I'm not. I don't have a weak heart. I don't.”
“I know you don't,” Miss Langley said. “You have the strongest heart of anyone I know.”
She extended a hand, and when Eleanor took it, Miss Langley pulled her onto her lap. Eleanor clung to her and fought off tears. She would not cry and prove that everyone was right about her, that she was fragile and a baby.
Miss Langley stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Eleanor, darling, don't judge your parents too harshly. They're doing the best they know how.”
Eleanor made a scoffing noise and scrubbed her face with the back of her hand.
“Good heavens, Eleanor, please use a handkerchief.” She handed Eleanor her own. “From the time you were a baby, your parents were told you would surely die. Try to imagine what that must have been like for them. Some families might have responded by spoiling you, by giving you your heart's desire every day of your life to make up for all the days you would not have. Other families distance themselves from their child so that when that terrible day comes they will be able to bear it. It wounds them a little every day to do so, but they tell themselves that they can survive these wounds. They think only of the size and not their number.”
Eleanor sat silently, absorbing her words, but a merciless voice whispered that Miss Langley was only trying to be kind. The simple truth was that her parents didn't love her. How could they, when her poor health made her such a disappointment?
Miss Langley was watching her with such compassion that Eleanor couldn't bring herself to say what she really felt. Instead she said, “I wish my parents had been the kind who gave their child her heart's desire.”
“I for one am glad they are not. You would have been insufferable.”
Eleanor smiled, and when Miss Langley offered the quilting lesson a second time, she accepted.
To avoid Harriet's prying eyes, they carried Miss Langley's sewing basket outside and spread a blanket in the shade of the apple trees on the far side of the garden. Eleanor hugged her knees to her chest as Miss Langley unpacked needles and thread, her favorite pair of shears, and several small bundles of muslin, velvet, satin, and silk, which Eleanor recognized as scraps Mother's dressmaker had discarded.
Miss Langley had also brought along two diamond-shaped “blocks” for a new Crazy Quilt she had begun. “Most Crazy Quilts use squares as the base unit shape,” she said, “but I chose diamonds.”
“Then I'll use diamonds, too.”
With Miss Langley's guidance, Eleanor carefully cut a diamond foundation and appliquéd a velvet scrap to the center. She then selected a triangular piece of dark green silk and held it up to the foundation, trying it in one position and then another, until she liked the angles and shapes it created. She stitched it in place, sewing over one edge of the velvet in the center. In this fashion she added more fabric scraps, working from the center outward, varying the angles and sizes of the added pieces to create the characteristic random appearance. When the entire surface of the foundation was covered, she trimmed off the pieces that extended past the edges until she had a Crazy Quilt diamond like Miss Langley's, if not quite so perfectly made.
“Shall I begin another?” asked Eleanor, reaching for the muslin to cut a new foundation.
Miss Langley shook her head. “You haven't finished this one yet. Has it been so long since you've seen my quilt that you've forgotten about the embroidery?”
“But I already know how to embroider. I want to learn more quilting.”
“You've embroidered on solid fabric,” said Miss Langley. “Embroidering a Crazy Quilt is quite another matter. Your stitches will follow the edges of the patches, so you will have to sew through seams, which you have never tried. You also need to learn how to choose the perfect stitch for each piece. A skilled quilter uses a variety of stitches to achieve
“I know you don't,” Miss Langley said. “You have the strongest heart of anyone I know.”
She extended a hand, and when Eleanor took it, Miss Langley pulled her onto her lap. Eleanor clung to her and fought off tears. She would not cry and prove that everyone was right about her, that she was fragile and a baby.
Miss Langley stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Eleanor, darling, don't judge your parents too harshly. They're doing the best they know how.”
Eleanor made a scoffing noise and scrubbed her face with the back of her hand.
“Good heavens, Eleanor, please use a handkerchief.” She handed Eleanor her own. “From the time you were a baby, your parents were told you would surely die. Try to imagine what that must have been like for them. Some families might have responded by spoiling you, by giving you your heart's desire every day of your life to make up for all the days you would not have. Other families distance themselves from their child so that when that terrible day comes they will be able to bear it. It wounds them a little every day to do so, but they tell themselves that they can survive these wounds. They think only of the size and not their number.”
Eleanor sat silently, absorbing her words, but a merciless voice whispered that Miss Langley was only trying to be kind. The simple truth was that her parents didn't love her. How could they, when her poor health made her such a disappointment?
Miss Langley was watching her with such compassion that Eleanor couldn't bring herself to say what she really felt. Instead she said, “I wish my parents had been the kind who gave their child her heart's desire.”
“I for one am glad they are not. You would have been insufferable.”
Eleanor smiled, and when Miss Langley offered the quilting lesson a second time, she accepted.
To avoid Harriet's prying eyes, they carried Miss Langley's sewing basket outside and spread a blanket in the shade of the apple trees on the far side of the garden. Eleanor hugged her knees to her chest as Miss Langley unpacked needles and thread, her favorite pair of shears, and several small bundles of muslin, velvet, satin, and silk, which Eleanor recognized as scraps Mother's dressmaker had discarded.
Miss Langley had also brought along two diamond-shaped “blocks” for a new Crazy Quilt she had begun. “Most Crazy Quilts use squares as the base unit shape,” she said, “but I chose diamonds.”
“Then I'll use diamonds, too.”
With Miss Langley's guidance, Eleanor carefully cut a diamond foundation and appliquéd a velvet scrap to the center. She then selected a triangular piece of dark green silk and held it up to the foundation, trying it in one position and then another, until she liked the angles and shapes it created. She stitched it in place, sewing over one edge of the velvet in the center. In this fashion she added more fabric scraps, working from the center outward, varying the angles and sizes of the added pieces to create the characteristic random appearance. When the entire surface of the foundation was covered, she trimmed off the pieces that extended past the edges until she had a Crazy Quilt diamond like Miss Langley's, if not quite so perfectly made.
“Shall I begin another?” asked Eleanor, reaching for the muslin to cut a new foundation.
Miss Langley shook her head. “You haven't finished this one yet. Has it been so long since you've seen my quilt that you've forgotten about the embroidery?”
“But I already know how to embroider. I want to learn more quilting.”
“You've embroidered on solid fabric,” said Miss Langley. “Embroidering a Crazy Quilt is quite another matter. Your stitches will follow the edges of the patches, so you will have to sew through seams, which you have never tried. You also need to learn how to choose the perfect stitch for each piece. A skilled quilter uses a variety of stitches to achieve
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