Dakota Love (21 page)

“The little one who doesn’t talk back to me.” Humor infused Rodney’s response.

Caroline imagined his brown eyes twinkling with teasing merriment.

“Yet,” Michelle added, and all the women in the small room laughed.

Caroline stood behind the door as Michelle opened it, and Angela slipped her wiggling daughter through to Rodney’s waiting arms.

“There’s Grandpa’s girl,” Rodney said in a tone an octave higher than normal. “Let’s go find Daddy.”

Brooklyn sputtered excited gurgles and coos in answer.

Happiness ensconced Caroline’s heart from all directions. Jason and Rodney had become friends as they spoiled the same little girl. It was Jason who first referred to Rodney as Grandpa.

“Time for the finishing touches.” Angela carried the quilted jacket to the bride.

Caroline slipped the ivory jacket over her satin sheath. She’d designed and sewn all the dresses for her wedding. She’d quilted a small flower pattern similar to the daisies on Rodney’s quilt back into ivory satin using gold thread. Her collarless jacket matched the dress’s knee-length hem. Hooked over center buttons, a gold chain fastened the jacket together. Michelle’s and Angela’s jackets, quilted with the same pattern, served as a blouse, with skirts from the same satin fabric as Caroline’s sheath. At her age it seemed silly for only the bride to wear white.

Jason knocked on the door before entering. “The men are in place.”

Caroline took one last look in the mirror. She smoothed her jacket and strained to see if her French twist remained intact. “Did I mess up my hair?”

Michelle adjusted a few ringlets around Caroline’s neckline and checked that the jeweled hair combs stayed secure.

“I think you’re ready.” Angela handed her a bouquet of white peace lilies.

Caroline smiled. She was definitely ready, not just for the ceremony or becoming Rodney’s wife, but for whatever lay ahead of her in life. That was why she’d chosen lilies for her wedding bouquet, her reminder not to worry but to trust God.

“Mom, you look beautiful.” Jason gingerly kissed her cheek so as not to mess up her makeup, then held out his arm.

“Thank you.” She slipped her hand through his elbow and they followed Michelle, then Angela out the door.

Caroline surveyed the sanctuary as she waited her turn to walk down the aisle. Ten-inch quilt blocks of every color with the Double Wedding Ring pattern decorated the pews where most brides placed bows. The Lily of the Field quilt draped the altar where the unity candle stood flanked by mixed flower bouquets like the one Rodney had given her the night of their first date.

The music cued her entrance, and as she and Jason took the first step, he whispered, “I love you, and I’m glad you’re happy again.”

She gripped his arm tighter and nodded, unable to speak through the tightness in her throat. She scanned the smiling faces looking her way, but when her eyes fixed on Rodney, handsome in the traditional black tux, everyone else became a blur. The tightness in her throat slipped down into a swell of love in her chest. She blinked and a warm tear imprinted a path down her cheek.

Jason squeezed both of their hands as he placed her hand in Rodney’s and took his seat beside his daughter in her infant seat. Brooklyn’s coos continued after the music stopped and through most of the ceremony.

Unlike earlier in the year, Caroline savored every precious moment of the service. She cherished each word the pastor spoke, bathed in the tenderness of Rodney’s voice as he pledged his love to her, and felt the joy conveyed on his face as she promised to love him in sickness and in health.

To Gert and Tom Stevens, a real life MS heroine and her hero. Thanks for your research help. Your friendship means the world to me.

I
don’t know. Managing a business building may be too stressful with your recent…”

Sarah Buckley watched as Karla Ward, her best friend since grade school, swallowed hard. A lump of emotion no doubt. Even though the doctor had diagnosed Sarah with multiple sclerosis almost eighteen months ago, Karla still seemed to be taking it harder than Sarah.

Had Sarah known this was where their conversation would lead, she’d have chosen a corner table in the rustic coffeehouse chain versus this table in the open area where their discussion could be overheard.

Karla stared into space and tapped her paper cup on the high-glossed wooden table. Finally, her water-filled eyes close to brimming over, she looked at Sarah. “I just mean maybe now’s not the best time to try a new career.”

Sarah sighed, her good mood now dampened like her friend’s eyes. Sarah had hoped for a little girl talk, wanting Karla’s opinion on a man she’d recently met. Sarah thought he might be interested and wanted to bounce his actions off Karla. She shouldn’t have agreed to meet Karla at the coffee shop before the evening quilting class that she’d looked forward to all day.

After two months, Sarah had a few doubts about her new career choice, but Karla’s pessimism made her determined to maintain a positive outlook on all the changes in her life.

Maybe there was still time to turn the conversation around. “No time like the present.” Sarah shook her fist in the air in a “go forth and conquer” fashion to show enthusiasm about the changes in her life and hoped it’d rub off on her friend.

Sarah earned a frown for her efforts.

“You are way too flippant about this. I think you need to go to counseling.”

“Flippant about and counseling for what?” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “You can say it, Karla. Multiple sclerosis. I have MS. Dancing around the disease’s name won’t make it go away.”

“I know that,” Karla snapped. “I just don’t know how you can be so accepting of your fate.”

“What else can I do? We have to take the good with the bad.” Sarah sipped her iced green tea. She wasn’t ecstatic about her diagnosis, either, but since there was no cure for MS she had to find a way to live with it.

“Whatever.” Karla’s eye-roll answer didn’t surprise Sarah. Her friend wasn’t as grounded in faith as Sarah, who believed that if God brought you to it, He’d get you through it. At least she believed that most days.

“I have to earn a living.” Sarah’s MS forced her to quit the job she loved as a UPS delivery person. She couldn’t tolerate going in and out of eastern South Dakota’s hot, humid summer weather. It worsened her muscle spasms.

“That’s just it, you don’t. There are government programs.”

“Stop.” Sarah held up her palm. She’d had enough. “I’m not quite forty and only in the first stages of MS. Someday I may need assistance, but right now I just need a job that doesn’t aggravate my symptoms.”

Karla opened then closed her mouth. She pursed her lips and gave her head a shake, letting Sarah know she didn’t share that opinion.

“I wish you were as excited about my new career as I am. The company I’m working for has excellent benefits. I’m in a temperature-controlled office, and I get to dress up. After wearing brown uniforms and comfortable shoes for twenty-two years, having wardrobe choices is a real treat.” Sarah smiled before taking another sip of her tea.

“Congratulations,” Karla said with a halfhearted shrug. She reached across the table and rested her hand on Sarah’s arm. “You know I’m only concerned because I care about you. Right?”

“I know.” Sarah placed her free hand over Karla’s and squeezed.

Karla’s concerned-filled eyes bored into Sarah. “I don’t know that you’re seeing the big picture with your disease. You need to take it easy.”

Sarah did see the big picture. People in all stages of MS attended the support group she’d enrolled in. Many of the people in advanced stages of MS still led very active lives, just like Sarah intended on doing. She wasn’t going to cower away in a room and watch life pass her by like Karla seemed to want her to do.

When Sarah didn’t respond, Karla added, “I do have your best interest at heart.”

I’m not so sure about that
. Since her diagnosis, the one thing she thought wouldn’t change was her friendship with Karla. Karla, usually supportive, saw only the negatives where Sarah’s MS was concerned.

Sarah cleared her throat. “I need to get going. I have to pick up supplies before my class.”

Karla released her grip. As she stood, she picked up her cup and said, “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be sewing. At least you’ll have something to fill your time when you find managing a building is too much for you with
MS
,” enunciating the last two letters as if to prove she could say them. Karla then walked over to the waste can and dropped her empty coffee cup through the center opening.

Outside the building, Karla gave Sarah a loose hug. “I’ll call you, and we can do this again.”

Maybe
, Sarah thought as she waved good-bye to her friend. Sarah needed optimism, but it was hard to maintain a positive outlook around Karla anymore. Idle minds were truly the devil’s workshop. Sarah’s own mind had hosted a few pity parties since her symptoms were diagnosed, which was the second reason she enrolled in the quilting class.

Please, Lord, change Karla’s attitude concerning my illness and help me to adjust to the new challenges in my life
. Sarah sent up a silent prayer as she walked to the other end of the strip mall that housed Granny Bea’s quilt shop.

As the door buzzer announced her arrival, Sarah looked around. The quilt store appeared unmanned. Sarah’s heart sank a little. She stepped forward and scanned the room’s corners. Surely,
he
was here. Somewhere.

“Sarah, you’re early.” Mark Sanders, the store owner, came from the back of the building, his warm smile waking the butterflies in her stomach. “I was just getting the classroom set up for Caroline. Come on back and keep me company while I test machines.”

The butterflies’ fluttering wings lifted her heart and blew away all the negative energy from her visit with Karla. Reason number one for taking a quilting class—Mark. Sarah thought she preferred tall, lean men, but this shorter, stocky man sparked her interest. He’d been so welcoming on her first visit to the store. The way his eyes lit up when he looked at her made her feel special. Something she needed right now.

Now when the blues threatened her sanity, she found a reason to visit the store. Even after the briefest conversations with Mark, she left uplifted.

“I came early because I haven’t purchased the fabric I need for my class project yet.” Sarah held out the letter Caroline Baker, the class instructor, sent out with yardage requirements for either a table runner or a wall quilt. “I intend to use this coupon.” Sarah pointed to the bottom portion of the letter that advertised 10 percent off supplies purchased at Granny Bea’s.

“Don’t worry about it.” Mark waved his hand through the air. “You can get that after class. I read Caroline’s synopsis, and she’s going over quilting terms and sewing methods tonight. She gave me strict orders to have practice fabric available, so I don’t think you’ll need the project fabric until next week.”

Mark led the way to the workroom in the back of the store.

“I’ll be just a second.” He turned to the right and went into a darkened room.

Sarah took a couple of steps past the threshold. The workroom stretched the length of the store. Three rows of folding tables roughly four feet long made up the classroom. A sewing machine sat at the ends of each table.
Mark must offer sewing classes in addition to quilting classes
.

“Have a seat.” Mark rolled a plush office chair out of the darkened room and pushed it over by the first table. He held it steady until Sarah sat down.

“Thank you.” Sarah smiled up at Mark as she took a seat.

“You’re welcome.” Mark continued to smile at Sarah for a few moments. His short light brown hair, combed straight back despite some receding on each side, accented her favorite feature—his eyes. The dark green polo shirt he wore today brought out the emerald highlights in his hazel eyes.

“You look like springtime tonight. Yellow is a good color for you.” Crinkles formed by Mark’s eyes as his smile widened.

Sarah’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you.” She’d bought the pastel crop pants set as her Easter outfit. Although it proved to be a little too summery for early April in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, she’d garnered many compliments at church, so she chose it to wear tonight because she wanted to look nice for Mark.

“You’re welcome.” Mark walked to the last plastic-topped table. He plugged a sewing machine into a power strip and pressed a button then repeated the action on the second machine.

Sarah lifted her left hand. Her fingers glided up and down the length of her dangly earrings. Shouldn’t Mark be moving the sewing machines out of the way?

“How many people signed up for the quilting class?” Sarah smiled when Mark looked up from his work.

He moved to the second table in the row. “Five. One machine is for Caroline.” Mark pressed a button and a machine lit up. When the second machine on that table didn’t respond, Mark scowled and wiggled a power cord where it attached to the machine. He flicked a switch, seemed satisfied, and then walked to the front table.

“What type of sewing machine do you have?” Mark asked as he prepped the last two sewing machines.

“Um…” Sarah felt her eyes grow wide. She hadn’t considered needing a sewing machine to make a quilt. She’d inquired about the classes to have a reason to talk to Mark. After a bout with the blues, she’d decided a hobby was a needed distraction. “I don’t have one. I thought quilts were hand stitched.”

Mark knitted his brows. “Not too many people quilt by hand these days. The first day you came into the store you purchased quite a bit of material, so I assumed you knew how to sew.”

“My church was collecting sewing kits for a mission project.” He remembered her purchase from three months ago? Of course he did. He picked up on her interest in the Job’s Tears quilt block. What did he tell her that day?
“A good shopkeeper knows his customers”
—yet he made her feel like more than a customer. Was that his intention or her hope? She wished she could have discussed this with Karla, instead of the ongoing saga of her MS.