Chapter 9 #2
She didn’t see or hear anyone and figured the rest of the family must be at their jobs or someplace else in the house.
Ivan would no doubt be at the harness shop with his dad, but Emma was not sure about his sisters.
She didn’t know if Jane or Norma had jobs outside the home, and Bertha, the youngest sister, didn’t appear to be here either.
“Feel free to take a seat while I get us both some water.” Ida Mae gestured to the living room.
Emma went inside and sat on the sofa. Although she had been here before, she’d never taken it all in.
Now her gaze traveled about the room, resting on the grandfather clock positioned against the left wall.
It was a beautiful piece of furniture, and she enjoyed listening to its rhythmic ticking.
Emma thought the tall frame with such intricate woodwork was fascinating, and she wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before.
Ida Mae came into the room and handed Emma a glass of water. “If you’ll come with me, we’ll go to the room where I do all my quilting and sewing,” she said.
Emma got up and followed Ida Mae down the hall and into a spacious room filled with sewing supplies, a quilting frame, and several quilt racks where a variety of beautiful quilts had been displayed.
“Oh my! These quilts are amazing!” Emma made her way around the room, studying each one but being careful not to touch any of them. She spun around to face Ida Mae. “I had no idea you had made so many quilted bed coverings. Are they all for sale?”
Ida Mae nodded. “Some I sell from my home, but others I take to the fabric store and put on display, like the ones you saw last week.”
“Even if I do learn how to quilt,” Emma said, “I’d never be able to make anything as beautiful as these. You obviously have been blessed with a talent for quilting, Ida Mae.”
Ida Mae shrugged her slim shoulders. “I suppose some would call it a talent, but I simply enjoy making quilts, and I’m sure there are a lot of other quilters who do better work than me.”
Emma found that hard to believe. She’d never seen quilts so beautiful and with such interesting patterns. Emma began asking questions, particularly about the name of each design.
Ida Mae obliged her, but then she said, “All right now, Emma, it’s time to begin your first lesson.”
Ivan got off work a little earlier than usual, so he looked forward to going home and working on Marlin’s old clock—especially without his father interfering.
Upon entering the house, Ivan opted to follow the voices he heard from down the hallway.
To his astonishment, Emma and his mother were in the sewing room.
The young woman seemed as equally surprised to see him, and explained that she had just finished a quilting lesson.
Leaving Ivan and Emma alone for the moment, his mother excused herself from the room.
“If anyone can teach you, it’s my mamm,” Ivan commented as he leaned against the doorframe. “She makes the most beautiful quilts.”
“That’s true,” Emma agreed. “Making one at least half as good as hers would be a distant dream of mine. I haven’t decided on a special quilt pattern of my own yet, but your mother showed me how to cut out some simple, basic squares and had me practice sewing them together by hand.”
After several minutes of conversation, Emma’s eyes flitted to the wall clock adjacent to Ida Mae’s treadle sewing machine.
“It’s getting pretty late,” she said. “I figured I’d be back at my grandparents’ home by now. My grandpa was supposed to pick me up almost an hour ago.”
“Why don’t I take you home?” Ivan offered. “If we see your grandpa’s horse and buggy on the road, I can stop so you can go on home with him.”
Emma sat up straighter, pursed her lips for a second, and nodded. “That’s very kind of you, Ivan. Danki.”
Emma said goodbye to Ida Mae, then accompanied Ivan out into the yard and waited while he secured his horse to the buggy beside the hitching post. Soon after they’d climbed into the interior of the carriage and began their journey, Ivan’s horse hastened his stride as the buggy wheels rolled beneath them.
Emma’s attention seemed to be fixed on the road ahead, no doubt on the lookout for signs of her grandfather’s rig.
As they traveled along, the galloping of Ivan’s horse filled the silence. The sun’s rays faded in his line of sight, reducing the vivid green of the branches with its ember glow along the path.
“Are you excited about the singing this Sunday evening?” Ivan asked.
Emma glanced sideways at him. “I suppose. I don’t mind singing, but being in a group with strangers can be nerve-racking for me.”
“I sort of had that figured out the evening when we formally introduced ourselves.” Ivan tightened his grip on the reins. “I really hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable that night.”
She shrugged. “It’s just the way that I am. I hope I will eventually feel more at ease in such situations.”
The conversation between them fell silent again, and Ivan looked to the side of his buggy, where its silhouette clung to the pavement.
“Say, I have been wanting to do a fishing trip pretty soon. I know that’s more of your kind of pastime, so if you want, I wouldn’t mind it if you tagged along. I—I mean, I would enjoy your company.”
“Are you sure, Ivan? I don’t want to intrude, and besides, my grandmother might be having me do another cooking or sewing lesson whatever day you end up going out to fish.”
“It’s all right with me either way. If you’re too busy, I will understand.” Ivan quirked an eyebrow at her in a deliberate manner. “Though part of me wants to know how skilled you are at fishing, since you claim to be into outdoorsy things.”
Emma blinked. “You don’t believe that I know how to fish, do you?”
“I mean, I could take your word for it, but I’d rather see what you’re capable of with my own two eyes.” He grinned at her and winked.
As they rounded the next bend, the Herschbergers’ house came into view, and Ivan could see Marlin dozing in a hammock in the front yard. Ivan brought the buggy to a standstill.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if my grandma might be napping in the house too,” Emma said.
“Surely if she was awake, she would have woken Grandpa and reminded him to go pick me up.” Emma tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear before dismounting from the carriage. “Thank you for bringing me home, Ivan.”
“My pleasure.” He tipped his straw hat. “But you still haven’t given me an answer about going fishing.”
“I’ll let you know what day I might be free Sunday evening when you pick me up for the singing. With you working during the week, it would probably have to be on a Saturday, though.”
He tipped his straw hat and nodded. “Good thinking, Emma.”