The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club - 02 - The Tattered Quilt (12 page)

“Not really,” he said, leading the way to his kitchen. Carmen could see it still had Lorinda’s touch with the cheery decorations. “I fixed a taco salad for us, and Sophia will have scrambled eggs.” He chuckled. “It’s one of her favorite things to have for breakfast, but truth is, she likes eggs and could eat them most any time.”

“I’m with her on that. Sometimes I like to make breakfast for dinner. Speaking of Sophia, where is she right now?”

Paul motioned to the door leading to the living room. “In there, watching her favorite TV show with the giant puppets.”

Carmen smiled. “I’ve always enjoyed puppets, too.”

“Why don’t you go watch the show with her while I get everything on the table?” Paul suggested. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Are you sure there isn’t something I can do to help?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got it under control.”

“Okay.” Carmen started out of the room but turned back around. “Uh, Paul, there’s something I’d like to say, and if I don’t say it now, the evening might go by without another opportunity.”

Paul leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “What is it, Carmen?”

She took a step toward him. “I’m sorry for blaming you for Lorinda’s death and sorry for not offering more support when she died. I was angry that my sister had been taken from me and needed someone to blame. I realize now that it wasn’t your fault, and I don’t want there to be hard feelings between us.”

Paul stared at the floor. When he lifted his gaze, tears filled his eyes. “Thank you for saying that, Carmen. It means a lot.”

Carmen was tempted to give Paul a hug but thought better of it. She wanted to offer comfort, but didn’t want him to take it the wrong way. So instead, she merely smiled and said, “I feel better having apologized, and now I’m going to see my sweet little niece.”

As Carmen hurried from the room, struggling with tears of her own, she felt a sense of relief for having apologized to Paul. At least that heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Now if she could just get rid of the guilt she felt for not telling him the truth about why she’d come to Indiana.

Middlebury

“How’d things go at work today?” Anna’s mother asked as she began dishing up for supper.

“It was okay, I guess.” Anna grabbed some silverware from the drawer near the sink and proceeded to finish setting the table.

“Your daed was here almost two hours before you got home,” Mom said, reaching around Anna to put a bowl of salad on the table. “Where’d you go after he closed the shop?”

Anna squirmed under her mother’s scrutiny. “I…uh…went to visit one of my friends.”

“Which friend, Anna?”

“Mandy Zimmerman.”

Mom’s eyes narrowed. “You know we don’t like you hanging around her. She’s a bad influence with all her worldly notions.”

Anna went to the cupboard to get down the glasses.

“Mandy’s rebellious, too. I wish you would stop seeing her, Anna.”

Anger boiled in Anna’s chest.
Here we go again. Mom’s being critical and telling me what to do
.

“Anna, did you hear what I said?”

“Jah, I heard, but I think I ought to have the right to choose my own friends.”

Mom shook her head vigorously. “Not if they’re trying to lead you astray.”

“Mandy’s not doing that. She doesn’t push anything on me. She’s a lot of fun to be with, and I enjoy our times together.” Anna went to the sink, filled a pitcher with cold water, and placed it on the table. “Mom, some of the young people I know are planning a trip to the Fun Spot amusement park tomorrow, and I want to go along.”

“You can’t, Anna. Have you forgotten about the quilting class?”

“No, but I don’t want to go. I’d rather spend the day having fun with my friends than sitting in a room full of weird people and being forced to learn how to quilt.”

“I’m sure the other students aren’t weird.”

“Jah, they are. There’s a redheaded guy who tried to light up his cigarette in the Millers’ house and an old lady who thinks she knows more than the teacher does. Oh, and then there’s—”

Mom held up her hand. “That’s enough, Anna. You’re going to the quilting class tomorrow, and that’s all there is to it. Now go call your sisters and brothers to the supper table.”

Anna clenched her fingers so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. Tomorrow morning she would wake up with the flu or a cold, because there was no way she was going back to the quilting class!

C
HAPTER
10

T
he next morning, Anna entered the kitchen, still wearing her robe and slippers. “I can’t go to the quilt class today, because I’m
grank,”
she announced.

Mom turned from her job at the stove and frowned. “You’re sick? What’s wrong, Anna? Is it the flu?”

“Umm…jah, I think so.” Anna hated lying to her mother, but she had to do something to get out of going.

With a worried expression, Mom stepped away from the stove and hurried over to Anna. “You don’t have a
fiewer,”
she said, placing her hand on Anna’s forehead. “If you had the flu, I’m sure you’d feel warm. Your cheeks aren’t even flushed.”

“Well, maybe it’s not the flu, but I don’t feel well.” Anna dropped her gaze to the floor. It was hard to lie to Mom when she was looking at her with such concern.
I shouldn’t have let her feel my forehead
.

“Anna, are you pretending to be sick so you don’t have to go to the class today?” Mom asked, lifting Anna’s chin.

Tears pricked the backs of Anna’s eyes, but she held her ground. “I don’t want to go, Mom. I don’t like it there, and I don’t care if I ever learn how to quilt. I’m not a child, you know—I’m eighteen. I should be able to make my own decisions about something like this.”

“I’m sorry you don’t like the class, but I think it’ll be good for you to learn how to quilt. Your daed and I have already paid for the class, so you need to go.” Mom stared at Anna and then added, “Now go get dressed. As soon as breakfast is over and the dishes are done, your daed will hitch his horse to the buggy and take you to Emma’s.”

“Since you’ve already paid for the class, why can’t Arie go instead of me? She likes to sew.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “For goodness’ sakes, Anna, your sister doesn’t need sewing or quilting lessons. You’re the one I’ve never been able to teach.”

“Well, if I have to go, why can’t I ride my bike, like I did last week?” Anna asked, knowing she wasn’t going to get out of this. She also suspected that Mom didn’t trust her to go on her own. She probably thought Anna would skip the class and sneak off for the day with her friends, which was exactly what she would have done if she’d been able to ride her bike.

“Your daed has some errands to run in Shipshewana, so it only makes sense for him to take you—especially if you are feeling poorly.”

Anna grimaced. Like she was some sort of a little child, now she was stuck being taken to Emma’s and then sitting through another boring class.
Why do Mom and Dad treat me like a baby?
she wondered as she tromped up the stairs to her room.
Can’t they see that the more they force me to do things their way, the more determined I am to gain my freedom? If they don’t let up on me soon, I might leave home for good!

Shipshewana

“Are you ready for today?” Lamar asked, washing his hands after coming in from tending the goats.

“Jah, I suppose,” Emma responded.

When his hands were cleaned and dried, Lamar helped Emma set things out on the sewing table. “I have high hopes that the quilt class will go better today,” he said, offering her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “First classes are always a bit awkward, with everyone getting to know one another.”

She gave a slow nod. “I prayed this morning before breakfast that things would go well with the class.”

“I prayed the same thing.” Lamar placed his hands on Emma’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Even if things don’t go as we might like, I’m sure God will give us the right words to share with our quilting students.”

Emma smiled and kissed his cheek. “One thing I’ve always appreciated about you is your positive attitude. When I’m filled with doubts, you make me feel hopeful.”

“Just remember, our hope is in the Lord. Psalm 71:14 reminds us: ‘But I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more.’ ”

“You’re right,” Emma said. “Danki for that reminder.”

“That must be one of our students,” Lamar said when a knock sounded on the door. “Would you like me to get it?”

Emma nodded. “Jah, please.”

“One of your goats is out,” Selma said when Lamar answered her knock. She turned and pointed to the left side of the yard, where a frisky goat nibbled on the grass. “Unless you’re trying to replace your lawn mower, you ought to keep that critter in its pen.”

Lamar frowned. “Oh great. I must have left the gate open when I fed Emma’s goats this morning. Go ahead into the house. Emma’s in her sewing room.” He hurried past Selma and into the yard, hollering and waving his hands at the goat.

“Sure don’t know why anyone would want a bunch of goats. All they do is strip your yard clean, grass and all,” Selma muttered as she stepped into the house. “Dogs, cats, goats—they’re nothing but a nuisance.”