The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club - 02 - The Tattered Quilt (4 page)

Jan shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever.”

“Hey, isn’t that your nosey old neighbor over there?” Terry said, pointing out the front window at an elderly woman walking along the shoulder of the road, wearing a lime green jacket and floppy beige-colored hat.

Jan nodded. “That’s Selma Nash, all right. I see she’s picking up aluminum cans, which is better than her running around our neighborhood, making a nuisance of herself.”

“Has she been hollering at you about Brutus again?”

“Nope. Not since I started keeping the dog penned up while I’m at work. She likes to tromp around the neighborhood, telling others what she thinks.” Jan grunted. “That woman is nothing but a busybody. She needs to get a life that don’t involve telling other people what to do.”

“Selma’s jacket reminds me of that spicy green apple juice Dottie had me drinking the other night. Ugh, that was some nasty stuff!” Terry wrinkled his nose and coughed several times. After he cleared his throat to get the spastic cough under control, he asked, “Why don’t you put Selma in her place if she bugs you so much?”

“I’ve tried, but it hasn’t done any good. She can’t seem to keep her big nose outta other people’s business.” Jan paused a moment, rubbing his tattooed arm. “It’s sorta like me telling you to quit smoking.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Terry retorted. “Maybe Selma has too much time on her hands. Could be if she had something to do, she wouldn’t have time to stick her nose where it don’t belong.”

Just as Terry pulled into Emma and Lamar’s yard, Jan slapped his knee. “I’ve got it! I’ll enroll Selma in Emma’s next quilting class. It’ll occupy her time and give her something to do besides snooping on everyone in the neighborhood and telling ’em what to do.”

C
HAPTER
3

S
elma Nash groaned as she bent to pick up a rubber ball she’d found on her lawn. She’d been out collecting cans all morning, like she did most weeks, and every bone in her sixty-eight-year-old body ached. She shouldn’t have to come home and pick up the neighbor children’s toys! “What’s wrong with their parents?” she mumbled. “Those kids ought to be taught to keep things in their own yard.”

Between the dogs and kids on her block, it seemed her yard always had something that shouldn’t be in it. Thankfully, Jan Sweet, the burly biker who lived next door, had been keeping his German shepherd penned up when he wasn’t at home. The big brute of an animal used to run all over the neighborhood, taking things that weren’t his and digging up people’s flowers. Of course Jan had replaced the flowers Brutus dug up in Selma’s yard, and he’d been compliant when she asked him to keep the mutt at home. But other dogs lived in the neighborhood, and their owners hadn’t been as willing to listen.

Selma marched over to the Bennetts’ house, which was on the other side of her place, and knocked on the door. When no one answered, she knocked again. Still no response. She’d thought her days of cleaning up after someone had ended when her husband, John, passed away from a heart attack five years ago.

Selma scoffed, remembering how all the complaining in the world hadn’t changed her husband’s bad habits over the course of their forty-year marriage. All her grumblings hadn’t made one iota of a difference, and in hindsight, it had caused a sense of sadness in her every time she thought about how things stood between her and John before he died. It was hard to admit, but she sometimes missed picking up after her husband.

Selma’s thoughts went to her daughter, Cora, who’d left home when she turned eighteen.

The last time Selma had seen Cora was when she’d come home for John’s funeral, but of course, Cora hadn’t stuck around very long. Hadn’t even said good-bye to her own mother, for goodness’ sake! The spiteful young woman had tossed a rose on her father’s casket, jumped in her car, and headed off down the road. It was probably for the best that Cora came back only for the funeral. Selma was so mad at her that any more time spent together would have deteriorated into a series of arguments. Selma tried not to think about it, but many times she asked herself how things would be now if John were still alive.

Heaving a sigh, Selma set the ball on the porch and pulled a notebook and pen from her pocket. She scribbled a quick note and left it with the ball, letting the kid’s parents know that if she found any more of his toys in her yard, she’d throw them away. “Guess that’s probably a bit harsh,” Selma muttered, “but maybe they’ll get the point.”

She headed back to her house, as a gust of wind blew a cluster of fallen leaves across the grass. She grabbed hold of her hat, fearing it would be blown away. Fall was definitely here, and soon the frigid days of winter would swoop in. When the weather got too cold, it would put an end to her walks, so she’d need to find something else to occupy her time.

Selma stopped at the end of her driveway to check for mail. Yesterday was her birthday, and she hadn’t received a single card. Not even from Cora. Of course Selma doubted that she’d hear from her daughter again, yet she kept hoping for a phone call, or at least a letter or card. Maybe it was just as well. If Cora was still part of her life, they’d probably argue all the time. The girl was stubborn and wouldn’t listen to anything Selma said. Despite the lack of a close relationship and years that had passed since then, there were moments like this when Selma missed having her daughter around. Of course, she’d never admitted that to anyone, or even talked about Cora. As far as Selma’s few friends and neighbors were concerned, she lived alone and had no family.

Shaking her troubling thoughts aside, Selma stepped onto her porch. She was about to open the door, when Jan ambled into the yard and hollered, “Can I talk to you a minute, Selma?”

Selma slowly nodded. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to Jan about anything right now—she just wanted to get into the house and fix herself a bowl of soup for lunch.

“What’d you want to talk to me about?” she asked when Jan joined her on the porch.

“Came to give you this.” Jan handed Selma an envelope.

Her heart fluttered. Could it be a belated birthday card? Did Jan know that yesterday was her birthday? But how could he know? She’d never mentioned it to him.

With trembling fingers Selma tore the envelope open. What she discovered inside was not a birthday card at all. It was a piece of paper with a woman’s name and address written on it.

“Who’s Emma Miller, and why are you giving me this?” Selma asked, looking up at Jan through squinted eyes.

“She’s the Amish lady I took some quilting classes from a year and a half ago. Only her name was Emma Yoder then. She’s married to Lamar Miller now, and they—”

“What’s this have to do with me?” Selma couldn’t keep the irritation she felt out of her voice. Why was Jan wasting her time? Didn’t he realize she had better things to do than stand on the porch and shiver while she stared at a piece of paper with an address of a woman she’d never met?

“I signed you up for Emma’s next class.” Jan grinned and pointed to the envelope. “So, what do you think about that?”

She pursed her thin lips. “Why would you think I’d want to take a quilting class? I’ve never said I did, you know.”

He lifted his broad shoulders in a brief shrug. “Just thought it might be something you’d enjoy—especially since winter will be here soon, and your work in the yard will come to an end.”

Selma stared at the envelope a few seconds more, trying to piece things together. “How much do the quilting lessons cost?”

Jan flapped his big calloused hand. “No need to worry about that. I’ve got it covered.”

“You—you paid for my spot in the class?” she sputtered.

He nodded.

“Why would you do that?”

“Like I said, I thought it’d be something you’d enjoy. The class starts next Saturday. Will you be free to go?”

Selma tapped her chin, thoughtfully mulling things over. “I believe so.”

Jan brought his hands together in a clap so loud it caused Selma to jump. “Great! I’m sure you’ll enjoy the class as much as I did. Probably more, since you’re a woman who likes nice things.”

Selma couldn’t deny it. Her flower garden was proof enough. Besides, she’d always prided herself on being able to sew, although she’d never made a quilt before.
I’m sure it can’t be that hard
, she thought.
I’ll bet my quilt will turn out better than anyone else’s in the class
.

While Jan’s gift wasn’t actually a birthday present, it was the best thing that had happened to Selma all week. “Thank you, Jan,” she said with a smile she hoped looked sincere. “I think I might enjoy that class, and it’ll give me something to look forward to.”

Elkhart, Indiana

As Paul Ramirez left his second-grade classroom that afternoon, he thought about the phone call he’d received from his sister-in-law, Carmen, last night. He’d been pleased when she’d said she was in town and wanted to come by Paul’s place this evening to visit him and his two-year-old daughter, Sophia. That in itself was a surprise, since things had become strained between Paul and Carmen after Paul’s wife died almost two years ago. Paul figured the reason Carmen had only visited once since then was because she hadn’t completely forgiven him for not being able to prevent the accident that took Lorinda’s life. The other thing that had taken Paul by surprise when Carmen called was that she’d asked if he still visited with the Amish woman who’d taught him how to quilt.

“Yes, I do,” Paul had said. “I stop by to see Emma and her husband, Lamar, as often as I can.”

There’d been a pause, and then Carmen said, “Could I meet her? I mean, would you be willing to introduce me to Emma?”

Paul had said yes, but he was confused by Carmen’s request. Why would she be interested in meeting Emma? And how long would she be in the area? He wished now that he’d thought to ask. Well, she’d be coming by this evening, and he could ask Carmen for details then.

As Paul slid into the driver’s seat of his minivan, his thoughts went to Sophia. It would be good for his little girl to spend some time with her aunt. Paul was grateful that his folks as well as his sister, Maria, and her family lived close by. Everyone, including Maria’s three girls, doted on Sophia, and of course she loved all the attention. When Lorinda died, it had been difficult for Paul to cope, but with the help of his family and friends, he’d learned to deal with the pain of losing his beloved wife. Of course attending Emma’s quilting classes and sharing his feelings with Emma and the other students had been a big help, too.

As Paul drove closer to the Loving Hands Daycare Center, where he dropped Sophia off each morning, he couldn’t believe how quickly the leaves had turned color and fallen from the trees lining the street. The only leaves left were from some of the oaks.

Taking his foot off the gas pedal in time to let a squirrel run across the road, he smiled when he noticed that the bushy-tailed critter had a good-sized walnut in its mouth.

Paul pulled into the daycare parking lot and turned off the engine. He was glad things had worked out for Sophia at the daycare. She loved going there, and it made life easier knowing his little girl was content during the day while he taught his second-graders. It hadn’t always been that way. Just a year ago, Sophia had cried whenever Paul dropped her off. Since then, she’d become more settled and content being with some of the other children. That eased Paul’s guilt for having to leave her each day while he earned a living. If Lorinda were still alive, Sophia would have been home with her mother all day.