The Amish Quiltmaker’s Unattached Neighbor (The Amish Quiltmaker #6)

Chapter 16

S urely they looked ridiculous, three grown women sneaking into the hospital like thieves, but Cathy had a way of convincing people to do crazy things that they would never dream of doing in more rational moments.

When Cathy told them about Tabitha, Esther had dropped everything, left Hannah in charge of the fellowship supper, Levi in charge of the children, and Beth and Sadie Sensenig in charge of the cleanup. Ada could not imagine the cleanup going very well, but she was trying to let Beth learn from her mistakes, so she just smiled when Beth told of her plan to wash the dishes out on the lawn with a garden hose.

They had brought Mary’s husband, Clay, along as a decoy, because they needed Clay to get Enos out of the hospital room and away from his mater , and they didn’t want Enos to know they had been there. Enos had asked Ada to give him and his mater some privacy, and sneaking into Tabitha’s hospital room was an appalling breach of that request.

Nothing short of an emergency would have induced Ada to do such a crazy thing. But this was definitely an emergency, and Tabitha needed to be set straight.

They had borrowed Beth’s cell phone and given it to Clay so he could communicate with them. Clay had gone up to Tabitha’s room, and the plan was for Clay to talk Enos into visiting the hospital cafeteria to talk about the alfalfa market and how Enos could get more money for his crop. Cathy, Ada, and Esther crowded into a little alcove next to the elevators and waited for Clay’s text telling them they could safely go up to Tabitha’s room.

Cathy held her phone at the ready, as if she was going to need to throw it at somebody. “Clay’s been up there for almost ten minutes. What’s he doing?”

“Probably trying to talk Enos into leaving his mater ’s side,” Ada said.

Esther fingered the sucker that was still tucked behind her ear. “Enos is the most devoted son I’ve ever met.”

Cathy stared at her phone. “Even though his mother is a piece of work.” Her phone lit up, and she was so startled, she nearly dropped it. She recovered her composure and read the text. “He says they’re on their way to the cafeteria. Now’s our chance.”

Ada’s heart pounded like a drum in a rock and roll song, partly because Cathy was being so sneaky, partly because she was worried about what she would say to Tabitha, partly worried about losing her temper, and mostly because she was afraid Enos would catch them and be so mad, he’d sell the farm and she’d never see him again.

They quickly got in the elevator to the fourth floor. Esther and Ada followed Cathy out of the elevator and down the pleasantly bland and antiseptic hall. Without even knocking, Cathy unapologetically opened the door to Tabitha’s room and ushered Esther and Ada inside. It was all so secretive and daring and foolish.

Ada and Cathy had decided on a strategy. Cathy said she’d do all the talking, and if Ada needed to chime in about Enos, Cathy would let her. If there was a chance of helping Enos, Ada was willing.

Tabitha lay on the bed, her eyes clamped shut as if she were exerting a great deal of effort not to open them. She wore a hospital gown and her kapp , but her hair was disheveled, and her face looked even more gaunt than it always did. An IV bag hung on a tall pole, and clear liquid slowly drip-dripped into the tube attached to her arm.

“Is she asleep?” Esther whispered.

Cathy stood at the foot of the bed and rested her hands on the bed frame. “Of course she’s not asleep. I saw her peek when I opened the door.”

“Go away,” Tabitha said without opening her eyes. “Can’t you see I’m trying to get some rest?”

“You’ve had plenty of sleep, and we need to talk.”

Tabitha rolled over, turning her back on them. “I’m dying, and it’s cruel to taunt a dying woman.”

Cathy pulled a chair up next to Tabitha’s bed and sat down. Ada sat on the window seat, and Esther sat on a little round rolling stool in the corner. “You’re not dying,” Cathy said. “You’re pouting.”

Tabitha opened her eyes and sat up as if she’d never been sick a day in her life. “Pouting? I’m not pouting.”

“You are too pouting, and it’s very unattractive on a seventy-year-old woman.”

Tabitha glared at Cathy. “I’m sixty-six.”

“Then start acting like it. Right now you’re acting like my grandson who’s thirteen and a huge pain in the neck. We’re thinking of sending him away to military school.”

Tabitha poked Cathy’s arm, which was resting on her bed. “How dare you mock my grief. You’re the nastiest person I’ve ever met.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Cathy said. “You are the nastiest person I’ve ever met, and I’ve been around a lot longer than you.”

Tabitha seemed disappointed that her insult hadn’t leveled Cathy to the ground. “I’m grieving. Where is your compassion? My ungrateful children have broken my heart. I wish I was dead.”

Ada couldn’t let that comment go unchallenged. “Gotte has given you the gift of life, and it is a grave sin to wish to throw it away. Enos would be devastated.”

Tabitha shot daggers at Ada with her eyes. “The best revenge for an ungrateful son. He hates me. They all hate me. Won’t they be sorry when I die.”

“Please spare us the dramatics. Of course they won’t be sorry. They’ll be relieved.” Cathy was the perfect person for such a moment as this. Nothing ruffled her feathers, and she was willing to speak the very unpleasant truth. “It’s rough when your chickens come home to roost.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you complain and criticize and make yourself very unpleasant, and now nobody wants to be around you, including your children. Especially your children.” Cathy fished in her purse and pulled out a protein bar. “Did Tyson tell you that me and Ada’s sister Beth were the ones who arranged to get you to Pennsylvania.”

Tabitha folded her arms and eyed Cathy resentfully. “A lot of good it did me. They didn’t want me.” Her voice cracked, and her eyes pooled with tears.

Though Ada wanted nothing to do with Tabitha, for Enos’s sake, she slid off the window seat and took Tabitha’s hand. She half expected Tabitha to snatch it away, but she didn’t. “What happened in Pennsylvania, Tabitha?”

Now she pulled her hand away. “Wouldn’t you like to know, so you can gloat over my humiliation.”

“I don’t want to gloat. I want to understand.” To understand why Enos had come back a cold, unbending stranger.

Tabitha’s gaze flicked between Ada and Cathy, probably trying to decide if she could trust either of them. She sighed and lay back on her pillow. “That Tyson fellow dropped me off at what used to be my house. An hour later, Zeb found me a hotel room and sent Enos an overnight letter. He wouldn’t let me stay there because Lilith says she gets heart palpitations when I’m around. She ordered me out of my own home, wouldn’t even let me say hello to the children, and told Zeb to take me to McDonald’s for dinner, even though she had something cooking on the stove. I could smell it. What kind of a daughter-in-law treats her husband’s mother that way? One of Zeb’s children fetched John, and the two of them drove me to a hotel to stay until Enos could come and pick me up. I told them Gotte would surely smite them dead for dishonoring their mother. Zeb said the commandment to cleave to his wife came first. Ungrateful little buzzards.”

Ada never thought she could feel sorry for someone as petulant and noxious as Tabitha, but she’d been deeply hurt by the people who should have been the most loving. That kind of betrayal cut deep. Enos had known what would happen, and he had also anticipated how devastated his mater would be. “That was very harsh. I’m sorry.”

Tabitha practically spit venom from her mouth. “Are you?”

Cathy smacked the bed, and everybody jumped. “No need to snap at Ada. She was trying to be nice.”

Tabitha glared at Cathy and shut her mouth.

Cathy poked her finger in Tabitha’s direction. “Ada would never stoop to gloating, but I’m not that charitable. You brought this on yourself, and you deserve everything you get.”

Tabitha wasn’t one to take criticism meekly or well. She pushed herself to sitting once again. “I’m their mother. I don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“That is how you treat your children and their spouses. Do they deserve to be treated the way you treat them?”

Tabitha opened her mouth, then promptly closed it, maybe actually considering the truth of Cathy’s words.

“Your own children don’t want you near them because you’re mean and nasty and you use God as a weapon.”

Tabitha scoffed. “A weapon? How ridiculous.”

“You invoke God when you want to get your way, when you want to control the people you say you love.”

“You’re wrong,” Tabitha protested. “It’s always been my job to raise up righteous children and grandchildren. Their sins will be on my head if I do not train them well.”

“I hate to tell you this, Tabitha,” Cathy said, “but you are not God’s messenger. Neither does God ask you to judge anyone—not your children, not your grandchildren, not anyone at church. It is none of your concern if the Colorado Amish have solar power. It is also none of your concern how your sons raise their children. You’ve made them miserable with all your interference and criticism. I barely know you, and I can’t stand you. I can only imagine how much worse it is for your children.” Cathy had never looked more fierce or more grumpy or more breathtaking. Her eyes glowed with righteous indignation and her wrinkles were exclamation points around her mouth. “Let God make the judgments. It’s your job to love everyone.”

Tabitha wasn’t ready to give up trying to be right. “Love doesn’t accomplish anything. I love my boys and my grandchildren up one side and down the other. That hasn’t stopped them from rejecting me.”

Ada wouldn’t let Tabitha get away with such an excuse. “You’re wrong, Tabitha. Love is the only thing. Just ask the Apostle Paul. If you don’t have charity, you are nothing.”

Tabitha lifted her chin and blinked back tears. “All the more reason to dry up like a pile of leaves and blow away.”

Cathy sighed. “Now, now, Tabitha. We don’t want you to die.”

Tabitha sniffed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, it’s true, whether you believe it or not. We girls have to stick together, but we also have to choose love.”

Tabitha grabbed a tissue from the box next to her bed and blew her nose. “You really don’t want me to die?”

“Of course not,” Ada said. “There is still so much good you can do, so much life to live.”

Tabitha dabbed at her nose. “I was hoping to spend my last years with my grandchildren. They bring me so much joy, but Zeb and John are determined to keep me away.”

Ada tried to tiptoe up to the subject of Enos. “You say you love them, but do you treat your grandchildren the way you treat Enos?”

“Of course not . . .” Tabitha said, before realization dawned on her face. “I’m . . . I’m nice to my grandchildren.”

Cathy popped a glob of protein bar into her mouth. “So you admit you’re not very nice to Enos?”

“He . . . he’s never been a good son. Zeb is tall and handsome. John is smart and good with numbers. Enos is damaged, with a missing foot and no real talents.”

Ada wasn’t going to argue with Tabitha’s assessment of Enos’s qualities, even though she couldn’t disagree more. Enos was a hard worker, patient, kind, and protective. He exuded quiet strength and humility. He was quite literally the most wunderbarr man in the world. “Enos is the only son kind enough to take care of you. I would think you could show a tiny bit of gratitude. You abuse him, but he still loves you.”

Tabitha folded her arms. “He doesn’t love me.”

Cathy nodded. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to agree with Tabitha. Enos doesn’t love her.”

Tabitha’s eyes widened. “I thought you came to make me feel better.”

“I always try to speak the truth, even if it’s hard to hear.”

Tabitha scowled at Cathy. “He takes care of me because he’s afraid he’ll go to hell if he doesn’t.”

Cathy blew air from between her lips. “It seems neither of your other sons are afraid of going to hell.”

“Their wives have poisoned them against me. I told Enos if he loves me, he’ll never marry and bring another horrible woman into the family.”

Esther’s troubled gaze connected with Ada’s.

Ada’s heart tried to claw its way up her throat. Tabitha had warned Enos never to marry? Was that why he’d been so distant? Surely that wasn’t the reason. Enos would never consider marrying Ada. She had given him entirely too much trouble, and he thought she was a horrible schwester . Tabitha was in no danger of having Ada for a daughter-in-law. “Enos loves you, though I don’t wonder but his love will grow cold if you can’t show him a little consideration. You treat him very badly, and he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve it , Tabitha. He is so good to you. He didn’t want you to go back to Pennsylvania because he knew Zeb and John would hurt you. He wanted to protect you, and you threw it in his teeth.”

Tabitha’s frown etched itself deeper into her face. “If I didn’t complain, no one would pity me.”

Ada took a deep breath. Truly wanting to understand this difficult woman, she asked. “Do you want people to pity you?”

“I want someone to care. Something horrible has happened, and no one cares.”

Ada had never felt so sorry for someone in her whole life. Tabitha’s eyes were dull, and she looked small and fragile in that hospital bed. “What is the horrible thing that has happened, Tabitha?”

“I got old,” Tabitha said, as if she was admitting to a terrible crime. She squeezed her eyes shut, no doubt to stop any tears that thought about escaping. “I’m useless to my children, and no one cares if I live or die.” Her voice cracked, and the tears trickled down her face.

It was the most honest, heartbreaking thing Ada had ever heard Tabitha say.

To Ada’s surprise, Cathy reached out and grabbed Tabitha’s wrist as if saving her from drowning. “That feeling of being old and worthless, it presses down on your chest until you feel like you can’t breathe. All day, every day.”

Tabitha studied Cathy’s face, and it was as if the pile of bricks she’d been carrying for years fell off her shoulders. She sobbed in anguish and sighed in relief at the same time. “Yes. That’s just what it feels like.”

Cathy sat there, holding onto Tabitha’s wrist. Ada closed her mouth and let silence overtake all of them.

Cathy handed Tabitha two more tissues, and Tabitha mumbled a quiet “Thank you.” It was the first time Ada had heard Tabitha say thank you for anything.

Cathy pulled her hand away and started rummaging through her purse again, though what she was looking for was a mystery. The only thing that might help Tabitha at this point was a fountain of youth. “So, Tabitha, what are you going to do now?”

Tabitha wiped her nose. “There’s nothing to do. Everyone would be better off if I were dead.”

Cathy’s eyes danced with amusement. “Oh, honey, if they want to stick you in a box, don’t volunteer to climb in.”

Tabitha drew her brows together. “You mean my coffin?”

“Not your coffin. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re too old for anything. You’re only useless if you think you’re useless. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

“But what good am I if I am no use to my family?”

“Never try to be useful to your family. My kids and grandkids love me because I stay out of their business and give them space to make their own mistakes. I don’t give advice unless it’s an emergency. The only thing I freely give them is love. Just love. And when my grandson Dewey was in a fight with his mom, guess who he called. When my granddaughter wrecked the family car, guess who she told first. They get nothing but love from me because love is the most powerful force in the world. It’s every grandma’s secret weapon.”

“But my sons don’t love me. They won’t let me see my grandchildren.”

“You have to sort of sneak up on them. They’re like Little Bo Peep’s sheep. Leave them alone, and they’ll come home. Don’t make them the center of your world because, like it or not, you are not the center of theirs. Once I figured that out, it was like someone turned on the light. I don’t need other people to tell me I’m useful. I already know it. I play pickleball, make quilts, watch Law and Order reruns, and go driving with Lon. And I enjoy my grandchildren. They are my reward for not killing their parents when they were children.”

Tabitha pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I . . . I can’t do it. It’s too hard.”

“Letting go of what your life used to be is the hardest thing you’ll ever do. But I promise you, the best is yet to come.”

Tabitha raised her finger. “‘Swear not at all.’”

Cathy cocked an eyebrow. “No more of your criticism. It only irritates people.”

Tabitha smiled, but the expression looked a little rusty. “I enjoy irritating you.”

“Well, I have a pretty thick skin, but don’t try it on anybody else.” Cathy glanced at Ada.

Ada nodded. “You know, Tabitha, you have one son who is hungry for your love. He would never abandon you, never treat you like John and Zeb have treated you.”

Cathy looked anywhere but in Ada’s direction. “Even if he married some beautiful and highly capable woman, you would always have a place with him and his family.” Cathy cleared her throat. “As long as you choose to be nice.”

Tabitha grunted. “Enos will never marry . . . he’s not good enough . . . he’s . . .” She stopped and narrowed her eyes at Cathy. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“If I do, you would put your son’s happiness over your own, because that’s what a good mother does. Then you’d get out of his hair by living your own life and staying out of that box.”

Tabitha threw up her hands. “You make it sound so easy, but I’m too old to change. I don’t know how to change.”

Cathy scolded Tabitha with her eyes. “You’re only too old if you think you’re too old.”

“First of all,” Ada said. “You need to quit starving yourself.”

Tabitha puckered her lips peevishly. “That was all for show. I like food too much to actually go through with it. I wanted Enos to suffer. I wanted them all to suffer.”

“Well, stop it. The only one suffering is you.” Cathy pulled a sandwich bag from her purse. “I stole this from the fellowship supper. It’s that sickly sweet church spread between two slices of homemade bread.” She handed the sandwich to Tabitha. “Then you need to find some hobbies. Do you knit or crochet?”

Tabitha took a bite. “Our church spread in Pennsylvania is creamier.”

Cathy slapped the bed. “Stop it.”

Tabitha made a face. “You don’t have to get so testy. I’m just stating a fact.”

“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. At the very least, keep your mouth shut.”

Tabitha took another bite of the not-creamy sandwich. “Back in Pennsylvania, I was considered a very good quilter. My stitches are so small, you need a magnifying glass to see them.”

Esther managed a small smile. “Then you’re invited to my house anytime you want. I’ve always got a quilt on the frames.”

“So do I,” Cathy said. “And I always have a bowl of suckers set out for my quilters.”

“Sounds delicious,” Tabitha said, a thread of sarcasm in her voice.

Cathy glared at Tabitha. “If you’re so picky, bring your own treat.”

Tabitha looked ten years younger than she had when they’d first entered the room. “I make wonderful-good shoo-fly pie.”

“I hate shoo-fly pie, but knock yourself out.” Cathy’s phone dinged, and she glanced at the screen. With greater speed than Ada would have thought possible, Cathy clutched her purse and jumped from her chair. “Enos and Clay are on their way. Let’s get out of here.”

Ada’s heart lurched. Enos mustn’t see any of them. “Please don’t tell Enos we came by.”

“Why?” Tabitha wanted to know.

“He told me to mind my own business.”

Tabitha cackled. “Good for him. Can’t have the gossips wagging their tongues.”

Ada grabbed Esther’s arm and they raced toward the door as if they both urgently needed to go to the bathroom.

Cathy pressed her hand to Tabitha’s arm. “I’ll be by your house tomorrow morning at eleven to pick you up for quilting, so you’d better be out of this hospital by tonight. Don’t let me down.”

Tabitha flashed her I-just-ate-a-lemon expression, but it appeared she was trying for a devious smile. “I’ll be out of here within the hour. You know how determined I can be when I want to get my way.” Tabitha took another bite of her sandwich. “The bread is dry. How do you expect me to eat this?”