“Thanks. That means a lot.”
They walked the next few blocks in easy quiet. As the marina came into view, Charlotte said, “So, how is Shane?”
“We’re not talking about him.”
Charlotte laughed. “Maybe not yet. The night is young.”
Lauren let out a groan as they turned the corner and it became apparent where they were heading. “Not the quilt shop again. Didn’t I see enough people yesterday at the shower?”
“It’s quilting night. You used to love it, remember? But don’t worry, it’s almost over. They’re having a speaker, a woman from Los Angeles who’s an expert at appliqué.”
“I can’t believe you, of all people, are taking me to quilting night. You always said how many quilts does one person need?” Lauren teased her.
“Well, I’m glad I took the classes. The sewing techniques came in handy when I got to medical school. Now I get to stitch people up.” She laughed at Lauren’s expression. “It’s fun.”
“It sounds disgusting,” she said with a shudder. “How do you stick a needle in someone’s skin?”
“Believe me, I do more disgusting things than that,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “But it’s the best job I’ve ever had. I love being a doctor.”
“You always liked taking care of people and
animals, anyone in pain. You get that from your mother, too.”
“Oh, please, do
not
say that.”
Lauren smiled. “Is your mom going to be here?”
“No, she has a cold, so she’s staying home tonight.”
“What about that pregnant girl you have living with you?” Lauren asked. “Mrs. Jenkins stopped by my house earlier to drop off a casserole, and she couldn’t wait to fill me in on Annie and the mystery of her baby’s father. I heard that the mayor is now the front runner.”
“Who knows?” Charlotte said.
There was an odd note in Charlotte’s voice, and Lauren stopped abruptly. “You know something.
Is
it the mayor?”
“I have no idea,” Charlotte said. “Annie won’t tell me. I don’t know why she’s protecting the father—if she’s scared, or if she believes it will ruin his life. I think he should be involved or at least informed, but I can’t force it.”
Lauren had a feeling Charlotte knew a lot more than she was saying. But while she’d always been happy to gossip about little things, she could be trusted with the big secrets.
“I wish everyone would stop talking about her,” Charlotte continued. “She’s just a mixed-up teenager who had a terrible childhood. Her father is a mentally disabled war veteran who’s fighting his own private war up in the mountains, and she has no other family support. Someone needed to step in and
help, so I did.”
That was Charlotte, Lauren thought—always willing to step in. Even now she was dragging Lauren out of the house, intent on making sure she felt a part of the town again.
A minute later they entered the quilt shop. A group of younger girls was sewing in the first-floor classroom, but the rest of the action was on the second floor. The room had been set up like a classroom tonight, with tables and sewing machines and a demonstration going on at the front of the room. They paused in the back to listen.
Nina Stamish, a middle-aged brunette dressed in a bright green dress with a colorfully embroidered vest, was discussing the latest technique in embroidery stitching using a computer software program.
“As you can see on the screen,” Nina said, motioning toward the screen behind her, “this program can help you design your stitching before you get near the fabric. The appliqué pieces are displayed and then the embroidery design is placed within the shape. The computer makes it easy for you to mirror the images throughout the piece. Once you’re satisfied, you save it on your USB stick or hook up your computer directly to your sewing machine. The software will then tell your sewing machine what to stitch.”
“Wow, things have changed a lot since we used to handstitch,” Lauren muttered to Charlotte. The quilt that Nina was creating was a piece of art.
As Nina finished her presentation, Fiona Murray, the eighty-five-year-old owner of the quilt shop, and Shane’s grandmother, stepped forward. Fiona still had the fiery red hair of her youth and was the grand dame of quilting in Angel’s Bay.
“Nina will stay and answer questions,” she said. “Those of you who are going to work on the Angel’s Bay quilt can gather around the table in the back. Otherwise, we’ll see the rest of you next week.”
“Who’s working on the Angel’s Bay quilt?” Lauren asked suspiciously. “And you’d better not say us.”
“Not us—you,” Charlotte replied with a grin. “I’m not related to the original twenty-four.”
“I haven’t quilted in years. I don’t even remember how.”
“Sure you do.” Charlotte headed toward the table where a dozen women had gathered. Fabric blocks in varying stages of construction were spread across the top, all replicas of the original Angel’s Bay story quilt.
“I can’t believe Charlotte got you here,” Kara said, disbelief in her eyes. “I was sure you’d say no.”
“She didn’t tell me we were coming here, or that we were sewing,” Lauren replied.
Kara motioned to the chair next to her. “Have a seat. You can work on the Jamison block.” She pushed a scrap of fabric in Lauren’s direction.
Lauren stared down at the design. She’d done this before a hundred times, usually assisting her
mother. Along with the butterfly soaring through two gold rings, the letters L and T were entwined, standing for Leonora and Tommy and their endless love. She’d enjoyed quilting in the past, imagining Tommy and Leonora’s love affair as she stitched their letters.
She
did
have a soft spot for their romantic story, and she was the one who’d wanted to carry on the family tradition. Abby had only worked on the quilt a few times, most of them under duress from their mother.
“It will be fun, Lauren,” Charlotte said with encouragement.
Kara gave her a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Lauren.”
“Of course she wants to,” Fiona Murray interrupted. The matriarch of the Murray family had an iron will, and no one crossed her. Her blue eyes glinted with steel as she gazed down at Lauren. “It’s your duty, dear. You must carry on the family tradition. Your father would be very proud if you did.”
“I’m not sure I remember how,” she prevaricated, knowing that her hesitation was futile.
“You will, once you pick the needle up,” Fiona said. Her eyes softened briefly. “How is your mother, dear? We miss her around here.”
“She’s well.”
“And happy?”
“Yes,” Lauren said.
“She deserves to be, after the terrible tragedy that befell your family. It’s nice to have you back. Your
father has been lonely these past years.”
“His choice,” Lauren said shortly, unwilling to allow her father to be the victim.
“One I suspect he regrets,” Fiona said.
“I’m not sure that he does, but it’s done.”
“Yes, we can only look forward, not backward.” Fiona drew in a breath and looked at her assembled workers. “All right, ladies, let’s get to work.”
“What are you going to do?” Lauren asked Charlotte, who was leaning against the counter next to them.
“I’m going to have a drink.” Charlotte pulled a bottle of red wine out of her bag. “And supervise.”
“Charlotte, put that wine away,” Fiona Murray said sharply, her eagle eye not missing a thing. “No liquids near this quilt. You can help Jenna with her square. We don’t need idle hands at this table.”
Charlotte put the wine away. “Yes, ma’am,” she said meekly.
Lauren smiled. They were all in their thirties, but Fiona still treated them like they were teenagers. Charlotte sat down next to Jenna Davies and soon they were all involved with the task at hand.
It was amazing how quickly the quilting came back to her. Threading the newer sewing machines took a little time to learn, but within minutes she was on her way. There was a certain peace that came with quilting, and as the conversation flowed around her, Lauren relaxed, taking pleasure in the work and enjoying the camaraderie of working on a shared project.
The quilt had brought the original survivors together, had given them a chance to connect, to grieve, to start over, and through the quilt to tell the stories of their loved ones, their shattered families. The quilting had helped them to move on and today, some hundred and fifty years after that first quilt had been sewn, it was helping Lauren to heal. She’d turned her back on Angel’s Bay and everything and everyone in it. She’d been filled with so much hate and rage that she couldn’t see anything good, but there was a lot of good here. There always had been.
She was the last to finish. “Does it look horrible?” Lauren asked Kara. “Am I a disgrace to the Jamison women who have come before me?”
Kara inspected the square. “It’s great. The stitching is very even. You did a wonderful job. You haven’t forgotten a thing.”
“I hope it passes your grandmother’s inspection. She demands perfection,” Lauren said.
“Actually, when it comes to quilting, my grandmother prefers handstitching and a lot of love over machine sewing. She brings the modern techniques to the town because the business has to keep growing, but the fact that you made this square and that you’re a Jamison means everything to her.”
“So now we celebrate,” Charlotte said, pouring Lauren a glass of wine. Everyone else had left, including Fiona, who’d told Kara to lock up when they were ready to go.
“I’m so jealous,” Kara said with a yearning
glance. “Apple cider is not doing it for me tonight. And by the way, Charlotte, I’m mad at you.”
“What did I do?” Charlotte asked in surprise.
“You did not tell me how horrible childbirth is. I went to the birthing class tonight, and the movie was quite an eye-opener. I don’t want to have this baby anymore.”
Charlotte grinned. “Too late for that kind of thinking.”
“It was horrifying. I thought Jason was going to pass out,” Kara added.
“Jason?” Lauren cut in, surprised to hear his name again. “Jason Marlow?”
“Yes, he stood in for my mother. She’s supposed to be my coach until Colin wakes up. But she got sick, and I wasn’t going to go, but Jason pushed me to do it,” Kara explained. “I think he’s sorry now. Childbirth is a little on the disgusting side, I have to say.”
“Wait until you have that beautiful baby in your arms,” Charlotte said. “It will all be worth it.”
“You have to say that; you’re the doctor.”
“You and Jason have been friends for a long time, haven’t you?” Lauren asked.
Kara nodded. “He was Colin’s best friend growing up. Mine, too.” Her brows knit together in a frown. “Jason said that there are some rumors going around about him and Abby.”
“Did he have a relationship with my sister?” Lauren asked.
“He said they were friends. Wouldn’t Abby have
told you if she liked him, Lauren? You were close. You shared a room.”
“We weren’t that close in the months before her death. I was thinking about graduation, and I got caught up in my own romance. I didn’t pay much attention to her. She was always with Lisa, and they were two years younger. They had their own friends.” Lauren shook her head. “You don’t know how many times I wish I’d done things differently that year.”
“I know you blame yourself, but you can’t,” Kara said quietly. “Sometimes bad things just happen.”
Lauren knew Kara wasn’t talking just about Abby, but also about Colin, and she felt a little guilty for being so absorbed in her own problems. “You’re right, of course. So how are you feeling tonight?”
Kara sighed. “Tired, but happy to be with old friends. The birthing class was tough to get through, and not just because of the gross movie. Doing it with Jason and not Colin felt so wrong. But this was a rehearsal, not the real thing. Colin will be there when the baby comes. I’m sure of that.” She cleared her throat. “And getting back to Jason, I think he would have told me if he was involved with Abby in high school. Although I must admit my attention at the time was mostly on Colin.”
“That’s for sure. You two were attached at the hip.” Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with mischief as
she refilled Lauren’s glass as well as her own. “So, here’s a question, Kara, since we’re taking a trip down memory lane. Did you have sex with Colin in high school?”
“Hey, that’s a little personal,” Kara protested.
“And I’m a little buzzed, so answer the question.”
Kara looked around the room as if she were afraid her mother or grandmother might be lurking somewhere, but they were alone.
“Is it really that big of a secret now?” Charlotte asked. “You’re almost thirty years old, and you
did
marry the guy.”
“You first, Charlie,” Kara said. “You and Andrew? Did you do the wild thing?”
Charlotte’s smile widened. “Yes, but only once. Three days later, Andrew did it with Pamela the Slut—at the beach—at a party I was at.”
“I hope you didn’t actually see them,” Lauren interjected.
“I caught the previews.”
“That sucks,” Kara said. “I didn’t know he was such a jerk.”
“He was a teenage boy,” Charlotte said. “And he was hot. I was mad for him.”
“Now he’s a minister,” Lauren put in. “Who would have thought?”
“Certainly not me,” Charlotte replied. “He’s good, too. I think he’s found his purpose in life.”
Lauren wondered if Charlotte still had a thing for
Andrew. First love was tough to shake, as she knew only too well. “You’re making light of it now, but you must have been hurt when Andrew cheated on you.”
“I was devastated,” Charlotte admitted. “That beach party is one big painful blur in my mind. I was drunk. I was angry. I was stupid.”
“What does that mean?” Kara asked curiously. “Did something else happen?”
“As if I could remember? I had tequila amnesia.”
“What about now?” Lauren asked. “Are you going to give Andrew another chance? Obviously he’s cleaned up his act.”
“I don’t think so, and not because of Pamela. There are other reasons.”
“Like what?” Lauren prodded.
“Yeah, like what?” Kara echoed.
Charlotte frowned. “I can’t see myself as the girlfriend or the wife of the minister. It’s not just that, though. I’m flattered by Andrew’s attention, but I think it’s because I’m easy.” She stopped short. “Whoa, that didn’t come out right. I meant I’m easy for him to be with, because I know his past. He feels comfortable with me, and deep down he’s still insecure about being the spiritual leader of a town that remembers him as a kid. With me, he doesn’t have to be anyone but himself.”