The Quilter's Daughter

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Authors: Wanda E. Brunstetter
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Being willing to apologize shows how mature you’ve become.”
    “Danki.” Nancy stood and started for the door, but turned back around. “Abby?”
    “What is it?”
    “I know you’ll have to return to Ohio after the boppli comes, but if I had my way, you’d stay with us forever.”
    Abby smiled, wishing it were possible to be in two places at once. At least I’ll sleep well tonight, she mused. I’ve written Lester a letter and had a heart-to-heart talk with Nancy. Tomorrow will be a good day.

    A mysterious dark cloud hovered over Abby Miller’s bed, pressing on her from all sides. Blinking against stinging tears, she drew in a ragged breath. An invisible hand pushed against her face, and she flung her covers aside. “ Ich kann nimmi schnaufe —I can no longer breathe!”
    Meow. Meow. Somewhere in the distance, Abby heard the pathetic cry and knew she must save the poor kitten. With apanicked sob, she rolled out of bed, but the minute her bare feet touched the floor she shrank back from the intense heat. A paralyzing fear wrapped its arms around Abby, threatening to strip away her sanity. She lifted her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes, forcing them to focus. “Where are you, kitty? I’m coming, kitty.”
    Suddenly, she realized that her room was engulfed in flames—lapping at the curtains, snapping, crackling, consuming everything in sight. As the smoky haze grew thicker and the fire became an inferno, Abby grabbed the Lone Star quilt off her bed and covered her head. Coughing, choking, gasping on the acrid smoke, she stumbled and staggered toward the door. “ Feier —fire! Somebody, please help me save the kitten!”

    Abby’s eyes flew open as she sucked in a shallow breath. She was drenched in sweat, and her throat felt raw, as though she’d been screaming. She glanced around the room and, seeing everything was as it should be, realized she had only been dreaming. “It was that same horrible dream about a fire,” she moaned.
    Abby clambered out of bed and raced over to the window. She lifted the dark shade and jerked the window open, breathing deeply of the early morning air. The sun peeked over the horizon, its delicate shades of pink graduating into a fiery red. A burst of air swept suddenly into the room, and she shivered. “Oh, Lord, why do I continue to have that awful dream?”

    Abraham stood outside the barn door, stretching his arms over his head and suppressing a yawn. He’d lain awake into the wee hours last night worrying about Fannie. Most days she had dark circles under her eyes, and her ankles were still slightly puffy, even though she had been following the doctor’s orders and resting much of the time. He had heard of women who developed toxemia during their pregnancy and knew it could be serious. When he’d mentioned his concerns to Fannie last night, she’d made light of it, saying she had cut salt out of herdiet and was sure that would help the swelling.
    “If it doesn’t, I’m takin’ her back to the doctor,” Abraham mumbled.
    “What was that, Papa?” Matthew asked as he led one of their mules out of the barn.
    Abraham’s face heated. “Nothin’. I was talkin’ to myself.”
    “You said something about going to the doctor. Does Fannie have another appointment today?”
    “No, but I’ll be takin’ her in if she don’t look better in a few days.”
    “Is she lookin’ poorly?”
    Abraham leaned against the side of the barn and groaned. “Haven’t ya noticed the dark circles under her eyes?”
    Matthew removed his straw hat and fanned his face with it a couple of times. “Can’t say that I have, but then I’ve had a lot of things on my mind lately.”
    “Yeah, like quittin’ work on the farm,” Abraham grumbled. “If you hate field work so much, how come you never said anything before?”
    “I don’t hate it, Papa. To tell you the truth, until lately I didn’t know I wanted to do something else.”
    “You think it could be runnin’ a

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