The Wedding Quilt (37 page)

“Of course I did. I heard every word.”

“Are you sure? Because if you had, you would have heard that I admire your commitment and I consider it a wonderful example for Leo and me. I don't know the specific details of whatever conflicts you had, and I don't need to know—that's between you and Dad. What I do know is that you didn't just give up and walk away when times got tough. You talked things through and worked out your issues, and as a result, things were better than before. I said I hoped my marriage would be as resilient, as strong, and as full of enduring love as yours. Your marriage is all of those things, Mom, and I hope my marriage will be too.”

Sarah did not know what to say. Overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, her eyes filling with tears, she embraced her daughter, who had grown up wiser than Sarah had ever known.

The storm broke overnight, and in the morning the sun rose golden over the Elm Creek Valley in a clear, cloudless, ocean blue sky. Sarah had slept well, with Matt's arm around her, and she woke feeling calm and content.

After breakfast, Sarah gathered a group of teenagers and sent them out to the north gardens with armfuls of towels, instructing them to dry off the chairs and pick up any that had toppled over from the high winds. When Matt went out later to inspect the area around the gazebo, he returned with the good news that aside from a few fallen twigs and scattered leaves, which he had easily swept away, the gardens had not suffered any ill effects from the storm. Even most of the rainwater had dried, leaving only a few small puddles that would surely evaporate by the time the ceremony began. The white gingerbread of the gazebo amid the autumn blooms and evergreen foliage would be as lovely and picturesque a setting for a wedding as Caroline had hoped.

Later that morning, while Caroline spent time with her bridesmaids, Sarah and the Elm Creek Quilters gathered in the library for mimosas and reminiscing. Each of Sarah's friends had a favorite memory of Caroline to share, and soon Sarah was laughing and crying. “Don't make me cry now,” Sarah begged, laughing as she wiped away tears. “If I'm crying already, just think what a mess I'll be at the ceremony.”

“On the other hand,” offered Summer, smiling sympathetically, “if you cry all your tears out now, you might not have any left by then.”

Sarah didn't want to test that theory, for she suspected she had a limitless supply. But at least her tears were tears of joy.

As the Elm Creek Quilters chatted, they also organized the signed and unsigned blocks for the bride and groom's Memory Album quilt, reading off the names, sharing the heartfelt messages, and checking off guests on their master list. Despite the numerous false starts, mishaps, and distractions, they had collected signatures from all but a handful of the guests who were staying in the manor. All that remained were a few who had somehow unwittingly eluded them, and those friends and family members who lived close enough that they were coming in only for the day. Sarah was confident that with the help of the Elm Creek Quilters, she would be able to collect their signatures discreetly at the reception. Sarah couldn't imagine a lovelier first Christmas gift as a married couple than the Memory Album quilt would be. It wouldn't be the wedding quilt that Caroline had wished, too late, that she had made herself, but Sarah hoped it would forever remind the newlyweds of the joy and love they had felt on their wedding day.

At eleven Sarah met Caroline, Leo's mother, and the bridesmaids in the kitchen for an early lunch, but although the roasted autumn vegetable salads and goat cheese biscuits smelled delicious, Sarah could hardly eat a bite, and she observed that Caroline only nibbled at her biscuit and sampled a few bites of her salad. She seemed in good spirits, animated and lively, but her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, and every so often Sarah caught her pressing a hand to her waist as if to calm the nervous fluttering in her stomach. Sarah knew exactly how she felt, and she stayed close in case Caroline needed her.

After lunch the women climbed aboard the Elm Creek Quilts shuttle for a trip to Sarah's favorite salon to have their hair, nails, and makeup done. The attentive staff played soothing music and served them iced fruit juices, sparkling water with lime, and hot herbal tea, and Sarah was pleased and relieved to see her daughter visibly relaxing. Caroline's friends amused and encouraged her with jokes and cheerful conversation, reminding Sarah of the Elm Creek Quilters, who never failed to support Sarah in times of need.

“Such a beautiful bride,” Leo's mother murmured to Sarah as they watched the stylist brush out Caroline's soft golden curls. She choked up and dug in her purse for a tissue.

“You can't cry now,” said Sarah, with alarm that was only partially feigned. “You'll mess up your makeup, and you'll make me cry too!”

They laughed together and managed to compose themselves, admiring Caroline and her lovely, vibrant, affectionate friends. Sarah couldn't imagine that a prettier or more charming group of bridesmaids had ever been assembled in the history of matrimony, but she was a bit biased.

Afterward, they climbed carefully back into the shuttle, determined not to tousle their hair or chip their manicures. Halfway home, with Gina at the wheel and bridesmaids chattering happily all around them, Caroline took Sarah's hand and offered her a small, tremulous smile. Sarah squeezed her hand—it felt small and cold in hers—and smiled encouragingly. “It'll be fine,” she murmured as Caroline rested her head upon her shoulder. “Don't worry. Everything's going to be wonderful.”

“But not perfect?”

Sarah laughed softly. “No, I can't promise you that, and you wouldn't believe me if I did.”

At that Caroline's laugh rang out, pure and sweet and true.

Back at Elm Creek Manor, the bridesmaids went off to dress, promising Caroline they would meet her in the library as soon as they were ready. Sarah accompanied Caroline to her room and helped her into her wedding dress, a strapless, ivory silk organza gown with a draped tulle bodice, an embellished silver antique belt worn at the natural waist, and a swirling ballgown skirt. Caroline's eyes shone with gratitude and happiness as Sarah fastened Sylvia's beautiful pearls around her neck. The precious Bergstrom family heirloom provided the last, perfect touch to her wedding finery, and Sarah knew that Sylvia would have been pleased.

Matt knocked on the door and entered just as Sarah was making a last few adjustments to Caroline's headpiece. He had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he managed to say.

She embraced him. “Thanks, Dad.”

After Matt checked the hallway and assured them Leo was nowhere in sight, Caroline and Sarah hurried down the hall to the library, where the bridesmaids were to gather before the ceremony. The musicians had arrived and were setting up their instruments on the gazebo, Matt reported as they closed the French doors behind them. Guests were mingling on the verandah and making their way to the north gardens, Grandma Carol among them, reveling in the company of friends and family she had not seen in years—and Sarah knew that in her handbag she carried the remaining unsigned Memory Album blocks and several fabric pens. Anna had the dinner preparations well in hand, and although Gina had fussed with the wedding cake up until the last moment before she had to hurry off to change into her bridesmaid's gown, Anna had assured Matt that all would be ready in time. James was helping her.

Caroline laughed. “James is helping her? James, with no training as a pastry chef whatsoever?”

“I think he's mostly offering moral support,” said Matt, “although he offered to carry the cake to the banquet hall too.”

“It's good of him to help, but I wanted him to meet us here before the bridesmaids arrived,” said Sarah, glancing at the clock.

Just then, one of the French doors opened and James entered, right on time. His eyes went to his sister, and he beamed proudly. “You look amazing,” he said, crossing the room and kissing her cheek. “Leo's going to pass out when he sees you.”

Caroline feigned offense. “You mean I look so bad on an ordinary day that he's going to collapse from shock to see me like this?”

James nodded solemnly. “That's exactly what I mean.” He snorted, struggling to keep a straight face, and the twins burst out laughing.

“I don't know how Gina puts up with you.” Caroline flung her arms around her brother and kissed him on the cheek. “Even so, I know your wedding day is going to be as happy as mine.”

James let out a sigh of mild exasperation. “Caroline—”

“Oops.” Caroline released her brother and covered her mouth with her fingertips. “I'm sorry, James, I'm sorry.”

Sarah and Matt exchanged a startled glance. “What's this?” asked Matt. “Caroline, you're speaking theoretically, right?”

Caroline raised her palms to fend off any more questions. “I'm not saying another word.”

Sarah whirled upon her son. “James, are you and Gina—” She gasped as James nodded. “You're engaged? Oh, James, that's wonderful!”

She embraced him, and James said, “We wanted to keep it a secret until after Caroline and Leo's honeymoon.”

“I'm sorry,” Caroline said again, with uncharacteristic meekness.

“Congratulations, son,” said Matt, hugging him. “Gina's a lovely girl.”

“Thanks, Dad.” James looked from Matt to Sarah. “Please don't say anything to anyone. Anna and Jeremy don't know yet.”

“Actually, they do,” said Caroline. “Gina slipped up yesterday when Anna was helping her balance the layers of the wedding cake. She was thinking aloud about what she would do differently for her own cake, and Anna pounced and dragged the truth out of her.”

“I knew something was going on.” Sarah slapped James lightly on the shoulder. “Why didn't you tell me when I asked? Why the secrecy?”

“We didn't want to steal Caroline and Leo's thunder,” explained James.

“That wasn't our idea,” Caroline declared, looking from her mother to her father and back. “Leo and I told them it would be fine with us if they announced their good news, but they insisted on keeping quiet.”

“We had another good reason,” said James, smiling at Sarah. “We also didn't want you to have to think about another wedding so soon.”

Sarah clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, no, let's not do that. Not yet.” Her thoughts were in a whirl—Caroline, about to marry, and James, newly engaged—it was indeed an occasion for rejoicing, and if Sylvia were there, Sarah knew she would agree.

“Kids, would you please have a seat for a moment?” Sarah asked, gesturing toward the sofa. “I want a few minutes alone with you two before the bridesmaids arrive.”

“Uh-oh,” said James, shooting his twin sister a sidelong glance as they sat down, and for a brief instant they both seemed very young. “Whatever it was, I didn't do it.”

“No, it's nothing like that,” said Sarah. From behind the desk she retrieved the old department store shopping bag that she had brought down from Emily's studio earlier that morning. “I think you'll find this is a good surprise.”

She handed Caroline the larger ribbon-tied gift, and James the smaller. “This is Sylvia's handwriting,” said James in surprise as he examined the tag.

Sarah nodded. “These gifts are from Sylvia. She loved you two very much.”

“And we loved her,” said Caroline, and James nodded. “I wish she could be here to share this day with us.”

“She wished that too.” Sarah bit her lip to keep from tearing up again. “But since she couldn't, she chose these special gifts and hid them away with instructions to give them to you on the wedding day of the first of you to marry, or your thirtieth birthday, whichever came first.”

“I bet you wish it had been the latter,” said Caroline wryly.

“As it happens, you're wrong,” Sarah countered. It was true. For the first time, Sarah felt as if everything was unfolding precisely as it should, and at the perfect time. “I'm happy that I don't have to wait another day. You don't know how many times I was tempted to unwrap these gifts, satisfy my curiosity, and wrap them up again.”

“Mom,” the twins admonished in unison.

“You never would have known,” Sarah pointed out, laughing. “But now the time has come, and you can open them yourselves. That's what Sylvia wanted.”

The twins needed no further inducement. Caroline carefully untied her ribbon as if planning to save it, but James snapped his in two with a firm tug and tore off the paper. “It's a book,” he said thoughtfully, turning over a small leather-bound volume in his hands. Sarah glimpsed neither a title nor the author's name on the cover or spine.

Forgetting her own gift for the moment, Caroline leaned closer to her brother as he opened the cover. “It's Sylvia's writing, all of it,” she exclaimed as he flipped through the pages. Suddenly a folded piece of white paper fluttered from the book to the floor. Quicker than her brother, Caroline snatched it up. “I bet it's a letter.”

“Caroline,” said Sarah mildly.

With a contrite smile, Caroline handed the note to James. He unfolded it and read it through silently once before reading it aloud. “‘Dear James,'” he began. “‘I wish I could be there to enjoy this special day with you, but since I cannot, I hope this small token of my love will help you to remember me fondly. I remember when you were in second grade, and you begged me to let you read my great-great-aunt's memoir, which you had heard your mother and me discuss many times. I granted your request, but I made you promise to take very good care of it. You may recall that I required you to wash your hands carefully before you held the book, and I allowed you to read it only in the library and to take it nowhere else. I still smile when I think of you sitting at my father's old oak desk, your legs dangling off the edge of the chair with your feet several inches above the ground.'” James paused, smiling. “I remember Sylvia's clean-hands inspections very well.”