Chapter 9 #2
My grandmother was a seamstress by trade, so she left me a treasure trove of fabric, ribbon, rhinestones, and such that would be great for the hats I was customizing.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I opened a plastic bin and found it filled to the brim with precut quilt squares, triggering a memory of one of Olla’s quilt projects.
She had discovered a tear in one of the middle squares after she finished the quilt.
The flaw was big enough that she had to take the entire quilt apart and then work on putting it back together.
I picked up a green-and-pink striped square, feeling its soft fabric. Reflecting on the flawed piece from Olla’s quilt, I saw myself in it. As the flawed Wilder who tore my family apart, I now had to take responsibility for mending it.
I replaced the lid to the bin and moved to the next one. “Oh my gosh. How could I have forgotten about this?” I pulled out a strip of fuchsia-and-coral quilt squares already sewn together. “Oh, Olla, you never got to finish it.”
The baby-blanket time is so short, I want to make something Fern can use for a long time. This will be her big-girl blanket.
My grandmother had taught me how to sew by the time I was eight, so I felt confident I could finish this gift she started.
I moved the container over to the sewing table.
Thankfully, Olla had a hand-drawn diagram of the quilt pattern.
She’d even colored it in so I could see the coral pinwheels with pink backgrounds.
An hour passed easily as I pinned pieces together. I’d forgotten how fun projects like this could be. Stopping mid-pin, I decided this should be a treat for after finishing other tasks, so I finished pinning the piece, then went back to my original job at hand.
“Focus, Junie.”
I gathered my findings and moved up to the workroom.
I settled down at the table and lost myself for a while with drawing out a sunflower design on a floppy boho hat.
I used fabric paint to color the design.
While it dried, I flipped through a box filled with vintage bookmarks until finding one with a sunflower.
I cut it in half and tucked it along the decorative band.
I’d seen examples of artists using playing cards, so I figured the bookmarks could work too.
Once the hat was complete, I switched my focus to setting up social media accounts for Fernie’s Fancifuls: Custom Hats and Accessories.
I loaded pictures of the pieces I’d already finished—several pairs of earrings made from felt, suede, and copper wire; two cowboy hats with patchwork sections and hand-painted designs.
The pyrography pen I’d ordered was due to arrive this week.
I couldn’t wait to try my hand at burning designs on hats and other pieces.
Feeling quite accomplished, I moved downstairs to cross off the last item on today’s list, calling my brother.
Even though there was still a good bit of ice in his tone and he had the attitude of a man paying penance for a crime he didn’t commit, he kept accepting my calls.
I made sure to check in with him quite often to prove I wasn’t going anywhere, that I would continue to show up from now on.
Not in the physical sense right now, but eventually.
Last week, I’d been hopeful that things were turning around when I noticed he actually texted me. But as soon as I read it, that hope went out the window.
Where’d you get that money?
Instead of thanking me for the check I’d sent him, he attacked with accusations.
I was half tempted to text some smart-aleck reply—I had a great weekend moving some merchandise for my dealer—but I didn’t.
Cy had never appreciated my snarky humor.
I simply told him the truth, that I sold my car. His reply was just as simple. Oh.
Taking a deep breath now, I called Cy and he answered on the third ring.
“Hey.”
“Hey. How’s it going?” I leaned against the sink and looked out the window, finding Henry with his head bent toward his laptop on the back patio.
Cy cleared his throat. “I’ve been pretty busy.”
I waited a beat for him to elaborate, but of course, he didn’t. “Have you finished up with school for the summer?”
“Mostly.”
Henry looked up from his laptop and our eyes met.
Offering him a brief smile, I moved away from the window and started rummaging in the pantry for a snack.
“That’s great. Y’all should head to the island.
” I stopped plundering when I heard his pensive sigh, already accepting his rejection.
“Sometime soon then. So . . . The dog walking is going well and I got a lot done on my website today. Boy, I sure am glad for YouTube.” I laughed but turned it into a cough when he didn’t join in.
I wanted to scream and demand to know why he had to make this so hard.
Did I deserve this? Maybe, but darned if it wasn’t getting old.
“You’re still making time for AA meetings, right?”
I glared at the shelf of canned soups. “Yes. I join a few virtual meetings each week. I downloaded this app that helps me locate meetings. It’s quite helpful. And I attended one in person last night. The church ladies fed us barbeque pork chops. Yum. Yum.”
“I hope you’re getting more out of it than just food.”
My brother’s sharp tone nearly set me off, but I managed to rein it in.
“We do a devotion and then they open it up to anyone who’d like to share.
Some give their testimony. Others are just having a bad day and need to vent.
The group is super supportive and encouraging.
It’s nice to have people be so kind to you even if you’re a loser like me. ”
Cy breathed a haughty chuckle. “Poor Junie. I bet you love playing your little victim role with them.”
I slammed the pantry door and pretended to punch it. “What are you talking about?”
“What was it that Olla used to say, The squeaky wheel gets the grease?” The familiar idiom hit its mark. “It’s always something with you, and then you go whining about it like you’re the only person with problems.”
I placed my forehead against the door. “I’m so tired of this.”
“You’re not the only one.”
Straightening, I spun around. “Well then, we best call it a night.” I ended the call for a change but found no satisfaction in beating him to it.