The Quilter's Daughter (24 page)

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bby’s heart thumped like a trapped animal as she stood on the sidewalk, holding Deborah’s hand, in front of the remains of her quilt shop. A pile of ashes and charred timber was all that was left. It had been burned beyond repair.
If only there was a way to turn back the hands of time. If I just hadn’t gone to Pennsylvania to help Mom. If I had only returned to Ohio a few days sooner. If I had understood the meaning of my dream, this would not have happened
.

Abby’s chest heaved, and her throat burned, but she wouldn’t give in to the tears stinging the back of her eyes. She needed to be strong for Lester’s mamm. She needed some answers.

“Did the firemen say why the store caught fire?” she asked Deborah.

Deborah’s shoulders lifted, and she drew in a shuddering breath. “I—I—believe it’s my fault, Abby. I think I’m the cause of my son’s death.”

“Wh-what are you saying?” Abby couldn’t imagine that Lester’s mamm could be responsible for this tragic accident.

Deborah sank to a nearby bench, and Abby did the same. “A cat got into the shop the afternoon before the fire and hid. I tried to find him but finally gave up.” She sniffed and dabbed at the tears trickling down her cheeks. “I completely forgot about the cat when I closed up the shop and went home. I thought about it after I made it to the house, but I figured I’d just find him and shoo him away in the morning.”

“I don’t understand,” Abby said. “What would the cat have
to do with the fire?”

“The fire chief said they found the remains of a kerosene lamp overturned.” Deborah gulped on a sob. “I—I—think I may have forgotten to turn it off, and the cat—”

“Knocked it over,” Abby said, finishing Deborah’s sentence.

“Jah. Then the following morning, Lester came through Berlin before any of the other stores had opened. He said they had a lot of work to do at the blacksmith shop, and he wanted to get an early start. He must have passed by your store on the way and caught sight of the fire. Instead of waiting for help to arrive, he went inside with the hope of saving some of your quilts.”

“How do you know this?” Abby asked with a catch in her voice.

“Some carpenters who’d come to work on the cheese shop down the street saw it all. They’d already called the fire department, and one man said he had cautioned Lester about going inside.” Deborah drew in a quick, shaky breath. “I was told that the first time Lester entered the store, he came out with four quilts. But then, foolishly, he went back for more. That was when the roof caved in, and he was knocked unconscious. By the time the firemen arrived, my son was dead.”

The haunting memories of Abby’s dream crept into her mind and tightened its grip. It wasn’t just an ugly dream as Mom had suggested. It really had been a warning, and maybe the cat in the dream represented the one that had gotten into her quilt shop.

“I’m ever so sorry, Abby,” Deborah wailed. “Sorry for the loss of your shop, and sorry for the loss of my boy, who would have been your husband soon if this hadn’t happened.”

The silence between them was thick and draped around Abby like the heavy shawl she wore. She sat there awhile, picking at the cuticle on her index finger until it bled. Her life had been cut back like a pruned vine, but she didn’t hold Deborah responsible for the accident. Many times at the end of the day she had been distracted or overly tired. She could have easily left one of the gas lamps burning, the way Deborah thought she had done. Abby could see herself doing the very same thing with the cat. No, she couldn’t allow Lester’s mamm to carry the blame for this. It
was Abby’s fault the shop was now a pile of rubble. She was to blame for Lester’s horrible death. It had been her decision to go to Pennsylvania. It was she who’d decided to stay so long. And she had not heeded the warning of her recurring dream.

She reached for Deborah’s hand. “You’re not to blame. If I had returned to Ohio sooner, Lester would still be alive.” The words stung, but she had to say them. “If I had been here, he wouldn’t have gone inside.”

“You can’t know that.”

Abby nodded. “Jah, I’m certain of it.”

Deborah’s dark eyes shimmered with tears. “No matter who’s to blame for this tragedy, I know my son loved you, Abby. He loved you enough to risk his life to try and save some of your quilts.”

Abby sniffed back tears that threatened to spill over. “I know.”

“The four quilts Lester managed to save are at my house. Maybe you’d like to get them after Lester’s funeral service.”

Deborah’s last statement was nearly Abby’s undoing. She didn’t think she could ever look at another quilt without feeling guilty and remembering her loss. Yet she knew she couldn’t leave the quilts with Deborah. Maybe she would have them shipped to Mom’s house. When and if she felt ready, she might decide to sell them.

“I wish I could have gone with Abby to Ohio,” Naomi told Caleb as they opened the store for business. “She’s going to need someone to help her get through Lester’s funeral.”

“Lester’s mamm is there, and so are Abby’s brother and sister-in-law,” Caleb reminded her.

“I know, but I wish I could be there for her.”

“You can be, when she returns to Pennsylvania.”

“Do you think Abby might decide to stay in Ohio? It is her home, you know.”

Caleb turned on the gas lamp hanging above the counter. “What’s left for her there? The quilt shop’s gone, and Lester is
dead. I’m sure she’ll want to get away from all those unpleasant memories.”

“You’re probably right.” Naomi opened a sack of toys for Sarah and went to put baby Susan in the crib at the back of the room. When she returned, she found Caleb struggling to open a carton of books. She was tempted to offer her help, but then she reminded herself how important it was for him to be independent. Caleb had given up a lot when he’d sold his buggy shop and purchased the store. She knew he’d done it so they could be married and he would have a way to support them. Most things in the store he could do fairly well, but the forefinger and middle finger on Caleb’s left hand had been badly crushed when Mose Kauffman’s buggy gave way. Since that time Caleb had only limited use of his hand.

Naomi was relieved when Caleb found a utility knife and finally accomplished his task. She knew he wouldn’t have liked it if she’d stepped in to help. Not unless he’d asked her to.

Naomi headed to the quilt shop, where Matthew was opening for business. He looked sad today, probably feeling Abby’s pain and wishing he could do something to ease it for her.

“Anything I can do to help you here?” she called to her brother.

Matthew turned from his job of lighting the gas lamps. “Unless we get a lot of customers, I think I can manage on my own today.”

“With Thanksgiving only a few days away, I doubt we’ll get too many customers in the store or the quilt shop.”

“You’re probably right. Most women are at home getting ready for the holiday.” Matthew’s eyes darkened, and he released a groan. “Sure won’t be much of a Thanksgiving for Abby this year. Do you think she’ll spend it in Berlin or come back here to be with our family?”

Naomi shrugged. “I’m guessing she’ll want to stay in Ohio a few days after the funeral. Abby’s worried about Lester’s mamm, and I’m sure she’ll offer Deborah as much support as she needs.”

Matthew’s gaze went to the ceiling. “Abby thinks too much of others and not enough about herself. She should have gone
back to Berlin several weeks ago, like Fannie wanted her to.”

“Abby’s a caring woman, and she was only doing what she felt was best for her mamm and little brothers. You can’t fault her for that, Matthew.”

“Don’t fault her. I was just voicing my thoughts, that’s all.”

Naomi knew it was best to drop the subject. Truth be told, she had a hunch Matthew cared a great deal more for Abby than he let on. It made her wonder if somewhere down the line, after Abby had time to heal, there might be a chance for her and Matthew to become a courting couple.

Better not mention that
, Naomi decided.
It’s too soon after Lester’s death to even be thinking such things
. She turned toward the door leading to her and Caleb’s store. “If you need me for anything, be sure and let me know.”

Linda rolled out of bed, fumbling around for her robe. She thought she’d heard Jimmy calling, and when she tried to rouse Jim she discovered his side of the bed was empty.

She snapped on the light to check the alarm clock and realized it was only six in the morning. Had Jim left for work already, or had he slept on the couch again? He’d been doing that a lot lately. But surely he wouldn’t do it with her parents here.

Since her conversion, Linda had made every effort to restore peace to their household, but Jim seemed to be growing more distant as the weeks went by, and she didn’t know what to do. She knew he was angry because she had convinced him to attend church on Thursday morning.

“I’ll go this once,” Jim had muttered when they got ready for bed last night. “But don’t think I’m going to make a habit of it.”

I need to commit this situation to God, while I pray, set a good example, and leave everything in His hands
. Linda opened the door and headed down the hall to Jimmy’s bedroom. A quick peek let her know he was still sleep. Probably just dreaming. She shut the door again and returned to her room.

Wide-awake and not wanting to go back to sleep, she took her Bible from the dresser and curled up on the bed to read a few
chapters. The first passage she chose was 1 Peter 3:1–2. “Wives, in the same way be submissive to your husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, when they see the purity and reverence of your lives.”

Linda closed her eyes. “Lord, I’m trying to be that submissive wife, but it gets harder all the time. If Jim would only show some response, it would give me a ray of hope. I want him to know You personally, and I know that without You in the center of our lives, our marriage will never be what it should.”

A knock on the bedroom door caused Linda to jump. “Jim?”

“No, honey, it’s me.”

“Come in, Dad,” she called.

The door opened, and Linda’s father poked his head inside. “You alone?”

She nodded.

“I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

“I—I was praying.”

Her father frowned. “At six in the morning?”

“There’s no special time to pray, Dad.” Linda smiled. “Did you need something?”

He shook his head. “I was heading downstairs to get a glass of water and heard Jimmy crying, so I thought I’d better let you know.”

She jumped off the bed. “Is he okay?”

“Don’t know. Figured I’d let you handle things.”

Linda started for the door. “I checked on him a few minutes ago, and he was sound asleep.”

“He’s probably having a bad dream.”

“I’m sure that’s all it is, but I’d better make certain he’s not sick.”

“I’m going downstairs to start a pot of coffee,” her father said. “Call if you need me. I think Jim’s already gone to work.”

“I figured as much,” Linda said as she slipped past him.

When Linda entered Jimmy’s room, she found him awake and crying. “Honey, what’s wrong?” She brushed Jimmy’s hair aside and felt his forehead. No fever. That was good.

“I’ve got a stomachache. Can I stay home from school? I wanna be here with Grandma and Grandpa all day.”

Linda kissed his soft cheek. “Thursday is Thanksgiving, and there’s no school for the rest of this week, remember?”

Jimmy’s eyes brightened, and he bounded off the bed. “Yippee! Me and Grandpa can go to the park. Maybe Allen will be there, too.”

She smiled at her son’s exuberance. Not more than a minute ago he’d complained of a stomachache, and now he was bouncing all over the place, excited about going to the park.
At least one of my men is happy about my folks being here. Jim’s been so aloof since Mother and Daddy came, it’s downright embarrassing
.

She reached for Jimmy’s hand. “Let’s go downstairs and see about making some blueberry pancakes.”

“Can we do the kind with faces?”

She released his hand and ruffled his hair. “Sure, sweetie. If that’s what you want.”