The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club (30 page)

Stuart reached his hand out to her, but she quickly pulled away. “I’ve lost my appetite. The rest of the food’s on the kitchen table. You and the kids can eat whenever the burgers are done.”

“What about you? Aren’t you going to eat with us?”

“I’m not hungry. I’ve got a headache, and I’m going to bed!” Pam whirled around and dashed into the house. Tired of every conversation turning into an argument, she just wanted to be alone.

Goshen

“It’s nice to be home, isn’t it?” Gene said as he and Ruby Lee entered their house and headed for the kitchen. “I’m sure our own bed will feel really good tonight.”

Ruby Lee nodded. Sunday, after another tension-filled church service, Gene had suggested they take a few days off and go somewhere to be alone so they could think and pray about their situation. They couldn’t really do that at home—not with the phone ringing at all hours of the day. Even in their new home, people often dropped by unannounced. So Ruby Lee and Gene had booked a room at a lovely bed-and-breakfast outside Middlebury and spent the last four days in solitude. While nothing had been definitely decided, Ruby Lee thought Gene might actually be considering leaving the ministry. If that’s the way he chose to go, she’d be relieved. She was tired of trying to help people with their problems, only to be kicked in the teeth. She, and especially Gene, deserved better than that.

“Guess I should check our messages,” Gene said. “Unless you’d rather do that.”

She shook her head. “You go ahead. I’m going to see what I can throw together for supper.” She opened the refrigerator door. “We have plenty of eggs. Does an omelet appeal to you?”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

When Gene punched the button to replay the messages, Ruby Lee recognized Emma’s voice as the caller of the first message, asking if Ruby Lee was okay and saying if she needed to talk, to please give her a call. Following that were a couple of advertising calls, including one from a man who wanted to tune the piano at the church. Two more calls from Emma said pretty much the same as the first one had, but Emma ended the last message by saying she was feeling better and hoped to see Ruby Lee at the quilt class on Saturday.

“Are you going to call her back?” Gene asked. “She sounded eager to talk to you.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, so I’ll see her then.” Truth was, Ruby Lee had debated about not going to the class tomorrow morning. It would be hard to face the others after her outburst last week. But she wanted to finish her wall hanging and needed help with the next step, so she would swallow her pride and go. After all, it wasn’t like she was the only one who’d ever had a display of emotions during one of their classes. Truth be told, it had felt somewhat healing to share her grief and frustration with her newfound friends. Maybe later she would share even more.

L
ook what Mike bought for me when we were in South Bend the other day,” Mom said, holding her left hand out to Star after she’d taken a seat beside her at the breakfast table. “We had to have it resized, so he wasn’t able to give it to me till last night.”

Star blinked at the flashy ring on her mother’s finger, noting how huge the diamond was. “Is it real?”

“Of course it is, silly. Do you really think Mike would give me a fake?”

“So what’d the guy do, rob a bank?” Star nearly gagged, watching Mom wiggle her finger as she stared at the prisms within the diamond catching the light.

“What? No, of course not.” Mom smiled widely. “He’s been saving up to buy me a really nice engagement ring.”

Star wrinkled her nose. “I suppose that means you’ve decided to marry the creep.”

“Mike is not a creep. He’s a steady worker and a good man. A much better man than any other I’ve ever known, and we’re planning to be married in September.”

“That’s just great. Super awesome, in fact. Yeah, this is the best news I’ve had all year.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic about it. Just what have you got against Mike anyway?”

Star held up one finger. “He’s bossy.” She held up a second finger. “He’s opinionated.” A third finger came up. “He’s a control freak.”

Mom flapped her hand. “Oh, he is not. When have you ever seen Mike try to control me?”

“Not you, Mom; although he does expect you to wait on him a lot. It’s the TV he really likes to control.” Star frowned. “As soon as he comes in the door, he grabs the remote, and on goes the TV. From then on, he’s in charge of whatever we watch. Not only that, but he doesn’t like anything about me.”

“That’s not true, Star.”

“Oh, isn’t it? The last time he came over, didn’t you hear how he was on my case about the clothes I wear and the kind of music I listen to?”

“He has a right to his opinion.” Mom stuck the end of her finger in her mouth and bit off a hangnail. “You already know how I feel about the way you dress, so you shouldn’t be surprised that Mike doesn’t care for it either.”

Star slapped her hand on the table, just missing her glass of orange juice. “I don’t care what he thinks! I don’t want another crummy stepfather!”

“He’s not going to be a crummy stepfather or a crummy husband either. Despite what you think, Mike is good to me, and—”

“Well, I hope he does better by you than Wes did. ‘Course anyone would be better than that wife abuser.” Star picked up her glass of juice and took a drink. “What about my real dad? Did he abuse you, too?”

Mom’s forehead wrinkled. “Now what made you ask that question?”

“You’ve never really given me all that much information about him, so for all I know, he could have treated you even worse than Wes.”

“I’ve told you all you need to know about your dad. He didn’t abuse me physically, but he was wild and undependable. And being a new father, he proved that when he ran out on us when you were a baby.”

Star reached into her jeans’ pocket, pulled out her wallet, and removed the picture she’d found in Grandma’s attic the other day. “Was it my dad’s picture that was ripped away from this?” she asked, handing the photo to Mom.

Mom stared at the photograph in disbelief. With a slow nod, she said in a whisper, “Yes, it was your dad. I tore him out of the picture.”

“Why?”

Mom picked up her coffee cup and took a drink before answering. “I … I didn’t want any reminders of the guy around. The day I tore that picture, I was very angry with him.”

“Was he really that bad?”

Tears gathered in the corners of Mom’s eyes. “Can’t you let this go? I’d rather not talk about it. I just want to focus on my future with Mike.”

It was obvious that the subject of Star’s real father was a touchy one. Mom had no doubt loved him at one time, and when he’d pulled up stakes and deserted them, it had probably broken her heart. From what Star had seen all these years, whenever the subject of her dad came up, Mom still held a lot of hurt and anger toward him, so maybe it was best if she just dropped the subject. After all, what was the point? If her dad didn’t care enough about her and Mom to stick around and support them, then he really wasn’t worth knowing.

“Could I have the picture back?” Star asked. “It’s a good one of you and me, don’t you think?”

“You’re right. It is.” Mom handed the picture to Star and smiled. “So what are your plans for the day?”

“I’m goin’ to Emma Yoder’s quilting class. Today will be our fifth lesson, and I’m hoping Emma’s well enough to teach the class again because she explains things better than her Amish friend did. Although he was quite an interesting guy and knows something about designing quilt patterns,” Star added.

“Well, before you go, there’s something else I wanted to say about Mike. I think you should know that—”

“I’ve gotta go now, Mom, so hold that thought till I get home from Emma’s,” Star said, glancing at the clock on the far wall. She gulped down the rest of her juice, grabbed her sack with the quilt project in it, and raced out the door. She would deal with Mom marrying Mike when the time came, but she didn’t have to like it.

Middlebury

As Stuart and Pam passed through Middlebury on their way to Shipshewana, Pam kept her head turned to the right. Maybe if she pretended to be looking at the scenery they were passing—scenery she’d seen many times before and knew almost by heart—Stuart would stop trying to make conversation. She was still upset with him for wanting to take Devin camping, while she and Sherry sat at home by themselves. Sure, she could probably think of something the two of them could do together, but Pam wanted to do more things as a family. Maybe if she continued to whine about it, Stuart would change his mind. Or maybe if she gave him the cold shoulder long enough, he’d wake up and realize how insensitive he was about her needs.

“When I checked the weather report on the Internet this morning, it said we might be getting some rain next week,” Stuart said.

Pam silently focused on the black, box-shaped buggy up ahead. The little Amish girl who sat in the back looked out at Pam and waved. She was so cute that Pam waved back and smiled, despite her gloomy mood.

“Wish it would have rained today.” Stuart grunted. “Then I wouldn’t mind being cooped up in Emma’s house all morning with a bunch of people I’d rather not know.”

“That’s not what you said after you attended the class without me,” Pam mumbled. “You seemed quite interested in what all had been said and done that day. And to be honest, I really don’t want to talk about the weather.”

“Why do you have to be so critical of everything I say and do?” he questioned.

She gave no response.

“You know, sometimes I wonder why we ever got married. All we seem to do is fight.”

“Then I guess we made the biggest mistake of our lives when we tied the knot, huh?”

“Maybe we did, but we loved each other, and I wish we could start over.”

“I’d be happy to start over if you agreed to spend more time with me.”

“What do you think I’m doing right now?”

“You’re only doing it out of obligation. You take no pleasure in being with me, do you?”

A muscle in Stuart’s cheek twitched. “Just stop it, Pam. You’re putting words in my mouth again, and I’m gettin’ sick of it, because we’ve been through all this before.”

“That’s a really dumb answer, Stuart.”

“Can you give me an example of what a better answer would be? I mean, what exactly is it you want me to say?”

“How about, ‘I love you, Pam,’ and—”

“I’ve told you that many times.”

She bumped his arm. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt when I’m talking.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Go ahead and say what you were going to say, but let me remind you that you’re one of the biggest interrupters I know.”

Pam turned her head away. “Never mind, Stuart. Like all the other times, this is getting us nowhere.”

“Just say what you were gonna say and be done with it!”

“What’s the point? You’re not going to change your mind about going camping with Devin.”

“I don’t know why you should begrudge me a little quality time with my son.”