The Christmas Quilt. Patricia Davids

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       What was the cause of her blindness? Was it some inherited disease she didn’t want to pass on to her children?

       The Amish accepted handicapped children as special blessings from God. If she chose not to marry for that reason, then she wasn’t being true to her faith any more than he had been.

       Gideon pulled his knit cap lower over his brow. Nothing about the past could be changed. It was pointless to wonder what would have happened if he’d stayed in their Amish community. He’d left that life long, long ago. It was closed to him now.

       The past couldn’t be changed but he could help shape a better future for Rebecca. He was here to raise money for her, not to reminisce about unrequited love. As the bidding began on her quilt, he raised his hand knowing it didn’t matter what the quilt cost. He wasn’t going home without it.

       Rebecca couldn’t believe her ears when a bidding war erupted over her quilt. With each jump in price shouted by the auctioneer she thought it couldn’t possibly go higher, but it did. Higher and higher still.

       Who could possibly want to pay so much for a quilt stitched by a blind woman? She grasped her aunt’s arm. “Can you see the bidders?”

       “Ja. It is between an Englisch fellow and Daniel Hershberger.”

       “Daniel is bidding on my quilt?”

       Her aunt chuckled. “I told you the man was sweet on you.”

       The owner of a local mill that employed more than fifty people, Daniel was a well-respected Amish businessman. Although he was several years older than she was, he often stopped by to visit with her and her aunt. Rebecca shook her head at her aunt’s assumption. “I think you’re the one who caught his fancy.”

       “He doesn’t make sheep eyes at me when he’s sitting on the porch swing.”

       “I have only your word for that. I’m blind. What is the Englisch fellow like?”

       “It’s hard to tell. He’s standing at the back. He’s wearing a knit cap and a short leather jacket. He has dark glasses on.”

       “Is he young or old?” Rebecca wished her aunt had paid attention to the stranger sitting behind them earlier. Was he the one offering a ridiculously high price for her handiwork?

       “Not too young. He has a scruffy short beard that so many Englisch boys seem to like. He looks pasty, like he’s been ill.”

       It must be Booker. Rebecca smiled in satisfaction but her delight quickly faded. Was he bidding because of the quality of her work or because he felt sorry for her? It shouldn’t matter but it did. She didn’t want his pity.

       But if he wasn’t doing it out of pity, then why?

       A strange excitement settled in her midsection when she thought about his low, gravelly voice speaking quietly in her ear. There was something about him that made her want to know him better.

       The auctioneer shouted, “Sold!”

       As the room erupted in chatter and applause, Rebecca asked, “Who got it?”

       “The Englisch.”

       Rebecca stood up. “I must go and thank him. Can you take me to him?”

       “Let the crowd thin out a little. Everyone is hurrying to get gone because the weather is getting worse. Ester Zook said it was already starting to sleet when she came in.”

       Once Booker left the event Rebecca knew she’d never have the chance to speak with him again. “I don’t want to miss him. Please, it’s important to me.”

       “Very well. I see him heading toward the front where people are paying for their purchases.”

       Rebecca walked beside her aunt against the flow of people leaving the tent and wished Vera would move faster. What if he paid for her quilt and left before she had the chance to thank him? It was foolish, really, this pressing need to speak to him. She didn’t understand it, nor did she examine her feelings too closely. He was an outsider and thus forbidden to her.

       Before they had gone more than a few feet, she heard Daniel Hershberger’s voice at her side. “I’m right sorry I couldn’t buy your quilt, Rebecca. It was uncommonly pretty.”

       “It was, wasn’t it?” Vera replied, pausing to speak with him, to Rebecca’s dismay.

       “I didn’t get the quilt, but rest assured I have donated what money I can to your cause. I’ve already given a check to Bishop Zook.”

       Tamping down her impatience, Rebecca recognized Dan’s exceptional act of charity for the gift it was. “Danki, my friend. God will bless your generosity. If you will excuse us, I wish also to thank the man who outbid you for the quilt. Do you see him?”

      “Ja,” Daniel replied. “He is in line waiting to pay. Before you go, I wanted to ask both of you to supper this coming Sunday. Unless you have other plans? My sister is coming and she can cook a fine meal.”

       “We do not have other plans,” Vera answered before Rebecca could come up with a workable excuse.

       Daniel was a good man and a friend, but Rebecca couldn’t bring herself to see him as anything else. If her aunt was right and he wished to court her, he was in for a letdown.

       “Excellent. What time shall I expect you?” His delight was clear.

       Rebecca waited impatiently for the two of them to work out the details. She wanted to find Booker and speak to him before he left Hope Springs for good.

       She wanted to thank him, yes, but there was another reason. One she didn’t understand. She felt compelled to speak with him again. It didn’t make any sense but she had learned to follow her instincts when her sight failed her.

       Vera and Daniel continued discussing his dinner invitation. Suddenly, Rebecca couldn’t wait any longer. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go.”

       She unfolded her cane and moved forward, swinging it side to side as she went. Vera caught up with her. “Rebecca, what is wrong with you? That was rude.”

       “I don’t want to miss speaking to Mr. Booker. Do you see him? Where is he?”

       “Straight ahead of you, but slow down before you trip.”

       The line Gideon stood in moved quickly toward a set of tables where he could collect his expensive new quilt. He hoped they’d take a personal check. The bidding had far exceeded the amount of cash in his pocket. If they wouldn’t take his check, he’d have to use his credit card and hope it didn’t put him over his limit. This venture was foolhardy and expensive, but he was glad he had come.

       When he reached the table, he took off his glasses and hung them on his shirt pocket. “Do you accept personal checks?”

       The man at the table looked up and Gideon’s heart dropped when he recognized his cousin, Adam Troyer, beneath the wide-brimmed straw hat. He was ten years older and sported the beard of a married man, but there was no mistaking him. Gideon steeled his heart against the humiliation to come and prayed he wouldn’t СКАЧАТЬ