Only part of the quilt face showed. Most of the top and the last bit of bottom were rolled under so that Lena was working on two and a half feet of quilt. The top of Haystack Rock was rolled under but the base with the tide halfway around it was still recognizable as one my favorite places in the world to walk and breathe and listen to the birds squawk at each other fighting over bits of clam or crab.
"Sam, you could stand to learn a thing or two and become humble, at least about what you don't know. Quilt humble."
We both looked to where she was pointing to the stitching around the base of the Rock. Tiny stitches.
"See, count them." She pulled a small ruler from the deep pocket at the hem of her shirt and laid it on the material--uh, fabric. "Twelve stitches to the inch. Perfectly outlining the base of the rock where it rises from the sand, suggesting that the water is moving."
We looked. The stitches were so small as to be nearly invisible, pulling just enough at the cloth to bring suggestion of movement to the piece.
Sam reached to trace the stitching, but Magda's hand stopped his, gently, as Lena said, "Don't touch!" He pulled it back but without the anger that her remark alone might have spurred.
"It's nice. You do good work. I gotta admit it." Sam said.
All I could think was, how does she do this?
At Sam's compliment Lena's feathers laid right back down again. Her moods appeared to change quickly.
"Oh, it's nothing. You could do it, if you wanted."
"And I don't!" he said, laughing.
Magda said, "Would you like some apple pie? I made one up this morning from that tree out there. That dang bear didn't get them all. He sure tore up the ground, though, where the kids next door moved the table. They got some apples for their mom and left a tubful for me, so I made a pie."
"Sounds good to me," said Sam, "Miss Prickly here could use some sweetening."
Before Lena could answer, Magda took his hand and he followed her out of the room. "Coming?" she said over her shoulder at us.
"I want to look at this. Be right there. Lena, how do you do this?"
"Carefully, one stitch at a time. But it's not so hard, I've been doing this since I was a child. My grandma lived with us and she taught me. She was the best quilter in the state!"
"Looks to me like you must be that, now."
"I do my best." she said.
"Could you teach me?" What was I saying?
"Not me. But that's why you're here to see Magda, isn't it? She's a natural at it. If you got something to learn about quilting, Magda's your teacher."
Is that why I'm here? Or am I parting romantic waters for Sam?
Chapter 10
A Surprise For Me
We sat around the kitchen. The apple pie was possibly the best I've ever eaten.
Magda said, "When I was growing up I made pies for my mom's restaurant downtown. It seemed to be the only talent I had. These are fresh apples and a tad overripe. I let myself go on the sugar with a good dollop of nutmeg and cinnamon mixed with butter. The sugar, spices and juice mix to make a lovely sludge. Of course I can't tell you the secret of the crust." She rolled her eyes to the garbage where she'd tossed the pre-made pie crust wrapper, and let out that laugh again that gurgled up from her tummy.
Sam joined her. I was laughing with them when Lena came in.
"Oh, whew!" Magda slowed her laughter.
Sam said, "Oh, boy! Nothing I like better'n a woman who knows how to cook old fashioned. Here, sourpuss." He pushed out the chair beside him, "This pie will sweeten you up."
Lena glared at him but set herself down. She cut a slice of pie and slid it onto the dessert plate Magda handed her.
"Coffee, Lena? Fresh from the Thermos. Made it this morning." Lena started to rise.
Sam put his hand on her shoulder and got up instead. "I can do that. I'd like some too. Cups?"
Magda pointed to the open cupboard and he took down two cups. "Annie?"
I wanted tea so Magda put on the teakettle.
"Did you say a bear'd been at the apples this morning?" Sam said.
"Boy, howdy, yes! I think I just missed him, musta run off when I slammed the back door. The pile he left for me was still steaming."
"Oh, Mag, we're eating here!" said Lena, but the pie was doing its work. The corners of her mouth were twitching upwards. She took another bite of pie, "Pretty good pie even though it's almost too sweet for me."
I swear she simpered at Sam. What was with this woman? Five minutes ago she was glaring at him.
The whistle of the tea kettle interrupted this sudden coziness. Magda poured hot water into the teapot, let it steep for a few minutes, and filled my cup.
Sam had watched Magda's movements in the tea process. "Could we go out and look at your orchard? I'd like to see where the bear was, and to have a gander at your yard."
I thought that he'd also like to be alone with Magda.
"Just a minute. I'm almost done here." Lena shifted in her chair as if she was ready to get up.
"You just take a rest here, we'll be right back." When she threw a questioning look at him, he winked. "Oh, Sweet Pea, I'm sure you don't want to see bear shit."
"Oh. Yeah." She settled back in her chair. "Not finished with my coffee yet, anyways. You two be careful where you step. I noticed earlier that the boys used the table to pick the apples. That will need to be moved back to where it was."
They didn't hear the last part because they were going out the back door. Magda was laughing at Sam, who'd said something about the bear fertilizing the lawn.
While Sam and Magda walked around the back yard, we could hear their muted voices through the screen of the open kitchen window, see Sam leaning against the table while he watched Magda pick up apples and put them in the tub the boys had used.
Lena and I cleared the pie things, and she took me into the master bedroom that I'd seen on the way to the ocean quilt. I thought I knew what the large contraption in the middle of the room was. "Is this another quilting frame?"
"Yes, a longarm, for machine quilting."
"Machine quilting? I've heard of it, but this is huge. Is this yours or Magda's?"
She had just answered, "Magda's," when Sam and Magda came in. She asked him, "Did you put the picnic table back where it belonged?"
Magda answered her, "Oh, we forgot. It's okay the way it is. Oh, good. Annie, you've seen what we'll probably end up doing your quilt on."
Lena said to herself, "No matter. I'll do it myself. Later."
"Huh?" was all I could say.
"Sam told me about you finding a quilt of his mother's that you need to finish."
I continued to stare at her, and then snapped my mouth shut, opening it only to say, "Sam!"
"He's out in the car, bringing it in so we can get started on the plan, see what we will need to do to finish it."
I didn't know we had the quilt with us. That Sam can be a sneaky sort.
"News to me. Why am I always the last to know? And I don't think this is going to happen. I don't quilt." I heard the car door slam and lickity split Sam was back in the room with us, holding a large paper tote with "Cannon Beach Groceries" printed on it. The very one he'd been using for his dirty clothes.
"Here we are." He was smiling ear to ear, pleased with himself. "A surprise for you, Annie, my girl. Magda's gonna help us."
"Us?"
"Yah, you'll finish the quilt."
"And you're going to do what?"
"Watch. Encourage. Be happy when I see Mom's quilt done."
Magda said, "You could enter it in our quilt show." Those two were off and running.
"Have you two been drinking out there under the apple tree? I thought there was a process involved to get hard cider!"
They ignored me. "Here, Sammy..."
"Sammy?"
"Put it here on this table, let's have a look."
He upended the tote onto the table, spilling out the pieces of velvet and corduroy. Magda began squaring them up,
sorting the material into like piles. "Nice. Oh this will be interesting to make up." She looked at me, surely noting my twisted mouth. "You are going to have such fun. And with these heavy fabrics you will be better off machine quilting it."
"Me? Machine quilt it?"
She was ignoring me. "Oh, I like these flowered prints. Corduroy. Haven't seen such for years. You know, fabric runs in fads, like clothing styles."
"Before anybody quilts this you must teach me." I spread my hands over the spilled cloth, suddenly feeling proprietary over the pieces.
"Don't worry, honey, I'll do it with you. Sammy here can help us."
I remembered my one sewing class in high school Home Ec and my frustration as the teacher had, over and over, said, "Annie, you must rip that out."
I'd made an apron and a blouse and a simple dress. All had been so painful with the amount of ripping out and re-sewing that I'd not sewn much since. At Christmas I get inspired to make simple gifts, pillowcases and placemats and such, but I'd found someone who I could pay to do our mending and Roger had been okay with it.
I quailed at being dragged into this world of quilting. But, my ego wouldn't let me hand this over, either. I equivocated. "No, wait! It's all too tricky."
Magda put her hand on my shoulder. "Not 'tricky', Annie. A little hard to begin with, but once you get on to it you'll see it's wonderfully easy and so relaxing. You'll never know all the problems I've solved just by sewing them away."
Chapter 11
Sewing Away the Winter Blues, With Len
Magda said to us both, "I trust you brought your mat, grid rulers, and rotary cutter with you?" I stared at her, then at Sam, whose mouth dropped open.
"Uh, what?" he said.
"Your tools! Quilting tools. It's no matter, I have plenty here, just that some people like to use their own supplies. I bet you forgot your sewing machine, too."
I turned on him, accusingly.
"I figured you'd have needle and thread and scissors. What else could she need? I never even heard of those other things, whatchamacallits, and, rotary cutters? None of this is for me, it's for you, Annie." Sam turned to me, as if eager to put this all back on my plate, even though he'd started the ball rolling by bringing Sophie's unfinished quilt.
"Well, no matter. Let's see what we have here and what we need to do." Magda's matter of fact manner relaxed that ache between my shoulders.
"If you'll help me I'd like to get it finished." I said. In response she handed me a round, flattish bowl with a magnetic center. In it were long pins with flat yellow heads. Easy to grab and to pin with.
All my quilt pieces were there and already cut.
Magda smiled at me. "I knew you had the makings of a quilter!" Her hands were slapping the pieces around in different configurations, when her fingers seized on the old piece of brown notebook paper printed with gridded squares, the paper that I'd found when I had first looked at it--Sophie's diagram of the quilt. I'd forgotten it. Written across the top in Aunt Sophie's careful penmanship was Sam's wedding quilt. I'd missed that in my initial, quick inventory.
In pencil she had labeled the simple drawing of the triangles and squares of her design with the kinds of fabrics to be used: "velvet, corduroy, cotton", and named the colors: "purple, flowers", and so on.
Magda, examined it. "This is certainly going to help," which is what I'd said when I first found it. Using Aunt Sophie's pattern, we laid out the pieces on the large table.
"What size do you want this to be?" She smoothed out the pieces. "Perhaps you want a sashing between these blocks?"
At this Sam started inching away. "Uh, I'll just be outside. Want me to pick up some more apples, Maggie? Maybe move the table?"
She stopped smoothing. "Hold her Newt! Young man, this is your project as well. You're gonna help here."
"Oh, Magda," I said with a laugh, "I don't think Sam knows much about this business."
"It's high time he started taking responsibility for finishing what he starts."
I wondered if she was just talking about quilts, but let it slide when he reeled back into the room as if she had a string on him.
"What do you want me to do? I can wield scissors with the best of them!"
"Twin, queen, king?" She nudged me. "Bed size, Annie. What size do you want this quilt to be?" She walked around the table. "Sophie was just working it out herself. Discovered she didn't have enough fabric. You want a wedding quilt to be large enough to fit on a double bed, or a queen."
She pulled a small chart from a drawer "Okay. Your first decision. What size?" I took the chart from her, looking at numbers that meant nothing to me. I knew my bed at home was a queen, and picked the numbers under that heading. "Eighty-four inches by ninety-two inches."
Magda was still talking to herself, but listening to me. "So she switched to another style that she must of had enough fabric for."
I went to hand the chart back to her.
"Keep it. You're going to need it at the fabric store." She went back to shifting the pieces around. "This is going to be complicated because I don't have any of this velvet or corduroy fabric. She bought them to match but didn't get enough. The whole thing got unwieldy."
She led us back to the first room, gestured at the shelves of fabric lining the walls. "We'll see if I have what you need. Let's start here. Are we going to sash it, or add the width and length to the outer edges?"
She explained sashing. "Each square is framed by one connecting fabric. Brings it all together."
I found that I did have an opinion. "Oh, no! I don't want it broken up. I want Sophie's original design to stay as it is."
"You're going to need to add fabric. Accept it." She led us to a colorful pile of bolts of cloth on a shelf. Here, help me pull these down. Put 'em on the table." We worked free several bolts of different shades of red and a multicolored cotton with tiny splashes matching the deep red in Sophie's velveteen.
"The easiest way to lengthen this to a Queen is to put a large border around it, extending it at the top and bottom."
"For interest and eye appeal, it's best to bring your contrast and color all the way to the edge. It needs brightening up for a modern look. I like a splash of good color. Don't you, Sammy?"
He looked at her, goggle-eyed, shrugged his shoulders.
She pulled out a pen, started calculating how much more fabric we would need. Math. My stomach lurched. My brain was beginning to spin.
My cell phone rang. "I'll just take this outside," I said, but they weren't paying attention. They were busy playing with fabric options, with numbers, with each other. I was glad for the call.
"Hey, Sweets."
Len's old nickname for me. At his voice I felt a tiny glow start.
"I have news for you."
Chapter 12
Balancing Act
"Where are you right now?"
"In Willamina, working on Aunt Sophie's quilt."
"Willamina? Wait a minute, isn't that where those Quilt Guild women are from? Are you hooked up with them? Honey, I can teach you whatever you need to know."
"About quilting?"
"Sweets, I can show you a lots of things I've learned since I saw you last." A low and teasing tone.
Hmmm. Perhaps I should take him up on this.
"Well, even though I already know everything there is to know, perhaps even I could learn something. About quilting." We set a time for the next day. I would take Sam to his date with his friend at the care center, leave him there and meet Len at an old house he was remodeling.
"It's kinda rough, but I think you'll like the place. And I'll show you my etchings... I mean quilt setup. I have some tricks that I'd love to teach you."
I could feel prickles of sweat pop out along my spine. He'd always had that effect on me. I would plan to pick Sam up in a couple of hours. That would be plenty of time to feel Len out about quilting, and who he'd become. Maybe learn something?
And I would have a reason to leave before I compromised mysel
f. Maybe.
When I went back inside, Magda got right to the point. "Now Annie, I don't have a lot of time, but you, and Sammy of course--I couldn't get used to "Sammy"--are always welcome here, and we must get cracking on Sophie's wedding quilt so you can enter it in the Quilt Show."
"What quilt show?"
She laughed. "Our quilt show, of course."
"Oh, I don't think so, Magda. I don't know a lot about quilting but I know to be in a show a quilt has to be just about perfect. And I'm certainly not going to hand quilt it." The Quilt Show was in mid-November, part of a town-involved project, The Coastal Hills Art Walk, to kick off the Christmas season. It sounded like fun, before I'd been told that I might be part of it.
I was both attracted and repelled by the idea. I certainly wanted to get the quilt done for Aunt Sophie. Doing it was beginning to be attractive, a challenge that, maybe, I could do. If it didn't turn out well, I could always refuse to let it in the show.
"Doesn't need to be hand quilted. You'll enter it as machine stitched. I'm on the committee, it will get in. I'll make sure you do a good job."
On Labor Day we'd come for breakfast, on my way to taking "Sammy" back to Cannon Beach. We'd set a time for my first lesson, then.
Sam was delighted. His few days with Cousin Annie was working out well for him.
Chapter 13
Magda's Thoughts
I must admit, Sampson is appealing. Is it his hair?
I joke. I am a married woman. I need to control myself here. And for gosh sakes, he is an old guy. Oh, but he does not look or act old to me.
As for Annie, she needs my help for sure, and there are few things I like to do more than teach someone how to quilt. It is a skill that has strengthened me when nothing else could. Gives me a challenge at the same time it soothes me.
I've needed it as Tommy has been a trial, this marriage was most likely a mistake but I could not, would not be dissuaded when my mother warned me about his wandering ways and his wandering eyes. He told me that only I could make him whole, settle him down. I did want to believe him.
Scandal Page 5
