The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club - 02 - The Tattered Quilt (11 page)

Goshen

Cheryl gripped the steering wheel tightly as she headed for work. She’d awakened with a headache and had thought about calling in sick. But she wasn’t going to give in to it. She’d taken an aspirin with a strong cup of coffee and told herself that she could get through the day. Maybe by the time she got to the office, the aspirin would take effect.

As Cheryl drove along, she was thankful that on Friday she’d gotten all her work done and had left her desk clean. She hoped this morning would start out quiet, with only e-mails to answer and phone calls to return. Most likely it would be that way, as long as her boss, Hugh Edwards, hadn’t worked on Saturday, like he did on occasion.

Cheryl slipped in one of her favorite Christian CDs and tried to relax. She’d been uptight since she’d attended her first quilt class. When she’d decided to take the class, she hadn’t figured that some overbearing guy who smoked like a diesel truck would be sitting beside her, asking a bunch of nonsensical questions.

Cheryl glanced at her cell phone, lying on the leather seat beside her. She’d called her folks Saturday evening, and again on Sunday, wanting to find out how Grandma was doing, but all she’d gotten was her parents’ voice mail. She’d left messages every time, but no response. Surely Mom and Dad couldn’t both be too busy to call. Had they gone out of town for the weekend? If so, why hadn’t they let her know? Cheryl had been tempted to call again this morning, but with the three-hour time difference between Indiana and Portland, Oregon, her folks would still be in bed, assuming they were home.

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
I’ll try again when I get home this evening. I really want to know how Grandma’s doing, and I need to ask Mom not to tell her about the quilt. I want it to be a surprise
.

Just then her phone rang, so she pulled over to answer, hoping it was her mother. Instead, it was her pastor’s wife, Ruby Lee.

“Hi, Cheryl,” Ruby Lee said cheerfully. “I’m calling to see if Emma was able to fix your grandmother’s quilt.”

“Yes, she took the quilt in to repair it,” Cheryl replied. “Oh, and I ended up signing up for Emma’s six-week quilting class.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it as much as I did.”

“I hope so. I’m not that good with a needle and thread, so I don’t know if I can make a wall hanging as beautiful as the one you made when you took Emma’s class.”

“Now, Cheryl, remember what the Bible says in Philippians 4:13,” Ruby Lee reminded. “ ‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.’ ”

Cheryl smiled. “I’ll try to remember that. Thanks for the pep talk. I needed it.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and one more thing.”

“What’s that, Ruby Lee?”

“I believe that meeting new people—especially people like Emma and Lamar, will be as good for you as it was for me.”

C
HAPTER
9

Shipshewana

I
’ve been meaning to ask, how did things go at your quilting class last Saturday?” Emma’s daughter Mary questioned as she helped Emma do the dishes. Mary and her family lived next door, but one of the children had been sick last week, so Mary hadn’t been over to see Emma for several days. This evening they’d all gotten together at Emma and Lamar’s for a haystack supper.

Glancing out the window as the sun settled in the western sky, Emma sighed and placed another clean plate in the dish drainer. “Let’s just say the class could have gone better.”

“What happened?” Mary asked, reaching for the plate to dry.

Emma lifted her hands from the soapy water and held up one finger. “The first problem was Anna Lambright. She came in late and announced that she didn’t want to be there.” A second finger came up. “Then there was a lady named Selma Nash, who kept interrupting and acting as if she knew more about quilting than anyone else in the room—including me.” Emma extended a third finger. “Jan’s friend Terry Cooley was also in the class, and I’m afraid he didn’t make a very good impression.”

“With you?”

Pushing up her glasses, and leaving a small trail of soap bubbles running toward the tip of her nose, Emma shook her head. “I’ve met Terry before, so I already knew about his smoking habit. But Cheryl Halverson, who brought her grandmother’s quilt for me to fix, ended up sitting right next to Terry.” Emma wrinkled her nose. “He smelled like cigarette smoke, which I suspect is why she kept leaning away from him.”

“Oh dear.” Mary handed Emma a tissue to blot the suds on her nose. “I hope he didn’t smoke here in the house.”

“He was about to but ended up going outside. Thank goodness Lamar or I didn’t have to say anything to Terry about it, because Blaine Vickers, one of the other students, spoke up.”

“Who are the others who came to your class?”

“Well, Blaine Vickers is one of Stuart Johnston’s friends, and a young woman named Carmen Lopez was also here. She’s Paul Ramirez’s sister-in-law.”

“Sounds like quite a varied group of people,” Mary said, reaching for another plate to dry. “Apparently some of them are connected with the first group you had.”

“They certainly are. I sure hope things go better during our class tomorrow. I want to be able to help each of my students learn how to quilt.”

Mary placed her hand on Emma’s arm. “If these classes go like all the others you’ve taught, I’m sure your students will learn a lot more than quilting from you and Lamar. By the end of six weeks, I can almost count on them being thankful they took your class.”

Goshen

Cheryl had just taken a seat at the table to eat the Caesar salad she’d fixed for supper, when her cell phone rang. She was going to ignore it until she realized the call was from her mother.

“Mom, where have you been?” Cheryl asked, reaching for the bottle of ranch dressing to drizzle over her salad. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all week.”

“There’s no need to be upset, Cheryl,” Mom said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Your dad and I needed a little time away, so we went to the beach for a few days.”

“To the beach? What about Grandma?” Cheryl’s voice rose with each word she spoke. “Who checked up on her while you were gone, and why didn’t you let me know you were leaving town?”

“Your uncle Don stopped by the nursing home to make sure she was okay, and we didn’t call because going to the beach was a spur-of-the moment decision.”

Cheryl clenched her teeth, forking a crouton and watching it crumble. “I would have appreciated a call. I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Mom apologized. “When your dad suggested we go to the beach, I got caught up in the idea and didn’t think to call.”

“How’d you manage to get time off from the bank?” Mom always used her work as an excuse not to do things with Cheryl, but apparently spending time with Dad was a different matter.

“I had some vacation time coming. Why are you asking so many questions? Don’t your dad and I have the right to get away by ourselves once in a while?” Mom sounded upset, and Cheryl knew she’d better not push it any further.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I hope you and Dad had a good time.”

“We did. The weather was a bit chilly, but the sun was out, and we had fun walking the beach, looking for shells and agates. You know very well that we don’t do something like this often, and it was nice to just go off like we did with no real planning involved.” There was a pause. Then Mom said, “How are things going with you?”

“Okay. I found an Amish woman to repair Grandma’s quilt, and I signed up to take a six-week quilting class. Please don’t tell Grandma I’m having the quilt repaired. I want it to be a special birthday surprise.”

“Oh, that’s nice, and I won’t say a word. Uh, listen, Cheryl, your dad just came in, and I need to talk to him about a few things, so if there’s nothing else, I’d better go.”

“Sure, Mom. Tell Dad I said hello. Oh, and give Grandma a hug from me when you see her the next time.”

“I will. ’Bye, Cheryl.”

Cheryl clicked off her phone and stared at her salad. For some reason, she’d lost her appetite. It was just like Mom to be too busy to talk. She never seemed to have enough time for her one and only daughter.

Elkhart

As Carmen stepped onto Paul’s porch, her palms grew sweaty. Paul had invited her to join him and Sophia for supper tonight, and even though she looked forward to spending time with her niece, she was nervous about visiting Paul. What if he didn’t accept her apology for blaming him for Lorinda’s death? What if he quizzed her about the quilt class, and she ended up blurting out the real reason she’d signed up for it? She was sure he’d be upset if he knew she was taking the classes in order to gather research for an article that could shed a bad light on the Amish. And she certainly couldn’t mention that she planned to talk privately with Anna Lambright, hoping to get information about her running-around years.

Taking in a quick breath, Carmen rang the doorbell. One glance at the yard told Carmen how the flower beds had been neglected over the past summer. Remnants of weeds where flowers had once bloomed were now dried and bent over.

I’ll bet Paul has his hands full, being both mom and dad to Sophia, not to mention his full-time teaching job
, Carmen thought. She didn’t recall his yard looking so neglected when she’d been here before.

Paul answered the door, wearing a dark blue shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Noting the apron tied around his waist, Carmen suppressed a giggle. She’d never thought of him as the domestic type, but then when he’d had to take on the role of caring for the house, she supposed he’d learned to wear many hats. It couldn’t be easy for him raising Sophia on his own. If Carmen lived closer, she would offer to do some things with Sophia. But at least Paul’s folks, as well as his sister and her family, lived nearby. From what Paul had said in his e-mails, they often took Sophia to give Paul a break.

“Come in,” Paul said, offering Carmen a nervous-looking smile. “You’re right on time.”

Carmen stepped into the house and removed her coat. “It was nice of you to invite me over. I hope you haven’t gone to any trouble preparing the meal.”