Read The Friendship Star Quilt Online
Authors: Patricia Kiyono,Stephanie Michels
The Friendship Star Quilt (21 page)
Brad watched Anne as she moved around his kitchen, chatting with Aunt Bonnie and his mother as they prepared several pumpkin pies for the oven. It was unusual for his aunt to share the kitchen with anyone other than his mom. Even then, she always presided over it with same authority she used in the courtroom, delegating her sister to the simplest of tasks. Peeling potatoes. Making the salad. But with Anne, his aunt had relinquished control, or at least she shared it.
It was very curious. He'd expected Aunt Bonnie to grill Anne, give her the third degree. Where was she from? What did she do? How had she learned to sew and cook? School, parents, and all the things he'd wondered about, too, but hadn't had the heart to ask. Most of all, he'd wondered what had caused the sadness which so often lurked in her eyes. He knew his mother was curious, too. He'd seen the surprise on her face when she met Anne. However, his mother and his aunt had engaged Anne in conversation, gently drawing her from her shell until they were laughing and ganging up on him when he tried to steal tastes of the holiday cooking.
Anne seemed animated and happy. Her eyes sparkled as she mixed the pie filling from memory, explaining she'd been making it since she was only a bit older than Jennie. He liked watching as her slender form moved through the kitchen, full of purpose and confidence. She turned to Jennie, asking if she'd like to help roll out the crusts. The sight of the two blond heads bent together over the task nearly took his breath away.
“Bradley, do you have those beans snapped yet? I'm going to need them soon for the green bean casserole.”
He blinked then checked the bowl of vegetables. Not even halfway finished. “I'll be done in minute, Aunt Bonnie.”
He snapped like crazy. He certainly didn't want to be blamed for Thanksgiving dinner being late.
****
Anne listened to the warm laughter and friendly chatter around Brad's dinner table. She didn't need to hear the actual conversations to feel the love shared by his family members. The happy sounds reminded her so much of meals with her grandparents she had to swallow past a sudden lump of loneliness.
Holidays had been much different when she'd been married to Jeffrey. Cold, formal occasions spent at his parents' house. Gourmet meals prepared by a chef and served on fine china and crystal. Roast duck rather than turkey, asparagus tips instead of green bean casserole, and heaven help anyone who expected mashed potatoes or homemade stuffing. Every meal had been accompanied by huge portions of contempt for the uncultured girl who had married into the family. She'd learned to sit quietly, never offering an opinion for fear of being belittled by one of the Harpers, and to pray for the nightmare to end.
Remembering those times made her shiver. Why had she stayed at their table for so long? She knew the answer. Fear of Jeffrey's retaliation. Compared to those days, spending quiet holidays alone was heavenly. She'd been quite content to make a simple meal and be alone. Then she'd received the unexpected invitation to join Brad's family for dinner. A happy meal where everyone relaxed and conversed.
As she watched Brad's parents banter with his aunt and uncle about their favorite football team, Anne realized how much she'd missed meals like this one. Not the comfort foodsâshe could do without themâbut the love and camaraderie. Was being in hiding a worthwhile trade for never having a family like this?
Yes.
She glanced at her plate, her appetite gone. There were much worse things than being alone.
Anne sat quietly, trying frantically to remember the deportment lessons Jeffrey and her in-laws felt impelled to give her at every meal.
“Sit up straight, girl, don't slouch. You're not on a farm anymore!”
“Place your napkin in your lap. Neatly, for goodness sake.”
“Not that fork! Begin with the utensils at the outside of your place setting. They're put this way for a reason, you know.”
By the time the maid served the meal, Anne's appetite had taken flight. But she'd learned enough by now to hide it. She cut her food into dainty little pieces she could push around her plate so it appeared like she did more than take nibbles. She just wanted to make it through one dinner party without recriminations. A part of her felt grateful for the lessons they gave her. Growing up, she'd never had the opportunity to learn fine manners, and she didn't want to appear uncultured around Jeffrey's friends, if and when she ever met them. Still, it would have been nice if the Harpers had recognized her efforts and rewarded her with even a tiny hint of encouragement. Instead, all of them, even Jeffrey's young sister, delighted in her every misstep.
But she'd learn, hang it all. Yes, she would. She'd accept all their lessons, learn to be cultured and refined. But would she pay too much in the process?
“Anne, would you mind passing the rolls, please?”
Rolls?
She startled and glanced around the table. Oh, there they were, right in front of her.
Anne quickly picked up the basket to hand to Brad's aunt, but in her haste, she knocked one of the rolls from the basket. Time seemed to lengthen like one of those slo-mo replays in a sports broadcast. Aghast, she saw the roll bounce on the linen-covered table and nearly fall into the gravy boat.
“Oh goodness, I'm so sorry!” she apologized, feeling the blood drain from her face as time returned to regular speed once more. She hung her head, waiting for the reproaches.
But her former in-laws weren't at this table. Instead, an adorable little girl sat on her right side, and the man who'd brought happiness into her life again sat across from her. At that moment, he glanced over and met her eyes. He smiled warmly then returned to the discussion of touchdown yardages with his father and uncle.
“Don't worry about the roll.” The gray-haired woman on Anne's left said. Brad's aunt moved it aside then reached for the basket. “It's my fault for piling too many in there.”
“We'll never eat all of these,” Mrs. Carmichael added from the far end of the table, “but my sister hates to run out of anything.”
“I think she's trying to fatten me up,” Brad's uncle said, rubbing his slight paunch.
“I'd say it's working,” his wife replied. The loving glance the couple exchanged reminded Anne of the special way her grandparents had always looked at each other.
“We're lambs to the slaughter, Ted.” Mr. Carmichael announced and patted his own stomach with amusement.
“Talk about slaughters.” Brad's aunt leaned forward and quirked an eyebrow at her brother-in-law. “What was up with your team last weekend? Someone should tell them to sleep
after
the game not
during
it.”
“Very funny, Bonnie,” Mr. Carmichael returned, good-naturedly.
Brad caught her eye across the table and gave her a little wink. Anne grinned and picked up her fork, the dropped roll all but forgotten.
“At least our quarterback can throw a pass without getting sacked,” she commented and joined in the friendly banter.
Brad glanced into the congregation from the front of the sanctuary, where he'd finished warming up the brass choir. He knew he should be focused on his responsibilities as their director, but his attention was divided between them and his young daughter sitting all alone in the front pew. He nodded encouragingly at her then turned back to his young musicians.
A little over a year ago, he hadn't had to worry about what his daughter was doing. He'd been able to give his total attention to his liturgical duties, knowing Sarah could sit beside their daughter through the service. Or, more likely, they both would be at home. Sarah had seldom attended the church's special events like this Thursday night carol service. Actually, she hadn't come to the regular weekly services too often either. She had preferred lazy Sunday mornings, staying in bed to read the paper or watch the talk shows. After her death, Brad had cut back on his volunteer directing, so he could be with his daughter. On the mornings when he did lead the musical groups, he'd been able to leave his daughter in the care of her Sunday school teacher. This evening, however, Jennie was out there alone, and even though they were in the church sanctuary, it made him uneasy. What if she got ill or needed him?
A blur of motion at the side aisle caught Brad's eye. He glanced that way in time to see a lovely blonde slip into the pew beside Jennie. A smile twitched the corners of his lips at the sight of Anne. He hadn't been sure if she would be able to make it or not. But there she was, absolutely lovely in a simple blouse and long skirt. It was a far cry from the expensive ensembles Sarah had worn whenever she attended church, however, this outfit suited Anne. Her ivory shirt glistened in the candlelight, and her skirt flowed gracefully around her. So did her hair. She'd let it down this evening, and it glistened like a halo, falling in gentle waves around her delicate features.
Jennie saw Anne slide into the pew, and her little face lit up. She reached up to give Anne a hug, and the joy in his daughter's face filled Brad's heart. Life had given Jennie some tough blows, but she had embraced his recent advice about hugs. Now, she seemed to enjoy giving them as much as receiving them. Jennie seemed to be making up for lost time, and she smiled more these days, too.
“Mr. Carmichael?”
Brad glanced at his trumpet player, who pointed a finger at the assistant pastor. Rev. James wasn't speaking but had turned his full attention to Brad and the brass group, one bushy eyebrow raised.
Rats
. He'd missed his cue while he'd been watching Anne and Jennie.
Thankfully, with Anne in the pew beside his daughter, Brad knew he could stop worrying. She would take care of his daughter so he could focus his full attention on the ensemble and the beautiful music they'd prepared for this year's Carols and Candles service. He picked up his baton and gave an encouraging nod to the young musicians, who nervously fingered their horns. He glanced at the Choirmaster, who gave a subtle signal to his singers, and the choir rose in unison. Joy filled Brad's heart as he raised his arms to conduct the first hymn. For a brief second, he wondered if it was in anticipation of the music he loved or because Jennie was safe with Anne?
Or could it possibly be due to the beautiful woman herself?
****
Anne settled in the seat beside Jennie to listen to the wonderful hymn service. She'd been delighted when she wakened to see the morning had dawned sunny and clear sky after several days of heavy snows. The balmy weather had allowed her to wear her lightweight fall coat to the advent service instead of the second-hand winter jacket she usually wore every day. Even though she'd hung it in the foyer before slipping into the sanctuary to join Jennie, it still made Anne feel more confident about her appearance.
The candlelight hymn service had always been one her favorite holiday eventsâGrams' favorite, tooâbecause of the message of peace and hope the season brought. Anne hadn't attended church very often since she'd married Jeffrey. He thought such things were foolish. Then, when she came to Grandville, she'd been too frightened of being recognized by someone who might have seen her picture in the news, so she'd stayed away from public gatherings. At least, it was the excuse she'd given herself. Deep in her heart, Anne knew she'd also been angry with God over what He'd allowed to happen to her and her baby. But the last few months had changed Anne. She was coming to terms with her life and was ready to embrace the season's message of hope.
Jennie's phone call the previous afternoon had brightened her day. Anne loved the surprise chats they'd have when the little girl occasionally called the shop.
“Will you please come and sit with me at church tomorrow night?” she'd asked. “Daddy has to be with the band, so he'll be up front, and I'll be by myself. I can save you a seat. And we'll have supper in the basement afterwards.”
Of course Anne had agreed to go. She had grown quite fond of the child and had a hard time turning down a request.
Besides, it would give her a chance to see Brad conduct, as well.
She had to admit Jennie's father definitely intrigued her. She'd never seen him in a suit before, and this one was impeccably tailored to emphasize his broad shoulders and lean frame yet allow him freedom of movement as he conducted. Brad was so handsome in the spotlight, his hands and arms moved with both strength and grace. But Anne was attracted to something far more important than Brad's appearance or musical talents. He never lost his temper. He was so calm and loving with his daughter, and Anne's friends in the quilt group all praised the way he worked with their children, too. His gentle humor and genuine caring warmed her heart.
Maybe she could trust him not to hurt her.
What are you thinking? The man
hasn't expressed the remotest bit of romantic interest in you.
Brad Carmichael had been kind and grateful for her help, but she was deluding herself if she imagined there was anything more to it. After all, the man was a recent widower. Just because he'd asked her opinion about thingsâusually something to do with his daughterâand shared a few meals didn't mean he was interested in her as a woman. The realization stung a bit, but facts were facts. The man just needed feedback and advice with his daughter, a woman's point of view. Well, she could give him those things. She'd alter uniforms for him, help with costumes for the spring musical, and support him in whatever way he needed.
She'd love him from a distance.
Love?
As the beautiful hymns surrounded her, she accepted the truth of the situation. She'd somehow fallen in love with Brad Carmichael. How had it happened? The attraction had started with Jennie. The little girl was an angel, and Anne would love her even without her handsome father thrown into the mix.
But Brad was the one Anne dreamed of when she went to sleep at night. The one she longed to share things with, who brightened her day each time she saw him.
Jennie leaned against Anne, resting her little head on Anne's arm. The warmth of her little body felt wonderful. Anne shifted positions so she could wrap an arm around the youngster, drawing her even closer. The child snuggled happily against her as the brass ensemble played and the choir sang of peace and glad tidings. Warmth flooded through Anne. She drank in the joy, the wonder, and her heart overflowed as the triumphant timbre of the brass choir filled the sanctuary. When the Choirmaster turned and signaled for the congregation to rise and join in carol, she and Jennie did so with enthusiasm.
The congregation took their seats when the song finished, and Pastor Lockhart, a youngish man, rose and gave a moving homily about the meaning of the season. His words struck deeply, as if they'd been meant for her alone. Was this why she'd ended up in Grandville? So she could hear this message and be comforted, set free from her captivity?
The rest of the service passed in a blur. She rose when the congregation rose, sat when they sat, sang when the people around her sang. Everything else faded away, the stained glass windows, the banners, even the pungent scent of the pine garlands draped around the room. Had she finally come to a place where she could stay? Where she could belong? Where people would let her grow and be herself? Where Jeffrey and his family no longer had a hold over her, couldn't hurt her anymore?
When the service ended and people migrated toward the basement for a light supper, Anne picked up her purse, but Jennie remained seated, waiting patiently for her father. Glancing at the stage, Anne saw Brad would be tied up for a while yet. She caught his eye and signaled she and Jennie would meet him downstairs. The sexy smile he gave her sent another flood of warmth to her overflowing heart.
“C'mon, Jennie,” she said, holding out her hand to the child. “You can show me where the food is, and your dad will meet us when he's done.”
Festive streamers draped the ceiling of the church basement. The long tables sported decorations created by the children's Sunday School classes, candy dishes made from the bottoms of plastic milk jugs and decorated with construction paper stars, trees, and other Christmas motifs. Foil-wrapped chocolates nestled inside each dish. Jennie pulled Anne toward a table in the middle of the room and pointed out the centerpiece.
“This is the candy dish I made in Sunday School last week, Miss Anne. I put music notes on it for Daddy. Can we sit here?”
“Of course, we can. Your candy dish is very pretty.” Anne settled herself in a metal folding chair at the end of the table with Jennie beside her. Around her, other people settled into the other chairs, so she placed her purse at the empty space next to Jennie to save it for Brad.
“Excuse me, miss, don't I know you?”
Despite the polite tone, the question made Anne's heart lurch. Her eyes flew wide and she spun to face the speaker.
“Aren't you the young lady from the quilt shop?” a pleasant-faced brunette with a pixie cut and sparkling eyes asked. She put two glasses of punch on the other side of the table then settled in a seat there.
Anne recognized the woman as Linda Moore, owner of Cards and Moore, the gift shop near Mario's restaurant. She returned the woman's greeting. “Yes, I am. I'm Anne Brown. And you're Mrs. Moore, aren't you?”
The woman nodded. “Did you make the beautiful blouse you're wearing? You never see such lovely workmanship on the ones in the mall.”
Anne blushed and thanked her then answered the woman's question about the fabric.
“Jennifer Marie Carmichael, you know you're not supposed to eat candy before dinner.” Brad's stern voice came from the other side of Jennie.
A glance at the little girl revealed she had raided the candy dish while Anne had been talking. Several empty red-and-green foil wrappers lay on the table in front of her. With a gasp, Anne pulled Jennie into her lap, wrapping her in a protective embrace.
“I'm sorry, Brad. I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching her. It's my fault. I won't let her eat any more chocolate. I promise.”
She had failed again. Now, he was mad, but she wouldn't let him hurt Jennie. Even if he yelled and began to throw things andâ
“It's okay, Miss Anne. Don't cry.” Jennie's soft voice cut through Anne's panic.
She blinked and saw the people at their table all staring at her. Worse, Brad stood rooted in place with a shocked expression on his face. Anne loosened the death grip she had on Jennie â even though the child didn't seem particularly alarmed by it â and took a deep breath, calming herself.
Jennie, ever practical, reached for a napkin and patted Anne's cheeks to dry the tears there. “Don't worry, Miss Anne. Daddy just sounds mad sometimes. But he's not. Honest.”
As if to prove it, she hopped down from Anne's lap and hugged her father's middle. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I forgot I was supposed to wait until I ate my supper. I won't eat any more chocolates until later.”
“Okay, Princess,” he said, but he continued to stare at Anne. Finally, he patted his daughter's hair, reassuringly. “Let me just clear these wrappers from the table so we'll be ready for our meal.” He scooped up the foil wrappers and carried them to a tall waste basket at the side of the room.
Anne used the time to compose herself, aware of the continued silence around the table. How embarrassing. Brad had probably used the wrappers as an excuse to get away from her. She wished she had thought of it first. Why in heaven's name had she overreacted so badly? Brad hadn't made any threats or raised his voice. He'd merely spoken sternly. She'd reacted like some sort of madwoman, grabbing poor little Jennie and sobbing the way she had. Mortified, she prayed the floor would open and swallow her.
“Let us bow our heads and give thanks for the lovely meal we're about to share this evening.” The pastor's voice coming over the speakers put an end to the conversations in the room.
Anne bowed her head along with everyone else, but when the pastor finished his prayer of thanks, her chair was empty.