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

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  “Have you eaten here before?” Paul questioned as they approached the hostess to request a table for two.

  Carmen shook her head. “No, but I’ve heard about it. Judging by all the people I see, I’m guessing the food here must be good.”

  Paul placed his hand in the small of Carmen’s back as they followed the hostess to their table. Once they were seated and had placed their orders, he smiled at Carmen and said, “You look nice tonight. I like the pretty turquoise barrette in your hair.”

  Carmen smiled. “Thank you, Paul. It was a birthday present from my dad.”

  Paul cleared his throat a couple of times. “I’ve been wondering about something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you seeing anyone? I—I mean, do you have a steady boyfriend?”

  She shook her head. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, just curious. I figured a beautiful woman like you would have at least one guy who was serious about her.”

  “No, not really,” she said.

  Paul couldn’t explain it, but he felt relieved knowing Carmen wasn’t dating anyone.

  His thoughts were interrupted when their waitress returned with two plates of turkey, mashed potatoes, and green beans. I wonder how Carmen would respond if I asked her to stay in Indiana? Shaking the notion aside, Paul picked up his fork and started eating. No matter how much he wished it wasn’t so, Carmen’s job and her home were in California. He needed to keep his focus on something else and quit wishing for the impossible.

  CHAPTER 31

  Goshen

  For the beginning of a workweek, traffic was light. In Cheryl’s eyes this was always a good thing, aside from the fact that her job was only a fifteen-minute drive from where she lived. Following two days off, Monday mornings were hard enough, especially when it had been a good weekend, like the past one was.

  As Cheryl headed to work, all she could think about was how the weekend had gone, and how much she’d enjoyed being with Terry again. They’d stopped at a café on the way back from Winona Lake, but since Cheryl was still full from the lunch she’d had earlier, she’d sipped iced tea and visited with Terry while he ate a burger and fries. She’d enjoyed listening as he told her about some of his biking trips and was pleased when he asked her some questions about growing up near the Oregon coast. Not like Blaine, who hadn’t asked Cheryl anything about her past or personal life. In fact, her conversations with Blaine in no way compared to her time spent with Terry. The two men were as different as day and night.

  Cheryl was fairly sure Mom and Dad wouldn’t approve of Terry because he was such a free spirit, but that was what intrigued her the most. She knew, too, that Dad wouldn’t like Terry’s long hair. Cheryl couldn’t really explain it, but she felt more comfortable with Terry than any other man she’d dated. When she’d first met him, a few things about him irritated her, but the more time she spent with Terry, the more he seemed to be growing on her.

  On Sunday, Terry had come to church again. This time, he’d seemed more relaxed and had even taken part in the singing. Ruby Lee had led the music and chosen several lively choruses. Cheryl had snuck a peek at Terry during the praise-and-worship time and was happy to see him clapping along and grinning as they worshiped the Lord. After church, Cheryl and Terry had gone out for lunch and ended the day with another ride on his Harley. Only this time, Jan and his daughter, Star, joined them—for church, as well as lunch and the three-hour road trip. Cheryl had been exhausted when she went home that evening but had felt exhilarated at the same time. She’d never imagined riding on the back of a motorcycle could be so much fun.

  Having Star along had put Cheryl more at ease on the bike, but she didn’t think she’d ever want to ride a motorcycle by herself the way Star did—not even if it had a fancy custom paint job. Cheryl had to admit, the starbursts in bright neon colors fit Star’s personality, as well as her name.

  The only downside of the weekend had been the misunderstanding with Blaine. After she’d arrived home that evening, she’d received a phone call from Blaine, asking why she hadn’t waited for him and saying he’d seen her ride off with Terry. He’d sounded upset, but once Cheryl explained what had happened and said she thought he’d left town without her, Blaine seemed to understand.

  I probably shouldn’t compare Terry and Blaine, Cheryl told herself as she pulled into her parking space behind the attorney’s office. But Terry has a sense of humor, and he makes me laugh. In comparison, Blaine seems kind of boring.

  Mishawaka

  “How was your weekend?” Stuart asked when he met up with Blaine in the parking lot of the sporting goods store.

  Blaine frowned. “Let’s just say it wasn’t the best.”

  “What happened?”

  “I took Cheryl to lunch at that restaurant in Winona Lake on Saturday, like you suggested, and it didn’t turn out so well.”

  “Was it the service or the food?” Stuart questioned.

  “Neither. What ruined the day was when Cheryl left with Terry.”

  Stuart’s eyebrows shot up. “Terry Cooley?”

  “Yeah. They rode out of town on his motorcycle.”

  “I don’t get it. If Cheryl went to Winona Lake with you, how’d she end up with Terry?”

  “At first I thought they’d pre-planned the whole thing,” Blaine said as they started walking toward the store. “But then I called Cheryl Saturday night, and she said when she’d gone back to the parking lot to meet me and discovered that my rig was gone, she panicked and thought I’d left town without her.”

  Stuart rubbed his chin. “Why would she have to meet you? I thought you were together.”

  “We were during lunch, but afterwards Cheryl went shopping while I checked on some fishing spots in the area.”

  Stuart stopped walking and squinted his eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m not. I’ve never fished in that area and wanted to know what the lake has to offer.”

  Stuart thumped Blaine’s back. “If you want my opinion, you should have gone shopping with Cheryl and done fish scouting on your own time. Women like it when men go shopping with them. Pam sure does.”

  Blaine shook his head. “Sue never wanted me to go shopping with her.”

  “Sue…Sue…Sue. You’ve got to quit thinking about her, my friend. That relationship’s over, and you need to move on.”

  “I know that, but I’m not sure Cheryl’s the right woman for me,” Blaine said as they entered the building. “She seems to like Terry better anyhow, so I think I’m gonna back off.”

  Shipshewana

  Emma had just taken a seat at her sewing machine to begin working on the binding of the quilt for Cheryl’s grandmother when her daughter Mary entered the room.

  “I see you’re still busy with that old quilt,” Mary said, moving to stand beside Emma’s chair.

  Emma nodded. “I need to get it done before the final class so Cheryl can take it to Oregon for her grandma’s birthday.” She drew in a deep breath and blew it out quickly. “But I need to get busy cleaning the house so everything will be ready when Rachel arrives. At times like this, it seems there just aren’t enough hours in the day.”

  Mary placed her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Listen, Mom, I’ve been thinking about this ever since yesterday when you told me about Aunt Rachel coming. I want to reassure you that I’ll do all I can to help get the house ready in time. In fact, I don’t think you need to do anything. Just concentrate on teaching your last two classes and getting that quilt done on time, and leave the cleaning to me and the girls.”

  Emma stood and gave her daughter a hug. “Danki, Mary. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I know you have your hands full at your home, too.”

  Mary smiled. “You’re welcome, Mom. And don’t worry about me. Remember, helping each other when there’s a need is what family is for.”

  “You’re sure wearing a big grin today,” Jan said as he and Terry headed down the road in his truck toward th
e small town of Emma to bid on a roofing job. “Are you still flying high from your date with Cheryl yesterday?”

  Terry nodded, popping a piece of bubble gum in his mouth. “I can’t help it, man. There’s something special about Cheryl. I feel like a different person since I met her.”

  Jan looked over at Terry and grinned. “You act like a different person, too. Never seen you so happy and eager to please any woman before. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

  Terry shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just really like being with her, and she makes me feel…well…special—like she really cares about me.”

  Jan gave the steering wheel a rap. “The question is, do you care for her?”

  Terry clenched his fingers. “Just said I do, didn’t I?”

  “But do you care enough for Cheryl to set your fears about marriage aside?”

  “Who said anything about marriage?”

  “I did, and I said it ’cause if you really like Cheryl and you keep going out with her, eventually she’s gonna expect some sort of commitment.”

  Terry winced and tried to change the subject. “Hey, I wonder if Emma Miller has ever been to the town of Emma.” He slapped his knee, watching Jan roll his eyes. “All kidding aside, let’s stop at the little Emma Café for lunch today. I hear they have some really good pizza and home-cooked meals.”

  “Sounds good, but I’m not letting you off the hook that easy, pal,” Jan said. “Seriously now, friend-to-friend, think about what I said, and don’t make the same mistakes I have in the past.”

  Terry didn’t want to think about making a serious commitment right now. He was just getting to know Cheryl and really hadn’t thought much beyond that. Could he set his fears about marriage aside and continue to pursue a relationship with Cheryl that might lead to commitment, or would it better if he broke things off now before one or both of them got hurt?

  Selma had just finished the breakfast dishes when she heard the tinkling of a bell, followed by a distinctive meow!

  She dried her hands on a dish towel and hurried to open the back door. Scruffy sat on her porch, but her heart gave a lurch when she saw blood and realized that the poor cat was bleeding.

  “Oh my!” Selma gasped, scooping the cat up and taking him inside. “What happened to you, Scruffy?”

  Without so much as a second thought, Selma placed the cat on the kitchen counter so she could see how badly he was hurt. All sorts of things went through her mind. Did Scruffy get hit by a car? Had he been in a fight with another cat, or maybe a dog? Was it possible that some wild animal had attacked the cat?

  Meow! The cat looked up at her as if to say, “Please help me.”

  After a quick examination, Selma discovered several lacerations and knew Scruffy needed to see the vet. Stitches might be needed, so there was no time to waste. Dr. Benson would know what to do. While she was there, Selma would ask about preventive shots the cat might need, even though she had no idea if Scruffy had received any before.

  She hurried to the utility room, where she grabbed a cardboard box and an old towel. Wrapping the towel around Scruffy, she lifted him from the countertop and carefully placed him in the box. Then, after calling the vet and saying it was an emergency, Selma grabbed her car keys and purse, while mentally figuring out the quickest route to the animal clinic. Hoisting the box and looking down at poor Scruffy, she closed the door behind her. Selma wasn’t sure how the cat would react when she put him in the box, but so far, so good. She sighed with relief when Scruffy curled into a ball and purred as if he understood that she was taking him to a place where he would be helped.

  Dear Lord, Selma silently prayed as she hurried across the yard to get her car, please let this poor cat be okay. From that moment on, Selma knew for sure that Scruffy was here to stay.

  CHAPTER 32

  Shipshewana

  Selma sat in her rocking chair, looking down at Scruffy, who was sound asleep in the wicker bed she’d prepared for him after returning from the vet’s yesterday. The poor cat had several gashes that needed to be stitched, but Selma was thankful his injuries weren’t any worse. Dr. Benson had said it looked like Scruffy might have tangled with another cat, which made Selma wonder how that other cat had fared.

  Dr. Benson had given Selma some pills to mix in Scruffy’s food that would help with infection. He’d also given Scruffy a shot and suggested that Selma get the cat neutered as soon as he’d recovered from his injuries, as it might make him less apt to fight. The doctor said he thought Scruffy was about six months old. When Selma went back with the cat for his follow-up appointment in two weeks, he would get the needed shots, and Selma would set up another appointment for his surgery.

  Selma reached down, and when she stroked Scruffy’s silky head, his left ear twitched, but he didn’t open his eyes. The cat hadn’t done much more than sleep since she’d brought him home. At least early this morning she’d been able to get him to drink some water and eat a little food. The vet said not to worry if Scruffy didn’t have much of an appetite and seemed to sleep a lot. Those were some of the side effects from the medication he’d been given. Plus, the cat was sore from the sutures, which was another good reason to keep him calm and quiet.

  As Selma continued to look at the slumbering cat, she wished she could take away his pain. “You’ll be okay, boy,” she whispered, petting Scruffy’s head. “You have a home with me for as long as you like.”

  The cat emitted a soft purr, and Selma sighed contentedly. It felt kind of nice to know that someone needed her, even though it was an animal. She hadn’t experienced that in a long time.

  Topeka, Indiana

  Carmen had been driving around Amish Country all afternoon, stopping to talk to a few Amish people and watching them interact with each other in the various Amish-run stores. She needed to start writing her article soon but had been procrastinating.

  As she parked in front of another Amish store, she thought about the good time she’d had with Paul last Saturday evening. In fact, she found herself daydreaming about him a lot lately. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see his smiling face, hear the laughter in his voice, and smell his musky aftershave.

  She also thought about precious little Sophia and how every time the little girl saw Carmen, she would reach out her arms to her. Until she’d gotten to know her niece, Carmen had never desired to be a mother. Now, the idea of having a child of her own would be like a dream come true.

  Carmen’s cell phone rang, interrupting her musings. She glanced at the caller ID and grimaced. It was her boss—probably calling to check up on her again. She thought about letting it go into voice mail but knew she’d be prolonging the inevitable. Mr. Lawrence was a persistent man and would no doubt keep calling until she finally answered.

  “Hello, Mr. Lawrence,” Carmen said, holding the phone up to her ear.

  “Hey, Carmen. I’m calling to see how things are going. Have you got that article finished yet?”

  “No, I’m still working on it, and I thought you said I could have the full six weeks.”

  “I did say that, but there was another TV show on about the Amish last night, and I thought this would be a good time to publish the article on wild Amish teenagers and their parents who look the other way while the kids do whatever they want.”

  “It’s not like that, Mr. Lawrence. From what I’ve found out—”

  “So how soon can you have the article done?” he asked, cutting her off.

  “I—I don’t know. I’m going to need a little more time to gather information.”

  “Well, good grief, you’ve been there for four and a half weeks. I’d think by now you ought to know something.”

  “I have learned a lot,” Carmen said, “but not enough to write the story yet. I promise I’ll have something written up soon.”

  “How soon?”

  Doesn’t he ever let up? Carmen pressed her hands together until her veins protruded. “I need another week and a half. Can you give me that long to co
mplete the story?” she asked, trying her best to sound cheerful.

  Silence. Then he said, “Okay. A week and a half, that’s all. I expect a story on my desk by then, and it had better be a good one, Carmen, or you’ll be back to writing news about the freeway traffic.” Mr. Lawrence hung up without even saying good-bye.

  Carmen let her head fall forward onto the steering wheel and groaned. I need to write that article, no matter how much I don’t want to. If I don’t, I may lose my job. But how can I in good conscience write the negative article he wants me to when it’s not even true that all Amish kids go wild into drinking, drugs, and sex during their running-around years?

  Middlebury

  “Mom, Dad, there’s something I need to tell you,” Anna said after her family sat down to eat supper.

  “Can it wait till we’re done eating?” Dad asked. “I’ve been working hard all day and am really tired, so I’d like to eat without a bunch of noisy conversation.”

  Anna nodded. “Sure, Dad, it can wait.” Maybe it’s better this way, she decided. It would probably be best to talk to Mom and Dad privately, rather than in front of my sisters and brothers. I’m just anxious to get this over with.

  Earlier that day while working at the window shop, Anna had decided to tell her folks that she planned to go to Florida with Mandy in December. She was tired of keeping her plans bottled up inside and knew the longer she waited, the harder it would be. She hoped that for once they would understand her feelings and accept her decision to leave home and strike out on her own.

  As Anna began eating, her stomach tightened. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to finish her meal. The longer she waited to say what was on her mind, the more she questioned her decision to tell Mom and Dad tonight. Would it hurt to wait awhile longer—maybe until after the last quilting class? By then, she’d have her wall hanging done and could give it to Mom as a sort of peace offering.