Free Pennsylvania Patchwork by Kate Lloyd Page B

really I’m not.”
    â€œYou could have fooled me.” She felt like her mother had driven a jackhammer into her abdomen. She silently asked God for guidance. “I’ll write the man who sent these to verify he has the right Samuel.”
    â€œI’ll bet ya anything he’s got the wrong woman altogether,” Mamm said. “Not that I would ever bet, for betting is a sin.”
    â€œHolly would be sorely disappointed, but it might be for the best.”
    â€œIn the meantime, give them to me to put in the Daadi Haus in case someone stops by.”
    â€œNo, I promised Holly I’d look after them.” Her resolve to show them to Nathaniel was dwindling.
    Mamm bustled to the hearth, pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, and swiped the doll off the mantel. She pivoted to face Esther. “Now, give me the silk, too.”
    â€œPlease, Mamm, let’s not fight over this. I thought we’d come to a permanent truce, you and I.”
    â€œYah, we have, but I’m still your Mudder!” Mamm’s voice turned acerbic, but Esther was determined not to retaliate, no matter what. Esther thought of old western movies she’d watched on TV. A showdown is what they were having, but Esther wouldn’t overreact or be insolent to her mother. Yet she couldn’t let Mamm have her way.
    â€œI’m going to keep this with me.” Esther clutched the silk to her chest and raised her chin.
    â€œEssie, you’re disrespecting me!” Mamm lunged out, took hold of the fabric, and yanked hard. But her fingers turned rubbery and slipped. Esther’s mouth gaped open as she watched her mother’s torso twist and fall, her arms flailing. Mamm’s forehead struck the coffee table, toppling it over. Esther reached out, but too late to keep her from hitting the wooden floor.
    â€œMamm!” Esther stooped down. “Are you all right?”
    â€œYah, yah, fine as I’ll ever be.”
    â€œNo, you’re not. Your head’s bleeding.”
    Mamm wiped her forehead, then observed her bloodied hand. “’Tis nothing that a damp rag won’t fix.”
    â€œI should take you to the doctor. I think you need stitches.” The sight of blood usually didn’t bother Esther, but queasiness rippled through her stomach; she thought she might gag. She was tempted to use the silk to swab Mamm’s gash, but figured Mamm would be offended.
    â€œNee, I’m fine, I tell ya.”
    A rap-rap-rap-rap on the door startled Esther.
    â€œWho could that be?” Mamm said. “Hardly anyone comes to the front door.”
    â€œA salesman?” How would Esther explain the tableau: her mother sprawled out on the floor, the table on its side, the doll lying facedown. “I’ll ignore it.”
    Mamm tried to sit up, but couldn’t. “Ach, whoever it is heard us speaking and knows we’re home. Go see who’s there.”
    â€œAll right.” Esther hoped it wasn’t the bishop. No, he’d come ’round back. But she could use help getting Mamm to her feet and assessing her injury.
    Another knock, knock.
    A sense of urgency slithered through Esther. She tried to help Mamm, but her mother shushed her off. “Get the door.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Pretending I had no destination in mind, I glanced to the right, toward Nathaniel’s farm, and to the left and caught sight of Beth’s home, Zach’s pickup, and a splash of red, which I assumed was another automobile. I wished I didn’t care she’d not invited me over, or that she might be covering up for Zach, but I did.
    His tail flagging, Rascal turned frisky as we ambled along the dirt-and-gravel path at the side of the paved road. The mellow scenery of rolling hills, farms, and pastureland unfolded ahead of us.
    â€œWhere shall we go?” I said to Rascal, as if I were wandering aimlessly. He tugged to the left toward a squirrel scuttling up a tree on the