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

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  “I think you and I have a lot in common,” Ruby Lee said, lightly tapping Cheryl’s arm. “But I guess we’d better get to the reason for your visit this evening.” She motioned to the adjoining room. “Gene’s in his study. Should we go in there to talk, or would you prefer that he come out here?”

  “We can go in there,” Cheryl said.

  Ruby Lee led the way, and when they entered Gene’s study, he turned off his computer and motioned for them to sit down.

  “It’s good to see you, Ms. Halverson. How are you doing?”

  “Please, call me Cheryl.” She cleared her throat a couple of times. “To tell you the truth, Pastor Gene, I’m not doing so well.”

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  Cheryl explained her situation with Lance and April and ended by saying that she was still angry and hadn’t forgiven them. “I know as a Christian I shouldn’t feel this way, but with Lance calling me to ask questions about April, I’m having a hard time dealing with things. I feel like telling him to go jump in a lake. And if I never saw Lance or April again, it would be fine with me. I often find myself wishing I could do something to get even—make them pay for what they did to me.”

  Gene reached for his Bible, and after thumbing through several pages, he read, “ ‘Be ye angry and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath.’ That’s Ephesians 4:26.” He flipped back to the Old Testament. “Proverbs 15:1 says: ‘A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.’ ” He closed the Bible and looked directly at Cheryl. “It’s our human nature to feel angry sometimes. People hurt us, injustices are done, and sin runs rampant in our world. But it’s important to remember not to let our anger consume us or cause us to do something we’ll later regret.” He paused and laced his fingers together, leaning slightly forward with his elbows on his desk. “Would getting even bring you happiness or change what happened between you and Lance?”

  Cheryl shook her head as she swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “No, but I can’t forgive their betrayal.”

  Ruby Lee, who had been sitting quietly beside Cheryl, patted Cheryl’s arm. “It’s important that we forgive those who have wronged us. Only then will your heart begin to heal.”

  “My wife’s right,” Pastor Gene put in. “In Matthew 6:14 we are told: ‘If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.’ ”

  Cheryl let Ruby Lee’s and the pastor’s words sink in. When she felt ready, she said, “You’re right, I do need to forgive Lance and April. I also need to ask God to forgive me for the anger and bitterness I’ve been harboring toward them. If I don’t, I know it will destroy my Christian testimony.”

  “Remember one thing,” Ruby Lee said, clasping Cheryl’s hand. “You don’t have to condone what Lance and April did to you, and you certainly don’t have to accept Lance’s phone calls. But for complete healing, you may need to let them both know, perhaps through a letter or an e-mail, that you’ve forgiven them.”

  “That won’t be easy,” Cheryl admitted, “but with God’s help, I think I can do it.”

  “There’s one more thing I’d like to say before we pray with you,” Ruby Lee said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t be afraid to begin dating again. Not all men will treat you the way Lance did. When you find the right one, you’ll know it. Just make sure he has the same moral values as you.”

  Cheryl smiled, glad that she’d come here tonight. “Thanks, Ruby Lee, I’ll remember that. And thank you, Pastor Gene, for the scripture you shared.”

  Elkhart

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had pizza,” Carmen said, smiling across the table at Paul and Sophia. “Thanks for inviting me to join you tonight.”

  Paul’s eyes twinkled as he tucked a napkin under his daughter’s chin. “Once Sophia had her first taste of pizza, coming here to the pizza place became a weekly occurrence. Of course, the fact that her daddy would rather not cook every night played a small role in it, too,” he added with a grin.

  Carmen laughed and reached for her glass of iced tea, watching Sophia in her high chair, wearing a flowered bib, as she picked the pepperoni off the pizza and ate it first. Her face was a mess, but she was obviously enjoying herself. It was great getting to know Paul, and spending time with his daughter made it that much sweeter. Carmen liked it here in northern Indiana, too. It was different from Los Angeles, with its endless traffic and people rushing about.

  “Are you still enjoying the quilt classes you’re taking?” Paul asked.

  Carmen nodded. “I’m anxious to see how my wall hanging turns out.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine. With Emma and Lamar’s guidance, I don’t think anybody ever leaves one of their classes with a wall hanging they don’t like. You’ll never meet two nicer people than those good folks, not to mention having the opportunity of making new friends during the course of the six weeks.”

  “I hope that’s the case for me.”

  “So besides the quilt class last Saturday, what else have you done this week?” Paul asked.

  “Oh, I drove around the area, took some pictures, checked out some of the Amish-run stores, and had lunch with Anna Lambright on Wednesday.” No way was Carmen going to admit her reason for doing those things.

  “Isn’t Anna the young Amish woman who’s also in Emma’s quilt class?” Paul questioned.

  Carmen nodded.

  “It’s nice that you’re getting to know some of the others in your class, but I’m surprised it would be the Amish woman and not Cheryl, because it seems like she would have more in common with you than Anna.”

  “Maybe so, but I’m fascinated with the Amish culture and have enjoyed spending time with Anna.” Carmen cringed. Could Paul be on to her? Had he somehow guessed that she planned to write an article about the Amish?

  Paul nodded. “You’re right; the Amish way of life is fascinating. I think we could learn a lot from the Plain People, and I’m impressed by the way they put God first and care so much for their families.”

  Carmen reached over and gave Sophia’s chubby little leg a gentle squeeze. “I think this little girl is pretty high on her daddy’s list.” She smiled at Paul. “You’re doing a good job raising her. I know Lorinda would be pleased.”

  Paul sighed. “I hope so. I tend to worry about Sophia, and sometimes I’m a bit overprotective. I often wonder if Lorinda is looking down from heaven and shaking her head when she sees some of the blunders I’ve made.” He chuckled. “Once when I was in a hurry, I tossed Sophia’s disposable diaper in the bathroom sink, thinking I’d remember to throw it away after her bath, but I forgot and left it there. The first one to find it was my niece, Lila, who was seven at the time. She and her family had dropped by to visit, and Lila asked to use the bathroom.” Paul wrinkled his nose. “Needless to say, my sister, Maria, razzed me about that one.”

  Carmen chuckled. “We all make silly mistakes.”

  “True enough, and I’ve made more than my share.” Paul tweaked the end of his daughter’s nose. “Isn’t that right my little niña?”

  Sophia giggled and grabbed Paul’s thumb.

  Carmen smiled. She’d never imagined spending time with Paul and Sophia could be so much fun. And to think, it wouldn’t have happened if her boss hadn’t sent her on an assignment.

  A chill went up Carmen’s spine. I can’t let Paul find out why I came. He’d never forgive me if he knew I planned to write a negative story about his Amish friends. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. How would I like it if someone were to write a not-so-nice article about my family and our way of life?

  CHAPTER 16

  Middlebury

  On Saturday morning, Anna was almost out the door, when she remembered that she planned to go shopping with Carmen after the quilting class. “Uh, Mom,” she said, poking her head through the kitchen doorway, “I wanted you to know that I’ll be a little late getting home this afternoon.”

&nb
sp; “Why is that?” Mom asked, looking up from where she sat at the table, drinking a cup of tea.

  “I want to do some shopping,” Ann replied.

  “How come?”

  Anna grimaced. Why can’t Mom just say, “Oh, all right, have a good time,” instead of making me explain everything all the time? Now I have to give some kind of explanation.

  “Mom, will you please fix my hair? A piece of it’s sticking out the back of my head covering,” Anna’s sister Arie said, stepping into the room and rushing over to Mom.

  Anna took advantage of the interruption and slipped quickly out the door, relieved that she didn’t have to offer her mother an explanation. She was anxious to see Carmen again, but they couldn’t go shopping in Shipshewana, where Anna could easily be seen by someone she knew.

  Shipshewana

  Terry’s hands shook as he climbed into his truck and turned on the ignition. He hadn’t had a cigarette since yesterday morning, and he struggled with the temptation. Besides being shaky and irritable, he’d had a hard time sleeping last night. What he wouldn’t give for a smoke to take the edge off. He’d made sure to use mouthwash and splash on some cologne this morning, hoping to erase any telltale signs of cigarette smoke from the day before. He’d even dressed a little nicer today, choosing some khaki slacks and a beige button-down shirt, instead of his usual jeans and T-shirt. If all went well, he planned to ask Cheryl if she’d go bowling with him tonight.

  “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I just took one drag,” Terry said aloud, as though trying to convince himself that it was okay. He opened the glove compartment and removed a pack of cigarettes, then fished around and found a book of matches under an assortment of maps and other things that had been jammed in there. At least his truck wasn’t as filthy as Jan’s. It just needed a little reorganizing. Terry’s rig was old, but he kept it halfway tidy on the inside, and tried to keep the outside clean, too.

  Striking the match, and then lighting the cigarette, he sat there awhile, letting the engine idle as he took a drag.

  Ahhh…that sure feels good. Terry inhaled the air of the cab as it filled with more smoke. Feeling kind of drowsy, he leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, hoping his urge for a cigarette would ease.

  Suddenly, Terry’s eyes snapped open. There was a different kind of smoke filling the inside of his truck now. “Oh no!” Terry hollered, turning off the engine and looking down at the seat. A thin pillar of smoke spiraled up from where the smooth vinyl once was. In its place was a hole the size of a quarter, darkened around the edges from the hot ashes still burning in the stuffing of the truck’s seat.

  Immediately, Terry unbuckled his seat belt, spotted a half-full water bottle that he’d left in the truck, and dumped the water onto the smoldering seat. It did the trick. “Guess that’s what I get for taking a drag,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand over the gaping hole. Looking at his cigarette pack, he was tempted to throw it out the window. But that would be littering, and with his luck, a cop would probably see him do it, and he’d end up with a fine. He’d toss the cigarettes as soon as he found a garbage can.

  “Can’t believe this happened,” he muttered. Now he’d either have to get the seat re-covered or have the whole thing replaced. Not only that, but he probably smelled like the dickens, too. He really did need to quit smoking.

  Terry got out of the truck and walked around for a bit, hoping the fresh air would get rid of the smoky aroma that might be lingering on his clothes.

  Getting back into his truck, and sniffing the arm of his shirt, Terry knew if he didn’t get going, he’d be late for class. The last thing he wanted was a tongue-lashing from Selma, like she’d given Blaine last week when he’d walked in late. “Well, here goes nothing,” Terry said, pulling out into traffic as he popped a piece of peppermint gum in his mouth.

  Selma peered into her canvas satchel, checking to make sure she had everything she’d need for the quilting class today. Scissors, seam ripper, tape measure, thread, pins, needles, and thimble. Yes, it was all there. Of course, Emma had each of those items available for her students to use, but Selma preferred her own things. She’d even thought about bringing her portable sewing machine along but knew that wasn’t possible since Emma had no electricity in her home. Besides, last week Selma had used Emma’s old treadle, and she’d enjoyed the sense of nostalgia from days when her grandmother was alive.

  Emma had told them that this week they’d continue to sew the pieces they’d cut out the previous week. Selma looked forward to seeing the wall hanging take shape and couldn’t wait for its completion. There was a sense of gratification that came from sewing, just as there was with floral arranging. Selma sometimes missed her position at the flower shop she used to manage, but continuing to work with flowers at home since her retirement three years ago had helped fill the void. Most of the bouquets she put together were for herself, but once a week when the flowers in her yard were blooming, Selma made lovely arrangements for the church she attended. It made her feel good to add some beauty to the table in the entrance; although she wasn’t sure how much it was appreciated by others in the congregation. No one except for the pastor’s wife had ever said anything to Selma about the flowers she brought.

  Pulling her thoughts aside, Selma slipped into her sweater, picked up her satchel, and opened the back door.

  Meow! The scraggly gray cat had returned once more, and he darted into the house before Selma could stop him. “Come back here, Scruffy!” she shouted, chasing after the cat as it raced into her kitchen.

  The determined feline zipped around the table a couple of times, made a beeline for the hallway, and dashed into Selma’s bedroom.

  She moaned. If she didn’t catch the critter soon, she’d be late. Aggravation tugging at her, Selma set her satchel on the table and headed down the hall. When she entered her bedroom, she gasped. The mangy animal was lying in the middle of her bed, curled up as if he thought he belonged there!

  Selma’s first instinct was to holler at the cat. But if she did that, he might run, and she’d be on another merry chase. Instead, she tiptoed quietly to the bed, slowly reached out, and scooped the furry cat into her arms. Selma wrinkled her nose, watching as clumps of cat hair floated through the air and onto her clean bedspread.

  Prrr…Prrr…Prrr… The cat went limp the moment he was picked up, and nuzzled Selma’s neck with his warm nose.

  It softened Selma just a bit, but she wouldn’t give in. This persistent critter had to go out!

  “Why do you keep coming back here when you know you’re not welcome?” Selma mumbled after she’d taken the cat outside and placed him on the grass. “Now go back to wherever you belong and stop coming to my house.”

  The cat looked up at Selma, as if to say, “You know I’ll be back.” Then it trotted down the driveway with its fluffy tail held high.

  I can’t figure out why Scruffy doesn’t get the hint, Selma mused as she made her way back to the house to get her sewing satchel and use a lint roller on her clothes. She made a mental note to run the vacuum cleaner when she returned.

  Does the cat think if he keeps coming around I’ll eventually take him in? She shook her head determinedly. That’s never going to happen.

  “Everyone and their horse was at the bakery this morning, and look what I came home with,” Lamar announced when he entered the quilting room, where Emma was busy getting things ready for her third class.

  She looked up and smiled when she saw the box of doughnuts he held. “What’d they have on sale today?”

  Lamar’s green eyes twinkled as he grinned at her. “Maple bars and chocolate doughnuts, with vanilla-cream filling.”

  Emma smiled. “Two of your favorites.”

  “That’s true,” he admitted, “but they’re not all for me. I plan on sharing.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I might like at least one of those tasty-looking maple bars.”

  “You can have as many as you like, Emma. What I meant to say was, t
hey’re not all for us. Thought I’d share them with the quilting class when it’s time to take a break today.”

  “That was thoughtful of you,” Emma said. “Especially since all I have to serve are some of the sugar kichlin I made two days ago. I’ve been busy repairing the quilt for Cheryl’s grandmother and haven’t had time to do any more baking.”

  Lamar smacked his lips. “We can have some of those sugar cookies, too.”

  Emma motioned to the kitchen. “Why don’t you put the doughnuts away until it’s time to share them with our students?”

  “That was my thought exactly, because if I leave them setting out, we’ll be tempted to start eating right away, and no one will get much sewing done.” Lamar started out of the room, but turned back around. “Isn’t it amazing how we often think alike, Emma?”

  She nodded. “I’m thankful for that.” Emma knew that not all married couples were as compatible as she and Lamar. She felt grateful that God had brought such a kind, loving man into her life. Even though she hadn’t planned to remarry after her first husband, Ivan, died, she’d never regretted her decision to marry Lamar.

  When Cheryl pulled into the Millers’ yard and saw no other cars in the driveway, she figured she must be the first one to arrive. That was unusual, but it was fine with her. She hoped this would give her some time to visit with Emma alone. From the first moment Cheryl had met Emma, she felt comfortable with her. Emma was so kind and easy to talk to. Cheryl felt relaxed around her—almost like she’d known Emma all her life. Maybe that was because, like Cheryl’s grandma, Emma was easygoing and didn’t just talk about herself. She seemed interested in others.

  Not like Mom, Cheryl thought. Everything always revolves around her job and social activities. Mom could learn a lot if she spent time among the Amish. Maybe she wouldn’t be so focused on worldly things.