An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler

by Jennier Chiaverini

  “I’ve written to her five times, and all I get back are these silly form letters and autographed pictures. The same letter, the same photo, each time.”

  Megan laughed. “I bet that’s the same letter and photo I received. I only tried once, though.”

  “Did you notice the return address? It was some agency in Burbank. I don’t remember the name offhand, but I know it wasn’t the mailing address she gave us.”

  Megan hadn’t noticed. “Do you think she isn’t getting our mail? Maybe she just doesn’t want to write back.”

  “Nonsense. She enjoyed herself at camp with us, I’m sure of it. And I don’t think she has so many friends that she can afford to ignore the four of us.”

  “What makes you think she doesn’t have friends?”

  Vinnie shrugged. “Instinct, I suppose. The way she hung around the outside of our circle and never seemed quite comfortable with us, as if she expected us to send her away at any moment. I think our Julia is a bit lost, the poor girl.”

  Megan pondered this in silence. Via email, she and Donna had decided that Julia’s silence was intentional, that the Hollywood superstar had forgotten them as soon as her plane left Pennsylvania. Now she felt ashamed of their assumptions. “What should we do?”

  “I suppose we’ll have to wait to hear from her,” Vinnie said. “But if she thinks we’re ignoring her, we might be waiting a long time.”

  Just then, a young woman wearing a Meadowbrook Village name tag stepped to the front of the room and announced that it was time to award prizes for the best costumes. Robby and Adam returned to the table, discussing strategies for the rest of the games. They had come in third from last in the three-legged race, but were determined to stage a comeback. As prizes were announced in two divisions, one for the residents and one for the children, Megan watched Robby and smiled to herself. His eyes lit up as he and Adam whispered their plans, and he had looked so delighted as he played with the other kids. She wished he could have that joy every day of his life, the pleasure and security of knowing he was liked and wanted. He deserved that much, after what his father had put him through.

  Vinnie and Robby won prizes for their costumes—Vinnie for Prettiest, and Robby for Most Heroic. In fact, Megan realized, every resident and child was awarded something, which meant that near the end of the list, some of the categories became rather far-fetched, such as Most Scientific and Biggest Mask. Vinnie’s prize was a gift certificate to the residents’ holiday craft sale, which would be held in December, and Robby, like all the children, won a small plastic jack-o’-lantern filled with candy.

  It was near Robby’s bedtime by the time the party began to wind down, but since it was a Friday and Robby didn’t have school the next day, Megan agreed to Robby’s request to stay until the end. Afterward, Vinnie invited them back to her condo for coffee—or hot chocolate, in Robby’s case—and some of the brownies she had baked. At first Megan begged off, citing the drive back to Monroe and the piles of treats Robby had eaten already. “I only had two cookies and a popcorn ball,” Robby protested. “That’s hardly anything. I’m starving.”

  “You wouldn’t send a starving child home without one more treat, would you?” Vinnie asked. She and Robby looked up at Megan with expressions of mournful hope, so similar that she had to laugh.

  “All right,” she said. “One small brownie, and you’ll drink milk instead of hot chocolate.”

  Robby let out a cheer and slipped his hand into hers. As they left the clubhouse, though, his jubilance seemed to fade. Megan hoped it was only because he was growing tired, and not that he had suddenly remembered Jason’s party, which was likely just finishing.

  Back at the apartment, Vinnie and Adam went to the kitchen to fix coffee while Megan helped Robby hang up his coat. He was unusually quiet considering his recent excitement, so Megan took her time, waiting for him to speak.

  “Mom?” he finally said. “Why did the kids here at the party like me and the kids at school don’t?”

  Megan felt a pang of sadness. “I don’t know why the kids at school act the way they do, honey.” She knelt beside him and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “But it’s not your fault. The kids here liked you, right? So do the kids from soccer. That proves that you’re a likable, fun kid, someone any sensible person would want for a friend.”

  He looked at her, unbelieving. “Am I fun?”

  “Of course you are,” she exclaimed. “You’re the most fun of any kid I know. You were fun even before you were born.”

  Robby frowned, dubious. “How could I be fun before I was born?”

  Megan rocked back on her heels. “When I was pregnant with you, we used to play games.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “It’s true. I called one of them the Kicking Game. You would kick and I would push back, gently, just like this.” She touched him softly on the stomach. “And you would kick back, and I’d push back, and we go back and forth just like that. And sometimes your dad would rest his head on my stomach and talk to you, and once you kicked him right in the nose!” Robby grinned. “It didn’t hurt, of course. You were so little.”

  “What else did I do?”

  “Well, sometimes I would lie on my back and place my hand flat on my stomach, like this, and you would press up against it.” She remembered thinking at the time that it felt like her baby was curling up in her palm for comfort. “You had a sense of humor, too. Sometimes I would try to let other people feel you moving around. As soon as you starting kicking, I would call for everyone to come running, but as soon as someone else put their hand on my belly, you would hold still. As soon as they lifted their hand, you would kick. So I’d say, ‘The baby’s moving! Come back!’ but when they did—”

  “I held still?”

  “Oh, so you remember now?” She tickled him under the chin until he laughed. “Everyone thought I was making it up, you little goof. You made your mom look pretty silly.”

  “Sorry,” Robby said, but he didn’t look sorry. He looked delighted.

  “You were fun then, and you’re fun now.” Megan hugged him tightly and made a silent promise that she would figure out something, some way to get the kids at school to give him a chance.

  “Let’s go see Vinnie before she thinks we got lost,” she said. She released him and rose, only to find Adam standing at the end of the hall, watching them. Her heart thumped, and she wondered how much he had overheard.

  “Nana wants to know if you’d like regular or decaf.” Adam’s voice was quiet, and he reached out to ruffle Robby’s hair as the boy passed him in search of Vinnie.

  “Either one is fine with me.”

  “Robby’s having trouble in school?”

  Megan shrugged and felt tears pricking her eyes again. “You know how kids are. They have a pack mentality, and unfortunately, Robby’s the one they decided to pick on.”

  “But he’s such a great kid.”

  “I know that. Of course, I’m biased.” She tried to laugh. “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

  Adam came closer, studying her. “It seems like a big deal to you. And to Robby.”

  Suddenly weary, Megan dropped the pretense. “It is. It’s breaking my heart. And it doesn’t help that his father …” She broke off. She didn’t want to talk about Keith, not to Adam. “If only I could figure out some way to help him.”

  “Have you spoken with his teachers?”

  “No.” Megan remembered then that he was a teacher, and felt a stirring of hope. Maybe Adam had known other children like Robby and would know how to help him.

  “His teacher might be able to give you more information. Tell you things Robby won’t.”

  Megan was taken aback. “Robby tells me everything.”

  “No third-grade boy tells his mother everything.” Adam smiled sympathetically. “Trust me. I used to be one. He knows you hurt when he hurts, and he might be trying to protect you.”

  It had never occurred to Megan that Robby might worry about he
r feelings. “I’ll talk to his teacher,” she said.

  “Good.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Nana’s dying to show you some of her quilts.”

  They joined Vinnie and Robby in the living room, where they enjoyed their dessert and talked about the party. Though at first he seemed too wound up to rest, Robby soon fell asleep on the sofa, his head in his mother’s lap. Megan stroked his hair as she, Vinnie, and Adam spoke softly so as not to wake him. Later Vinnie brought out several of her quilt projects for Megan and Adam to admire, then mentioned casually, “Adam is a quilter, too, you know.”

  Megan looked at him in surprise. “No kidding?” She had never met a man who quilted.

  “I’ve made two quilts,” Adam admitted, embarrassed. “They weren’t very good.”

  “Of course they were,” Vinnie protested. “If you stuck with it, you could be very good. Not as good as I am, but still, not too bad.”

  “They were for school,” Adam explained. “We were working on tessellations in geometry class, and I had my students piece quilt blocks that used tessellating shapes.”

  “He likes to use examples from real life,” Vinnie added. “Otherwise his students pester him with ‘When are we ever going to need to know this?’ every time he teaches them something new.”

  “Some still say that,” Adam said. “But now they also ask, ‘When am I ever going to make a quilt?’”

  Vinnie laughed so loudly that Robby stirred. Megan glanced at her watch and couldn’t believe how much time had passed. With regret, she told Vinnie she had to get Robby home. She helped Adam carry the dishes to the kitchen, then collected Robby’s treats and woke him. “It’s time to go home, sweetheart,” she murmured in his ear. He nodded sleepily and said good-bye to Vinnie. When he called her Nana, Vinnie broke into a broad grin and hugged him. She hugged Megan, too, and whispered that she hoped they’d see each other again soon.

  Adam walked her to the car, a half-asleep Robby between them. They helped him into the front passenger seat, then Megan went around to her side. “Well,” she said. “It was nice seeing you.” She extended her hand.

  “It was nice seeing you, too.” He held her hand for a moment before releasing it. “If I can think of some way to help Robby, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I could call you….” He hesitated. “Or maybe you’d rather have me tell my grandmother, and have her call you?”

  “You can call. Vinnie has my number.”

  Adam smiled. “Great. I’ll get it from her.”

  Megan nodded, trying to keep her teeth from chattering in the late October chill that had settled in after nightfall. Adam noticed and said, “I guess you’d better go.” Megan nodded again and got into the car. Adam shut the door for her, then stood on the sidewalk and watched as they drove away.

  Robby woke in time to wave good-bye. “I like Adam and Nana,” he told her.

  “So do I.”

  “I think Adam likes you.”

  Megan felt a jolt. How would Robby feel if Adam did? How would she feel? Keeping her voice casual, she asked, “Why do you say that?”

  “He said you were beautiful.”

  “I think he was talking about my costume.”

  “No, I remember. He said, ‘You look beautiful.’”

  Megan didn’t know what to say. “He was probably just being nice.”

  “Whatever you say, Mom,” Robby said in such a world-weary tone that she had to laugh. She reached over and tousled his hair as he grinned and tried to duck away.

  As Robby dropped off to sleep again, Megan thought about Adam. It had been a long time since anyone but her parents had told her she looked beautiful. She wondered if he meant it. He seemed sincere enough, and if he had been trying to flatter her, he could have done better than that. Keith knew how to lay on the charm and lay it on thick. Within ten minutes of conversation, he could have any woman feeling as if she were the most remarkable person in the universe. Unfortunately, Keith would make every woman in the room feel that way, even when his wife was watching.

  How had Keith changed from the loving husband who played the Kicking Game with his unborn son to the sort of man who chafed under the yoke of marital fidelity? Or had he always had a wandering eye? Was her sense of judgment so impaired that she had overlooked such a significant flaw, or had she deliberately ignored it, hoping he would change?

  She supposed she would never know for certain—but she would never make that mistake again.

  Nana was waiting for Adam just inside the door. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “What did you think?”

  Adam feigned ignorance. “About what?”

  “Don’t torment me. About Megan. What did you think of her?”

  “She seems like a very lovely woman.”

  “And pretty.”

  He had noticed. “That, too.” He bent forward to kiss his grandmother on the cheek, careful to avoid the red Raggedy Ann circle she had painted there. “I have to get going. Thanks for the party. I had a good time.”

  She scowled at him. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

  “That’s all,” he said, cheerful but firm. Anything he told Nana would be reported back to Megan and probably half the residents of Meadowbrook Village.

  “Well, take her phone number, at least,” she said grumpily, handing him an index card with Megan’s name and phone number, as well as her postal and email addresses.

  “Thanks, Nana.”

  “Will you at least tell me if you like her?” Nana pleaded as he left.

  “I like her,” he said. “Good night.” He kissed her again and shut the door.

  As he drove home to Cincinnati, Adam admitted to himself that he’d had a much better time than he had expected. He had come to the party mostly to appease his grandmother, and only partly because the green-eyed woman from the diner intrigued him. He liked the way she had agreed to share the apple pie with him, as if she were a decent, down-to-earth person and expected him to be one, too. In Megan’s place, Natalie would have given him a cold, withering glare and written him off as a lunatic. Natalie had certain ideas of what was proper and what was not, and splitting desserts with strangers would definitely fall into the latter category. After years of trying to please Natalie and soothe her unpredictable temper, Megan’s willingness to take a chance had been refreshing.

  Should he call her? He wasn’t sure Megan wanted that. She had been friendly enough, but there had been a reluctance about her, as if she were afraid of bruising herself. Considering what Nana had told him about her ex-husband, Adam wasn’t surprised. He was resuming dating rather gingerly himself, and he and Natalie had been together only five years. How much more difficult it must be for Megan, who had married this man and had a child with him, only to be betrayed. At least Natalie hadn’t been dishonest with him; she had always been perfectly clear about what she wanted, and equally clear about her displeasure when he failed to deliver.

  The breakup had been coming for months. In hindsight, he supposed he knew Natalie was going to leave him long before she did.

  They had met at a wedding. One of Adam’s cousins was the bride; Natalie was a friend of the groom. He was first attracted to her dark-haired beauty, and later, her unpredictability and passion for life drew him in deeper. When they were together she made him feel that like her, he, too, was exciting and passionate. Even years later, when infatuation grew into love and he thought they understood each other as well as any two separate people could, he still wasn’t sure why Natalie had been interested in him at the start. She said his personality, especially his kindness and honesty, had drawn her to him, but he wondered about that, since those had been the very things that had later driven her away.

  He had been teaching in the parochial school system for several years by then and had always been open about his plans to remain in the profession. Natalie had recently been hired as an assistant to the associate buyer for an upscale depart
ment store chain whose flagship store was in downtown Cincinnati, but her ambitions aimed higher. She had a six-year plan to become the principal buyer for the entire chain, and a ten-year plan to be named a vice president.

  Before he met Natalie, Adam had spent weekday evenings quietly at home, grading papers and planning the next day’s lessons. An eventful night might involve attending one of the school sporting events or chaperoning a dance. Natalie, meanwhile, took business associates out for drinks, hosted dinner parties, or attended social events where she would be likely to brush shoulders with the “right people,” as she called them. To please her, and because he loved her and wanted to be with her, Adam became her willing escort. He was proud of her beauty and the ease with which she could charm even the most reserved or withdrawn. If the conversations at these gatherings tended toward the trivial, the irrelevant, the shallow, he could ignore that for her sake. As Natalie said, such socializing was important for her career, and if rising in her company would make her happy, Adam wanted to help in any way he could.

  He knew his friends thought them an unlikely pair. In the past Adam had always dated women who had chosen the helping professions, women with a strong sense of social justice and commitment to social change—women more like himself. Natalie’s beauty they understood well enough, but not her craving for material signs of status and wealth. Still, they were his friends and accepted his choices and always treated Natalie courteously enough. They did not know how Natalie picked them apart behind their backs, criticizing their clothing, their cars, what she called their appalling lack of ambition. Only Adam’s former college roommate, a gentle man who had become a Benedictine monk, cautioned him against rushing into a lifetime commitment. “Don’t lose sight of who you really are,” John advised, and said nothing more on the subject.

  But John’s words stayed with Adam, and he began to reflect on what he became when he was with Natalie. He felt as if he were playing a role to please her, setting aside everything that truly mattered to him. He didn’t like what that said about him, especially since compartmentalizing his life like that contradicted every value he tried to instill in his students.