Authors: Judith Pella
Ada had noticed that Jane had been especially quiet today. Once or twice when she first arrived, it had almost seemed as if she was on the verge of tears. Ada had wanted to ask her what was wrong but had curbed her curiosity. She knew Jane would have been mortified if she had broken down in public, even among her closest friends.
“Your fingers are going to be raw before the month is out,” Ada said to Polly. “But your quilt is wonderful.I t is one of the nicest basket quilts I have seen.”
The basket blocks were set on point, alternating with plain white squares, while the basket itself was made of several small triangles with a curved handle. Each was of a different fabric with a white as the background.
“Claudia requested baskets,” Polly said.
Polly had already marked the plain white squares with a feathered wreath pattern. She said the baskets could be outline stitched. Everyone found their places around the frame. The ladies worked together like a well-oiled machine. Stitches were small and uniform; even Mary’s were nice despite her failing vision and arthritic fingers.
When the part showing on the frame was finished, Emma Jean said, “Shall we roll?” and a new section of quilt was rolled into view. The nine expert quilters would finish the quilt that day. Their work was not slowed or compromised by their steady stream of conversation.
They talked about their children and grandchildren, for those fortunate enough to have them. They shared recipe ideas or cleaning hints. They talked about mutual friends and relatives who were not in the Circle, and they steadfastly refused to call this “gossip.” But by far the main topic of conversation this meeting was the new minister. They all had mostly good to say, although there was some criticism about his inexperience.
The subject of the minister prompted Ada to mention a somewhat related topic, though she was careful not to make it appear related.
“I’ve been wondering about something,” Ada began casually. “Ellie has shown an interest in joining the Sewing Circle. I know we’ve talked before regarding our daughters, and there never was a consensus. But several of the girls are older now. . . .” She let her words trail away, encouraging comments from the others.
“I still worry that the quality of our work will suffer if we invite the inexperienced,” said Florence. “Not all the girls are as proficient as your Ellie or my Mabel.”
Ada tried not to wince at the implication, but she knew Florence was referring to Maggie.I nstead she decided, for Ellie’s sake, to meet the problem head-on. “I can assure everyone that Maggie has absolutely no interest in joining this group.”
Chuckles rippled around the frame, and there could be no doubt they had all been thinking of the problem of Maggie.
“That is not the only problem with the suggestion,” Emma Jean said. “We determined from the beginning that the group would be open only to married women.”
“This Circle could be a wonderful opportunity for the young unmarried women to learn from us,” Jane said. “Not only quilting but about being good wives and mothers.”
“Would you want someone to be learning on your quilt?” Florence asked. “Do you want a quilt full of toenail catchers?”
If it had been anyone else protesting, Ada might have just laughed it off. She knew better than any that Maggie’s quilt stitches were indeed big enough to catch a toenail. But it rankled that the protest came from Florence. She was certain her words were pointed against Ada and her daughters.
Just to be ornery, Ada said, “So it would be fine if an inexperienced
married
woman wanted to join?”
“It seems to me it should be,” Jane said, loyal friend that she was.
“There should be some way to assure quality,” Florence insisted.
“Maybe we should test everyone with an interest to join,” suggested Polly quite seriously.
“I know I would have failed such a test when I joined you two years ago,” Louise said.
“And look at your work now!” said Jane triumphantly.
Indeed, L ouise, at only twenty-five, had done rather rough work at first, but even in the beginning it had been far better than Maggie’s.
“Girls should be learning to quilt at home, not here,” Polly said.
Hilda agreed. Ada saw the group splitting on the issue: Florence, Polly, and Hilda against opening up to younger members; Ada, Jane, and L ouise clearly on the other side. But Ada had seen old Mary Renolds nodding in response to comments made by Ada’s side.
“That is a very good point, Polly,” Emma Jean said, taking her stand with Florence and the others. “Also, we don’t have enough space around the frame as it is.”
“No one seems to mind taking turns,” Ada responded.
Nessa had not weighed in with any definite opinion. Ada hated to put shy Nessa on the spot, but she happened to know that her daughter Kendra, who was all but engaged to Boyd, also had an interest in joining the Circle. No doubt Nessa had remained silent not only because of her shyness but because Florence was a good friend of hers.
“Nessa, what do you think?” Ada asked.
Nessa’s cheeks pinked as all eyes swung toward her, but she didn’t shrink away. “Well, none of us is getting any younger, you know. . . .” Her eyes flickered toward Florence before she continued in an apologetic tone, “Well, we’re not! New blood couldn’t hurt.”
“We could be selective,” Louise said. “By invitation only.”
“And deal with the hurt feelings of those who feel left out?” Florence asked.
“I didn’t think of that.”Louise backed down.
“Ladies,” said Emma Jean, “if I remember right, this is where this same discussion left off two years ago. We all came together quite naturally because of our mutual love of stitching. That was a good ten years ago, wasn’t it? There were ten of us then, but Betsy and Margaret passed on, and that’s when L ouise filled one of the empty places. Nine has been a good number.”
“So someone has to die before someone new can join?” snapped Ada.
“I’ll accommodate you soon enough,” Mary said with a chuckle.
“You have taught me so much, Mary,” Ada said. “I wish my daughter could learn from you, as well.I sn’t one of the purposes of a group such as ours to spread our passion for stitching to others? We have done just that, with several young women now showing the same passion. Yet they are closed from joining us.” Ada couldn’t help if her voice trembled a little as she spoke, for even as the words came she realized how much this truly meant to her. At one time she thought the Sewing Circle was her little escape from home, a time for herself. But now she realized what a joy it would be to have her daughters involved.
“There is no need to get emotional,” Emma Jean said.
“I’m sorry,” Ada replied, not meaning it but trying to make peace.
“I suggest that we table this issue for a bit,” Emma Jean went on, sounding very presidential. “Let’s take a few weeks to think about it, and we can discuss it later.”
Much later, Ada thought sourly, probably never. Florence would see to that, especially since Mabel, as good a stitcher as she was, had no interest in the Circle. She was far too sophisticated for a simple country quilting bee.
Ada was quiet the rest of the afternoon. She ate little of the midday meal she had brought in Maggie’s old lunch pail. She was even silent about another topic of business she had wanted to mention. The quilting bee at her home to finish the pastor’s quilt had been so successful that many of the women had talked about making that a regular feature of the Circle, that is, to have two meetings a month, one on the second Sunday at the schoolhouse as always, and another at a home on a weekday.I t would be a way Ellie could attend when it was at their house simply because she was home. But Ada was afraid if she brought that up now, it would be put down by Florence and her cronies just for general purposes. She decided to wait to mention it until it had a better chance of succeeding.
When it was time to leave, Ada saw that Jane’s husband had not arrived to pick her up.
“Where’s Tom?” she asked.
“Oh, I walked today,” Jane said a little hesitantly, as if she didn’t want to admit it.
“Well, then, ride with me. We haven’t had a chance to visit for a long time.”
Jane climbed up next to Ada in the wagon seat, and they started up the road.I t was as fine a spring day as one could hope for in these parts. Blue sky, warm sun upon the skin, gentle breeze, sweet fragrances of new growth in the air.
“I’m still fuming over that Florence Parker!” Jane said.
“Sometimes I think she takes the opposite side of you just to be contrary.”
“That’s not the only reason,” Ada said.
“I know you two have a past, but that was years ago when you were girls.”
No one knew the whole story behind Ada and Florence’s rivalry. Jane knew a lot but not all, and Ada wanted to keep it that way. I t would do no one any good to dredge up the past. Ada had prayed about it and tried to find peace about it, at least with God, but she doubted there would ever be peace between her and Florence. Once she had tried to confront Florence, but she had refused to talk about it, practically denying there was anything wrong in the first place.I gnoring it was probably for the best.
“For a while during the discussion today,” Ada said, “I toyed with the idea of starting another sewing circle. But I just can’t do that. We have our differences, but there is still a deep bond of friendship between us all. And such a split might even cause a split in the church. That would be disastrous.”
“Maybe the young girls should start their own group.”
“I fear that would be just as divisive.”
“At least you don’t need the group to share your love of stitching with your daughters,” offered Jane. “How I wish I ’d had a daughter—” Her voice broke off suddenly. Ada glanced over at her friend and saw her dash a hand against the corner of her eye.
“What is it, Jane? Something has been troubling you all day.”
Jane sniffed. “I didn’t know it was still so close to the surface.I t is hard to have only one child and then to feel him slipping away.”
“Sons do grow apart from their families.”
“It is more than that, Ada. Before I left for the Circle this morning, Tom and Tommy had a huge fight. Tom is so hard on the boy, and the beatings don’t help. He is going to push Tommy away.I t used to be when Tommy was little that he’d run to me after his father . . . ah . . . disciplined him. Now, he goes off by himself. I . . . I think he blames me as much as his father.”
“That can’t be.” Ada glanced once more at her friend; then fearing to be distracted from the road, she reined in the horses and eased the wagon over to the side and stopped so they could talk more easily. “He probably just feels he is too old to run to his mother. You know how boys are.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m sure that’s it. I feel the same from Georgie, and he is younger than Tommy.”
“Ada, I’m’m afraid Tommy will run away!” Jane ended in a barely restrained sob.
Ada reached over and laid a comforting hand on Jane’s shoulder. She didn’t know what to say. Yes, she had felt a small gulf form between herself and her boys as they grew older, but never had she believed they would leave home prematurely. Once Boyd had indeed run away. He had been ten and mad when his father wouldn’t let him drive the wagon on an icy morning. He had been gone only a couple of hours, returning in time for lunch. Ada knew it was much different for young Tommy, who was treated so harshly by his father. Her heart went out to Jane.
“Has he said anything serious about running away?”
“No, but he goes off by himself more and more.I just know one day he won’t come back.”
“Perhaps our new minister can help. He is a young man and may be able to relate to Tommy’s troubles.”
“It is Tom who truly needs help. I have prayed for years that he would be saved.I pray for Tommy, too, but as much as Tommy hates his father, he also desires to imitate him. Maybe if Tom started coming to church, Tommy would imitate that as he now copies Tom’s bad habits.”
“You should speak to Reverend L ocklin when he gets back from his circuit.”
“Reverend McFarland tried to talk to Tom many times. Once, Tom went after the poor man with the shotgun. The minister stayed away after that.” Anguish filled Jane’s eyes. “I fear to draw the new minister into this.”
Ada had heard about the shotgun incident and knew Jane’s husband Tom could be meanspirited. Jane’s fears were not without reason. Many stories had circulated over the years about how Tom would pick fights with men in the St. Helens saloons, or how he’d cheated his neighbors one way or another. Once, he had tried to sell a horse to Calvin, insisting that it was a four-year-old when even a city fellow could see the animal had to be at least ten.
“If you told Reverend L ocklin all this,” Ada suggested, “then he could decide for himself how to approach the situation. He is trained in such matters. There would be no problem with him talking to Tommy, would there?”
“Tom barely tolerates me going to church,” Jane replied. “And I never know how he will respond to anything. But I do agree I need to talk to my pastor. This situation is beyond me.”
Zack rode at an easy pace, the sun warm upon his shoulders. He felt oddly contented as he steered his horse back to Maintown. He felt like he was going home. He’d been there only a week before setting out on his circuit, but there had been something about the Copeland home, about Mrs. Copeland’s warm and welcoming ways after she’d returned to take up her household duties, that had made Zack feel as though he belonged.
This was a new sensation for him. He’d never
belonged
anywhere, even in his ma’s house, especially after his stepfather had entered the scene. So rather than feel uncomfortable about the fact that this was not his but William L ocklin’s life, he decided to enjoy it while it lasted.
He thought back on the last few days of the circuit. He’d held a service on the second Sunday at Bachelor Flat, a mere hour’s ride from Maintown. He had met most of the folks the previous Sunday at Maintown, so he had set out alone and then returned to Maintown that same day. He departed on the next leg of the circuit the following Tuesday, accompanied by Calvin Newcomb. They made the journey in two days of easy riding. The ride with Calvin Newcomb to the Deer I sland station— which he’d learned wasn’t an island at all, though he never discovered the reason for the name—had been more pleasant than he had anticipated. Calvin was a simple, decent man, not a great talker but full of a quiet wisdom that made Zack envy the man’s sons. How would Zack have turned out if he’d had a father like Calvin?