An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler (78 page)

As she left work that afternoon, still unhappy, she decided that after Robby went to bed, she’d go online and vent her frustrations to her best friend, Donna. They had been email pals for years, ever since they had met in an internet quilting newsgroup. Whenever Megan needed to pour her heart out, Donna was there with patience and understanding, the same way Megan tried to be there for her. Often Megan wished that Donna lived nearby rather than in Minnesota, so that they could meet for lunch or go quilt-shop hopping like normal best friends. She wondered what that meant about her, that she was best friends with someone she had never actually met in person. Maybe Robby had inherited his social ineptitude from his mother.

As she pulled onto the long dirt driveway leading up to her parents’ house, Megan checked the dashboard clock. She had arrived later than usual, but probably too early to say hello to her father, who at this hour would be closing up his hardware store in town. Her parents owned nearly ten acres sandwiched between two larger family farms, and although they still cultivated most of the property, the small farm had always been more of a hobby than a career. Megan treasured childhood memories of playing hide-and-seek with her father in the cornfield, the green stalks topped with golden silk towering above her head. Soon Robby would play there with his grandfather again.

She circled in front of the house and parked beside one of the outbuildings. Her father’s two dogs bounded over to greet her as she climbed the stairs to the front porch. “Hey, Pete. Hey, Polly,” she said, petting the golden retriever first and then the German shepherd. She heard laughter inside, and found Robby with his grandmother in the kitchen.

“Mom,” Robby cried out. “Did you know when Grandma was little she had her own cow? It would come when she called it and everything, just like a dog.” His grandmother caught Megan’s eye and shook her head. Robby saw the exchange and quickly added, “It’s just a story.”

Megan’s mother laughed affectionately and ruffled Robby’s hair. “You’re my little storyteller, all right.” She hugged Megan in welcome, but then her smile faded. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing. Just some stuff at work.” It wasn’t anything she wanted to discuss in front of Robby, and she wasn’t even sure if she ought to confide in her mother. Her parents had raised her to be strong and independent, and she was ashamed to show them how meek and accepting she had become since Keith had left her. As hard as it had been for her staunchly Catholic parents to accept the breakup, it would be even more difficult for them to understand how deeply his betrayal still affected her.

But when they heard her father’s truck pull up outside and Robby ran out to meet him, Megan found herself telling her mother what had happened. Her mother continued shelling peas, nodding thoughtfully as Megan perched on a stool and rested her elbows on the counter as she spoke. It was a scene that had played out many times in that kitchen since Megan was a child, first learning the painful truth that the whole world wouldn’t cherish her the way her parents did.

“What did you do last Saturday?” her mother asked when she had finished.

“We took Robby to the county fair,” Megan said. “You were there, Mom. Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember, but I wasn’t sure if you did. We had a great time, didn’t we? Wasn’t the weather perfect? Didn’t Robby love the rides and the animals?”

Megan nodded, not sure where her mother’s reminiscence was taking them.

“Well, then, seems to me this Zoe character did you a favor.” Her mother finished the last of the peas and dusted off her hands as if brushing off both the chore and Megan’s coworker. “If you had gone to the party, you would have missed the fair. And for what? A party with too many rules to be much fun, or at least that’s how it sounds to me.”

“It’s not missing the party that bothers me,” Megan said. “It’s being excluded.”

Her mother’s face softened. “I know, dear.” She cupped Megan’s chin in her hand for a moment, then patted her cheek. “My quilt guild is meeting at Dorothy Pearson’s house tonight. Why don’t you join me? Your father can watch Robby.”

Megan squirmed. Her mother’s invitation sounded too much like her father’s offer to escort her to the homecoming dance sophomore year of high school, when none of the boys had been willing to ask her and she had been too shy to ask any of them. Her mother’s friends were sweet women, but they had known Megan since she was in diapers and had never stopped thinking of her as a little girl. “Thanks, Mom, but I have some papers to read before bed tonight. I have a grant proposal due next week.”

“At least stay for dinner.”

Megan tried to picture the contents of her pantry, wondering if she had enough energy for something as simple as pasta from a box and sauce from a jar. Then she thought of her mother’s homemade bread and baked chicken, and vegetables fresh from her parents’ garden. “We’d love to.”

When Megan and Robby returned home early in the evening, Megan knew before she leafed through the mail that Keith’s child support check would not be there. The day had gone too badly to end on such a high note.

That’s why she assumed the envelope from
Contemporary Quilting
magazine was a subscription renewal notice and didn’t bother opening it until two days later, when she paid her other bills. She would have opened it immediately if she had known that the renewal notice was in fact a letter informing her that her watercolor charm quilt had taken first prize in the magazine’s annual contest, and that she had won a week’s vacation at the famous quilting retreat, Elm Creek Manor.

“Way to go, Megan,” Donna shouted as she finished reading the email note. It was about time her best quilting buddy had some good luck come her way. They’d been friends for years, ever since they met on an internet quilting newsgroup when Megan posted a frantic request for a certain piece of fabric. Everyone at her son’s school had gone crazy over a Saturday morning cartoon called
Baby Dinosaurs
, and Megan’s son was infatuated with a character named Little Trice, a pastel triceratops who somehow managed to look adorable clad in a bib and diaper. Megan had secretly begun working on a Little Trice quilt for Robby’s birthday, but she had found only one yard of Baby Dinosaurs print fabric at her local quilt shop. She thought it would be enough, but she ran out when the quilt top was only half finished, and when she checked at the store, they told her the print had been discontinued. “All I need is a half yard more,” Megan wrote to the other quilters in the newsgroup. “I’ll swap anything for it, just name your price. Can anyone help me?”

Donna sympathized, for despite her compulsive fabric-shopping habit, she had often found herself in similar situations. She phoned all the quilt shops in her area code and finally found one that had two yards left on a remnant bolt. She drove an hour to St. Paul to buy it, then emailed Megan with the good news. A week after Donna mailed her the material, Megan sent her a box of beautiful Civil War–era reproduction fabric and a heartfelt thank-you note. Donna immediately sent her an email message to tell her how pleased she was with the surprise, and Megan wrote back to let her know how the Little Trice quilt was progressing. Their correspondence continued over the internet and through the mail, and before long, they had become confidantes. Donna knew everything about Megan’s divorce and troubles at work, and Megan knew everything about Donna’s eternal struggle with her weight and her two daughters’ nerve-wracking journey through the teen years. Although they had never actually met in person, they were so close that Donna was as happy for Megan as if she had won the
Contemporary Quilting
contest herself.

After replying with a note of congratulations, Donna shut down the computer and returned to her sewing machine. The fourth bedroom had been the girls’ playroom, but when they reached the age when they preferred to shut themselves away in their separate bedrooms, Donna had adopted it as her quilt studio. Even with the door open so she could monitor all the comings and goings in the house, she still had a sense of peaceful solitude, the perfect antidote to a hectic day.

“Mom?” Lindsay appeared in the doorway, slender and lovely in her denim shorts and pink top, her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Donna put down her quilt block and swiveled her chair around to face her elder daughter. “Sure, honey. What is it?”

Lindsay crossed the room and took her hands. “Not here. Downstairs.” Lindsay led her out of the room. “Dad’s already waiting, and Becca’s about to go to work. I want to tell you all at the same time.”

Laughing, Donna allowed herself to be guided downstairs to the family room. Paul was sitting on the sofa; Becca sat on the floor beside him, glancing at her watch and looking bored. Exchanging a quick glance of puzzlement with her husband, Donna seated herself on the opposite end of the sofa so that Becca was between them.

Only then did she notice that Lindsay was wringing her hands and compulsively shifting her weight from foot to foot. “Lindsay?” Donna said, suddenly anxious. “What is it, honey?”

“I have an announcement to make.” Lindsay took a deep breath. “Brandon and I are getting married.”

Donna couldn’t breathe. She groped for Paul’s hand and squeezed it.

Lindsay looked around at her silent family. “Well? Say something.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Becca said flatly.

Lindsay frowned at her, then looked at her parents, hopeful. “Mom? Dad?”

Breathe
, Donna ordered herself, then gasped, “I don’t know what to say.”

Lindsay smiled nervously. “‘Congratulations’ would be nice.”

“Congratulations,” Donna and Paul said in unison, in a monotone. Becca merely groaned and let her head fall back against the sofa.

“But you like Brandon,” Lindsay protested.

Donna said, “Of course we like him—”

“I don’t,” Becca said.

“—but this is a little sudden,” Paul finished. “Your mother and I weren’t expecting to hear an announcement like this so soon.”

“Brandon and I have been dating for two years.”

“I’ve had library books longer than that,” Becca said.

Donna patted Becca on the shoulder to quiet her. “Have you set a date?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted a June wedding, and Brandon will have some vacation time then—”

“June of next year?” Donna shrilled.

“I know that only gives us eleven months to plan, but we don’t want anything elaborate.”

“What about school?” Paul asked.

“Brandon says I don’t really need to finish. After medical school, he’ll earn enough to support both of us.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this,” Becca said.

Donna couldn’t believe it either. “You’re going to quit school a year before graduation?”

Lindsay hesitated. “Well, Brandon thinks maybe I shouldn’t go back this year, either. He thinks maybe—as long as it’s okay with you—we could take my tuition money and use that for the wedding instead.”

“‘Brandon thinks,’” Becca mimicked, then her jaw dropped. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“No, I am definitely not pregnant,” Lindsay snapped. She looked close to tears. “Isn’t anyone happy for me?”

Paul released Donna’s hand and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Sweetheart, don’t you think you ought to finish college before you get married? You’re only twenty.”

“That’s legal in this state, Dad.”

“Finish college first,” Donna pleaded. “There’s nothing wrong with a long engagement. If it’s meant to be, two years won’t make a difference.”

Donna saw something in Lindsay’s eyes change then, as if she were closing some part of herself away from them, and a pang of uneasiness went through her.

“It makes a difference to Brandon,” Lindsay said. “He wants us to get married now, I mean, right now. Elope. I talked him into waiting until June. That’s the best I can do.”

Donna didn’t like the sound of that, but before she could say anything, Paul spoke. “I still don’t understand why you have to give up school. If you have your heart set on getting married, we won’t stand in your way, but can’t you continue school, too? Think of everything you’ll miss. Your classes, all your friends, all the fun you girls have—”

“Yes, and the drama society,” Donna broke in. “What about the plays you were going to direct this year? You were looking forward to them. And that internship next summer. Professor Collins said you had a good chance of winning it.”

As Donna spoke, Lindsay’s cheeks flushed. “I know,” she said. “I know it’s a sacrifice, but when you love someone the way Brandon and I love each other, you make sacrifices for him.”

“What exactly is Brandon sacrificing for you?” Becca inquired.

Lindsay shot her a sharp look. “I’m leaving school because Brandon can’t afford to pay for my last two years, and he doesn’t feel right having my parents pay his wife’s tuition.” She took a deep, shaky breath and looked from Donna to Paul and back. “Please, I don’t want to fight. Please tell me you’re okay with this.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Donna asked in a small voice.

“This is what I want.”