The Aloha Quilt (36 page)

“Maybe he shouldn’t.”

Claire frowned, incapable of accepting criticism unchallenged, even when she was indisputably
wrong. “Whatever you might think of me, I’m not a serial cheater.”

“Then why the secrecy?”

“You mean why didn’t I confess to you earlier? You, the most judgmental person I know?”

“It’s not judgmental to disapprove of adultery.”

“I disapprove of it too! Don’t you get it? It’s in my past. Every day I regret what
I did. Every day I thank God that Eric was able to forgive me.”

“If it’s in your past, then why do you password protect your computer? Why do you
shut down your web browser every time I walk into the office when you’re online?”

“I keep my guests’ financial information on my computer,” said Claire. “It would be
irresponsible of me not to use a password.
As for the web browser—fine, I admit I haven’t wanted you to see what sites I’ve been
visiting.”

“Because you’re still communicating with that man.”

“No, because I’m the co-administrator of an online support group for women who are
involved in affairs.”

“Be serious.”

“I am. There’s a real need whether you believe it or not. We offer them support, encouragement,
and tough love when it’s called for. These women are desperate and despondent, Bonnie.
They want to end their affairs, but they feel trapped and they have nowhere else to
go. Some of them face violence from their husbands or lovers or both when they want
to leave the affair or if the truth comes out. These women need help, but they can’t
turn to their friends, because what would their friends think of them if they confessed
the truth?”

“You know who deserves help?” Bonnie countered. “The betrayed spouses.”

“They have online support groups too, but obviously I’m in no position to run them.
I learned my lesson the hard way and now I try to help other women stop the lies and
betrayal, for their own sakes as well as that of everyone whose lives they touch.
Every day I try to atone for what I’ve done by being the best possible wife I can
to Eric and by helping other women end their affairs—” Abruptly Claire fell silent
and inhaled deeply. “But I understand if after all you’ve been through, that’s not
enough. Forgiveness isn’t something you can demand, or even earn. I get that. If our
places were reversed—”

“Our places could never be reversed,” Bonnie broke in with more force than she felt,
for most of her anger had drained away. “I never could have done what you did.”

Claire regarded her for a long moment. “Probably not,” she
finally said, “but nine years ago, I would have insisted the same thing about myself.”

She poured herself a cup of coffee and left the kitchen, leaving Bonnie speechless
and staring after her.

With two weeks to go before the soft launch of Aloha Quilt Camp, Bonnie and Claire
raced to prepare, working separately whenever possible, together when absolutely necessary.
Bonnie wasn’t sure which of them was trying harder to avoid the other, but at least
they managed to be civil. She missed their old friendliness and wished Claire had
never impulsively blurted out her guilty secret.

“She can’t win,” Hinano remarked one evening after Bonnie returned to his apartment
after a long day setting up the outdoor classroom. “You condemn her for lying and
you hate her for telling you the truth.”

“I don’t hate her,” Bonnie replied automatically. “I hate what she did.”

“Eh, snowbird, I’m sure Claire finds that very comforting.”

In the days that followed, their new teachers arrived and began settling into their
rooms at the Hale Kapa Kuiki. Asuka Fujiko, a strikingly beautiful and vivacious art
quilter, had brought only two suitcases with her on her flight from Tokyo, one packed
with clothing and the other stuffed full of sample projects for her quilting workshops.
When Claire could not disguise her concern that Asuka’s lack of luggage meant that
she didn’t intend to stay long, Asuka cheerfully explained that she preferred to travel
lightly, but she intended to go on a shopping spree in Waikiki after she received
her first paycheck.

Bonnie was especially eager to become better acquainted with the second new teacher
to arrive, Arlene Gustafson, a
twice-divorced traditional quilter in her late fifties who looked as if she would
be equally comfortable seated at a sewing machine or on a tractor. When Bonnie expressed
her dismay that she had left her copies of Arlene’s three pattern books back home
in Pennsylvania and would miss the opportunity to have them autographed, Arlene pulled
pattern book number four out of her denim knapsack, signed the title page with a flourish,
and announced that Bonnie was the only other person beside her own mother to receive
a copy a month before the official publication date. “It’s hot off the presses,” she
explained as Bonnie, Midori, and Asuka admired the book and Claire wondered aloud
why Arlene hadn’t mentioned it during her job interview. “Not that I’m a pessimist,
but I didn’t want to say anything until I held a copy in my hands and it was too late
for my publisher to cancel production.”

Last of all came the teacher who had the shortest distance to travel, Kawena Wilson,
who had lived all her life on the Big Island. She and Midori struck up a fast friendship
over their mutual love for traditional Hawaiian appliqué as well as other native arts
of the islands of the South Pacific. Before Kawena had even unpacked, she and Midori
began brainstorming plans for a weeklong seminar in the making of traditional kapa
cloth by soaking and pounding the inner bark of the paper mulberry tree.

“Not for next week,” Claire said, alarmed. “The schedule’s set and we couldn’t possibly
squeeze anything else in.”

Kawena and Midori laughed and assured Claire that they were willing to wait until
well after the official launch of Aloha Quilt Camp before they overhauled the curriculum.
With a pang of regret, Bonnie realized that she would be far away by that time. Not
only would she miss out on the chance to learn an intriguing traditional art, she
would also be unable to watch
Aloha Quilt Camp grow and evolve over time as she had with Elm Creek Quilts.

For three days the founding faculty of Aloha Quilt Camp prepared for the arrival of
their first students, organizing the outdoor classroom on the shaded lanai, discussing
the daily schedules, finishing display samples, and planning for emergencies. In the
midst of the whirlwind of activity were the usual tasks of the Hale Kapa Kuiki, and
Bonnie was pleased to see that the new teachers volunteered to help out however they
were needed, once they realized how much work needed to be done.

“Now that I see everyone working together, I know we chose the best of the best,”
Claire confided to Bonnie as they overheard Midori, Arlene, and Kawena folding linens
in the laundry room, laughing and commiserating as they confessed their worst sewing
disasters.

“They remind me so much of the Elm Creek Quilters,” Bonnie said. “If a task needs
to be done, they pitch in and take care of it, regardless of what’s in their actual
job description.”

“It’s all about teamwork, not competition,” Claire agreed. “If we can keep this up,
I think we have a chance to make it.”

“You have more than a chance. Aloha Quilt Camp will be a huge success. I know it.”

Bonnie and Claire exchanged smiles full of hope and anticipation, and for a moment
Bonnie remembered the Claire she had long known and long believed in, the impulsive
but loyal friend who sometimes acted without thinking but never failed to support
Bonnie staunchly whenever she faced a crisis. Suddenly Bonnie wondered why Claire
had not come to her when her marriage had faltered eight years before. She searched
her memory but could not recall a single sign that Claire had been unhappy or lonely.
Why had she hidden her troubles from her oldest and dearest friend?

Or had she hidden them?

Was it possible that Claire had dropped hints, hoping that Bonnie would encourage
her to open up, but Bonnie had been so caught up in her work and new friendships that
she had missed the signs completely? Or worse yet, had she seen the signs but had
dismissed them as nothing of concern? With a shock of realization, Bonnie recalled
odd catches in Claire’s voice over the phone that she had attributed to fatigue, puzzling
asides about Eric in letters that she had decided were meant as jokes, tearful questions
about what comprised a “normal” marriage that Bonnie had teasingly answered and forgotten.
She suddenly remembered one particular phone conversation in which Claire confessed
that Eric hadn’t touched her in three months, even when she put on provocative lingerie
and threw herself at him, and since she hadn’t lost her looks as far as she could
tell and she knew his equipment still functioned, she could only assume he was getting
it somewhere else. Bonnie had laughed it off, assured Claire that she was as pretty
as ever, insisted that Eric adored her, and teased her about watching too many daytime
talk shows when she should have been working. Claire thanked Bonnie for her reassurances,
but her voice had been oddly subdued. She had never mentioned her concerns again,
so Bonnie assumed Claire and Eric had overcome the bump in the road—if there ever
had been a bump, since Claire was prone to exaggeration—and soon forgot the whole
matter. Or she had until Claire’s terrible secret forced the memories to emerge and
hindsight revealed Claire’s worries for what they truly had been.

Claire had come to Bonnie at her most desperate hour, but Bonnie had brushed off her
worries, as reluctant as Eric had been to believe that her friends’ iconic, happy,
stable marriage was as fragile as any other. If Bonnie had listened, if she had
truly heard Claire, she could have encouraged and supported her as she tried to figure
out where her marriage had taken a wrong turn and how she and Eric could get back
on track. If Bonnie had been a better friend, perhaps Claire never would have turned
to another man for what she was missing in her life.

Claire was still ultimately responsible for her bad choices—but, Bonnie admitted,
she
had
accepted responsibility for them. It would have been better if the affair had never
happened, but Claire had ended it, she was remorseful, and she was atoning by committing
herself to her marriage and helping other women find their way free.

If that was good enough for Eric, it ought to be good enough for Bonnie.

When the day’s work was done, the staff of Aloha Quilt Camp would gather outside on
the lanai in the flickering light of tiki torches drinking iced tea spiked with pineapple
juice, listening to the waves crash on the beach beyond the trees and chatting about
the week ahead and the months to come. Each night Bonnie lingered later into the evening,
hurrying back to Hinano’s apartment for a kiss hello, a late supper, and a few delightful
hours enjoying his company before bed. Then one evening Claire excused herself from
what had become their customary way to relax after a busy day, explaining that she
had piles of registration forms to sort through and coordinate with those she had
received online. The three newcomers protested that they couldn’t possibly enjoy the
gorgeous Maui sunset knowing that Claire was toiling away in her office, and they
insisted that she bring her paperwork and laptop outside so they could all share in
the work as well as the pleasant company.
Bonnie and Midori pitched in too, but it was very late by the time they finished and
Bonnie was too weary for the walk through Lahaina to Hinano’s apartment.

She had left behind some extra clothes in her haste to leave the inn, so she called
Hinano and told him she was thinking about sleeping over at the Hale Kapa Kuiki instead
of coming to his place.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, “but it’s late and you should stay. I have some projects
to work on anyway.”

“It’s just for one night. I’m coming home tomorrow.”

“Home?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Eh, I guess I do.”

She smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”