Read The Friendship Star Quilt Online
Authors: Patricia Kiyono,Stephanie Michels
The Friendship Star Quilt (14 page)
Brad shrugged. “I sent home notes with the kids and even called all the parents. But a lot of them weren't able to come.”
Jill leaned back in her chair and regarded him over the top of her wire-framed glasses. “Hogwash, and you know it. These are their kids, and it's the weekend. You'd think they'd jump at the chance to see their children perform.”
“I thought so, too. But the majority of parents had excuses why they couldn't.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should have told them their kids wouldn't be able to participate without them chaperoning or helping with the equipment.”
“You think threats would work?”
“It's not threats.” Jill paused, tapping a finger against her lip as if considering how to best phrase it.
“Call it
parental involvement
,” her co-worked offered. “That's how the ski team, debate team, and science group handles all their competitions. The parents help by chaperoning, getting supplies together, and setting up.”
“I didn't realize that.”
The women both nodded, sagely.
“You've put a lot of hard work into the music program since you've been with the school, Mr. Carmichael, and it shows. Our band has earned a lot of recognition this year, and parents are proud of the kids. If you say the band can't go to a competition or a parade if the parents don't step up to the plate, believe me, you'll get the volunteers you need.”
“And the principal will back you up,” Molly added. “Mac believes education has to be a partnership between school and home in order to work properly. Talk to him. He may have some other suggestions for you as well.”
Brad mulled over the women's words. It would be nice to have help. But could it be as easy as threatening to take away participation in the extra activities? He made a mental note to talk to the principal about it. Meanwhile, he was grateful to the aides for volunteering and was relieved the school board had approved them as an acceptable solution for the parade trip. Now, he was free to drive his own vehicle so he and Jennie could enjoy the weekend with family.
The morning of the parade, he would have the band and their parents meet at the high school to get checked in. Once everyone was accounted for, the bus and equipment vehicles would caravan to Royal Oak. His aunt and uncle would meet him at the staging area for the parade. Jennie would go with them â and possibly his parents if they decided to drive up from Dearborn â to watch the parade, and he'd march the route with the band. After the parade finished, Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Ted would take Jennie home with them while he verified all the students were either with their parents or back on the bus with the aides. As soon as he'd seen them safely on their way back to Grandville, he'd be free to spend the weekend with his family.
What a blessing to have everything come together this well. Band practice that evening had been the best one so far. The kids had mastered the new arrangements, and most of them had their footwork memorized, too. Of course, there were always the one or two who needed a bit more practice, but he still had a little over a week to work with them.
Tomorrow, he'd give the color guard the new flags so they could start practicing their routines and get used to handling them. He'd peeked in the package when he got home and was pleased at how much the white wavy line resembled a flying seahawk. The simple design could easily be seen from a distance, and looked sleek and modern. He could hardly wait to show the flags to the girls. They'd be so excited.
Brad closed the dishwasher and set the dial to wash. Thanks to the unexpected supper offering, he actually had time this evening to spend with Jennie without dozens of other chores clamoring for his attention. He couldn't remember the last time it had happened.
Life didn't get much better than this.
****
“Mr. Carmichael, can we talk to you?”
Brad glanced up from the lunch he was eating in his office to find the girls from his color guard at his door, crowded behind Lexi Arnold, who seemed to be their spokesperson. Wondering why the girls appeared so glumâthey'd been all smiles and excitement just a few hours ago when he'd presented them with their new flagsâhe motioned them inside.
“What's up, girls?” he asked, searching one solemn face after another. “Is something bothering you?”
Their red-haired spokesperson stepped forward. “It's about the flags, Mr. Carmichael.”
Anne flipped through a new quilt magazine by the register counter and half-listened as Courtney and a customer discussed their weekend plans. For some reason, she felt at loose ends in the afternoon. She couldn't quite put her finger on why, but wondered if it had something to do with Jennie.
The week had been so much fun. She'd enjoyed spending time with the youngster every day during Brad's band rehearsals. Jennie was a delight to be around. Anne marveled at how quickly the six-year old had grasped the basic techniques of hand sewing. She hadn't grown bored with it or wanted to do something different. Instead, each afternoon, when she finished the day's schoolwork, Jennie had gotten her “work tote” â a small shoebox Anne had found in the back room â from the cupboard and sat beside Anne to stitch another seam on her project. While they worked, Jennie would tell Anne about her day at school and share funny incidents. However, Jennie wouldn't be coming to the shop that afternoon. She'd announced the day before that her friend Callie had invited her to come home with her after school.
Anne wondered if the child's absence was the reason she was feeling out of sorts. Could she miss Jennie this much after only a week of spending time with her? Or did not getting to see the child's dad have something to do with it? Anne frowned. She could no longer deny her growing attraction to the gentle-spirited band director. Every time she saw him, he seemed to chip away another piece of the thick wall she'd erected around her emotions. It was nothing Brad consciously did. In fact, he seldom talked to her about anything except Jennie or business. She doubted he had any inkling of her feelings towards him.
If he suspected, would Brad Carmichael run to the nearest exit?
As if she had conjured him from her thoughts, Anne saw Brad open the front door. He paused in the entrance and scanned the shop until he spotted her by the register. Then, he waved and headed her way.
“Hello, Mr. Carmichael,” she greeted. “I didn't expect to see you here today.”
“Please. It's Brad, remember? We're not at school, and you're definitely not a student.”
“No, of course, I'm not,” she replied. She wasn't quite sure how to interpret his comment but didn't want to ask and seem stupid, so she kept the question to herself. Instead, she pasted an interested expression on her face. “How can I help you today, Brad?”
He dropped his gaze then shifted from one foot to the other. “The color guard loves the flags you made.”
“But?”
He quickly glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, when someone starts out like you just did, it's usually followed by a disclaimer,” she replied. “So what's up?”
He fidgeted a moment then took a deep breath. “The girls love the flags, but there's a problem.”
“With the flags? What's wrong? Did one rip? You know I'll be happy to fix it for you.”
“No, no. It's not the flags,” he reassured her. “They're working out well, and they handled great during the guard's maneuvers.”
Anne rested a hip against the counter. “Then what's the problem?”
“It's the girls. They've informed me the new flags make their outfits lookâ” He paused and drew air quotes with two fingers on each hand. “Dorky.”
“And are theyâ” She imitated his air quotes. “Dorky?”
He shrugged. “Probably. Up until now, the girls have just worn modified band uniforms. But we've been to a few competitions, and they've seen what other schools wear. And now that we have our beautiful new flags, the girls want costumes, too.”
He paused again and puffed out a breath. “Good grief, Anne. It seems like I'm always in here asking you for favors. You must want to hide every time I walk in the door.”
“I haven't heard you ask for anything yet, so I think you're safe,” she teased then gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “How can I help you, Brad?”
Her mouth went dry as he rested his elbows on the other side of the counter and leaned toward her. This close to him, she noticed the amber flecks in his chocolate eyes and the strands of gold threading his hair.
“Well,” he began, “I wondered if there was any chance you could work with the girls to come up with an idea for the parade that would be easy to do and not cost an arm and a leg.”
“I could try, but I'm not sure what you need. It would help if I knew what the color guards at other schools wear.”
He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and set it on the counter. “I thought you might need to see that sort of thing, so I gathered some pictures. One of the girls' moms took them at a competition.”
He opened the envelope and took out the pile of photos then leaned toward her again to show them to her. She inhaled the spicy scent of his aftershave and her heart beat quickened.
“âwith a Spanish theme. What do you think?”
“Spanish?”
For Pete's sake, stop acting like some moon-eyed teenager and pay attention to what the man is saying!
“No, we're playing holiday music,” he replied, apparently thinking she'd been asking about his band's theme.
“Let's see what else you have.”
He flipped the photo of girls with colorful Spanish skirts and flags face down then turned over the next one. The color guard in it wore white costumes with sailor tops and hats. “This show had a nautical theme.” He dismissed it as well.
Anne almost gasped at the scantily clad girls in the next picture he turned over.
“This one had a modern theme about urban living.” He met Anne's gaze, and it was all she could do to focus on his words rather than those warm amber-flecked eyes. “I'd prefer my girls not dress like this.”
“I'm sure the school board and the parents would agree,” Anne said. She poured over the remaining pictures Brad had brought, but nothing seemed to jump out at her.
“Maybe it would be better if you came and talked to the girls,” he suggested.
“When is their next practice?”
“We have band every school day at nine o'clock then rehearsals after school. This week, we'll also rehearse on Saturday morning.”
“The parade is next week Saturday so there's isn't much time to pull something together. Would it be okay if I came to tomorrow's rehearsal?”
“It would be wonderful, but don't you have to be here?”
Anne waved toward her clerk. “I'll make arrangements for Courtney to open the shop tomorrow after she gets her kids off to school.”
“Super! Could you get to the high school a little before nine? You'll need to check in at the office, but I'll leave word you're coming. One of the secretaries can direct you to the band room.”
She nodded then gathered the photos and handed them to him.
“Thanks so much, Anne,” he said as their hands met. “I really appreciate all your help. UmâI mean the girls will really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” she replied, trying to hide her disappointment at his clarification. “I'll see you tomorrow, Brad.”
****
The next morning, Anne dressed carefully in a pair of denim jeans she'd embellished on the back pockets and on one thigh with miniature quilt squares. She paired it with her favorite pink chenille sweater and a quilted hobo bag then drove Myra's big sedan to the high school. Normally, she preferred to walk or ride the bus rather than take the car. However, ever since she'd flipped the calendar to November, business at The Stitching Post had seemed to increase. Maybe customers realized the holidays were getting closer and they needed to get started on gifts and their home décor projects. Or maybe the cooler weather just had more people thinking about indoor crafts. Whatever it was, Anne wanted to be back at the store by ten to help Courtney, so she figured it would be faster to drive the couple miles to the school and back.
As she pulled into the school lot, she spotted Brad's dusty tan car among the vehicles already in the faculty lot. She found a space marked for visitors and parked. Then she took a deep breath, bracing herself for the encounter ahead and exited from the car.
High school hadn't been the greatest experience for Anne. She'd enjoyed her classes and her teachers, but the lunch hours and after school time had been somewhat lonely for a country girl. Her grandparents' farm had been on the farthest edge of the school district, and there had been no other kids nearby. She hadn't had any friends growing up except for the children of her grandparent's hired hands during the summer, and they had always moved on to other places when fall rolled along. Since all her classmates already had their own friends or social cliques. Anne had felt like a misfit and tried to just remain invisible, spending most lunch hours in the library and hurrying home after school. She hadn't been bullied by the others. In fact, it had been just the opposite. Most of her fellow students hadn't even noticed her or, if they did, wouldn't have been able to recall her name. Except for the few months as a senior when she'd worked on costumes for the school play, she'd spent her high school time quietly in the shadows, watching life go on around her.
Now, she squared her shoulders and reached for the handle of the front door. Brad had told her to go in the front door and register at the office. Anne's loafers echoed softly in the empty hallway. She waved to the woman seated at the large desk inside. The Rivertown secretary greeted Anne with a friendly smile which was always a good sign.
“Good morning,” the woman said when she'd opened the window. “Can I help you?”
“I'm Anne Brown. Can you direct me to the band room?”
“Of course. You must be the young woman Mr. Carmichael told me to watch for. He said you'd be helping the color guard with their costumes.” At Anne's nod, the friendly secretary continued. “Brad is expecting you, Ms. Brown. Just take the hallway to the left. It leads right to the band room. It's a bit of a walk, but you'll be able to hear them as you get closer.”
Anne thanked her then hurried down the hall the woman had indicated. Every step she took increased her uneasiness.
What if the girls hated her? What if they thought her ideas were stupid? What if they considered her some country bumpkin?
Her loafer heels clicked on the floor tiles, miniature drums marking cadence for a funeral march. With every beat, the cadence swelled. Suddenly, she stopped and realized the thumping she'd heard wasn't her shoes or her escalating heart rate. It was the muffled boom of a bass drum. Apparently, at least one of the drummers had arrived already to practice. Listening closely, Anne heard the low hum of a tuba and the lighter sound of a flute. Chiding herself for being so skittish, she opened the door and walked into the band room.
The players tuning their instruments stopped. So did most of the chatting. A hundred faces turned as one, staring at her curiously. Okay, so maybe a hundred was an exaggeration. It was more like four dozen, but it sure seemed like more to her.
She paused in the doorway, unsure what to do next. Why were they staring at her? Should she turn and rush away? Why hadn't she stayed at The Stitching Post where she could be invisible?
Then she heard his voice.
“AnneâMiss Anne,” Brad greeted from the corner where he'd been talking to one of the clarinet players. “Thanks for joining us this morning.”
He crossed the room and took her arm, drawing her into the band room toward a group of young girls on the far side, who'd been chatting together.
“Lexi? Is the color guard all here yet?”
A pretty redhead nodded. “We're here, Mr. Carmichael. Everyone got here early like you asked us to. “
“Okay, girls, come over and meet the lady who made your flags and is going to help you with some costuming ideas.”
A dozen of the teens separated from the larger group and headed toward Anne and Brad with Lexi in the lead. The girls were various heights, builds and coloring, but all studied her curiously.
“Why don't you girls take Miss Anne into the choir room and talk to her about your ideas,” Brad suggested. “It will be quieter there. You can come outside and join us for practice when you're done.”
Anne anticipated getting condescending glances once they were away from the band director, but the girls continued their teenage chatter as they led the way to a room farther down the hall. Once they went inside, the girls clustered around her, causing Anne's nervousness to escalate again.
As a tall blonde stepped forward, Anne thought,
Here it comes
.
“Did you decorate your jeans yourself?”
Anne had heard variants of the question often in her life. Usually, it was followed by some disparaging comment about people who couldn't afford “real outfits from the mall”. Now, she nodded and took a deep breath
“I love what you did to them. I wish I could sew like you. I never seem to find jeans I like in the stores.”
The girl Brad had called Lexi laughed, “If you'd done your homework for home ec class, Patty, you'd probably sew better. Except you'd never be able to make points like those. How did you get them so sharp, Miss Anne?”
“Did you quilt your bag, too? It's adorable,” another girl asked at the same time.
Compliments? Anne studied the girls' eager faces. No one was mocking her, no one sneered. They appeared genuinely interested in what she had to say.
“My grandmother taught me to sew before I was a teenager, so I've been quilting and sewing for a long, long time.” She relaxed and pulled a note pad from her tote bag. “Why don't we sit down and get comfortable while we discuss costume ideas?”