The Giving Quilt (34 page)

Not if Karen had anything to say about it.

She waited until she was fairly sure the boys would be awake before calling home. Nate sounded cheerful but harried, so she gave them all her love and bade them good-bye so he could get the boys to school and head off to campus. She showered and dressed and met her friends for breakfast—Belgian waffles with real whipped cream and cranberry-apple compote, sheer heaven.

And then she and the other students gathered in the classroom for their final Giving Quilt lesson.

After confirming that everyone in the class had finished quilting her Giving Quilt top—or tops, in Pauline's case—Gretchen walked them through the process of creating the binding. First she instructed them to cut a large square of the same fabric they had used for their outer border. “Unless you want a contrasting binding,” she added after giving them the proper measurements and borrowing a piece of fabric from Pauline, who had volunteered one of her quilts for the demonstration. “That's perfectly fine too. It's an artistic choice you're each free to make on your own.” She then demonstrated how to cut the square in half diagonally from corner to corner to make two identical triangles, which she sewed together to form an offset tube. Karen had made so many bindings in her brief, precious career at String Theory that she could whip one up almost without measuring, and she easily kept pace with Gretchen as she showed how to cut the asymmetrical tube into a long, narrow, bias binding strip.

Moving to an ironing station, Gretchen folded the long binding strip in half, wrong sides facing inward, and pressed it to fix the crease. “Doubling over the strip increases its durability,” she explained. “That's important because the edges of a quilt—especially a quilt made for a child—experience so much wear and tear.”

She then carried the binding to the front sewing machine, where one of Pauline's quilts waited, and as the students watched in the overhead mirror, she sewed the binding strip to the top of the quilt all around the edges, mitering the binding at the corners. Eagerly the students followed suit, invigorated by the sense that they were nearly finished, that they had accomplished so much that nothing short of a total power outage could prevent them from meeting their deadline.

Gretchen strolled through the classroom, lending a helping hand where needed, offering praise everywhere. When every student had completed the step, she returned to the front of the room. “Now you have a choice to finish binding your quilt either by hand or by machine,” she said. “I'll teach you both methods, and you can use the one you like best.”

The first step was the same for both styles, she explained, showing them how to fold the binding strip over the raw edges of the quilt and pin it in place. “If you prefer to sew by hand,” she continued, “you can pin a few inches of binding at a time, blind-stitch or whipstitch the binding to the back of the quilt, and move the pins ahead of you as you go along.” She taught them both stitches, using thread that matched the binding fabric. Her needle moved slowly and meticulously through the bias strip and quilt backing without poking through to the top, and when she drew the thread all the way through, the binding lay flat and smooth against the quilt backing, the stitches nearly invisible.

“I personally prefer to sew my bindings to the back of the quilt by hand.” Gretchen sewed a few more inches before tying a knot, trimming off the trailing threads, and poking her needle into a pincushion. “If time is of the essence, however, you can also complete the binding by machine.”

Taking a full box of pins from her basket, Gretchen folded the bias strip over the raw edges of the quilt the entire length of one side and pinned them in place, mitering the strip when she reached the corner. “You should pin the binding in place on all four sides,” she said. “I'm doing only one because this is only a demonstration, and I think Pauline would like to finish her quilt herself.”

“No, that's okay,” said Pauline. “Feel free to do as much as you like. For demonstration purposes, of course. Not because I'm lazy.”

Gretchen laughed along with the rest of the class as she slipped the edge of the quilt beneath the presser foot of her sewing machine. She aligned the needle with the “ditch” between the quilt top and the seam where the bias strip was attached to the front of the quilt, and sewed down the entire length of the quilt, removing the pins before they went beneath the needle. When she reached the corner, she backstitched, tied off the thread, and removed the quilt from the sewing machine. “If you've prepared your binding, pinned, and sewed properly,” she said, showing them the back of the quilt, “you'll find that you've sewed through all of the layers and caught the edge of the binding on the back. If you've missed any small sections—and we've all made that mistake at one time or another—you can simply repin and resew those places.”

A murmur of excitement passed through the classroom, making Karen suspect that the binding-by-machine technique was new to even the more experienced quilters present. Several of her classmates were obviously eager to give it a try, judging by how quickly they dug into their tote bags and sewing baskets for their pins. Others, including Jocelyn, took out needles for hand sewing and carefully chose threads that best matched their bias strip fabric. The class was already dividing, Gretchen noted wistfully, an early herald of the end of Quiltsgiving, when they would all go their separate ways.

Like Gretchen, Karen too preferred to sew her bindings by hand, but instead of joining Jocelyn's group around the back table, she carried her Giving Quilt to the seat in the front row beside Pauline, smiling at her new friend as she sat down and got to work.

She would finish binding her quilt more quickly if she used the sewing machine, and that would give her more time to help her classmates.

She couldn't fix everything wrong in the world—for that matter, she could barely keep her own life sorted out—but she would help where she could, knowing that every stitch made a difference.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Giving Quilters

O
n Saturday morning, Sylvia, Sarah, Maggie, and Gretchen woke early to prepare a special Farewell Breakfast for their guests, choosing one of their favorite menus from the recipe binder Anna had compiled for them before she moved away. The other Elm Creek Quilters arrived in time to help arrange the buffet table with platters of eggs baked in ham cups, raspberry-mocha crêpes, blintzes topped with smoked salmon and crème fraiche, Greek yogurt parfaits with almonds and dried cherries, whole wheat sunflower-seed bread, maple-cured bacon, and broiled grapefruit with vanilla-ginger sauce, as well as carafes of coffee, tea, and a variety of juices. The Quiltsgiving campers seemed to savor every bite and every last precious moment spent in the company of new friends.

After breakfast, Sylvia invited everyone to accompany her to the ballroom, where they had spent so many pleasant, industrious hours together. They gathered around the fireplace for another Elm Creek Quilts tradition, show-and-tell. Their mood was quiet and nostalgic, and Sylvia could read their thoughts on their faces: They missed their families back home, but Quiltsgiving had fulfilled their fondest wishes and exceeded every expectation, and they couldn't bear to see the week come to an end. They were surely wondering whether they would ever enjoy another time such as this, another week full of perfect moments. Sylvia hoped they understood that they could return next Quiltsgiving, next summer, and every year thereafter if they wished, to find inspiration, respite, and opportunities for giving within the strong, gray stone walls of Elm Creek Manor.

After everyone settled down before the crackling fire, each quilter displayed the quilts she had made for Project Linus and shared her favorite memory of Quiltsgiving. Even their newest quilters proudly showed off the Giving Quilts they had created in Gretchen's class and received well-deserved praise and encouragement. The stories each quilter shared of the moments she would cherish when their week together was but a memory sent the campers into gales of laughter and sometimes made them blink away tears.

“My favorite memory is reuniting with my sister, of course,” said Linnea after she held up a perfectly lovely Giving Quilt made in shades of blue, yellow, and very light cream, as well as a Girl's Joy quilt in pretty pink-and-green florals.

“Mine too,” her sister Mona chimed in, showing off a Giving Quilt in adorable pastels—her very first quilt, if Sylvia was not mistaken, and a fine one at that.

Next the youngest quilter in the circle, the pretty blond student named Michaela, held up a Giving Quilt made in red, black, and white, which seemed to be her favorite color combination judging by her apparel and luggage. “My favorite part of this week, in addition to sewing quilts for the kids and making new friends, was starting my Giving Journal,” Michaela said. “I don't think I've given enough thought to how I give to others throughout the day and how grateful I am for the people in my life. I've been keeping the journal for only a few days, but it's already encouraged me to be more aware. I'm going to make it a lifelong habit.”

Sylvia caught Gretchen's eye and gave her an approving nod. The Giving Journals were Gretchen's idea, and they had caught on so well that Sylvia had considered making one of her own. Perhaps she should not wait until next Quiltsgiving to begin.

Pauline, the dark-haired quilter from Georgia, held up two beautiful quilts she had made in Gretchen's class. “I fell far short of my goal of five quilts for the week, but I'm very happy with these two,” she said. “As for my favorite memory of Quiltsgiving, I'm going to copy Michaela”—the two exchanged a look and a laugh as if sharing an inside joke—“and say that making new friends is right up there. I also want to especially single out a particularly enlightening conversation I had with my new friend Karen.”

Sylvia gave Sarah a significant look across the circle, and Sarah returned a thoughtful nod. Throughout the week, they had overheard campers praising Karen's helpfulness and generosity. The Elm Creek Quilters had compared notes as they prepared breakfast that morning, and all had agreed that Sylvia should speak with her alone before she departed. Pauline's remark only strengthened Sylvia's conviction that she and Karen ought to have a little chat.

Karen herself spoke next. “I'm very glad I returned to Elm Creek Manor to celebrate Quiltsgiving. I didn't realize how much I needed a getaway. Now I feel rested, refreshed, and ready to go home and face the challenges awaiting me there.” She held up her Giving Quilt, a delightful, scrappy confection of primary colors. “As for my favorite memory, it has to be getting to know so many of you as we worked together. It reminded me anew of how much I love teaching, and collaborating, and spending time in the company of creative people working together for a common purpose. We can do so much more together than we can alone.”

All around the circle, her companions nodded, some regarding her thoughtfully, others turning their gazes inward, as if contemplating challenges in their own lives.

“This is my first quilt,” Jocelyn began, holding up a lovely Giving Quilt pieced from blue, orange, and light tan reproduction fabrics. “I have so many wonderful memories of this week that it's almost impossible to single out one. For me, what's more important than memories are the other things I'll take home with me—new friendships and lessons learned.”

Sylvia knew from the warmth in Jocelyn's voice that she meant something even more significant than what she had learned in Gretchen's quilting classes.

As each quilter took her turn displaying her handiwork and sharing her memories, Sylvia and the Elm Creek Quilters looked on proudly from outside the circle, honored by the guiding roles they had played in each woman's journey.

After the last quilter had spoken, the Elm Creek Quilters gathered up the more than thirty quilts their guests had made that week. “On behalf of Project Linus, please accept my heartfelt thanks for your donations,” said Gretchen, smiling at everyone in the circle. “I promise you, all of your quilts will find loving homes.”

“And on behalf of all the Elm Creek Quilters, I thank each and every one of you for joining us for Quiltsgiving,” Sylvia added. “I trust that you'll continue to experience the joys of giving in this holiday season and throughout the New Year—and I hope you'll visit us again soon.”

With those closing words, a hush fell over the circle, and someone sighed. Every quilter had taken her turn to share her handiwork and her memories. Quiltsgiving was over, and it was time to say good-bye.

As the campers reluctantly rose from their chairs and left the fireside, Sylvia approached Karen and touched her on the arm. “I beg your pardon, dear,” she said. “May I have a word?”

When Karen nodded, Sylvia took her aside and waited until the other campers had moved out of earshot. “I understand that since we last met, you've taken a job at a quilt shop.”

“That's right,” Karen replied, visibly surprised that Sylvia knew. “I've been working at the String Theory Quilt Shop in Summit Pass for several years now.”

“Oh, yes, I know the place. Such a charming little town. Have you ever been to the Wise Owl Teahouse?”

Karen smiled. “Many times. There's a table by the window I think of as my very own. I have you to thank for my new career, you know.”

“Is that so?”

“Don't you remember? You explained that the reason I wasn't hired here was that I didn't have any experience teaching quilting.” Suddenly Karen looked pained. “Unless that was just a polite excuse.”

“No, no, dear, of course not,” Sylvia assured her, patting her on the arm. “That was the real reason. Your understanding of the spirit of Elm Creek Quilts surpassed that of all our other candidates. I certainly don't mean this as any slight against the ladies we did hire, but if you had taught even a single quilting class, you would have been at the top of my list. Am I correct to assume that you've acquired teaching experience since you've been working at String Theory?”

“Yes,” said Karen, a strange hesitancy in her voice. “I teach quite a lot, actually, and I love it.”

“I wonder, then, if you'd be interested in providing me with an updated résumé?” When Karen's eyes went wide, Sylvia continued, “Do you remember Bonnie Markham? She's a founding Elm Creek Quilter, and she was present at your interview.”

“Yes, I remember her. Short, dark hair, loved folk art and homespuns?”

Sylvia nodded. “That's our Bonnie. A few years ago she helped launch a new quilters' retreat on Maui, and since then, she's been spending her winters teaching at Aloha Quilt Camp in Lahaina.”

“How wonderful,” said Karen. “Wait until I tell Pauline that quilting on the beach isn't just a dream job but a viable career option.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It's a long story. Never mind.”

“If you say so,” Sylvia said with a laugh. “Well, along the way Bonnie fell in love with a perfectly wonderful Hawaiian gentleman. They're going to be married next month, and after that, she plans to live on Maui year round rather than returning to teach for us in the spring and summer.”

“I suppose you can hardly blame her,” said Karen. “Pennsylvania is lovely, and Elm Creek Manor is especially so, but Hawaii is—well, Hawaii.”

“It is difficult to compete with paradise,” Sylvia agreed, “especially when it's your sweetheart's childhood home. We'll miss Bonnie terribly. Her absence leaves an empty place in our hearts—and on our faculty. I don't suppose you'd be interested in giving us another try?”

Karen stared at her for a long, silent moment. “Did someone put you up to this?”

“Goodness, no.”

“I don't mean as a joke. I mean, did someone ask you to offer me a job?”

“Of course not. Who would do such a thing?”

Instead of answering, Karen shook her head. “I—I'm thrilled and flattered—and I admit, a little stunned—”

“More than a little, it would seem,” said Sylvia, amused. “But do send me an updated résumé when you get home, won't you, dear? My friends and I are very interested in what you've accomplished since your previous visit to Elm Creek Manor. We do hope to welcome you—and your sons—back soon.”

Karen nodded, speechless.

Sylvia thanked her and patted her arm again for good measure, hoping she hadn't dumbfounded the younger woman so much that it would be unsafe for her to drive home.

The ballroom had all but emptied by then, as the campers returned to their suites to finish packing and to bid their newfound friends sad good-byes. They carried suitcases and tote bags downstairs, Sarah collected room keys, and Matt loaded luggage into the Elm Creek Quilts minivan for the first shuttle ride to the bus station and airport. Sylvia made sure to bid everyone a fond farewell and to thank them for coming. The twins joined her, when they weren't busy playing, and Sylvia saw James give Linnea a picture he had drawn of a library with towers of books piled up to the ceiling. Linnea thanked him and assured him she would hang it in a place of honor above her desk in the library where she worked.

Gradually the upstairs halls fell silent, the back parking lot emptied.

The Elm Creek Quilters collected linens, emptied trash, discovered forgotten items under beds or in drawers. They broke for a simple lunch of soup and sandwiches, which they enjoyed in the cozy warmth of the kitchen, reminiscing about the week and Quiltsgivings past, sharing amusing stories about their favorite campers and unexpected mishaps. Afterward, they resumed their work until the manor was restored to order, closed for the season until quilt camp resumed in the spring.

Weary but satisfied with a job well done, the Elm Creek Quilters returned cleaning supplies to storage closets and washed the dust from their hands and faces, and congratulated one another on another successful Quiltsgiving come and gone.

And then they returned one last time to the ballroom to admire the quilts their guests had made that week—charming and whimsical, soft and bright, warm and comforting—precious gifts from the heart, one and all.

* * *

The moment Pauline arrived in baggage claim, Ray swept her up in a bear hug. “I missed you so much, sugar.”

“I missed you too,” she said, laughing as her toes skimmed the floor. “Now please put me down before one of us gets hurt.”

On the drive home, Ray updated her on all the news—amusing stories of the kids, the house, the neighborhood, the workplace. It was astonishing how much had gone on in her absence, what a difference a week made.

“Jeanette stopped by this morning,” Ray said as they pulled onto their tree-lined street. “She thought you'd be home already. She'd like you to call her as soon as possible.”

“She probably wants to tell me about the Cherokee Rose retreat,” said Pauline. “She knows I'm craving every detail.”

Ray glanced at her as he pulled the car into their driveway. “Are you sorry you missed it?”

“A little,” she admitted, “but I'm not sorry I attended Quiltsgiving instead. Not at all.”

In fact, her stay at Elm Creek Manor had been exactly what she'd needed.

She was so busy working her way through the pile of small tasks and obligations that had accumulated during her week away that she couldn't find a moment to call Jeanette until a few days later. They chatted about the retreat—the successes and mishaps, the grand total their fund-raiser had earned—and Jeanette assured her that everyone in the guild had missed her.

Pauline was skeptical. “Everyone?”

“Almost everyone,” Jeanette amended. “Speaking of Brenda, I have shocking news.”

For a moment Pauline held her breath. “She's quit the guild and joined a Tibetan monastery?”

“No, silly. She and her husband have separated.”