The Quilting Circle Page 6

  She sidled in a bit closer, not so forward as to brush up against him, or hook her arm through his, but just a little closer. They had taken no more than three steps when she noticed the distance was back between them. She sidled in a bit closer once more, hoping that the distance Thomas had put between them was simply a coincidence. Three more steps in, it seemed there was even more space between the two of them.

  “You’re mad.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Why would I be mad?” Thomas asked. He opened the door of the tractor and helped her inside. He might be upset with her, but he was still a gentleman.

  A few seconds later, he swung himself up into the cab beside her. “My plan was simple, me and my girl coming out to enjoy the fall weather. Then the next thing I know, I’m staring down her supposed best friend who is all but kissing another girl in front of everyone. Why would I have any cause to be mad about that?”

  Was this a trick question? She wasn’t sure. Did she tell him the entire truth? Or just enough to ease that pain in his eyes? “Obie’s just being ridiculous. He’s trying to make me mad.”

  Thomas snorted, then started the tractor. “He’s trying to make you jealous.”

  A small bark of laughter escaped her, but there was no humor in the sound. “He’s trying to make me jealous? Why would he do something like that?”

  Thomas gave her a look akin to the one her grandmother had given her the day before. Why was everybody thinking that she knew what was in Obie’s mind and heart? She had no idea what he truly felt, only that he didn’t want her to marry Thomas.

  “Obie has no reason to want to make me jealous.” She said the words as emphatically as she could, and they zinged around the cab of the tractor.

  Thomas pinned her with another look, but this one was almost as unreadable to her as Greek. “You think so?”

  “What reason would Obie have to make me jealous? What purpose would that serve?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, Clara Rose. Why don’t you tell me?”

  Chapter Six

  “How much longer till you get the kids?” Mariana asked at the next quilting circle. Everyone had been steadily keeping up with Eileen’s quest for foster children. Her dream was about to become a reality. Two little girls were coming to live with her. Sisters. They needed a mother now more than ever. Their own had been injured in the same car wreck that killed their father. Because of her injuries, she had become addicted to prescription painkillers, and between that and the depression, the poor woman had made a couple of bad choices and was now serving some time in jail. Who knew if she would ever get her life back in order enough that she would be able to care for her children. In the meantime, someone needed to take care of them, as their extended family was unwilling.

  Clara Rose couldn’t imagine how anyone’s family would be unwilling to take care of two small girls. She had seen the picture that Eileen had brought in the last meeting, and the girls were adorable. Big brown eyes, soft curly blond hair. They looked like little angels. Clara Rose’s heart went out to all involved.

  “It may be a little while yet. But I’m hoping before Thanksgiving they’ll be here. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Eileen’s eyes lit up in a way Clara Rose had never seen. The woman had wanted to have a child for as long as she had known her. Not that it was a great long time. Clara Rose had only been coming to the quilting circle for the last couple of years, but what Amish woman didn’t want to have children? A whole passel of kids running around, playing games, helping with chores, and otherwise carrying on the Amish way of life to the next generation. Wasn’t that what it was all about?

  It was what she wanted. More than anything. To get married and have kids. With Thomas at her side. It was all she had ever wanted.

  “That would be good,” Mariana said. But she ducked her head over her quilt squares when she spoke, and Clara Rose had wondered if watching Eileen foster children was something of a heartbreak for the other woman. Clara Rose couldn’t imagine how either one of them felt, in their forties and not able to have kids. Lord please . . . she prayed. But she stopped herself before she could complete the thought. It was selfish to ask for such a blessing. She could only hope that the Lord would see fit to give her the children that she wanted. Even as she wondered why the two gracious and kind women in front of her were barren. It just didn’t make sense. She knew everyone around her said it was God’s will. And she supposed it was. His will was something she tried so hard to accept each and every day of her life. But if she thought about it hard, maybe even too hard, she came up with more questions than answers. And God’s will didn’t seem to always satisfy them. Most times, she just chose not to think about it. Not question Him and pray that one day she would understand.

  Clara Rose turned her attention back to the quilt squares folded in her lap. This was the stitching-together time, where they took the quilt squares they’d previously made and stitched them into blocks that would eventually be sewn together to form the complete quilt top. She wanted to ask Marianna how Leroy, her husband, was doing, but every week the woman appeared to be more gaunt than the week before, a little less happy, with dark circles forming under her eyes. The doctor had said Leroy probably wouldn’t live past December, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to his illness. Another fact that Clara Rose hoped she never had to face.

  “Auntie?”

  Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the voice. Obie.

  “In here,” Eileen said.

  Seconds later, Obie’s face appeared at the large door that led to the bonus room. He had an apple in one hand and a grin on his face as he surveyed the room at large. Clara Rose couldn’t help but notice that his gaze landed on her for only a split second before he looked away. She still hadn’t spoken to him since that night at the hayride. Things were beginning to get more and more awkward between the two of them. Something that she didn’t want. If they could just keep things smooth until after the wedding, she knew everything would be okay. But it seemed that Obie had other plans.

  “Just another week, and I’ll bring that puppy to you,” Obie said, his attention back on his aunt.

  But Eileen shook her head. “I don’t want a dog right now, nephew,” she said. The large grandfather clock in the hallway chimed out two dongs, which signified that the time to quilt was over. Most quilting circles ended around two so the women could get home in time to take care of the children coming home from school or get the supper ready for their dairy-farming husbands, who had to milk the herd at four. Since none of them had children walking home or husbands who ran dairy farms, it seemed a little strange that they would quit at the same time. But there was something to be said for tradition.

  Everyone got up and started packing up their things, storing the quilt squares, and cleaning up the mess of threads and scraps. In no time at all, everyone was gone except for her, Mammi, Obie, and Eileen.

  “Are you coming with me?” Mammi asked, one hand on the doorknob.

  Clara Rose looked back to Obie, unsure of how to answer. She wanted to stay and talk to him. But she wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to her at all. Especially not after Friday night.

  But his gaze snagged hers and held. Those green eyes were unreadable as he studied her face.

  “I’ll take her home,” he said without blinking or breaking the contact between them even once.

  “Suit yourself,” Mammi said and let herself out of the house.

  “Can we talk?”

  As much as she wanted to say yes, there was another part of her that wanted to tell him no. “What good is talking at this point? Every time we talk, all we do is fight.” Clara Rose shook her head.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, Rosie. I just want to—” He broke off with a shake of his head, then turned back around, his green eyes pleading. “Please. Just stop and hear me out.”

  She hesitated, then finally nodded. “Okay. For a bit. It’s getting cold outside.”

  Obie nodded an
d waited for her to don her sweater before the two of them made their way down the porch steps and around the back of the house. The sky was laden with gray clouds, and the wind held the definite chill of the approaching winter. But Clara Rose knew from experience today could be fifty and tomorrow could be eighty. Oklahoma weather was as unpredictable as her own feelings.

  They walked for a few moments in silence, each with their hands in their pockets as they trudged through the brown clumps of grass between Eileen’s house and Obie’s.

  With all the quiet, if the wind blew just right, she could hear the bark of the puppies on Obie’s farm. The sound brought a smile to her lips.

  “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in weeks.”

  Was it? “You haven’t been around a lot.”

  “Are you saying I’m the reason for your frown?”

  Clara Rose stopped and shook her head. “I don’t want to do this, Obie. I don’t want to fight with you. It’s not any fun.”

  Obie stopped as well, turning to face her, his expression as clouded as the sky above. “I don’t want to fight with you either, Rosie. You’re the most important person in my life, and I can’t imagine it without you.”

  This. This was what she had been waiting on. She had been praying for this first step in reconciliation between the two of them. The first step toward understanding and a compromise, the bridge between the changes they were making in their lives. She was getting married to Thomas, and Obie needed to understand that. With a little work, they could turn what seemed to be a dead end to their friendship into something much, much more. There was no reason why the two of them couldn’t remain friends just because she and Thomas were getting married. And whatever Obie had in his thoughts, it was time for him to let them go, to trust her judgment with Thomas and to know and trust that Thomas was the man he presented himself to be.

  “I feel the same way, you know,” she said. And she did. The last thing she wanted to do was lose him in order to gain her other dreams. It just didn’t seem fair that she couldn’t have both.

  She said a small prayer of forgiveness at those selfish thoughts. God knew what was in her heart and understood her.

  “I know.” His words were soft, strained, as he took a step closer. His eyes were unreadable as he tugged her hands from her pockets and held them in his own. His fingers were warm and callused. Hands that did good work. Trusting, loving hands.

  “Promise me,” he said.

  “Anything.” She said the word without hesitation. They’d come around the bend on this snag in their friendship. And they were climbing that hill toward understanding. They would get there. They would survive this.

  “Promise me things won’t be different once you marry him.” His voice cracked on those last two words. He cleared his throat. “Promise me.”

  Clara Rose tilted her head back to stare up at him. He tugged her just a bit closer, the tails of her coat brushing against his. “I promise.”

  His eyes turned a deep emerald green, a color she’d never seen before, and had an intensity she hadn’t known he could feel.

  “Thank you,” he whispered into the space between them, and then all of a sudden there was no space. And his lips touched hers.

  Was this real?

  Clara Rose wanted to shake her head. It couldn’t be. But she didn’t move for fear of losing the contact she now had with Obie. It was sweet, and her lips tingled where his touched hers. Her eyes fluttered and closed as she let the beauty wash over her. It was just the two of them, just a small kiss between friends.

  Obie lifted his head and stared into her eyes, searching for something, though she had no idea what. Then he released her hands and cupped her face in his palms, pulling her mouth to his once again.

  Clara Rose leaned in to him. His lips were warm, heating the air around them. His kiss was gentle, heady, everything she’d ever dreamed of in a kiss, and it went straight to her head. She wanted to step in closer. Instinctively she wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go. As first kisses went, it was the best. And he was her best friend. Obie.

  Obie!

  Her eyes snapped open. She couldn’t kiss Obie.

  She clasped his hands into her own and pulled them from her face, stepping back and away from him even as she wanted to draw closer than before.

  His eyes snapped open and centered on her. Even as close as they stood to each other, she couldn’t read his expression. “Clara Rose?”

  “We can’t do this.” She shook her head.

  She took another step away even as Obie took one toward her. “No, no, no, no, no.”

  She was getting married to Thomas in just a few weeks. Yet she’d kissed Obie as if her life depended on it. What made her any better than Ivy Weaver?

  “Clara Rose, just listen.”

  She shook her head again. “No.” She turned on her heel and started back toward the house. She had to get away. She had to get away now. Maybe if she ran fast enough she could catch up with her grandmother. Her legs started to run. And run.

  “Clara Rose!” Obie called from behind her.

  She ran faster.

  She thought she heard him call, “I’m sorry,” as she continued up the hill, but it could have been the wind whistling in her ears.

  She ran on.

  Chapter Seven

  Clara Rose could hardly wait for Tuesday’s quilting circle to come back around again. There was something about sewing, especially quilting, that captured her mind and calmed her wayward thoughts. And right now she needed all the calming she could get.

  All she could think about morning, noon, and night was Obie’s kiss. She had been so distracted she ran into the wall in the kitchen and now sported a huge purple bruise on her forehead.

  She managed to avoid both Thomas and Obie for the entire weekend. It seemed the more time she spent with either one of them, the more confused she became. And she really needed to be able to avoid running into any more walls. Truth of the matter was, she needed to trust Thomas, love him unconditionally as God had intended, and bind their hearts together so they could go through the rest of their lives as one. But she also had to trust Obie. He was her best friend and had been for as long as she could remember. He always looked out for her, always had her best interests at heart. But after that kiss . . . It’d gone beyond that now. She had heard rumors flying around on Sunday that Obie had been seen running around with Ivy all weekend, driving in her Mustang car and going here and there and who knew where else. She needed to do something, and she needed to do it quickly before Obie found himself in more trouble than he could get out of. She needed to save him from himself. But how?

  She looked up from the quilt squares that she was stitching together. They were almost done with the top. Soon they would add the batting and the backing; then they would edge it and quilt it all together. It would be a beautiful quilt to put up for the Clarita auction come next fall. She was sort of glad that this quilt was going off to help the school, not only because it would help others, but because if it had been her quilt, she didn’t know if she could look at it without remembering all this turmoil. This was supposed to be the happiest time of her life, and yet every night she prayed for peace and understanding and understanding and peace.

  Lord, just help me be patient as we get through this crisis. Give us support and peace in our thoughts as we get through this time. And Lord, in Your infinite wisdom as we near the wedding day, please help us through to that bright patch on the other side. Amen.

  “Verna,” Eileen started, “will you be able to sew the rest of these squares together?” Of the group, Mammi was the one with the least responsibilities to family and kin. So she was usually the one who sewed the final quilt squares together. Everyone at this quilting circle sewed as many squares together as they possibly could while there. Then Clara Rose’s grandmother took the six or so blocks to piece together into the final quilt top. After that, the true quilting would begin.

  “Of course. Of c
ourse,” Mammi said.

  “It’ll be so exciting to see it as a quilt top, don’t you think, Clara Rose?” Tess asked.

  Clara Rose nodded. “Jah, that it will be.”

  Everyone folded up the squares they were working on and gave them to her mammi before gathering up their things to go.

  “What in the world?” Mariana said, pointing to the golden retriever puppy sitting in the middle of Eileen’s living room.

  It was about the cutest thing Clara Rose had ever seen. Big brown eyes and fluffy golden fur. Her fingers longed to run themselves through that soft fur, and get a bunch of puppy kisses for her effort.

  “Obie, come out here!” Eileen shouted.

  Of course it was Obie. He was the only Amish golden retriever breeder in the area. And he had the prettiest and sweetest puppies that anyone could ever want to have.

  He ducked out of the kitchen, half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in one hand and a glass of milk in the other.

  “Don’t they feed you at home, boy?” Eileen asked, though her eyes twinkled. It was so obvious she loved her nephew very much. Maybe even more so since his twin had decided to run off to Pinecraft and delay his joining the church by several months.

  “Just thought I’d bring him to visit today.” He smiled and took a gulp of the milk.

  “He better not pee on my clean floor,” Eileen said.

  Obie shook his head. “Tater would never do that. He’s a good pup, and he’s already housebroken.”

  “I am not taking a puppy from you,” Eileen said.

  “Aw, Auntie, the kids are going to love it.”

  “It’s going to be enough work with two little kids running around the house. We’re not accustomed to having children underfoot. The last thing we need is a puppy in here too.”

  Obie looked crushed, and Clara Rose noticed that he never once turned his gaze to her. Did he feel as awkward as she did about the kiss they’d shared? Was she the only one who’d felt that tingle, that zing? Must be.