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here,” he said. “Just thinking about a quilt is more than I can take.”
    “But it won’t always be a hundred degrees, and we won’t always be in a drought.”
    “Why then, I suppose a quilt is an act of faith.” Willem stabbed at unyielding earth once more. It was not too far into summer to put in a few vegetables—something that did not require much water.
    “That’s exactly right.” Abbie folded the empty flour sack she had exchanged for Willem’s weekly ration of bread inside his cabin. “An act of faith. It’s going to be a tree of life quilt.”
    Willem chuckled. “The attraction of this land was that we didn’t have to clear trees before we could plant. Right now I could do with a bit of shade.”
    “It’s a beautiful pattern. I can make one tree for each of the twelve families in our settlement.”
    Willem nodded. It seemed unlikely the Elbert County settlement would attract more families anytime soon. He tipped his hat back and looked at Abbie full on. “And what will become of this quilt once it is finished? Will it be big enough for two?”
    That blush. That was the reason he said these things.
    She unfurled the folded flour sack at him. “You would like to think you’re deserving, wouldn’t you?”
    He grinned. “I’m just choosing my moment.”
    “And what excuse will you have when the fall harvest is over and it’s marrying season?”
    “Ministers are as scarce as trees out here.” Willem raised the shovel above his shoulders and let its point drop directly into the cracked soil.
    “Maybe you’d better start solving that problem now.”
    “There’s always Jake Heatwole.”
    He heard her gasp but refused to meet her eyes, instead scraping at the thin layer of soil he had managed to loosen. “What if it comes down to a Mennonite minister or no wedding at all?”
    “Aren’t you getting the cart before the horse? I don’t recall hearing a proper proposal of marriage.” Abbie folded the sack once again.
    “You know I’m irresistible.”
    “Willem Peters! That is the most prideful thing to say.”
    “Perhaps. But it is a legitimate question, considering we haven’t had a minister even visit us in a year to preach, much less baptize or marry.”
    “That’s not going to last forever. The drought will end. The settlement will grow. We will have a minister.”
    Willem wiped a sleeve across his forehead. He hoped she was right. He hoped the day would not come that he would have to tell her that the optimism had worn off his own faith.

    “Are you tempted to use some prints?” Ruthanna smoothed the folded blue apron one last time before handing it to Abbie.
    “Oh my, no.” Abbie clutched the apron to her chest. “I don’t want to use any fabric that our people would not wear.”
    “Some do, you know. Nothing too outrageous, but remnants or old skirts from the English .” Ruthanna sat in one of her four kitchen chairs and wished she had washed the morning dishes before Abbie arrived.
    In another chair, Abbie shook her head. “Not me. My tree of life quilt will be a symbol of our growing settlement. I don’t want the suggestion of anything English .”
    Ruthanna gave a small shrug. “You wouldn’t have to go all the way to the English . The Mennonite women are beginning to wear small prints.”
    “I wish them well in their own settlement, but I do not want their worn dresses.”
    “I wish I had more to give you. I only have three dresses. I feel I can spare the apron because I spilled ink all over it and couldn’t get it out. But there are plenty of unspoiled patches that will do fine in a piece quilt.”
    “Don’t feel badly,” Abbie said. “My mamm says it is time for her to give her quilt scraps to me anyway. If I have even one item from each of our households, the quilt will truly represent the settlement.”
    “How much do you have so far?”
    Abbie tilted her head to think. “I still need to go by the Millers’, but Mary promised me one of Albert’s old