When the talk turned back to John and Clara’s wedding quilt, Caroline mentioned setting the signature blocks on point. “I brought a sample with me of what I think I’ll use for the joining blocks. It’s in the basket I left in the kitchen.”
“I’ll get it.” Juliana hopped up to retrieve the basket. She reached in and pulled out a square of dark blue fabric dotted with tiny white stars. “This is lovely.” A lone quilt block caught her eye. “You’ve forgotten one.” She reached in.
“Oh, did I drop that? Here,” Caroline said. “I’ll do that one. I’m just about ready for another.”
Juliana looked back down at the name. Jenna Pamelia Lindermann. She glanced at Caroline, who looked … well, concerned. And she would. Caroline would do anything within her power to keep from causing another person pain. Such a dear woman.
As the sample of setting fabric was passed about the room, Juliana sat down, pondering the name on the quilt block still in her lap, while the others talked about how to quilt the top once Caroline had assembled the blocks.
Had it really been twenty-five years ago when she’d done everything she could to erase even the shadow of that name from her life? It didn’t seem possible. She glanced up. At Aunt Theodora, ninety-five years old and still alternately delighting and frustrating them with her acerbic wit and ever-strong opinions. Aunt Lydia, beloved as ever for her gentle ways. Lutie Gleason, widowed five years ago and pouring her grief into service projects. Helen Duncan, making do with a so-so marriage but not letting it sap the joy out of her life. Cass’s mother, whose marriage to Pastor James Taylor a few years ago had delighted the congregation who had come to love Margaret Nash for her servant’s heart. Goodness, but the women in this room had lived a life. They had enough stories between them to fill more novels than Aunt Theodora would ever allow in the library out at Friendship Home.
And Jenna Pamelia Lindermann, mother of Dr. John Harrison, who would soon be practicing alongside the beloved Dr. Miles Gilbert. How many lives would Jenny’s boy, Johnny, save? Only God knew. Juliana looked over at her open desk. At the cabinet photos of her three children. Three miracles, as far as she was concerned. At her wedding photo. Another miracle. A husband who still took her breath away. She smiled, remembering this morning. Cass might not remember how many years they’d been married, but he remembered everything that mattered.
She thought back to a night long ago when she’d asked God to show her what to do and then awakened to the sound of Aunt Theodora playing the piano. “My faith looks up to Thee, Thou Lamb of Calvary, Savior divine….”
Tears gathered in her eyes. She looked over at Caroline, who was still glancing at her every few minutes, a concerned look on her dear face.
She smiled. Nodded. It’s all right. And it was. More than all right. She picked up her needle and began to embroider the name.
The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage.
PSALM 16:6
Stephanie Grace Whitson, bestselling author and two-time Christy finalist, pursues a full-time writing and speaking career from her home studio in southeast Nebraska. Her husband and blended family, her church, quilting, and Kitty—her motorcycle—all rank high on her list of “favorite things.” Learn more at www.stephaniewhitson.com
Other titles by
Stephanie Grace Whitson
The Key on the Quilt
Coming Soon
The Message on the Quilt
Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] Page 33
