Round Robin (37 page)

She never would have dreamed that she would one day be able to quilt like Sylvia, either, but she had learned. Sylvia had tried to teach her, but when those lessons failed miserably, Claudia finished the job. Now Claudia was gone, and Sylvia would soon join her. Once again, Agnes would be alone.

She took a deep breath to fight off the tears. It wouldn't do to break down when Sylvia needed her friends to be strong. Then she remembered the round robin center in her sewing box. Yes, that was what she needed, something to keep her busy so she would stop glancing at the
clock and wondering why the nurse hadn't been back with news of Sylvia in such a long while.

The other Elm Creek Quilters, who had been so eager to see her center design, barely noticed as she took out the round robin quilt and began to work. She had strip-pieced a background for her appliqué, with varying shades of blue for the sky and green for the grass. After trimming this piece into a large circle, she had sewn pieces of gray and white onto it, creating a portrait of Elm Creek Manor in fabric. A scrap of black cotton became the rearing horse fountain in the front of the manor, and a narrow strip of blue was the creek in the distance. Now she was adding the final touch: a grove of trees at the northeast corner of the manor, where the cornerstone patio was, where the main entrance to the manor had been before the south wing was built in Richard's father's day.

Richard had told her so much of the manor's history—how Hans Bergstrom had placed the cornerstone with the help of his sister and wife, how the manor had served as a station on the Underground Railroad, how the estate had flourished over the years, and how it had sometimes faltered. Once he mentioned that the north garden was a perfect spot for a wedding, and once that the ballroom in the south wing could accommodate several hundred guests. His hints thrilled her, but she had other ideas. When she married, it would be in a proper church, and the reception afterward would take place in her parents' home. They would insist upon it. As far as Agnes was concerned, if she did somehow manage to convince her parents to accept Richard, she would let her mother do whatever she wanted for the wedding in gratitude.

As it turned out, neither Agnes nor Richard had the wedding they had imagined.

His proposal and the ensuing ceremony took place over a span of a few short days in March of the following year, 1944. Richard had returned to Elm Creek Manor for his school holidays, but this time she did not accompany him. Instead she waved good-bye from the platform as his train pulled out of the station, then she returned home with her brother, who had accompanied them at Mrs. Chevalier's insistence.

The next time she saw Richard was several days before he was actually due back. It was mid-morning, and he had come straight to the front door instead of throwing pebbles at her window and signaling her to meet him outside. Her mother's voice was frosty as she informed Agnes she had a caller waiting in the drawing room.

Agnes's heart pounded as she went downstairs. Her mother's tone told her it was Richard waiting—but why? What was he doing back so soon? Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

When she entered the room where Richard waited, he was pacing back and forth, hair tousled, face flushed, eyes bright with excitement. She was too startled to speak, but he looked her way at the sound of the door. He crossed the room swiftly and seized her hands. “Agnes, I have something to ask you.” He dropped to one knee. “I love you with all my heart, and I know you love me, too. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Agnes stared at him. Why was he asking her now? He knew she was just sixteen. He knew he ought to ask her father first, and not for years yet. Why—

Then she understood. He and Andrew—all their bold talk about enlisting—

Her legs were suddenly too weak to support her, but Richard helped her to a chair. “Please—” she choked out. “Please—”

He smiled, but there were tears in his eyes. “You don't have to beg, darling. I've already proposed.”

She wanted to strike him for joking at such a time. She hated him. She loved him so fiercely she could never let him leave her. “Please tell me you didn't enlist. Please tell me you're not asking me this because you're going off to war in the morning.”

“Not in the morning.” His face was close to hers. He stroked her hair gently. “I have two weeks.”

Her chest tightened up with sobs, so many that she thought they would tear her throat open. But she swallowed them back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Unsteadily, she rose from her chair. “Will you excuse me, please?”

“But Agnes—”

“I'm going to seek my parents' blessing.” Without waiting for a reply, she left the drawing room. Her mother was in her sitting room writing letters.

Agnes took a seat beside her and waited for her mother to look up. She refused to acknowledge her daughter's presence, to punish her for the undesirable caller. Agnes wondered what punishment her mother would contrive for what she was about to say, and realized it didn't matter. Nothing could hurt her more than the thought of Richard's going off to war.

Finally her mother looked up. “Yes, dear, what is it?”

“Richard Bergstrom has asked me to marry him. I would like to have your blessing, and Father's.”

Her mother's face went white in fury, but her voice was perfectly controlled. “Absolutely not.” She resumed writing, and nearly tore the paper with her pen. “If you're not pleased with the young Mr. Cameron we'll find someone else suitable for you, but you shall decline Mr. Bergstrom's proposal and instruct him never again to speak of it.”

Agnes felt as if she were watching the scene play out from a great distance. “No,” she heard herself say. “I shall not decline.”

Her mother slammed down her pen. “You shall. You have no choice. You are too young. Do you really believe any judge within two hundred miles of here would allow a Chevalier daughter to marry under such suspicious circumstances?” Her voice was high and shrill. “They value their livelihoods too dearly for that, I assure you. Not one of them has any wish to be the man who allows a disobedient child to destroy the Chevalier family's good name.”

Agnes grew very still. For the first time she saw her mother clearly, without fear. Agnes held the power now, and her mother was the frightened one. No matter what happened next, Agnes would never submit to her mother again. She was free.

“Richard has enlisted. He leaves in two weeks.” Each word was as cold and distinct as if it had been chiseled in marble. “I will spend every moment between now and his departure by his side—every day and every
night. I would prefer to do so as his wife, but I will do so as his mistress if necessary. Since you are so concerned with the Chevalier family's good name, perhaps you should consider carefully whether you truly wish to withhold your blessing.”

Her mother stared at her for a long moment, breathing rapidly, clutching the desktop. “Your father will never agree,” she managed to say.

“You will convince him.”

Agnes was correct; her mother did make him see reason. But he gave Agnes one condition. “If you marry that man,” he roared, “you leave this house forever. You will be dead to us.”

His words shocked her into silence. She could only stare at him, the man she had always admired and loved so deeply. He thought she had betrayed him, and perhaps she had.

She thought of Richard, and how he might not return from the war. She might have two weeks with him, two weeks in exchange for a lifetime with her family.

She was her father's favorite daughter, and yet he could cut her out of his life with a word.

She wanted to ask her father if he meant it, but that would have been foolish. Her father never said anything he didn't mean. She wanted to beg him to reconsider, but her father never backed down from an ultimatum.

So she spoke from the heart. “I will miss you all very much,” she said. Then she returned to the drawing room to tell Richard she would be his wife.

They had a simple civil ceremony. Andrew was one witness, one of Agnes's school friends was the other. Agnes had wanted her sisters, but she could not ask them to defy their parents.

Later that day, James and Harold arrived, too late to stop Richard and Andrew from enlisting. James decided to enlist so that he would be in the same unit as his brother-in-law. Harold reluctantly said he would as well.

Agnes thought it was madness. “Don't do it,” she had begged them. She clung to James's arm. “Please. Think of Sylvia.”

Gently, James freed himself. “I am thinking of Sylvia,” he said, and then he and Harold left.

Agnes was not comforted by the knowledge that James and Harold would be looking after Richard on the battlefield. Their selflessness and courage would not stop a bullet. They should have tried to free Richard from his enlistment, not join him in it. It was madness. Utter madness. And she alone seemed to see it.

They returned to Elm Creek Manor together for a few bleak days of grievous good-byes. Harold proposed to Claudia, but they did not rush off and marry as Agnes and Richard had done, as so many other young couples had done. They wanted to wait until after the men returned so they could do it right. Agnes marveled at their certainty that they would have that chance.

And then, all too soon, the men departed.

Of the four, only Andrew and Harold returned.

Agnes's hands trembled, and she stuck herself with the needle. She dropped the quilt as soon as she felt the pain, but she was not fast enough. A small drop of blood now stained the back of the block, a smear of red leaking through the gray fabric of the manor.

She shivered.

“Let me help you,” Bonnie said. She took the quilt and carried it over to the drinking fountain.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Andrew asked.

“Only a little needle prick,” Agnes said, but Carol had already taken her hand and was examining her finger. There was a tiny drop of blood on the pad of her left index finger. Carol insisted on taking her to the bathroom to wash the pinprick with soap and water. Then Carol carefully applied antibiotic ointment and a bandage, all from the small first aid kit she kept in her purse.

“What do you do for a cough?” Diane asked when they returned to the waiting room. “A lung transplant?”

The Elm Creek Quilters smiled, but no one had the heart to laugh.

“It's better to be safe than sorry,” Carol said.

“She's right,” a voice broke in. “Hospitals are the worst places for picking up germs. I read that somewhere.”

It was Sarah who had spoken. They all turned to look at her. As far as
Agnes knew, those were the first words she had spoken since arriving at the hospital.

“Then I'm fortunate Carol was here,” Agnes said gently, returning to her seat.

Bonnie handed her the quilt center. “The stain came out, but I'm afraid it's a little damp.”

“That's all right. I'll finish when it's dry.” All that was left was a tiny bit of the last tree, and then she could stitch the design in place in the center of the round robin quilt her friends had made. She tried not to, but in the back of her mind she wondered if Sylvia would ever see the completed quilt hanging in the front foyer to welcome the new quilt campers.

The quilt campers.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “It's Sunday.”

Her friends exchanged looks of weary dismay, and she could tell they had forgotten, too.

Gwen said, “We'll have to call everyone and tell them camp is canceled this week.”

“We can't do that,” Judy said. “It's already nine o'clock. If they're driving a long distance, they might have left already.”

“And those who are flying already paid for their airline tickets,” Bonnie added.

“Can't you refund their costs?” Andrew asked. “If you tell them what happened, they'll understand.”

“No.” Sarah sat up and looked around at her friends. “We can't do that. We have to hold camp as planned.”

Silence.

“Maybe you're right,” Diane said. “That's what Sylvia would have wanted.”

Sarah whirled on her, furious. “That's what Sylvia would
want.
”

Chastened, Diane looked away.

Summer stood up. “Sarah's right. We can't let Sylvia think we'll fall apart if she doesn't watch us every minute. I'll go back to the manor and start setting up.”

Gwen chimed in that she would join her daughter, and soon it was
agreed: Agnes, Andrew, Sarah, Carol, and Matt would remain at the hospital; the others would return to Elm Creek Manor to await the arrival of their newest guests.

“Call us as soon as you hear anything,” Judy urged, and Agnes promised they would.

A strange silence hung over the waiting room after their friends left. Matt went to the hospital cafeteria and returned with steaming cups of coffee and warm muffins. Agnes accepted a cup of coffee gratefully, but her stomach was in knots and she knew she wouldn't be able to choke down a bite of food. The heat from the cup soothed some of the chill out of her hands.

Sarah was right, Agnes knew. No matter what happened to Sylvia, they couldn't let Elm Creek Quilts fall to pieces. It would be an insult to Sylvia, a betrayal, if they let her dream die. She needed to know that the life and joy she had restored to the manor would endure.

Sylvia blamed herself for Elm Creek Manor's downfall—and the Bergstrom family's decline—as if her departure had been the one killing blow that had ended it all. But Agnes knew the end had not come with such merciful swiftness. The Bergstrom legacy had ground to a halt over time in a way that was unbearable to witness. But Agnes had witnessed it. When Sylvia was far away, living first in Maryland with James's parents and later in Pittsburgh alone, Agnes had remained behind, and she saw it all.

There had been so many arguments between the two sisters. It was only later that Agnes learned how that last argument had differed from all the others. At the time, Sylvia's departure had shaken Agnes, but neither she nor Claudia ever dreamed Sylvia would stay away so long.