The Friendship Star Quilt

by Patricia Kiyono

  “He abused you?”

  She turned away again, her silence answering for her.

  A surge of anger swept through Brad. The thought of someone hurting Anne made Brad see red. Questions filled his head, but he clenched his jaw to keep from asking. He wouldn’t pry. Anne needed to decide she could trust him, or she’d shut down and lock all her pain inside herself once more.

  “Jeffrey was a few years older than me,” she said so softly he had to strain to hear her. She stared at her fists clenched in her lap as she spoke. “I’m not sure if I ever truly loved him — I thought I did when we were dating — but Grams was sick, and I was so scared and confused. His family was wealthy, and he promised to pay for good doctors for her once we were married. I don’t know if he meant it or not — I think he said it just to get me in his bed. Then Grams died and, before I could think straight, Jeffrey and I were married.”

  “Did you… have children?”

  Anne averted her face and stared out the window at the other cars parked around them. For a moment, he thought he’d pressed too hard. Then she took a deep, shuddering breath.

  “I was pregnant when—” Her voice broke, and she shook her head to compose herself before continuing. “I lost the baby when I was seven months along. When I got out of the hospital, I ran away.”

  A chill went up Brad’s spine. Something in Anne’s tone told him her ex-husband had a hand in her losing the baby. He reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it, Anne? I’m a good listener.”

  She leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes for a moment. A tear slid down her cheek, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand.

  “I’d been so miserable,” she whispered. “Jeffrey and his family hated me. They ridiculed me every chance they got. When I found out I was pregnant, I was so happy. I’d have someone to shower with my love, someone who would love me back. Jeffrey’s parents even started to be nicer to me. I think they liked the idea of an heir. When I lost the baby, they blamed me for—”

  Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe it was for the best. I wouldn’t have been able to afford to take care of her now.”

  “Your baby was a little girl?” he asked softly.

  Anne nodded.

  “I got to see her for just a moment in the hospital. The nurse let me touch her cheek. She was so perfect, so fragile… so helpless.” The tears started flowing again. “I failed her, Brad! Before she was even born, I couldn’t protect her from him.”

  Brad wanted to comfort her, wasn’t sure she’d let him, but had to try. He reached over and gathered her into his arms. She turned and buried her face in his suit jacket as wracking sobs shook her slight frame. His shirt grew damp, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t sure what had caused her to lose her child, but he suspected what had happened and felt a surge of rage. His blood boiled with anger at the base excuse for a man who’d caused this deep pain. How could any man hurt his pregnant wife and unborn child?

  He held Anne until she’d cried herself out. When her tears stopped and her sobs faded to an occasional sniffle, Brad continued to keep his arms around her, not with any amorous intent but in the way a friend comforts another friend.

  Comforts and protects, he amended.

  He had so many questions. Questions they needed to discuss, but he wouldn’t push, He’d wait until she was ready to tell him more. His mind reeled with what she’d already shared. The poor kid had lost her baby and run away from an abusive relationship. Where was the guy now? Who was he? She’d said his family had been wealthy. How had she gotten away? Was he searching for her?

  And perhaps, most important of all, was the creep her ex or was she still married to him?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s arrangement of “Carol of the Bells” blasted in the living room of Anne’s small apartment the night before Christmas Eve. Normally, Anne wouldn’t have played her music so loud. She always wore headphones to listen to her CDs so she wouldn’t disturb her sweet downstairs neighbor. However, Helyn had already left to spend the holidays with her son’s family in Ohio, so Anne had the entire house to herself and could fill it with the sound of her favorite music group.

  Humming, she plugged in the cord for the small, pre-lit Christmas tree she’d bought the previous evening at Meijer. The light from the tree shed a festive glow, adding to her enjoyment.

  It had been a long time since she’d had a tree — or holiday decorations of any sort. Jeffrey had sneered at the ones she’d put up the first Christmas they were together. Admittedly, they had probably been tacky compared to the ones he had grown up around — trees so elegant they’d been photographed for numerous decorating magazines. His mother’s interior decorators special ordered her eleven-foot tall masterpieces, enhanced them with additional branches to create the perfect shape then adorned them with thousands of dollars’ worth of meticulously placed decorations in crystal, silver and whatever color was the current rage. Aesthetically appealing but colder than an iceberg. They were much different from the fragrant Douglas firs, lovingly draped with garlands of cranberries and popcorn then hung with myriad hand-me-down ornaments, in the parlor of Grams’ house each Christmas. Since Jeffrey had preferred perfection to warmth, Anne never tried to decorate again, seeing no reason to open herself to his ridicule.

  During her first Christmas in Grandville, she’d still been too frightened to do more than acknowledge the holiday with small gifts to Myra, Courtney, and her landlady. She’d spent the day itself huddled under the blankets of her bed, mourning the loss of her baby and contemplating her uncertain future.

  This year, her life held so much more promise. Grandville felt like home. She had a cozy apartment, a good job, and friends who cared about her. The carol service at Brad’s church had lifted a burden from her soul, too. Since then, she’d found herself humming little snippets of holiday songs at the oddest times, and the night before, she’d had a sudden urge to decorate her little nest. Her budget didn’t allow for a big, live tree and all the trappings — nor did she have the space for one — so the small tree with its serene angel tree topper was perfect. Just seeing it made her happier.

  She hadn’t turned into a complete Pollyanna, however. Jeffrey’s eventual release from prison still concerned her. But the mere thought of it no longer paralyzed her with fear. She’d changed over the past few months, grown more confident in herself and her abilities. She liked having friends, being sought out for advice and appreciated when she gave it. Most of all, she liked the woman she saw these days when she stared in the mirror.

  As the final notes of the song swelled to a crescendo, Anne heard a noise distinctly different from the clashing cymbals and throbbing drumbeats on the CD. She reduced the volume on the portable player to listen. The sound repeated itself. Someone was at her back door, knocking. Not an angry pounding, just a polite rap loud enough to have been heard over TSO. Anne glanced at her watch. It had grown dark outside, but it wasn’t quite eight o’clock, not extraordinarily late for people to come calling.

  But no one had ever come to visit her.

  Realizing she was alone in the empty house, she shivered and momentarily considered fleeing down the front stairs. It was absurd, she had nothing to fear. The door had a sturdy lock, and she didn’t need to actually open it. She could just call out and ask who was there. Most likely, it was simply someone with the wrong address. However, as she crossed the kitchen, she briefly wished she’d had a phone installed.

  Stopping a few feet from the door, she took a calming breath. “Who is it?” she asked in a loud enough voice to be heard through the solid wood.

  “Brad and Jennie.”

  Brad and his daughter had driven her home after the carol service on Thursday, but she hadn’t seen him since. Her behavior still embarrassed her, and she’d hoped it wouldn’t be too awkward when they saw each other again. Now, hearing his voice, relief surged through h
er.

  “Just a minute!” She hurried the last few steps to the door, checking the kitchen to make sure everything was tidy. In her haste, she fumbled twice with the security chain, finally managing to free it on the third try. She released the deadbolt then threw open the door.

  “Merry Christmas!”

  Apparently, the snow had restarted after she’d gotten home from work. Flakes, clumped together in fluffy clusters, filled the air and fell gently around the pair who stood on the small porch at the top of her stairs.

  “I hope we aren’t interrupting you,” Brad apologized. “Is it too late for company?”

  “Not at all,” Anne assured him. She unlatched the screen and waved them inside. “I was listening to Christmas music. I had the volume pretty loud, so I didn’t hear you. I hope you weren’t knocking very long.”

  “Sometimes Daddy likes to listen to music loud, too,” Jennie announced in a serious tone then added, “Hi, Miss Anne.”

  “Hi, sweetie. Got a hug for me?”

  The little girl hurtled into Anne’s outstretched arms and snuggled against her for a minute. Anne savored the sensation for a long moment before releasing her. “Can I take your coat? Would you like some hot cocoa?”

  “What about me?” Brad asked.

  Anne laughed. “Of course, you can have cocoa, too. Or I can make coffee or tea if—”

  “I meant a hug,” he interrupted. He set the plastic bag he’d been carrying on the table and opened his arms to her.

  Momentarily at a loss for words, Anne didn’t move. Heat flooded her cheeks as she remembered how she’d cried in his arms after the carol service. She’d wondered if she’d made a total mess of his dress shirt. Should she offer to wash it or replace it? Before she could decide, Jennie saved the day.

  “Daddy says people should hug every chance they get.”

  “Is that so?” Anne arched her eyebrow at Brad then felt herself blush again when he winked at her. “Well, Jennie, your daddy is absolutely right. People should hug more.”

  Matching her actions to her words, Anne stepped forward, intending to give Brad a quick squeeze. Instead, she found herself wrapped in his arms and pulled into a warm embrace. When he finally released her, she took a steadying breath and prayed her rubbery knees wouldn’t betray her.

  “Coffee?” she squeaked then coughed and tried again. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  He shook his head. “Thanks, but we can’t stay long. I need to get Jennie home to bed. We’re leaving early in the morning before the shop opens, so we stopped tonight to wish you Merry Christmas.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  Brad’s family had mentioned their holiday plans at Thanksgiving, but Anne had completely forgotten they’d be gathering at his parents’ house across the state. She’d decided to go to Christmas morning services — had even made a new crimson wool dress — and had anticipated seeing Brad and Jennie there.

  “Well, I’m glad you stopped,” she said, forcing a bright note in her voice to disguise her disappointment. “I have something for you both. Come into my parlor—”

  “Said the spider to the fly?” Brad teased at the same moment Jennie asked, “What’s a parlor?”

  “It’s another name for a living room,” Brad replied, smiling down at his daughter.

  “I grew up hearing it called a parlor, so I tend to still call it that,” Anne added. “But Jeff—er—some people say it makes me sound old-fashioned.”

  “Those people were wrong,” Brad said. His eyes darkened as he met her gaze.

  “I like the name,” Jennie said before Anne could reply to Brad’s comment. “It sounds like a castle. Can we call our living room a parlor, too, Daddy?”

  He nodded and rumpled her hair. “Whatever you like, Princess.”

  “Well, come into my parlor for a moment, while I get your gift from under the tree.”

  “Anne, you shouldn’t have—”

  “Hush,” she said, putting her finger against his lips. “You haven’t even seen it yet, so you don’t know if I should have or not.” She wrinkled her nose. “That didn’t even make sense, did it?”

  He laughed and playfully nipped her finger with his teeth. “Oddly, it did.”

  Anne jerked her finger away then grinned and led them into the other room.

  “Oh, Miss Anne. I like your Christmas tree!” Jennie exclaimed, excitedly. “The lights are so pretty.”

  “Thank you, Jennie. I like the lights, too.” She pointed to the sofa. “Why don’t you and your dad have a seat on the couch?”

  The little girl quickly took a seat and patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit down, Daddy.”

  When they were seated, Anne took two gaily wrapped boxes from beneath the tree and carried them over to her guests. The first box, a large cube covered in whimsical Christmas wrap, went to Jennie. She handed Brad the second, a flat package slightly deeper than a shirt box and wrapped in a navy and silver foil.

  “Go ahead and open yours, Jennie. Then you can help your daddy with his,” Anne instructed. She perched on the arm of a chair nearby to watch.

  Jennie tore into the wrappings with childish delight. “Daddy!” she squealed with excitement. “Miss Anne bought me a sewing machine.”

  “I hope it’s all right with you. I should have asked you first,” Anne said turning to Brad when it occurred to her she might have overstepped her bounds.

  He gave her a reassuring nod. “It’s a wonderful idea, Anne. Thank you.”

  “Oh yes, thank you,” Jennie exclaimed and jumped up to give Anne another hug.

  “You admired my machine at the shop,” Anne said, hugging the little girl back. “But it’s against the law for someone under eighteen to operate commercial machinery. Besides, mine is much too big for you to reach the foot pedal. This one is battery-operated, so it won’t go too fast, and the needle has a shield around it so you won’t poke your finger by accident. But it’s still powerful enough to use for sewing. I put a package of batteries inside the box for you.”

  “Jennie told me how much she enjoyed her lessons when you watched her,” Brad said.

  “Which brings us to your package. It’s actually from Jennie, too.”

  “From me?” Jennie’s button nose wrinkled in doubt.

  Anne nodded then seeing Brad’s curious expression, she waved to the box. “Open it and you’ll understand.”

  Taking care not to rip the paper, Brad slowly peeled back the tape on one end.

  “Goodness, Jennie,” Anne chuckled. “At this rate it might be next Christmas before your daddy has it opened. Why don’t you give him a hand?”

  The little girl bounced over to the couch. “Do you want help, Daddy?”

  “Certainly.” He set aside the box long enough to lift Jennie onto his lap then handed the box to her. “I already opened this side, now, you open the other one.”

  Anne’s couldn’t help but smile at the picture they made. Blond-haired child and dark-haired father, heads bent eagerly to the task. When a stabbing pain for what she’d lost swept, nearly overwhelming her, Anne looked away. She blinked back her tears, determined not to cry in front of the excited little girl. When she glanced back, she found Brad watching her over the top of Jennie’s head. His eyes held understanding and concern. Anne almost felt as if he’d reached across the room to hug her.

  She gave a little laugh to let Brad know the moment had passed, and she was okay. “Hurry up, slowpokes,” she urged. “Open the package.”

  When the box was unwrapped, Brad lifted off the lid to find the contents covered in a layer of white tissue paper. “What could this be?”

  As he pushed aside the wrapping, Jennie started bouncing excitingly.

  “It’s my sewing, Daddy!” the little girl exclaimed. “Miss Anne made them into a quilt for us.”

  “Well, it’s not actually a quilt, Jennie. We didn’t have enough squares to make that,” Anne explained. “But there were just the right amount for a wall hanging for your daddy�
�s office.”

  “Anne, thank you so much,” Brad said, lifting the piece from the box and admiring the colorful squares Jennie had painstakingly sewn together. “Thank you as well, Jennie. I will treasure this forever.”

  The sound of his phone interrupted them. Brad reached into his pocket for it. Glancing at the screen, he shrugged.

  “Would you excuse me a moment? I have to return this call,” he asked. Then, without waiting for her reply, he lifted Jennie from his lap and tapped a few numbers on the screen. Suddenly, the opening notes of Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s Wizards in Winter sounded from the kitchen.

  “What on earth?”

  Brad shrugged. “Sounds like a cell phone ringing.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “Come on, Miss Anne,” Jennie said, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the other room. “Come and look!”

  Anne let the child guide her to the table where her father had set down his plastic bag earlier. The music stopped for a moment then started again. Jennie picked up the small bag and thrust it into Anne’s hands just as the music stopped.

  “I think that’s your cue to open it,” Brad announced, leaning in the doorway, a big grin on his face. He held up his phone. “Unless you need me to hit redial again.”

  With shaking hands, Anne reached into the bag and pulled out a small box. The lid was open to show the shiny new cell phone inside. “Brad, I can’t—”

  “It’s one of those pay-as-you-go phones, Anne. I took the liberty to set it up for you, using the address for the quilt shop.”

  “But my name—”

  “Doesn’t appear anywhere. It’s registered to T. S. Post,” he said, offering her a card with the name, The Stitching Post’s address, and her new phone number. “No one else needs to know you have it, Anne. But Jennie and I want a way to get in touch with you when you aren’t at work. And you can call us, too — I programmed in my cell phone number. This way we can talk — like maybe on Christmas Eve or something.”