The Aloha Quilt (11 page)

“Midori’s going philosophical on us again,” remarked one of the seated ladies.

“Oh, hush, and show us your quilt,” retorted Midori cheerfully. As the woman obliged,
holding up the hoop and spreading open the folds of fabric and batting, Midori lifted
the edge so Bonnie could see it better. “
Leis
can take several forms. This one is called a border
lei
. It’s part of the edge of the quilt, so that the inner edge echoes the center design
but the outer edges are solid. June’s quilt—could you show us, June?” Another woman
in the circle rose and held her quilt wide, her arms outspread. “June’s
lei
is what we call a full
lei
, because it stands apart, separate from the center as well as the outer edges of
the quilt.”

“There’s a third kind,” said June, sitting back down and readjusting her hoop on her
lap. “The attached
lei
. It’s a border
lei
with branches connecting it to the center design.” She raised her voice so that it
carried throughout the room. “Does anyone have an attached
lei
she could show our guest?”

A woman at another table called them over to see the appliqué she had finished cutting
out only moments before. At first, Bonnie couldn’t quite picture how it differed from
a border
lei
, but then the woman spread her white background fabric upon a table and asked Midori
and Bonnie to help her place the intricately cut appliqué upon it. The contrast between
scarlet appliqué and yellow background helped Bonnie see how the border,
lei,
and center were all of a single piece.

“A bit overwhelming, is it?” Midori asked as Bonnie stepped
back to take in one beautiful quilt after another, all in different stages of completion,
each rich with symbolism and meaning she never would have imagined.

“Overwhelming but wonderful,” said Bonnie.

Midori allowed the faintest of smiles. “Then I suppose I haven’t discouraged you from
attempting one of your own?”

“Was that your intention?”

“No, not really, though I did want to see if you were serious.”

“I am.” Bonnie was a bit nervous, a bit uncertain about her design skills, but very
serious, and more determined than ever to make the attempt. If she tried and failed,
so be it. All the same, she would treasure her quilt as a learning experience and
a souvenir of her stay in Maui.

Midori joined one of the clusters of women and left Bonnie to wander the room, observing
the Laulima Quilters, admiring their patterns and fine needlework, and occasionally
helping with basting or adjusting a quilt in a hoop. They offered her so much good
advice that she despaired of remembering everything, but her heart lifted when one
of the quilters sensed her distress and assured her that she should feel free to ask
any of them for advice any time.

She had not thought she would have the opportunity, but if Midori didn’t consider
it an intrusion, she would be delighted to return to the circle of quilters the next
time they met—and every time thereafter for the duration of her visit.

At the end of the evening, she and Midori walked back to the hotel, chatting about
the beautiful quilts they had seen, which ones Bonnie particularly admired, and what
she had learned. “I can’t pick just any old pattern and dive in,” said Bonnie, noting
the most important of all the evening’s lessons. “It must be meaningful as well as
beautiful.”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” said Midori as they
climbed the front steps of the Hale Kapa Kuiki. “Perhaps inspiration will come to
you in your dreams.”

They parted after agreeing that Bonnie would help Midori change linens as she made
up the guest rooms after checkout the next day. Bonnie would still have plenty of
time for her own work, and if she helped Midori finish her tasks early, perhaps they
could squeeze in a quilt lesson.

Bonnie hurried upstairs, hoping to catch the last of the sunset from her lanai. When
she entered her room, she discovered a surprise set out for her on the nightstand:
a plate of two chocolate chip cookies, a small bottle of milk on ice, and a note.

“A little treat to help bring sweet dreams,” Claire had written. “I know the months
ahead will be challenging, but you won’t have to face them alone. Whatever happens,
whatever you discover, I’m here for you.”

After brooding over the divorce for months, Bonnie had, for a few blissful hours among
Midori’s friends, forgotten it entirely. Now, somehow, the reminder did not bring
her pain, but rather a sad acceptance. Whatever happened would happen. She would retain
her solid center and stretch forth her branches in love for friends like Claire who
would support her in the times to come.

She watched the fading light over the Pacific, dunking the crisp cookies in cold milk,
savoring the sweetness, her thoughts a gently shifting kaleidoscope of pattern and
color.

Chapter Five
 

When Bonnie came down for breakfast the next morning after her walk and shower, she
found Claire seated at the center island sipping coffee and sorting paperwork while
Midori sliced bananas. Bonnie helped Midori serve breakfast to their guests—only ten
that week, which couldn’t be good for the inn’s bottom line—and spent the rest of
the morning conferring with Claire in her office. After checkout time, Bonnie met
Midori in the laundry room and together they carried baskets of fresh linens to the
vacated rooms. Claire intended to hire a housekeeper as soon as they regularly filled
enough rooms to justify the expense, but until then, she and Midori, and now Bonnie,
would clean everything themselves.

Each room boasted at least one beautiful Hawaiian quilt, each with evocative images
reflecting the islands’ natural beauties—Plumeria, Lehua, Ocean Palm—or Hawaiian history.
Within the grandest guest suite was a stunning quilt Midori called Crowns and Kahili,
impressive not only for its vivid color scheme, yellow appliqué on red, but also for
the bold power of its design. Radial symmetric, four leafy fans
lay on the horizontal and vertical axes, while four tall, faceted crowns reached out
on the diagonals. “The crowns honor our Hawaiian kings and queens,” said Midori. “The
kahili
are feather standards displayed in throne rooms and carried in royal processions.”

There was a note of pride in her voice that Bonnie had not heard before, even when
Midori had spoken of other lovely quilts she had made. “This quilt is one of yours,
isn’t it?” she asked.

“I made the quilt,” Midori explained. “My nephew designed the pattern.”

Bonnie searched her memory. “The nephew who was in the service with Eric?”

“One and the same.”

Bonnie studied the quilt. “He’s quite an artist.”

“He is, and I’m excessively proud of him. He’s earned a reputation as one of Maui’s
leaders in preserving Hawaiian language, arts, and culture.” Midori turned a speculative
gaze upon Bonnie. “You know, I’m not sure what you had in mind for your evening programs.
Maybe you were thinking of strolls on the beach and mai tais, with a ten-minute hula
lesson thrown in to give things a Hawaiian gloss. If, on the other hand, you want
to give your quilt campers a true sense of the real Hawaii, you should speak with
my nephew. If you want your guests to take home more than a superficial understanding
of Hawaii, he could help you.”

“I’d always choose the real over the superficial,” said Bonnie.

“I’ll call him,” said Midori. “I’ll tell him to expect your visit.”

One o’clock found them with several rooms left to clean, but they decided to break
for lunch before finishing. Claire met them in the kitchen and announced that she
was taking them out, and afterward, she would show Bonnie around Lahaina.
After a tasty lunch of Japanese noodles at a small shop on Laukini Street, Midori
begged off the tour and returned to the inn, leaving Claire and Bonnie on their own.
They passed a couple hours window-shopping and walking along the beach, reminiscing
about their college days and enjoying the beautiful sunshine and clear skies. But
it was impossible to think about the old times without wondering what Craig was up
to and what the detective might be observing at that very moment, so eventually Bonnie
reminded Claire that they too had business awaiting them back at the inn.

Later, Bonnie was on the lanai working on a job announcement that Claire intended
to post in her shop, run in the Maui Quilt Guild’s newsletter, and mail to a select
group of potential teachers throughout Hawaii when Midori approached. “Are you ready
for a break?” she inquired.

Bonnie set down her pen and pushed the papers away. “Not just ready. Grateful.” She
had been stuck on the same few sentences for twenty minutes, unable to describe Claire’s
unusual proposed schedule clearly and attractively. Although Elm Creek Quilts had
recently hired two new teachers, Sarah and Summer had written all of their ads and
Bonnie felt out of practice.

“I have a few minutes free and I thought you might like a lesson in pattern designing,”
said Midori.

“Absolutely,” said Bonnie, surprised. She had expected Midori to take longer to mull
over her suitability as a student. Either Bonnie had made a better impression at the
quilting bee than she had thought, or Claire had told Midori all about the impending
divorce and she had been moved by pity.

While Bonnie slipped her haphazard rough drafts into a folder and set them aside,
Midori went back inside and reappeared a few minutes later carrying a roll of white
paper, a
few pencils, and a pair of scissors. “You should begin with a small project, a wall-hanging,”
she told Bonnie, spreading out her supplies on the table. “Something to whet your
appetite for a larger masterpiece later.”

With practiced deftness, Midori unrolled the paper, cut a length, and neatly trimmed
it to a square about three feet wide. “You’ve made paper snowflakes before?” she asked.
When Bonnie nodded, Midori continued, “Hawaiian quilt patterns follow the same principle
of design. Experienced quilters sometimes skip this step and draw on the appliqué
fabric instead of making a paper pattern, but this way works best for beginners since
you can correct any problems with your design before you cut your fabric.”

Midori folded the paper in half once to make a rectangle, and again to make a square,
and then one last fold along the diagonal to make a triangle. “You can use half-fold
or quarter-folded paper, but the one-eighth fold is the most popular method,” she
said, taking up a pencil. “Now you draw your design. Be sure to leave some space around
the outer edges. An inch or two should do for a quilt this size. I prefer to place
some of my design on the folds, but remember that you will be creating mirror images.”

“This is the part that concerns me most,” said Bonnie. “How do you know what to draw?”

Midori smiled as she sketched half of a leaf along the fold. “Take your inspiration
from nature, history, or your family. Whatever subject you want to honor.”

“But how do you know what to draw on this folded paper so that it looks right when
you unfold it?”

“Ah. That’s the challenge.” A twining vine appeared beneath the tip of Midori’s pencil.
“You must envision the finished whole from this small segment before you. Isn’t that
how we all
try to understand the glory of God? We glimpse only the material world, one small
facet of His creation, and from this alone we attempt to comprehend the eternal world
of the spirit.”

Bonnie watched as Midori’s design took shape. She had never considered herself much
of an artist and couldn’t draw anything more complex than stick figures. Her shortcomings
had never bothered her until now, for they had not prevented her from creating beautiful
quilts. Now it mattered. Would her wish to create a Hawaiian quilt uniquely her own
be thwarted before she ever threaded a needle?

Midori set down her pencil, glanced up from her work, and read the misery in Bonnie’s
expression. “It takes practice, that’s all,” she said. “It’s only paper. Try and try
again until you create a pattern that pleases you. If you’re worried, before you cut,
hold the folded edge of the paper up to a mirror to see what the finished design will
look like.”

“I’ll try that,” said Bonnie, relieved. She could imagine herself cutting one ill-conceived
pattern after another until she used up the entire roll of paper.

Taking up the scissors, Midori cut along the drawn line, snipping points and concave
angles carefully. Then she unfolded the paper, smoothed out the creases, and laid
it upon the table. Bonnie shook her head in amazement at the lovely design that appeared,
eight elegant clusters of segmented leaves on long, graceful stems.

“Monstera leaves,” said Midori, inspecting her work with a critical eye. “You don’t
have to make anything quite this complicated for your first quilt. Try to avoid sharp
turns in your design, and make nothing narrower than an inch or you’ll regret it when
it comes time to sew.”