The New Year's Quilt (Elm Creek Quilts Novels) (23 page)

“I love Christmas but hate the New Year,” said Amy, forcing a laugh as if she expected Sylvia to think she was a fool. “I don’t like sweeping away the old year and welcoming in the new. Those moments of the past twelve months that I cherished so much are gone and they’ll never come again. To me, that’s a loss.”

Sylvia suddenly understood why Andrew’s love for her had turned Amy’s world upside down. Amy thought the past was fixed, immutable, safe. Andrew’s engagement to Sylvia had not only called into question her father’s love for her mother, but also threatened her very way of understanding the world.

“Is something seriously wrong with me?” Amy’s voice broke. “On New Year’s Eve, everyone else parties and celebrates and counts down the minutes until midnight as if they can’t wait to see the year end, and all the while I’m holding on to it with both fists. I’d push the ball in Times Square back up to the top of the flagpole if they’d let me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you that a little perspective wouldn’t cure,” said Sylvia. “You aren’t the only one who feels a little bit of sadness to see the old year go. After all, what’s the most popular song on New Year’s Eve but ‘Auld Lang Syne’? Even Robert Burns felt melancholy reflecting upon days gone by, upon friends no longer near. We can’t hold on to the past, it’s true, but we can keep the best part of the days of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ in our hearts and in our memories, and we can look forward to the future with hope and resolve.”

“I suppose that’s all we can do,” said Amy softly.

Sylvia smiled. “It’s not as bad as all that. I’ve learned to think of the New Year as a gift. It’s a blank page and you can write upon it as you wish. Sometimes we make a pledge to improve ourselves in the year ahead. My mother taught me that it’s also wise to make the world a better place for someone else, even if it’s only in small ways.” She remembered Mrs. Compson’s wise counsel. Sylvia had not taken heed in time to reconcile with her sister, but she would not make that mistake again. “A resolution is also the settlement of a dispute. Perhaps you and I and your father can make a resolution today. We’re a few days shy of the New Year, but this resolution is too important to delay.”

“It’s not too early,” said Amy. “I’m thankful that it’s not too late. Besides, with three kids, I always feel like the New Year starts in September with the first day of school.”

“Then let’s not wait until New Year’s Eve to resolve our differences.” Sylvia rose and took her daughter-in-law by the hand. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

Sylvia led Amy upstairs to the guest room, where she removed the New Year’s Reflections quilt from her tote bag and spread it upon the bed. “I wanted this to be a New Year’s Day gift,” she said, “but a day or two sooner doesn’t matter. It’s not quite finished, so mind the pins in the binding.”

As Amy looked on, Sylvia shared the story of the New Year’s Reflections quilt, from the discovery of the long-forgotten fabric stash of the Bergstrom women and the loneliness that inspired her to cut the first pieces to the unexpected path she had followed in keeping the resolution she had made that night. She described the blocks she had chosen and how each one preserved a memory of a New Year of long ago. A True Lover’s Knot for Sylvia’s belated acceptance of Elizabeth’s marriage to Henry, and an Orange Peel for the sweetness of life she hoped they found in California. A Hatchet to mark the lead figure Claudia had found in the bowl of water by the fireside, foretelling her unhappiness in love and the severing of ties between sisters. A Wandering Foot block, a fond remembrance of her dear brother and her mother’s gift for finding hope and courage in the face of uncertainty and fear. Simple patterns like those she had sewn together to make quilts for the Orphan’s Home, and complex patterns to trace the tangled relationships of family united by love and chance and divided by tragedy. The Resolution Square for promises made, and Memory Chain for lessons learned. Every New Year’s Eve of nostalgic farewells and each New Year’s Day full of anticipation and new beginnings had been recorded in the patchwork mosaic of memories.

Sylvia would need years to tell Amy every story, every lesson she had sewn into the quilt, but for the first time since she and Andrew had announced their engagement, she believed Amy would grant her that time.

S
YLVIA WAS NOT
the only one who shared New Year’s memories from days gone by. At Sylvia’s prompting, Amy recalled New Year’s Eve parties in her childhood home, snowball fights and ice skating on the pond on New Year’s morning, gathering around the table for a traditional meal of ham and sweet potatoes, and curling up beside her father on the sofa to watch the Rose Bowl on television. Packing up the holiday decorations on the last day of Winter Break and hauling the Christmas tree out to the curb. Settling into the New Year until it was no longer the future but the familiar present.

They lingered so long that eventually Andrew and Daniel came looking for them. The apprehension on the men’s faces when Andrew tentatively pushed open the door made both women burst out laughing. Sylvia’s heart soared when Amy threw her arms around her father and murmured something in his ear. The words were meant for him alone and Sylvia would not pry, but the look of sheer happiness that lit up Andrew’s face at that moment told her all would be well.

Over the next two days, Sylvia finished the New Year’s Reflections quilt, often sitting in front of the fire while Amy hand-pieced a simple block nearby. As they sewed, they shared memories of New Years past, of years welcomed with excitement or with trepidation, of years that were too lovely to forget and others too sorrowful to dwell upon. Sylvia almost felt as if she were back at Elm Creek Manor, gathered together with the Bergstrom women she missed so dearly. Sylvia knew only time would allow the true bond of family to grow between her and her onetime reluctant stepdaughter, but she would resolve to be patient, to give Amy the time she needed. It was the season for hope, for joy, and for new beginnings, and Sylvia prayed she, Amy, and Andrew would be mindful of how quickly years could pass, and how unwise it was to waste a single moment in enmity.

Sylvia put the last stitch into the binding on the morning of New Year’s Day, and when she presented it to Amy, it was with a heartfelt prayer that they would make the most of the fresh start the New Year offered. She knew there was no better time to reflect upon the past—mistakes and triumphs, happiness and sorrow—and look for lessons that would guide her into the future. She trusted Amy and Andrew would do the same.

Sylvia did not pretend to know what the year ahead would bring. The road before them passed through sunshine and shadow, and she could not see far beyond the first bend. But with loved ones by her side and loving memories of those who had gone before in her heart, she would move into the future with courage and hope that the best was yet to be, if she did her part to make it so.