The Wedding Quilt Bride

He didn’t miss the fact that there was very little left in the bag when she was done, and it troubled him. But when she looked up at him with the smile he remembered, it chased other thoughts away.

“I’ll go to the mill first thing tomorrow, and then I can start work in the afternoon.” He glanced at Lige. “You’ll bring my helper back, ain’t so?”

The boy’s smile rewarded him. “Can I, Mammi?” He tugged on her apron.

“Yah, as long as you listen to Daniel and do just as he says.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Sehr gut,” Daniel said. “Tomorrow then.” Shouldering his tool bag, he headed out.

Rebecca and her son followed him to the porch and stood there, watching him go. As he cut across the field toward home, he took a quick look back and again was assailed by that sense of something he didn’t understand. The two of them looked oddly lonely, standing there on the porch of that decrepit house.

Rebecca was home, but he sensed she had brought some troubles with her. As for him...well, he didn’t have answers. He just had a lot of questions.

* * *

Supper in Leah’s kitchen was a lively time, with the long table surrounded by cheerful faces—Leah, Sam, their children, her mamm and daad, and now her and Lige. Lige, sitting next to her, had been engrossed in looking from one to another during the meal, his small face gradually relaxing as he realized all the chatter was normal and accepted.

It had been normal when she was growing up, as well. It never would have occurred to any of her siblings that their contributions wouldn’t be welcome. But life with James, especially after his accident, had been another story entirely.

At least Lige was beginning to lose the tension that told her so clearly he was waiting for an explosion. He actually laughed at something one of his cousins said, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

With the last crumb of apple crisp consumed and the silent prayer at the end of the meal said, the boys began getting up from the table to do their chores. Sam, who’d been saying something to Daad, glanced up as they headed out the door.

“Joshua.” He raised his voice to call his eldest back.

And Lige cringed, wincing back in his chair, his face strained and fearful.

No one moved. Rebecca could hear their indrawn breaths, could see the comprehension dawning on the faces of the adults. Rebecca bent over Lige, speaking softly.

“Hush now. It’s all right. Onkel Sam just wants to tell Joshua something.”

Leah seemed to get a grip on herself first. “Yah, he wants to tell Joshua to take Lige out with him and let him help. Ain’t so, Sam?”

“For sure,” Sam said.

Kindhearted Joshua came and squatted down by Lige’s seat. “Want to komm help me feed the buggy horses? You can measure the oats, yah?” He spoke softly, holding out his hand to Lige.

Lige looked up at her, as if asking for guidance.

“You’ll like that,” she said, flashing a glance of thanks to her nephew. “Go along with Joshua and the other boys now.”

Lige slid off his chair, probably glad to get out of the kitchen. He took Joshua’s hand, and they went off together.

At a look from Leah, Sam and Daad went out, too.

“You girls make a start on the dishes now,” she said. “I want to show your aunt Rebecca some of my quilts.”

“Yah, you go on,” Mamm added. “I’ll look after things here.”

Mamm was obviously trying hard to erase the shock from her face. Maybe she needed time as much as Rebecca did just now.

Leah ushered Rebecca into the sewing room and opened a trunk to reveal the quilts inside. “You don’t have to look at these now,” she said. “I just thought you might want a reason to be by yourself for a minute.”

“Denke,” she murmured, feeling the blood mounting to her cheeks. “It must wonder you why...”

Leah touched her hand. “You don’t need to explain anything. But when you do want to talk, I’m here and ready to listen.” Leah put her arms around her for a quick, strong embrace. “I’m your sister now, ain’t so?” she murmured.

It was a struggle to hold back tears. Maybe it would be a relief to talk, but not now, not when the emotions were still raw, even after months.

“I’ll check on the girls,” Leah said, seeming to understand. “You take as long as you want.” She slipped out quickly.

Alone, Rebecca slid down on the floor next to the trunk, her hand resting on the Sunshine and Shadows quilt that lay on top. Sunshine and Shadows, she repeated silently. There had been mostly shadows for so long. She longed to believe the sunshine was coming back to their lives.

As for talking about it...how could she tell anyone? Mamm and Daadi hadn’t wanted her to marry James so quickly, to go so far away with someone they barely knew. But she’d been captivated by James’s charm and his lively, daring personality.

She didn’t know then about the quick temper that seemed to be a part of him. It had flared rarely in the first years of their marriage, and each time it did, she’d made excuses for him.

And then had come the accident. James’s daring had led him a little too far, determined to climb to the top of the windmill to repair it, unwilling to wait for someone to come help him. And annoyed with her when she tried to stop him.

So she’d stood, watching, wondering what made him so eager to take risks. Then... Her memory winced away from the image of him falling, falling...

Everyone, even the doctors, said he was fortunate to be alive. That his injuries would heal, and he’d be himself again.

But he wasn’t. After the injury to his head, James seemed to lose all control. His rages were terrifying. If she dared try to calm him, he’d turn on her. Lige had become a little mouse, always afraid, trying so hard not to do anything to bring on the anger. And she hadn’t been much better.

Until the day he’d almost struck Lige with his fist. Then she had found the courage to fight back. When his family seemed unable to help, she’d dared to go to the bishop.

Bishop Paul had been everything that was kind. He’d insisted that James go for treatment, making all the arrangements himself. For a time, the treatment helped. The rages became a thing of the past, and it had seemed a blessing to be able to hope again.

Then it had all fallen apart. James had lost his temper with a half-trained horse, determined to force it to obey. The animal had reared, striking out, and in a moment, James was gone.

Rebecca pressed her fingers to her eyes, willing the images away. James was gone, but the damage he’d done lived on after him, it seemed.

No. She forced herself to stand, to wipe the tears from her face. That was the past. It was over and done with. She and Lige had a new start here, and they would make the best of it. But she would never again make the mistake of trusting a man with their lives.

Chapter Two

When Daniel turned into the lane and drew the horse to a halt at the back door of Rebecca’s new house, the troubling thoughts about her returned in full force. Onkel Zeb, sitting next to him on the wagon seat, started to get down and then looked at him.

“Was ist letz? Is something wrong?”

“No, no.” He secured the lines and scolded himself for daydreaming. “It’s nothing. I can unload myself, if you have something else to do.” He’d appreciated the company on the trip to the hardware store and lumberyard for the materials he’d need for Rebecca’s job, but he didn’t want to keep his uncle working all day.

Onkel Zeb, as lean and tough as he always was, hopped down nimbly. “Nothing as interesting as this,” he said, heading for the back of the wagon. “I want to see what you and Rebecca are going to do to this place. Mason Evans let it go those last few years, that’s certain sure.”

“He didn’t seem to have much energy for it after his wife passed, did he? But we’ll get it fixed up fine.” He slid a couple of two-by-fours off the wagon and balanced them on his shoulder. “If you’ll get the door, I’ll take the bigger pieces in. Rebecca said she’d leave it unlocked for us.”

Nodding, Zeb stepped up to the porch and swung the door open. “I was hoping Rebecca would be here when we got back. I haven’t seen her yet. How is she looking?”

Daniel moved past him to start a stack of the lumber inside while he considered how to answer that question. “All right, I guess,” he muttered.

His uncle propped the door open before turning to give him a probing look. “Seems to me you’re not so sure about that, ain’t so?”

He should have known there was no getting away with evasions where Onkel Zeb was concerned. He’d been like a father to all three boys, especially after their mother left and their own daad just seemed to fall apart at the loss.

Don’t go down that road, he told himself. This is about Rebecca, not you.

“Truth to tell, I’m not sure.” He pulled another couple of posts out and hesitated. “She’s so thin and pale I almost didn’t know her. It’s not so long since her husband died, so I guess that’s natural, but...”

“But what?” Onkel Zeb leaned against the buggy, ready to listen as always.

Daniel frowned absently at the boards. “Seemed like her whole personality has changed from what she was. She was all tense and keyed up, and the boy... He seemed almost scared.”

“Of you?”

Daniel shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe of everything. Just didn’t seem right.” He eyed his uncle thoughtfully. “You and Josiah Fisher are pretty close. He say anything to you about Rebecca?”

Onkel Zeb hesitated so long Daniel thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally he spoke. “Josiah and Ida have been worried about Rebecca for a while now, her being so far away that they couldn’t help as much as they wanted when she had all this trouble.”

That wasn’t really an answer, and they both knew it. “So why did they start worrying to begin with?”

“What do you remember about when Rebecca got married?” Onkel Zeb answered the question with a question.

Daniel cast his mind back. “I remember she went away that summer—out to Ohio to help a cousin of hers who was moving. She stayed quite a time, and then we heard she’d met someone and was going to marry him.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Funny. We’d always been such gut friends, but she didn’t write to me about him at all.”

“That was the summer you were chasing after Betty Ann Stoltzfus,” Onkel Zeb put in. “Maybe you were too busy to pay much attention to what Rebecca was up to.”

Daniel had a moment’s gratitude for the fact that he’d broken it off with Betty Ann when he did. They wouldn’t have suited anyway, and it was not long afterward that his little brother, Aaron, took off for the Englisch world, tearing up his heart.

Onkel Zeb made a sound that expressed his general disapproval of Betty Ann. “Anyway, Josiah and Ida didn’t want her to get married so quick, especially to someone they hardly knew, who lived so far away. But she was determined, so they accepted the best they could.”

“Rebecca being the only daughter, I guess it’s natural they’d want her to stay close.” He picked up another armload of planks. It had begun to sound as if Onkel Zeb was doing a good bit of talking around the subject, maybe not wanting to repeat anything Josiah said about his daughter in confidence.

“Yah.” Zeb slid out some of the smaller pieces and a box of nails and followed him to the house. “Natural, like you say. They always thought maybe you and Rebecca would make a match of it, as close as you were.”

That startled him. He’d never imagined anyone could be thinking that. “We were friends, that’s all,” he said quickly. “Neither of us ever thought of anything else.”

There was a skeptical expression on Onkel Zeb’s lean, lined face, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned back toward the door. “I’ll bring the rest of the small stuff in.”

He’d need the sawhorses and his tools, but for a moment, Daniel stood where he was, processing that idea. All he could think now was that it had been fortunate he and Rebecca hadn’t been more than friends. He wouldn’t have wanted to let her down.

It wouldn’t have to be that way. The small voice of hope spoke in his head, but he squashed it. Maybe it didn’t have to be, but it was. After all, it had happened before. When Mamm left...

He’d been the closest to their mother of the three boys. So close he’d always thought he even knew what she was thinking. But he hadn’t. She must have been unhappy for a long time to run away to the Englisch world and leave them behind. And he’d never seen it. If he had, he might have made a difference.

Logic might say that a ten-year-old couldn’t influence what a grown woman did, but somehow Daniel didn’t believe in logic when he thought about running upstairs to Mammi’s bedroom to tell her about the good grade he’d got on his spelling test, only to discover that the room was empty of everything that belonged to her. Everything except the letter that lay on the pillow, addressed to Daad. Nothing for him, her favorite.

There had been times when he’d nearly run off to try to find her. And worse times when he didn’t know whether it was worth it to go on living. Daad, shattered himself, hadn’t been any help. They’d never have got through it without Onkel Zeb.

And then, just when Daniel had begun thinking that losing Mamm that way hadn’t tainted him forever, Aaron had left. Little Aaron, the baby brother he’d always looked after, taken care of, defended. He’d told himself taking care of Aaron was his job—maybe he’d even taken pride in how close they were.

But he’d failed Aaron, too. He hadn’t known that the forces of rebellion were growing so fiercely in Aaron that he’d pack up and leave. Like Mammi, except that Aaron hadn’t even left a note.

Daniel had understood then. He couldn’t be trusted not to fail the people he loved. So he certain sure couldn’t take the risk of letting a wife and children depend on him.

Onkel Zeb clattered back in with another armload. “You want to help me with the sawhorses?”

“Yah, sorry. I’ll get them.” Daniel shook off his mood. No sense reliving the past. This was now, and there was work to be done.

But when they pulled the last few things off the wagon, it was Onkel Zeb who paused, his thoughts clearly far away.

“You know something more about Rebecca,” Daniel said, knowing it was so. He waited. Was he going to hear what it was?

“I can’t tell you all of it,” his uncle said, continuing the conversation that was on both their minds. “Parts I don’t know, and parts Josiah most likely wouldn’t want repeated.” His solemn gaze met Daniel’s. “But I do know that Rebecca has seen more trouble than most folks twice her age. And right now, what she needs most is a friend.” He paused, and Daniel thought for a moment that he was praying. “You can be that friend she needs, Daniel. If you will.”

“Yah, for sure.” He didn’t need to know any details to promise that, but his heart was chilled, nonetheless. “I’ve always been Rebecca’s friend, and I always will be.”

* * *

By the next day, Rebecca had begun to feel that, aside from a few bumps in the road, Lige was doing better each day. And if he was, that meant she could be happier, as well. She and Leah were doing the breakfast dishes together after the younger children had left for school, and Leah’s sunny kitchen seemed to hold the echo of the kinder’s chatter and laughter.

“Come September, your Lige will be joining the other scholars on their way to school,” Leah commented. “He’ll like it, I’m sure. Teacher Esther is wonderful gut with the kinder.”

“It’s hard to believe my little one is that old. I’ll miss him.” Rebecca’s smile was tinged with a little regret. In a normal Amish family, Lige would have been joined by a couple of younger siblings by now.

“You won’t miss him as much as you think.” Leah’s tone was practical. “By then, your quilt shop will be thriving, and you’ll have plenty to keep you busy.”

“I hope so.” Rebecca breathed a silent prayer.

“I was thinking about the shop,” Leah said. “How would it be if I asked some of the other women to bring in quilts on consignment? I know several fine quilters who would like a regular store to sell their goods, instead of relying on mud sales and the like.”

Rebecca blinked. It seemed Leah was thinking ahead even more than she had. “That’s a grand idea, for sure. I’d love it. Do you really think they would? I’ve been away so long that they probably feel they hardly know me by now.”

“Ach, that doesn’t make a bit of difference. Folks remember you. You’d be doing a gut thing for them. And then there are some women like Martha Miller. She doesn’t get around much now, but she’d love to do more sewing for folks. You could get her some work by letting customers know that she does hand quilting.”

“Yah, I could.” Excitement began to bubble. “I could have a bulletin board, maybe, where I could post things like that for customers to see. Denke, Leah. You...” Her throat tightened. “I’m sehr glad Sam had enough sense to marry you. I couldn’t ask for a better sister.”

Leah clasped Rebecca’s hand with her soapy one. “Ach, it’s nothing. We’re wonderful glad you’ve come home.”

The back screen door closed softly, and Rebecca turned to smile at her son. It had to be Lige, because any of the others would have let the door bang.

“Mammi, can’t we go yet? Daniel is counting on me to help.”

“In a few minutes, Lige. I’ll be out as soon as I’m ready.”

He looked disappointed, but he didn’t argue. Sometimes she almost wished he would. Instead, he slipped quietly out again.

A silence fell between her and Leah, making her wonder if Leah was thinking the same thing.

“That Daniel,” Leah said. “The kinder are all crazy about him. It’s a shame he doesn’t have a passel of little ones of his own by this time.”

“I’ve thought that, too,” Rebecca admitted. “I kept expecting to hear he’d been married, but it didn’t happen.”

“No.” Leah shook her head. “I hope he wasn’t listening to that foolish talk that went around after Caleb’s first wife left him. Folks saying that history was repeating itself, and that the King men couldn’t find happiness in marriage.”

“That’s not just foolish, it’s downright wrong. Just because of their mother, and then Caleb’s wife...” Rebecca was too indignant to find the right words. “Anyway, with Caleb happily married now, surely that shows they were wrong.”

“Yah, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Leah dumped the dishwater and dried her hands. “But it’s hard to know what Daniel is thinking sometimes. He took it awful hard when Aaron jumped the fence.”

“He would,” Rebecca said, her heart aching for Daniel’s little brother, out there in the Englisch world somewhere. “Daniel always felt responsible for Aaron, especially after their mother left. He...”

Whatever she might have said was lost in the noise as a large truck came down the lane. Leah craned her neck to see out the window.

“It’s the moving truck,” she exclaimed. “Your things are here!”

Together they hurried outside, and Rebecca felt her heart beat a little faster. Her belongings—the furniture she’d wanted to bring, Lige’s toys, her collection of quilts—they were finally here. Now she could start to feel at home.

When they reached the rear of the truck, the driver was opening the door and letting down the ramp. Almost before he’d finished, the rest of the family had arrived—her mother and father from the grossdaadi house, Sam and the older boys from the barn and the eldest girl from the chicken coop. She even spotted Daniel hastening down the lane toward them.

Mamm put her arm around Rebecca’s waist. “Now you’ll start to feel settled, ain’t so? You’re really home.” Her eyes clouded over with tears, making Rebecca wonder how much Mamm had been worrying about her.

“I’ll need to sort things...” she began, and Daad interrupted before she could head into the van.

“All you have to do is say where each thing goes as we bring it off. Someone will carry it there.” Daad’s voice didn’t allow an argument.

But still she felt vaguely guilty, drawing them all away from the things they’d been doing.

“Furniture in our basement for now,” Leah said. “It’s all cleaned and ready. Just pick out what you want in the grossdaadi house. You won’t want anything to go in your new place yet, ain’t so?”

Rebecca shook her head. “It would just be in Daniel’s way.”

“That’s right,” Daniel said, tapping Lige’s straw hat. “We men need to have room to work, ain’t so, Lige?”

Her son nodded, his smile chasing any tension from his face.

The next few minutes were a scramble, as things started coming out of the van so fast that it was all she could do to keep up. Lige showed a tendency to want to open boxes to see what was inside, until Daniel showed him how they were marked.

Sam marshaled his young ones into a line. He picked up each item in turn, checked with Rebecca what she wanted done with it and then gave it to one of the kinder to hurry off with. Daniel came out balancing several large boxes and headed for her.

“My quilts!” Her heart seemed to lurch with excitement. There they were, all packed up, the things that would allow her to support herself and her son.

Daniel’s grin said he understood, at least a little, what this meant to her. “Should we toss these in the chicken coop?” he said, teasing her the way he’d teased the girl she used to be.

“Into my sewing room,” Leah said firmly. “I don’t need the space just now, and they’ll be handy for you there.”

Joshua, Leah’s eldest, seized the boxes from Daniel. “I’ve got it, Mammi.” He strode toward the back door, Lige scurrying ahead to hold the door open for him.

They’d left Rebecca nothing to do but watch as the van emptied and Leah produced coffee and crullers for the driver. “I hate to put everyone to so much trouble,” Rebecca murmured. “I shouldn’t...”

“Ach, don’t be foolish.” Daniel gave her a friendly nudge. “Look at them. See how happy they are? It would be wrong to take away their joy in doing something for you.”

All of her arguments about standing on her own feet and taking care of herself and her son seemed useless against Daniel’s perceptive comment. She glanced at him. He was right, and his smile said he knew it.

Maybe she should argue, but she was too happy just now to care.

Chapter Three

Rebecca walked into the shop the next morning to hear the sound of a saw. Obviously, Daniel was already at work, and that gave a boost to her already-optimistic frame of mind. She hadn’t realized how much it would mean to have her own belongings here with her and Lige.

Maybe every mother had these strong instincts to create a nest for her family. With their own things surrounding them, she and Lige could feel at home. And how much better it would be when this place was finished. She looked around the kitchen, seeing it not as it was, but as it would be, with the gas appliances, the pie cabinet she’d inherited from her grandmother, her dishes on the shelves and pots of herbs growing on the windowsills.

But there was work to be done, and dreaming wouldn’t get it accomplished. Rebecca headed into the front room.

Daniel looked up from the sawhorses with a warm smile. “You’re here, but where is my helper?”

“He’ll be along in a minute. He’s been begging to be allowed to bring the mail from the box, so I said he could today.” She could see him now through the front window, skirting along the edge of the road toward the box.

“Lige will be fine,” Daniel said, apparently reading her thoughts. “He’s growing a little every day. Like you did at that age.” He grinned. “That was when you started wearing your braids pinned up under your kapp, remember?”

“I remember thinking it was a gut idea, because then you and the other boys couldn’t pull my braids,” she said with mock tartness. “You were a bunch of little monsters at that age.”

“Were not,” he said quickly, just as he would have all those years ago. Then he turned back to his work, measuring a board he’d laid out. “Funny thing,” he said.