The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club (4 page)

Stuart shook his head. “I can’t look at everything and keep my focus on the road ahead. You want us to get in an accident?”

“Of course not, but you could have at least glanced at the quilt. I’ll bet you would have looked if it had been something you’d wanted to see.”

Stuart mumbled something unintelligible in response.

Pam sighed. “I wish I could make an Amish quilt. It would give me a sense of satisfaction to be so creative.”

No comment. Not even a grunt.

She nudged his arm again. “Did you hear what I said, Stuart?”

“I heard, and if you don’t stop poking me, I’m going to zip right out of Shipshewana and head back to Mishawaka.”

“I’m not ready to go home yet. Besides, you said we could stop by Weaver’s furniture store and look for a new coffee table.”

“Yeah, okay, but that’s the last stop I’m going to make. There are other things I’d rather be doing than shopping for furniture.”

“Like what?”

“There’s gonna be a baseball game on TV this evening, and I don’t want to miss it.”

Pam looked at Stuart with disgust. It was always the same old thing with him. “When you’re not working, you’re either hunting, fishing, watching some sports event on TV, or putting your nose in one of those outdoor sportsman’s magazines. You obviously would rather not be with me.”

“That’s not true. I’m here with you right now, aren’t I?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“I’ve spent all morning and part of the afternoon traipsing in and out of every shop in Shipshewana just to make you happy.”

She glared at him. “It’s kind of hard for me to be happy when in almost every store you said you were bored and wished we could go home.”

Stuart tapped the steering wheel with his knuckles. “Never said I was bored. Just said I could think of other things I’d rather be doing.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could.”

For the next several minutes, Pam said nothing, but as they turned into the parking lot of Weaver’s store, she reached into the plastic sack at her feet and pulled out a newspaper she’d picked up when they’d first arrived in town. “Before we go inside, I want to talk to you about something.”

Stuart turned off the engine and looked at her, blinking his hazel-colored eyes. “What’s on your mind now?”

“Remember how our marriage counselor suggested we do more things together?”

“Yeah … yeah … What about it?”

“She said I should do something you like, and then in turn, you should do something I like.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I went fishing with you two weekends in a row.”
Which I absolutely hated
, she mentally added. “So now it’s your turn to do something I want to do.”

“Just did. Came here so you could do some shopping.”

“Shopping doesn’t count. All we’ve bought so far are some bulk foods items at E&S.”

“But we went into nearly every other store in town just so you could look around.”

Ignoring his sarcastic comment, Pam held the newspaper in front of Stuart’s face and pointed to the ad she’d circled. “An Amish woman who lives here in Shipshewana is offering a six-week quilting class.”

“So?”

“I’ve always wanted to make an Amish quilt, and I really would like to take the class.”

“Go right ahead; I have no objection to that.”

“I thought maybe we could attend the classes together.”

He tipped his head and looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. “You want me to go to a quilt class?”

She nodded. “It would be fun.”

“Oh, you think? You’d better speak for yourself on that, ‘cause I think it would be boring.” Stuart shook his head forcefully. “No thanks. I’ll pass. It’s not the kind of thing a man like me would do.”

“Oh, so do you think sewing is just for women?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I think.” Stuart drummed the steering wheel with his fingers, emphasizing his point.

“Well, if sewing’s only for women, then fishing’s only for men.”

He shrugged.

“I hated fishing, Stuart,” she said resentfully. “Now it’s your turn to do something with me that you think you’ll hate.”

He gave an undignified snort. “Give me a break, Pam!”

“I went fishing to make you happy. Can’t you do the same for me?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Six weeks? Do you really expect me to sit in some dumb quilting class for six whole weeks with a bunch of women I don’t even know?”

“You’ll know me, and I don’t expect you to just sit there.”

“What then?”

“You can learn to quilt, same as me.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’d expect me to learn how to quilt. That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me to do.”

She folded her arms and glared at him. “I can’t believe you would expect me to hire a sitter for the kids so I could sit in your boat at the lake and hold a fishing pole all day. But I did it for you, so why can’t you do this for me?”

“You only went fishing two Saturdays. If I went to the quilting class for six weeks, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“What are you saying? Do you expect me to go fishing with you four more times? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yep. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Pam sat mulling things over. “Agreed.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll go fishing with me four more times?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“And you won’t complain about anything?”

Pam nibbled on her lower lip. No complaining? Now, that would be really difficult; especially since she hated the bug-infested woods.

“Well, what’s it gonna be?”

“If you promise to go to the quilt classes every Saturday for six weeks, then for the next four Saturdays after that, I’ll go fishing.”

“And you won’t complain?”

“I’ll try not to.”

“It’s a deal then. Now are we done with this discussion?”

Pam swallowed hard as she gave a slow nod. She couldn’t believe what she’d just agreed to do. Maybe after the quilting classes were over, she could think of some excuse not to go fishing with Stuart. Better yet, maybe she could talk him out of going fishing, period. Well, for now, at least, she’d be getting her way. As soon as they got home, she planned to call the number in the ad and reserve two spots for Emma Yoder’s quilting classes.

S
tuart couldn’t believe Pam would even want to make an Amish quilt, much less expect him to make one, too. Some women were hard to figure out, and his wife was certainly one of them. Maybe the idea of quilting was just a passing fancy. Could be that after she’d attended a class or two she’d change her mind and decide that quilting wasn’t something she really wanted to do.

Six whole weeks! That’s just plain dumb. I catch on to things really fast, though. Bet I’ll have the whole process down pat after the first couple of weeks, and then I won’t have to go anymore. ‘Course, if Pam does decide to stick it out, she’ll expect me to go along, even if I am able to quilt something sooner than that
.

Stuart gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. This was really a no-win situation—at least for him. On the other hand, if he stuck it out the entire time, then Pam would have to keep her end of the bargain and go fishing with him four more times. It might be worth it just to watch her try to deal with the whole fishing scene again.

Stuart chuckled to himself. The last time they went fishing, it had been comical to watch Pam swatting at bugs, primping with her hair, and struggling with the line on the fishing pole when she’d caught a fish. He could still hear her hollering when she’d tried to reel it in:
“Help! Help me, Stuart! I don’t know what to do with this fish!”

That day could have been kind of fun if Pam hadn’t whined and complained about every little thing. Why couldn’t she just relax and enjoy the great outdoors the way he did? If he’d known she was too prissy to get dirty and deal with the bugs once in a while, he’d have thought twice about marrying her. Of course, during their dating days he’d been attracted to her beauty and brains and hadn’t thought much about whether they had a lot in common. He just felt good being with her back then.

Just look at her now
, Stuart told himself.
She’s sitting over there in the passenger’s seat, looking so prim and perfect. Not a hair out of place on her pretty blond head, and I’ll bet there isn’t one wrinkle on her slacks or blouse. We’re sure opposites in what we like to do, how we dress, and in so many other ways. No wonder our marriage is in trouble. Even with the help of our counselor, I have to wonder if there’s really any help for me and Pam
.

Topeka, Indiana

“How’d it go with your probation officer yesterday?” Jan Sweet’s employee Terry Cooley asked as Jan climbed into the passenger side of Terry’s truck.

Jan shrugged and clipped on his seat belt. “Went okay, I guess. During our sessions, she always asks me a bunch of stupid questions, but I’m just keepin’ it real.”

“That’s probably the best way, all right. So, are you ready to head home now or what?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” They’d just completed a roofing job at a home near Tiffany’s Restaurant, and Jan knew it was too late in the day to start tearing the roof off the Morgans’ house in LaGrange. “Guess we’ll get an early start on Monday mornin’,” he told Terry.

“Sounds good to me. I’m kinda tired anyways.”

“Same here.”

They rode in silence for a while, and then Jan brought up the subject that had been on his mind all day. “You know, I really hate relyin’ on you for rides all the time. Sure will be glad when I get my license back, ‘cause I like drivin’ my own truck to work.” Jan thumped his knee. “And man, I sure do miss ridin’ my Harley. I like the feel of the wind in my face and the freedom I have when I’m sailin’ down the road on my motorcycle. Know what I mean?”

Terry nodded. “Just hang in there, buddy. As long as you don’t do anything to blow it, you won’t have too much longer to go.”

“Three more months seems like forever.” Jan groaned. “In the meantime, when I don’t have far to go, I’ll keep ridin’ that old bicycle I bought at the secondhand store. And when I need to travel farther, I’m thankful for friends like you who are willin’ to give me a lift.”

“Hey man, it’s no big deal.” Terry grinned and pushed his shoulder-length, flaming red hair away from his face. “If the tables were turned, I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

“You got that right.” Jan appreciated a friend like Terry, who was not only a hard worker, but liked to ride motorcycles, as well. The two of them, both single, had become good buddies despite their age difference. Although Terry was only twenty-eight and Jan had recently turned forty, they had a lot in common and saw eye to eye on many things. When Jan moved to Shipshewana and started his roofing business three years ago, he’d been glad to find Terry.

“So what’d your probation officer have to say during your session yesterday?” Terry asked.

Jan squinted his eyes almost shut. “Said I should try to find some kinda creative outlet.”

“How come?”

“She thinks I’m uptight and need to find somethin’ that’ll help me relax.”

“You mean somethin’ other than a few beers?”

Jan grimaced. “It was a few too many beers at the biker bar that caused me to lose my license, remember?”

“Yeah, but if you hadn’t gotten picked up for drivin’ your motorcycle too fast, you wouldn’t have gotten nailed for driving under the influence.”

“True, but I’ve learned my lesson. No more drinkin’ and drivin’, and no more speedin’.” Jan pointed to a grocery store on his left. “Would you pull in over there? I’m thirsty, and I’m all out of bottled water.”