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Authors: Emilie Richards
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you.”
Kendra was silent. Having someone else speak the truth and bring it out in the open helped.
“I should have bought a clunker,” she said at last.
“I’ll be with you.” Elisa turned on the stove and prepared to heat their lunch. “And if it doesn’t go well, we will just try again later. Sam wouldn’t have mentioned it today except that we’re both concerned you’re here alone. And since you won’t ask for help, we hope you will begin to drive soon.”
They ate outside on the porch, and Kendra told her friend about the snake. Elisa was properly impressed. When the conversation turned to the cabin, Kendra explained about Helen and the barn.
“Have you called Manning Rosslyn?” Elisa asked. “He sometimes attends the church with his wife. He’s an older man. Tall and broad. She is younger, blond and thin.”
“I haven’t called yet. But I’d like to see the barn. Maybe we could drive out that way and look at it.”
They finished eating and took their empty plates into the kitchen. As Kendra rinsed, Elisa prowled the living room, looking at the few personal touches Kendra had added.
She held up the corner of the Lover’s Knot quilt Kendra had draped over the rocker. “This is what they call a signature quilt, isn’t it? An old one.”
“I seem to collect them. That one is an heirloom from Isaac’s family.” Kendra had begun collecting antique quilts more than a year ago. She had four that she’d bought in D.C. area shops. But the Lover’s Knot was her favorite. She knew little about it—only that Leah had done her best to ensure that the quilt, along with this house and land, would make its way to the grandson she had never known.
The quilt was double-bed size and not an inch more. The binding was wearing thin. There were age spots, and about a third of the fabric blocks were noticeably faded. Although the color choices—scrap prints of greens, blues, purples and reds—were lovely, two things set the quilt apart.
The first were the signatures, all neatly embroidered in several strands of black thread but scattered over the surface as if they’d been sprinkled at random. The other was the quilting itself. Quilts of the era had often been stitched with parallel intersecting lines or half circles traced from dinner plates and saucers. Accomplished quilters had added complicated feathers and wreaths, vines or flowers. The Lover’s Knot quilt had lines that meandered with no discernible pattern or plan.
This was not a quilt that had won prizes at a county fair. Yet the top itself was far too well designed and the pattern too complex to be a simple utility quilt stitched in haste to warm a cold bed.
“It looks at home here,” Elisa said, smoothing it back into place.
Kendra hoped that if the quilt had been made in this cabin, Helen might know some of the people whose names were embroidered on it or where to find their descendants. But first she had to tell Helen about Isaac’s relationship to Leah. She had never wanted to hide their connection; she only wanted to proceed carefully. Now she realized that if she waited too long, it would look as if she was ashamed.
“The quilt never looked at home in the condo,” she told Elisa. “I doubt Isaac will notice it’s missing.”
“He’s not taking the move well, is he?”
Kendra dried her hands. “It’s not logical. He can’t get past that. But he’ll throw himself back into work now that I’m gone.”
“He will be visiting?”
Kendra wondered. Isaac had told her not to expect him for a while. She wasn’t sure if that was to punish her or merely because he had taken so much time off while she was in the hospital that he now had to make it up.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m supposed to call if I need anything.”
Wisely, Elisa said nothing.
Kendra brushed her hair and got her keys from the bedroom. Then she joined her friend on the porch. “Now or never, huh?”
“Now or later. The right moment is your
Kendra was silent. Having someone else speak the truth and bring it out in the open helped.
“I should have bought a clunker,” she said at last.
“I’ll be with you.” Elisa turned on the stove and prepared to heat their lunch. “And if it doesn’t go well, we will just try again later. Sam wouldn’t have mentioned it today except that we’re both concerned you’re here alone. And since you won’t ask for help, we hope you will begin to drive soon.”
They ate outside on the porch, and Kendra told her friend about the snake. Elisa was properly impressed. When the conversation turned to the cabin, Kendra explained about Helen and the barn.
“Have you called Manning Rosslyn?” Elisa asked. “He sometimes attends the church with his wife. He’s an older man. Tall and broad. She is younger, blond and thin.”
“I haven’t called yet. But I’d like to see the barn. Maybe we could drive out that way and look at it.”
They finished eating and took their empty plates into the kitchen. As Kendra rinsed, Elisa prowled the living room, looking at the few personal touches Kendra had added.
She held up the corner of the Lover’s Knot quilt Kendra had draped over the rocker. “This is what they call a signature quilt, isn’t it? An old one.”
“I seem to collect them. That one is an heirloom from Isaac’s family.” Kendra had begun collecting antique quilts more than a year ago. She had four that she’d bought in D.C. area shops. But the Lover’s Knot was her favorite. She knew little about it—only that Leah had done her best to ensure that the quilt, along with this house and land, would make its way to the grandson she had never known.
The quilt was double-bed size and not an inch more. The binding was wearing thin. There were age spots, and about a third of the fabric blocks were noticeably faded. Although the color choices—scrap prints of greens, blues, purples and reds—were lovely, two things set the quilt apart.
The first were the signatures, all neatly embroidered in several strands of black thread but scattered over the surface as if they’d been sprinkled at random. The other was the quilting itself. Quilts of the era had often been stitched with parallel intersecting lines or half circles traced from dinner plates and saucers. Accomplished quilters had added complicated feathers and wreaths, vines or flowers. The Lover’s Knot quilt had lines that meandered with no discernible pattern or plan.
This was not a quilt that had won prizes at a county fair. Yet the top itself was far too well designed and the pattern too complex to be a simple utility quilt stitched in haste to warm a cold bed.
“It looks at home here,” Elisa said, smoothing it back into place.
Kendra hoped that if the quilt had been made in this cabin, Helen might know some of the people whose names were embroidered on it or where to find their descendants. But first she had to tell Helen about Isaac’s relationship to Leah. She had never wanted to hide their connection; she only wanted to proceed carefully. Now she realized that if she waited too long, it would look as if she was ashamed.
“The quilt never looked at home in the condo,” she told Elisa. “I doubt Isaac will notice it’s missing.”
“He’s not taking the move well, is he?”
Kendra dried her hands. “It’s not logical. He can’t get past that. But he’ll throw himself back into work now that I’m gone.”
“He will be visiting?”
Kendra wondered. Isaac had told her not to expect him for a while. She wasn’t sure if that was to punish her or merely because he had taken so much time off while she was in the hospital that he now had to make it up.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m supposed to call if I need anything.”
Wisely, Elisa said nothing.
Kendra brushed her hair and got her keys from the bedroom. Then she joined her friend on the porch. “Now or never, huh?”
“Now or later. The right moment is your
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