Tears sprang into Sarah’s eyes. Unable to speak, she nodded and hugged Bonnie again. She was glad for her friend, who had endured so much heartbreak on her way to her happy ending, but already she mourned her departure and couldn’t imagine Elm Creek Quilt Camp without her.
“You’ll tell the others?” asked Bonnie, a little worriedly. “It was hard enough to tell you, and I knew you’d understand and be happy for me. I can’t bear to break the news to everyone.”
Sarah agreed, assuring Bonnie that everyone would understand, and everyone would celebrate her happiness. They would miss her, but they loved her unselfishly. They wouldn’t regret her departure if they knew her new path would lead her to greater joy and fulfillment, even if it meant leaving them behind.
Just as Sarah predicted, their friends back home welcomed the news of Bonnie’s engagement with delight, and her decision to leave Elm Creek Quilts with regret and understanding. “It was only a matter of time,” said Diane as they gathered in the manor’s kitchen before a staff meeting to prepare for the upcoming camp season. “A new job, a new love, a home on the ocean—what do we have to compete with that?”
“Friendship,” Gwen retorted.
“Her children and grandchildren,” added Agnes. “Well, we don’t have them here at the manor, of course, but they’re in Pennsylvania.”
“I’m sure Bonnie will come back to visit often,” said Sylvia, “and we will certainly visit her.”
But it wouldn’t be the same, and they all knew it.
Before they settled down to camp business, they discussed the equally important matter of Bonnie’s wedding quilt. Gretchen, a devoted traditionalist, suggested that they make a Double Wedding Ring, but Sylvia declared that she had made enough Double Wedding Rings for one lifetime and would be very happy never to make another. As the others proposed and debated other possibilities, Sarah mulled over Sylvia’s declaration. She hadn’t seen Sylvia work on the reproductions of Elizabeth’s wedding quilt in many months. The last she had heard, Sylvia had finished enough rings for one quilt, had sent them off to Melissa, and was awaiting the appliqué sections Melissa had promised to contribute. Perhaps the pattern had proven too difficult for Melissa, or perhaps they had abandoned the project for other reasons. But Melissa and her friendship with Sylvia remained a sensitive topic for Sarah, so although she was curious, she didn’t inquire.
While Sarah was lost in thought, her friends settled upon the Wedding March pattern for Bonnie and Hinano’s wedding quilt. When Agnes mentioned that she had plenty of country homespun prints to contribute, Sarah roused herself from her reverie to point out that she didn’t think those were Bonnie’s favorite fabrics anymore. “I’ve seen Bonnie’s room at the Hale Kapa Kuiki, and there isn’t a scrap of barn red or navy blue plaid anywhere,” she said. She remembered something Claire had told her while showing her around Plumeria Quilts, her shop across the street from the inn: In Hawai’i, quilters preferred brighter colors. Transplanted mainlanders brought their color preferences with them, but over time, they gradually adopted brighter palettes, as Bonnie apparently had.
They decided instead to use a combination of florals and solids in tropical hues, and with that settled, Sarah introduced the first item on her agenda: gathering suggestions for new classes and workshops. What her friends didn’t know was that originally that item had been second on the list, right after hiring Bonnie’s replacement, a subject so unpleasant to contemplate that Sarah had deleted it from the document before printing it out. Bonnie would be with Elm Creek Quilts for another summer, and there would be plenty of time to think about recruiting a new teacher after Labor Day. Sarah only hoped that the task would prove easier than the annual nightmare of finding a replacement for Anna.
Bonnie and Hinano chose the first Saturday in January for their wedding, and all of the Elm Creek Quilters, past and present, traveled from wherever the winter found them—Waterford, Chicago, Philadelphia, or Virginia—to celebrate their special day. Aloha Quilt Camp closed for the week so that the Hale Kapa Kuiki could accommodate the couple’s out-of-town guests, the majority of whom were the bride’s friends and family, since most of Hinano’s lived in Hawai’i. In the days leading up to the wedding, the Elm Creek Quilters enjoyed a happy reunion at the inn with the friends who had left their circle—Summer, who brought a handsome, dark-haired fellow graduate student named Enrique as her date; Judy, accompanied by her husband, Steve, and daughter, Emily, who had become a rather accomplished quilter for her age; and Anna, Jeremy, and little Gina. This time Sarah and Matt had brought the twins along instead of leaving them home with their grandmother, and the three children played together happily, running races in halls of the Hale Kapa Kuiki, searching for tiny fish swimming in the tide pools, marveling at the pineapple growing in the garden of the courtyard lanai, and begging macadamia shortbread cookies from Midori. Anna and Sarah chatted as they kept an eye on the children—Sarah, bemoaning the impossibility of finding anyone half as perfect for Elm Creek Quilt Camp as Anna had been; Anna, confessing that she missed the cheerful bustle of the manor during camp season and worried about Jeremy’s grueling pursuit of tenure, which left them little time to enjoy family life. But mostly they and the other Elm Creek Quilters spent their time admiring the beauty of the Hale Kapa Kuiki, enjoying their reunion, helping Bonnie with last-minute preparations for the wedding, and rejoicing in Bonnie’s happiness.
On Saturday evening just before sunset, the guests gathered for the ceremony on the white-sand beach just beyond the inn’s lush gardens. As they seated themselves in the rows of chairs arranged before a shade canopy of woven palm fronds adorned with plumeria and hibiscus blossoms, one of Hinano’s best friends played the ukulele and sang gentle, romantic melodies in English and Hawaiian. The ceremony began with the seating of Bonnie’s daughter and younger son, their spouses, and their children, followed by Hinano’s father, son, and aunt Midori. Then Hinano entered, smiling broadly, clad in a short-sleeved dress shirt and slacks, with a wreath of dark green leaves upon his brow. Accompanying him was the kahu, or minister, who sang a Hawaiian chant as they approached. The kahu was dressed similarly to Hinano, but he wore a printed cloth draped over his left shoulder and midsection, a lei of honey-colored kukui nuts, and no wreath. In his hands he carried two leis, one of fragrant maile and another of pikake, or white jasmine. By his side hung a large white conch shell in a knotted carrier, and when he finished chanting his mele, he raised the shell to his lips and blew a long, low, sonorous call. Sarah’s heart thumped and tears of joy filled her eyes as everyone rose and watched Bonnie process down the aisle on the arm of her eldest son, clad in a simple but elegant ivory dress and carrying a bouquet of lavender anthuriums, white orchids, and pikake. When they reached the front, C.J. kissed his mother on the cheek, shook Hinano’s hand, and seated himself in the first row beside his wife.
The kahu spoke simply but eloquently of the meaning of marriage, the importance of aloha between a husband and wife, and the special blessing of discovering new love after loss. Then he handed the maile lei to Bonnie, who presented it to Hinano as she spoke her vows. In turn, Hinano recited his vows and presented the pikake lei to Bonnie. They exchanged rings, kissed, and as the kahu pronounced them husband and wife, their friends and family took to their feet, cheering and applauding.
The gathering moved to the Hale Kapa Kuiki lanai for the reception, which was a grand luau rich with delicious food, beautiful music, joy, and much aloha. Sarah was distracted by the twins, who—at Caroline’s instigation, of course—scampered down the path to the beach to look for honu whenever Sarah’s back was turned, but she enjoyed herself nonetheless. Bonnie and Hinano looked so happy together, so much in love. Sarah wished them many, many years together and hoped they would always cherish each other as much as they did that day.
Later that night, after Matt took the drowsy twins upstairs to bed, Sarah sipped a glass of chardonnay and listened as Hinano and his son, Kai, joined the band for a set. She wondered i
f she and Caroline would ever collaborate on a quilt as full of beauty and harmony as the music Hinano and Kai created together. She had longed for a daughter with whom to share her love of quilting, but Caroline ran away when Sarah called her, climbed down from her lap when Sarah tried to hold her close, and would rather puzzle out the words in a picture book than admire the bright colors and soft touch of fabric Sarah showed her. She was still too young, Sarah decided. One day she would fall in love with quilting as Sarah had and their mutual interest would draw them closer. In the meantime, Sarah would try to be patient.
Bonnie, radiant in her wedding gown, found Sarah as she sat listening to the ukulele and guitar, lost in thought. Sarah offered her friend more hugs and congratulations, and told her truthfully that she had never been to a more beautiful wedding, or one more blessed with aloha. “I have you to thank for it,” Bonnie replied.
“Me to thank for what?” asked Sarah. “What did I do? I just flew in to enjoy the celebration like everyone else. I didn’t even set up any of the chairs on the beach. Matt and Claire’s husband did that.”
“What did you do?” Bonnie put her head to one side and regarded her with fond amusement. “You made me the happiest woman in the world, that’s all.”
“I think maybe you’ve had too much champagne,” Sarah replied, draining the last of her wine. “I didn’t marry you; Hinano did.”
Bonnie laughed. “But I never would have met him if not for you.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Elm Creek Quilts saved me, and you created Elm Creek Quilts,” said Bonnie. “After I lost my quilt shop and my marriage fell apart, I can’t imagine what I would have done without Elm Creek Quilts. It gave me a home, a paycheck, and a reason to get out of bed every morning when I felt like I had lost everything. You probably don’t know this, but Claire was inspired to create Aloha Quilt Camp because Elm Creek Quilts was such an enormous success. And because I was an Elm Creek Quilter, Claire offered me the consultant’s job when she could have hired any number of experienced local quilters.” She reached for Sarah’s hand. “I never would have met Hinano if not for that job, which depended upon my experience with Elm Creek Quilts, which depended upon you.”
“Claire might have invited you to Maui for a vacation,” Sarah offered lamely. “You might have met Hinano then.”
“It wouldn’t have worked out the same way, even if I had happened to wander into his music shop.” Bonnie shook her head. “Sarah, honestly, it never ceases to amaze me how you can’t believe a word of praise spoken about you. Most people demand credit and recognition for every minuscule thing they do, but you act like it’s dishonest, somehow, to accept praise you’ve rightly earned. You seem to think you don’t deserve it.”
Usually Sarah didn’t, as in this case. “I’m truly glad if I played any role in bringing you and Hinano together,” she said sincerely.
“You definitely did, and I’ll be grateful to you for the rest of my life.” Bonnie squeezed her hand and rose, her soft ivory silk dress stirring in the gentle ocean breeze. “I wish you knew how much good you’ve contributed to the world by creating Elm Creek Quilts. I think I’ll make it my mission to keep telling you until you understand.”
“I’m not Elm Creek Quilts,” said Sarah. “It’s so much more than one person.”
“But it all began with you.” Someone called to Bonnie then, but she threw Sarah one last smile over her shoulder as she turned to go. “And even if you don’t believe it, Hinano and I owe our happiness to you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Sarah said, since it seemed rude to argue with the bride on her wedding day.
Weeks later, back home in Pennsylvania, where the rolling Appalachians were shrouded in white and the stark, bare-limbed trees cast thin shadows beneath the midwinter sky, Sarah confronted the task of finding Bonnie’s replacement. Alone in the library, she studied the Winding Ways quilt on the wall beside the fireplace, its missing panels a constant reminder of her absent friends. Should she search for an instructor whose interests mirrored Bonnie’s and simply have that person take over her usual classes, or would it be better to find the most talented quilter available and let her teach her own specialty, whatever that turned out to be? She spent hours laboring over a new help-wanted ad to post on their Web site and run in a few quilting magazines, until finally, frustrated with her inadequate description of everything the job entailed, she wandered downstairs and found Gretchen, Sylvia, and Maggie in the kitchen.
“Will you tell me what you think of this?” Sarah implored, and read aloud her most recent draft. Sylvia suggested a few additional details for the job requirements, and Gretchen recommended rearranging a few sentences near the end. Maggie sat quietly, sipping her tea, her hazel eyes looking anywhere but directly at Sarah, the furrow of her brow telling Sarah she wanted very badly to offer her opinion. “How about you, Maggie?” she finally prompted. “You’ve been awfully quiet. You don’t think my writing is all that bad, do you?”
“No, in fact, I think it’s great. If I didn’t work here already, I’d apply for the job.” Maggie hesitated, her long, slender fingers toying with her teaspoon. “It’s just that before you go to the expense and trouble of recruiting a new teacher, I’d like to recommend someone, although I admit I’m anything but an objective, disinterested party.”
Immediately Sarah guessed whom Maggie wanted to put forward: Russell MacIntyre, a talented art quilter who happened to be her long-distance boyfriend. Years before, when Summer and Judy had announced their plans to leave Elm Creek Quilts, Sarah and her colleagues had launched a nationwide search for two new instructors. Of the five finalists, Maggie had been their favorite and first choice, for she was a quilter of unique qualifications. Russell had ranked second.
Two days after her twenty-fifth birthday, Maggie had been walking home from the bus stop when she passed a garage sale and discovered a sampler quilt being used as a tablecloth for a display of glassware. Although she had made only two quilts in her lifetime—one a Girl Scout badge requirement, the other a gift for her sister’s newborn—one look told her that this quilt, despite its dusty, disheveled appearance, was something special. The woman running the garage sale was astonished by Maggie’s interest in the bedraggled quilt, which she had kept in the garage since moving to the neighborhood twenty-six years before. Her mother-in-law had bought it at an estate auction, and when she tired of it, she had given it to her son to keep dog hair off the car seats when he took his German shepherds to the park. Bemused, the woman apologized for its condition and asked five dollars for it, which Maggie gladly paid.
At home, she moved the coffee table aside and spread the quilt on the living room carpet. Despite the years of ill treatment, the quilt was free of holes, tears, and stains, and the geometric patterns were striking beneath the layers of dust and dirt. All one hundred of the two-color blocks were unique, and each had been pieced or appliquéd from a different print fabric and a plain background fabric that might have been white once, but had discolored with age and neglect. Along one edge, embroidered in thread that had faded to pale brown barely distinguishable from the background cloth, were the words “Harriet Findley Birch. Lowell, Mass. to Salem, Ore. 1854.” The discovery astounded her. How had a 133-year-old quilt ended up as a tablecloth at a garage sale?
With the help of the Courtyard Quilters, a quilting bee comprised of residents of the Sacramento retirement home where she worked, Maggie relearned her long-forgotten sewing skills and made a replica of the fragile antique. Fellow customers of the Goose Tracks Quilt Shop admired her quilt so much that the owner invited her to teach a class so that they could make their own versions. The success of that class led to another, and another, which brought her to the attention of local quilt guilds, who invited her to lecture and teach. As her fame in the quilting world spread, Maggie wrote a pattern book, My Journey with Harriet, which quickly sold out of its first edition and went into its third printing within a month. All along, Maggie had ke
pt her job at the retirement home, enjoying her work and her friendship with the Courtyard Quilters, but one day, years of budget cuts and rumors of corporate mergers culminated in the unsettling announcement that another health care organization had bought them out and intended to shut them down.
With unemployment looming, Maggie applied for a faculty position with Elm Creek Quilts and was invited to an interview, where, although she did not know it at the time, her knowledge, skills, and insight into the spirit of Elm Creek Quilts impressed her interviewers—even Diane, who had been particularly hard on all of the candidates in the vain hope that none of them would take the job and Judy and Summer would be compelled to stay.
On the flight home, while Maggie was hand-piecing a quilt block and mulling over her visit to Elm Creek Manor, a man moved to the empty seat across the aisle and struck up a conversation about quilting. They were both a little embarrassed to discover that although they didn’t recognize each other, they had previously met; the man turned out to be Russell MacIntyre, a renowned contemporary art quilter from Seattle, and a few years earlier, they had both been seated at the head table at the awards banquet of the American Quilter’s Society’s show in Paducah. It soon came out they were both returning home from interviews with Elm Creek Quilts, and after the initial awkwardness of learning that they were competitors passed, they chatted all the way to Seattle. As the plane touched down, they exchanged business cards and agreed to have lunch the next time they were scheduled at the same quilt show. They disembarked and parted ways, and Russell had almost reached the security checkpoint when he realized he didn’t want to wait for another unlikely synchronicity of their travel schedules. He checked the monitors for Maggie’s connecting flight, sprinted to the gate, and just as she was about to disappear down the jet bridge to her plane, he called out to her, and they arranged to meet the following week when he traveled through California on a teaching tour.
The Wedding Quilt Page 16