Sister's Choice (7 page)

When dinner was cleared away and the dishes done, Grandma sat at the kitchen table and asked Maggie to join her.

“Shall we talk a bit about your request to learn to sew?” Grandma asked.

“What do you mean?” Maggie was suspicious. Now the questions would come.

“I just want to get an idea of what you want to learn, of where you’d like to start.”

“From the beginning, I guess.”

“I don’t think we have to go that far back, do you?”

Maggie glanced over at her mother seated in her rocking chair by the hearth, a sewing project in her hands, her concentration on her work. She didn’t appear to be listening to the conversation at the table.

“Mama has tried hard to teach me,” Maggie said, just in case her mother
was
listening. “I probably know the basics, but I never paid close attention.”

“Who’s to say you will pay attention now?”

“Ellie said I would because I am more motivated.”

“That is a good start. It will certainly make a difference. May I ask why you are more motivated now than you were before?”

That, of course, was the very question Maggie didn’t want to answer. But maybe she should be honest, get it all out in the open. It was still no less embarrassing. Perhaps a version of the truth would suffice.

“I am all grown-up, Grandma. I am going to have a home and family soon. It is just time I learned, don’t you think?”

Grandma smiled, a small smile, more a twitch at the corners of her mouth. It was as if she was restraining a big grin so Maggie wouldn’t feel silly.

“Would you like to make clothing, or knit—”

“I want to make a quilt,” Maggie replied emphatically. “Not some simple nine-patch, either, but something spectacular. A Feathered Star or Mariner’s Compass or Rose of Sharon.”

“Eventually, yes.”

“I need to make it now, before you leave!”

Maggie heard a noise by the hearth, and her head jerked in that direction. Mama was looking at her. She
had
been listening. But she quickly glanced away, and Maggie chose to ignore the moment, as well.

Now Grandma made no pretense of a smile, instead letting one bend her lips unrestrained, showing the gold tooth she had in front. “There is one thing a teacher loves, and that’s an enthusiastic student!”

Ellie strolled over to the table. “My first quilt was a four-patch.”

“You were five,” Maggie said.

“No matter a person’s age,” Grandma said, “you simply can’t get ahead of yourself, Maggie. If you bite off more than you can chew, you could become discouraged and give up.”

“I won’t give up, Grandma.” Maggie’s tone was full of solemn determination. She was grateful Grandma didn’t smile this time but took her words seriously.

“Why don’t we take a look at some of your previous work?” Grandma suggested. “Then I can get an idea of where you are in your skills.”

“I don’t know if I can find anything right off,” Maggie hedged. In truth, she didn’t know where any of her unfinished projects were, and she certainly had no
finished
things to show. Usually she would start something, then get frustrated or bored and toss it aside, eventually losing track of the thing.

Mama quietly rose from her chair and went to the chest in a corner of the front room where she kept special things. Her wedding gown was in that chest, each of her children’s christening gowns, a few photographs, and a couple of quilts that had been passed to her from her grandmother. She lifted out a fabric-covered box and carried it over to the table. Opening the lid she took out some items Maggie recognized.

“Those are mine?” Maggie half questioned, though she knew the answer.

“I kept everything,” Mama said.

Maggie was amazed that when she had thoughtlessly cast something aside, her mother had found it, rescued it, and stored it away. Mama proceeded to spread out several quilt blocks that were in various stages of completion. A nine-patch, with only eight patches; a Log Cabin with several logs missing; a Bird in the Air block that Maggie must have tackled when she felt unusually confident because it is a tricky pattern of triangles. She had only done a couple, and those were crooked and puckered. There was half a doll quilt of which Maggie had only completed four patches. She hadn’t even been able to finish something as simple as that.

When Mama had emptied the box, Maggie saw that the things were not just from when she was young. One block, a Churn dash, had been started about a year ago. Not only was the sewing bad in this, but the cut pieces were skewed, throwing off the entire block.

“Oh, Mama,” lamented Maggie, “please put them away! I’m so embarrassed!”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, dear,” Mama said. “Anyway, you are among family. No one is going to judge you.”

Maggie couldn’t resist a quick glance at Ellie.

“I won’t judge you,” Ellie said earnestly.

“It is still embarrassing.” She glanced again at the pile of lopsided, catawampus, puckered attempts at stitchery. Even she knew she could have done at least a little better, especially on that most recent piece. She just hadn’t cared to. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I?” she asked, even though she knew what they would answer. Maybe she was looking for an escape. Maybe she wasn’t as motivated as she thought. Yet when an image of Colby leaped into her mind, her resolve strengthened. She just had to win him.

Gritting her teeth, she added, “Okay, where do we start?”

“It is a bit late to start tonight,” Grandma said.

“Oh, I can do it. I’m wide awake,” insisted Maggie.

“But your grandmother has been traveling all day,” Mama said.

“We need to be fresh for this,” added Grandma. “We will start in the morning after breakfast.”

They didn’t start right after breakfast the next day, for all the morning chores had to be done first, but finally Grandma called Maggie to the table. Maggie had thought she would dread this moment but was surprised to realize she had actually been anticipating it.

Grandma’s sewing basket, which she always brought with her when she visited, sat on the table. She also brought a box of scraps that she could trade with Mama.

“I wish I had known we were going to do this,” Grandma said, “because there are a few other things I would have packed, but we will make do. Come and sit down, Maggie.”

As Maggie took a chair, Ellie wandered over to the table. Maggie glanced in her direction.

“Ellie,” Grandma said, “I know you are interested in this, but you won’t mind if Maggie and I do this alone, will you? It might make Maggie nervous to have someone looking on.”

“I guess not,” Ellie replied.

“We will do something together, you and I, later.”

Mama called Ellie into the kitchen to help with the laundry, which had been put off on Monday because of Grandma’s arrival.

Grandma turned to Maggie. “Now, this is the template we will work with.” She picked up a cardboard piece, about four inches square, that she had taken from Mama’s pattern box. “We are going to start with a nine-patch—”

“But, Grandma—”

“Now, Maggie, if this is going to succeed, you must promise you won’t argue with every instruction I give—”

“But—”

“What do you say, dear?” Her tone was gentle but firm. Of course Grandma knew Maggie’s propensity for debate and was trying to nip that in the bud.

“Okay,” Maggie said, trying not to pout. She was an adult and must act like it if her grandmother was going to take her seriously.

“You may think a nine-patch is simplistic,” Grandma went on. “But I have seen many quilts made with only the nine-patch that are stunning because of the placement of light and dark fabrics. The same is true of the Log Cabin block.”

Maggie’s brow creased, but she tried hard not to protest. However, she knew a nine-patch would not impress Mrs. Stoddard.

“Don’t worry,” Grandma assured, almost as if she had read Maggie’s thoughts. “We will only do one nine-patch. That will be the first block in the sampler we will make. Each block will teach you a new skill and will be progressively more difficult.”

“Can I pick the fabrics? I mean, the colors that I like?”

“Of course. What would you pick?”

“Red, mostly, but also green—but I don’t want it to look like Christmas. Maybe blue—but not so it looks like a Fourth of July bunting.”

“You could have different colors in each block but with some red in all to unify it. Let’s take a look in the scrap box to see what we have.”

They brought over both Mama’s and Grandma’s scrap boxes. There weren’t many scraps of red in them, much to Maggie’s disappointment, but she was able to pull out several other colors that were plentiful enough and that she would like to use in the nine-patch. Much to her surprise many of these were browns and golds. She hadn’t thought of using these with red but found she liked the combination very much. As she and Grandma were spreading the pieces of fabric on the table and checking them against the template to make sure they would fit, Mama went to her sewing cupboard. Maggie’s jaw nearly dropped when she brought over a length of red calico material.

“I bought this a while ago,” Mama said. “I thought I might use it but just haven’t gotten around to it. If you like it . . .”

“Like it? It’s perfect!” Maggie exclaimed, almost, but not quite, speechless about her mother’s offering. It was a Turkey red cloth with tiny gold and brown flowers on it. “This accents the colors I’ve chosen perfectly.”

“That is exactly the best way to choose colors for a quilt,” Grandma said. “Use one fabric you love and draw your color palette from it.”

“Palette? Like an artist uses?” Maggie asked.

“Exactly. I have seen many quilts that are truly pieces of art.”

“Zack has said just that,” interjected Ellie, “when he saw some quilts. He compared them to works by famous artists like Leonardo da Vinci.”

For a fleeting moment Maggie thought of creating a masterpiece like one she remembered Grandma had done of appliquéd vines and leaves and flowers surrounding a medallion of a large basket of flowers. Or like either of the wedding quilts Mama had made for her and Ellie. But she forced herself back to reality. If she could just
finish
a quilt and have it halfway presentable, it would be a great accomplishment for her. That would have to be enough to impress Emma Jean Stoddard.

“Mama,” Maggie said, remembering herself, “thank you so much for the fabric. I hope I don’t mangle it up too much.”

“You will make a beautiful quilt, Maggie. I know it.”

Mama looked a lot more confident than Maggie felt.

SIX

Maggie tried to hurry through her sewing lesson the next morning so she could finish her chores before Evan arrived. But her grandmother scolded her and questioned her dedication, especially after she’d had to rip out her nine-patch three times.

“I know you can do better, Maggie,” Grandma said, her patience stretched nearly to its limit. “I thought you
wanted
to do better. I’ll let this work pass if you are satisfied with it.”

But Maggie knew this was mock leniency and that her grandmother expected her to reject the work. She looked at the puckered, crooked stitches and sighed. Her chances with Colby were slimmer than ever, so her stitching might be all that stood between her and happiness. With resignation she picked out the stitches.

“Follow the line we drew on the square,” Grandma reminded Maggie.

“You have been in a hurry all morning,” Mama put in. “Are you going someplace?”

Maggie had purposely not said anything about Evan’s visit because she wasn’t certain how her mother would respond. Mama had never had a problem with Mabel Parker or even with Mr. Parker, but then, Maggie and Ellie had never been close to Mabel, and Dad was not a close friend of Nathan Parker. Therefore, little socializing had taken place between the families. But more than that, Maggie didn’t want to answer any questions Evan’s visit might raise. Nevertheless, she probably should say something before her silence was perceived as suspicious.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Maggie said as casually as she could. “Evan Parker is stopping by later. I wanted to talk to him about Tommy’s legal case.”

Mama set down the dish she was drying and picked up another. “Why would you want to do that?” There was a slight edge to her tone.

“Well, I think it could be handled better. Do you know his lawyer from Portland hasn’t even come to see him yet?” As Maggie spoke, she realized this visit with Evan was a good idea for more than one reason. Maybe he really could help Tommy.

“Do you think that is your place?” Mama asked, but it wasn’t really a question. “Isn’t it Mrs. Donnelly’s concern?”

“I thought it would be best to talk to Evan first. If he can’t help, then it won’t raise Mrs. Donnelly’s hopes.”

“Well, I guess if you have already invited Evan, it can’t be helped. But just remember, Maggie, Tommy may be your friend, but it would not be appropriate for you to get too involved in these matters.”

“Ouch!” Maggie had been trying to talk while she sewed and now stabbed her finger with the needle. “This is hopeless!” she grumbled, tossing the nine-patch onto the table.

Grandma picked it up, turned it over, and examined it. “This is actually very nice, Maggie,” she said of the new stitches. “Don’t give up so easily.”

Appreciating the encouragement, Maggie took the item back in hand and looked at the seam she’d just sewed. It did look rather good with straight, even stitches. She only had seven more patches to go to finish the block! At this rate she and Evan could say good-bye to happiness with the mate of their dreams. They would probably be stuck with each other. But she was making progress, so maybe there was some hope yet.

Maggie laid the next patch against the ones she had just finished to make a row. She knotted her thread and, with intently pursed lips, began sewing again. In the background Mama was putting away the breakfast dishes and humming a little tune. Grandma was working on her own sewing, a six-inch patch consisting of a curved piece in blue, topped by a muslin piece. It was a pattern she called Drunkard’s Path. Maggie could hear a dog barking outside. She thought Gypsy had gone with Dad to the potato field. Normally, she would rather be outside playing with the dog or following some other more active pursuit. Today was Ellie’s turn to help Dad. They were giving Maggie some leeway for her sewing lesson, which only proved where Mama’s priority was and how much influence she wielded in the family. Maggie would have to help Dad later, though.