An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler (56 page)

“Judy?” Matt took her by the arm to steady her. “Are you all right?”

Judy nodded, unable to speak. No, that couldn’t be what Kirsten intended. Mrs. Scharpelsen’s passing was too recent, Robert’s health too uncertain. Either way, Judy’s mother would never consider it. She had not even wanted to read Robert’s letter. To do even that would dishonor the memory of her husband.

“Judy?” Gwen said, alarmed. “Are you ill?”

The others, hearing Gwen’s words, looked up. “I’m fine,” Judy assured them, but to her dismay, they began to gather around.

Carol brought her a chair and maneuvered her into it. “Could someone please get her a glass of water?” she asked, pressing a hand to Judy’s brow and peering intently into her eyes. Summer nodded and ran off.

“Really, everyone, I’m fine,” Judy insisted. She almost laughed when Carol lifted her wrist and began taking her pulse, but it came out as a sob. “It’s late. I’m tired, that’s all. I’m not sick.”

“Let Carol be the judge of that,” Diane said.

“Have you been under stress lately?” Carol asked.

That was an understatement. “Maybe a little.”

“What’s wrong?” Bonnie asked.

“Yesterday I—” Then Judy fell silent. She looked around at her friends’ faces. They looked so worried, so concerned for her well-being. This wasn’t how she had wanted to tell them, but with everyone watching her, expectant and anxious, she had no other choice.

She took a deep breath and told them about the letter, and as she shared her worries, she felt them lessening. She had almost finished when Summer came racing back with a glass of water. Judy thanked her and drank it, as grateful for the pause in which to collect her thoughts as for the water itself. Then she told them that she wasn’t sure what to do next. Her thoughts were in such turmoil that she feared she’d never sort them out.

“Take all the time you need,” Gwen urged. “You don’t have a deadline.”

“But I do,” Judy said. “Kirsten hints that he’s in poor health. If I don’t see him soon, I might never have the chance.”

“That’s his loss,” Summer snapped. “He had all your life to see you. You don’t owe him anything.”

Everyone looked at her, astonished by the sharpness in her voice. Summer, who was usually as sunny and cheerful as her name, was sparking with anger. When Gwen sighed and put an arm around her, Judy remembered that Summer, too, had never known her father.

“Summer’s right,” Diane said. “He had his chance, years ago. Why is he so interested in seeing you all of a sudden? He probably needs a kidney or something. Well, I say don’t give it to him.”

“Diane,” Sylvia admonished.

“War can do strange things to a man,” Andrew said. “He made some bad choices in the past; there’s no denying that. Even so, maybe it’s time to forgive him.”

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Diane said.

Andrew shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s for us to decide.”

“Forgiving him and going to see him aren’t the same thing,” Sarah said. “Judy could just write him a letter. If she goes to see him, that might make everything worse.”

Carol made a strangling noise in her throat and sat down on the edge of the dais, her back to them. Sarah didn’t seem to notice.

Matt pulled up a chair beside Judy. “I think maybe I know a little of what you’re feeling. I don’t know why my mom took off when I was a kid, and I probably never will, but when I got older I finally realized it wasn’t because she didn’t love me. It wasn’t because I wasn’t good enough. Something in her just told her she wasn’t ready to be a mom, to have a family.” He rested his elbows on his knees, thinking. “If she wrote to me tomorrow … I think I’d go see her. I think I’d like to give her the chance to make peace with me and with herself.”

Judy nodded. Some of what he said made sense to her, but other parts simply didn’t fit. Unlike Matt’s mother, Robert Scharpelsen must have been ready for a family or he wouldn’t have raced off to Wisconsin to start one as soon as his tour of duty was over. And unlike herself, Matt had no reason to feel as if he would be rejected simply for who and what he was. Judy was
con lai
, a half-breed. Her American blood made her an outcast in the land of her birth, and her Asian heritage could earn her the same treatment from her white relatives. She didn’t know much about Robert Scharpelsen, but what she did know suggested that he probably thought of her as diseased wood to be excised from the family tree.

She was proud of who she was, but her pride did not blind her to the fact that some people considered her beneath them because of her ethnicity. Robert Scharpelsen could be one of those people. Why should she go see him so he could fling the acid of his prejudice in her face?

“Give him a chance,” Carol said, as if overhearing her thoughts. “He might surprise you. Maybe it wasn’t neglect that kept him from contacting you sooner than this. Maybe it was shame. He’s probably as nervous as you are, and he has just as much at stake.”

“We’re forgetting something,” Agnes said. “This isn’t about Judy’s father, and how he feels, and what he deserves or doesn’t deserve. He isn’t the one who wrote to her.” She turned to Judy. “This is about your sister. She wants to see you. Don’t punish her for what your father did.”

Her gaze was so imploring, so full of regret for her own missed opportunities, that Judy’s anger and confusion dissipated. Her thoughts became clear for the first time all week. She knew what she had to do. It was the only possible choice and always had been.

But before she informed Kirsten that she would be accepting the invitation, she had to speak to her mother.

First she told Steve, who didn’t seem surprised by her decision. “Do you want me and Emily to come with you?” he asked as they held each other in bed that night.

Judy thought of how proud she was of her family and how pleased she would be to show off her wonderful husband and her beautiful daughter. Surely, Robert would want to see his grandchild. But what if he rejected them both? Nowhere in Kirsten’s letter had she written that her father looked forward to seeing Judy. Maybe he didn’t want them to come.

Judy could bear his rejection; she was used to it. But she would not subject Emily to anyone’s contempt.

“I think it’s best if I go alone,” she told Steve.

“Maybe next time.” He shifted in bed and held her close to him. “Or maybe we can invite them out here.”

“Sure,” Judy said, though she didn’t want to think about a next time. One visit, one weekend, was difficult enough. She had to survive this initial meeting before she could contemplate building a long-term relationship with her father’s family. Besides, after her visit, perhaps neither side would want that.

On Saturday morning, while Emily was “helping” Steve work in the yard, Judy called her mother. Tuyet asked about Steve and Emily but said nothing of the letter. There was not even a hint of curiosity in her voice. Either she hid it well or she had truly put Robert Scharpelsen so far out of her thoughts that she honestly didn’t care what he had to say.

When Judy told her who the letter’s real author was, however, her mother grew excited. “I do not care about that man,” she declared, “but this, this is different. This is wonderful news. I always regretted that I did not give you a brother or sister, and now you have one.”

“I have more than one,” Judy told her, and read her the letter.

Tuyet remained silent for a long moment after Judy finished. Then she let out a heavy sigh. “What are you going to do?”

Judy had already made up her mind, but out of respect, she asked, “What do you think I should do?”

“You should cash in the voucher and use the money to come see me, instead.”

Judy erupted into peals of laughter. “Oh, Ma.” It seemed ages since she had laughed, and it felt as if iron bands compressing her chest had been released. “You know I can’t do that. I’m going to return the voucher to Kirsten. We can still come visit you later this summer.”

“So you aren’t going to Wisconsin. Good. That is the right decision.”

Judy hesitated. “Actually, I … I think I’m going to go.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I want to see my sister. You yourself said it’s wonderful that I have a sister. What good is having a sister if I refuse to see her?”

“Write her a letter or call her on the phone.”

“I’ll do that, too.” She would have to, she suddenly realized, in order to make arrangements for the visit. Nervousness stirred in her stomach. She wasn’t ready to talk to Kirsten yet.

“I see.” Her mother’s voice was crisp. “So this is how you respect the memory of your father. You try to replace him.”

“How can you say that?” she asked, shocked by the cutting words. Even after five years, her grief over her father’s death was as tender as a new bruise on her heart. “I’m not trying to replace Daddy. No one could replace him. That’s the cruelest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tuyet replied, uncharacteristically meek.

“I’m not going to see him; I’m going to see Kirsten. She’s the one who invited me.” Agnes’s words came into her mind. “I don’t think it’s right to punish her for what Robert did.”

There was a long pause.

“Bob.”

“What?”

“He called himself Bob, not Robert.”

Judy took a deep breath. “Fine. Bob it is.”

“Is that what you are going to call him when you see him?”

“I—I don’t know.” She couldn’t picture calling him Father, but Mr. Scharpelsen would be too stiff and formal. The thought of calling him Bob, the name her mother had used, didn’t feel right, either. Maybe if she was careful and creative she could avoid using his name altogether.

“Maybe he will tell you what to call him.”

“Maybe.”

“If you are going, why not use their voucher? Make them pay for the privilege of seeing you.”

“I want to pay for it myself.” She had to, she knew, or the Scharpelsens could never see her as their equal.

Her mother seemed to understand that, perhaps even to approve. Before she hung up, she wished Judy a safe journey. “I hope the visit goes well,” she said. “If it seems appropriate, give the family my best wishes. But only if it seems appropriate. Use your best judgment.”

“I will,” Judy promised, relieved that her mother had given the trip her blessing. Until that moment, Judy had not realized she sought it.

She hung up and went outside to join her husband and daughter. She shoved all thoughts of Kirsten and Robert out of her mind for the rest of that day and most of the next. When she returned from welcoming the new campers to Elm Creek Manor on Sunday afternoon, she went to Steve’s office to search the internet for airline and hotel information. A far more difficult task followed: writing a response to Kirsten’s letter. She struggled for hours to find the right words, the right tone. In the first draft she sounded chilly and reserved; in the second, too eager and grateful. After several revisions and a great deal of pacing, she settled on a simple, brief reply:

Dear Kirsten
,

Thank you for your recent letter and your kind invitation. I was pleased to learn that I have two sisters and a brother, and I look forward to meeting you soon. If it would work well with your schedule, I thought I could come the evening of Friday, May 8th, and stay until the afternoon of Sunday, May 10th. I hope the short notice will not be an inconvenience. Because of obligations at the college where I teach, my next available weekend will not be until July. If the later date would be better, please let me know.

I appreciate the generous offer of the travel voucher, but I plan to make my own arrangements. Perhaps you could use it to visit me and my family here in Pennsylvania sometime. I know my daughter, Emily, would love to meet her new aunt.

Yours truly
,

Judy DiNardo

She tried to sign the letter “Your sister,” as Kirsten had, but she couldn’t do it.

Kirsten responded by return mail. “I’m so glad you decided to come!” she wrote. “I can’t wait to meet you in person.” Her enthusiasm pleased Judy, who wished she felt the same. She was looking forward to the visit only in the sense that she was looking forward to getting it over with.

The Elm Creek Quilters supported her without fail, as they always did, but they showed varying degrees of approval for the trip. Diane and Sarah said nothing more about their misgivings, but their expressions revealed their reluctance. Gwen, Summer, and Bonnie told her they were certain the visit would go well. But it was Sylvia and Agnes who convinced her she had made the right decision. Privately, each told Judy that even if she never saw the Scharpelsens again, she would rest easier knowing she had made the effort. “You’re right to do this now, before it’s too late,” Sylvia said, and Judy’s heart went out to the older woman. She hoped Sylvia would find some comfort in knowing that Judy had learned from Sylvia’s mistakes.

That week, Judy proctored the final exams for her two classes and turned in her course grades. She planned her wardrobe and bought film for her camera. On Thursday afternoon, she dug out her garment bag from the back of the hall closet—and that was when she realized what border she would add to the round robin quilt. When she closed her eyes she could picture it so clearly that she wondered how she ever could have considered any other pattern.

She left the garment bag in the hallway and hurried downstairs to her basement studio, where she searched through her fabric stash for the perfect shades of green and blue and gold. She traced pieces and cut cloth at a feverish pace, too busy to think, too busy to worry. Before she knew it, Steve was calling down from the top of the stairs to tell her supper was ready.

Guiltily, Judy swept the quilt pieces into her sewing kit. Steve had let her work undisturbed all afternoon, caring for Emily in Judy’s place instead of writing. He had a deadline, too, but he had not complained.