Read Online Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] by Shadow on the Quilt - Free Book Online

trust her own brother, even though he’d proven himself over and over in recent years. Margaret swallowed. “It’s difficult for Sadie to trust,” she said. “Life hasn’t been easy.”
    “For either of you.”
    Meyer’s expression was so kind. Could God be answering her prayers for Sadie after all this time? “You are correct, Mr. Meyer, that in most circles in America, it is the custom that a man asks permission of the father before proposing marriage to his daughter.”
    Mr. Meyer nodded. “And Mr. Gregory is gone, as is Mr. Nash, Sadie’s stepfather. May God rest their souls. Which is why I ask you.”
    Margaret smiled at him. “Neither my opinion nor her brother’s will matter to Sadie.”
    “That may be true,” Mr. Meyer said, “but it matters to me.”
    Tears sprang to Margaret’s eyes. What a generous soul. He treated her as if she were just a mother with a daughter of marriageable age. An honorable woman. She blinked and looked away.
    “I’ve upset you,” Meyer said. “I am so sorry.”
    Margaret shook her head. “You haven’t upset me. You’ve amazed me.” She paused. “I haven’t been respected in a very long time by anyone other than my son.”
    Meyer shrugged. “We are all the same in God’s eyes, yes?”
    “If you really believe that,” Margaret said, “you are a rare man.”
    Meyer blushed. “You haven’t answered my question.”
    “If Sadie will have you,” Margaret said, “I will be tempted to believe that God answers prayers—even for people like me.”

CHAPTER 6
    Surely every man walketh in a vain shew … he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them.

P SALM 39:6
    A lfred drove the Sutton women to Lincoln in the town coach. All the way in, Juliana replayed the argument she and Sterling had had when he ordered it.
    “It’s too ostentatious,” she’d protested.
    “It’s practical. It will keep my aunts out of the weather. And Alfred will feel like a king up on the driver’s seat.”
    “You’re the one who wants to play at king.”
    Remembering it made Juliana wince. That argument had gotten entirely out of hand. She gazed off toward the north, wishing she’d taken that ride today. It would have done her good to get the fresh air and to get her blood moving. Would she always feel like she was wading through mud?
    When Aunt Theodora sniffed, Juliana looked over at her. “I’m seventy years old.” She choked out the words. “I was supposed to be next. Not—not the dear boy. It isn’t right.”
    “Of course it isn’t right,” Aunt Lydia said, and took her sister’s hand. “Death is our enemy. An outrage against those God created in His image.”
    “Why couldn’t God take me? I’ve had my time. He should have taken me and left Sterling.” Aunt Theodora shook her head. “What was he
thinking
running into a burning building?” Tears flowed down her cheeks. “And Reverend Burnham.” She shook her head. “Was there ever a man so devoid of tact.”
    Aunt Lydia squeezed her hand. “I am so sorry.”
    “You?” The older woman glared at her. “What do you have to be sorry for? He’s
my
minister.” She sighed. “Job’s comforters. I suppose each generation has a few.”
    The coach had just reached the outskirts of Lincoln when Aunt Theodora said crisply, “We must contact your committee as soon as possible to move that quilt.”
    “That won’t be necessary,” Juliana said. “Aunt Lydia’s friends will be a comfort to her. I have a feeling to us all, if we’ll let them. I want them to come and work on the quilt as planned.” She paused, almost afraid to say it. “I do
not
want to transform our home into a crepe-draped mausoleum.” She’d known Aunt Lydia would approve of the way she wanted to do things, and the woman’s expression proved her right.
    She spoke up. “I know you don’t particularly enjoy needlework, Theodora, but it can be very soothing.”
    “Soothing? It’s drudgery made lighter by the opportunity to