Patricia Davids - The Christmas Quilt

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not have everyone know who I am. Have you forgotten? I’m under the ban.”

Adam’s face grew pensive. “I had forgotten. Like you, I went out into the world for many years, but God brought me home. We would welcome you back to the church with great joy, Gideon.”

“I’m not here to rejoin the faith. I’m only here to help Rebecca. She and I were…close once.”

“I remember. We all thought you’d marry.”

“So did I, but life doesn’t often turn out the way we plan.”

“Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”

Gideon gave his cousin a wry smile. “I should know that one.”

“It’s from Proverbs.”

“Guess you can tell I haven’t been reading my Bible.”

Adam’s gaze softened. “It’s never too late, Gideon.”

Pulling out his checkbook, Gideon ignored his cousin’s comment and wrote a check for the price of the quilt. “If Rebecca learns the money came from me, from an ex-Amish, she might not accept it. I don’t want to make trouble for her.”

“I understand. After this meeting I will not know you, but it sure is goot to see you. Where are you staying?”

“I’m not staying. I’m driving back to Rochester, New York, tonight.”

“Rochester? Nee, you aren’t driving that way. The sheriff just told us the interstate has been closed south of Akron due to the ice storm.”

“You’re joking.” This was a complication Gideon hadn’t foreseen. He should have paid more attention to the weather forecast before jumping in his car and driving three hundred and fifty miles.

“It’s settled,” Adam declared. “You’re staying with us. My wife, Emma, and I run the Wadler Inn. You can’t miss it. It’s on Main Street at the edge of town. We’re normally booked solid during the auction, but we’ve had a couple of cancellations.”

Gideon glanced around to make sure no one was listening. He leaned closer. “I’m under the ban, cousin. You cannot offer me a place to stay. Just speaking to me could cause trouble for you.”

“You let me worry about that. The bishop here is a good man and just. Unlike your old bishop in Berlin, he is not eager to condemn a man for his sins. He truly believes in forgiveness. Besides, it is my duty to pray for you and to give aid to those in need. You look like you’re in need. Go to the inn when you leave here and tell the man at the front desk that I sent you. There is no need to mention that you are my wayward cousin.”

“Thanks, Adam. I appreciate it. Is there anyone else who might recognize me?” Gideon slipped his sunglasses back on. He knew what Adam was risking by associating with him. He risked being shunned by members of his church. Gideon wouldn’t stay if it meant trouble for Adam.

“Some of my family lives near here, but they did not come today. I’m not sure they would know you. You are much changed.”

Relieved, Gideon signed his check and left it lying on the table knowing Adam should not accept anything from his hand.

With a slight nod, Adam acknowledged Gideon’s thoughtfulness.

Gideon caught sight of Rebecca and her aunt making their way through the crowd in his direction. Turning back to Adam, he said, “As soon as the roads are open I’m out of here.”

Adam’s face grew serious. “Life doesn’t always work out as we plan.”

“If Rebecca asks for my name, tell her I wish to remain anonymous.”

“I can do that. It is good to see you, cousin. I have missed you. All your family has missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too. How are…how are my parents?”

“I had a letter from them just last week. They are well. Your brother Levi has a new son. That makes four boys for him now.”

“Levi is married? Scrawny, shy Levi?” Gideon found it hard to believe his brother had four kids. He was only a year younger than Gideon.

“Betty and Susie, too. They each have a girl and a boy.”

He had eight nieces, nephews and in-laws he’d never met. How sad was that? “Grandchildren must make my mother happy.”

“Not as happy as having you return.”

Gideon swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat. “When you see them—”

He paused. Coming here had been a mistake. It opened up far too many painful memories. “Tell them I’m doing well.”

Taking his box with the quilt packed inside, Gideon turned and made his way toward the exit. Ten feet short of the opening he heard her call his name.

“Booker, please wait!”

Keep walking. Pretend you don’t hear her.

His feet slowed. He could give good advice to himself but he apparently couldn’t follow it.

What would it hurt to speak to her one more time? After today he’d never see her again. Just this once more.

Turning around, he waited until she reached him. Her aunt hung back, a faint look of displeasure on her face. It wasn’t seemly for Rebecca to seek out an Englisch fellow.

She moved toward him until her cane touched his feet. When she opened her mouth to speak, he forestalled her. “I know what you’re going to say, Miss Beachy, but there is no need.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. He memorized the fine arch of her brows, the soft smile that curved her lips. She wore a pair of dark, wire-rimmed spectacles, but he knew her eyes were sky blue. If this was the last time he saw her face he wanted to remember it until the day he died.

“There is always a need to show our gratitude for the kindness of others, Mr. Booker.”

“Consider me thanked. I’ve got to get going.” Any second now he was going to blurt out his identity and undo all of the good he’d accomplished.

He was keenly aware of Rebecca’s aunt standing a few paces back. A burly man came out of the crowd and stood with her, a look of displeasure formed on his face, too. Gideon turned his back to them. It was possible they’d met but he wasn’t sure.

This was nuts. He wanted to see Rebecca again. He’d done that. He wanted to help her and he had.

Mission accomplished. Walk away.

No, what he really wanted was an answer to why she stopped loving him. But that was an answer he was never going to get.

“Good luck with your surgery, Miss Beachy. I wish you every success.” He turned away and walked out into the stinging cold sleet.

Chapter Three

Rebecca held on to her aunt’s arm as they entered the lobby of the Wadler Inn. The instant she stepped inside the building she was surrounded by the smells of wood smoke, baking bread and roasting meat. She felt the heat and heard the crackling of burning logs in the inn’s massive fireplace to her right.

The clatter of cutlery and plates being gathered together as tables were cleared came from her left. The Shoofly Pie Café was adjacent to the inn and accessible through a set of wide pocket doors. The murmur of voices and sounds told Rebecca the doors were open. The discordant noise increased the headache growing behind her eyes.

As her aunt moved forward, Rebecca automatically counted her steps so she could navigate the room by herself in the future. Although she had stayed at the inn several times in the past, she needed to refresh the layout in her mind. She thought she knew the place well, but a chair carelessly moved by one of the guests or a new piece of furniture could present unseen obstacles for her.

The thump of feet coming down the stairs and the whisper of a hand sliding over a banister told her the inn’s open staircase was just ahead. The tick-tock of a grandfather clock beside the stairway marked its location for Rebecca.

“Velkumm.” Emma Troyer’s cheerful voice grew closer as she left the stairs and came toward them.

“Hello, Emma.” Rebecca smiled in her direction.