The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club - 02 - The Tattered Quilt (10 page)

“My name is Cheryl Halverson, and I live in Goshen.” She motioned to the tattered quilt she’d brought along. “At the suggestion of my pastor’s wife, I brought my grandma’s old quilt to Emma for repair. After I got here, I decided to take the quilting class.”

“Guess it’s my turn.” Terry spoke up before Emma had a chance to say he was next. “I’m Terry Cooley, and I also live here in Shipshe.” He grinned at Cheryl. “In case you didn’t know it, Shipshe’s what many of the locals call Shipshewana. Oh, and I’m a roofer by trade.”

“What made you decide to join our quilting class?” Lamar asked.

Terry scooted around in his chair, giving his ponytail a quick twist. Then he blew out his breath in a noisy, almost snort. “Well, uh…I just thought to myself, if Jan could take the class and like it, then maybe I would, too.” He glanced over at Cheryl and grinned. “Thought it might be a chance to make a few new friends as well.”

No words were needed as the rhythm of Cheryl’s nails clicking on the table spelled out her annoyance with Terry.

Oh dear
, Emma thought, seizing the moment to glance out the window, then turning to look at Lamar. His gentle-looking eyes reassured her, even though she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Emma didn’t want to feel discouraged, but she couldn’t help wondering if this was going to be another challenging class.
If so, Lord, please give me the right words to help these students
.

C
HAPTER
8

H
ow’d things go with the quilt class?” Jan asked Terry as they headed to Emma and Lamar’s Monday morning to begin putting on the new roof.

“I would have told you on Saturday if you’d come back to get me,” Terry muttered, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes.

“I couldn’t help it. When Star called and said one of her tires went flat, I had to rescue her. I tried calling, but you didn’t answer your cell phone, so I left a message.”

“I didn’t realize my phone was turned off. Then when I did turn it on, the battery was dead. Selma saw me walking home, so she stopped and offered me a ride.” Terry groaned. “It was nice of her to drive me home, and it sure beat walking, but that woman nearly drove me nuts with all her snide remarks about nearly everyone in the class. She even had something mean to say about Cheryl.”

“Who’s Cheryl?” Jan asked.

“That hot-looking blond I plan to take out,” Terry proclaimed, blowing rings of smoke.

Jan cranked his head as they drove past the parking lot of the local grocery store.

“Hey! You’d better watch where you’re going!” Terry shouted.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I was checking out that Harley in the parking lot back there.”

Terry glanced back at the cycle. “It’s a nice one, all right.”

“About that date,” Jan said, “did you get anywhere with it?”

Terry shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Did she show any interest in you at all?”

“No, and I don’t wanna rush it. Just give me a chance to work my charm on her.”

Jan shook his head. “I still say she’s not your type, and I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Well, you know what they say…opposites attract.” Terry swallowed as he flicked what was left of his cigarette out the window. “She sure is pretty and seems really nice, and I’m definitely attracted to her.”

“You know, I do have an ashtray,” Jan muttered.

“I didn’t think there was room in there. Not with all the gum wrappers and stuff you have jammed inside. When was the last time you cleaned out this truck anyways?” Terry asked.

“Been awhile, I guess.”

“Been awhile?” Terry looked at Jan, raising his brows and pointing at the dashboard. “I’ll bet I could tell you every burger joint you’ve stopped at within the last month by all the Styrofoam cups and wrappers you have stuffed up there. It looks like you’ve been living in this truck.”

“S–weet, isn’t it?” Jan snickered. “This rig is sorta like my man cave, you know.” He poked Terry with his elbow. “Anyways, back to this Cheryl gal. What if the interest you have in her ain’t mutual? Then what are you gonna do?”

“Let’s change the subject, shall we?”

“Sure, whatever. Why don’t you tell me about Selma? How’d she do at the quilt class?”

Terry grunted. “I don’t even know why she came. She already knows everything about making a quilt.”

Jan’s eyebrows furrowed. “She does? Then why she’d agree to take the class?”

“Maybe she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Or maybe she really doesn’t know much about quilting and was just trying to act like she does.”

Jan gave his index finger a quick pop before grabbing the wheel again. “You know, I’ll bet that’s it. It don’t surprise me, neither. Selma probably acted like a know-it-all to cover up for what she doesn’t know. She’s one complicated woman.”

Selma set her plate of scrambled eggs on the kitchen table and heaved a sigh as she took a seat. Another day of having breakfast and wishing she had someone to share it with. She missed her husband and daughter so much. She couldn’t bring John back from the dead, and she’d all but given up on ever seeing Cora again. Selma attended church on a regular basis, yet she had no real friends. Everyone had their own families, like she’d had once, and what would anyone want to do with a lonely old woman?

Selma took a bite of her scrambled eggs and tried not to let images from the past clog her brain like they’d done so many times before. The last thing she wanted to do was stir up old memories. All it did was make her yearn for the past. And she knew all too well that the past was the past, and there was no getting it back.

She glanced at the calendar on the wall near the sink.
Well, at least I have another quilting class to go to. I just wish I didn’t have to wait until Saturday
.

Selma had all of her squares cut out and couldn’t wait to start sewing them together. If she weren’t afraid of her teacher’s reaction, she’d use her own sewing machine and sew them this week instead of waiting to do them during class.

A thump on the back porch drove Selma’s thoughts aside, and she pushed away from the table. Since the thump wasn’t followed by a knock on the door, she figured it wasn’t someone coming to visit.
Don’t tell me one of the neighbor kids threw something on my porch
.

Draping a sweater around her shoulders so she wouldn’t get chilled, she opened the door and was surprised to see a mangy-looking gray cat staring up at her.
Meow!

“Go away. Shoo!” Selma clapped her hands, but the cat didn’t budge. “Go on now, get!” She stamped her feet and reached for the broom leaning against the wall near her door. “Go back to wherever you belong!”

The cat hissed and bounded off the porch. Selma stepped back inside and slammed the door. “Stupid neighborhood pests,” she mumbled. “You’ll never catch me owning a cat or a dog!” Shuffling her slipper-covered feet back to the table so she could finish her breakfast, Selma realized that the cat didn’t have a collar. Maybe it was just a stray. Well, she hoped it didn’t come around her place again!

Mishawaka

“How’d things go at the quilting class?” Stuart asked when Blaine arrived at work Monday morning.

Blaine frowned. “Let’s just say that I’ve had more fun sitting in the dentist’s chair than I did during those two grueling hours. And that’s saying a lot, because I hate going to the dentist.”

“That bad, huh?”

Blaine nodded. “No wonder you dreaded going to that class.”

“I did at first,” Stuart admitted, “but after I got to know everyone, they kind of became my friends. At least most of them did. I never got that close to the biker or his newfound daughter, though.”

“Well, I doubt anyone attending Emma’s class will ever be my friend. There were too many people eyeballing me, and it made me sweat.”

Stuart’s eyebrows lifted. “How many people are taking the class?”

“Six, counting me.”

“That’s the same number that were in my class. You shouldn’t feel nervous around that small of a group. It’s not like you’re teaching the class or anything.”

“I know, but it wasn’t just the amount of people there.”

“What was it then?”

“I felt some sort of undercurrent going on, and you know I don’t like conflict—even when I’m not personally involved.”

“What kind of conflict?” Stuart wanted to know.

Blaine leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Let’s see now…this white-haired lady, Selma, acted like she knew more than Emma. She was a bit snippy, too. Oh, and the young Amish woman who came in late obviously had a chip on her shoulder and even said she didn’t want to be there. Then there was the Hispanic woman who seemed kind of nervous. Oh, and the redheaded roofer was obnoxious and kept trying to hit on the pretty blond woman, who clearly didn’t like him or his ashtray aroma.”

“So the guy’s a smoker, huh?”

“Yeah. He actually tried to light up in Emma’s house, but I put a stop to that. He ended up going outside for a smoke, and I was hoping he wouldn’t come back.”

Stuart laughed. “Sounds like another group of challenging characters for Emma and Lamar to deal with.” He gave Blaine’s arm a reassuring tap. “Just relax and enjoy the ride. By the end of the six weeks, you might feel differently about things. Believe me, I never thought so at first, but it does get better.”

“I doubt that,” Blaine muttered. “And I probably won’t know any more about quilting than I do right now.”