Lilly's Wedding Quilt (24 page)
He was quiet for so long that she feared she’d offended him somehow, but when he looked up, his eyes were golden-green and full of emotion. He shook his head and the lamplight caught on the stray blond strands of his hair. Lilly thought he’d never looked so serious, nor so handsome.
“Lilly … it’s so … nice. And
gut
. You make me feel like you can see inside of me, like you listen to me … thank you.” His chair creaked as he leaned forward to embrace her with warm arms, then folded the square carefully and tucked it into his pants’ pocket.
She gazed at the present table once more, where handmade decorations of clay and paper trimmings nestled among the pine boughs. He began to ask her about each clay ornament until she slowly began to reveal forgotten parts of her life.
“The Christmas tree is from second grade year,” she recalled as he carefully held the faded green dough.
He turned the tree in his palm toward the light of the lamp. “I can still see your tiny fingerprints in the dough.”
She took it from him, smiling; it seemed an intimate observation. And she wasn’t sure how to respond.
“You still have small hands,” he said as she placed the tree back among the aromatic pine branches.
“Do I?” she asked, extending her hands with innocence toward the light. He touched her then, soft strokes of one callused thumb over her knuckles. And she stilled, like a rabbit in the snow, until the moment was broken by the sudden intonation of the clock and a brief clicking noise, like the closing of a door.
“Did you hear that?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder and drawing from him.
“It was probably just the house creaking.” He looked back to the table. “Tell me about this material here. It almost looks like a quilt top.”
She smiled in memory and caught up an edge of the gay patchwork fabric. “
Ach
, this is my favorite. My father and I sewed it together when I was a little girl.”
“Only a real man and a
gut daed
would not be ashamed to quilt with his daughter,” he said with warmth.
“I know. That’s how he was.”
He caught her hand against the fabric. “I miss him too, Lilly. He taught me so much when I was young.”
“I used to watch you come over to the barn from my window.” His eyes gleamed at her confession.
“Did you now? I should have paid more attention …” He trailed off and she kept from mentioning the fact that his thoughts had probably been occupied by Sarah.
“I remember once that Father had a large, unbroken black gelding out in front of the barn and he left you holding the horse’s lead to go and get something from his shed. The horse must have spooked or something because it started to toss its head and prance around, obviously very agitated. I was terrified for you. But you just stood there, relaxed and calm. I don’t know what you did, but he seemed to quiet some. And then you reached out and touched him. And he just stood still. The more you touched him, the calmer he became.”
“I remember that. I was scared out of my mind that the horse would rear or kick, or completely take off. But I knew if I could be calm and relaxed, he might take cues from me. So, I just breathed into his nostrils and did the rest on intuition.”
They were silent for a moment, then Lilly drew a deep breath. “Do you think
Derr Herr
gives us intuition at times, to help us do His will?”
“If you mean the way we stepped into our engagement and wedding, then yes.”
She moistened her lips in thought, then rose from her chair. “We should go to sleep.
Danki
, Jacob, for a
wunderbaar
first Christmas.” She bent as if to hug him, then simply touched his shoulder and hurried to their room.
J
acob sat for a while, perplexed at the emotions that seemed to rush past him whenever Lilly was near. His arm ached and he longed for another dose of liniment—especially if it could be anything like the last time. He sighed aloud, wanting to give Lilly time to change her clothes and get into bed before he took up his self-imposed place on the floor. He knew she wasn’t all that happy with the idea, but he couldn’t trust himself—in more ways than one. In that moment he realized he wasn’t worried about saying Sarah’s name in his sleep again; he just didn’t want to risk touching his
fraa’s
white skin while he dreamed …
J
acob moved to turn off the lamp. He paused, feeling a compelling urge he couldn’t ignore. He lifted the lantern, walked through the room to the kitchen, and then to the back door. He slipped on his boots, opened the door, held the lamp up, and stared outside into the bitter cold, unsure of what he looked for. He almost went back inside, when once again he felt that he shouldn’t. He paused. Turned. Walked across the back porch and down the steps, feeling the wind bite through his shirt. He told himself that he’d just go check on the livestock, then go back inside. He felt he must surely be tired or too occupied with thoughts of Lilly to think straight.
He almost tripped when his boot came in contact with something. He swung the lamp in front of him and the shine caught on the bluish white of Mrs. Lapp’s face and closed eyes, then on her exposed arms, summer nightdress, and pale, bare legs and feet. He almost choked as he tried for a second to process the image, and then he was down on knees, scrabbling in the snow to slip his arms beneath his mother-in-law. The light tipped and went out as he caught her against his chest. He rose and began to run with her slight weight to the shadow of the kitchen door.
L
illy came out of a sound sleep to hear Jacob calling her name. She ran from the bedroom to see him bending over the kitchen table, lamps lit, his arms moving feverishly over what appeared to be a bundle of quilts.
“Jacob, what’s wrong?”
She ran to his side, then saw her mother’s white face and blue lips in waxen relief against the wood of the table. She sucked in her breath and put her hands to her mouth in horror.
“She’s alive, Lilly. She’s breathing, but we’ve got to get her warm … better than this … We’ve got to get her to the hospital …” He muttered frantically as he rubbed her mother’s arms beneath the quilts.
“What happened …
ach
, what happened?” Lilly thought she might vomit. Instead she moved in a daze to rub her
mamm
‘s ice-cold leg.
“I found her … outside, lying in the snow … Lilly, I’ve got to go and get Grant Williams right now. He might be able to warm her up better … an ambulance might take too long … Can you stay here? Rub her arms and legs … try some warm cloths … I won’t be long.” And he was gone, coatless and hatless out the still-open kitchen door before she could say a word.
She sobbed aloud and ran to close the door, then took a deep breath.
Think
, she told herself, and began to pray. She snatched the bottle of liniment from the counter and spilled some of its contents into her shaking hands. She set about reaching beneath the quilts, spreading the herbal warmth across her
mamm’s
chest and down her arms.
“Help me,
Gott
… help her … help me, help me.”
Finally she lifted the quilts to climb upon the table and lay her body across her mother’s. She closed her eyes, listening to the faint heartbeat. She slid her hands to clasp at the body that had given her life and prayed that Jacob would hurry.
S
he became aware that strong, gentle hands lifted her. She sobbed, not wanting to move.
“It’s all right, Lilly … it’s all right …” Jacob cradled her against him and her eyes snapped open.
“My
mamm
… ?”
“Grant’s here now. It’s all right.”
She struggled in his arms and he set her down. She leaned against his cold bulk as Grant Williams bent with a stethoscope over her mother.
“Heartbeat’s fairly steady … but there’s no way for me to accurately measure core body temperature. I’ve got the basic equipment but I won’t take the risk of running fluids to warm her—not in this setting. We’ve got to get her to the hospital.” He lifted his blond head and nodded briefly at Lilly. “You probably saved her life with the liniment and the external warming, but there are still some risks. Get me all the tinfoil you have. Jacob, bring the buggy round; we have no time.”
They both scrambled to obey. Lilly ran in confusion to the pantry and brought out the large roll of tinfoil.
“Great.” Grant grabbed the roll and flung back the quilts. He glanced at Lilly. “I’ve got to take her gown off …”
“Yes,” she said.
He was quick and gentle, wrapping her mother’s limbs close to her body with the foil. “It acts as a heat conductor,” he explained. “Keeps heat in as well.” He continued the foil wrapping all the way up around her head, leaving room for her face, then he piled back on the quilts and picked her up.
“You’re coming, of course. Put a coat on over that gown and let’s go.” Lilly pulled on her cloak and bundled her hair down the back of her neck, inside the wool. She rammed her feet into a pair of boots, then realized that she still clutched her mother’s nightgown of summer cotton. She followed the doctor out to where Jacob waited with the buggy.
H
ere, drink this.”
Jacob slid a Styrofoam cup into Lilly’s hands and watched until she took a sip of the hot chocolate. They were in the Lockport Hospital’s ICU waiting room and had been there for an incredibly long two hours without news.
Grant Williams paced the hall, obviously not wanting to disturb them, and Jacob was grateful for his consideration.
Lilly sat still and straight, her slender hands still holding her mother’s nightgown. He tried to hug her, but she wouldn’t relax, so he just sat beside her. They were alone in the room, and he prayed the passing time would not bring bad news. Grant had mentioned something about possible organ damage.
“She must have been walking in her sleep,” Lilly said.
“What?” It was the first full sentence she’d said in an hour, and he stared into her blue eyes, huge in her white face.
She looked at him and spoke matter-of-factly. “My
mamm
… somehow she must have been walking in her sleep.”
He took a deep breath, then turned away from her for a moment, slowly shaking his head. “No, Lilly.”
“What do you mean, no?” she snapped.
He looked back at her and watched as her cheeks filled with angry color.
“Lilly … I don’t think this was an accident.”
“Of course it was.” Her bottom lip quivered. “Of course it was.”
He felt his eyes well with tears and reached to draw her close. She yanked herself away from him. “Don’t touch me.”
He let her be, just once brushing her hand. He waited.
She drew a shuddering breath. “Her gown … it’s a summer one.”
“I know.”
“It’s just so silly … her choosing a summer gown on Christmas day …” Her voice broke and she curled into herself, drawing her knees up and rocking slightly.
He moved to gather her to him, and this time she collapsed against his chest. He ached to absorb her pain, to take it from her somehow.
“Lilly, it’s going to be all right.”
She pulled back to stare up at him. “How could she do that? How could she … I should have known. I thought something was wrong earlier … I might have stopped her.”
“
Nee
, this has nothing to do with you.”
“She seemed so happy—”
She broke off when a man cleared his throat.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wyse … I’m Doctor Parker.”
Jacob rose to shake the
Englisch
man’s hand while Lilly visibly composed herself and straightened upright on the couch.
“Would you mind if I pull up a chair?”
Jacob grabbed a plastic-backed chair. “Here, doctor. Please sit down.”
“Thank you.”
Jacob sat back down and caught Lilly’s hand in his own.
“Mrs. Lapp is going to be fine … physically,” Dr. Parker began.
Lilly stiffened next to him, then spoke.
“
Physically
, doctor?”
“Yes, her vital signs are good. There is no organ damage that we can find. She’s come around a bit. We’ll have to watch her, of course, but, as I said, I believe her to be out of danger at the present.”