The Christmas Quilt: Quilts of Love Series Read Online Free PDF Page A

Annie approached their buggy.
    “Jesse. Mattie. Is everything all right?”
    Samuel was beside her by the time she’d reached the door and peeked inside. Annie could tell immediately that something was terribly wrong. Jesse lay back against the buggy seat. His breathing was shallow and his skin clammy and pale.
    “I’ll fetch my bag,” Samuel whispered. “Don’t attempt to move him.”
    “How long have you been here, Mattie?”
    “Maybe thirty minutes. We didn’t know where else to go. Jesse was having the pains again, so we waited for them to pass. When they didn’t . . .” Her hands came out and fluttered around as if she had no control over them. Though she was talking to Annie, her eyes never left her husband’s face. She seemed afraid to glance away, afraid to take her eyes off him even for a second. “I didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to get in the buggy, but I didn’t know what to do. I made him get in. Practically had to drag him. Was that the right thing to do, Annie? He won’t talk.”
    “You’re talking enough for both of us, woman.”
    Mattie was Annie’s height and still worked hard around her farm each day. She had added weight through the years, but her arms were strong. Annie had no trouble picturing her hitching up the wagon and driving it to their porch steps, before dragging Jesse up into it. How long would that have taken?
    Annie allowed a small smile. “It seems he hears us fine.”
    She angled around Mattie. “Jesse, I want you to lie down across the buggy seat. Can you do that for me?”
    The fact that he didn’t argue with her was a worry. What Amish man would lie down in the front of his buggy without protesting? If she had been compiling a chart, she would have written that Jesse’s appearance was similar to most men in their sixties who had the potential for heart problems. Though thin men certainly had heart problems, it seemed to Annie that often there was a particular shape, whether Englisch or plain. Jesse had it—the pear-shaped stomach and barrel chest. It was a stereotype, but as one professor had taught her, “medical stereotypes exist because they are often true.”
    Mattie’s hands fluttered over his chest, his beard, his cheeks. “Ohhh. Ohhh, he’s dying isn’t he? I know it. Oh, my sweet Jesus. He’s headed home.”
    “Mattie.” Annie automatically fell into the role of nursing. She kept her voice calm but firm. “Mattie, look at me.”
    Samuel was back. Annie had to pull Mattie out of the buggy so Samuel could squeeze in and use his stethoscope to check Jesse’s heart rate.
    “He’s dying, Annie.” Mattie’s voice rose to a near wail. “He promised never to leave me, and he’s dying.”
    “Mattie, I need you to help us. Can you do that?”
    The older woman swiped at the tears flowing down her face, pushed her hair back into her kapp, and nodded.
    “I need you to go into the house and wet a cloth. Wet two. Wring them out well so they’re not dripping and bring them back. Also, bring me a glass of water. Samuel will have some aspirin for Jesse to take and he might like a sip of water.”
    Mattie nodded but remained frozen in place.
    “We’ll stay with him, Mattie.”
    “What if he goes? What if he goes while I’m gone?”
    “We’re with him, honey. You go for the cloth. And don’t forget the glass of water.”
    As soon as Mattie was hurrying toward the house, Annie pushed her head back into the buggy. Samuel was crouched in the floor area and Jesse was still lying across the seat. “Heart attack?”
    “Appears to be. Jesse, how are you feeling?”
    “Not so gut .” He didn’t open his eyes, but his voice had gained some strength.
    “Blood pressure’s too low,” Samuel muttered. “Jesse, have you been prescribed any nitroglycerin pills?”
    Jesse shook his head no.
    Annie heard the front screen door to their house slam shut. She glanced up in time to see Mattie running toward them, running with the cloth and glass of