Free Rebekah's Quilt by Sara Barnard Page B

shifted her position in the bed.
    Was it after Mrs. Yoder came up to check on Ma’s progress? No, she remembered Mrs. Yoder’s soft voice telling her that her mother’s labor was progressing slowly. She had claimed to be positive that it would be at least a few days longer before the baby would be making an appearance.
    Gently, Rebekah picked up the quilt piece and examined it. Her throbbing arm made it hang lopsided before her. She’d been working on it for what seemed like forever, but there was still so much that needed to be completed before it was finished. Rebekah glanced over into the bag, which contained more than enough squares to finish the quilt, before looking back to her handiwork. It simply didn’t look the way a quilt was supposed to look. Especially not like Elnora’s at this stage in the process.
    The stitches were crooked. Her own stitches made Katie’s look closer to perfect than hers ever had been. Her morning star pattern, which was constructed from pieces of dresses she had saved from her younger days, was off-center and uneven. Not even her squares were uniform. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to cut any two squares the same size. Even worse, the fabric was rumpled from constantly being shoved down into her bag.
    “At least I’ve finally gotten the knack of double-stitching so that my pieces actually stay together,” she muttered.
    Despite everything, the result was little more than a sad excuse for a quilt-in-progress. Rebekah yawned in the thick, damp air and leaning, placed her project on her bedside dresser.
    “Help, please,” a breathy voice managed from the hallway.
    “Ma?”
    Rebekah slid her legs over the side of her bed, easing them down until her feet met the hardwood floor. Her father had laid this floor expertly in just a few days’ time, or so she’d heard tale.
    Shards of pain sparked up her leg from her bad foot, making her stomach turn over. She choked on the yell that strangled in her throat as the rest of her body joined her feet on the floor. Tears blurred her wobbly vision.
    A strained groan came from the direction of her parent’s room.
    Rebekah shook the foggy stars from her head.
    “Standing up isn’t really an option,” she reasoned as she sat on the chilled floor that had moments before been her ally. She flexed her multi-hued ankle. “Nope, certainly not an option.”
    A series of pants echoed in the dark hallway.
    “I’m coming, Ma.”
    Ignoring the seeping dankness, she stretched out on the floor in her thin nightgown, Rebekah pulling herself along the smooth boards with her hands. She slithered to the doorway like a snake through the grass.
    Rebekah managed to navigate around the doorframe only to knock her head on something stationary that shouldn’t be there. “Ow!”
    Her mother’s labored breathing drew Rebekah’s attention from her own sudden pain.
    “Rebekah,” she rasped. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Rebekah’s head just met her nose. Hard.
    “Ma, are you okay?” The absurdity of that question filled the air. Of course her pregnant mother, lying here alone in the early morning darkness, was not okay.
    “The baby,” she started.
    Rebekah didn’t wait for her to finish. She scurried to her mother’s feet and paled at what she saw.
    By muted moonlight, it was obvious that the dark pool beneath her mother was blood.
    “Mrs. Yoder said the baby wouldn’t be coming for a while,” Rebekah stammered. She chewed the inside of her lip as the sea of churning thoughts attempted to push a coherent solution to this predicament into the forefront of her mind. It wasn’t working.
    Clear fluid puddled around her mother in stark contrast to the crimson stains. “Ahh,” Elnora gasped.
    “Something’s wrong,” Elnora said, the tension causing her words to break in unnatural places. “With the baby, something’s wrong.”
    The tears sprang up in Rebekah’s eyes without warning. “What Ma, tell me what’s