The Wedding Quilt Bride

Somehow that simple incident seemed to dissolve much of the strangeness between them. They worked their way around the room, measuring and talking about what she wanted in the shop, until finally Daniel squatted down and put his notebook on his knee to figure out an estimate.

He stole a covert glance at Rebecca, who was saying something to her son. He hadn’t missed the slight apprehension in her face when he’d talked about the supplies they’d need. Was the money a problem?

It shouldn’t be, not if she’d just sold a thriving farm, but how did he know? He’d do the work gladly for nothing in the name of their old friendship, but he knew Rebecca wouldn’t hear of it. That steely independence of hers was new, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Finally he had an approximate materials cost worked out. He stood, catching that trace of apprehension in her eyes.

“How much will it cost to do what I want?”

In answer, he held out the notebook page. “That’s an approximate guess as to the cost of the materials. Unless the mill has upped its prices for a board foot,” he said. “Just joking,” he added quickly, not sure she was in the mood for humor.

“But that’s not including your work,” she said. “I should give you the whole amount...”

“Not up front,” he said, interrupting her. “You pay for the initial materials, so I can start. Then you can pay my labor when the job is finished.” Seeing the objection rising in her face, he added firmly, “That’s how it’s always done, Rebecca. If that outlay for materials is more than you can manage at one time, we can always break the job into smaller units.”

“No, no, that’s okay.” She opened a small bag and began counting out the money into his hand.

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.