The Quilting Circle

Book 7: Wells Landing Romance

by Amy Lillard

Genres: Historical Fiction

Synopsis

United by faith, and bonded by their quilting circle, the Amish women of Wells Landing, Oklahoma, are there for one another through all life's joys and challenges . . .



Youngest quilter Clara Rose Yutzy is planning her wedding to her longtime beau—which is why she resolutely ignores newly warm feelings for her best friend, Obidiah. But Obie is certain God intends them to be together. With the Lord's help, he'll prove to Clara Rose how much he loves her . . .



Mariana Miller prayed for a child throughout fifteen years of marriage. But now, newly widowed, Mariana discovers she's pregnant—with twins! She's more grateful than ever for her caring community—especially Reuben Weisel, her late husband's business partner and best friend. Reuben's quiet strength comforts her—until he proposes marriage . . .



Tess Smiley is new to Wells Landing and newly married. But her marriage isn't the harmonious union she envisioned. Tess loves Jacob with all her heart, but her heart tells her she must take a stand—and ask for support. Only then does Jacob see how he has hurt her. But is he too late? . . .

Release date: October 31, 2017

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

Clara Rose Yutzy pulled the buggy to a stop and set the brake. “She’s a good horse indeed, Mammi.”

Her grandmother smiled. “I got her at the Clarita auction.”

“I know, Mammi. I was with you, remember?” Clara Rose slid from the buggy. Her grossmammi was as sharp as a tack. Of course she remembered. Mammi just wanted the reinforcement that she had gotten an excellent animal when she bought the retired thoroughbred.

“She’s a beauty, huh?” Her mammi got out as well, smiling to herself as she patted the shiny roan on the rear.

“That she is.” Clara Rose slipped her arms out of her black sweater and folded it across her arm. It was warm for early October, but that was the way of Oklahoma. It seemed, come fall or spring, she always carried a sweater whether she thought she would need it or not. The weather was so unpredictable it was certain if she didn’t have one she would most certainly need it.

“It’ll be fun to get started on a new project, jah?” Mammi pulled their basket of materials from behind the buggy seat and hooked it over one arm.

Though she was nearing sixty, Verna Yutzy had a spring in her step and a sparkle in her eye that Clara Rose had forever admired.

Verna attributed her glow of happiness to her longtime marriage to Clara Rose’s grandfather. Abraham Yutzy had gone to his reward the year before, and yet Verna plodded on. Secretly, Clara Rose felt that her grandmother was enjoying life on her own. It was really no matter to her. All she cared about was that her grandmother was happy.

“Do you think Helen and Emily will be here?”

“Maybe,” Mammi replied.

Clara Rose unhitched the horse, even as her gaze searched the yard for Emily Riehl’s familiar buggy. She always enjoyed spending time with her friend. Though they weren’t in the same buddy bunch when they were running around, Wells Landing wasn’t that large, and everyone knew everyone else.

She turned the horse free into the pasture, watching as her grossmammi’s favorite new beast snickered and approached the other horses already there.

“Verna, Clara Rose, come in, come in,” Eileen called from the front porch. “You’re late.”

Verna shook her head. “Five after is not late, Eileen Brenneman. Keep your apron on. We’re coming.”

“You’ve been racing that new horse on the back roads.”

Verna shook her head, but her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Just because she’s a former racehorse doesn’t mean Daisy Lane wants to run any faster than necessary these days.”

Clara Rose hid her smile. Her grandmother’s new buggy horse was a retired racehorse from Tulsa. The owner had donated her to the Clarita School Auction, and her grandmother had snapped the beautiful beast up as quickly as she could. Frankly, Clara Rose thought her grandmother had paid a bit much for the horse, but she knew that Mammi got a secret thrill out of owning a retired racehorse for a buggy horse like some of the folks in Holmes County did.

“I brought sugar cookies,” Clara Rose said as she climbed the porch steps.

“Set them on the table with the rest. We’ll quilt for a while, then we’ll eat.”

Verna led the way into the large room off to one side. The house had been converted from an Englisch house to an Amish house, and the rumor around town was that the room had previously been the owner’s car garage. Now it held several large chairs. After their quilt squares were all complete, they would sew them together, then bring out the quilting frame to finish the job, but that wouldn’t be for a month or so.

Clara Rose slipped into the seat next to her good friend Tess Smiley. Tess gave her a shy smile, then ducked her head. The girl really was the prettiest person Clara Rose had ever seen. Maybe even prettier than Lorie Kauffman. Though these days Clara Rose hardly recognized Lorie when she came to town, not since she’d turned Englisch.

“This should be fun, jah?” Tess said.

Clara Rose gave a small nod. “I was here last year. It was a lot of fun.”

Their circle was the kind that met year-round, unlike some that only quilted in the wintertime due to the extra summer work of planting, farming, canning, and the like.

Tess gave a small nod. Everyone pulled out their needle and thread and started to work. The twenty-five-block square of beautiful pinks and corals would surely fetch a good price at the school auction next year.

The sewing group had been donating quilts to the Clarita School Auction for as long as Clara Rose could remember. And to be part of such a long-standing group gave her a secret thrill. After every meeting, she had to say a little prayer of forgiveness for her prideful nature in the beautiful quilts that they made.

“How much longer till the wedding?” Fannie Stoll asked. Was that a bit of jealousy she heard in Fannie’s voice? The poor girl was nearing thirty with no prospects. It had to be hard on Fannie to see all her friends get married, while she was the only one who remained single. There was nothing wrong with Fannie. She was pleasing to the eye and a good cook. So why no man had scooped her up and married her by now was anybody’s guess. Only the Lord knew.

“Six weeks,” Clara Rose said. Her heart gave a little pound at the thought. In six weeks, she would marry Thomas Lapp. She would be Clara Rose Lapp. Marriage was something she had thought about for a long time. Not just the past year while she and Thomas dated nor the past nine months or so since they had announced their engagement to the community. Long before that. Back before she had even met Thomas. She had prayed and prayed for God to send a special man just for her, and He had. Now soon, so very soon, her dream would be a reality. She could hardly wait.

As she stitched, her mind wandered into daydreams. What would it be like when they moved into their own house? Would the garden be on the left or the right-hand side of the house? Would the barn be painted red? She hoped so. She also wanted chickens so she would have fresh eggs every day and a garden plot just for tomatoes because she loved them so much. She would can whatever was left over in the fall, come to quilting circle and make quilts, and she would change her church cape from black to the color of her dress, signifying to everyone that she was now a married woman. That thought thrilled her more than thinking about the upcoming November day when she would pledge her life to Thomas.

The other women began to talk around her, as her mind continued to wander. She could hardly wait to be married. She knew it might seem a little silly to some, a little overly joyous, but all she’d ever wanted to be was somebody’s wife. She looked over to her grandmother, who sat across from her, chatting with Eileen. Her own parents were a sure testament to how to make a marriage work. Most people felt that Amish marriages were destined to succeed. She’d heard the talk in the grocery store, down the aisles of the market, but she knew how hard it was for people to make a good marriage. Her parents had made a good marriage, her grandparents had made a good marriage, and that was all she wanted for herself.

“Do you have your material picked out and your dress made already?” Eileen asked.

“Jah, of course.” That had been done long ago. So why was Eileen asking?

“If you need any help, we could always work on some of it here,” Mariana added.

Clara Rose shook her head. “Oh no, that is such a generous offer. But I wouldn’t dream of taking the time away from making the quilts for the auction to do something like sew my wedding dress.” As important as it was to her, helping others topped her own wedding by miles.

“I heard that you were thinking of taking in foster kids, Mariana,” Verna said.

Mariana shook her head. “No. Not now.”

Clara Rose wondered if the information was incorrect or merely outdated. She had been coming to the quilting group long enough to know that Mariana wanted a baby so very badly, but now she was in her forties and her husband was very sick. Ill enough that she had heard rumors that he had already had someone make his funeral clothes. But Clara Rose would never dare to ask. It was just too personal. Since his illness, Mariana had completely given up the idea of having children. At least she didn’t talk about it these days like she had before.

“It was me.” Eileen’s words sent the group into utter silence. The only sound was the whir of the ceiling fan that was powered by the solar panel on the roof.

“You did?” Mariana asked.

“Well, sort of.” Eileen stopped stitching and twisted her fingers together before dropping them into her lap. “I’m thinking about adopting.” Like Mariana, Eileen was over forty and childless. The two women seemed to huddle together whenever they met, and Clara Rose wondered if it was this childless phenomenon that brought them together as friends. She knew there was a buddy bunch of childless couples, though she knew no more than that. They were a lot older than she was, of course. What they did at their meetings was their business. Not hers.

“That’s wonderful,” Tess said. Her words seemed to break the spell that had descended on the room, and everyone started stitching again except for Mariana. She just stared at her hands.

“You are?” Mariana said. Clara Rose chided herself for examining the two words for any hint of jealousy. Every night, she prayed for Mariana. Not for her to have a baby, but for her to have peace over her husband’s illness. Clara Rose couldn’t imagine what would happen if Thomas were to fall ill like Leroy had.

Her lips trembled, and Clara Rose said a small prayer of forgiveness. She had been so wrapped up in her own issues—the wedding, getting ready for the wedding, sewing dresses, and planning menus—that she hadn’t thought much about Mariana and Eileen and how different their lives were from how she pictured hers. She wanted as many kids as she could have. Didn’t every Amish woman? Little girls and little boys. Little Clara Roses and little Thomases all running around barefoot in their outfits made from matching fabric. She could almost see them chasing a herd of puppies through her coveted chickens. It was an idyllic fantasy and she knew it. But that was how she wanted to picture her life.

They continued to quilt and chat though the conversation seemed to turn to the lighter side. Maybe no one wanted to bring up weddings and children anymore. It seemed that both topics were a little bit weighted for some of their members.

“I was sure hoping to see Emily this afternoon” Clara Rose said.

“Their buddy bunch planned a day trip to Tulsa. Seems there’s some big market at the fairgrounds and they all wanted to go and shop,” Fannie said. She made a face that said she wouldn’t want to go do anything like that, and Clara Rose wondered if the expression was sincere.

“And Helen stayed home to take care of the baby.”

Emily’s little girl could hardly be called the baby. Maybe a toddler, and Clara Rose wondered when she and Elam might have another. They were very good parents. And she loved to see them when they came to church.

Helen and Emily had both been steady members of the quilting circle, but in recent months it had become harder and harder for the two of them to attend. As the bishop’s wife, Helen always had a full plate and since Emily had married Elam, her time had grown precious as well. Elam’s father, James, had been kicked in the head by an ornery milk cow a few years back and needed special care. He was much better these days, but he had limitations to deal with. Limitations that affected his entire family. Clara Rose knew it had to be hard on them all.

Eileen tied her thread in a knot, cut it down low, then stood. “I don’t know about the rest of you,” she started, “but I’m hungry. Is everyone ready to eat?”

A round of “jahs” went up around the room. Everyone tied off their threads and prepared to snack.

Clara Rose grabbed a paper plate and piled it high with the cinnamon buns Eileen had made, one of her own sugar cookies, and the seasoned pretzels Tess had brought, along with two slices of cheese, a scoop of the pizza casserole, and a couple of bread and butter pickles that she knew for a fact had come from Fannie’s mom’s cellar.

“If you eat all that, you’re not going to be able to get into your wedding dress come November.”

Clara Rose whirled around, her hand pressed to her heart. “Obadiah Brenneman! You scared the life out of me.”

Obie smiled, his green eyes twinkling. “That was not my intention.”

“It is a sin to lie, you know. Don’t make me go to the bishop.”

His grin widened at her feigned anger. Though he had surprised her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“This is my aunt’s house.”

Clara Rose took a big bite of the cinnamon bun and set it back on her plate before licking her fingers. “Yes, I do know. But what are you doing here during our quilting circle?”

Obie glanced around as if looking to see if anyone was paying them any attention. Only Fannie seemed to notice that Obie had come into the house. Everyone else was still milling around filling their plates.

“I was hoping I might talk to you.”

Clara Rose nodded. “Jah, okay.” She waited for him to start.

But Obie shook his head. “Not here. Maybe I could take you home this afternoon.”

Clara Rose shrugged. “I guess so. I came with Mammi.”

Obie relaxed a bit. Until that moment, Clara Rose hadn’t realized how tense he was. He straightened up again. “Okay. That’d be good. Okay.”

What was wrong with him?

Before Clara Rose could ask, he grabbed the plate and started filling it with the treats. Once he neared the table, the rest of the women noticed he was there. Everyone had to stop and talk to him, ask how things had been going, if he had any new golden retriever puppies, and if his twin brother, Zebadiah, was ever going to come back from Pinecraft and join the church.

Clara Rose watched as he talked to each woman in turn, then glanced back at her as if something was on his mind.

He had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. Her own mother and Eileen, Obie’s aunt, had been the best of friends growing up. She’d never experienced a time when she didn’t know Obie. And she had come to depend on his crooked smile and perpetually messy black hair. He was as handsome as God made them, but he showed no interest in dating. Or at least none that he told her about. They were such good friends Clara Rose was sure that she would be the first one he would tell—aside from the girl, of course—when he finally fell in love.

“Something’s up.”

She whirled around, caught off guard for the second time in less than fifteen minutes. “Tess.”

“What are you daydreaming about?”

Obie’s name sprang to her lips, but she managed to keep from saying it out loud. It didn’t sound proper to be daydreaming of Obadiah Brenneman when she was so close to marrying Thomas Lapp. But most people in these parts knew what good friends she and Obie truly were. Even Thomas was understanding of her unusual relationship with Obie. Lifelong friendship was a true gift from God, and no one should take it for granted.

“Nothing,” Clara Rose mumbled.

Tess shot her a knowing look.

“You don’t believe me?”

Shaking her head, Tess went back to the table for another cookie without responding.

“Mammi.” Clara Rose approached her grandmother from the side, as she talked to Mariana. The woman still wore that same dazed look she had when Fannie had asked her about foster children.

“Yes, dear?” Mammi asked.

“I’m getting a ride home with Obie. Is that okay?”

“Of course, dear.”

“I’ll see you at home. And don’t drive too fast, jah?”

Her grandmother only chuckled.

“For someone who wanted to talk, you sure aren’t saying much,” Clara Rose said. They had been riding in the buggy for almost twenty minutes, and Obie had yet to tell her what was on his mind. And there was something on his mind. Clara Rose could see it. His shoulders were tense, and the muscle in his jaw was jumping like a bullfrog on hot tin.

“It’s not Zeb, is it?”

“No. Zeb is fine. Do you mind if we go out to Millers’ pond?”

She frowned. “What’s at the pond? No one’s there this time of year.” It had been warm lately, but not warm enough to get in the water.

Obie shook his head, but she noticed he had turned his tractor toward the Miller place.

But still he didn’t talk as they chugged along. He’d said nothing was wrong with his brother, but something was definitely amiss. Obie was normally bright and bubbly, full of laughs and jokes and mischief. But today it seemed as if a dark cloud had descended on his personality and was raining on his normally jovial spirits.

Whatever it was, she would have to wait to find out, though. He seemed intent on reaching Millers’ pond before he let her know exactly what was on his mind.

In no time at all, they had pulled to a stop in front of the crop of trees that sat in the middle of the Millers’ cornfield. A well-beaten path led from the road at the edge of the field and into the trees, where the pond hid like an undisclosed oasis.

Obie came around to her side of the tractor and helped her down. But he was still acting strangely, jerking away from her as if her touch had burned him. Had he always been like that? Was she just hypersensitive to the fact that he was acting strange now? “Do you want your sweater?” Obie asked.

She nodded. It was warm enough out here, but once they got into the trees it would be much cooler by far. Fall was definitely upon them. Obie handed her her plain black sweater. She folded it over her arm, but was careful not to let it snag on the fence as they ducked through it into the cornfield.

But she was oh so aware of Obie walking behind her. It was strange, for she had never felt this way before. Was it because he was acting so weird? Or was something else happening today?

He didn’t say a word, just followed behind her as they walked to the crop of trees.

The pond wasn’t huge by any stretch of the imagination. Just big enough to allow the kids a place to cool off in the summertime. It boasted a thick rope swing, though everyone knew to be careful jumping in. The pond wasn’t deep enough to support too many antics.

Clara Rose walked into the clearing and over to a fallen log. How long the tree had lain there was anybody’s guess. But it had become a customary seat for the pond’s visitors.

She folded her arms under her sweater and waited for Obie to tell her what was on his mind. Her heart started to pound in her chest, as if what he was about to say was going to change both of their lives.

Obie took off his hat and twirled it in his hands as if he needed something to do to disperse the nervous energy coursing through him. “Uh . . .” he started, but those green eyes darted to everything around but her.

“Obie,” she started, “you’re scaring me. Is everything okay?”

He stopped running his hat and trained his suddenly hard gaze on her. “No, everything is not okay.” He practically yelled the words.

She’d never seen him like this, angry and agitated. She jumped to her feet. “What’s happened? Please,” she beseeched him.

“I can’t let you marry Thomas Lapp.”

Clara Rose’s mouth went instantly dry. “What?” She licked her lips to no avail. “What are you saying, Obie?”

He started that hat-twirling thing again. “I’m saying that I’ve kept silent for too long. And I can’t see letting you marry Thomas.”

Clara’s heart kicked up another notch. It beat like the bass drum in the marching band they had each year in the Christmas parade.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “You just can’t marry him is all.”

Clara stared at him, unsure of what to say. “Did he do something? Does he . . . love someone else?” The words were painful to say. How could he love someone else? She had known they were going to get married ever since the first time she had seen him. They had naturally fallen into friends the minute they met, but she knew they weren’t friends like her and Obie. Theirs was a different kind of friendship.

She and Obie had been friends for so long, his friendship was like a warm winter coat to wrap herself in and keep her snugly always. But Thomas was different entirely. It was a more mature feeling. She knew he was going to take care of h. . .