by Judith Pella
“Don’t worry,” Grandma assured, almost as if she had read Maggie’s thoughts. “We will only do one nine-patch. That will be the first block in the sampler we will make. Each block will teach you a new skill and will be progressively more difficult.”
“Can I pick the fabrics? I mean, the colors that I like?”
“Of course. What would you pick?”
“Red, mostly, but also green—but I don’t want it to look like Christmas. Maybe blue—but not so it looks like a Fourth of July bunting.”
“You could have different colors in each block but with some red in all to unify it. Let’s take a look in the scrap box to see what we have.”
They brought over both Mama’s and Grandma’s scrap boxes. There weren’t many scraps of red in them, much to Maggie’s disappointment, but she was able to pull out several other colors that were plentiful enough and that she would like to use in the nine-patch. Much to her surprise many of these were browns and golds. She hadn’t thought of using these with red but found she liked the combination very much. As she and Grandma were spreading the pieces of fabric on the table and checking them against the template to make sure they would fit, Mama went to her sewing cupboard. Maggie’s jaw nearly dropped when she brought over a length of red calico material.
“I bought this a while ago,” Mama said. “I thought I might use it but just haven’t gotten around to it. If you like it . . .”
“Like it? It’s perfect!” Maggie exclaimed, almost, but not quite, speechless about her mother’s offering. It was a Turkey red cloth with tiny gold and brown flowers on it. “This accents the colors I’ve chosen perfectly.”
“That is exactly the best way to choose colors for a quilt,” Grandma said. “Use one fabric you love and draw your color palette from it.”
“Palette? Like an artist uses?” Maggie asked.
“Exactly. I have seen many quilts that are truly pieces of art.”
“Zack has said just that,” interjected Ellie, “when he saw some quilts. He compared them to works by famous artists like Leonardo da Vinci.”
For a fleeting moment Maggie thought of creating a masterpiece like one she remembered Grandma had done of appliquéd vines and leaves and flowers surrounding a medallion of a large basket of flowers. Or like either of the wedding quilts Mama had made for her and Ellie. But she forced herself back to reality. If she could just finish a quilt and have it halfway presentable, it would be a great accomplishment for her. That would have to be enough to impress Emma Jean Stoddard.
“Mama,” Maggie said, remembering herself, “thank you so much for the fabric. I hope I don’t mangle it up too much.”
“You will make a beautiful quilt, Maggie. I know it.”
Mama looked a lot more confident than Maggie felt.
SIX
Maggie tried to hurry through her sewing lesson the next morning so she could finish her chores before Evan arrived. But her grandmother scolded her and questioned her dedication, especially after she’d had to rip out her nine-patch three times.
“I know you can do better, Maggie,” Grandma said, her patience stretched nearly to its limit. “I thought you wanted to do better. I’ll let this work pass if you are satisfied with it.”
But Maggie knew this was mock leniency and that her grandmother expected her to reject the work. She looked at the puckered, crooked stitches and sighed. Her chances with Colby were slimmer than ever, so her stitching might be all that stood between her and happiness. With resignation she picked out the stitches.
“Follow the line we drew on the square,” Grandma reminded Maggie.
“You have been in a hurry all morning,” Mama put in. “Are you going someplace?”
Maggie had purposely not said anything about Evan’s visit because she wasn’t certain how her mother would respond. Mama had never had a problem with Mabel Parker or even with Mr. Parker, but then, Maggie and Ellie had never been close to Mabel, and Dad was not a close friend of Nathan Parker. Therefore, little socializing had taken place between the families. But more than that, Maggie didn’t want to answer any questions Evan’s visit might raise. Nevertheless, she probably should say something before her silence was perceived as suspicious.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Maggie said as casually as she could. “Evan Parker is stopping by later. I wanted to talk to him about Tommy’s legal case.”
Mama set down the dish she was drying and picked up another. “Why would you want to do that?” There was a slight edge to her tone.
“Well, I think it could be handled better. Do you know his lawyer from Portland hasn’t even come to see him yet?” As Maggie spoke, she realized this visit with Evan was a good idea for more than one reason. Maybe he really could help Tommy.
“Do you think that is your place?” Mama asked, but it wasn’t really a question. “Isn’t it Mrs. Donnelly’s concern?”
“I thought it would be best to talk to Evan first. If he can’t help, then it won’t raise Mrs. Donnelly’s hopes.”
“Well, I guess if you have already invited Evan, it can’t be helped. But just remember, Maggie, Tommy may be your friend, but it would not be appropriate for you to get too involved in these matters.”
“Ouch!” Maggie had been trying to talk while she sewed and now stabbed her finger with the needle. “This is hopeless!” she grumbled, tossing the nine-patch onto the table.
Grandma picked it up, turned it over, and examined it. “This is actually very nice, Maggie,” she said of the new stitches. “Don’t give up so easily.”
Appreciating the encouragement, Maggie took the item back in hand and looked at the seam she’d just sewed. It did look rather good with straight, even stitches. She only had seven more patches to go to finish the block! At this rate she and Evan could say good-bye to happiness with the mate of their dreams. They would probably be stuck with each other. But she was making progress, so maybe there was some hope yet.
Maggie laid the next patch against the ones she had just finished to make a row. She knotted her thread and, with intently pursed lips, began sewing again. In the background Mama was putting away the breakfast dishes and humming a little tune. Grandma was working on her own sewing, a six-inch patch consisting of a curved piece in blue, topped by a muslin piece. It was a pattern she called Drunkard’s Path. Maggie could hear a dog barking outside. She thought Gypsy had gone with Dad to the potato field. Normally, she would rather be outside playing with the dog or following some other more active pursuit. Today was Ellie’s turn to help Dad. They were giving Maggie some leeway for her sewing lesson, which only proved where Mama’s priority was and how much influence she wielded in the family. Maggie would have to help Dad later, though.
It surprised Maggie to find she was rather content at the moment sitting in the kitchen, listening to the common household sounds, and sewing her patchwork.
“Maggie,” Grandma said, “did I ever tell you the story of how your grandfather and I got together?” When Maggie nodded, a little bemused because of course she had heard this story, Grandma added, “I mean the whole story?”
“Well, you and Grandpa grew up together. You and his family were close friends, and the two of you did everything together,” Maggie replied.
“Yes, that is part of it, but there is more that I haven’t shared because I thought it would be more suitable to do so when you were older.”
“Grandma, don’t tell me it’s risqué!”
Grandma laughed. “Hardly that. Do you want to hear about it?”
“Of course,” Maggie said eagerly. In her youth she had always thought family stories were so boring, but she was grown up now and before long would have children of her own to whom she would want to pass on these stories.
“Well,” Mama put in, “I have heard this, so if you don’t mind, I have to sweep the porch and water some plants.”
When Mama was gone, Grandma continued, “You are right that your grandfather and I were playmates, almost like a brother and sister. I certain
ly never imagined having romantic feelings toward him. In fact, when I was about sixteen I set my cap for another, a boy named Raymond. But I did so for all the wrong reasons. You see, his mother had made a beautiful quilt that was laid-on work in a pattern of flower wreaths. To this day I have not seen the like, it was so fabulous. She said it would go to her son’s bride. I wanted to be that bride so I could get that quilt.”
“Grandma, how shocking!” Maggie said, half teasing but also truly a little shocked that her grandmother could ever have been so frivolous.
“Most girls in my day did not marry for love, Maggie. Many marriages were arranged by their parents for economic reasons. It wasn’t as shocking as it might seem to you for me to seek a man for whom I felt nothing.”
“For a quilt?” Maggie thought of all the hullabaloo this last summer with the girls thinking a quilt could win the minister. Maybe Grandma’s story wasn’t so farfetched.
“You should have seen that quilt.” Grandma smiled and seemed to be looking at it in her mind’s eye. “And Raymond was not opposed to my advances. I could have won him, if I do say so myself.”
“What happened, then?”
“One day your grandfather and I were out in the field picking berries. I happened to glance at him. He was popping a nice juicy berry into his mouth, which was already stained purple because he was eating far more than he was putting into his bucket. My heart started racing. Grandpa always said later it might just have been an attack of the vapors, but I know differently. I saw him as if for the first time and was smitten with what I saw, stained lips and all. I thought the feeling would go away. I hoped it would because I still wanted that quilt, but even I knew I couldn’t marry one man when I was falling in love with another.”
“What made you suddenly fall in love with Grandpa?”
“I had begun to think that if I married Raymond, I would not be able to continue being friends with your grandfather. A married woman could not associate with another man in that way, and I knew my heart would break if I had to give up Joey.”
Maggie had never heard her grandfather Joseph called Joey. It made her really able to think of her grandparents as youngsters.
“I knew,” Grandma added, “that was the kind of love that was worth a hundred quilts.”
“That’s a nice story, Grandma,” Maggie said. She thought a moment and added, “What is the moral to the story?” She knew Grandma’s stories almost always had deeper meanings.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that life doesn’t always turn out as you think it will.”
Maggie glanced out the kitchen window and saw Mama busily sweeping the porch. “Can I tell you something, Grandma? Please don’t say anything to Mama or she might get all in a dither. She has been a little touchy about some things since all the business with the fake minister.”
“You mean matters of romance?”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. She seems okay with Zack and Ellie— we all love Zack. But . . . I don’t know. Mama doesn’t talk a lot about it, which is odd for her.”
“Yes, that is odd. So you are afraid of sharing your romantic notions with her?”
“I don’t want to upset her. That’s all.”
“If I thought you were doing yourself harm, I would certainly have to tell your mother,” Grandma said, reasonably enough.
Maggie thought her grandma’s and mother’s ideas of what was harmful might be different from her own. Still, Maggie knew these quilting lessons were, or could be, for a far greater purpose than simply learning to quilt. Grandma had a bounty of wisdom that even Maggie should not take lightly.
“This isn’t anything harmful,” Maggie replied confidently. “It is just that I want to win a fellow, and I know I first have to win over his mother because she pretty much rules the roost at his house. He’s a very manly man, don’t get me wrong, but she would probably be able to rule even the president of the United States.”
“Must be Emma Jean Stoddard’s boy.” When Maggie’s jaw dropped, Grandma added with a chuckle, “Well, she does fit your description. And even I have noticed over the years how moon-eyed you are around Colby.”
With a disgusted snort, Maggie said, “Everyone seems to know how I feel but Colby himself.”
“Oh, men are so blind in such matters.”
“Is it bad to try to win the mother in order to get the son?”
“I see no reason why. Sooner or later a girl is going to have to win over her future mother-in-law or live to regret it.”
“Like Mama?”
“Your mother never had a chance with Agnes Newcomb. That woman was not going to like any woman who married her sons. It is the same with your Uncle Martin’s wife.” Martin was Maggie’s dad’s brother.
“You get along with Aunt Silvia’s husband.” Silvia was Mama’s older sister who lived in Rainier.
“It is different with daughters. I had a bit of a problem with Uncle Homer’s wife. But we eventually worked it all out and now get along fine. I think mothers have a harder time letting go of their sons because they resemble their husbands. That is all I can think anyway.” Pausing thoughtfully, Grandma went on, “Your mother does love Kendra, your brother’s intended. No doubt she has learned from the strife with her own mother-in-law.”
Maybe Grandma saw that Maggie was starting to lose interest now that the conversation had veered from her own problem, because she added after a moment, “So Maggie, I think you are fine trying to impress Mrs. Stoddard. Just keep in mind that it may not be possible.”
“Should I give up even trying? Maybe Colby would defy his mother’s wishes—”
“I couldn’t support that idea entirely,” Grandma replied. “Maybe Mrs. Stoddard loves her son enough to bend her will to allow for his happiness. When a mother sees that her son loves a woman strongly enough, she is hard pressed to stand in the way of their bliss.”
“Doesn’t mean she won’t bring in some stiff competition.” Maggie got a sour look on her face as she thought of Tamara Brennan.
“At that point, even before, for that matter, the best thing is to leave it in God’s hands. Though it wouldn’t hurt to continue to do your best to help your own cause.” Grandma’s gaze fell on the sewing in Maggie’s hands. “Look at that. While we have been talking, you have been sewing along very nicely. Your stitches are much improved!”
“Maybe there’s hope for me after all!” Maggie exclaimed.
“I have no doubt of it,” Grandma said. “And, Maggie, I don’t think your mother would be upset if you shared with her all you have with me.”
“Maybe so,” Maggie replied noncommittally.
Maggie was enjoying her lesson and especially her conversation with Grandmother. Unfortunately, she couldn’t spend all day sewing, not that she would have had the patience for it anyway. There were other chores to be done if she wanted to be ready for Evan’s visit after the midday meal.
Ada watched Maggie stride out to the chicken coop. She moved with such surefooted steps. Funny how a few months ago Ada was so worried her younger daughter would never settle down to serious thoughts of marriage. Maggie had been such a tomboy of a girl that it had seemed, despite her prettiness, she would never attract the romantic interests of the young men in the community.
On the other hand, Ada had been quite sure about Ellie’s prospects. All the fellows had wooed Ellie, Colby Stoddard most earnestly. Ellie was a refined young lady, especially for this backwater town. She was mature and levelheaded beyond her years. There had never been a doubt that she would make a good match.
How things had suddenly flip-flopped! Ada found she wasn’t all that worried about Maggie any longer. It seemed the pieces had fallen into place for her. She was finally embracing the necessity of homemaking, and if she still enjoyed fishing and hunting and climbing trees, Ada saw no problem. She was a country girl after all.
Now it was Ellie whom Ada fretted over. Ada loved Zack as a person and even as a son. In just a few weeks since his profession of faith, he was p
roving to be serious and sincere about his growth as a Christian. He earnestly read his Bible and frequently asked questions. He was working hard to be honest and responsible in his choices and in seeking to right past wrongs. Why, just the other day he had asked Ada her advice about seeking out his own mother. Zack had left home when he was twelve years old and never attempted to keep in touch. His mother must have worried terribly about her son, never knowing if he was alive or dead. No wonder Zack wasn’t sure she would care to see him after he had neglected her for so many years. Ada had assured him that, as a mother herself, she was confident his mother would be deeply thrilled to hear from him.
Yet she still could not shake her discontent over her daughter’s choice of a mate. Would it be terrible not to be heartbroken if the marriage plans fell through? She felt like a most evil woman for such thoughts. If only Zack had better prospects and wasn’t so much in debt. She wished they would wait at least until summer before marriage and had hinted at this to Ellie, but thus far her daughter seemed determined to forge ahead with the December wedding. That was less than four months away.
Ada didn’t want to be like some members of the community who were taking it slowly in accepting Zack back into their good graces. That was their right, for he had duped all of them. Yet Ada truly believed Zack’s heart was pure in its intent toward God. She felt he deserved her full forgiveness.
Ada propped the broom against the back door and went inside. Wednesday was bread-making day, and her mother had begun the task, a job Ada was happy to let her take over, since she made the best bread. Ada brought over the large basket of mending and sat at the table. The large window above the sink provided nice light for the task. She picked up one of Calvin’s shirts that had a large hole in the elbow. My goodness, that man was hard on clothes! There was always a good deal of mending. They couldn’t afford to buy new shirts every time one was torn. That’s the way all country folk were. Frugality was simply inborn. Even Florence Parker, with all their money, did mending, though Ada had seen some of her rags and probably would not have discarded them into the rag box so soon.
