Elm Creek Quilts [07] The Sugar Camp Quilt by Jennifer Chiaverini Read Free Book Online Page B

is a fine idea, but perhaps Mr. Wright would prefer a Rail Fence quilt. I have enough blocks finished. Do you remember how he admired them?”
    “We don’t have time to stitch your blocks together. Besides, this is a gift for the bride. The flowers will suit the occasion.”
    Dorothea said nothing.
    “Constance Wright came north with little more than the clothes on her back,” said Lorena. “Wouldn’t she treasure this beautiful quilt? Wouldn’t it be a wonderful expression of the friendship we hope will grow between us?”
    “It would,” said Dorothea. Her mother watched her so expectantly that Dorothea could not bring herself to explain that she had not quilted the top because she was saving it for her engagement party. Everyone in the Elm Creek Valley expected the bride-to-be’s best friend or sister to host a special quilting bee where the bride’s thirteen tops would be unveiled and all the women would help quilt them. Telling her mother this would be no use. Lorena did not believe that people should allow custom to dictate their behavior, especially if it steered them away from finer impulses such as kindness and generosity.
    Dorothea was not betrothed. Even if she became engaged that afternoon, a highly unlikely occurrence, she might still have time to make another bridal quilt before the wedding. She had saved her sketches and most of her templates. She could make another.
    “I suppose it would make a fine gift,” she said. Her mother smiled and hurried off to find some clean muslin to wrap it in. Dorothea turned her attention to the cake, a hollow sensation growing in her heart. Back at Thrift Farm, she had been taught not to value earthly possessions. She felt ashamed that her instinct was to snatch the quilt top from her mother’s arms, race off to the attic, and stash it away in some secret place.
    She tried to think only of Constance Wright’s happiness as the cake baked and she and her mother packed a basket with jars of preserves, a new ball of butter, and other things Mrs. Wright might need. As Dorothea’s father helped them into the wagon, her mother told her that, as the maker, she ought to be the one to present the quilt to the bride.
    “What quilt?” said Uncle Jacob as he shook the reins to get the horses underway. When Dorothea’s mother explained about the gift, Uncle Jacob said, “Whose idea was this?”
    “I suppose it was my idea,” said Lorena. “But it is Dorothea’s generosity that makes it possible.”
    Uncle Jacob shook his head. “Lorena, let the girl keep her quilt. Look at her. She’s holding it so tight she might squeeze it in two. Mrs. Wright doesn’t expect any fool wedding present from people she doesn’t even know.”
    “It’s fine, Uncle,” said Dorothea. “I can make another.”
    “It took you all winter to make that one.”
    Longer, actually , Dorothea was tempted to reply, but instead she said, “It’s just as well. I will need something to keep myself occupied in the evenings, since I will no longer have lessons to prepare.”
    Uncle Jacob snorted. “If you need something to do, I will find work for you.”
    Dorothea glanced at her mother, who shot her a look of warning. “Thank you, Uncle,” she said. “Anything to be useful.”
    He peered over his shoulder at her, perhaps sensing something less than sincere in her tone, but she looked away, gazing at the passing scenery as if she had not seen those hills and trees a hundred times before.
    They followed the road south for a mile, past lakes and marshland until they reached the ford over Elm Creek. They climbed down from the wagon as they crossed the waterway on the ferry, Uncle Jacob and Dorothea’s father holding tightly to the reins of the horses. Dorothea withdrew to the railing and watched the town on the distant riverbank. At the ford, the creek was merely an eighth of a mile across, the waters calm unless a storm stirred them. Among the young men of the valley, it was considered a test