The Wedding Quilt Bride

“The cabinets need some repair,” Daniel said, swinging a door open and closed. “But they’re good solid wood—none of those thin layers they use sometimes now.”

Rebecca was busy picturing the kitchen with the cabinets freshly painted white and seedlings growing in pots on the wide, sunny windowsills. “The gas range is perfect,” she said. “But I’ll have to replace the electric refrigerator with a gas one.”

“I don’t know much about the electrics, but there’s a man I worked with on a few Englisch houses who does that kind of work. He could take out all the electrics for you.”

“Wonderful gut.” Surely the fact that things were falling into place meant that her plans were in accord with the gut Lord’s will. “Our table will fit in this space, won’t it, Lige?”

He nodded but hadn’t yet let go of her skirt.

“When do your things arrive?” Daniel pulled himself out from behind the refrigerator, a cobweb clinging to his straw hat.

“In a few days.” Smiling, she reached up to lift the cobweb away, inadvertently brushing his cheek. She withdrew her hand quickly, trying to ignore the way it tingled from the brief contact. “The family will store everything for us until we can move in here.”

The back of the house held the kitchen, a pantry and two smaller rooms. One would be their living room and the other a storeroom or workroom. Swinging the door open, Rebecca stepped into the room at the front of the house. Her breath caught.

The room extended across the whole front of the house, and sunshine poured in through the windows to lie across the wide-plank floors. The back wall would be perfect for shelves, and she could have a display area of quilts on one side and stocks of fabrics and notions on the other.

“You look happy,” Daniel said, his brown eyes warm. “Is this going to be your living room?”

“No.” She swung in a slow circle, taking it all in. “This will be what I’ve been dreaming of. This will be my quilt shop.”

She knew her happiness had to be shining in her face. And when she looked at Daniel, she saw her anticipation reflected in his eyes, crinkling as they shared her feeling. There, at last, was her old friend.

* * *

Daniel stood still for a moment, transfixed by the sheer joy on Rebecca’s face. He couldn’t help but share it. Obviously, this quilt shop was important to her, but why? So far as he knew, she hadn’t had a shop in the past.

He didn’t doubt that she was a wonderful quilter. Rebecca’s sister-in-law, Leah, had shown off the baby quilts Rebecca had made and sent for each of her young ones. Rebecca’s mother had a gift for designing patterns, and she must have inherited it.

“Can you make this ready first?” She swung toward him, all eagerness. “I need to open the shop as soon as possible.”

Need? That was a funny way of putting it. He’d heard that Rebecca sold the farm she and her husband had owned in Ohio. He’d think that would have given her enough that she wouldn’t have to rush into business for herself.

Still, it might be that she felt she had to have something to occupy her mind and heart. Her husband had died less than six months ago, and grieving was hard—he knew that as well as anyone.

“I have plenty of time for your job,” he said. And if he didn’t, he’d make time to accommodate her, especially if it kept her looking the way she did now.

He couldn’t deny that he’d been shocked when he first saw her, so thin and pale, with an almost-haunted look darkening the blue of her eyes. Rebecca had always been as bright as a ray of sunshine with her golden hair, rosy cheeks and the sparkle in her clear blue eyes. He nearly hadn’t recognized his friend, and that had set a distance between them.

Already she was withdrawing into herself again, her face becoming strained. But at least now he’d seen the old Rebecca, if just for a moment.

“So, you’ll tell me what you want done in here, and I’ll do the measurements and work out a plan.” He glanced toward the front door that led directly into the room. “We’d best check out the front entrance as well, if your customers are going to come in that way.”

Rebecca nodded, looking around the room as if seeing it looking very different. “I’ll want tables to hold bolts of fabric on this side,” she said, gesturing. “And then some open space where I can have a bed to show how a quilt will look and a counter near the door for checking out.”

Daniel made notes on his pad that no one would ever understand but him. “What about the walls?”

“They’ll need to have several different-sized racks to hold quilts, crib quilts, wall hangings and table runners.” She unfolded a sheet of paper, and they both bent their heads over it. “See, here are the kinds and sizes I need and where I thought maybe they could go.”

She’d printed it all up for him with sketches. “So neat,” he said. “Just like your schoolwork used to be.” He glanced at the boy, standing quiet and solemn next to his mammi. Did he ever laugh? “When we were in school together, your mammi had the best printing of anyone in the school. Whenever a sign had to be made, we’d get her to do it.”

Lige nodded, as if he didn’t doubt it, but still he didn’t smile or speak. Well, he’d get a smile out of the boy even if he had to stand on his head to do it.

He turned to Rebecca. It wouldn’t be bad to get another smile from her, as well. “Do you want to make decisions about the rest of the house today, or just focus on the shop for now?”

“Just the shop today,” she said quickly. “It’s more important than getting moved in right away.”

“If I know your mamm and daad, they’d be happy to have you stay with them in the grossdaadi house for always, ain’t so?”

Her lips curved a bit, but her blue eyes were still dark and serious. “That’s what they say, but we shouldn’t impose on them.”

Now all he could do was stare at her shuttered face. “Impose? Since when is it imposing to have you home again? Your folks have been so happy since they knew you were coming that they’re acting ten years younger. Sam and Leah and their young ones have been marking the days off on a calendar because they’re so eager. You’re not imposing.”

Rebecca stiffened, seeming to put some distance between them. “It’s better that I stand on my own feet. I’m not a girl any longer.” She looked as if she might want to add that it wasn’t his business.

No, it wasn’t. And she certain sure wasn’t the girl he remembered. His Rebecca, so open and trusting, would never have doubted her welcome. Grief alone didn’t seem enough to account for the changes in her. Had there been some other problem, something he didn’t know about in her time away or in her marriage?

He’d best mind his tongue and keep his thoughts on business, he told himself. He was the last person to know anything about marriage, and that was the way he wanted it. Or if not wanted, he corrected himself honestly, at least the way it had to be.

“I guess we should get busy measuring for all these things, so I’ll know what I’m buying when I go to the mill.” Pulling out his steel measure, he focused on the boy. “Mind helping me by holding one end of this, Lige?”

The boy hesitated for a moment, studying him as if looking at the question from all angles. Then he nodded, taking a few steps toward Daniel, who couldn’t help feeling a little spurt of triumph.

Carefully, not wanting to spook Lige, Daniel held out an end of the tape. “If you’ll hold this end right here on the corner, I’ll measure the whole wall. Then we can see how many racks we’ll be able to put up.”

Rebecca, who had taken a step forward as if to interfere, stopped and nodded at her son. “That’s right. You can help with getting our shop ready.”

Daniel measured, checking a second time before writing the figures down in his notebook. His gaze slid toward Lige again. It wondered him how the boy came to be so quiet and solemn. He certain sure wasn’t like his mammi had been when she was young. Could be he was still having trouble adjusting to his daadi’s dying, he supposed.

“Okay, gut. Now, you let the end go, and I’ll show you how it pops back to me. Ready?” Lige put his end on the floor and took a cautious step away, as if not sure what to expect.

“Now.” Daniel pushed the button, and the steel measure came zooming back, rerolling itself. “There. Did you ever use one of these before?”

Lige shook his head and hurried over to Daniel without hesitation. “Can we do it some more?”

“Sure thing. Let’s measure how wide the window is, because we wouldn’t want a quilt to cover it, would we?”

Without being told, Lige pulled the end out so that they could measure the width of the windowsill. When they’d finished, Daniel held out the tape measure to the boy. “Do you want to roll it up this time?”

Lige came eagerly, his shyness of Daniel forgotten. Daniel put his large hand over the boy’s small one, showing him the button. “Now, push.”

Lige did, and the tape measure performed its vanishing trick again. He looked up at Daniel, and the sight Daniel had been looking for appeared. It was tentative and a little stiff, but it was a genuine smile.

“Did you see, Mammi? I did it all by myself.”

“Yah, I saw.” Some of the color had come back into Rebecca’s pale cheeks, and she met Daniel’s gaze with one that was so filled with fierce maternal love that it startled him. “Denke, Daniel.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”