Free The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club by Wanda E. Brunstetter

today would be a good opportunity for him to begin working on his quilting project. With Saturday only two days away, he wanted to be sure he’d done his homework as Emma had instructed. What she’d asked them to do seemed easy enough, so he was sure he could get it done quickly. He figured once he finished the wall hanging, he might try to make a full-sized quilt. He could donate it to one of the local benefit auctions. There always seemed to be plenty of those going on in the area, since that’s how many of the Amish raised money to help with medical expenses. One thing for sure: Jan couldn’t wait to tell his probation officer when he saw her next week that he’d found something creative to do.
     
    He thought about Emma and smiled. Through his job and living in Shipshewana, he’d met other Amish people, but he hadn’t gotten to know any of them very well. Emma Yoder seemed like the type of person who easily made friends, and her patience with those in the class last Saturday made him think she was easygoing and accepting of others.
     
    Emma kinda reminds me of Mom, God rest her soul, Jan thought as he gulped down his lukewarm coffee and headed to the living room to get the material he needed. She’s even got that same perky smile and soft way of speaking Mom had. Wish I could say the same for my dad
.
     
    Jan’s mother had died from a brain tumor when he was seventeen. A year later, his dad split for parts unknown, never to return. Jan was an only child, and since he had no intention of living with his drunken uncle, Al, he lit out on his own, doing whatever odd jobs he could find and living in the back of his beat-up van. Jan ended up in Chicago for a time, where he’d bought a motorcycle, joined a club, and met the girl he thought he would marry. When things went sour, he stuck around for a while but finally moved on, doing everything from slinging hash at a diner in Sturgis, South Dakota, to boring factory work in Springfield, Missouri. Several years later, while living in Grand Rapids, Michigan, Jan learned the roofing trade under the guidance of a motorcycle buddy who had his own business. After a few years, Jan became restless, so he moved on and eventually ended up in Shipshewana, where he’d opened his own business. It was the first time he’d stayed in one place for more than a year, and since he really liked it in this quiet, quaint little town, he felt sure he would stay.
     
    Jerking his thoughts back to the present, Jan was about to grab his sack of material when someone knocked on the front door.
     
    “Now I wonder who that could be,” Jan mumbled, ambling across the room. With the rain coming down as hard as it was, he couldn’t imagine anyone being out in this weather. He could hear the rain from inside as it pelted his roof.
     
    When Jan opened the door, he was surprised to see Selma Nash, the elderly woman who lived in the house next door, standing on his porch. She held a black umbrella in one hand, but it hadn’t done much to protect her clothes, because the skirt of her dress and sleeves on her light-weight jacket were wet.
     
    “‘Mornin’, Selma. What brings you to my door on this rainy spring day?” he asked, offering her a smile and hoping it would wipe away the deep frown that graced her wrinkled face. “Is everything okay?”
     
    Selma’s frown deepened. “No, young man, everything’s not okay.”
     
    “No?”
     
    She shook her head.
     
    “What’s wrong?”
     
    “I’m getting sick and tired of your dog tearing up my flower beds. If you don’t do something about it, I’m going to call animal control and have that mutt hauled off to the pound!”
     
    Jan’s eyebrows shot up. “Brutus is here in the house with me. Fact is, he’s sleepin’ under the kitchen table right now, so I don’t see how he can be diggin’ in your flower beds.”
     
    Selma lowered her umbrella and gave it a little shake. “Now don’t you play games with me, Mr. Sweet. I know