Elm Creek Quilts [07] The Sugar Camp Quilt (33 page)

“I will allow my conscience and not public opinion to determine which, for me, is the right side.”

“Suit yourself. But be careful. It is not wise to make enemies of your betters. Think on Miss Nadelfrau.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled coolly. “Is the schoolhouse so cozy that you no longer care about the happenings in town? Or is Mr. Nelson such pleasant company that you no longer visit Mary to catch up on your gossip?”

“What has happened to Miss Nadelfrau?”

“I leave that to you to discover. If you are wise you will take a lesson from her example.”

The ferry reached the northern shore of Elm Creek. Untying his horse’s reins, Cyrus added, “Despite our disagreements, I still care about you, Dorothea. If I had the carriage, I would offer you a ride.”

“If you offered, I would decline.”

His eyes snapped in anger. “Apparently it will be impossible for us to be friends after all.”

Dorothea made no reply. Cyrus led his horse from the ferry and rode off at a gallop without a backward glance.

D
OROTHEA REPEATED
C
YRUS’S CRYPTIC
remarks about Miss Nadelfrau to her parents, but they were just as mystified as she. They were less shocked to learn of his deception than she had been, though, and more incensed by his veiled threats. When Dorothea proposed that they warn the Wrights immediately, however, Lorena assured her that Cyrus was unlikely to persist in his plan to frighten the couple off their land, now that he had been exposed. Dorothea worried that the erratic Mr. Liggett might act on his own, but she agreed that informing the Wrights could wait until the following week, when they planned to meet in town to swap Lorena’s sweet potato seedlings for some of Abel Wright’s cheese.

Spring planting began. Jonathan had written that he would try to come, but Dorothea and her parents did not expect him, nor were they surprised when in a second letter he apologized and told them of the many fascinating cases and assignments from his professors that compelled him to remain at college. As if to make up for his absence, he sent Dorothea sketches of quilt patterns he had observed before leaving Baltimore. They were made in the same intricate appliquéd style she had used for the quilt top that she had given to Constance. She could not conceive of making such an elaborate quilt twice in one lifetime, but she admired his drawings and tucked them away for future reference and inspiration.

From time to time over the next two days, Dorothea felt a surge of strange, exuberant melancholy as she worked alongside her mother in the new garden. Spring planting always brought with it a sense of hope and expectation, but she missed her brother and, to her surprise, she even missed Uncle Jacob. Her gladness that she would be able to finish out the term at the Creek’s Crossing school was tempered by Cyrus’s revelations and her fear that he and Mr. Liggett would not cease their maltreatment of the Wrights. Most of all, she was proud of her family’s station but anxious that Mr. Liggett would persist in troubling them. If his mistaken belief that Cyrus was her sweetheart was all that restrained him, she dreaded what he would do if he discovered the truth.

Every daylight hour of Saturday and Sunday was filled with tasks of the spring planting, so none of the Grangers could spare the time for a trip into town to inquire after Miss Nadelfrau. Robert, who stated that Cyrus’s ability to lie was inversely proportionate to his capacity to love, thought that likely nothing was amiss, and that Cyrus had spoken as he had only to upset Dorothea, knowing that she would not be able to investigate for several days. Dorothea hoped her father was correct, but on Monday morning she left for school early so that she would have time to stop by Miss Nadelfrau’s dressmaking shop.

The blinds were drawn but the door was unlocked, so she proceeded inside, where she found Miss Nadelfrau draping sheets over her dressmaker’s forms and sewing machine. No lovely finished gowns hung in their usual places in the front windows, and the bolts of satins, silks, wools, and brocades ordinarily artfully arranged in the front of the store to tempt ladies inside were rolled up and stacked in a corner.

Dorothea took in the sight and said, “This looks for all the world as if you are closing your shop.”

Miss Nadelfrau looked up, startled out of a mournful reverie. “The shop is not closing. I am just taking the little that is mine and sorting the rest for the new owner.”

“New owner?” As soon as the words left her lips, Dorothea guessed. “Not Mrs. Engle.”

Miss Nadelfrau nodded. “She is a rather fine seamstress and apparently she is restless with so little to do now that the library benefit is over. She decided her own business was just the thing to satisfy her need to occupy her time and her desire to express her artful impulses.”

Miss Nadelfrau’s voice was uncharacteristically bitter. “Forgive me,” said Dorothea carefully, “but you do not seem entirely pleased by these arrangements. I am curious why you sold to her.”

“I had no choice.” Miss Nadelfrau made a brittle laugh and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I did not want to sell. I have no other livelihood. Unfortunately, when I opened my shop five years ago, I made the mistake of borrowing money from Violet. She charged a lower interest rate than the bank and I thought my future more secure if entrusted to a friend. When Violet decided our friendship had ended, she called in the loan. Of course I did not have enough to pay her in full.” She tucked her handkerchief away. “Of course I do not blame you, Dorothea. No true friend would have turned so quickly against me.”

Bewildered, Dorothea asked, “Am I the cause of Mrs. Engle’s enmity toward you?”

“Oh, unwittingly, I’m sure. That quilt, you know—the Authors’ Album. I helped you put it into the quilt frame. I was in such a state of nerves that evening that I did not even notice the names Violet found so objectionable, but since I saw the quilt top and said nothing, she is convinced I knew all along. She accused me of conspiring with you to go against her wishes.”

“For this she would take away your livelihood?” exclaimed Dorothea.

Miss Nadelfrau nodded. “But she has allowed me to retain my apartment upstairs.”

“How very decent of her,” said Dorothea, fuming. “I will speak to her and set the matter straight.”

“Don’t bother. I am resigned to my fate, and she would not listen to you anyway.” Miss Nadelfrau tried to smile. “She has every reason to suspect me, since she has seen works by those very same notorious authors on my own bookshelves.”

Dorothea did not know what to say. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, no. I’ll be fine. I am glad for your sake that you have no outstanding debts to the Engles.”

Dorothea thought of Mr. Engle’s position as head of the school board. For all his apparent faith in her abilities as a teacher, Mr. Nelson could not force them to hire her for the autumn term. “What will you do?” she asked.

Miss Nadelfrau shrugged and lined up spools of thread in a neat row on a table. “I have a little money tucked away, and I might be able to take in a bit of sewing from my most loyal customers. If my savings run out before I find another position, my brother in Pleasant Gap will take me in. He has a farm and seven children, but his wife is sickly. They tell me they would be grateful for my help and that I would not be a burden.”

“I am sure you would be an enormous help to them.”

“And perhaps someday I will try again.” She looked around the walls of her shop, teary-eyed. “Who knows? Perhaps Pleasant Gap needs another dressmaker.”

Dorothea hugged her and offered the most encouraging words she could manage. It was an outrage that Mrs. Engle saw fit to punish poor, hapless Miss Nadelfrau for some imagined complicity rather than confront Dorothea directly.

Dorothea could not reflect on the unfolding of recent events without considering that it might have been better had she never sewed a single stitch of the Authors’ Album. She certainly regretted what had befallen Miss Nadelfrau. Yet she did not regret including the banned authors in the quilt or the results of her choice. The quilt was not to blame for creating the animosity and mistrust on the rise in Creek’s Crossing. It had merely illuminated cracks and crevices that had always existed in the shadows. She was disappointed by what she had discovered about Cyrus, Mrs. Engle, and others, but it was better by far that she knew it. The truth was always preferable to a lie.

She hurried on to the schoolhouse, where she discovered Mr. Nelson in a foul mood. He greeted her curtly and called his students to attention as soon as the hour struck, without his usual dry pleasantries. From the choir loft she overheard his increasing impatience with his students’ errors, which, she observed, bewildered them into making even more errors. She had come to know that Mr. Nelson was a clever and quick-witted man, but caustic when vexed. When he nearly brought one slow but dutiful older girl to tears as she struggled through her geography lesson, Dorothea wished she could intervene, but dared not compromise the students’ respect for their teacher.

An opportunity to speak frankly did not arrive until they dismissed the students for lunch. “You seem especially displeased with your students today,” she said after the last little boy ran outdoors.

Her remark seemed to surprise him. “Do I? They are no worse than usual, though regrettably, no better, either.”

“Helene is a sensitive girl. She tries her best, but she never even held a book before she started school only two years ago. I found that a gentle approach, with a great deal of encouragement, worked best with her.”

He did not bother to look up from unpacking his lunch from his satchel. “Do you know her so well?”

“I was her teacher myself not so long ago, and I would appreciate the courtesy of a respectful reply. I am not one of your students.”

Immediately he looked up. “My apologies, Miss Granger. Of course you are right. Helene cannot be bullied into learning.”

“May I suggest that most children cannot?” She regarded him. “I do not believe the students are to blame for your ill temper.”

“No.” He yanked out his chair and sat down, then glanced up as if surprised to see her still standing. “Are you going to eat or aren’t you?”

“I think I might prefer to eat outdoors with the children than remain in your delightful company.”

He almost smiled. “I’m sure they would enjoy that.”

“I would, too.” But she did not leave. “If I knew the reason for this foul mood, I might be able to help—for the students’ sake.”

He scowled. “You cannot help.” The venom in his tone astonished her. “You cannot, and I cannot. There is nothing we can do here in this patch of wilderness that will effect any change whatsoever.”

“Our students might not be the dedicated scholars you taught in the East—”

“I am not speaking about our students.” Abruptly he rose and strode to the window. “A letter came yesterday, from my sister. Her husband is a representative to Congress. Do you know there is a bill before them that would require all law officers to hunt down and capture all runaway slaves and return them to their owners? Not only in the South, but also in states where slavery has been banned. Harboring or assisting fugitives in any fashion would also be against the law.”

Shocked, Dorothea said, “But there are already similar laws on the books. People pay them little attention.”

“A new law would signify an increased commitment to the perpetuation of slavery for the entire nation. It cannot and must not be allowed to pass.” He paced back and forth, scowling morosely. “The bill must be fought and defeated. My sister’s husband is doing his part, while I—” He halted, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “While I reprimand children for not knowing the major water routes of Asia. What can I do here that will make any difference? Nothing. I am utterly useless.”

“You have already done a great deal to ease the suffering of slaves.”

He shot her a sharp, curious glance before uttering a brittle laugh. “You sound like my father. I made my contribution and now must let others carry on the fight. I tell you, Miss Granger, that resolution suits me very ill indeed.”

There are other ways to fight, she almost told him. Two Bears Farm had been a haven for fugitives once and could be again. Then she remembered the promise his father had exacted from him and what would befall him should he break the law again. She thought of Cyrus and how she had once imagined, wrongly, so much goodness in him because that was what she wanted to see. What if she had confided in Cyrus as she now wanted to with Mr. Nelson?