The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club - 02 - The Tattered Quilt (22 page)

“Oh, it is,” Emma admitted. “But then I guess that’s why I like the challenge of teaching.” She motioned to the quilted table runner Pam had brought. “Now shall we get started with that?”

Goshen

When Cheryl entered the bowling alley that evening, she glanced around but didn’t see any sign of Blaine. Well, it wasn’t quite seven o’clock, so she’d just take a seat and watch the other bowlers until he showed up. Rubbing her hands, which had gotten quite cold, she realized a pair of gloves would have felt good driving over. It was almost the middle of October, but it felt more like November.

Cheryl watched the activity buzzing around her. The first couple of lanes were reserved for bowling leagues. It looked like the men were against the women. In another lane, an elderly couple seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Looking in the other direction, she noticed a young mother rocking her baby while cheering for her husband after he’d rolled a strike. Cheryl wondered how the baby could sleep with all the noise from people whooping and cheering, balls rolling down the lanes, and pins getting hit and scattering into the pit.

As food smells wafted from the snack bar in the eating area, Cheryl’s stomach growled. Several people stood in line, waiting for their orders, while others sat at tables, enjoying the food. She remembered long ago when she’d first bowled with some friends, how good the food at the snack bar had tasted. Maybe she would treat Blaine to a hot dog and a shake after they did a little bowling.

Cheryl took a seat where she could watch the people bowl, but she’d only been there a few minutes when someone tapped her shoulder. She turned her head and was surprised to see Terry.

“How’s it going?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Umm…okay. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

“I come here a lot. Bowling’s one of my favorite things to do on a Saturday night.” He flopped down in the seat beside her. “Wanna join me in a game?”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m meeting someone.”

Terry quirked an eyebrow. “Blaine?”

Cheryl nodded. “How’d you know?”

“I saw the two of you talking today during class. Figured he might be trying to set up a date. When we went outside afterwards, I heard him ask you to go bowling.”

“Oh, so you followed us here?”

“Uh, not really. I actually have bowled here many times.”

Cheryl kept her focus on the bowlers in the lane in front of her.

“You thirsty? I could get us a couple of sodas,” Terry offered.

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

“You like to ride motorcycles?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never ridden one, although it does sound exciting.”

“Wanna try it sometime? I’ve got a nice bike, and—”

“Oh, there you are,” Blaine said, stepping up to Cheryl and touching her arm. “Have you been here long?”

She smiled up at him. “Only a few minutes.”

Blaine’s forehead wrinkled as he looked at Terry. “What are you doing here?”

Terry lifted his shoulders in a brief shrug. “Came to bowl, same as you. Fact is, I’m meeting my friend Jan and his daughter soon. Any objections?”

Blaine shook his head. “It’s a free country.” He held his hand out to Cheryl. “Ready to bowl and have some fun?”

She quickly rose to her feet. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

C
HAPTER
19

Shipshewana

W
ould you like a cup of mint tea and one of those chocolate
faasnachtkuche
left over from today?” Emma asked when she entered the living room and found Lamar seated in his recliner near the fireplace.

“That sounds good,” he replied, “but I’m surprised there are any doughnuts left.”

“Most everyone went for the maple bars,” Emma explained.

“Guess I wasn’t paying close attention to who ate what. I was more interested in the look on Terry’s face when he was watching Blaine talk to Cheryl.”

“What kind of a look?” Emma asked.

“Irritation…jealousy…desperation.” Lamar gave his right earlobe a tug. “If I was a betting man, I’d say Terry’s interested in Cheryl.”

“What about Blaine? Do you think he likes her, too?”

Lamar shrugged. “He acts interested, but not in the same way as Terry. Blaine seems to be…Well, he wears kind of a placid expression when he looks at Cheryl. It makes me wonder if he’s only showing interest in her to irritate Terry.”

“Why would he do that?” Emma questioned.

“I don’t know, but I’d like to find out.”

“Pam Johnston came by this afternoon, and Blaine’s name came up.” Emma’s glasses slipped down her nose, and she pushed them back into place. “Pam wanted to tell me something about Blaine, but I didn’t think it would be right, so I moved our conversation in another direction.”

“Maybe I should pay more attention to Blaine,” Lamar said. “He might need a friend.”

Emma nodded. “You could invite him to go fishing with you sometime. That’s something you both have in common.”

“That’s a good idea, Emma. Maybe we could go some Saturday after class.” Lamar rose to his feet. “But enough about your students right now. Let’s head out to the kitchen and get our evening snack.”

Goshen

“What are you doing over there?” Blaine asked when Terry plopped down in the scorekeeper’s chair next to him.

“I’m gettin’ ready to bowl, same as you. Besides, this is the lane I was assigned,” Terry replied with a smirk. At least that was how Blaine interpreted the smug-looking smile on Terry’s face. What was the guy really doing here, anyway? Could he have known they were coming and showed up at the bowling alley on purpose, just to make trouble? Did he request the lane next to them, or had it really been assigned?

“Where are your friends?” Blaine asked. “Didn’t you say you were meeting them here?”

“I am. They just haven’t shown up yet.” Terry left his chair and took a seat on the bench beside Cheryl as she put on her bowling shoes. “Do you come here often?” he asked.

She shook her head as she finished tying the shoelaces. “This is my first time since I moved to Goshen. But even when I lived in Oregon, I didn’t bowl that often. Back home at our local alley, I remember enjoying the hot dogs and milk shakes and just hanging out with my friends. It’s fun to bowl, but I’m really not that good at it, and I’ve never had lessons.”

“I’d be happy to teach you,” Terry said, a little too eagerly.

“I’m Cheryl’s date, so if there’s any teaching to be done, I’m the one who’ll be doing it,” Blaine called over his shoulder. He’d be glad when Terry’s friends arrived. Maybe then he’d mind his own business and quit bothering Cheryl.

Terry didn’t seem to notice Blaine’s irritation; he was too busy grinning at Cheryl. The guy was clearly interested in her, but Blaine was sure the feeling wasn’t mutual. After all, she was too refined for a rough-around-the-edges kind of guy like Terry.

“Would you like me to help you pick out a ball?” Blaine asked, leaving his seat and standing next to Cheryl.

“No thanks, I brought my own,” Terry quipped.

Blaine narrowed his eyes. “I was talking to Cheryl.”

Cheryl, looking a little flustered, giggled and stood. “Thanks for the offer, Blaine, but I think I can pick out my own ball. I need one that’s not too heavy and fits my small fingers.” She hurried off toward the rack of balls, leaving Blaine alone with Terry.

“How many years have you been bowling?” Terry asked as he took his bowling ball out of the bag and wiped it down with a small towel.

“I bowled my first game when I was eight years old.”

“Guess you must be pretty good at it then.”

Blaine gave a nod, watching as Terry put his multicolored bowling ball on the ball return. “I used to play on a league, and my average is 190, but my highest score was 260.”

Terry snickered, stuffing the corner of the towel in his back pocket. “That’s nothing. My highest score was 275.”

“I’ll bet,” Blaine muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Blaine put his own ball on the ball return and seated himself in the scorekeeper’s chair again. He was beginning to wish he’d taken Cheryl out to dinner or to see a movie. He’d sure never expected to run into Terry here—not when the guy lived in Shipshewana.

Blaine inserted his and Cheryl’s names into the computer scoring system and felt relief when Cheryl returned with her ball, saying she was ready to start bowling.

Terry watched as Blaine showed Cheryl how to stand, hold the ball, and make her delivery. Everything was so precise—almost stiff-looking. Not the way Terry would do it, free and easy.
Sure wish it was me teaching her
,
and not Blaine
.

Terry studied Cheryl as she rolled her ball down the alley. It knocked down three pins and left seven standing.

“It’s okay, Cheryl,” Blaine said. “I bet you’ll pick them up on the next try.”

When her bright green ball returned, Cheryl tried again. This time she knocked down three more pins. “Guess it’s better than a gutter ball,” she said, smiling at Blaine. Then she glanced over at Terry and smiled at him, too. “Is it best for me to aim at the pins or the marks on the floor?”