School books make lousy friends, she thought. Even with all the studying Pam had done, none of it seemed to have really mattered to anyone. The good grades were rewarded, but with money or clothes, not words of affirmation or a loving hug.
During Pam’s childhood, she’d never even had a close friend. Heather Barkely, whom she’d met at aerobics class a few years ago, was the first real friend she’d ever had.
What was worse than not having any close friends, and the one thing she’d really despised about school, was going back in the fall after summer vacation. When the teacher would ask if the students wanted to share their summer adventures with the rest of the class, Pam envied hearing about the family outings most of them had. Sure, her parents had given her many things, and she’d learned at a very young age how to put on a good front. Pam had been clever about fooling her parents and others when she’d pretended to be pacified with the so-called treasures they’d bought for her. And she appreciated that she’d been given nice clothes. At least that was something she was complimented for during her teenage years—that, and her good looks—especially from the boys.
Maybe this is why it bugs me so much about the way Stuart dresses, she thought. I just want him to look as nice as I do so people will be impressed.
Stuart hadn’t been such a slob before he’d married her. What had happened between then and now to make him change in his appearance?
Focusing on the scenery as they continued the drive home, Pam kept all those forgotten feelings from the past to herself. If she told Stuart any of this, he wouldn’t understand. He didn’t seem to want to communicate with her on any level these days.
Star noticed that as soon as Stuart and Pam stormed out of Emma’s house, the sewing room had become so quiet she probably could have heard a needle drop on the floor. Even Ruby Lee, who was usually quite talkative, sat drinking her coffee with a strange-looking stare.
Emma, looking more flustered than she had when the man with the doughnuts came by, stood near the window, looking out at her yard.
Star watched outside as a wasp flew around the overhang above the window, no doubt trying to find a place to build its nest.
Several more minutes went by; then Jan leaned close to Star and said, “I can’t say as I care much for know-it-all Stuart, but that wife of his is sure one whacked-out chick. You know what I’m sayin’?”
She gave a nod, glad that Jan saw things the way she did—at least where prissy Pam was concerned.
“I guess she had a right to be upset, but I’m sure Stuart didn’t bump her arm on purpose,” Paul spoke up. “Although I think she could have been a little more understanding when he said he was sorry.”
Would you have been understanding if someone had spilled chocolate milk all over your clean shirt? Star thought, although she didn’t voice the question. Seeing the way Pam and Stuart argued only confirmed in her mind that she was never getting married. Most of the men she’d known had been jerks, and even though Star didn’t care for Pam’s uppity ways, she’d actually felt a bit sorry for her when she dashed out of the house in tears.
“Women like Pam Johnston are never understanding; they’re just high maintenance,” Jan muttered. “Believe me; I know all about whacked-out, high-maintenance chicks.”
“Biker babes?” Star asked.
“Some yes, some no.” Jan reached for a doughnut and took a bite, followed by a swig of coffee. “The first biker babe I ever met was probably the most whacked-out chick of all.”
“In what way?” Star asked, her curiosity piqued.
“She could never make up her mind. One minute she wanted to get married; the next minute she didn’t.” A pained expression crossed Jan’s face as he slowly shook his head. “She took off one day without a trace—just like my old man did after my mom died.”
“How old were you when that happened?” Star questioned.
“I was seventeen when Mom died from a brain tumor.” Jan went on to tell that his drunkard father had split a year later, and then he’d lit out on his own. “I eventually learned the roofing trade and ended up in Shipshewana, where I started my own business,” he said.
“Losing your mother, and then having two people you loved run away must have been very painful.” Ruby Lee reached over and touched Jan’s arm. Her eyes, the color of charcoal, looked at him with such compassion that it made Star feel like crying.
It wasn’t bad enough that the burly biker had lost his mother, but then some fickle woman hurt him so badly that he still carried the scars of her rejection. To top it all off, having his dad take off had probably left Jan feeling a lot of animosity. Star could sure relate to that, since her own dad had done the very same thing. The only difference was Jan had known his dad for seventeen years, whereas Star had never known her dad at all.
“Yeah, it was all very painful, but I learned how to cope.” Jan swiped some crumbs from the front of his T-shirt. “You know Bunny was the only girl I ever really loved.” He pointed to the tattoo on his right arm. “I even had her name put here. But of course, that was when I thought she was gonna marry me. Now I realize what a jerk I was for believin’ her. Shoulda never got involved with her in the first place.”
Guess I’m not the only one in this room with hurts from the past, Star thought. It’s too bad people have to disappoint each other. If everyone had a heart of love the way Grandma did, the world would be a better place. I’m thankful I had her, even though we didn’t get to spend nearly enough time together.
Emma turned from the window and joined them at the table again. “No one is perfect. We all make mistakes, but we have to forgive and move forward,” she said.
Star grimaced. That’s easy enough for you to say. You’ve probably never made a mistake in your life. Well, walk in someone else’s shoes for a while, and then see what you have to say about forgiveness.
CHAPTER 14
As Jan pedaled home from the quilting class, he thought about his comments concerning the woman he’d once loved and wondered if he’d said too much. The way everyone had looked at him made him wonder if they thought he was some dumb guy who’d never gotten over his first crush. Or maybe they’d felt sorry for him because he’d been jilted. Either way, he figured it would be best if he didn’t say too much more about his personal life during the quilting classes. It was bad enough that during their first class he’d told them about his DUI. He’d signed up to learn how to quilt, not spill his guts about the past and hash things over that couldn’t be changed. Looking back on it, he figured he’d blabbed all that because he’d been uncomfortable the first day, unsure of what to expect and a bit embarrassed because he didn’t know how people would respond to a guy like him taking a quilting class.
Jan knew that he needed to quit worrying about what others thought. He also needed to forget his former life and look to the future. He’d been doing a pretty good job of that until he’d started blubbering about Bunny.
“Yikes, I’d better watch what I’m doin’,” he muttered, nearly losing his balance as he caught sight of some pretty azaleas blooming in a yard along the way. “Better pay closer attention to handlin’ this stupid bike and quit gawkin’ around, or I might end up on my backside.”
Continuing on, Jan pictured some azalea bushes around his small house. Maybe a few flowers would help it look a little homier and not so plain. He had a lot of yard space he could work with and really needed something to give the place some charm.
Vr … oom! Vr … oom!
“Now that there’s what I really need to be thinkin’ about,” Jan said as a motorcycle roared past. He could hardly wait to get his driver’s license back so he could take his Harley out and start riding again. He missed the exhilaration of zooming down the road with the wind at his back. He missed the power of the motorcycle underneath him.
Hang on, he told himself. Just a few more months and I’ll be home free.
When Jan pedaled up the driveway to his house, he noticed right away that his garage door hung
open. He glanced toward the house and grimaced when he saw Brutus lying on the front porch.
“Oh, great,” he muttered as the dog greeted him with a welcoming bark and a wagging tail.
Jan parked his bike, stepped onto the porch, and bent to pet the dog’s silky ears. “Hey, boy. How’d you get out of the garage, huh?”
Brutus whimpered and nuzzled Jan’s hand with his nose.
Jan took a seat on the top porch step as he contemplated the situation. When he’d put Brutus in the garage this morning before leaving for Emma’s, he’d thought he had shut the door.
I either must’ve forgot or didn’t close it tight enough. Should’ve paid closer attention, I guess.
Brutus ambled across the porch and picked up an old dilapidated slipper in his mouth. Then he plodded back and dropped it at Jan’s feet.
“Now where’d that come from?” Jan scratched his head. “Sure isn’t mine. Brutus, did you steal this from someone in the neighborhood?”
Brutus gave a deep grunt as he flopped onto the porch and stuck his nose between his paws.
Jan squinted. “Well, if you did steal it, then I guess I’d better get started buildin’ that dog pen right away, ‘cause I can’t have you gettin’ me in trouble with more of the neighbors.”
Goshen
As soon as Ruby Lee stepped into the house, she knew something was wrong. The newspapers that had been scattered on the coffee table when she’d left for the quilting class were still there, as well as Gene’s empty coffee cup, which sat in the middle of the strewn-out papers. Gene was a perfectionist and rarely left things lying around. His motto was “When you’re done with something, put it away.” He’d started a rule in their house back when the boys were small that when a person was finished with their dishes, they were to take them straight to the kitchen sink.
Gene was so meticulous that whenever he finished his coffee, he would rinse the cup out and put it right in the dishwasher. Since he’d obviously not done that this morning, nor had he picked up and folded the newspaper he’d been reading after breakfast, he’d either been called out because of an emergency or was upset about something and forgot.
Ever since they’d been having problems at church, Gene hadn’t been acting like his usual self at home. He seemed less talkative, became easily distracted, rarely played his guitar, and had become moody and despondent. At church, though, he went about his business, unwilling to let anyone in the congregation know how he really felt. Ruby Lee had tried talking to him about it but couldn’t get him to open up. If something didn’t happen to change the church situation soon, she feared he might have a nervous breakdown from holding his emotions inside.
I wish I could get through to him, Ruby Lee told herself as she bent to pick up Gene’s cup. I need to convince him that he should leave the ministry or at least seek a new church.
Ruby Lee took the cup to the kitchen, and as she was placing it in the sink, she spotted Gene out the window. He was sitting on the grass in the middle of the backyard with his legs crossed, staring up at the sky. It wasn’t like him to do that. For that matter, since he usually called on members of their congregation most Saturdays, it seemed strange that he was home at all.
Ruby Lee went out the back door and knelt on the grass beside him. “What are you doing out here?” she asked, touching Gene’s arm.
His forehead gleamed like polished ebony as he lowered his head and gave her a blank stare. “What do you mean?”
“Well look at you, hon. How come you’re sitting here on the grass staring up at the sky?”
“I was talking to God. Oh, yes, indeed.”
Ruby Lee tried not to act surprised by his statement, but she’d never known him to talk to God in this manner. Not that it mattered where, when, or how a person talked to God, but with the exception of the prayer they said at meals, Gene usually went to the church to pray. He’d told her on more than one occasion that he felt closer to God when he was on his knees in front of the altar. Ruby Lee would sometimes join him there, and they’d pray and meditate together, but she hadn’t done much of that lately. Maybe, like her, Gene just needed a change of pace. That was why she’d decided to take the quilting class. So far it had been a nice diversion, giving her something other than their church problems to focus on.
“Gene, I’ve been thinking about something,” she said softly.
“What’s that?”
“I think we should consider looking for another church. Or better yet, let’s get out of the ministry altogether. Now that we’ve moved from the parsonage and are in our own home, we’re not tied to the church. Since we both like to sing and each of us plays an instrument, maybe we could teach music lessons.”
Gene shook his head. “I’m not leaving the ministry, Ruby Lee. God called me to it, and I’m not going back on my promise to serve Him.”
“I’m not suggesting you stop serving God. I just think there are other ways you can serve besides pastoring a church full of ungrateful people. Even moving from the parsonage to our own place here, we can’t seem to escape all the gossip. And if things keep going as they are, you’re bound to cave in.” And so will I.
“‘Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him,’” Gene quoted from Job 13:15.
Ruby Lee swallowed hard. “Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of.”
He gave her arm a gentle pat and lifted his gaze to the sky again.
Sighing deeply, Ruby Lee rose to her feet and headed back to the house. Sweet Jesus, we need Your help in this. Please protect my man and make everything all right for us again.
CHAPTER 15
Shipshewana
Emma had spent a good deal of Wednesday afternoon shopping in Shipshewana, and had also stopped to see her friend Clara Bontrager. During their visit, the subject of Lamar came up, and Emma dropped a few hints about Clara and Lamar maybe getting together. She’d even gone so far as to say she thought they would make a good couple. Clara had completely vetoed that idea, however, saying that she’d been corresponding with Emmanuel Schrock, an Amish man from Millersburg, Ohio, whom she’d met when they’d both visited Sarasota, Florida, the past winter.
“I actually think Lamar is interested in you,” Clara had said.
“Jah, I know,” Emma mumbled, talking out loud, as she flicked the reins to get her horse moving a bit faster. “I just hope he realizes that I’m not interested in him.”
Not quite ready to go home, she decided to stop by a place she and Ivan used to go when they were courting. It was near a pond about four miles from where she lived. If she went there now and didn’t stay too long, she should still have plenty of time to get back before supper. Besides, she’d only be cooking for herself this evening, so it really didn’t matter what time she ate.
Heading on down the road, Emma slowed her horse to watch an English man on his tractor mowing his acreage. She smiled, noticing the tree swallows as they swooped and dove at the bugs flying out of the grass from the mower. The birds brought up another scene in her mind from long ago. This scene was of Ivan, strong and capable, walking behind their mules as he worked in the fields. She couldn’t help smiling back then, either, as the birds followed after her husband, looking for an easy meal.
As Emma guided her horse and buggy off the main highway and onto a narrow, graveled road, more memories flooded her mind. When she and Ivan had come here, either alone or with friends, they’d often shared a picnic supper, fished in the pond, or taken leisurely walks along the wooded paths. Not too much had changed since then, except the trees were much taller now. Back then everything had been more overgrown, of course, and not nearly as many people used the pond as they did now. Even so, coming here gave her a peaceful, nostalgic feeling.
Emma stopped her horse and buggy in a grassy spot, climbed down, and secured the horse to a tree. She was about to take off on foot in search of her and Ivan’s special spot when Lamar pulled up in his open rig.
“Wie geht’s?” he called.
Oh no. What’s he do
ing here? Emma forced a smile. “I’m doing fine. How about you?” she asked, a little less enthusiastically.
“Real well, thanks.” He climbed down from his buggy and lifted a fishing pole out. “Came here to do a little fishing. Would you like to join me, Emma?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
She shook her head. “I’m going for a walk and need to be alone.” There, that ought to discourage him.
A look of hurt replaced Lamar’s twinkle, causing Emma to regret her choice of words. It seemed like she was always saying the wrong thing when she was with Lamar, and even though she wanted to discourage him, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
“There’s a spot up the path that used to be my husband’s and my special place,” she said, pointing in that direction. “I like to go there sometimes and spend time alone, thinking about the past and thanking God for the wonderful years Ivan and I had together.”
Lamar gave a brief nod. “I understand. My wife, Margaret, and I had a good life, too.”
From the look of longing Emma saw on Lamar’s face, she figured he probably missed his wife as much as she missed Ivan.
“I’ll let you get to your walk now. Nice seeing you, Emma.” Lamar flashed her a quick smile and headed off toward the pond.
Emma turned and started up the path, seeking her place of pleasant memories and solace. The afternoon breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, and she noticed several bees dancing on the flower blossoms. What a lovely day it was for a walk.
The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club Page 10