A Thread of Truth. Marie Bostwick
Abigail, and Margot entered carrying project bags and trays loaded down with platters of cheese, fruit, and other snacks, plus a bottle of wine. Liza brought up the rear carrying a tray with a collection of mismatched coffee mugs I recognized as coming from the break room.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, remembering what day it was. “I’d forgotten this was your quilt-circle night. I’ll get out of your way.” I zipped my jacket and grabbed my purse.
“Not so fast!” Margot declared cheerfully. “Take off your coat and sit down. We have a surprise for you!”
“You do?”
“Evelyn, you tell her. After all, you’re our official leader.”
“There’s a dubious honor, but all right.” She cleared her throat as if about to make an important announcement. “Ivy, we are all here to tell you that, after about two seconds’ deliberation, you have been voted into the membership of the Cobbled Court Quilt Circle.”
“Hear! Hear!” Margot said. Liza and Abigail put down the trays they were carrying and clapped.
I was stunned.
“Oh. Gosh. That’s nice of you, really, but I can’t. I’ve got to get home to my kids.”
“We’ve already taken care of that,” Abigail reported. “Franklin has volunteered to watch Bethany and Bobby on Friday nights so you can spend your evening with us.”
“He did?”
Franklin Spaulding was a very nice man. The kids were crazy about him, but…“You shouldn’t have asked him to do that. It’s sweet of Franklin, really it is, but watching my rascals every Friday night? It’s too much to expect.”
“Nonsense!” Abigail injected, interrupting me again. “Franklin volunteered to do it, and besides, Bethany and Bobby aren’t rascals, they’re perfectly darling. Franklin loves being with them. After a week at his law office, dealing with the real rascals of the world—bankers, accountants, and, worst of all, other lawyers—your children are an absolute breath of fresh air.”
I tried another approach. “But…I’m not a very good quilter. I’ve only made that one log cabin quilt in Evelyn’s class.”
Liza took one of the mismatched mugs from the tray and filled it. “Okay, now you’re just making excuses. Except for Evelyn, none of us knew a presser foot from a pastrami sandwich this time two years ago. Trust me, our standards of membership are extremely low. I mean, look at us,” she said, raising her cup. “We’re here drinking cheap wine out of cracked coffee mugs. This isn’t exactly the Daughters of the American Revolution you’d be joining.”
“That wine was not cheap,” Abigail corrected. “It’s a 2003 pinot gris. The last of a very good vintage from my personal wine cellar.”
“Well, we’re still serving it out of coffee mugs. So, I don’t see where Ivy is getting the impression we’re such an exclusive club. Heck,” she said blandly, “we’ll take anyone. We need the dues.”
Margot, who was very sharp when it came to marketing and business but was known for being gullible, furrowed her brow. “Liza, we don’t charge any dues, do we?”
She turned to Evelyn. “When did we decide to start taking dues?”
“Liza’s kidding,” Evelyn said.
Liza’s eyes sparked mischief as she peered over the rim of the coffee mug. Margot, realizing she’d been duped again, gave her a good-natured nudge in the ribs.
“Ivy, we’d really love it if you’d join us.” Evelyn smiled, waiting for me to say yes.
A moment passed.
“If you’re put off by the coffee cups, we can get some real glasses,” she joked.
I pressed my lips together, trying to come up with some excuse that they’d buy, but nothing came to mind.
They were all standing there, certain that I would never dream of refusing this gift of time and friendship they were offering me.
With all my heart, I wished I could accept it. But that was impossible.
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “You’re so kind to want to include me, but I really can’t.”
Their faces fell.
“But, why not?” Margot asked. “You’re just worried about leaving the children with someone else, aren’t you? I’ve volunteered to watch them for you a dozen times, but you’ve never once taken me up on it. Don’t worry, Ivy. Bethany and Bobby will be fine with Franklin.”
“Of course they will,” Evelyn affirmed. “But if you’re that worried, we could even bring them over here. I’m sure Garrett wouldn’t mind watching them at his apartment as long as Franklin was there to help. That way, if the kids needed you, you’d be right across the hall.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that.”
“Well, then, what is it?”
“I can’t. I just can’t.”
The room was silent again. Four pairs of eyes looked at me; the smiles of the previous moment faded. They just stood there, waiting for me to offer some reasonable explanation for my behavior. None existed. At least, none that wasn’t a complete lie, and I didn’t want to lie to them. I was tired of lying.
From the moment I’d come to work at Cobbled Court Quilts, these women had been nothing but kind to me. For no reason other than their own goodness, certainly not because of anything I’d done, they’d accepted me into their community, given me a chance to create a safe home for my family, cared about my kids—even made quilts for them. I remembered how I had cried, actually cried, when Abigail gave Bethany the beautiful pinwheel quilt she’d made herself. No one had ever shown such kindness to my children or, by extension, to me. I was so touched.
But even so, I couldn’t permit myself to be drawn further into their circle, opening myself up to the kinds of questions and confidences that would follow if I did. Evelyn might say there were no dues, but she was wrong. The price of membership was honesty and trust, and that was something I couldn’t afford. They were good women, kind women, but even so…an inadvertent slip, a careless contradiction in my history accidentally passed from me, to one of them, to someone outside, could shred my story into confetti.
No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t accept their friendship. But I couldn’t lie to them either. They deserved better than that.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just can’t.”
Abigail, always insistent on cutting to the chase, pushed the issue. “Can’t or won’t?”
I took a breath.
“Won’t.”
I picked up my purse and went to the door. Their eyes followed me, and the expressions on their faces felt like accusations. Margot and Liza looked confused, and Abigail looked offended, but it was the wounded look in Evelyn’s eyes that stung me most. She was the last person I wanted to hurt.
But at least you didn’t lie to her, I thought. That should count for something. Shouldn’t it?
Maybe it should have, but it didn’t seem to make my weekend any easier. When I left the shop, my guilty feelings trailed behind me like a chain. After I got back to the apartment, I thanked Franklin and Garrett for watching the kids but said I wouldn’t be needing them anymore. I was so exhausted that I got into my pajamas right away, thinking that I’d just go to bed when the kids did.
I didn’t want to think about Monday and what it would be like to go back to the shop and work side by side with Evelyn and Margot, whose feelings I had hurt. And come Monday morning, we truly would be working side by side. Earlier that day, Evelyn said she’d need my help getting ready for the second-anniversary sale that would take place the following weekend.