An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler (25 page)

Somehow I managed to sleep that night, but I woke the next morning with an uneasy knot in the pit of my stomach. I shook James awake. “Something’s wrong,” I whispered, my voice an anxious hiss between my teeth.

We hurried into our clothes and downstairs, where Claudia was bustling about the kitchen, humming cheerfully as she helped Cook prepare breakfast. Richard was an early riser, and by all rights he should have been there before us, charming Cook out of a scarce pastry made with carefully conserved sugar rations. Claudia’s bright smile faded when she saw our faces.

A quick search of the manor and the grounds established that Richard and his suitcase were gone. He wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye, I was certain, or at least without leaving a note. The house was in an uproar, with James at the center trying to calm the storm. My thoughts were in a whirl, when suddenly I remembered the playhouse.

I ran as fast as I could to the dilapidated old structure near the stables. The door had long since fallen from its hinges, and I ducked past it, my eyes searching the musty room.

Then I spotted it—a folded edge of paper sticking out from beneath a rusted coffee tin in the middle of the floor, where Richard had known I would find it right away. I unfolded the paper with shaking hands.

“Dear Sylvia,” he had written. “I’m sorry to go off like this, but I know you’ll forgive me. I figured you’d find this note soon, but not soon enough to stop me. Andrew and I have been thinking, and what Claudia said tonight clinches it. We’re going to enlist, and whip those Germans until they know they’re licked. No one is going to say Bergstroms are chicken, or question our loyalties, not as long as I can do something to prove otherwise. Remember what I asked you to promise me. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

I fled back to the manor clutching the note to my heart. The others had not even noticed my absence, and they broke off their argument when I rushed in. I held out the paper and sank into a chair. James hurried over and held my hand as he read the note, grimfaced.

He crumpled it in a fist. “I’ll get Harold and we’ll catch the next train to Philadelphia.”

“How do you even know he’s heading for Philadelphia? He could enlist here just as easily.”

“That’s where Andrew is, and from the sound of Richard’s note, they’re signing up together.” His voice was calm for everyone else’s benefit, but his eyes told me the truth. He didn’t know if Richard had returned to Philadelphia, but it seemed a reasonable conclusion. For all our sakes, it had to be the correct one.

“James, if anything happens to him—”

James gripped my shoulders with both hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” He kissed me, quickly, then hurried off to pack his bag.

He and Harold wired us two days later with dreadful news.

They had found Richard at school, packing his things. He and Andrew had already enlisted in the army and were to report in less than two weeks. With the Chevaliers’ reluctant blessing, Richard and Agnes had married. They would be bringing her back to Elm Creek Manor on the next train.

When they finally returned, James and Harold looked resigned, the Puzzle was tearful, and Richard could barely contain his excitement. I hugged him so hard he had to gasp for breath. “What have you done?” I cried, not expecting or receiving an answer.

That night, when James and I were alone, he took me in his arms. His face wore the strangest expression—regret, love, concern, I don’t know. I assumed he thought I was angry, or thought he had failed.

“James, I know you did the best you could,” I said, trying to comfort him. “I know you tried to stop him. It’s in God’s hands now.”

“Sylvia, I’m going, too.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“It was the only way. Sylvia, it was the only way. He had already joined up, and if I signed up right away, we would be placed in the same unit. Harold signed up, too, although I’m not sure why. It was clear he didn’t want to.”

“My God.” I pressed a hand to my lips and sank down upon the bed. The room spun about me.

“I’ll look after him. I promise you that. I promise we’ll all come home safe to you. Sylvia, you have my word. I’ll always come home to you.”

What could I say to him then? What more could he say to me?

The next morning we learned that Harold had asked Claudia to marry him and that she had accepted. I tried to be happy for her sake.

After the shortest week of my life, James, Richard, and Harold left us. Around the same time I realized I was pregnant, they were sent to the Pacific to fight the Japanese.

The parade had ended, and revelers filled the square as a jazz quartet began to play in the concert shell. Mrs. Compson, Sarah, and Matt listened without speaking for a time.

Then Mrs. Compson rose. “I think I’d like to see that quilt show now, wouldn’t you?” Her smile was forced. “Perhaps I’ve taken a ribbon or two.”

Sarah nodded, and Matt attempted a smile. They walked along the parade route toward the campus.

Twenty-One

T
wo women at the library entrance took their admission fees and offered them programs. Sarah was disappointed to learn they had arrived too late to vote for the Viewers’ Choice award.

“Come on, you two,” Mrs. Compson urged them. “You’ll miss everything if you poke around like that all day.”

The library concourse was full of enthusiastic quilt lovers of all ages, and the stands Sarah had helped assemble were now displaying the quilters’ handiwork. They viewed each quilt in turn, reading the program for the artists’ names and thoughts on their work. Guild members wearing white gloves mingled through the crowd, ready to turn over an edge so a quilt’s backing could be examined.

Mrs. Compson knew so much about block patterns, design elements, and construction techniques that Sarah and Matt felt as if they were enjoying a museum tour with an expert guide. Often Sarah noticed that other spectators were listening in on Mrs. Compson’s analyses of the pieces, nodding occasionally in agreement.

Sarah was pleased to find that even with a beginner’s eye she could study an unfamiliar block and figure out how the quilt had been constructed. She was able to see how subtle variations in color and contrast made a traditional quilt sparkle, and how other quilts used the traditional as a starting point for devising something truly innovative. Soon the show became a dizzying and enthralling display of color and pattern, inspiring in that she saw so many possibilities, and humbling in that her own handful of simple pieced blocks couldn’t begin to compare.

“I’ll never be able to make a quilt like this,” she said, gazing at a particularly stunning Dresden Plate variation whose wheel-shaped blocks had pieced “spokes” intensifying in hue as they radiated outward. A pieced border resembling a twisted ribbon spiraled along the outside edges. The quilting stitches were too tiny to be believed.

“You shouldn’t make a quilt like this. You should make your own quilt,” Mrs. Compson chided.

“What I meant was I’ll never make a quilt as good as this one.”

“Not with that attitude you won’t,” Matt said, grinning.

“My thoughts exactly.” Mrs. Compson gave Sarah a pointed look. “This particular quilter has been working on her skills since before you left high school. If you’ve already decided you’ll never make a quilt so fine, then you never will, and my lessons will be wasted on you. If, however, you’re willing to stick to it and keep in mind that few if any first quilts are as lovely as this one, well, then, perhaps there’s still hope for you.” She turned and moved on to the next quilt.

“See? Just like I’ve been telling you all along: think positive,” Matt said over his shoulder as he followed her.

Sarah sighed and went after them.

The Tangled Web Quilters had done well. Bonnie’s blue-and-gold Celtic knotwork quilt had taken first place in the appliqué/large bed quilt division, and Judy’s log cabin variation had also won a blue ribbon in the pieced/small bed quilt category. Together Gwen and Summer had claimed a second place in the innovative division for a family tree quilt that blended piecing, appliqué, and photo transfer techniques. When Sarah came across Diane’s floral appliqué wall hanging, she was delighted to see a third-place ribbon hanging by its side. Sarah admired Diane’s first ribbon and promised herself that next year she would enter a quilt, too.

Matt, eager to see how Mrs. Compson’s entry had fared, went on ahead to find it.

“Mrs. Compson, do you think I’ll be able to finish my quilt in time for my anniversary?” Sarah asked as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Well, that depends. When is it?”

“August fifth. I’d like to have my quilt done by then so I can give it to Matt for a present. It’ll be our first anniversary spent in Waterford, so I want to give him something special. What could be more special than my first quilt? I’d like to use a garden maze setting, too, and maybe a pieced border.”

Mrs. Compson held up her hands, chuckling. “Slow down. You still have a few blocks to go. August fifth, hmm? Even if I help you with the quilting, that might be pushing things a bit.” She thought for a moment. “Perhaps it’s time to teach you how to machine piece. I suppose I could let you use my sewing machine.”

“Really?”

“If you promise to be careful.”

“Of course I’ll be careful.” They rounded the corner and found Matt standing in front of Mrs. Compson’s quilt, grinning from ear to ear. “But don’t say anything to Matt. I want the quilt to be a surprise.”

Mrs. Compson nodded and wove her way through the onlookers to see her quilt, with Sarah following close behind. She recognized the blue, purple, green, and ivory eight-pointed star quilt immediately. It was the same one she had seen on the sofa the first time she’d visited Elm Creek Manor.

Beside the quilt hung a blue ribbon for first place in the pieced/large bed quilt category, a purple Judge’s Choice ribbon, another purple ribbon for Best Hand Quilting, and a gold ribbon for Best of Show.

“You won more ribbons than anyone else here,” Sarah exclaimed.

Mrs. Compson bent forward to examine the ribbons herself. “Hmph. No Viewers’ Choice?” Her voice sounded amused, but Sarah detected how pleased she was.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Compson.” Matt tipped his baseball cap in her direction.

“Why thank you, Matthew.” Other viewers who had overheard offered their congratulations, which she graciously accepted.

“Sarah?” someone called out.

Sarah spun around and caught a glimpse of red hair in the throng of people behind them. “Oh, hi, you guys. I was hoping I’d run into you. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She beckoned to Mrs. Compson, and they made their way back through the crowd. “Gwen, Bonnie, and Summer, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Compson. Mrs. Compson, this is Gwen, Bonnie, and Summer, a few of the Tangled Web Quilters.”

“We’ve met,” Bonnie said.

Mrs. Compson nodded pleasantly to the others, then turned to Gwen. “Professor, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m looking forward to meeting your students next week.”

“And they’re looking forward to meeting you, too. They’ll be impressed when they hear about this.” Gwen indicated Mrs. Compson’s awards.

“Ooh, how did you do?” Summer asked, stepping through the crowd for a closer look. Mrs. Compson went with her, responding to Summer’s stream of eager questions as rapidly as they came.

Gwen caught Bonnie by the elbow before she could follow. “Where’s Mrs. Emberly?” she whispered, looking around anxiously.

“She left earlier, with Judy and Emily.” Bonnie turned to Sarah. “Judy raised a stink when they told her she couldn’t bring Emily’s stroller in here. Diane would’ve been proud.”

Gwen released Bonnie’s arm. “Thank goodness. That was a narrow miss.”

Sarah’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

Gwen and Bonnie exchanged a look. “Mrs. Compson and Mrs. Emberly don’t exactly—” Bonnie hesitated. “Well, you know Mrs. Emberly said they had a falling out, but it’s worse than that. It would be very awkward if they happened to run into each other here.”

“Rumor has it they’ve been feuding for more than fifty years,” Gwen added. “They could just ignore each other while they weren’t living in the same town, but it’s been more difficult ever since Mrs. Compson returned to Waterford.”

Sarah thought back. “Was Mrs. Emberly one of the people who kicked Mrs. Compson out of the Waterford Quilting Guild?”

Gwen’s eyes widened and she exchanged a surprised look with Bonnie. “She got kicked out? That’s news to me. We never even knew she had been a member.”

“That’s not it, though,” Bonnie said. “It’s a family quarrel. Mrs. Emberly and Mrs. Compson are sisters-in-law.”

Sisters-in-law? “Oh, my God. Mrs. Emberly is the Puzzle.”

“The what?”

“Nothing—I mean, her first name is Agnes, right? She married Mrs. Compson’s brother, Richard?”

Gwen nodded. “That’s right.”

“Those two.” Bonnie shook her head in exasperation. “It’s such a shame, what with most of the family gone. Honestly—to have to dodge your own sister-in-law at a quilt show, rather than speak to her.”

“Maybe we should stop running interference for them,” Gwen mused. “Maybe if they’re forced to speak to each other they’ll achieve some sort of reconciliation.”