For the next several minutes, Pam said nothing, but as they turned into the parking lot of Weaver’s store, she reached into the plastic sack at her feet and pulled out a newspaper she’d picked up when they’d first arrived in town. “Before we go inside, I want to talk to you about something.”
Stuart turned off the engine and looked at her, blinking his hazel-colored eyes. “What’s on your mind now?”
“Remember how our marriage counselor suggested we do more things together?”
“Yeah … yeah … What about it?”
“She said I should do something you like, and then in turn, you should do something I like.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I went fishing with you two weekends in a row.” Which I absolutely hated, she mentally added. “So now it’s your turn to do something I want to do.”
“Just did. Came here so you could do some shopping.”
“Shopping doesn’t count. All we’ve bought so far are some bulk foods items at E&S.”
“But we went into nearly every other store in town just so you could look around.”
Ignoring his sarcastic comment, Pam held the newspaper in front of Stuart’s face and pointed to the ad she’d circled. “An Amish woman who lives here in Shipshewana is offering a six-week quilting class.”
“So?”
“I’ve always wanted to make an Amish quilt, and I really would like to take the class.”
“Go right ahead; I have no objection to that.”
“I thought maybe we could attend the classes together.”
He tipped his head and looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. “You want me to go to a quilt class?”
She nodded. “It would be fun.”
“Oh, you think? You’d better speak for yourself on that, ‘cause I think it would be boring.” Stuart shook his head forcefully. “No thanks. I’ll pass. It’s not the kind of thing a man like me would do.”
“Oh, so do you think sewing is just for women?”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I think.” Stuart drummed the steering wheel with his fingers, emphasizing his point.
“Well, if sewing’s only for women, then fishing’s only for men.”
He shrugged.
“I hated fishing, Stuart,” she said resentfully. “Now it’s your turn to do something with me that you think you’ll hate.”
He gave an undignified snort. “Give me a break, Pam!”
“I went fishing to make you happy. Can’t you do the same for me?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Six weeks? Do you really expect me to sit in some dumb quilting class for six whole weeks with a bunch of women I don’t even know?”
“You’ll know me, and I don’t expect you to just sit there.”
“What then?”
“You can learn to quilt, same as me.”
His eyes narrowed as he stared at her in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’d expect me to learn how to quilt. That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me to do.”
She folded her arms and glared at him. “I can’t believe you would expect me to hire a sitter for the kids so I could sit in your boat at the lake and hold a fishing pole all day. But I did it for you, so why can’t you do this for me?”
“You only went fishing two Saturdays. If I went to the quilting class for six weeks, it wouldn’t be fair.”
“What are you saying? Do you expect me to go fishing with you four more times? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yep. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Pam sat mulling things over. “Agreed.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll do it.”
“You’ll go fishing with me four more times?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“And you won’t complain about anything?”
Pam nibbled on her lower lip. No complaining? Now, that would be really difficult; especially since she hated the bug-infested woods.
“Well, what’s it gonna be?”
“If you promise to go to the quilt classes every Saturday for six weeks, then for the next four Saturdays after that, I’ll go fishing.”
“And you won’t complain?”
“I’ll try not to.”
“It’s a deal then. Now are we done with this discussion?”
Pam swallowed hard as she gave a slow nod. She couldn’t believe what she’d just agreed to do. Maybe after the quilting classes were over, she could think of some excuse not to go fishing with Stuart. Better yet, maybe she could talk him out of going fishing, period. Well, for now, at least, she’d be getting her way. As soon as they got home, she planned to call the number in the ad and reserve two spots for Emma Yoder’s quilting classes.
CHAPTER 4
Stuart couldn’t believe Pam would even want to make an Amish quilt, much less expect him to make one, too. Some women were hard to figure out, and his wife was certainly one of them. Maybe the idea of quilting was just a passing fancy. Could be that after she’d attended a class or two she’d change her mind and decide that quilting wasn’t something she really wanted to do.
Six whole weeks! That’s just plain dumb. I catch on to things really fast, though. Bet I’ll have the whole process down pat after the first couple of weeks, and then I won’t have to go anymore. ‘Course, if Pam does decide to stick it out, she’ll expect me to go along, even if I am able to quilt something sooner than that.
Stuart gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. This was really a no-win situation—at least for him. On the other hand, if he stuck it out the entire time, then Pam would have to keep her end of the bargain and go fishing with him four more times. It might be worth it just to watch her try to deal with the whole fishing scene again.
Stuart chuckled to himself. The last time they went fishing, it had been comical to watch Pam swatting at bugs, primping with her hair, and struggling with the line on the fishing pole when she’d caught a fish. He could still hear her hollering when she’d tried to reel it in: “Help! Help me, Stuart! I don’t know what to do with this fish!”
That day could have been kind of fun if Pam hadn’t whined and complained about every little thing. Why couldn’t she just relax and enjoy the great outdoors the way he did? If he’d known she was too prissy to get dirty and deal with the bugs once in a while, he’d have thought twice about marrying her. Of course, during their dating days he’d been attracted to her beauty and brains and hadn’t thought much about whether they had a lot in common. He just felt good being with her back then.
Just look at her now, Stuart told himself. She’s sitting over there in the passenger’s seat, looking so prim and perfect. Not a hair out of place on her pretty blond head, and I’ll bet there isn’t one wrinkle on her slacks or blouse. We’re sure opposites in what we like to do, how we dress, and in so many other ways. No wonder our marriage is in trouble. Even with the help of our counselor, I have to wonder if there’s really any help for me and Pam.
Topeka, Indiana
“How’d it go with your probation officer yesterday?” Jan Sweet’s employee Terry Cooley asked as Jan climbed into the passenger side of Terry’s truck.
Jan shrugged and clipped on his seat belt. “Went okay, I guess. During our sessions, she always asks me a bunch of stupid questions, but I’m just keepin’ it real.”
“That’s probably the best way, all right. So, are you ready to head home now or what?”
“Yeah, sure thing.” They’d just completed a roofing job at a home near Tiffany’s Restaurant, and Jan knew it was too late in the day to start tearing the roof off the Morgans’ house in LaGrange. “Guess we’ll get an early start on Monday mornin’,” he told Terry.
“Sounds good to me. I’m kinda tired anyways.”
“Same here.”
They rode in silence for a while, and then Jan brought up the subject that had been on his mind all day. “You know, I really hate relyin’ on you for rides all the time. Sure will be glad when I get my license back, ‘
cause I like drivin’ my own truck to work.” Jan thumped his knee. “And man, I sure do miss ridin’ my Harley. I like the feel of the wind in my face and the freedom I have when I’m sailin’ down the road on my motorcycle. Know what I mean?”
Terry nodded. “Just hang in there, buddy. As long as you don’t do anything to blow it, you won’t have too much longer to go.”
“Three more months seems like forever.” Jan groaned. “In the meantime, when I don’t have far to go, I’ll keep ridin’ that old bicycle I bought at the secondhand store. And when I need to travel farther, I’m thankful for friends like you who are willin’ to give me a lift.”
“Hey man, it’s no big deal.” Terry grinned and pushed his shoulder-length, flaming red hair away from his face. “If the tables were turned, I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”
“You got that right.” Jan appreciated a friend like Terry, who was not only a hard worker, but liked to ride motorcycles, as well. The two of them, both single, had become good buddies despite their age difference. Although Terry was only twenty-eight and Jan had recently turned forty, they had a lot in common and saw eye to eye on many things. When Jan moved to Shipshewana and started his roofing business three years ago, he’d been glad to find Terry.
“So what’d your probation officer have to say during your session yesterday?” Terry asked.
Jan squinted his eyes almost shut. “Said I should try to find some kinda creative outlet.”
“How come?”
“She thinks I’m uptight and need to find somethin’ that’ll help me relax.”
“You mean somethin’ other than a few beers?”
Jan grimaced. “It was a few too many beers at the biker bar that caused me to lose my license, remember?”
“Yeah, but if you hadn’t gotten picked up for drivin’ your motorcycle too fast, you wouldn’t have gotten nailed for driving under the influence.”
“True, but I’ve learned my lesson. No more drinkin’ and drivin’, and no more speedin’.” Jan pointed to a grocery store on his left. “Would you pull in over there? I’m thirsty, and I’m all out of bottled water.”
“Sure thing.” Terry put on his signal and turned into the store’s parking lot. “Guess I’ll go with you, get some water, and see what I can find to snack on.”
“I’ll grab us the waters while you look for whatever you wanna munch on.”
“Okay. Thanks, bud.”
When they entered the store, Jan went to the cooler and grabbed two bottles of water. As he waited for Terry, he studied the bulletin board on the wall near the front entrance.
His gaze came to rest on a handwritten notice offering quilting classes. Learning to quilt would sure be creative, and it might even help him relax. Jan had never admitted it to anyone, but he’d done a bit of sewing in the past and had even embroidered a few pictures he had hanging in his bedroom where no one else could see them.
He pulled off the section of paper with the phone number on it and stuck it in his shirt pocket. He didn’t know if he’d take the quilting class or not, but he’d give it some thought.
CHAPTER 5
Shipshewana
I still think this is a really dumb idea, and even though I agreed to come here with you, if this class is boring, don’t expect me to do anything but sit and listen,” Stuart mumbled as he pulled his black SUV onto the graveled driveway leading to a large white farmhouse on the outskirts of town.
Pam wrinkled her nose. “That’s not fair. I shouldn’t need to remind you that I went fishing with you not once, but twice.”
“That was different.” He scowled at her. “It’s easy to fish, and it’s something both men and women do.”
“Some men sew, and some men cook. We’ve been through all this before, Stuart.”
“I cook every time you want something barbecued.”
“That’s not the same thing, and you know it.”
“It is to me.”
“By the way, have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Yeah, this morning when I was brushing my teeth. Why?”
“Well, you didn’t look close enough, because you obviously forgot to shave.”
Stuart rubbed his stubbly chin. “Guess I did.”
“I’m not real pleased with your choice of clothes, either. You could have worn something more appealing than that stupid red baseball cap, faded jeans, and a red-and black-plaid flannel shirt. Oh, and I hope you won’t tell any corny jokes today. We’re here to learn how to quilt, not put on a show or try to make people laugh.”
When Stuart and Pam had begun dating and he’d joked around, she’d thought it was funny, but not anymore. Now it irritated her—not to mention that when he did it in public, she was embarrassed.
“All right, already! Would you stop needling me?” Stuart yelled.
Pam frowned. They sure weren’t starting off on the right foot today. She hoped Stuart didn’t humiliate her during the quilting class. Since he didn’t want to go, no telling what he might say or do.
“It looks like you’re not the only man here,” she said, motioning to an attractive-looking Hispanic man with a dark-haired, rosy-cheeked baby exiting the silver-colored minivan parked beside Stuart’s SUV. Although he was dressed in a casual pair of jeans, his pale blue shirt looked neatly pressed. That was more than she could say for Stuart.
Stuart grunted. “The guy’s obviously not with his wife. I wonder what’s up with that.”
“Maybe she couldn’t come today. Maybe he cares about her so much that he’s willing to take the class in her place.”
“You think so?”
“I guess we’ll soon find out.” Pam opened the passenger door and stepped down, being careful not to let her beige-colored slacks brush the side of their dusty vehicle. It really needed a good washing.
She’d just closed the door when a blue, midsize car pulled in. A few minutes later, a middle-aged African-American woman stepped out of the vehicle. “Are you here for the quilting class?” she asked, smiling at Pam.
“Yes, I am,” Pam replied, admiring the pretty turquoise dress the lady wore. “I’m eager to learn how to quilt, and being taught by an Amish woman is a good guarantee that I’ll be taught well. From what I understand, most Amish women are expert quilters.”
The woman nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard, too.”
Pam glanced over at Stuart, thinking he might be talking to the Hispanic man, but no, he stood in front of their vehicle with his arms crossed, staring at the ground. Maybe I made a mistake forcing him to come here, she thought. I probably should have come up with something else I wanted to do that he would enjoy, too. Well, it’s too late for that. We’re here now, so we may as well go in.
Pam went around to the front of the car and took hold of Stuart’s arm. “Are you ready to go inside?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he muttered.
“Well, hold that thought,” she whispered, again hoping he wouldn’t embarrass her during the class.
They started for the house, and as they stepped onto the porch, a small red car in dire need of a paint job pulled in. When a slender young woman dressed in a pair of black suede boots, black jeans, and a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled over her head climbed out of the car and headed their way, Pam couldn’t help but stare. The girl didn’t seem like the type who’d want to learn about quilting, but then neither did the Hispanic man. She guessed everyone who’d come must have their own reasons, and she hoped Stuart would now see that quilting wasn’t just for women.
Pam was about to knock on the door when Stuart nudged her arm. “Look who’s joining us now.” He motioned toward a tall, burly-looking man with a short brown beard, riding in on a bicycle, of all things! He wore blue jeans; a tight white T-shirt; and a black leather vest. A black biker’s bandana was tied around his head, and his brown ponytail hung out from the back of it. The man had a mean-looking black panther tattooed on his left arm and the name Bunny on his right arm. He wore black leat
her boots—the kind motorcyclists wore—and looked like he belonged on the back of a Harley instead of on a beat-up blue and silver bike.
When I signed us up for this quilting class, Pam thought, I certainly never expected there would be such an unusual group of people taking the class.
The young woman wearing the hooded sweatshirt barely looked at Pam as she stepped up to the door and knocked before Pam even had a chance to lift her hand. A few seconds later, a thirty-something Amish woman answered the door. She wore a very plain dark blue dress and a stiff white cap perched on the back of her dark brown hair, which had been parted in the middle and pulled into a bun at the back of her head. The woman stood staring at them with a strange expression. After several awkward moments, she said she was Emma Yoder’s daughter, Mary, and then she led the way into an unexpectedly large room, which she told them was where the quilt class would be held.
Pam tried to take it all in with one swooping look. The room held a long table, several folding chairs, some wooden racks with colorful quilts draped over them, and three sewing machines. One of them was a treadle and appeared to be an antique. The four gas lamps flickering overhead completed the picture of plain, simple living.
“If you’ll all take a seat, I’ll get my mother,” Mary said before hurrying from the room. The poor, red-faced woman looked about as uncomfortable as Pam felt right now.
Pam and Stuart quickly found seats, and everyone else did the same. Stuart turned to Pam and glared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me it would be like this?”
“I didn’t know.” She glared right back, grabbing Stuart’s ball cap and plunking it in his lap. Didn’t he have any manners at all? Between the angry look on Stuart’s face and the stony expression from the biker, as well as the young woman dressed in black, the room seemed to be permeated with negative vibes.
Pam glanced over at the dark-skinned woman and was relieved when she smiled. At least someone in the room seemed friendly. She couldn’t tell much about the demeanor of the Hispanic man, because he was occupied with his baby.
They all sat quietly for several minutes until a slightly plump, rosy-cheeked Amish woman with gray hair peeking out from under her stiff white cap and wearing a plain rose-colored dress and a pair of metal-framed glasses, entered the room. She looked a bit overwhelmed as she stood beside the antique sewing machine, gripping the edge until her knuckles turned white. Maybe she, too, hadn’t expected such an unusual group.
The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club Page 3