Christmas Visitor by Linda Byler Page A

wasn’t.”
    â€œYes, you were. I can tell.”
    And Ruth was wrapped in a compassionate embrace — never mind the odor of Mamie’s sweater or the fact that her headscarf had once been white but now appeared gray and its fringes were hanging in Ruth’s face. The love from her friend was the purest kind, bathed in glory.
    â€œAch, siss net chide (Oh, it isn’t right), Ruth. Komm, Lillian. Come to Mamie. Hiya! Vee bisht doo? (How are you?)”
    Sitting down, Mamie’s motherly hands explored Lillian’s head as she peppered her with caring questions, Lillian nodding or shaking her head no in response.
    â€œHiya, Benjy. You little corker! You’re growing! Ach, Ruth, such beautiful children. Hiya, Barbara. Did you just get out of bed? Hey, I smell laundry soap. Don’t tell me you washed already? If you did, I’m going straight home. Did you?”
    When Ruth nodded, Mamie grinned shamefacedly.
    â€œYou know what? I’m fat and lazy. I have to go home and wash and go on a diet. But, oh my, it felt so good to roll over and sleep till seven. Eph has a dinner down at Stoltzfus Structures, so he said he’d eat Corn Flakes this morning. He’s a wonder, that man.”
    She realized her mistake too late and clapped a hand across her mouth, her eyes widening in dismay.
    â€œRuth, I’m sorry. Here I go rambling on about my husband, and you having zeit-lang (loneliness and longing) for Ben. Don’t listen to me.”
    â€œNo, Mamie. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’m happy that you love your husband. It’s as it should be.”
    â€œOh, Ruth. I wish I could….Ach, I don’t know what I wish.”
    â€œHow’s Waynie?”
    â€œBeside himself with his teething. I put that teething stuff on, but it hardly makes a difference.”
    Ruth nodded. There was a space of comfortable silence as they sat, Ruth pondering the significance of Mamie’s earlier comment, and Mamie’s eyes drifting to the coffeepot, nodding her head toward it.
    Ruth put Benjamin in his high chair, made toast and scrambled eggs, and filled a plate for Mamie. Mamie said she wasn’t one bit hungry, but she managed to finish the last of the eggs as well as three slices of toast and two cups of coffee laden with sugar and milk.
    She stayed, of course, to help pin the quilt to the frame, saying she simply had to go home as Fannie had a sore throat and Waynie might need her.
    â€œHere, pull this over this way,” Mamie said around the pins in her mouth.
    â€œIs it crooked?” Ruth asked, realizing they’d have to unroll the whole backing of the quilt if it was.
    â€œStop pulling!”
    â€œWhich way?”
    â€œMy way!”
    â€œI’m not pulling!”
    â€œYes, you are, too. Here, you go give Benjy some cereal or yogurt or something. Let me do this alone.”
    Ruth laughed out loud and said over her shoulder, “Do it your way.”
    â€œYou know what? You may be a much better everything than I am, but you aren’t as good with quilts as I am. You can’t pull on the backing. You have to roll it in naturally.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œNow you’re schputting me!”
    â€œNo, I would never do that.”
    They both grinned, and Mamie took the pins out of her mouth and told Ruth she was closer to her than her own sister, that she was the best friend she ever had.
    Ruth told her about the boxes that had been appearing on her porch, and Mamie’s mouth started to wobble. Her blue eyes filled with tears, and she ran her hands across her large forearms and said it gave her chills.
    â€œWho could it be? I’m afraid whoever it is doesn’t realize how they’re spoiling us,” Ruth said, sitting down to spoon yogurt into Benjamin’s mouth, which he opened eagerly, like a ravenous little bird.
    â€œWho? Who would do something like that? Maybe a group of people. Maybe English