Sister's Choice

by Judith Pella

  “Well, it doesn’t matter,” the sheriff added quickly. “Tommy ran once. I won’t risk his running again.”

  Maggie and Zack wasted no more time there. They were both anxious to get away from the sheriff, Maggie for her secret, and Zack probably because he feared the man might find a reason to arrest him after all.

  They found Ellie in Dolman’s. Everything on Mama’s list had been carried out to the wagon, and now Ellie was looking through some of Mr. Dolman’s catalogues.

  “Maggie, I have to show you something,” she said excitedly as they entered the store. “Zack, you can’t look. Okay?”

  He smiled. “I’ll just go out to the wagon and see that everything is secured.”

  When he was gone, Ellie opened one of the catalogues to a page of wedding gowns. She poked her finger at one in particular. “That’s it. That’s the gown I want.”

  “It’s really beautiful,” Maggie said, trying to make her enthusiasm equal her sister’s. She was, in fact, glad to have something to take her mind off the trip to the jail. “Do you think Mama will let you buy a store-bought dress?” She saw that the price was thirty-five dollars and fifty cents! That was more than a month’s wages at the sawmill.

  “Of course not, and I wouldn’t ask for something so extravagant. But Mama can surely make a pattern from this picture, and if not, Grandma definitely can. Mr. Dolman said this catalog will be replaced with a new one in a few weeks and I can have it after that. Until then, I’ve made a sketch to show Mama.”

  “Wow, Ellie!” Maggie said, her voice slightly rough with emotion. “You are really getting married! I’m going to miss you.”

  “It’s not as if I’ll be leaving Maintown.”

  “But everything will change.”

  “It won’t be long before you’ll be married, too.” But Ellie looked a little uncertain herself, as if the excitement of getting married had made her forget what being married meant.

  Maggie was worried they both might start to cry right there, so she quickly added, “Have you found me a bridesmaid dress?”

  Ellie flipped over a page in the catalog. “What about this? Perhaps in pink?”

  “Ellie, you really wouldn’t make me wear something so frilly!” Maggie forgot her previous melancholy. “It looks as if they used every inch of lace in the country to make it.”

  “Oh, but my heart is set on it,” Ellie beseeched.

  “Well . . . ”

  Ellie burst out laughing. “Even I wouldn’t wear that dress,” she said between giggles.

  Maggie gave her sister a playful punch in the arm. “I guess you got me good.”

  “It doesn’t happen often. Your mind must be elsewhere. Oh! That reminds me. I have a thought about—”

  Just then Zack poked his head into the store. “You ladies about ready?”

  They were in the buckboard and headed home when Ellie returned to the thought she had left incomplete earlier. “Maggie, I was thinking about what you said last night, you know, about how you’ll never get around Mrs. Stoddard to get to Colby—”

  “Ellie!” Maggie gave a quick, uncomfortable glance in Zack’s direction. She and Zack could talk about a lot of things, but never about her romantic troubles.

  “Zack already knows about you and Colby,” Ellie stated matter-of-factly. “I didn’t think you’d mind. Zack and I talk about everything.”

  “She didn’t have to say much,” put in Zack. “It’s pretty obvious how you nearly melt when he’s around.”

  Maggie groaned. “I suppose everyone knows! Even Colby.

  I’m such a fool.”

  “Only those who know you well can tell,” Ellie said. “It’s really not that obvious.” She gave a sideways glance at Zack.

  “Not at all,” Zack recanted, but rather lamely. “I could tell only because I already knew.”

  With a shrug Maggie asked, “So what were you thinking, Ellie? I obviously need every bit of help I can get.”

  “There is one thing that will surely impress Mrs. Stod-dard—your sewing ability.”

  “I’m doomed, then. If you and Mama couldn’t teach me, then it is impossible.”

  “You are forgetting the one person who can teach you to sew if no one else can—Grandma Spooner.” Ellie grinned triumphantly, as if it solved everything.

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “She’ll be able to teach you. I know,” Ellie said.

  “What if I’m just a sewing dunce?”

  “You have never learned because you were never properly motivated. You never cared about learning. You’ve got some motivation now, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe.” Visions leaped into Maggie’s mind of her making a fabulous quilt of fancy laid-on work with tiny stitches that would make one cross-eyed trying to find them. She saw Mrs. Stoddard’s eyes light up with admiration, immediately nudging her son into Maggie’s arms. The fantasy was enough to raise her hopes a little. “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes, and I think it is meant to be with Grandma coming now.”

  “Does Tamara Brennan sew?” Maggie asked, though she was pretty sure of the answer.

  Ellie replied honestly. “We learned needlepoint at Mrs. Dubois’, and she was very accomplished at that.”

  “I’ll never be able to learn before she gets her clutches into Colby.”

  “You’ve got to try.”

  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask Grandma.”

  FIVE

  Mama probably didn’t like the fact that she was a younger image of her mother, just as Maggie wasn’t thrilled when everyone also told her that she, Maggie, was exactly like her mama. It wasn’t that Maggie didn’t love and admire her mother and even aspire to many of her finer qualities, but like anyone else, she wanted her own identity, wanted to be unique. Not to mention the fact that she and Mama were constantly butting heads. Could it be they argued so much because they were alike? Had Mama and Grandma argued a lot when Mama was younger? They seemed to get on well now.

  “Maggie, you are being unusually pensive,” Grandma said.

  “Huh?” Maggie replied, pulling her thoughts back to focus on the activity in the Newcomb kitchen. She was just in time to catch her mother casting a peculiar glance in Grandma’s direction, like an unspoken signal or something she hadn’t intended for Maggie to see. What was that all about?

  “Goodness! I am so happy to be here.” Grandma reached across the table and patted Maggie’s hand. “I have missed my grandchildren.”

  “Too bad I’m the only one around right now,” Maggie said. Grandma had arrived that afternoon. Not knowing exactly when Grandma would come, Ellie had run into Maintown to get thread at the general store. She would be home soon. Boyd was working up at the lumber camp and wouldn’t be home until Saturday. Dad was out in the field harvesting their potatoes, and Georgie was helping him—Maggie would have been there, too, except Mama thought there ought to be some kind of welcoming committee to greet Grandma. So it was just Mama and Maggie on hand for Grandma’s arrival.

  “I am going to make it a point to spend some alone time with each one of you this visit.” Grandma Spooner was the kind of grandmother whose statement like that didn’t make you cringe. Maggie had always enjoyed her company. And, now that she thought about it, if Mama was like Grandma and Maggie was like Mama, then it stood to reason that Maggie was also like Grandma. That wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  But Maggie sure didn’t feel like Grandma, who was kind, thoughtful, and even serene. She always said the right thing, was never selfish, and, of course, was very skilled in all the womanly pursuits. Maggie wondered what the woman had been like when she was younger. Had she argued with her mother about things? Had she felt out of step with other girls her age? And clumsy with boys? Surely not.

  “Grandma,” Maggie ventured, “since that’s what you’d like to do, may I suggest something you and I might do?” She suddenly felt shy and awkward. If she continued, both the older women at the table would question her mot
ives, and it would be embarrassing to explain.

  “Of course.”

  Maggie forged ahead. “Well, I was wondering if . . . well, if—that is, if there is time. I mean, there probably won’t be, and I would understand. In fact . . .” Her resolve crumbled with each word. “I know there won’t be, time, that is. It would take forever—”

  “Why don’t you let me decide if there is time?” Grandma said. “Tell me what you’d like to do.”

  “Maggie, I have never known you to be so tongue-tied,” put in Mama.

  Now there definitely were going to be questions. Maggie rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. But she made herself go on. “Okay, I-I’d like you to teach me to sew,” she finished in a rush.

  “I’d love to,” Grandma enthused.

  Mama opened her mouth to speak, but Grandma shot her a glance, kind of an unspoken signal as Mama had done earlier, but this was also like a mother hushing her child. Mama clamped her mouth shut. It was almost as if they already knew Maggie’s motives, but they couldn’t possibly know. Only Ellie and Zack knew about Colby. Mama may have guessed, but she couldn’t have said anything to Grandma. They hadn’t been alone since her arrival.

  Maggie was relieved there wasn’t going to be an interrogation about her request. She had feared Mama might take offense at Maggie’s going over her head to get help from Grandma. But maybe she understood that Maggie’s case was hopeless enough to warrant outside help.

  Before they had a chance to discuss Maggie’s request further, Ellie returned from town, Dad and Georgie came in from working in the fields, and the house was full of bustle. Grandma fit into it all very easily, as if she had always been there. Indeed, Mama would love nothing more than to have Grandma come live with them, but she feared if that happened Grandmother Newcomb would want the same arrangement, or at the least she’d have her feelings hurt by being left out. The irony was that Grandmother and Granddad Newcomb would have jumped at the chance to live with their son and his family, while Grandma Spooner steadfastly insisted on keeping her own home. Mama had once said, when she didn’t think anyone was listening, that Mother Newcomb only wanted to live with them in order to make Mama’s life miserable.

  When dinner was cleared away and the dishes done, Grandma sat at the kitchen table and asked Maggie to join her.

  “Shall we talk a bit about your request to learn to sew?” Grandma asked.

  “What do you mean?” Maggie was suspicious. Now the questions would come.

  “I just want to get an idea of what you want to learn, of where you’d like to start.”

  “From the beginning, I guess.”

  “I don’t think we have to go that far back, do you?”

  Maggie glanced over at her mother seated in her rocking chair by the hearth, a sewing project in her hands, her concentration on her work. She didn’t appear to be listening to the conversation at the table.

  “Mama has tried hard to teach me,” Maggie said, just in case her mother was listening. “I probably know the basics, but I never paid close attention.”

  “Who’s to say you will pay attention now?”

  “Ellie said I would because I am more motivated.”

  “That is a good start. It will certainly make a difference. May I ask why you are more motivated now than you were before?”

  That, of course, was the very question Maggie didn’t want to answer. But maybe she should be honest, get it all out in the open. It was still no less embarrassing. Perhaps a version of the truth would suffice.

  “I am all grown-up, Grandma. I am going to have a home and family soon. It is just time I learned, don’t you think?”

  Grandma smiled, a small smile, more a twitch at the corners of her mouth. It was as if she was restraining a big grin so Maggie wouldn’t feel silly.

  “Would you like to make clothing, or knit—”

  “I want to make a quilt,” Maggie replied emphatically. “Not some simple nine-patch, either, but something spectacular. A Feathered Star or Mariner’s Compass or Rose of Sharon.”

  “Eventually, yes.”

  “I need to make it now, before you leave!”

  Maggie heard a noise by the hearth, and her head jerked in that direction. Mama was looking at her. She had been listening. But she quickly glanced away, and Maggie chose to ignore the moment, as well.

  Now Grandma made no pretense of a smile, instead letting one bend her lips unrestrained, showing the gold tooth she had in front. “There is one thing a teacher loves, and that’s an enthusiastic student!”

  Ellie strolled over to the table. “My first quilt was a four-patch.”

  “You were five,” Maggie said.

  “No matter a person’s age,” Grandma said, “you simply can’t get ahead of yourself, Maggie. If you bite off more than you can chew, you could become discouraged and give up.”

  “I won’t give up, Grandma.” Maggie’s tone was full of solemn determination. She was grateful Grandma didn’t smile this time but took her words seriously.

  “Why don’t we take a look at some of your previous work?” Grandma suggested. “Then I can get an idea of where you are in your skills.”

  “I don’t know if I can find anything right off,” Maggie hedged. In truth, she didn’t know where any of her unfinished projects were, and she certainly had no finished things to show. Usually she would start something, then get frustrated or bored and toss it aside, eventually losing track of the thing.

  Mama quietly rose from her chair and went to the chest in a corner of the front room where she kept special things. Her wedding gown was in that chest, each of her children’s christening gowns, a few photographs, and a couple of quilts that had been passed to her from her grandmother. She lifted out a fabric-covered box and carried it over to the table. Opening the lid she took out some items Maggie recognized.

  “Those are mine?” Maggie half questioned, though she knew the answer.

  “I kept everything,” Mama said.

  Maggie was amazed that when she had thoughtlessly cast something aside, her mother had found it, rescued it, and stored it away. Mama proceeded to spread out several quilt blocks that were in various stages of completion. A nine-patch, with only eight patches; a Log Cabin with several logs missing; a Bird in the Air block that Maggie must have tackled when she felt unusually confident because it is a tricky pattern of triangles. She had only done a couple, and those were crooked and puckered. There was half a doll quilt of which Maggie had only completed four patches. She hadn’t even been able to finish something as simple as that.

  When Mama had emptied the box, Maggie saw that the things were not just from when she was young. One block, a Churn dash, had been started about a year ago. Not only was the sewing bad in this, but the cut pieces were skewed, throwing off the entire block.

  “Oh, Mama,” lamented Maggie, “please put them away! I’m so embarrassed!”

  “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, dear,” Mama said. “Anyway, you are among family. No one is going to judge you.”

  Maggie couldn’t resist a quick glance at Ellie.

  “I won’t judge you,” Ellie said earnestly.

  “It is still embarrassing.” She glanced again at the pile of lopsided, catawampus, puckered attempts at stitchery. Even she knew she could have done at least a little better, especially on that most recent piece. She just hadn’t cared to. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I?” she asked, even though she knew what they would answer. Maybe she was looking for an escape. Maybe she wasn’t as motivated as she thought. Yet when an image of Colby leaped into her mind, her resolve strengthened. She just had to win him.

  Gritting her teeth, she added, “Okay, where do we start?”

  “It is a bit late to start tonight,” Grandma said.

  “Oh, I can do it. I’m wide awake,” insisted Maggie.

  “But your grandmother has been traveling all day,” Mama said.

  “We need to be fresh for this,” added Grandma. “We will start in the morning after br
eakfast.”

  They didn’t start right after breakfast the next day, for all the morning chores had to be done first, but finally Grandma called Maggie to the table. Maggie had thought she would dread this moment but was surprised to realize she had actually been anticipating it.

  Grandma’s sewing basket, which she always brought with her when she visited, sat on the table. She also brought a box of scraps that she could trade with Mama.

  “I wish I had known we were going to do this,” Grandma said, “because there are a few other things I would have packed, but we will make do. Come and sit down, Maggie.”

  As Maggie took a chair, Ellie wandered over to the table. Maggie glanced in her direction.

  “Ellie,” Grandma said, “I know you are interested in this, but you won’t mind if Maggie and I do this alone, will you? It might make Maggie nervous to have someone looking on.”

  “I guess not,” Ellie replied.

  “We will do something together, you and I, later.”

  Mama called Ellie into the kitchen to help with the laundry, which had been put off on Monday because of Grandma’s arrival.

  Grandma turned to Maggie. “Now, this is the template we will work with.” She picked up a cardboard piece, about four inches square, that she had taken from Mama’s pattern box. “We are going to start with a nine-patch—”

  “But, Grandma—”

  “Now, Maggie, if this is going to succeed, you must promise you won’t argue with every instruction I give—”

  “But—”

  “What do you say, dear?” Her tone was gentle but firm. Of course Grandma knew Maggie’s propensity for debate and was trying to nip that in the bud.

  “Okay,” Maggie said, trying not to pout. She was an adult and must act like it if her grandmother was going to take her seriously.

  “You may think a nine-patch is simplistic,” Grandma went on. “But I have seen many quilts made with only the nine-patch that are stunning because of the placement of light and dark fabrics. The same is true of the Log Cabin block.”

  Maggie’s brow creased, but she tried hard not to protest. However, she knew a nine-patch would not impress Mrs. Stoddard.