An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler

by Jennier Chiaverini

  Her life had been eroding for months, and she had been entirely unaware. All the while she was doing her best to be a loving wife and partner, Craig and this woman were joking about her. They called her “the wife” like she was a pet or a piece of furniture—“the dog” or “the chair.”

  A wave of nausea swept over her. She bolted to the bathroom and leaned over the sink, retching and gasping, but nothing came up. Eventually the heaves subsided, and she clutched the basin to steady herself until she caught her breath. Then she turned on the tap full blast, cupped her hands beneath the icy spray, and splashed her face, over and over again, until her hands were red from the cold and her stomach had settled.

  As she turned off the water, she glimpsed her face in the mirror and was frozen in place by what she saw there. Eyes shadowed and haunted. Skin pale and dripping wet. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. No, she looked like the ghost itself—the ghost of a suicide by drowning.

  She leaned closer to the mirror, close enough to see the fine lines around eyes and mouth and the deeper grooves crossing neck and brow. Gray had returned unnoticed to her hair, though she’d dyed it after seeing herself on America’s Back Roads. She had never been slender, though she wasn’t heavy, either, and the weight in her face made her look puffy and drawn. Or maybe it wasn’t the weight. Maybe it was the shock, the betrayal.

  She wondered what Terri looked like. She wondered if Craig knew.

  “You must confront him,” she told the ghost woman in the mirror. When he came home from work that evening, she would be waiting for him. She would tell him she knew that “Terry,” the fraternity brother he planned to meet at Penn State that weekend, was actually “Terri,” single mother and potential homewrecker. She would remain calm and grave as she spoke, giving him no sign that he had torn her heart out. And then Craig would—

  Would what?

  Would he break down and beg forgiveness? Would he become angry and claim ignorance so she would have to drag him over to the computer and point to the incriminating evidence? Would he grow silent and distant and disappear into the bedroom, emerging with suitcase in hand? In any event, a confrontation would ruin everything. There would be no salvaging their relationship if they openly acknowledged Craig’s betrayal. Her pride and his shame would be too great to overcome. If she wanted them to stay together, she would have to think of something else.

  But did she want them to stay together after what he had done?

  Yes. Yes. He was her husband, and she loved him. She did not want her marriage to end.

  He had betrayed her, but he had not yet committed adultery, something she would not have been able to forgive. Her only hope was to keep him from doing so and to have him decide on his own that he wanted no woman but herself. He had to chose her of his own free will, without any tears or threats or begging from her. It was the only way.

  “It’s the only way,” she explained to the ghost woman, and left the bathroom in a daze. She returned to the shop downstairs, her movements stiff and requiring great effort, as if her joints had locked up after years of inactivity, or as if she had slipped inside someone else’s body and had not yet learned all the connections between brain and nerve and muscle.

  As soon as she entered through the back door of the shop, she heard rapping on the front door. It was Judy, knocking frantically and peering through the glass.

  “Where were you?” she exclaimed after Bonnie unlocked the door and pushed it open. “You’re always here this time of day, and the sign says you were going to be back fifteen minutes ago. When you didn’t answer my knock, I got worried.”

  “I’m sorry. I was upstairs.” Bonnie’s voice sounded distant, artificial. She held open the door so Judy could enter. “Emily’s not with you today?”

  “I’m between classes. She stays home with Steve when I work. You know that.” Judy looked concerned. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.”

  That was not what Bonnie needed to hear at that moment. “That sounds like something Diane would say.”

  “I don’t mean you look bad, but—” Judy hesitated. “No, I do mean it. You look awful. Are you ill?”

  Bonnie clasped a hand to her forehead. “Now that you mention it, I think I am coming down with something.” A small touch of adultery, to be exact. She felt hysterical laughter bubbling up inside her, but she choked it down.

  “Is Summer working today? If it’s not too busy, maybe she could handle things on her own and you could get some rest.”

  “She won’t be in until this afternoon.” Bonnie forced a smile onto her face. “Do you have time for a visit? I could brew a fresh pot of coffee, or we have tea …” And by the time their beverages were ready, Bonnie would be able to tell Judy what was really wrong.

  But Judy had already been waiting a long time, and she had to leave right away or she’d be late for her class. After urging her once again to take it easy, Judy left. Except for the occasional customer, Bonnie spent the next few hours alone with her thoughts, which was the last thing she needed or wanted.

  Somehow she managed to get through the rest of the morning. When Summer arrived in the middle of the afternoon, Bonnie asked her if she would mind working on her own for a few hours. “I’ll be back in time for closing,” she promised.

  “Go ahead and play hooky for the rest of the day if you want,” Summer said, laughing, and Bonnie gratefully agreed.

  She drove to Elm Creek Manor, where Gwen and Diane were finishing the afternoon workshop. Bonnie helped them clean up the classroom, trying to figure out how to tell them what had happened and how to ask for their help without making Craig look bad. But it was no use. No matter how she explained it, Craig would look like a heel.

  So finally she just took a deep breath and told them.

  As she spoke, Gwen and Diane stared at her in disbelief. The Markham marriage was one of the constants in the Elm Creek Quilters’ lives, and now Bonnie was telling them that it was in jeopardy. When she finished, they tried to comfort her by telling her that everything would be all right, but Bonnie didn’t believe them. Nothing would be all right ever again unless she did something about it.

  “Diane,” she asked, “do you think you could give me a makeover? Hair, clothes, makeup—the works?”

  “Of course.” Diane looked Bonnie up and down and played with her hair. “I think you should go a bit shorter, you know, a bit more modern. I’ll introduce you to Henri. He does wonders.”

  Bonnie turned to Gwen. “I want to start an exercise program, too. Do I need special shoes if I want to start running?”

  Gwen looked dubious, but said, “If you’re serious about this, we can go shopping as soon as we’re finished here.”

  “And then we’ll visit Henri,” Diane broke in.

  “And then Henri,” Gwen agreed. “You should start out by walking briskly, and gradually build up to a run, if you like. Walking is just as good for your cardiovascular system, and it’s easier on the joints.” Gwen paused. “And don’t expect to look like Christie Brinkley by Saturday. These things take time. I’ve been running for years and I’m bigger than you are.”

  “That’s because you eat anything that isn’t glued to the table,” Diane said.

  “But Gwen’s in good shape,” Bonnie said. “I’m flabby and jiggly.”

  Diane shrugged. “Some men like a little jiggle in a woman. Don’t worry about it.”

  Bonnie gave her a wan look. “That’s easy for you to say.” Diane never exercised, as far as Bonnie knew, but she hadn’t gained an ounce in all the years Bonnie had known her. It wasn’t fair that a woman with two children should have such a flat stomach.

  Gwen looked uncomfortable. “Bonnie, I hope you’ll forgive me for saying this, but someone has to.” She hesitated. “Are you sure he’s worth it? After what he did, are you sure you still want him?”

  “Is that what this is all about?” Diane exclaimed. “I thought the point was to get you ready to play the field.”

  “No,” Bonnie s
aid softly. “I want Craig back.”

  Gwen shook her head. “I know I’m the last person in the world you’d want for a marriage counselor, but have you given this enough thought? If you’re doing this for the sake of the kids, well, they’re old enough to handle divorce.”

  “And even if they weren’t old enough, kids can adapt to anything,” Diane added. “It’s far better for kids to be in a loving, peaceful, single-parent household than to witness a messed-up marriage every day.”

  Bonnie winced. She had never thought of herself as someone with a messed-up marriage, but she supposed she was.

  “Nice, Diane.” Gwen glared at her.

  “What?” Diane protested. “Would you stay with someone who did to you what Craig did to Bonnie? If Tim pulled this crap with me, I’d kick him out the door and throw his computer after him, and I’d do my best to bean him on the head with it. Let little Miss Homewrecker have him if she wants him. Anyone who would do something like this is no prize, as far as I’m concerned. If I were Bonnie—”

  “But you’re not me,” Bonnie said.

  They looked at her, silent and surprised, as if they had forgotten she was there.

  They didn’t know what they would do, not for certain, Bonnie wanted to tell them. No woman would ever know what she would do until she was faced with the situation herself. Gwen could advise her to put Craig out of her life because Gwen loved her independence and didn’t know what it was like to build a life with a partner and to see that life threatened. Diane could say she’d kick Tim out if he did what Craig had done, because she knew Tim never would. Of course, six hours ago, Bonnie would have sworn the same thing about Craig.

  “You’re right,” Gwen said. “We’re not you. If this is what you want, we’ll help you.”

  “Of course we will,” Diane said. “You can count on us.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But—” Gwen hesitated. “Craig knows what you look like. A makeover won’t keep him if he wants to go.”

  “Maybe,” Diane said. She frowned in concentration and toyed with Bonnie’s hair again. “But it can’t hurt.”

  They went downtown to an athletic shoe store, where Gwen advised, “Find the most comfortable ones and worry about the price later.”

  Bonnie complied, but when she finally did look at the tag, the price nearly sent her reeling. “Is this for the shoes or the entire store?” she called out to a passing salesman, who ignored her.

  Beside her, Diane was trying on pair after pair. “I’m getting some, too, so you don’t have to go through this alone.”

  “The price will keep you motivated,” Gwen said. “You’ll walk every day because you’ll want to get your money’s worth.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” Diane promised. She stood up and took a few practice steps, then paused to examine her feet in the mirror. “Do you think these shoes make me look fat?”

  Gwen burst out laughing, and Bonnie forced herself to join in. They were trying to cheer her up. The least she could do was let them think it was working.

  After they made their purchases, Gwen had to return to campus, but she promised to phone later that evening. Diane took Bonnie by the arm and led her down the street to Henri’s salon. Henri himself bounded over to welcome them. When Diane told him Bonnie needed “emergency resuscitation,” Henri shook his head and made tsking noises. “It is a man, no?”

  “No—I mean, yes,” Bonnie said. “How did you know?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I know,” he said significantly, and led her off to wash her hair.

  Diane had been correct; Henri did work miracles. When Bonnie left the salon she looked a good five years younger—“Ten if you were not so very sad,” Henri said. He had enhanced her best features with a wonderful haircut and clever makeup techniques. As she watched the transformation, Bonnie tried to rein in her delight with the sobering thought that this makeover was costing her a small fortune. Craig is worth it, she told herself firmly, and stopped calculating the bill for the long list of products Henri insisted were essential for recreating her new look. But she needn’t have worried. “Put it on my account, Henri,” Diane sang out as they left the salon.

  “But of course, ma chérie,” Henri called after them, waving cheerfully.

  “I’m a very good customer,” Diane confided as she took Bonnie next door to a fashionable boutique. Bonnie had often admired the expensive dresses displayed in the front window, but this was the first time she had actually gone inside. She felt out of place, but Diane breezed through the shop as if it were her own closet.

  The dress Diane chose for her was light blue, and the flattering style seemed to take five pounds off her hips. With the new hair and makeup, the dress dangerously out of her price range, Bonnie looked amazing.

  “You have to get it,” Diane insisted.

  “I can’t.” Bonnie fingered the price tag, gazed at herself in the dressing room mirror, and sighed. “It’s out of the question.”

  “It would be a crime to let anyone else wear this dress,” Diane grumbled, but she didn’t pursue it. When Bonnie slipped back inside the stall to change, Diane offered to return the dress to the rack. Bonnie gave it to her reluctantly. She had wanted to admire herself in the mirror a few moments longer.

  When Bonnie left the dressing room, Diane was waiting by the cash register, a shopping bag in her hand and a mischievous grin on her face. “You didn’t,” Bonnie said.

  “I did.” Diane handed Bonnie the bag.

  “Thank you. I’m very grateful, but where on earth would I wear a dress like this?”

  “L’Arc du Ciel, when you take Craig there for a romantic dinner and dancing Saturday night. Craig does like to dance, doesn’t he?”

  “Well, yes, but at L’Arc du Ciel?” Bonnie protested as Diane steered her from the shop. “I could feed the whole family for the price of one of their entrées. We’ve never eaten there before.”

  “Maybe you should start.”

  “But Craig will be at Penn State on Saturday,” Bonnie said without thinking. She shook her head. “You’re right. L’Arc du Ciel it is.”

  They parted at the corner. Bonnie hurried home to drop off her packages and returned to Grandma’s Attic just in time for closing. Summer’s delight at her new appearance made Bonnie blush. As she counted the day’s receipts, locked the front door, and flipped the sign to Closed, she planned what she would say to Craig that evening. As she walked two blocks to the bank to drop off the deposit, she wondered if he would even notice her new appearance. She didn’t expect him to match Summer’s enthusiasm, but she hoped he’d show some appreciation, at least. Maybe she should put on a negligee and drape herself over his computer; he would have to notice her then.

  She was preparing supper when he came home from work. He stopped by the kitchen to give her a quick kiss, then headed straight to the computer.

  “Supper will be ready soon,” she told him. “I don’t think you have time—”

  “It won’t take long.” He didn’t bother to look at her as he spoke. “I have some important business to take care of.”

  “I bet you do,” she muttered, too low for him to hear.

  The table was set and Bonnie was in her usual chair waiting for him when he finally slunk into the dining room. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for that to take so long.”

  “That’s no problem,” Bonnie said cheerfully. “I know how work can get away from you sometimes.” So many evenings lately she had waited for him to drag himself away from the computer to come to supper or to bed, all the while feeling sympathy—sympathy!—for her poor, overworked husband. She’d been such a fool.

  He gave her a quick smile as he took his seat, then did a double take. “You look different.”

  “Do I?” Bonnie rose and began serving him.

  He nodded. “Did you get your hair cut?”

  “Yes, I did.” She could hardly get the words out, so pleased and relieved was she that he had noticed, and so angry at he
rself for feeling that way. She forced herself to smile. “What do you think?”

  “You look very nice.”

  “Thank you, honey.” She smiled at him, wondering if he detected the undercurrent of anger. She filled her own plate, taking smaller portions than usual.

  Tim glanced at her plate. “Is that all you’re having?”

  “Oh, I decided to take off a few pounds.” She said it breezily so he wouldn’t think she was going to start obsessing about food, or worse yet, put him on a diet as well. Women who constantly criticized their figures annoyed him; he considered them self-absorbed and desperate for attention. Bonnie took an enthusiastic bite of chicken to show him she still had an appetite. “I’m going to start walking every day, too.”

  “Really.” He eyed her with mild surprise.

  She nodded. “That’s right. There’s going to be a whole new Bonnie around here soon.” Not by Saturday, but soon. “Don’t worry; I’m only changing my appearance, not the things that really matter. I know how fond you are of the old Bonnie.” She heard herself speaking and wondered how she could sound so cheerful, so confident, so affectionate, when her heart was splintering into jagged pieces in her chest.

  “I am fond of you,” he said, holding her gaze for a moment before returning his attention to his food.

  She jumped at the opening. “I know that, but it’s nice to hear you say it,” she said. “And while you’re being so sweet … I was thinking, why don’t we plan a special evening out soon? It’s been a while since we’ve done something special, just the two of us.”

  “It’s been just the two of us every day and every night since Barry started college.”

  “You know what I mean.” She reached for his hand. “I mean going out, having fun.”

  He looked dubious. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I thought we could go out for dinner and dancing at L’Arc du Ciel.” She steeled herself. “I went ahead and made reservations for Saturday night.”

  “Saturday?” He set down his fork. “This Saturday?”