Free Kate's Song by Jennifer Beckstrand Page A

thoughtful for a minute. “You say you need experiences.”
    “Jah.”
    “Then come with me tomorrow to the rehabilitation center. Naomi and I volunteer there once a week.”
    “I don’t think Naomi will welcome my presence.”
    “Ach, that girl has had a bee in her bonnet since nineteen-seventy-three. Don’t mind her.”
    “Then I would love to come with you.”
    “Gute. I will pick you up at seven-ten. And don’t be late. Tardiness puts Naomi in a bad mood. And you don’t want to see her in a bad mood.”
    Kate laughed. Edna could summon mirth from a funeral gathering.

Chapter Eleven
    Dear Kate ,
    So, an interesting Amish guy? Is he hot? I will miss you desperately if you decide to be baptized, but knowing your disposition, you would be very happy there .
    Jared’s condition deteriorated this week. I am so frightened and upset. They still won’t let me see him, and his mother is demanding more time with Alex. How can I keep Jared’s mother away from my baby? I have never had the forgiving heart you possess. I hate his whole family. But I think of you and try to be kind. It hasn’t worked so far, but I am trying .
    If you come back to school in September, you’re welcome to live with me. My brother says he will pick you up and bring you to Milwaukee anytime you want. I think he has a crush on you .
    Maria
    Kate folded her letter and stuffed it into her apron pocket. But she brooded over its contents while she browsed the rows of quilts. She looked up as an Englisch couple in Bermuda shorts and sunglasses crossed the threshold of Martha Mullet’s quilt shop.
    “Take a look, Vivian,” said the man as he removed his floppy hat. “If you can’t find a quilt in here, you are the most persnickety person in the world.”
    Kate moved away from the new customers, losing herself deeper among the dozens of quilts hung in neat rows around the shop. There were a fair amount of quilt shops in Apple Lake—many Plain folk had stores attached to their homes or on their property—but none were as large or well-stocked as Martha’s. She carried quilts made by local Amish as well as inventory from as far away as Pennsylvania and Ontario. Her store sat in the heart of downtown Apple Lake—if four street corners could be classified as downtown—and attracted a plentiful tourist business.
    “Can I help you find something, Kate?” Martha adjusted a lopsided quilt on the hanger and glanced at the customers who had just entered her shop. “Before the crowds get heavy?”
    “Denki. Anna and I are making a baby quilt, and I am looking for ideas.”
    Martha pointed to the back corner of the store. “Any of our designs would make a nice baby quilt, but our smaller ones are over there if you want to take a look. I got a new pattern from my cousin in Lancaster that is a variation of the log cabin. So cute. Let me know if you need anything—although the afternoon rush is about to start and you might not be able to find me before nightfall.”
    Kate smiled. “I will manage.”
    Martha bustled over to the awestruck customers standing in the center of the shop. “Can I help you find a quilt?”
    Kate strolled up and down the rows of quilts, her eyes feasting on the vibrant colors. She marveled at the intricate appliqué designs, each so unique and so skillfully crafted. Appliqué was completely beyond Kate’s abilities. Just like she had told Sarah Schwartz—gute milking hands but unfit for quilting.
    What was she good at? She liked to garden and can and even do laundry. But what was she good at?
    The answer was obvious. She was good at singing. And in this community, they couldn’t care less. Sometimes she felt about as small as an ant on a watermelon.
    Her mouth twitched upward at the sight of a bright pink and green watermelon appliqued on a nearby quilt. Not always that small. During her visit to the rehabilitation center with Edna and Naomi, she sang opera songs to several patients, Amish and others, and got nothing