Marta Perry - Abandon the Dark

“That Englischer.” Zeb shook off Ella’s restraining hand, his color darkening alarmingly. “No Amish woman needs to have a lawyer to take care of property for her. Her family does that—the kin who have worked long hours in the sun to be sure the land is paying. Not some fancy lawyer who sits in an office all day.”

From what she’d seen of Jake, he didn’t do much sitting, but that was neither here nor there.

“There’s also the matter of making decisions about Aunt Rebecca’s care,” she said. “Or had you forgotten about that?” She didn’t bother trying to hide the annoyance in her voice.

“I have not forgotten.” He muttered something in Pennsylvania Dutch that she couldn’t understand. “Her family can do that better than you. We see her every week. You haven’t come near her in twenty years.”

The fact that it was true didn’t make it any more palatable coming from him. “But Aunt Rebecca still picked me. I wonder why she trusts me? By the way, she owns the farm you work, doesn’t she?”

Zeb’s big hands, strong despite his age, clenched into fists. For a moment she feared she’d gone too far.

Ella clutched his arm, murmuring to him urgently in Pennsylvania Dutch. She tugged at him, trying to pull him toward the door.

Zeb glared at Lainey for a moment longer. Then, not speaking, he turned and stamped out the back door. Thomas, blue eyes wide in a white face, scurried after him.

Ella shook her head, pulling her bonnet back on with hands that shook a little. “I’m sorry. He has a temper. He forgets himself. He’ll regret he spoke so after a bit.”

“I’m sorry, too.” She should have handled the situation better. When would she learn not to let her emotions get the better of her? “I do appreciate your trying to help. And the food.”

“Ach, it’s nothing.” Ella clasped her hand. “I must go. Maybe I will see you again soon.”

Lainey nodded, but somehow she doubted it. She was suddenly tired and dispirited. How had she let herself get into this situation in the first place? She didn’t belong here.

But she didn’t belong back in St. Louis, either. There seemed no place where she did belong.

CHAPTER FOUR

IT WAS ONE thing to declare she was the person in charge, Lainey decided, and quite another to sit for hours at her great-aunt’s bedside, wishing Rebecca would wake up and tell Lainey what to do.

Fortunately her cousin Katie arrived early in the afternoon, bustling into the hospital room carrying a basket on one arm and what looked like a sewing bag on the other.

“Ach, all alone here?” Katie bent to kiss Aunt Rebecca’s cheek and then glanced at Lainey. “Any change?”

“Not that I can see,” she admitted. “I’m hoping to have a chance to talk with one of the doctors this afternoon.”

“Some things chust take time,” Katie said, her tone confident as she took the second chair and opened her basket. “Now, I knew you would be hungry, so I brought a little lunch for you.”

“That looks like more than a little.” Lainey accepted the paper plate Katie handed her. “I’m fine, really.”

Katie eyed her. “You have circles under your eyes and a worried frown on your face. Komm, now. A nice sandwich and some potato salad will keep you going. And a walnut brownie to finish off. I brought lemonade, but if you want me to get you a coffee, I will.” She looked as if she’d jump out of the chair to do so, and Lainey waved her back.

“Lemonade is lovely.” Obviously it would be easier to eat than to argue. “Didn’t you bring any for yourself?”

“I ate with the family before I left the house. The men are getting a last cutting of hay today, so they had lunch early.” Katie leaned back, watching until Lainey bit into the sandwich.

She’d have said she wasn’t hungry, but the combination of fresh chicken salad on what had to be home-baked wheat bread would tempt any appetite. “Delicious,” she said around a generous mouthful. “How did you know this was my favorite?”

Katie chuckled. “Homemade food is always comforting when you’re having trouble, ain’t so? And I remembered you liked chicken. And chocolate.” She put a huge slab of brownie on the plate.

“Guilty,” Lainey said. She glanced toward Aunt Rebecca’s still figure. “It seems wrong to sit here enjoying my food when Aunt Rebecca is so ill, though.”

“That is nonsense, and she would be the first one to tell you so.” Katie’s round face grew serious. “You must take care of yourself so you can take care of her, ain’t so?”

“You sound like Aunt Rebecca,” she said softly, remembering how her great-aunt always seemed to have a store of solid common sense to share.

“Ja.” Katie’s smile was reminiscent. “I always thought Aunt Rebecca was exactly what an Amish woman should be, so maybe that’s not surprising.”

Seeming satisfied that Lainey was going to do as she was told in regard to her lunch, Katie set the basket on the floor and took up the bag. In a moment, scraps of brightly-colored fabric were spread on her dark green skirt.

“What are you making?” Lainey forked up potato salad, enjoying the crisp contrast of pickles and celery combined with the potato and egg.

“Chust piecing the patches for a quilt.” Katie’s fingers moved dexterously, rearranging the pieces into a square. “Sometimes I use the treadle machine to do the piecing, but I always like to have a project I can work on when I’m sitting.”

“It’s a log cabin design, isn’t it?” Lainey had always been fascinated by quilts, loving the complex patterns and use of color.

“Ja. For my oldest granddaughter’s birthday. She’s going to be eight already, and such a little schnicklefritz. Always into mischief.” Katie’s smile suggested she didn’t mind that in the least.

“Aunt Rebecca tried to teach me to quilt when I was here.” The memory slipped into her mind, making her smile. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very good at sitting still, but I did love arranging the blocks.”

“A nine-patch, was it?” Katie asked. “She taught me, and that’s the first one I made.”

Lainey nodded. They’d gone in the buggy to a shop outside town where a pair of Amish sisters ran a quilting business. If you needed anything for quilting, Aunt Rebecca had said, that’s where you went.

“Lorena and Lovina,” she said abruptly as the names came back to her.

“Ach, imagine you remembering them,” Katie said. “Aunt Rebecca got all her fabric from them. She still does, though I think she must have enough for a dozen quilts in the chest in the back bedroom.”

“I was fascinated by the rows of fabric. The colors...it was like being in the middle of a rainbow.” She’d run from one to another, unable to make up her mind.

Katie nodded as if she understood. Then, without a word, she put the row of fabric pieces she’d been pinning into Lainey’s lap and handed her a needle.

Lainey blinked. “You want me to work on your granddaughter’s quilt? But I’m not good enough.”

“If Rebecca taught you, you know enough,” Katie said. “And it’s gut to keep your hands busy when you’re worried. At least then you have something to show for your worrying,” she added, her tone practical.

Lainey actually found herself laughing. “If that’s the case, I should have a half-dozen quilts done by now.” She picked up the pieces and held the needle poised. “Well, we can always rip it out if my stitches are too terrible.”

But her sewing wasn’t half bad once she started. Thanks to Aunt Rebecca’s early tutelage, she’d always been able to do the hemming and mending most of her peers seemed unable to tackle. Tiny, even stitches, she reminded herself.

The routine, repetitive movements were oddly soothing, reminding her of how much she’d always enjoyed the creativity involved in hand arts. Most of her colleagues would dismiss sewing, knitting, crocheting as crafts, insisting they had no place beside the work of a real artist.