An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler (112 page)

With the same grin, Brandon said, “That could be either good or bad, though, couldn’t it?”

“Here, Becca,” Lindsay said quickly. “I’m younger than Brandon. I’ll start.”

Becca handed her a box wrapped in red-and-white-striped paper, and for the next half hour, they opened presents one by one, with Paul’s system creating occasional but easily remedied confusions, since Lindsay and Brandon had already exchanged gifts. Donna had not expected a present from Brandon, and thought that, at the most, Lindsay would include his name on her gifts, but Brandon had brought presents for everyone. To Paul he gave a computerized day planner; for Becca, he had brought a cashmere sweater set that made her squeal with delight; Donna received an elegant gold watch, set with a diamond chip.

“Brandon, this is too much,” Donna exclaimed, admiring the watch. She and Paul had given him a nice sweater and a medical text on CD-ROM that Lindsay had said he wanted, and until that moment, she had considered them suitable gifts. Now she realized Brandon’s family must celebrate Christmas on a much more lavish scale than the Jorgensons did, and she wondered if he would think them cheap. He seemed pleased by their appreciation of his gifts, however, so she decided not to fuss about it, and to make it up to him on his birthday.

After the last present had been unwrapped and admired, they were sitting around the Christmas tree chatting when suddenly Brandon slapped his thighs, smiled at Lindsay, and said, “Well, honey? Should we hit the road?”

“Already?” Donna protested. Brandon smiled amiably, but Lindsay looked uncomfortable. “You haven’t even had dessert yet.”

“Thanks, but we don’t want dessert.” Brandon stacked up his gifts and rose, then turned to Lindsay. “Are you ready?”

Lindsay hastened to gather her boxes. “Thanks for everything,” she said, her voice apologetic. “Dinner was great, Mom.”

“Dessert will be great, too,” Becca said. “Mom made apple pie especially for you. Don’t go yet. It’s not even dark outside.”

Lindsay hesitated, and glanced at Brandon, who smiled regretfully and shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t,” he said. “My parents are expecting us, and it’s a long drive. We’re going to have dessert there.” He headed for the front door. “Come on, honey. Let’s go.”

“At least let me pack you some gingerbread cookies,” Donna said, her face growing hot. She realized with alarm that she was on the verge of bursting into tears.
It’s been a nice afternoon
, she scolded herself.
Don’t ruin it with a tantrum.
She hurried into the kitchen and filled a cookie tin with gingerbread men, then filled a second for Brandon’s parents. By the time she joined the family in the foyer, Brandon had already left to carry their presents out to the car.

Donna hugged her daughter tightly. “I wish you didn’t have to go so soon.”

Lindsay clung to her, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder as she used to when she was a little girl. “I’m sorry. I want to stay.”

Suddenly Donna felt awful for making her daughter feel guilty. “It’s all right,” she said briskly, releasing Lindsay and forcing herself to smile. “I have to share you with your future in-laws. I’m sure they want to see their son as much as we want to see you.”

Wordlessly Lindsay nodded and took the cookies, then gave her father and sister quick hugs before hurrying outside to the car, her coat still unfastened.

As they drove away, Donna shut the door against the winter cold.

They returned to the family room, their spirits greatly subdued. Before long Becca excused herself to go to her room to try on her new Christmas clothes, and Paul turned on the television to watch the rest of the football game. Or perhaps it was another game. Donna didn’t know and she didn’t much care.

She retreated to her quilt room to page through the pattern books Lindsay had given her, but before long she pushed them aside and switched on the computer. She sent Christmas greetings to Megan and Grace, and hoped they were having a happier holiday than she was. After shutting down the computer, she went to her sewing machine to work on the block she had begun for the Challenge Quilt. She had chosen the Hen and Chicks pattern as a teasing reminder of how she played the mother hen to her two girls, and how she had henpecked Lindsay into returning to the university. It had been easier to poke fun at herself then, when she thought everything would be fine as long as Lindsay continued her education. Lindsay was back in school now and doing well, but Donna felt worse than ever. Brandon was charming, but there was something else beneath the charm, something that troubled her.

“Mom?”

Donna started and turned around in her chair. Becca stood in the doorway, her expression unhappy. “Yes, honey?”

“Something’s bothering me,” Becca said. “First Brandon said they didn’t want dessert, but then he said they were going to have dessert at his parents’ house.”

Donna hadn’t noticed, but even now, this seemed insignificant compared to some of his other behaviors. “I suppose when he said they didn’t want dessert, he meant that they didn’t want it here, because they were going to eat at his parents’ later.”

“I thought of that, but I wanted to know for sure.” Becca hesitated. “So I checked.”

“You checked?”

“I called their apartment.”

“Becca, you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t help it. I was worried.” She crossed the room and sat down on the floor to put her head in her mother’s lap. “They were home. Lindsay answered, but when she found out it was me, she said she couldn’t talk and hung up. Mom, there wasn’t enough time for them to do anything but go straight home.”

Donna stroked her daughter’s hair. “Maybe they stopped home to pick up something on their way.”

Becca pushed herself away from her mother. “Why are you always making excuses for him? Can’t you see what a jerk he is? He lied to us, and Lindsay turns into a little mouse around him! Am I the only one in this family with a clue?”

“Okay, honey,” Donna soothed, holding out her arms. Becca scowled at her stubbornly for a moment before allowing herself to be pulled into a hug. “I’m not as clueless as you think. I agree that Brandon …” She struggled to find the right words, but her feelings were so jumbled that she failed. “He does seem a bit domineering.”

“A bit?”

“Well, the holidays are stressful, and you know what Lindsay says about medical school. He’s under a lot of pressure. Maybe he was just having a bad day.”

“All his days are bad.”

“We don’t know that. We don’t see him every day, not the way Lindsay does. She knows him better than we do, and she wouldn’t settle for anything less than a good, kind man who treated her well, would she?”

“Maybe she’s confused,” Becca persisted. “People do stupid things when they’re in love. Remember that time in seventh grade when I called John Richardson’s house fifteen times in one day and hung up as soon as someone answered the phone?”

“I thought you said it was only those two times your father caught you on the phone.”

“That’s what I told him, but it was really more like fifteen.”

Donna laughed and hugged her. “Okay, you’re right. People do foolish things when they’re in love, but Lindsay is sensible, and agreeing to marry someone isn’t in the same league as prank phone calls.”

“They weren’t prank calls. I just got too nervous to stay on the line.”

“Either way.” Donna sighed. “Honey, maybe Brandon isn’t the man we would have picked for Lindsay, but it’s not up to us. What’s important is that Lindsay is happy. If they love each other, we’ll only ruin things if we don’t welcome him into our family.”

Becca looked her straight in the eye. “Do
you
think Lindsay is happy?”

“I hope she is,” Donna said carefully. “I can’t believe she would marry him if she didn’t believe she and Brandon would be happy together. That’s not what I taught you girls.”

“Maybe Lindsay didn’t learn as well as you think she did.”

The doubts that had nagged Donna for months now erupted in a frenzy of warning. Yes, this was what she feared, this was what she was afraid to face, that somehow she had failed to teach Lindsay something intrinsic to her future happiness. She thought back to when the girls were young, and she would overhear them swearing or discover one picking on the other. “What are you doing?” she would scold, astonished anew to discover that her angelic little girls could be vulgar or spiteful. “You didn’t learn that in this house. In this house, people are kind to each other.”

She longed to take Lindsay in her arms and ask her why she let her fiancé determine when she could visit her family and for how long, why she let him intimidate her into covering up his lie, why she hung up on her sister rather than let Brandon know they were speaking.
You didn’t learn that in this house—
but Lindsay had learned it somewhere, and Donna was at a loss, uncertain what to do about it, how to teach her daughter at this late date something she should have been learning all her life.

Suddenly grief welled up in her throat. She wished she had the words to reassure Becca, but she couldn’t even reassure herself. For months the Cross-Country Quilters had been encouraging her to trust her instincts, but her feelings were so muddled that she hadn’t known what to say. Now she realized she couldn’t let another day pass without speaking frankly to Lindsay. She knew she risked offending and possibly alienating her daughter by voicing doubts about the man she loved, but surely Lindsay would understand. Surely when Donna asked her if this is what was she truly wanted and reminded her that it was not too late to back out, Lindsay would know that she was speaking from the heart, as a mother who wanted only what was best for her child.

She picked up the phone beside the computer. “Are you calling her?” Becca asked.

Donna nodded and listened to the phone ringing, once, twice, a third time—and then, finally, her daughter’s voice. “Hello?”

“Lindsay, it’s Mom.”

“Oh.” Lindsay’s voice lowered to a whisper. “What is it?”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I’m not,” Lindsay said, and her voice returned to a normal volume, almost. “Is something wrong?”

That’s what Donna wanted to know. “Sweetheart, I need to ask you something and I want you to give me an honest answer.” She steeled herself. “Are you sure you want to go through with this marriage? Are you sure you and Brandon will be happy together?”

On the other end of the line, there was only silence.

Donna quickly added, “Because if you want to call it off, it’s not too late. We would all support you.”

Donna waited for Lindsay’s indignant reply:
How could you ask such a thing?
she might say, or
Why in the world wouldn’t I want to marry Brandon? I love him.
But Lindsay said nothing. Donna heard her breathing; if not for that, she would have thought the line had gone dead.

When Lindsay finally spoke, she said, “I can’t. I couldn’t do that to him.”

“What about you? What about what this is doing to you?”

“Mom, I can’t talk right now.”

“When can you talk about it? Let’s go out to lunch tomorrow, honey, okay? We can—”

“I have to go,” Lindsay whispered. “I’m sorry.” And with that, she hung up.

Slowly Donna replaced the receiver and met Becca’s hopeful gaze. She shook her head. Becca sighed and lay her head in her mother’s lap again. Donna stroked her hair in silence, wondering what to do.

Eventually Becca said, “Since Lindsay doesn’t seem even close to changing her mind, I guess I ought to tell you what she asked me today.”

“What’s that?”

“She wanted to know if you’ve started her wedding quilt yet.”

Donna’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh, dear.” Her own daughter’s wedding was a mere six months away, and Donna hadn’t sewn a stitch of her bridal quilt. Not only that, although she had made many others for her nieces and nephews, it had never occurred to her to make one for Lindsay and Brandon.

“I didn’t think you’d started it yet, so I thought I ought to warn you she’s hoping for one.”

“Thank you, honey.”

In response, Becca hugged her, rose, and told Donna she’d be in her room. Donna nodded absently and watched her leave. Lindsay wanted a wedding quilt made by her mother’s hands. Lindsay knew what a wedding quilt symbolized—enduring love, patience, commitment—and she would not ask for one lightly. She would not hope for one if she had any uncertainties about marrying Brandon.

Alone in her quilt room, Donna put away the pieces to the Hen and Chicks block, which now seemed inappropriately whimsical. She went to the bookshelf and took down one of her best-loved pattern books and began paging through it, searching for inspiration for the wedding quilt that she had somehow forgotten to begin, that she had not allowed herself to remember would be expected. She tried to find a pattern that would celebrate a lasting union between Lindsay and Brandon, but every block reminded her of her daughter, of Lindsay alone, the way she used to be—joyful and confident and self-assured, and not the apologetic, silent ghost of herself who had come home that Christmas day. She searched through one book, and then another, until all the books were scattered about her on the floor like wind-blown leaves, but she could find no way to stitch together the lives of her daughter and the man she had agreed to marry, no pattern beautiful, harmo-nious, and whole that had Brandon in it.