Sarah earned a frown for her efforts.
“You are way too flippant about this. I think you need to go to counseling.”
“Flippant about and counseling for what?” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “You can say it, Karla. Multiple sclerosis. I have MS. Dancing around the disease’s name won’t make it go away.”
“I know that,” Karla snapped. “I just don’t know how you can be so accepting of your fate.”
“What else can I do? We have to take the good with the bad.” Sarah sipped her iced green tea. She wasn’t ecstatic about her diagnosis, either, but since there was no cure for MS she had to find a way to live with it.
“Whatever.” Karla’s eye-roll answer didn’t surprise Sarah. Her friend wasn’t as grounded in faith as Sarah, who believed that if God brought you to it, He’d get you through it. At least she believed that most days.
“I have to earn a living.” Sarah’s MS forced her to quit the job she loved as a UPS delivery person. She couldn’t tolerate going in and out of eastern South Dakota’s hot, humid summer weather. It worsened her muscle spasms.
“That’s just it, you don’t. There are government programs.”
“Stop.” Sarah held up her palm. She’d had enough. “I’m not quite forty and only in the first stages of MS. Someday I may need assistance, but right now I just need a job that doesn’t aggravate my symptoms.”
Karla opened then closed her mouth. She pursed her lips and gave her head a shake, letting Sarah know she didn’t share that opinion.
“I wish you were as excited about my new career as I am. The company I’m working for has excellent benefits. I’m in a temperature-controlled office, and I get to dress up. After wearing brown uniforms and comfortable shoes for twenty-two years, having wardrobe choices is a real treat.” Sarah smiled before taking another sip of her tea.
“Congratulations,” Karla said with a halfhearted shrug. She reached across the table and rested her hand on Sarah’s arm. “You know I’m only concerned because I care about you. Right?”
“I know.” Sarah placed her free hand over Karla’s and squeezed.
Karla’s concerned-filled eyes bored into Sarah. “I don’t know that you’re seeing the big picture with your disease. You need to take it easy.”
Sarah did see the big picture. People in all stages of MS attended the support group she’d enrolled in. Many of the people in advanced stages of MS still led very active lives, just like Sarah intended on doing. She wasn’t going to cower away in a room and watch life pass her by like Karla seemed to want her to do.
When Sarah didn’t respond, Karla added, “I do have your best interest at heart.”
I’m not so sure about that. Since her diagnosis, the one thing she thought wouldn’t change was her friendship with Karla. Karla, usually supportive, saw only the negatives where Sarah’s MS was concerned.
Sarah cleared her throat. “I need to get going. I have to pick up supplies before my class.”
Karla released her grip. As she stood, she picked up her cup and said, “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be sewing. At least you’ll have something to fill your time when you find managing a building is too much for you with MS,” enunciating the last two letters as if to prove she could say them. Karla then walked over to the waste can and dropped her empty coffee cup through the center opening.
Outside the building, Karla gave Sarah a loose hug. “I’ll call you, and we can do this again.”
Maybe, Sarah thought as she waved good-bye to her friend. Sarah needed optimism, but it was hard to maintain a positive outlook around Karla anymore. Idle minds were truly the devil’s workshop. Sarah’s own mind had hosted a few pity parties since her symptoms were diagnosed, which was the second reason she enrolled in the quilting class.
Please, Lord, change Karla’s attitude concerning my illness and help me to adjust to the new challenges in my life. Sarah sent up a silent prayer as she walked to the other end of the strip mall that housed Granny Bea’s quilt shop.
As the door buzzer announced her arrival, Sarah looked around. The quilt store appeared unmanned. Sarah’s heart sank a little. She stepped forward and scanned the room’s corners. Surely, he was here. Somewhere.
“Sarah, you’re early.” Mark Sanders, the store owner, came from the back of the building, his warm smile waking the butterflies in her stomach. “I was just getting the classroom set up for Caroline. Come on back and keep me company while I test machines.”
The butterflies’ fluttering wings lifted her heart and blew away all the negative energy from her visit with Karla. Reason number one for taking a quilting class—Mark. Sarah thought she preferred tall, lean men, but this shorter, stocky man sparked her interest. He’d been so welcoming on her first visit to the store. The way his eyes lit up when he looked at her made her feel special. Something she needed right now.
Now when the blues threatened her sanity, she found a reason to visit the store. Even after the briefest conversations with Mark, she left uplifted.
“I came early because I haven’t purchased the fabric I need for my class project yet.” Sarah held out the letter Caroline Baker, the class instructor, sent out with yardage requirements for either a table runner or a wall quilt. “I intend to use this coupon.” Sarah pointed to the bottom portion of the letter that advertised 10 percent off supplies purchased at Granny Bea’s.
“Don’t worry about it.” Mark waved his hand through the air. “You can get that after class. I read Caroline’s synopsis, and she’s going over quilting terms and sewing methods tonight. She gave me strict orders to have practice fabric available, so I don’t think you’ll need the project fabric until next week.”
Mark led the way to the workroom in the back of the store.
“I’ll be just a second.” He turned to the right and went into a darkened room.
Sarah took a couple of steps past the threshold. The workroom stretched the length of the store. Three rows of folding tables roughly four feet long made up the classroom. A sewing machine sat at the ends of each table. Mark must offer sewing classes in addition to quilting classes.
“Have a seat.” Mark rolled a plush office chair out of the darkened room and pushed it over by the first table. He held it steady until Sarah sat down.
“Thank you.” Sarah smiled up at Mark as she took a seat.
“You’re welcome.” Mark continued to smile at Sarah for a few moments. His short light brown hair, combed straight back despite some receding on each side, accented her favorite feature—his eyes. The dark green polo shirt he wore today brought out the emerald highlights in his hazel eyes.
“You look like springtime tonight. Yellow is a good color for you.” Crinkles formed by Mark’s eyes as his smile widened.
Sarah’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you.” She’d bought the pastel crop pants set as her Easter outfit. Although it proved to be a little too summery for early April in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, she’d garnered many compliments at church, so she chose it to wear tonight because she wanted to look nice for Mark.
“You’re welcome.” Mark walked to the last plastic-topped table. He plugged a sewing machine into a power strip and pressed a button then repeated the action on the second machine.
Sarah lifted her left hand. Her fingers glided up and down the length of her dangly earrings. Shouldn’t Mark be moving the sewing machines out of the way?
“How many people signed up for the quilting class?” Sarah smiled when Mark looked up from his work.
He moved to the second table in the row. “Five. One machine is for Caroline.” Mark pressed a button and a machine lit up. When the second machine on that table didn’t respond, Mark scowled and wiggled a power cord where it attached to the machine. He flicked a switch, seemed satisfied, and then walked to the front table.
“What type of sewing machine do you have?” Mark asked as he prepped the last two sewing machines.
“Um…” Sarah felt her eyes grow wide. She hadn’t consid
ered needing a sewing machine to make a quilt. She’d inquired about the classes to have a reason to talk to Mark. After a bout with the blues, she’d decided a hobby was a needed distraction. “I don’t have one. I thought quilts were hand stitched.”
Mark knitted his brows. “Not too many people quilt by hand these days. The first day you came into the store you purchased quite a bit of material, so I assumed you knew how to sew.”
“My church was collecting sewing kits for a mission project.” He remembered her purchase from three months ago? Of course he did. He picked up on her interest in the Job’s Tears quilt block. What did he tell her that day? “A good shopkeeper knows his customers”—yet he made her feel like more than a customer. Was that his intention or her hope? She wished she could have discussed this with Karla, instead of the ongoing saga of her MS.
Satisfied that all the machines were on and in working order, Mark slipped his stocky frame onto the corner of the table closest to her and swung his legs. “I see. Do you know how to sew?”
Sarah dipped her head. She’d signed up for the class to give her a reason to be in the store. She’d been so focused on the feeling that bubbled inside her whenever she was around Mark that she hadn’t considered needing or knowing how to use a sewing machine.
“No.” She lifted her eyes like a child asking forgiveness. “Do I need to know how to sew before I can quilt?”
Mark laughed. “I think it would help, but Caroline used to teach home economics back in the day, so it shouldn’t be a problem. If Caroline gives you quilting homework or you want to practice, feel free to come into the shop and use one of these.”
“How sweet of you!” Relief that she could stay enrolled in the class infused Sarah’s response, revealing a little more enthusiasm than she’d intended.
A deep crimson colored Mark’s light complexion, but his eyes sparkled as he grinned.
“I me–meant to say that was nice of you.” The warmth of Sarah’s cheeks was an indicator that her face mirrored Mark’s.
“I hope you take me up on the offer.” Mark’s complexion regained some of its normal color as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “If you don’t know how to sew, what prompted you to sign up for a quilting class?”
“Well…” Sarah stopped. Although she didn’t agree with people who tried to hide their MS, she was tired of being pitied, so she phrased her response without making a reference to her disease. “I decided that I needed to fill some free time. I noticed all the beautiful quilts on display in your shop and thought quilting might be a good hobby. Then you offered evening classes, so I thought I’d give it a try.”
Plus you make me feel special. Thank goodness that thought stayed in her head. Sarah fought the urge to fan the intense blush from her cheeks.
“I think you’ll enjoy it. Job’s Tears is a fairly easy quilt block, so you shouldn’t get too frustrated with it.”
“Can I hold you to that statement?” A storm cloud of doubts threatened Sarah’s plan. Would she really be able to stay in the class if she knew nothing about sewing? Seeing Mark wasn’t the only issue; without the class, how would she fill her free time? Guess it was a good thing that she waited until the last minute to purchase her supplies.
Sarah rested her hands on the rippled seersucker fabric of her crop pants. “Some of the quilts you have on display are so intricate. I can’t imagine making one of those.”
“Depending on the quilt size, block detail, and quilted stitch pattern, some quilters log hundreds of hours on a quilt.”
“Wow.” Sarah shook her head in disbelief. “I had no idea.”
“It really is an art form.”
Sarah nodded in agreement. A few silent moments passed. She tried to think of something else to say.
The deep breath Mark drew broke the quiet in the room. He rubbed his hands down his khaki pants.
Sarah noted Mark’s body language. Is he nervous, too?
“I could show you how to work the sewing machine.”
“You know how to sew?” Sarah’s astonishment coaxed a chuckle from Mark.
“Just enough to demonstrate the sewing machines I sell.” He slipped from the table and patted the seat of a folding chair in front of one of the machines. “But knowing how to work the machine might give you a step up in class.”
“Really, you don’t have to do this, I’m sure you have work to do.” Although she hoped if he did that it could wait until class started.
“Nothing that can’t wait until later.” The legs of a folding chair squeaked across the tile floor as Mark pulled a second one over to the machine and sat down. He patted the seat of the empty chair.
Sarah’s hands trembled and not from a tremor brought on by her MS. She arose from the office chair then hooked her fingers behind her back, hoping to conceal her nervousness as she walked over to sit beside Mark. Once seated, she clasped her clammy palms together and rested them in her lap.
Mark slid his chair closer to hers. “I’ll show you the basics. Now these machines are older models and very simplistic.” Mark reached in front of her and flipped a toggle switch. The light on the machine turned off. “Obviously, this is the on/off switch.” Mark flicked it, and the base of the machine glowed with light.
He leaned back just a little. “Back here is the lever to raise and lower the presser foot, which holds the fabric together while you sew.” The metal piece that surrounded a needle moved up and down.
As Mark pointed to a broken-line symbol on the machine, Sarah tried to concentrate on what he was saying and demonstrating, but their close proximity goosefleshed her skin. The hint of pine she inhaled with each of his movements fogged her mind, making it difficult to process his instructions.
“Now you try.” Mark switched off the sewing machine’s power and scooted back on his chair. He folded his arms over his chest. “Turn the machine on.”
Aware of her rapid breathing, she inhaled deeply then reached up and flicked the ON switch.
“Choose the stitch option.”
Sarah stared at the panel filled with colorful stitch symbols. What had he said the standard stitch was? Straight? She thought it was the single broken line. She wrinkled her nose, closed one eye, and turned a knob until an arrow pointed at that symbol.
“Right. You’re an excellent student. Now lift the presser foot.”
The position of that piece on the sewing machine made it hard to see from the front. Sarah reached her left hand behind the machine and ran her fingers up and down the slender area of plastic. “All I feel is a screw of some type.” She tried to peer through the opening of the machine.
“It’s at the bottom of the arm.” Mark reached up and put his hand over hers. His palm cupped her knuckles as he rested his long fingers over hers. The softness of his skin surprised her as he guided her fingers down the back of the sewing machine arm.
“Feel that?”
Nervous emotion clogged Sarah’s throat. She nodded her response when Mark applied gentle pressure with his fingers as he escorted hers down a break in the plastic.
“That’s the lever’s track.”
He continued the slow descent of their fingers to the bottom of the plastic cover. Sarah felt the blunt end of the lever tucked close to the bottom.
Sarah cleared her throat. “There it is.” She stole a quick glance at Mark then swallowed hard to clear from her throat the giggle of happiness that his touch inspired. “I thought it was higher.”
“I could tell.” Mark removed his hand from hers. “Go ahead and lift up the presser foot.”
Sarah raised the lever up with one finger. The presser foot rose to its upright position. She pulled her hands back to her lap and laced her fingers together, an attempt at composure. Her hands had trembled before, but now she was afraid of full-fledged shakes. She didn’t want Mark to see how his touch affected her.
“Want to try sewing a seam?” Mark reached for some material that lay in the center of the table.
The door buzzer
echoed through the store before Sarah had a chance to answer.
“Excuse me.” Mark stood and walked from the room.
Fear wrestled with relief inside Sarah. If that was a customer, Mark wouldn’t be back, and she’d lost her chance to spend more time alone with him tonight. Sarah had only felt attraction this immediate and strong one other time. She needed to get a grip on her racing pulse and come up with conversation topics. She couldn’t let desire rule her heart and head again. She wanted to know Mark, not just be attracted to him.
Muffled laughter drifted through the workroom door. Sarah wished the room had a window in the wall, like the one in the short wall that separated the darkened office from the workroom. The laughter grew louder as Caroline Baker entered the room. She smiled over her shoulder at the tall man who followed her, laden with shopping bags. Caroline pointed, and he entered the office.
“Hi.” Caroline smiled at Sarah.
Sarah stood up and walked toward Caroline. She extended her hand. “I don’t know if you remember me—”
“Sarah Buckley.” Caroline squeezed Sarah’s extended hand. “Of course, I remember meeting you, here at the store earlier this year. You were wavering on whether you should enroll in my quilting class. I’m glad you decided to sign up, and I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
The tall, handsome gentleman came into the room and handed Caroline a canvas tote bag.
“I don’t think you met my fiancé, Rodney Harris. Rodney, this is Sarah Buckley.”
“Nice to meet you.” Rodney grasped her hand, his rough, dry skin a contrast to Mark’s soft touch.
“It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“Right this way.” Mark stepped aside when he reached the doorframe. A teenage girl and an older gentleman entered the room.
“I believe this is my cue to leave.” Rodney pecked a kiss on Caroline’s check. “See you at eight-thirty.”
The door buzzer beckoned Mark back out to the main store.
“Have fun.” Rodney waved to the quilters as he followed Mark through the door.
Sarah tried to focus on introductions and small talk, but every few seconds she glanced toward the door, hoping to catch another glimpse of Mark.
Dakota Love Page 16
