I love you. But when you find yourself getting really upset, you have to try and choose to do something different instead of screaming. You can breathe deeply—”
“I can’t . . . I can’t remember,” he choked.
“You will someday, as you get older.” Grace tried to slow her own breathing.
Alice climbed into the buggy. “I got your fabric. Abel, are you—”
Abel squirmed restlessly. “No! Don’t talk to me!”
Grace flashed an apology to her friend through her eyes. Alice nodded, then Grace picked up the reins to head for home.
S
eth watched as the buggy pulled up to the house. He saw Abel scurry down and take off toward the woods with Pretty close behind. He got there in time to help Alice down; Grace was
already headed into the house. The screen door slapped closed behind her.
“Don’t ask,” Alice muttered.
“What?”
“I’ll go keep an eye on Abel,” Alice said.
And before he could ask any more questions, she disappeared and left him standing alone in the driveway.
G
race lay facedown across the bed, her shoulders shaking. Seth went and lay down next to her, putting an arm around her back.
“Sweetheart, what is it?”
She shook her head and mumbled, her words muffled by the bedspread. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Grace. Tell me. Please.”
She turned her head sideways, facing him as tears dripped across her nose. “It’s Abel. He . . . he lost control at Miriam Esh’s. Crying and screaming. It was awful. I felt so bad—for him and for me.” She dissolved into sobbing.
“Shhh. Hush, Grace. It’s all right. People don’t understand, they don’t have to. It’s enough that you know Abel. And inside, deep inside, he’s really not afraid.”
She stopped crying suddenly and met his eyes. “That’s my biggest worry—that he’s so scared.”
Seth felt increasing confidence in his words. “He’s not. Inside he’s majestic and peaceful and free.”
“
Ach
, I want to believe that. How can you be sure?” She swiped at her eyes and let her damp hand rest against his cheek.
He smiled. “Someone talked to me this morning about grace. That’s what Abel’s got inside of him, I think. Grace. It’s a gift from
Gott.
I believe
der Herr
made him the way he is—not Silas Beiler, and not some kind of defect or mistake.
Gott
made him and filled his soul with grace.”
“Thank you, Seth. No one has ever said that to me before.” She moved slowly and kissed him, a kiss of gratitude, but not passion. Then she straightened up and tugged at her
kapp
. “I need to get my face washed and my baking done. It’s nearly eleven and Kate Zook’s coming at two.”
G
race, will you forgive an old woman for what happened today?” Alice said. “I shouldn’t have interfered.”
Grace went to her friend and embraced her. “Of course, Alice. I’m sorry, too, that I didn’t talk much on the way home—it drains me, you know?”
“I bet it does. Well, Abel’s out on the porch with Pretty. He wants some pink lemonade, and that sounds mighty good to me too. Maybe with a shot of something else.”
“Alice!” Grace laughed.
“I’m kidding. Well, maybe only half kidding.”
Grace served the lemonade and left Alice and Abel drinking on the porch. She slipped around to the kitchen garden to get a few things for that afternoon’s quilting time with Kate.
Like a little garden imp, her mother-in-law poked her head up from in between the pea pods to smile at her. The entire family shared the kitchen garden, but this was the first time Grace had met Mary picking.
“Mary, I made some pink lemonade. Would you like some?”
“
Nee
, thank you, dear. I’m getting some things together for a salad to take over to the Masts. Poor Emily’s down with a bad cold, but she definitely didn’t catch it swimming.”
They both laughed, and Grace lifted a wicker basket from the ground and let herself into the garden gate.
“Well, I’ve got Kate Zook coming to quilt. You’d be welcome to join us, Mary, when you get back.”
“I’ll tell you the truth about two things: first, that girl sets my teeth on edge, and second, I wish you’d call me
Mamm
instead of Mary. Oh, I know I probably don’t feel anything like your mother, but over the coming years, I’d like to try to fill that spot more and more.”
Grace smiled at her. “I’d be honored to do that. You’re a lovely mother.”
“I can return that compliment easily. Abel is a unique pleasure.”
“
Ach
, you haven’t seen him in action. He had a fit at Miriam Esh’s that she’ll probably tell everyone within a ten-mile radius about.”
Mary Wyse laughed. “So what? I have to confess that Jacob and Seth found more ways to get into trouble than any pair I’ve
ever seen in all my days. If it wasn’t one neighbor complaining, it was another. One summer Seth reached through the Kings’ backyard picket fence and plucked every one of their prize-winning red tulips, roots and all. He brought them home to me as a proud present, and the Kings lost the blue ribbon at the fair that year for the first time in ages.”
Grace laughed. She could picture a young Seth trying to please his mother. Maybe that was why he understood Abel so well, because he’d gotten himself in trouble a time or two.
“I’ve got to head out,” Mary said. “You have a
gut
day with whatever mission you’re on with Kate Zook.”
“Oh, I will. And thank you . . .
Mamm
.” Grace tested the word softly, and Mary rewarded her with a bright smile.
Once alone, Grace quickly surveyed the garden’s abundance, trying to decide what she might whip up in a hurry. The zucchini ran riot and the tomatoes were nearly ready to fall, they were so red. She switched her baking plans to lean more toward a tea and hastily began to gather things in her basket. She’d have a light, chilled zucchini soup, tomatoes in sugar, and cucumber and onion sandwiches. And she’d make some jelly drop cookies for dessert.
Satisfied with her menu and her gatherings, she headed back to the house, praying softly to herself that the afternoon might be a success.
S
eth and Jacob were mending a fence in the heat of the summer afternoon. They moved along slowly, checking wire and wood with care, a few feet from each other.
“Tell me why we’re working on a Saturday again?” Seth asked.
“Because this needs doing. I’ve seen that new colt testing the fence, and besides, Lilly went visiting with her mother.”
“Yeah, well, Grace has got Kate Zook coming over to quilt.” Seth knocked his hammer experimentally against a post.
“Kate Zook? Why on earth?”
Seth knew that Kate had made trouble for Jacob and Lilly in the early days of their marriage, and there was no love lost on the girl or her scheming mother. “I don’t know half the reasons women do what they do. I think Grace sees something good in Kate.”
Jacob grinned. “Well then, she’s got better eyesight than most.”
K
ate Zook arrived promptly at two, with a faint sneer on her face and a sarcastic twist to her words as she said, “Thank you for inviting me.” Still, Grace was hopeful that extending kindness to the girl would help.
“Where’s your
Englisch
friend?” Kate asked.
“She’s with Abel. She thought it would be good to give us time to talk.”
“Lovely,” Kate said, although her tone indicated that time alone with Grace was anything but.
They sat down at the quilting frame. “I appreciate your help,” Grace said. “And I’ve made us a real nice tea for later.”
Kate shrugged, selecting her needle. Grace watched her for
a moment as she began to stitch. “Why, Kate, you’re an excellent quilter!”