A Quilter's Holiday: An Elm Creek Quilts Novel (25 page)

Pausing provided her no rest, no respite. She bent her head to the wind and continued on.

Suddenly, a dim light faintly illuminated the trees ahead of her and she thought she heard the faint rumble of a motor beneath the wind. She strained her eyes, praying for a glimpse of Matt’s truck, but when she saw nothing she realized the sound came from behind her. Stumbling off the road, turning around, she saw headlights approach. Tim had come for her, she thought wildly, but the dilapidated car was not her husband’s. As it halted beside her, the driver lowered the window.

“Diane?” Jeremy shouted over the wind, astonished. “What are you doing out here?”

Diane was so relieved that tears sprang into her eyes. “The same thing you are, I think,” she called out, trudging to the passenger side as Jeremy leaned over to open the door. “Getting myself back to Elm Creek Manor where I belong.”

“I
SEE HEADLIGHTS
,” exclaimed Agnes from the breakfast nook window as the Elm Creek Quilters tidied up the kitchen after supper. “There’s a car coming over the bridge.”

“I hope this means Diane came to her senses and turned back,” said Gwen, visibly relieved.

“If you hadn’t taken your bad mood out on her, she might not have left in the first place,” said Agnes, with a hint of reproach.

Sarah joined Agnes at the window. “Diane’s been gone an awfully long time for it to be her.”

Anna peered through the window over the sink, the glass partially obscured by wisps of snow. “That’s not Diane’s car,” she said as the vehicle slowly made its way across the snowdrifted parking lot and shuddered to a stop. “It’s Jeremy’s.”

“I suppose the storm turned him back,” remarked Carol as she wiped a table with a damp dishcloth.

“Or Summer did,” said Sylvia, exchanging a knowing look with Gwen.

Loading the dishwasher, Anna tried not to look out the window again, but she stopped short when out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed two figures struggling through the drifts to the back door of the manor. “Someone’s with him,” Agnes cried out from the breakfast nook, just as Anna recognized his companion. “Oh, my goodness, it’s Diane!”

The Elm Creek Quilters set down dishcloths and dust-pans and brooms and hurried to the entryway—all save Anna, who methodically finished stacking dirty plates in the dishwasher, filled the chamber with detergent, locked the door,
and switched it on. Her heart pounded as she listened to her friends ushering Diane and Jeremy inside, their voices a cacophony of astonishment and concern. She overheard boots thumping on the mat, coat hangers jingling in the closet, and a hurried explanation of Diane’s car stuck off the road and a bitterly cold struggle on foot back to the manor that Jeremy’s timely arrival had mercifully cut short.

Anna put on a fresh pot of coffee as her friends returned to the kitchen, Diane and Jeremy at the center. Anna spared a glance for Jeremy, but her attention quickly shifted to Diane, who looked exhausted and frozen through. Gwen hurried off for quilts to throw around the newcomers, and at a questioning look from Sylvia, Anna assured her that hot coffee was coming right up.

Jeremy shrugged off the quilt Gwen tried to drape around him, explaining that he had been in a warm car most of the day and it was Diane who needed their attention. He kept trying to catch Anna’s eye, but she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. Why had he come back so soon? In their amazement over Diane’s story of her accident and rescue, no one had asked Jeremy how he happened to come along at that moment, and if the storm had deterred him from going to Chicago, why had he come to Elm Creek Manor instead of going home to his own apartment near campus.

“We should call your husband and let him know you’re all right,” said Sarah as Diane slowly warmed herself.

“Don’t you dare call Tim,” said Diane, alarmed, her hands still shivering as she clutched her favorite pink cappuccino mug. “He thinks I never left the manor. Why worry him now?”

“You’re going to have to tell him about the car sooner or later,” said Sylvia.

“Let’s make it later.” Diane sipped her coffee, closing her eyes. “I need to regain my strength.”

“The car might not be as bad off as you think,” said Matt, who had joined them in the kitchen when he saw Jeremy’s car pull into the parking lot. “I’ll check it out in the morning after the storm passes.”

“I’ll help,” said Jeremy. “When I stopped to see if anyone was in the car, it didn’t seem to me that it was seriously damaged, just stuck.”

“I’d rather know for sure before I call Tim,” said Diane, drawing the quilt tighter around herself. “He doesn’t know I was in any danger. Why ruin his evening?”

Sarah picked up the cordless phone and handed it to Diane. “Call him. Let him know you’re safe and sound. He’ll be more upset when he finds out you didn’t tell him right away.”

Sighing, Diane reluctantly took the phone and dialed her home number. Anna was torn between staying to support her and leaving the room to give her some privacy, but when no one else left, she too remained and finished wiping the countertops. Diane’s conversation was brief, and as far as Anna could tell, Tim cared only for Diane’s safety and barely questioned
her about the state of the car. He did seem surprised that Diane had left the manor in the first place, and that she had not mentioned her predicament during their earlier call, before her cell phone battery died.

“Lesson learned,” said Diane as she hung up and handed the phone back to Sarah.

“Let’s hope so,” said Gwen.

Before long, Diane announced that she felt much better and she’d prefer to finish warming herself by the fireside. As the Elm Creek Quilters set off for the ballroom to resume their quilting marathon, the men to watch football on TV, Anna found herself the last to leave the kitchen—and Jeremy waiting for her in the hall.

He waited for the others to round the corner. “You are not my backup plan,” he said emphatically.

“I know,” she said, looking away, pushing her long braid off her shoulder. “I’m sorry I said that. I was upset and I just blurted out stuff. It seemed right at the time, but now …” She took a deep breath. “If I could have this day to do over—” But it was too late. There was no going back, and she knew she had ruined everything.

He studied her intently. “Do you regret everything you said?”

“Well …” Anna hesitated. “Not everything.” As unwise and untimely as her confession had been, it was the truth, and it needed to be said. She could have worded it as an expression
of feeling rather than as an accusation, but she couldn’t unsay it. “What I regret most is saying that I didn’t think we could be friends anymore. I want to be, and I hope we can, but I’ll leave that up to you.”

She stepped past him and hurried off to join the other quilters.

T
HE
E
LM
C
REEK
Quilters worked until late into the evening, but Gwen couldn’t find a moment to speak with Diane alone until they were heading upstairs for bed. “How are you feeling?” she asked, pausing outside Diane’s door on her way to the room Sarah had prepared for her.

“Warmer,” said Diane from her seat on the bed, sorting through the bag of sample-size toiletries Sylvia had given her. “Stupid.”

Gwen folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “I’ll give you warmer, but I object to stupid.”

Diane glanced up, surprised. “Really? You? I thought you’d be the first to agree.”

“It’s not stupid to miss your family and want to be with them.”

“That’s not the stupid part. The driving through a snowstorm when they would barely notice my absence is.”

“Of course they noticed your absence.” Gwen entered the
room and took a seat on the bed beside Diane. They adore you. They couldn’t function without you.”

“Right,” Diane scoffed. “They’re getting along just fine, I’m sure.”

“They’d rather have you at home with them.”

“Yes, with my unwanted Thanksgiving Eve lasagna and my silly, age-inappropriate Christmas crafts.”

Gwen had no idea what Diane meant about the lasagna, but she couldn’t let the criticism of her Advent calendars pass unaddressed. “I’m sorry for what I said about your project. I think your boys will love them.” Suddenly Gwen imagined Victoria Stark shaking her head in disapproval of the perfunctory nicety. “What I mean is, they may not appreciate the calendars now, but someday they will. Maybe you should wait until that time arrives.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” said Diane, absently tracing and retracing a lavender triangle patch on the Corn and Beans quilt spread over the bed. “Someday they’ll appreciate all the traditions I’ve tried to pass along to them. I can’t force it, but I can hope that understanding will come in time.”

“Don’t ever lose hope,” said Gwen. “No matter what your misguided friends say. I was upset earlier today and I took my bad mood out on you.”

Diane rolled her eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“It’s no excuse, but I lost a good friend a few weeks ago.”

“The way you treat your friends, it’s a miracle you have any left.”

“No, I mean lost her, lost her. She died. Remember? I went to her funeral—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Diane. “I didn’t understand. I forgot. I wouldn’t have made a joke if I’d—”

Gwen couldn’t help smiling. “It’s okay. Victoria had a great sense of humor. She would have laughed.”

“Victoria.” Diane seemed to search her memory. “Wasn’t she your professor? The woman who came to quilt camp last summer?”

Gwen nodded. “She was my professor, but she was so much more than that to me. To many people.”

“I wish I’d known her better.” Diane reached out and clasped Gwen’s hand. “Tell me.”

Slowly at first, and then with increasing warmth and affection and liveliness, Gwen told Diane about her longtime mentor, how Victoria had taught and encouraged her, how she had battled her disease with courage and incredible inner strength, how her search for a bone marrow donor had led to the discovery of matches for so many others, and at last, one for herself. How Gwen intended to finish the quilt Victoria had begun for her donor, who in her grief seemed to think her generous gift of life had failed Victoria, when in truth it had granted her precious healthy years she might not otherwise have seen.

Diane held her when the flow of words dried up and her tears began to fall.

S
ARAH SIGHED WEARILY
as she climbed into bed and drew the quilts over her, watching Matt as he set crackers and a glass of water on her nightstand. When she had thrown back the covers that morning, she had anticipated a pleasant quilter’s holiday filled with fun and friendship, and for the most part she’d had that, but the day had also taken enough unexpected twists and turns to fill an entire month.

At least Diane and Jeremy had returned to the manor safely, her friends were comfortable and cozy in their guest bedrooms, and she’d finished her father-in-law’s quilt top. Working on it had given her time to contemplate Matt’s plans for the winter, as well as Gretchen’s kindhearted offer to fill in for him where she could. Surrounded by loving friends, Sarah would be perfectly fine while he was away, but there were limits to how much time apart she would endure, and he needed to know that. They each had to change their expectations and meet in the middle upon common ground.

“Matt,” she began as he climbed into bed beside her. “I understand that you need to help your father. I won’t like having you away so much, but I accept it.”

Matt rolled onto his side and stroked her from her shoulder
to her elbow and back, resting his hand upon her cheek. “Thanks, honey. I know it’s not the ideal situation, but I don’t have any choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Sarah reminded him. “And in February when the babies come, I’ll need you here.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss that for anything. You know that.”

She knew his intentions were good, but if labor came on suddenly and he was three hours away, he might not make it in time. “I know you want to be here, and you’ll plan to be here,” she said. “That’s what I want, too.”

“Then we’re okay, right?”

She wished it were that simple. “That’s up to you, depending upon what you decide to do after the babies are born.”

“I’m going to be here, obviously, with you and with them,” said Matt. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I need your word,” said Sarah.

“You have it.”

“Think it through before you promise, or it’s an empty promise,” she said. “Look, I don’t see how you and your father can be certain that helping him through the winter will be enough to save the business. He can’t know for sure whether his back will be better by spring.”

Matt inhaled deeply. “Well, okay, you’re right. There aren’t any guarantees.”

“If that happens, and if he can’t return to work, what are
you going to do? Save the business now only to watch it fail later?”

“That probably won’t happen,” said Matt. “Let’s not plan for problems that might never arise.”

“We have to plan for it, Matt,” Sarah insisted. “I know when the time comes, if the time comes, you’ll be conflicted. We need to plan ahead what we’re going to do if your father can’t resume working when you have to leave. We need to decide how to handle it if he pressures you to stay longer.”

Frowning, Matt sat up in bed and rested his elbows on his knees. “What do you want me to tell you, Sarah?”

“I want you to think it over carefully and be honest with me.” And she had to be honest with him. “I am not going to leave Elm Creek Manor. I love the life we’ve built here together and this is where I want to raise our children. But I know you want to please your father, and when he tells you he needs you, you won’t want to disappoint him.”

Matt shrugged, helpless. “It’s not simply a matter of disappointing him. It’s sitting back and watching his livelihood disappear.”

Sarah knew that, and it made what she had to say all the more difficult. “I understand, but if, after the babies are born, you decide to continue working for your father’s business, I’m not coming with you.”

Matt stared at her. “Are you serious?”