The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club Read online

  Emma released her grip on the sewing machine and took a deep breath, hoping she could find her voice. When she’d placed the ads and bulletin board notices for the quilting classes, she hadn’t expected those who came would be from such varied walks of life. And she certainly hadn’t figured any men would attend her classes! No wonder Mary had looked so worried when she’d come to get her.

  Thinking back to the phone calls she’d received, there had been one from a man, but he’d said he wanted to make a reservation for Jan. Emma had assumed it was for the man’s wife or a friend. And come to think of it, another woman who’d called had said she wanted to reserve a spot for her brother; although at the time Emma had thought maybe she’d misunderstood and that the woman had said, “her mother.”

  “Hello,” she said, smiling despite her swirling doubts and the reeling in her stomach from the nervousness she felt. “I’m Emma Yoder. Now would each of you please introduce yourself, tell us where you’re from, and state the reason you signed up for this class?” Maybe the introductions would put them all at ease.

  The English woman with golden-blond hair hanging slightly below her shoulders was the first to speak. “My name’s Pam Johnston. That’s Johnston with a t. I enjoy sewing and have always wanted to learn how to quilt.” She turned in her chair and motioned to the man with thick brown hair sitting beside her. “This is my husband, Stuart, and we live in Mishawaka. Stuart manages a sporting goods store, and I’m a stay-at-home mom to our children: Devin, who’s eight, and Sherry, who is six.” Pam wore an air of assurance, but Emma sensed it might be just a cover-up for a lack of self-confidence.

  Stuart gave a nod in Emma’s direction then glanced at his wife as though seeking her approval. “She’s the one who actually wanted to come here. I just came along for the ride.”

  “That’s not true.” Pam shook her head. “My husband also wants to learn how to quilt.”

  “Yeah, right,” Stuart mumbled. His tone was clipped, and the look he gave his wife could have stopped any of Emma’s clocks from ticking.

  Emma quickly turned to the African-American woman wearing a full-length turquoise dress with a loosely knit brown sweater. “What’s your name, and what brings you to my class?”

  “I’m Ruby Lee Williams, and I live in Goshen, where my husband pastors a church. We have twin sons who are twenty and attending a Bible college in Nampa, Idaho. Of course, they’ll be out of school for the summer in a few weeks, but they’ve both founds jobs there, so they won’t be coming home until Christmas.” She grinned, looking a bit self-conscious. “I guess that’s a lot more than you asked me to share.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Emma said. After all, Ruby Lee really hadn’t shared any more than Pam. “Would you mind telling us why you’re taking this class?”

  “I came here to learn how to quilt because I thought maybe—”

  “What church does your husband pastor?” Pam interrupted.

  “It’s a community church,” Ruby Lee replied.

  Pam gave a brief nod. “Oh, I see.”

  “So what brought you to my class?” Emma asked Ruby Lee.

  “Well, I just thought it would be kind of fun and that maybe I could make something for our new home or perhaps a quilt for someone I know.”

  Emma smiled and turned her attention to the young woman wearing black jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt, which she kept firmly in place on her head. It was really too warm to be wearing a sweatshirt—especially indoors. “Why don’t you go next?”

  “I’m Star, and I also live in Goshen. My grandma used to quilt, and before she died, she paid for me to take this class because she wanted me to learn how to quilt, too.”

  “You have a very pretty name.” Ruby Lee smiled at the young woman. “What’s your last name, Star?”

  Star lifted her gaze, as though studying the cracks in the ceiling. “You can just call me Star.”

  “Is that your real name?” Pam asked before Emma could voice the question. She’d never met anyone named Star before. Besides the dark clothing she wore, her coffee-colored eyes were accentuated by heavy black eyeliner.

  “It’s real enough for me.” Star lowered her gaze, and when she gave a nod, the shiny gold ring on the side of her nose caught the light coming through the window.

  “I thought maybe it was a nickname,” Pam said.

  Star lifted her chin and stared straight ahead. It didn’t take a genius to see that the young woman had some issues she needed to deal with.

  Feeling even more uncomfortable, Emma turned to the tall muscular man with the short-cropped beard and tattoos on his arms. “And who are you?”

  “Name’s Jan Sweet. Now ain’t that sweet?” He slapped the side of his leg and chuckled, a rich, warm sound. “I live here in Shipshewana and have my own roofin’ business. I got a DUI three months ago when I was ridin’ too fast on my Harley; had my driver’s license suspended for six months; had to do thirty days jail time; and paid a hefty fine. I’ll be on probation for three more months, at which time I’ll get my license back.” Jan paused to draw in a quick breath. “My probation officer suggested I do somethin’ creative, so when I saw your notice on a bulletin board, I signed up for the class.”

  “Jan Sweet? What kind of a name is that for a man?” Stuart, who had been staring at the tattooed man, snickered. “Sounds more like a girly girl’s name to me.”

  Jan’s brown eyes narrowed as he eyeballed Stuart. “Better watch what you’re sayin,’ buddy, or I might just have to show you how much of a man I can be.” His tone had grown cold, and the muscles on his arms rippled slightly.

  “Oh, I–I’m sure my husband was only kidding,” Pam was quick to say. She bumped Stuart’s arm with her elbow. “I think you owe Mr. Sweet an apology, don’t you?”

  “Sorry,” Stuart mumbled without looking at Jan.

  “Yeah, well, some people oughta keep their opinions to themselves,” Jan growled. “You hear what I’m sayin’?”

  Emma could tell by the smirk on Stuart’s face that he still thought his comment about Jan’s name was funny. And Jan looked downright miffed. How on earth would she handle things if the animosity kept up between these two men? Did she have the nerve to ask one or both of them to leave? Would that even be the right thing to do? Could God have sent this group of unlikely folks to her home for another reason besides learning how to quilt?

  Emma turned her attention to the Hispanic man holding the baby. “What’s your name, and who’s the cute little girl on your lap?”

  “I’m Paul Ramirez, from Elkhart. I teach second grade, and this is my daughter, Sophia. She’s nine months old.” Paul bent his head and kissed the top of the baby’s head. “My wife, Lorinda, started a quilt for Sophia, but she was killed in a car accident six months ago, so the quilt was never finished. I came here hoping someone might be able to finish it for me.” He removed the small pink quilt from the paper sack he’d brought along.

  “Oh, I think you should be the one to finish it,” Emma said, understanding the look of pain she saw on the young man’s face. Perhaps completing the quilt his wife started would give him some sense of peace.

  “I—I don’t know a thing about sewing, but I guess with your help I can try.” Paul motioned to the baby. “I won’t bring Sophia with me when I come next week, but I couldn’t find a babysitter today. Since I didn’t think I’d be staying for the whole class, I brought her along.” One look and Emma could see how much that adorable little girl meant to Paul.

  “She’s a cute little tyke,” Jan spoke up. For such a big, tough-looking man, he sure had a tender expression when he smiled at Paul’s baby.

  Emma still couldn’t believe she’d ended up with such an unusual group of people, but Lord willing, she would teach them all how to quilt, and maybe a bit more besides.

  CHAPTER 6

  When Emma took a seat in a rocking chair and draped a colorful quilt across her lap, everyone gathered around. Then, as Emma began to explain the history of Amish qui
lts, Star glanced over at the biker dude. In so doing, the hood of her sweatshirt slipped off, and she quickly put it back in place. She couldn’t believe that Jan had blabbed all that information about himself, or for that matter, that he’d been stuck with a girl’s name. It didn’t fit his rough exterior. But then, the fact that he kept smiling at the baby girl sitting on her daddy’s lap didn’t fit the way Jan looked either. Maybe he wasn’t as tough as he appeared. Maybe he had a soft spot for kids. He sure didn’t seem the type who’d want to learn how to quilt, but then neither did the other guy, Stuart.

  Guess I don’t really fit the mold either. Even though I told them about Grandma signing me up for this class, some still might be wondering what a girl like me is doing here.

  Star pulled her gaze away from the biker and focused on the Amish woman holding another colorful quilt she said was the Lone Star pattern. Now that one fits me, Star thought. I’m a lone Star who no one but Grandma has ever really loved.

  To keep from giving in to self-pity, Star studied her surroundings. While she’d seen many Amish people when she’d gone to the Shipshewana Flea Market, this was the first time she’d been in one of their homes. Upon first entering Emma’s house, she’d noticed how neat and clean it was. From what she could tell, not one thing was out of place. A wonderful aroma permeated this home, too—like freshly baked cookies—which gave the place a homey feel. In some ways, Emma’s house reminded Star of her grandmother’s place but with one big distinction—the absence of electricity. The oversized sewing room was dimly lit with only the light coming from the windows and the few gas lamps suspended from the ceiling.

  How weird it would be for me to live without electricity, she thought. No TV, computer, dishwasher, hairdryer, or microwave. Star was sure she’d be bored if she couldn’t go online and post messages on forums to people she didn’t really know or download favorite songs to her computer. Yet something about being here in this simple, plain home, gave Star a sense of peace. She was glad she’d followed through with Grandma’s wishes and come to the class. If nothing else, it would be a nice diversion.

  “And this colorful quilt is called the Double Wedding Ring,” Emma said, breaking into Star’s musings. “It’s a quilt that’s often given to young couples when they get married.”

  “I wish someone would have given me and Stuart a lovely quilt like that when we got married,” Pam spoke up. A look of longing showed on her perfectly made-up face.

  “Perhaps after you learn how to quilt, you can make one of your own,” Emma said, as though to offer encouragement.

  “That would be nice.” Pam looked over at her husband. “Don’t you think so, Stuart?”

  “Uh-huh. Whatever,” he mumbled, pulling one of the newer type smartphones out of his pocket.

  “There seems to be a sense of unity in the balance and blending of the many parts and colors in your quilts,” Ruby Lee interjected.

  Emma nodded, peering at Ruby Lee over the top of her glasses. “I believe you’re right about that. Also, quilting not only holds the layers of fabric together, but it’s important for the design and appearance of the quilts.”

  Emma showed the class a few more quilts, including Weaver Fever, Ocean Waves, and one called Dahlia. “The Dahlia pattern has a three-dimensional effect from the gathered petals surrounding the center of each star-shaped flower,” she went on to explain. “Since I have a love for flowers, Dahlia-patterned quilts are one of my favorites.”

  “That’s the one I like,” Ruby Lee said cheerfully, “because since we moved into our new home, I’m enjoying all the pretty flowers blooming in my yard this spring.”

  “I like flowers, too,” Pam agreed, “but I still favor the Double Wedding Ring quilt.”

  “This one might fit you, Jan,” Emma said, holding up a quilt made with both light and dark brown material, which she identified as the Log Cabin pattern. “Now this quilt is often made from various scraps. Its narrow, log-shaped pieces often vary in length, and smaller pieces of material can be used that aren’t large enough for other patterns.”

  Jan shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well, I ain’t much into campin’, but I guess the house I live in could be considered my cabin.”

  “I like to camp,” Stuart interjected. At least he was paying attention again.

  Emma reached for another quilt. “This is called Tumbling Blocks, and it’s also referred to as Baby Blocks. By using a single diamond shape, with varied placement of colors, the quilt creates an optical illusion of hexagons, cubes, stars, or diamonds.” She motioned to the small quilt Paul had brought along. “My Tumbling Block pattern is similar to the quilt Paul’s wife started for Sophia.”

  Paul’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m still not sure I’ll ever be able to finish that quilt.”

  “Don’t worry about it for now,” Emma said patiently. “You may feel differently once you learn how to quilt.”

  Star glanced at Stuart. He was back to fiddling with his phone. The guy was probably surfing the web or playing some game. She looked away, and her mind began to wander again as she continued to peruse her surroundings. Across the room sat an old treadle sewing machine. Star knew this because she’d seen one in an antique shop when she and Grandma had gone shopping during a visit to her home a few years before she’d become so ill. Grandma had been interested in antiques, and the strange-looking milk bottles on her kitchen counter were some of the old things she’d collected. An antiquated roll-top desk sat in the bedroom where Star slept. In the attic, she’d also seen several old pieces of furniture in dire need of repair, as well as a battered-looking trunk, which she hoped to go through someday.

  When Stuart exhaled a noisy, deep breath, Star looked at him in disgust. Slouched in his chair with his eyes half closed, still holding his phone in one hand, he looked about as bored with all of this as she used to feel during high school math. The poor guy obviously did not want to be here. His wife, on the other hand, sitting straight in her chair with an expectant look, was no doubt eager to learn everything there was about quilting. The prissy little blond’s makeup was perfectly done, as were her fingernails, painted with a pale lavender polish that matched her gauzy silk blouse.

  I wonder if she paints her nails to match everything she wears, Star thought with disdain. I can’t figure out why some people have to look so perfect, while others don’t seem to care how they look at all. She glanced back at Stuart, noting a dark stain—probably from coffee—on his shirt. He and Pam sure didn’t fit—at least not in the way they dressed. Emma and the others were okay, she guessed. At least they seemed more down-to-earth than Pam, although Star would have to wait until she’d spent more time with these people before drawing any real conclusions.

  “Now that I’ve explained some of the history of quilts and shown you several of the designs I have here, I’ll explain what we’re going to do with the quilted wall hangings you’ll be learning to make,” Emma said. “I have lots of material you can choose from, and I think it would be good for everyone to use the same simple star pattern for your first project. Then hopefully, once you know the basics of quilting, you’ll be able to make a larger quilt on your own. Or in Paul’s case, he should be able to finish the baby quilt his wife started. Of course you may all use whatever color material you like, which will make each of your wall hangings a bit different and unique.”

  When Paul’s baby started to fuss a bit, Star jerked her attention to him, noticing how attentive he was to the little girl, as he gently patted her back. It couldn’t be easy for Paul, losing his wife and having to raise their child alone. Star hoped he would do a better job of it than Mom had done with her. A baby needed to know she was loved and that her needs came first, not the other way around.

  During Star’s childhood, she’d felt more like Mom was her big sister, rather than her mother. Mom sometimes seemed like a silly schoolgirl—especially when she was around one of her boyfriends. Maybe Mom’s immaturity stemmed from the fact that she’d only been eighteen when Star
was born, but by now she should have grown up and quit acting so self-centered.

  Emma set aside the last quilt she’d shown them and had just risen from the rocking chair when a thumping noise drew everyone’s attention to the window behind Emma. A white goat with its nose pressed against the glass stared in at them. Ba-a-a-a! Ba-a-a-a!

  “Get away, Maggie! Go on now, shoo!” Emma tapped on the window and flapped her hands at the goat. When the critter didn’t budge, Emma turned to the class, her cheeks turning red. “I’m sorry for that interruption. Maggie can be a real pest sometimes. She often gets out of her pen and causes all kinds of trouble. Even pulled some clothes off my line the other day, and then I had to rewash them.”

  “Want me to put her away for you?” Stuart asked, practically leaping out of his seat. “I’m a sportsman, and I know a lot about animals.”

  Emma looked a bit hesitant but nodded. “You can try if you like. My grandchildren next door helped me plant a small garden two weeks ago, and I would hate to see Maggie running through and ruining it.”

  “Sure, no problem. I’ll put her right back in the pen.” Stuart slapped his ball cap on his head and moved quickly across the room.

  Pam followed and grabbed hold of his arm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Stuart.”

  “Why not?”

  “Chasing after a goat isn’t the same as shooting a deer. The animal might butt you.”

  Stuart pried Pam’s fingers loose from his arm and adjusted his ball cap, which was slightly askew. “Duh! I’ll just catch the critter and put her back in the pen.”

  “Be careful,” Pam called as he sauntered out the door.