Chapter 31
WHAT MADE YOU DECIDE ON the Tree of Life pattern?” Emma’s mother asked as she looked over Emma’s shoulder at the quilt she’d been working on for a good portion of the day in the sewing room.
“It’s a vintage pattern,” Emma stated, “and I’m attracted to old things. Plus, I think it’s an unusual design with a very special name.”
“Do you know the origin of the pattern or its name?” Mom questioned, pulling up an empty chair and taking a seat beside Emma.
“So in some ways it has a biblical reference.”
“It sure seems that way,” Emma responded.
Emma’s mother picked up one edge of the bed covering where no design was present. “This cotton material makes a nice lightweight bed covering for warmer weather and isn’t so heavy like most traditional quilts.”
“That’s true,” Emma agreed.
“Do you think you’ll have it done in time to enter the quilting contest next month?”
Emma pursed her lips before responding. “I hope so, but if I don’t finish in time to, I’ll just hold on to it till next year.”
“That would be an option, but if I were you, I’d work extra hard and try to finish it for this year’s quilt contest.” Mom eyed the quilt once more. “It’s over halfway done, Emma, and I believe you could do it.”
Emma paused her stitching for a bit, resting her needle on the sewing table and allowing her thoughts to stray to the upcoming contest. She hadn’t felt at ease since returning home until she began stitching again, and now that the contest was motivating her to finish this project, she had something hopeful to strive for.
“I’ll do my best, Mom,” Emma said, “but if I spend too much time working on the quilt, I won’t be available to help you around the house or in the yard as much.”
Her mother waved a hand, as if in dismissal. “Don’t worry about that, Emma. During the time you were at your grandparents’ house and Rachel was at her job, I got along pretty well on my own. But if there are certain things I really need help with, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“All right then,” Emma said with gratitude, “I’ll keep pushing and try extra hard to get the quilt done on time.”
Dianna went outside to check on the bird feeders, feeling better about things where her youngest daughter was concerned.
Sending Emma to her grandparents, even for a short time, had been a good decision because Emma had learned to quilt.
It was good to see Emma immersed in something that would take her mind off the broken relationship with Ivan Yoder.
Dianna saw this as the first step in Emma’s emotional healing, and perhaps it would open the door for Emma to begin a new relationship with some other man when the time was right.
Dianna certainly wanted that for her daughter.
It would be a shame to see Emma pining indefinitely for a love she could never have.
Philip has always said I worry too much about our children, but ever since Betty left home, I’ve been overly protective with Rachel, and then again when Emma came along.
Dianna paused her contemplations to open the first feeder and pour the birdseed in.
I can’t help feeling that it was somehow my fault Betty moved away and didn’t want to live near her friends and family anymore.
Maybe I pushed too hard, trying to convince her that the Amish way of life was best for her—even pleading with Betty not to leave home or lose contact with her family.
A bird flew in toward the feeder, nearly landing on Dianna’s head.
She gasped and jumped back, lifting her arms high in the air.
“Whew! That was too close for comfort.” She’d always enjoyed feeding the birds, but she didn’t like it when they got too close or became aggressive.
No doubt her fear was from some childhood trauma concerning a bird, but she refused to allow her mind to figure it out.
After all, Dianna had better things to do today than worry about irrational fears—especially those that might stem from the past.
Turning from the feeder, which now had plenty of seeds, Dianna moved on to another one, closer to the house, and took care of filling that. Once all the feeders were filled, she headed back to the house.
When Dianna stepped onto the porch, she stood by the railing and inhaled the fragrant aroma of fall.
The days were still warm enough to be outside, but the cool nights often brought frost come morning.
Dianna chuckled as she enjoyed observing the flock of finches darting from feeder to feeder as if this might be their last meal.
When Dianna had seen enough, she reentered the house and made her way down the basement stairs to do some laundry.
Seeing one of Rachel’s dresses among the other clothes in the basket, her heart clenched.
After Rachel married David, there would be an empty chair at the table during meals.
Dianna would miss Rachel, but it looked like her and Philip’s youngest daughter would continue living with them for a while yet—maybe even several more years—since she had no steady boyfriend and might never find one she would open her heart to.
Dianna feared that the hurt of losing her first love might stick with Emma for the rest of her life, and then she would never consider marriage.
Arthur
Marlin took a spoonful of the bean-with-bacon soup Luellen had made. She didn’t know what to think when he looked across the kitchen table at her and wrinkled his nose.
“What’s wrong?” Luellen asked. “Is there something you don’t like about your supp? Is it missing some ingredient?”
He gave a vigorous bob of his head. “I’ll say! I can’t taste any salt in this soup at all.”
“Sorry about that. Ever since Emma went home, my mind hasn’t been on cooking.
” She heaved a sigh. “Or much of anything else, for that matter. All I can think about is how sad she looked the day the driver came and picked her up for the trip to Shipshewana.” Luellen placed a hand against her breastbone.
“It nearly broke my heart to see her sadness.”
“Mine as well.” Marlin grabbed the salt shaker from the center of the table, shook some on his soup, and stirred it around. After taking another spoonful, he smiled and said, “That’s much better. Maybe I should take over the cooking from now on.”
Luellen rolled her eyes. “I think not, Husband. I know my way around the kitchen far better than you do.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “Even so, I’m thinkin’ it might be a good idea if I do a taste test of everything while you’re cooking. How’s that sound?”
She shrugged. “It’s up to you, but after a while, you’ll likely get tired of following me around the kitchen while I prepare breakfast, lunch, and supper meals. If you did manage that, you’d most likely be worn out by the end of the day and need a nap after every meal.”
“So what’s wrong with that? At least then I’d know ahead of time if the food was up to my standards or not.” Marlin patted his stomach and let loose with a belly laugh before going back to work on his bowl of soup.
Luellen smiled. From the first day she’d met him at a work frolic, she had enjoyed Marlin’s good humor. He was also very direct and almost always said exactly how he felt about things, which wasn’t a bad trait, unless it was stated harshly. Fortunately, that was normally not the case.
Luellen hadn’t tried her bowl of soup yet, but she figured this might be the opportune moment to do so.
After the first bite, she knew Marlin had been right—it did lack flavor and was in need of some salt.
So she reached for the shaker and added a bit to her soup, and then they both sat quietly throughout the rest of their meal.
Luellen had no idea what thoughts were in her husband’s head while he finished eating, but her own contemplations were mostly focused on Emma and Rachel.
She couldn’t help wondering how they were both doing.
The smell of the bean soup still permeated the house as Luellen scrubbed the table after clearing their dishes and setting them in the sink.
She glanced at the calendar while tidying up the kitchen.
The days were growing shorter as fall weather set in, accompanied by cool gusts of wind and the change of the leaf colors.
This was especially noticeable because nightfall was already so close.
The gas lamps were almost ready to be lit so she and Marlin could spend the remainder of the evening together drinking steaming cups of tea and doing their devotions before bed.
Luellen looked forward to hiring a driver and making the trip to Shipshewana in November for Rachel’s wedding. It would be good to see Dianna, Philip, and their two daughters again. And maybe—just maybe—Emma would make Luellen happy by saying that she had a new suitor.
“What are you up to?” Maggie asked when she wandered into Ivan’s bedroom without knocking.
As though Maggie had lived in this house her entire life, she stood near the threshold, leaning a hand against the doorframe.
Lately, she’d been quite bold, and it had begun to unnerve Ivan.
Especially today when he wanted—and needed—to be alone to get the job done that was set before him on his workbench.
“I’m working on a clock that needs to be repaired,” he replied through tight lips.
“That’s why my door was closed.” They weren’t married yet, and even if they had been, Ivan thought it would have been nice if she’d knocked instead of just barging in.
Apparently, since Ivan had agreed to marry Maggie, she thought she had the right to interrupt him whenever she felt like it.
Would he have any privacy in the days following their wedding?
“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, coming fully into the room. “Guess I should have knocked first, huh?”
“Jah, that would have been appreciated. But you’re here now, so is there something you need?”