Read Online Elm Creek Quilts [12] The Winding Ways Quilt by Jennifer Chiaverini - Free Book Online

that she preferred to give the top to Judy, the only one of the grandchildren capable of finishing it properly. Judy was touched by the gesture but told Carrie to keep her inheritance, adding that it was fine to leave the top as it was, as they all remembered it. Leaving it unquilted was, in fact, what quilt restorers recommended for antique tops.
    Judy looked around the cornerstone patio at the women passing the candle from hand to hand, some sharing amusing tales, others confiding their most closely guarded secrets. She could imagine their disbelief and indignation if she confessed her own secret, that for most of her life, a quilt symbolized love and acceptance denied, a circle closed against her. Not until coming to Waterford and joining the local guild had she learned about the abiding friendships nurtured around the quilting frame. Only after knowing Sylvia, Gwen, and the others did understanding come like a revelation: Judy’s grandmother had never learned to quilt, or she would have finished the tulip top herself. Perhaps if she had been a quilter, she would have found it unthinkable to use a quilt as a tool of division, setting her granddaughters against one another and setting Judy apart. Perhaps if Grandma had quilted, she would have understood the necessity of contrast and value, of joining together what seemed too dissimilar to fit, and thereby creating strength and beauty and enduring bonds.
    The time to leave the protective circle at Elm Creek Manor was too quickly approaching. Nothing could replace these dear friends, their presence in her life or their place in her heart, but Judy had learned that wherever quilters were, friendship abided. Though miles would soon separate Judy from the other Elm Creek Quilters, their friendship would endure, and wherever the winding ways of her life’s path led her, there she would weave new ties, forge new bonds, and she would help her daughter to do the same.
    The Elm Creek Quilters had shown her how.
     
    Sylvia cut the last four pieces for Judy’s quilt, four triangular shapes with flat bases and concave sides, curving and narrowing until they met at a point. She had searched her stash for the perfect fabrics for her departing friend, silky prints with images of tortoises and cranes, symbols of the land of Judy’s birth. She chose reds and golds, Vietnamese colors of celebration, but mixed in reds and blues, the school colors for the University of Pennsylvania. The shifting hues marked the winding ways Judy had followed from Saigon to Elm Creek Manor to her new life in Philadelphia. For the lighter pieces, Sylvia plucked from her stash a half yard of a whimsical fabric—navy images that resembled computer circuits and diodes on a white background. For the life of her Sylvia could not remember purchasing such an odd print, but it had found its way into her stash somehow, and at last she had the perfect use for it. She smiled as she traced around her template on the wrong side of the fabric, imagining Judy’s laugh of delight when she held her quilt—or rather, her portion of a larger quilt—and interpreted the different symbols Sylvia had hidden within the scraps.
    When that day would come, Sylvia did not know, but winding paths often curved back upon themselves, and Sylvia hoped Judy would not delay her return journey too long. Though Judy must leave them, she would always have a place at Elm Creek Manor. When she returned, Sylvia would present her with her gift of friendship and show her how it fit into the greater whole.

Sarah
    T hey know,” Sarah told her husband, blinking up at the ceiling in the early morning sunlight.
    Matt, already showered and almost dressed, sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks. “Are you sure? They’re acting perfectly normal. Normal for Elm Creek Quilters, anyway.”
    “That’s only because they don’t know that I know they know. When they’re able to show that they know, that’s when the uproar will begin.”
    Matt