An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler (117 page)

Finally Deneford was ready to move on. “Okay, kids, rattlesnake time,” he said to Noah, then looked around and asked, “Where’s Cameron?”

Noah shrugged. “Try the wardrobe trailer.”

“Again?” He raised his voice. “Everyone be back here in fifteen.” With murmurs of relief, the cast and most of the crew headed for their trailers. Deneford strode off toward the wardrobe trailer, the assistant director at his heels.

Julia waited until they were out of sight before hurrying off to her trailer, unwilling to let them see how they had alarmed her. So her hands looked too old for close-ups. Very well. She’d find a new pair of hands, and not those of Samantha Key, who had already taken over too many of Julia’s scenes. And she didn’t want some hand model with fantasies of becoming an actress, either. She needed someone who would be content with this small, uncredited role and wouldn’t dream of stealing Julia’s part, someone who would stand by her and believe in her despite her flaws, despite her aged hands and her mediocre quilting and her failures of the past.

She needed a friend.

Julia’s cell phone transmitted her voice with perfect clarity, but Donna still wasn’t sure she understood what her friend had said. “You want me to be a what?”

“A stunt quilter,” Julia repeated. “You’ll sit in for me during all my close-up quilting shots, although I’m afraid only your hands will be on film.”

“That’s fine,” Donna said, with a tremor of excitement mixed with stage fright. “I don’t think I’d want any more of me to show. I won’t have to speak any lines, will I?”

“No, just quilt.”

“Well, I can certainly do that.”

“Please, Donna, say yes. You’ll be paid the standard rate, and I’ll cover your travel and housing expenses personally. I’m afraid the accommodations aren’t exactly luxurious out here on location, but when we return to California—”

“You mean I’ll get to go to Hollywood?”

Julia laughed. “Sure, we can visit Hollywood if you’d like. When we’re done with the location filming, we’ll have more scenes at the studio to shoot. I’d love it if you’d stay with me in my home in Malibu until the movie’s finished.” Her voice turned wistful. “It would almost be like quilt camp again. Except for the climate, at least while we’re on location. I’m a bit embarrassed asking you to come to Kansas at this time of year.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. I wouldn’t mind some milder weather for a change.” Donna’s thoughts were racing with the possibilities. “I’ll do it under one condition. Let me bring Lindsay. Give her a job, too.”

“Your daughter?” Julia asked. “But I only need one stunt quilter.”

“That’s all right. She doesn’t quilt. But she is a drama major at the University of Minnesota, and she’s performed in and directed many plays. I know that’s not the same as movies, but she’s very bright and she’s a hard worker, and there must be something she can do.”

Julia paused. “And this would get her away from Brandon.”

“Exactly.” Distance would provide Lindsay with safety and perspective, and working on a movie would remind her of her talents, her interests.
I’m all she has, and she knows it
, Brandon had said, and those words had haunted Donna ever since. If there were any chance Lindsay truly believed that, Donna needed to prove him wrong.

“I’m sure we can find something for her,” Julia said. “We always need gofers and assistants. I’ll look into it. In the meantime, may I take the liberty of making your airline reservations?”

“As long as you reserve two seats.”

“I’ll do that,” Julia promised. “And Donna—it’ll be so good to see you again.”

After they hung up, Donna stood lost in thought for a moment. She probably should have discussed this with Paul and Becca first, but Paul would understand the urgency of seizing this opportunity, and he and Becca would get along fine without her for a while. They would be glad to if it meant helping Lindsay.

She went upstairs to Lindsay’s room, hopeful and yet anxious. Lindsay might refuse to go. Since Brandon’s visit she had lost the ground she had gained earlier in the month and spent most of her time alone in her room. Once she told them Brandon had written to her, suggesting they attend couples’ counseling. “We could sort out our problems now, so we won’t have to postpone the wedding,” she had said wistfully. Paul had overheard and had become outraged, more angry than Donna had ever seen him. She, too, could not understand how Lindsay could even consider marrying Brandon after all that had happened, and the way Lindsay clung to the hope that he would change bewildered Donna. She and Paul had begged her to break off the engagement, and Paul had even declared that he forbade her to marry him, but Lindsay still wore the engagement ring Brandon had given her the previous summer.

But now Donna had a chance to change all that. She took a deep breath, knocked on Lindsay’s door, and softly called her name. She received a muted, “Come in,” in response, and entered the room. Lindsay was lying on the bed, holding a pillow to her chest and gazing at the ceiling.

“Honey?” Donna said. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

She told her daughter about Julia’s phone call and the troubles she had been facing with the movie ever since accepting the role. At first Donna wasn’t sure her daughter was paying attention, but as she narrated the twists and turns of Julia’s misery on the set, she detected a flicker of interest in Lindsay’s eyes. Eventually Lindsay sat up and began to react to Donna’s story, by turns laughing and shaking her head in disbelief.

“What is she going to do?” Lindsay asked when Donna concluded. “Do you think she’ll lose the part?”

“That’s where we come in. Julia offered me a job. She wants me to be her stunt quilter.”

“A stunt quilter?” Lindsay laughed. “That’s wonderful! You’re going to be a star.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. Only my hands are going to be on film.” Donna bit her lip, feigning the uncertainty that was so close to the nervousness she already felt. “That’s if I take the job.”

“If? Why wouldn’t you want to? It sounds like so much fun.”

“I don’t know.” Donna shrugged. “It would be hard to be away from the family for so long.”

“I think we can manage, Mom.”

“It’s not that. I’ll get lonely. So I told Julia I’d only take the part if you came with me.”

Lindsay started. “Why did you tell her that?”

“Because I want you to be there.” Donna sat down on the edge of Lindsay’s bed and took her hand. “When I told her you were available, she asked if you would come work on the set, too. You’d be an intern, or an assistant, something like that. You’d get to work behind the scenes of a real movie. Just think of what a great experience this would be.”

Lindsay looked tired. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t think I can.” She lay down again and closed her eyes.

“A year ago you would have done it.”

“A year ago.” Lindsay’s voice was faint. “A year ago I was a different person.”

Watching her, a spark of resolve kindled in Donna’s heart. “Come here.” She stood up and, still holding Lindsay’s hand, pulled her to her feet. “I want to show you something.”

She led Lindsay to the quilt room, where she opened her closet and brought out a pile of quilt blocks, all different patterns, some traditional, some of her own invention. Each had spoken to her heart as she assembled it, whispering messages of hope and faith and encouragement she alone understood.

“I tried to make you a wedding quilt,” Donna said as she spread out the blocks on the table. “I couldn’t do it. When I thought of you and Brandon together, not a single pattern came to my mind. But when I thought of you, Lindsay, just you, the ideas kept coming, one after another. The quilt blocks just spilled out of me.” She picked up one, an appliqué block of the traditional symbol of the theater, the masks of comedy and tragedy. “I made this one first, and then this”—she picked up a second block—“to accompany it. The names of all the plays you’ve ever worked on are embroidered on it.”

She handed the blocks to her daughter, who traced the outline of the masks with a finger. “This one I made from your high school basketball uniform,” she continued, holding up a Weathervane block. “Do you remember? You were a guard, and in your senior year your teammates chose you as captain.”

“I was only second string.”

“Yes, and they chose you anyway, even though you weren’t the best player, because of who you are. Because of your character and your kindness. Because of what you contributed to that team when you encouraged the other girls to do their best.”

Donna passed her another block, a photo transfer made of a snapshot from Lindsay’s first day of kindergarten. “Remember this?”

Lindsay let out a small laugh and bit her lip.

“I was so proud of you that day,” Donna said. “I hated to see my baby grow up, but I loved your confidence. Remember when that other little girl at the bus stop wouldn’t stop crying because she was scared to go to school? You held her hand and promised you would be her friend, and you would sit with her on the bus and play with her every day.”

“Her name was Molly.”

“That’s right. I had forgotten.” Donna held up a blue-and-white LeMoyne Star block. “Do you recognize these fabrics?”

Lindsay touched it. “The blue—it’s from my prom dress.”

“And the white is from the hem of your graduation gown. This one—I call it the Golden Gopher block. Remember that T-shirt you wore constantly your freshman year?”

Lindsay smiled and nodded, tears shining in her eyes. “I washed it so much that it shrank to half its size. I thought you threw it out.”

“I saved it.” She had saved it, and two years later cut out the emblem and appliquéd it onto a quilt block so Lindsay could keep it forever. Donna waved her hand over the table and watched as Lindsay took in all the blocks, all the patchwork memories Donna had created to celebrate her life. “Look at all you’ve accomplished,” she implored. “Think of all the people who care about you and have always cared about you. You are a wonderful, talented, beautiful, and loving young woman, Lindsay. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be cherished.” She reached out and brushed away her daughter’s tears, then cupped Lindsay’s cheek in her hand. “Please don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise.”

Lindsay threw her arms around her mother and wept. Donna patted her on the back and murmured to her soothingly. Lindsay cried until she cried herself out, then she pulled away, brushed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand—and then, slowly but with resolve, she removed the engagement ring.

She placed it on the table with the quilt blocks. The she turned to her mother, who embraced her and held her tightly, as if she could pass strength from her arms to her daughter’s heart, so that Lindsay would forever be protected by her love.

Eleven

W
inter gave way to the first signs of spring, and on the Kansas set of
Prairie Vengeance
, Lindsay blossomed. She started out as the assistant to an assistant, but before long she had proven herself to be capable and smart. She was promoted once, and then again, until she was named a production assistant. Even Deneford took notice of her, after some subtle hints from Julia, and he told Lindsay if she wanted work during the summer, he could get her an internship at the studio.

For her part, Donna didn’t see herself becoming a professional stunt quilter anytime soon, but she enjoyed working with the other extras and seeing what went on behind the scenes. Deneford’s behavior quickly confirmed that Julia had not exaggerated in her stories about him. It heartened Donna to see Lindsay stand up to his blustering and moving confidently about the set as if she had been the production assistant for dozens of films.

Before leaving for Kansas, Lindsay had phoned Brandon to break off the engagement. Paul later reported that Brandon showed up as scheduled to pick up the ring, but when he learned Lindsay wasn’t there, he refused to take it. “Why should I,” he told Paul, “when I’ll be giving it back when she changes her mind?” Back then Lindsay had been distressed by his refusal to accept her decision, but by the time the cast and crew were closing down the Kansas set, her determination had strengthened. While Donna and Julia flew to California, Lindsay went home to Minnesota. She arranged to meet Brandon at a restaurant adjacent to campus, one popular with professors and students from the medical school. There she handed him the ring and told him in no uncertain terms that they were finished. Since they were in a public place, and Brandon was intelligent enough to realize what losing his temper in front of his colleagues could mean to his career, he contented himself with shoving the ring in his pocket and snapping, “Fine. You were never good enough for me, anyway.” Lindsay merely stood up, went to her car, and drove home to visit her father and sister before catching a plane to LAX.

Julia, Donna, and Lindsay spent the days working on the set; in the evening they relaxed by the pool or saw the sights of southern California. Some nights Julia and Donna would work on their blocks for the Challenge Quilt. They spoke fondly of their friends from camp and looked forward to the day they would meet again at Elm Creek Manor.