spend one's finaldays on earth.Farther down the hall, Katherine was surprised to see ayoung boy, gaunt and pale, sitting in a wheelchair. Hecouldn't have been more than eight or nine, and somethingabout him reminded her of Levi Beiler, Bishop John's son inHickory Hollow. Her heart went out to the child.., to allthe patients, and she was glad to offer her time and her ser-vices.At the end of the quick tour, she asked if she could dis-cuss the process involved in becoming a volunteer. "I'm veryinterested." "Sure. Come with me." Nurse Judah led her to a small
101
room where several nurses' aides sat, having coffee. "Would
you care for something to drink?"
"Water's fine."
Natalie let the water run before holding a clean glass under the spigot. "How have you been, Katherine... since Laura's death?"
"As well as you might expect. It's never easy losing a family member, even though my birth mother was someone I hardly knew." She remembered her manners. "How have you been?"
"Oh, busy as usual. I meet myself coming and going these days." Natalie handed her the glass of water, then motioned toward a vacant table in the center of the room.
Katherine sat down and took a sip, knowing how it felt to be that busy.., to fall into bed at night, completely exhausted from the day's activities. She'd grown up that way, getting up nearly as tired as she'd gone to bed. But those days were far behind her now.
"I was hoping I might be able to help out with your younger patients," she offered.
Natalie seemed pleased. "Client volunteers are always welcome. We do offer a concentrated two-week training program, and an interview is required along with an application."
"I'll be glad to do whatever is required."
Natalie poured herself a cup of coffee. "We're shorthanded at the present time, so I can set you up with the screening right away."
"Thank you. It means an awful lot to me." Katherine felt out of control suddenly, an unexpected lump forming in her throat.
"Are you all right?" Natalie's gaze narrowed, and she reached over to cover Katherine's hand with her own.
"I'm looking forward to getting out around people again," Katherine admitted. "The mansion, as big as it is, is
102
quite confining at times. I don't know how to explain it, really."
Natalie seemed to understand. "Yes ... I imagine it would be, by contrast."
"I'm also thinking of starting a quilting class. I want to set up frames in the manor library. Know of anyone who might be interested?"
Natalie's eyes grew big. "Are you serious? You're going to teach traditional Amish quilting patterns?"
"Beginning with the popular Ninepatch and working our way up to one of my favorites--the Country Songbird," she replied, growing more excited about the idea as she watched Natalie's face.
"Count me in. When do we start?"
"Right away. As soon as I can round up a frame or somebody to build me one."
Natalie blew on her coffee. "I know" of several Amish settlements in and around Canandaigua. Someone from our fund-raising committee might know who does that sort of thing."
"Really?"
"Oh, absolutely. One of the reasons is that we have specially handmade quilts--some are Amish-made, I believe-- displayed on the wall in each patient's room."
She'd never thought of doing such a thing with a quilt, though she could see why English folk might choose to. "What a nice way to decorate."
"Oh, it certainly is. Quilts are warm and cheery; often tell a story. We even have a few with the creators' names sewn right on the individual squares.., really lovely."
They talked more about Katherine's idea to offer a class for beginning quilters at Mayfield Manor. Natalie's response was so surprisingly positive, Katherine felt spurred to act quickly. Along with her volunteer work at the hospice, the quilting class would help crowd out nagging thoughts of
103
Dan. Such a wonderful-good plan it was.
On the return trip, Theodore slowed the limousine to a stop in front of the post office, waiting for a red
101
room where several nurses' aides sat, having coffee. "Would
you care for something to drink?"
"Water's fine."
Natalie let the water run before holding a clean glass under the spigot. "How have you been, Katherine... since Laura's death?"
"As well as you might expect. It's never easy losing a family member, even though my birth mother was someone I hardly knew." She remembered her manners. "How have you been?"
"Oh, busy as usual. I meet myself coming and going these days." Natalie handed her the glass of water, then motioned toward a vacant table in the center of the room.
Katherine sat down and took a sip, knowing how it felt to be that busy.., to fall into bed at night, completely exhausted from the day's activities. She'd grown up that way, getting up nearly as tired as she'd gone to bed. But those days were far behind her now.
"I was hoping I might be able to help out with your younger patients," she offered.
Natalie seemed pleased. "Client volunteers are always welcome. We do offer a concentrated two-week training program, and an interview is required along with an application."
"I'll be glad to do whatever is required."
Natalie poured herself a cup of coffee. "We're shorthanded at the present time, so I can set you up with the screening right away."
"Thank you. It means an awful lot to me." Katherine felt out of control suddenly, an unexpected lump forming in her throat.
"Are you all right?" Natalie's gaze narrowed, and she reached over to cover Katherine's hand with her own.
"I'm looking forward to getting out around people again," Katherine admitted. "The mansion, as big as it is, is
102
quite confining at times. I don't know how to explain it, really."
Natalie seemed to understand. "Yes ... I imagine it would be, by contrast."
"I'm also thinking of starting a quilting class. I want to set up frames in the manor library. Know of anyone who might be interested?"
Natalie's eyes grew big. "Are you serious? You're going to teach traditional Amish quilting patterns?"
"Beginning with the popular Ninepatch and working our way up to one of my favorites--the Country Songbird," she replied, growing more excited about the idea as she watched Natalie's face.
"Count me in. When do we start?"
"Right away. As soon as I can round up a frame or somebody to build me one."
Natalie blew on her coffee. "I know" of several Amish settlements in and around Canandaigua. Someone from our fund-raising committee might know who does that sort of thing."
"Really?"
"Oh, absolutely. One of the reasons is that we have specially handmade quilts--some are Amish-made, I believe-- displayed on the wall in each patient's room."
She'd never thought of doing such a thing with a quilt, though she could see why English folk might choose to. "What a nice way to decorate."
"Oh, it certainly is. Quilts are warm and cheery; often tell a story. We even have a few with the creators' names sewn right on the individual squares.., really lovely."
They talked more about Katherine's idea to offer a class for beginning quilters at Mayfield Manor. Natalie's response was so surprisingly positive, Katherine felt spurred to act quickly. Along with her volunteer work at the hospice, the quilting class would help crowd out nagging thoughts of
103
Dan. Such a wonderful-good plan it was.
On the return trip, Theodore slowed the limousine to a stop in front of the post office, waiting for a red
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