The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club
Page 12
“Wow! Sounds like you’ve gotten yourself hooked up with quite an unusual bunch of people.”
“Yeah. That little quilting club is pretty unique.” Stuart lifted his coffee mug and took a drink. “And from what I could tell, almost everyone there has some sort of problem.”
“Problem with quilting you mean?”
“Nope. A problem with some issue in their life.”
“Show me someone who doesn’t have problems, and I’ll show you someone who’s no longer livin’ on this earth,” Blaine said with a snicker.
“Yeah, you’re right, but some problems are more serious than others.” Stuart groaned. “I’m just afraid if Pam and I don’t get our problems solved soon, we might be headed for a separation—or worse yet, a divorce.”
Shipshewana
“You can just drop me off here,” Jan told Terry as they approached his driveway late Friday afternoon. “Need to check my mail, and since I know you have a heavy date this evening, you can just be on your way.”
“It’s not a heavy date. Dottie and I are going bowling and out for pizza.” Terry thumped Jan’s shoulder. “Want us to fix you up with Dottie’s friend Gwen? I think you’d really like her.”
“Not tonight, man,” Jan said. “I’ve gotta work on my wall hanging.”
Terry looked at Jan with disbelief. “I can’t believe you’d pass up a night of bowling and pizza with a fine-looking chick to stay home and keep company with a needle and thread.”
Jan shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? Think I’ve found my creative self, like my probation officer said I should do. And you know what—it’s actually kinda relaxin’ and fun.”
Terry snorted. “I can think of lots of other creative things to do besides prickin’ my finger with the sharp end of a needle.”
Jan chuckled. He didn’t figure Terry would understand. “I’ll see you on Monday mornin’. Have a good weekend, bud.”
“Yep. You, too.”
As Terry’s truck pulled away, Jan headed for his mailbox by the side of the road. He’d just taken out a stack of mail when Brutus bounded up, wagging his tail.
Jan frowned. “You’re out again? How in the world are you doin’ it, Brutus?”
Woof! Woof! Brutus’s fast-moving tail brushed Jan’s pant leg.
“Well, come on. Let’s see where you dug out,” Jan said as he tromped up the driveway with the dog at his side, tongue hanging out. He could have sworn Brutus was smiling, but then, somehow the dog always looked like he was grinning about something. He was one of those dogs that panted no matter what the weather was like. Even on the coldest days of winter, his tongue would often be hanging out the side of his mouth.
When Jan reached the dog pen, he discovered a hole where Brutus had obviously dug his way out. He shook his finger at Brutus. “Bad dog!”
Brutus lowered his head and slunk through the grass until he reached the house; then he leaped onto the porch with a grunt and a thump. When Jan caught up to him a few seconds later, he discovered a canvas gardening glove lying on the porch near the door.
“Now where’d this come from?” he muttered. “Brutus, did you steal this glove from one of our neighbors?”
The dog’s only reply was another deep grunt as he flopped down and rolled onto his back.
“This has gotta stop,” Jan said with a disgruntled groan. “Before I do anything else, I’m gonna dig-proof your dog pen.”
Goshen
“Where are you going, Beatrice?” Mom asked when Star entered the kitchen wearing her favorite pair of jeans and black hooded sweatshirt.
“I’m goin’ to the music store to get some new strings for my guitar; then I’ll grab a bite to eat someplace and head over to the coffee shop.” Star frowned. “And would you please stop callin’ me Beatrice?”
Mom emitted a disgusted sound as she lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Can’t you find something else to do on a Friday evening besides hang out with a bunch of wannabe musicians?”
“I wish you’d get off my case. It’s what I enjoy, it’s the way I am, and it’s better than hangin’ out here all evening watching you act all sappy when Mike shows up.” Star paused and cleared her throat. “I sure wish you’d dump that creep.”
“Mike is not a creep.” Mom’s nose crinkled as she scrutinized Star. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”
Star groaned. “I don’t see how you can be happy with a guy like Mike.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“For one thing, whenever he comes over here, he just makes himself right at home. Either heads to the kitchen and helps himself to whatever he wants or expects you to wait on him hand and foot. It irritates me when he starts hollering, ‘Hey, Nancy, would you get me a beer?’” Star lowered the pitch of her voice to imitate Mike. “‘Oh, Nancy, my shoulders are all knotted up. Could you rub ‘em for me, huh?’”
Mom opened her mouth as if to defend her man, but Star cut her off.
“Oh, and don’t forget how Mr. Wonderful flops on the couch to watch TV. The guy acts like he owns the place.” Star frowned deeply. “And he’s always tellin’ me what to do, like I’m a little kid and he’s my dad.”
Mom shook her head. “Oh, come on, Beatrice; it’s not that bad.”
“Yeah it is.”
“Mike asked me to marry him.”
“What?” Star gasped, as her mouth dropped open. “I hope you told him no.”
Mom sank into a chair at the table. “I didn’t say no, but I didn’t say yes either. Just said I’d give it some thought and let him know in a few weeks.”
Star took a seat, too, and clutched her mother’s arm. “If you marry Mike, I’ll have to move out, because I won’t stay in the same house with another crummy stepfather!”
“I’ll admit Wes wasn’t a good husband or stepfather, but Mike’s different. He’s kind, easygoing, and the restaurant he manages here in Goshen pays him real well.”
“Yeah, I know all that, but I still don’t like the guy, and I hope you’ll think this through and say no.”
“Whether I marry Mike or not is my decision, Beatrice, not yours.”
Star clenched her fingers until her nails bit into her skin. “Why do I have to keep reminding you, Mom? I go by Star now, not Beatrice. You know how much I hate that name.”
“I realize that, but your father insisted on naming you Beatrice after his mother.”
“Well, it’s a dumb name, and he was a jerk if he liked it.” Star leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “Tell me about my dad.”
“A few weeks after you were born, he decided that he didn’t want to be a father, so he took off down the road and never came back.” Mom blinked her eyes rapidly. “I’ve told you all this before.”
“Yeah, but you’ve never told me much about him. I want to know everything—what he looked like, what he did for a living, where you two met, that kind of stuff.”
Mom pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “That’s all in the past, and I’d just as soon forget it. Right now I’m going to my room to change out of my waitress uniform, because Mike will be coming here for supper soon.”
“Figured as much, and it’s all the more reason for me to be gone.” Star leaped out of her chair, picked up her guitar, which she’d set in the corner, and headed out the door. Mom might think Mike’s a great catch, but I’m sure he’s just like all the other men in her life—nothing but a loser!
Mishawaka
“Where are the kids?” Stuart asked when he entered the living room where Pam sat in front of her sewing machine near the window. “On a nice day like this, I figured they’d be outside playing.”
“Devin’s over at his friend Ricky’s, and Sherry’s upstairs, sick in bed.”
Stuart’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s wrong with her? She wasn’t sick when I left for work this morning.”
“I got a call from her school shortly after noon saying she was running a fever and had vomited during recess, so I went right over and picked her up.�
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“How’s she doing now?” he asked.
“About the same. I’ve been checking her temperature regularly, but it hasn’t gone down yet.”
“That’s not good. How come you didn’t call me at work?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. Besides, there was nothing you could do.”
“Did you at least call our pediatrician?”
Pam could hear the irritation in Stuart’s voice. Well, she was irritated, too. Didn’t he think she was capable enough to take care of their daughter or smart enough to know when to call the doctor? How was she supposed to have any confidence in herself when all he did was put her down or question her intelligence?
“Of course I called Dr. Norton,” she snapped. “I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Never said you were. Just wanted to be sure our little girl gets well.”
Pam folded her arms stiffly, feeling more defensive. “I want that, too, Stuart. Despite what you may think, I am a good mother.”
Stuart’s eyes flashed angrily. “Give me a break, Pam. I never said you weren’t a good mother. Just like always, you’re putting words in my mouth.”
She blew out her breath in a lingering sigh. “This conversation is getting us nowhere.”
“It would be if you’d tell me what Dr. Norton had to say. Or were you even able to get past the receptionist so you could speak with the doctor directly?”
“I wasn’t able to talk to her at first, but she did return my call.”
“And?”
“She said Sherry’s symptoms sound like the flu that’s been going around and asked me to let her know if the fever spikes or if Sherry’s stomach doesn’t settle down soon. If it’s the twenty-four-hour flu bug, then I’m sure she’ll feel better by tomorrow.”
“I hope so.” Stuart shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Uh, I hope you don’t expect me to watch the kids tomorrow if Sherry’s still sick.”
“Well, you did say you’d stay with them while I go to the quilting class.”
“Yeah, I know, but that was before Sherry got sick. You know I don’t do well with the kids when they’re sick. For that matter, they don’t do so good with me, either. It’s you they want when they’re not feeling well.”
“Maybe you could take the quilt class in my place,” Pam suggested.
His eyes widened. “Huh?”
“If one of us doesn’t go, we won’t know the next step in making the wall hanging, and I don’t want to get behind.”
“Then why don’t you just quit the class?” he asked.
She shook her head determinedly. “No way! I paid good money to take that class, and I really do want to learn how to quilt. Please, Stuart, say you’ll go in my place.”
“Huh-uh. I don’t think so.”
“It’s pretty ridiculous and selfish that you don’t want to go there alone, but yet you won’t stay with the kids either.” Pam’s chin trembled. “Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?”
“‘Course I do.”
“Then prove it.”
Stuart sat mulling things over then finally nodded. “I may be crazy, but all right, I’ll go. Maybe it won’t be so bad this week.”
Elkhart
“Sleep well, precious one,” Paul whispered as he placed Sophia in her crib and bent to give her forehead a kiss. “Pleasant dreams.”
Sophia looked up at him through half-closed eyelids and smiled.
Paul’s heart clenched. He had to admit he was a bit overprotective of his daughter, but she was all he had left of Lorinda. His baby girl had her mother’s dimpled smile, and oh, so many things about Sophia reminded him of Lorinda.
He tiptoed quietly from the room and made his way down the hall, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Today would have been Lorinda’s twenty-fifth birthday. If she were still alive, they’d have celebrated the occasion with some of their family. Paul would’ve bought a bouquet of yellow roses, Lorinda’s favorite flower. And Maria probably would have fixed enchiladas and baked a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting—also Lorinda’s favorite. They’d have laughed and played games, and if Lorinda’s folks had been able to come, they would have shared humorous stories from Lorinda’s childhood. But it wasn’t meant to be. Lorinda was spending her birthday in heaven instead of here with her family.
Paul ambled into the living room and sank onto the sofa. So many memories—so many regrets. If he’d just seen that truck coming, maybe he could have avoided the accident. Of course, as Paul’s priest had told him on more than one occasion, the trucker, who’d only sustained minor injuries, had admitted that he’d run the red light, so if anyone was to blame, it was him.
Then why does Carmen blame me? Paul wondered. Is she angry because I followed my family when they moved to Indiana? Does she think if we hadn’t left California, Lorinda would still be alive? Well, accidents happen there, too—probably even more than here because it’s so heavily populated.
Paul had tried talking to Carmen on the day of Lorinda’s funeral, but she’d barely said more than a few words in response, and those she had spoken were hurtful: “Lorinda would still be here now if it weren’t for you.” Paul leaned forward and let his head fall into his open palms. If Carmen hated him, that was one thing, but did she have to take it out on Sophia? By not keeping in contact, she was cutting herself off from her only niece. And that meant, short of a miracle, Sophia would never get to know her mother’s sister. Where was the fairness in that?
Of course, many things in life weren’t fair. Look at all the problems some of his second-grade students had gone through with their families this past year. Little Ronnie Anderson’s folks had ended their ten-year marriage in an ugly divorce; Anna Freeman had lost her grandma to cancer; and Miguel Garcia had been diagnosed with leukemia. Life was hard, and many things weren’t fair, but Paul knew he must keep the faith and trust God to help him through each day. Sophia needed him even more than he needed her. Together they would take one day at a time, and Paul would remember to be thankful for all of God’s blessings.
CHAPTER 17
Shipshewana
Emma was surprised when her students showed up for class on Saturday morning and Stuart was alone.
“Where’s your wife?” Ruby Lee asked as they all took seats around Emma’s sewing table.
“Our daughter came down with the flu, so Pam stayed home to take care of her,” Stuart said. “I’m here to learn what I can so Pam doesn’t fall behind.”
Emma wasn’t sure if Stuart’s distraught look was because he was worried about his daughter or irritated that he had to come to class. During the first two classes, it had been obvious that he’d felt coerced into coming, and he hadn’t shown much interest in learning to make a quilted wall hanging at all.
“It’s too bad about your daughter and also Pam missing the class,” Emma said.
Ruby Lee clucked her tongue noisily. “I missed many events when my boys were young and came down sick, but then that’s just a part of being a mother.”
“If Sophia got sick, I’d stay home with her,” Paul interjected, “even though I’d probably have to rely on my sister for help, because I’m sure I’d be a basket case if my little girl became ill.”
Star folded her arms and frowned. “Nobody ever cared when I got sick—except for one time when I was visiting Grandma and came down with a bad cold. She fussed over me like I was someone special. Even served me breakfast in bed. It felt nice to be taken care of that way and to feel like I meant somethin’ to somebody.”
Emma’s heart went out to Star. She’d obviously had a rough childhood, and with the exception of her grandmother, the poor girl probably hadn’t felt much love at all.
“Are you sayin’ your ma didn’t take care of you when you got sick?” Jan questioned.
Star lifted her shoulders in a brief shrug. “Mom took me to the doctor whenever I was really sick, but when she was at work and I had a cold or the flu, I pretty much had to fend for myself.”
“Yep.”
His forehead wrinkled deeply. “I would never leave my little girl alone! What was your mother thinking?”
Star tipped her head and looked at Paul as though he were a complete idiot. “She didn’t leave me alone when I was a baby. I went to day care back then. She didn’t start leaving me alone till I was in school and old enough to manage on my own while she was at work.”
How crazy is this? Star thought. Now I’m defending my mom? Guess there’s something to the saying that a person can talk bad about someone in their family, but no one else had better do it.
Emma came around behind the table and placed her hands on Star’s shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to be alone when you were sick. I’m sure you must have been lonely and scared.”
“Yeah, well, I appreciate your sympathy and all, but it won’t change the past. Now can we forget all this doom and gloom and get on with our lesson?”
Emma, taken aback by the young woman’s abruptness, quickly took a seat on the other side of the table. “Before we begin, I’d like to see how each of you did on your quilting projects this week.”
The students placed their unfinished wall hangings on the table, and Emma looked them over. She was disappointed to see that very little work had been done to Pam’s and nothing at all on Stuart’s.
As though sensing her disappointment, Stuart said, “Pam did a little more sewing on her project before Sherry got sick.”
“What about you, man?” Jan spoke up. “Doesn’t look like you’ve done a thing since last Saturday.”
Emma tensed, thinking Stuart might lash out at Jan, but she was surprised when he lowered his gaze to the table, removed his ball cap, and mumbled, “I didn’t do anything to it ‘cause I wasn’t planning to come back to the class again.”
Emma nodded slowly. “I had a feeling that might be the case.”
“It’s not that I have anything against you people,” Stuart was quick to say. “I just don’t feel comfortable about using a needle and thread. Besides, with the way Pam’s talked about our problems, I figured you all probably think I’m a terrible husband.”