Love's Abundant Harvest (7 page)

Sam held up a hand and sat at the table with a fork and knife in hand. Manny wondered
whether he always did this or if he was trying to make a point. The pan was starting
to heat up again, but the ham and eggs weren't ready.

“Abner does that,” he said.

“I'm gonna do it for a while. He's not feeling up to it, and I'm glad to help.” Manny
wondered how long it would be legitimate for him to bring them mail. Abner was their
next-door neighbor. Manny lived three
haus
es down—not convenient at all.

Sam frowned. “Just until Abner's up to it again.”

“I'll be on my way, then.” The coffee smelled good, but Manny could hardly be in
the same room with the man. He didn't know how Lucy could either. “I'll see you later,
threshing the bishop's wheat.”

“Will do.”

When he shut the door behind him, he wished it was him sitting at that table, not
Sam. The change in Lucy's demeanor was understandable with a man like that.

Manny got into his buggy and made his way to Bishop Atlee's. His home had two add-ons
for
dawdihauses
from both sides of their families. The appearance was deceiving in
that three sets of families actually lived in their own
haus
es. The bishop was a
firm man. Manny preferred to go to one of the deacons rather than the bishop. Both
were conservative in their thinking. Although Manny followed their rules, he didn't
always agree with their adherence to the old ways.

“You're late.” Caleb greeted him with a grin. “Where have you been?”

“Why?” Manny was deep in thought, and must have had a crusty look about him.

“You seem irritated. Have you been by Lucy's place?” Caleb said it like he knew what
went on at her place, but he surely couldn't know what kind of morning Manny had
had.

“As a matter of fact,
jah
.” Manny jumped down and gave the horse's reins to a group
of boys who took the buggies, unharnessed the horses, and let them out into a corral,
and then put up the buggies. “How'd you know?”

“I had a feeling you'd find an excuse to go to her farm. Sounds like you and Sweet
Pea have a lot in common.”

Manny stopped in his tracks, wondering how Caleb had gotten so perceptive. Then he
thought about it for a minute. “Emma.” He shook his head.

“If you tell her something, you've told me too.” Caleb grinned then turned serious.
“Watch yourself, my friend. Lucy is married, and Sam is not one to tangle with.”

Manny nodded, wanting the conversation to be over. He valued this time to set his
mind straight and be around
others. His time alone in his
haus
was nearly killing
him. He felt if he didn't have that horse, he'd really be lost.

He grabbed a handful of wheat stalks that had been tied together with twine. The
women stood by a large can and vigorously beat the bundles against the insides of
the cans to separate the kernels from the stalks. They transferred the wheat kernels
to a bucket, hoping for a nice breeze to separate the chaff away naturally. As they
poured the wheat between the two buckets, they chatted about the lunch menu. The
men preferred to use a wooden hammer to move the process along, beating the wheat
away against a flat surface. When no more kernels remained, they threw away the stalk
and started the process over again.

The young men took loads to the granary silo. The boys would back up the wagon and
use large buckets like a conveyer system to load the wheat at the top of the silo.

“Make sure you sweep up that floor before a single piece of wheat is dropped in that
silo,” the bishop told the boys in his authoritarian manner.

The boys gave him their full attention and scrambled onto the wagon, hanging off
the sides. When they were about to transfer the wheat into the silo, Manny went over
to make sure the floor was clean.

When Lucy and a handful of women came up to give the boys some lemonade, he glanced
over, but she made herself busy with the little ones who appeared, running around
near the silo. The older boys started pouring down gallons of grain without giving
a signal, and the dust and pouring grain pounded down on them. The women rushed to
pull them away.

“Stop! Children are down here!” Manny yelled to the young men above them as he climbed
up the stairs. The
grain stopped falling, so Manny stood still and glanced up at
them.

Mothers scolded and consoled the little ones, and Manny knew the older boys would
get an earful for not giving a signal. He looked up at the pillar above him, thinking
how dangerous the massive structure could be.

T
he next morning Sam walked through the kitchen without a sound except for his boots
hitting the floor. Lucy entered the mudroom just as he shut the outside door behind
him. She didn't understand. She'd done nothing wrong, from what she could tell, anyway.
Had his former wife gone through this too? No one talked about her or what had happened
to her. Lucy didn't know whether it was because of Sam's reclusive ways or whether
his first wife was more like him than Lucy was, wanting solitude.

She peeked out the window, watching him walk to the barn to milk. She looked down
at her swollen stomach and wished she wasn't pregnant—a horrible thing to think.
She wanted her baby, but not with a man like Sam. She prayed for a boy, in hopes
that someday he'd be able to take care of himself if Sam didn't treat him well. She
was on her way to feeling sorry for herself when a buggy rambled down the road.

“Nellie,” she whispered. Lucy closed her eyes and praised
Gott
's timing. A visit
from her was just what she needed. She opened the door and stepped outside. Her forehead
began to perspire, and the sun wasn't even up. Yet she waited for Nellie in the heat.

“
Gut
morning, you!” Nellie climbed out and handed Lucy the reins to tie onto the
hitching post Sam had carved from an old hickory tree. She held the brown suede bag
in
which she kept her quilting materials. This one was larger than others Lucy had
seen.

“You're here early.” Lucy didn't mind, but Sam might. Anything that took time from
the farm was more than frowned upon.

“I'll help with your chores.” She tucked a finger under Lucy's chin and looked into
her eyes. “You look tired.” Nellie shook her head. “I understand your situation,
but definitely don't agree with it. I have little patience for Sam's treatment of
you.”

“But complaining only makes things worse.” Lucy whispered, in hopes Nellie would
do the same.

Nellie lifted a hand. “I know. That's why I'll just bite my tongue and stay out of
his path.”

“I'm always tired these days, with this little one keeping me up at night.” Lucy
opened the door for Nellie, and they walked into the kitchen. “Sam already ate, but
there are plenty of pancakes if you're hungry.”

She knew the look in Nellie's eyes, and averted hers. Lucy was worn out of . . .
well, just about everything right now. She didn't have the energy to do much but
keep food on the table and try to make it through the day without taking a nap.

“I've eaten. Your
mammi
doesn't give anyone a choice.” She walked through the kitchen.
“Let's sit in the family room.” Nellie sat and placed the bag on the floor next to
her. “Are you up to quilting?” Her brow furrowed as she studied Lucy's face.

“
Jah
, I'm fine.” Lucy wasn't, but of all the quilters she knew, Nellie was the best
around, and she always learned something new from her.

“You can't fool me. You look exhausted.” The lines in
Nellie's forehead deepened,
and she shook her head. “And it's not just the baby. You're only halfway through
your last trimester.”

Lucy rubbed her eyes, keeping the tears away. “Why didn't you ever get married, Nellie?”

“Funny you should ask. I took a different path.” Nellie glanced down, grabbed the
bag, and set it beside her on the couch. The large satchel was filled to the brim.

Lucy examined it. “That's a big bag.”

“It's a big story.” She pulled out one of the largest quilts Lucy had ever seen.

Lucy tilted her head, thinking back to her question about marriage. “What other path
is there?”

Nellie smiled. “I'll show you.”

Lucy took one end of the quilt, marveling at the variety of colors, shapes, and sizes.
The elaborate decoration and thoughtful design were like none Lucy had ever set her
eyes on. “I could spend hours looking at this quilt. Who made this with you?”

“Only me.” Nellie's smile showed pride. Even though she was not well looked upon
in their community, how could she not feel proud of such an incredible piece of art?

Lucy gave her a look. “How can you have possibly done all of this by yourself?”

“I made a profession of quilting.”

Lucy puzzled over how that could happen. It sounded too . . . English. “How can that
be? We sell them at the mud sales, but do you mean a real business?”

Nellie nodded. “People came from all around to purchase them. Eventually I needed
more room, and I rented a store.”

Lucy's mouth dropped. This was unreal. That Nellie
could be so independent and support
herself dumbfounded her. “You did? Where?”

“Right here in Lititz.” She turned to look at Lucy. “I expected you to be surprised,
but not this much.”

Lucy shook her head. “I'm sorry. I don't doubt you could do that, especially without
a family to tend to. I'm just surprised I never knew about it.”

“Things got a little messy with the bishop. That's one reason why I came here to
live with your
mammi
. She was one of the few who didn't judge me for what I did.”
She paused just long enough to take in a breath. “Your
mammi
's a special lady.”

“
Jah
, I don't know what I'd have done without her.” Lucy was secretly envious of
Nellie's boldness, knowing that she could never do such a thing but also that she
didn't want to. A loving husband was all she truly wanted.

“Lucy, I'm telling you all this to show you how strong you are.”

Lucy started to speak, but Nellie stopped her with a raised hand.

“You just don't know it yet. Do you think I knew what to do or how to do it when
I started up that store?” She moved her head slowly back and forth. “I started from
the ground up, and it was only by the grace of
Gott
that it all came together.”

She sat back and smiled contently. “You should have seen it, Luce.” She lifted her
hands in front of her. “I named the shop Pieces of Life.”

Lucy sighed. “That's a great name.” She looked up with Nellie, envisioning what it
would look like in the storefront window. “What stories, though? Our quilts usually
symbolize something.”

“These were different. These quilts were about the customers' lives. What they did,
where they lived, the experiences they had, and whether they included it or not,
I'd ask them about their faith. These quilts are like the Bible, filled with parables
and stories. True stories.”

Lucy chuckled. “You were a storyteller and evangelizer all wrapped up into one.”
She tried to imagine it but instead leaned forward and studied the quilt for the
answer. “Is this one yours?”

“
Jah
, this here is one with your
mammi
.” She pointed to a block with a stalk of celery
in the middle, the Amish tradition at most weddings. The green color was obscure,
not quite the dark color it should be.

“Is this her wedding?” Lucy frowned, knowing something wasn't right.

“
Nee
, your
mammi
can tell you her story.”

Lucy glanced over at her. “You have her story in here? No wonder it's so big.”

“
Nee
, not their stories, but she and Rosy were so involved in my life, they are in
the quilt quite a bit.”

“And your sisters are in here too?”

“
Jah
, but I didn't have the same relationship with them as your
mammi
and Rosy. As
they are widows, and there are no men in our lives, we created a life of our own
together.” Her eyes squinted. “Do you see the beauty of the story as well as the
beauty of the quilt?”

Lucy scanned the many patches and wondered what each and every one said, like pages
of a book. Some were obvious, and others didn't make any sense to her at all. Maybe
in code or secrets that only Nellie would understand.

“What a beautiful way to track your story, like a memoir
in a quilt,” she murmured.
“What is this one with the rainbow?”