The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club - 02 - The Tattered Quilt

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  She gave a slow nod. “I prayed this morning before breakfast that things would go well with the class.”

  “I prayed the same thing.” Lamar placed his hands on Emma’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Even if things don’t go as we might like, I’m sure God will give us the right words to share with our quilting students.”

  Emma smiled and kissed his cheek. “One thing I’ve always appreciated about you is your positive attitude. When I’m filled with doubts, you make me feel hopeful.”

  “Just remember, our hope is in the Lord. Psalm 71:14 reminds us: ‘But I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more.’ ”

  “You’re right,” Emma said. “Danki for that reminder.”

  “That must be one of our students,” Lamar said when a knock sounded on the door. “Would you like me to get it?”

  Emma nodded. “Jah, please.”

  “One of your goats is out,” Selma said when Lamar answered her knock. She turned and pointed to the left side of the yard, where a frisky goat nibbled on the grass. “Unless you’re trying to replace your lawn mower, you ought to keep that critter in its pen.”

  Lamar frowned. “Oh great. I must have left the gate open when I fed Emma’s goats this morning. Go ahead into the house. Emma’s in her sewing room.” He hurried past Selma and into the yard, hollering and waving his hands at the goat.

  “Sure don’t know why anyone would want a bunch of goats. All they do is strip your yard clean, grass and all,” Selma muttered as she stepped into the house. “Dogs, cats, goats—they’re nothing but a nuisance.”

  When Selma entered the quilting room, she found Emma sitting at the table with her head bowed. Was she praying or sleeping? Selma waited several seconds, then cleared her throat real loud.

  Emma lifted her head and smiled. “Oh, good morning, Selma. I was just getting my thoughts together before teaching the class. How are you today?”

  Selma shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” She motioned toward the window. “Your husband’s outside chasing after one of your goats.”

  Emma rose from her seat and hurried to the window. “Oh dear, I’ll bet it’s Maggie again. I hope that critter isn’t causing any trouble. She can be an escape artist when she wants to be.”

  “Lamar said he thought he’d left the gate open when he fed the goats this morning,” Selma said, taking a seat at the table.

  Emma sighed. “I hope he doesn’t have any trouble catching Maggie. She can be a frisky one at times. Do you have any pets, Selma?”

  Selma shook her head. “And I don’t plan on having any, either.”

  “Are you allergic to most animals?”

  “No, not really. I just can’t be bothered with the messes they make.”

  “Oh, but think of the company a cat or dog offers.”

  Selma brushed the idea aside. “Puh! A barking dog or a yowling cat isn’t the kind of company I need. I’d rather be alone than have some animal leaving hair all over my house and making little messes. I just happened to shoo a scraggly-looking cat off my porch this week. You know, once you feed them, they never leave.”

  Emma opened her mouth, then closed it and looked back out the window.

  Selma glanced at the clock on the far wall. It was almost ten o’clock. Were the others going to be late? If so, she would let them know what she thought about that. Like a thorn in her side, tardiness had always been an irritation for her.

  Cheryl had just gotten out of her car when a truck pulled into Emma’s yard. Terry stepped out, puffing on a cigarette.

  “Oh great,” she mumbled under her breath. She was hoping he might not show up today.

  “Are you ready for another lesson?” Terry asked as he approached her.

  She took a step back, hoping to avoid the smoke from his cigarette, but it was no use. The smoke wafted up to her nose. She sneezed and coughed at the same time.

  “Have you got a cold?” Terry asked, with a look of concern.

  She shook her head, while hurrying along. “I’m allergic to cigarette smoke.”

  “Oops. Sorry about that.” Terry dropped the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. “So how’d your week go?” he asked, following as Cheryl hurried toward the house.

  Before Cheryl could respond, an energetic goat zipped right between them. Ba-a-a!

  “Come back here, Maggie,” Lamar panted, red-faced, as he ran after the critter. He looked exhausted, like he might fall over any minute.

  “I’ll get her!” Terry shouted, tearing across the yard after the goat.

  Cheryl stepped onto the porch and watched in amusement as Terry skirted back and forth across the grass in hot pursuit of the lively animal. Lamar stood by watching and catching his breath.

  Terry, on the heels of the goat, raced through the front yard, then the side of the house, and back again. It didn’t take long for Terry to grow winded as well. If he didn’t smoke he might not be so out of breath, Cheryl thought.

  As she continued to watch, Cheryl knew she would have given up on catching the goat long ago. But Terry was persistent, even when a coughing fit sent him into spasms. Back and forth he and Maggie went, like they were playing some unending game of tag. Finally, as the ornery animal got closer, it seemed that Terry was about to outwit her.

  Cheryl’s mouth dropped open when Terry took a flying leap, as if he were about to make an impressive tackle, and missed grabbing Maggie’s back legs by mere inches. Covering her eyes with her hands, Cheryl peeked through her fingers just in time to see Terry land facedown in a patch of mud.

  CHAPTER 11

  As Blaine’s SUV approached Lake Shipshewana, he fought the urge to stop. The lake was home to native bass and had been named after the chief of a small group of Potawatomi Indians who had used the location for their main camp. It was one of his favorite places to fish, and today the air was crisp yet calm—perfect for fly-fishing. Blaine had seen it many times—those still waters mirroring the azure sky.

  Growing up in Canada, where lakes and streams were plentiful, Blaine had developed his love of fishing. He had many fond memories of his parents loading up the family car with picnic foods and fishing poles and taking him and his brothers for a day of fishing. From the first time Blaine could remember going fishing, he was hooked. Fly fishing was his favorite, but any type of fishing provided solitude. Like a true sportsman with heightened senses, nothing went unnoticed.

  Blaine made his own lures and had pretty good success with them because they mimicked natural bait. There was nothing like having a pan of fresh-caught trout or bass frying up for dinner. But most times, Blaine just enjoyed catching and releasing, using barbless hooks, so as not to injure the fish. It was the thrill of feeling that tug on his line, reeling it in, and seeing his catch up close. Then, watching as the released fish gave a quick shimmer of its scales before the water swallowed it up in its depths.

  Pushing the control to roll down his window, Blaine drew in a deep breath of air. Soon he’d be at the entrance to the turnoff for the lake, and the idea of forgetting about going to Emma’s grew more appealing. Would missing one class hurt?

  “I’ll bet the fish are biting this morning,” he said aloud as he hit the button again to close the window. It wasn’t fair that he had to go to the stupid class. If he wasn’t worried that Stuart would find out, he’d skip it and go fly-fishing instead. But with his luck, Stuart would probably talk to Lamar or Emma this week, and the truth would come out. I should have known better than to make that stupid bet.

  Blaine thought about the fishing gear in the back of his SUV. He kept it there most of the time so he could fish whenever he got the chance or was in the mood. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I stopped and fished for half an hour or so, he told himself. I doubt that I’d miss out on much if I arrived at the Millers’ a little late.

  Bearing off the main road, Blaine turned his rig into the parking area and shut off the ignition. A few minutes sitting on the dock with his line in the water and he’d feel
like a new man.

  Terry clambered to his feet, embarrassed that he’d made a fool of himself in front of Cheryl. So much for trying to make a good impression. The worst of it was that he hadn’t even caught the stupid goat!

  “Are you all right?” Lamar and Cheryl called in unison, as they made their way over to Terry.

  “I’m fine. Not hurt. Just dirty and feeling a bit defeated.” Terry brushed at the mud on his jeans, wishing he hadn’t let his ego get the best of him. “Guess I must look like a real mess.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I appreciate your help. Why don’t you go in the house and get cleaned up?” Lamar suggested.

  “What about the goat?” Terry asked, unwilling to give up the chase. If he could capture the goat, it might impress Cheryl.

  “There’s no need for that; looks like Maggie’s found her way back into the pen on her own.” Lamar pointed to the goat pen, where Maggie scampered about with the other goats. “I just need to go close the gate.”

  When Lamar headed in that direction, Terry started for the house.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Cheryl asked, catching up with him when he reached the porch.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a good thing my buddy Jan wasn’t here to see me make a fool of myself. He’d probably never let me live it down.”

  “It was just an accident, and you were trying to help.” Cheryl offered Terry a sympathetic smile.

  He grinned while opening the door for her. Even though Cheryl rolled her eyes, trying to squeeze past him, and then tripped over his big feet, at least she’d seemed concerned about him. Maybe he was making some headway with the pretty blond after all.

  As Carmen neared Shipshewana, her thoughts went back to supper at Paul’s the night before. The meal was good, and she’d enjoyed getting to know Paul and Sophia better. This visit had been the best so far, being able to spend more time with her niece and not feeling like she had to rush off so quickly. The little girl had taken to Carmen right away and had spent most of the evening sitting on Carmen’s lap, while Carmen read from one of Sophia’s storybooks. When Paul said it was time for his daughter to go to bed, she’d cried and held her arms out to Carmen. Then Carmen had helped Sophia change into her pajamas, and afterward, she read the child a bedtime story.

  Carmen smiled, reflecting on how she and Paul had tucked Sophia into bed and then spent the rest of the evening drinking coffee, while Carmen shared stories about when she and Lorinda were girls. It was bittersweet, talking about her sister to Paul, and seeing the sad look on his face, but she thought in some way it had brought healing to both of them. Lorinda had been a special woman, and Carmen knew she would always miss her. She was sure that Paul would, too.

  Pushing her thoughts aside, Carmen followed a horse and buggy up the Millers’ driveway. It stopped near the barn, and Anna stepped down. Great. This is the perfect time for me to talk to her.

  Carmen parked her rental car and got out. Then she hurried over to Anna, who walked slowly toward the house, head down and shoulders slumped.

  “How was your week?” Carmen asked cheerfully.

  Anna shrugged and kept walking.

  “I noticed you didn’t ride your bike today.”

  Anna motioned to the horse and buggy, pulling out of the driveway. “My dad brought me instead.”

  Carmen couldn’t miss the look of discomfort on Anna’s face. She was almost sure the young woman was dealing with some sort of problem.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to go to lunch with me after class today,” Carmen said as they stepped onto Emma’s porch.

  Anna’s eyebrows arched. “You want to have lunch with me?”

  “That’s right. I’d like to get to know you better, and it’s hard to visit during the quilting class.” At least the kind of visiting I want to do.

  Anna studied Carmen before answering. “That sounds nice, but I can’t go to lunch today because Dad will be picking me up as soon as class is over.”

  “Maybe we can go some other time. Would you be available any time next week?”

  Anna looked hesitant, but she finally nodded. “I’d like that. Could you meet me for lunch on Wednesday at Das Dutchman in Middlebury?”

  Carmen knew exactly where that restaurant was because she’d had supper there a few nights ago. “Sure, that’d be fine. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me, too.” Anna sighed. “Guess we’d better get in there, or they’ll be starting the class without us. Not that I’d mind,” she quickly added.

  That’s the second time she’s said it, Carmen thought as they entered the house. Anna Lambright does not want to be here. I hope I can get her to open up to me when we have lunch next week.

  CHAPTER 12

  While Terry was in the bathroom cleaning up, Cheryl went to the quilting room to speak with Emma.

  “How’s my grandma’s quilt coming along?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma said, “but I’ve been busy this week and haven’t had much time to work on the quilt. I’m sure I’ll be able to get more sewing done on it next week, though,” she quickly added.

  Cheryl smiled. “I’ll be anxious to see the quilt when it’s done. And I can’t wait to see the expression on Grandma’s face when I give it to her.”

  “Tell me about your grandmother,” Emma said, as Cheryl took a seat at the table. “Does she live near you?”

  Cheryl shook her head. “Grandma lives in a nursing home in Portland, Oregon. It’s not too far from my folks’ house, but with Mom and Dad both working all day, they don’t go to visit Grandma that often.” Cheryl’s eyes filled with unwanted tears, and she blinked to keep them from falling onto her cheeks. “I—I don’t think Mom really cares that much.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. “About your grandmother?”

  Before Cheryl could respond, Terry entered the room and took a seat beside her. His face and hair were wet, and so were the knees of his jeans. Unfortunately, the scrubbing he’d done hadn’t removed the odor of smoke from his clothes, but at least the mud was cleaned off.

  “So what’d I miss?” Terry asked, leaning close to Cheryl.

  Cheryl leaned away. “Nothing. Emma and I were just talking about my grandmother’s quilt.” She hated to be rude, but the smell of smoke on Terry’s clothes made her feel sick.

  “Okay. Okay. I can take a hint.” Terry leaped out of his chair and found a seat on the other side of the table just as Carmen and Anna entered the room.

  Cheryl was relieved when Anna sat on one side of her, but she wished Carmen had taken the seat on the other side instead of sitting at the end, next to Anna. She hoped Terry remained where he was, but when Selma showed up and sat beside her, she wasn’t so sure about that. Last week Selma had criticized the way Cheryl held her scissors. Who knew what she might find fault with today?

  A few minutes later, Lamar entered the room. “Maggie’s back in her pen, and the gate’s closed. Hopefully she won’t figure out how to get it open,” he said to Emma.

  She smiled. “You know my Maggie. She’s one schmaert little goat.”

  “Schmaert? What does that mean?” Terry asked.

  “It’s Pennsylvania Dutch for the word smart,” Lamar replied.

  “Oh, I see. So what’s the opposite of schmaert?” Terry questioned.

  “Dumm,” Emma responded.

  “That’s interesting and all,” Selma spoke up, “but we didn’t come here to learn a new language. We came to make a quilted wall hanging.”

  “That’s right,” Emma agreed, “and we’ll get started with today’s lesson as soon as Blaine arrives.”

  Selma wrinkled her nose and grumbled, “Last week Anna came in late, and now Blaine’s not here. Can’t people be on time? It’s inconsiderate when they show up late and make the rest of us wait.”

  “Have you been out to the phone shack to check for messages this morning?” Emma asked Lamar, ignoring Selma’s comment. “Maybe there’s one from Blaine, letting us know he won’t b
e here or is running late for some reason.”

  “I haven’t checked yet,” Lamar said, “but I’ll run out there now. You can begin teaching the class while I’m gone. If Blaine is coming, he can catch up when he gets here.”

  Emma and her husband are sure patient, Cheryl thought. If I were teaching this class, I’d call Selma up short for being so rude.

  “I think we should wait to get started until Lamar returns and we know if there’s a message from Blaine,” Emma said facing the class.

  “What are we supposed to do until then?” Selma asked with a look of agitation. “Sit and twiddle our thumbs?”

  “Of course not,” Emma said, watching Selma take supplies out of her mint-green tote bag. “We can visit and get to know each other a little better.”

  “Puh!” Selma swiped the air with her hand as if she was after a pesky fly. “I didn’t come here to get to know anyone. I came to quilt!”

  Emma was taken aback by Selma’s rudeness. The poor woman was certainly not the friendly type. “As I said before, we’ll begin as soon as Lamar returns from the phone shack.” Emma looked over at Terry and smiled. “How was your week?”

  “It went fine till I fell in the mud chasing your goat.” He leaned his head back and chuckled. “Guess I got what I deserved, thinking I could run faster than that frisky critter.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one of my students who’s gotten bested by Maggie. During my first quilting class, Maggie got out, and Blaine’s friend Stuart thought he could catch her. He ended up on his face in the grass. Then your brother-in-law went out to help him,” Emma added, looking at Carmen.

  “I’m not surprised Paul would do something like that. From the things my sister used to tell me about Paul, he’s always been one who likes to help out.”

  “Yes,” Emma agreed. “Paul has many fine qualities, and he was good with Maggie. I never saw that goat react to anyone like she did Paul. She went to him when he held out a handful of grass and didn’t resist when he guided her back to her pen. Some people have a special way with animals.”