Free Elm Creek Quilts [10] The Quilter's Homecoming by Jennifer Chiaverini

Rodriguez. She’s much prettier than Isabel.”
    “I’m telling you, that’s her. She’s a friend of my cousin. That was her little brother and sister with her, not her kids.”
    The men argued good-naturedly as they left the store and approached the three siblings. Isabel pretended not to see them, but they strolled over, all too casually. “ Buenos días, Isabel,” her friend’s cousin greeted her. “Do you know my friend, Miguel Diaz?”
    Miguel, whom she recognized as a boy a few years ahead of her in school, smiled in a friendly, hopeful way, but Isabel returned an icy glare. “Only by what one overhears.”
    Miguel winced, but his friend grinned.
    “It’s Isabel’s birthday,” her younger sister piped up. “You should tell her happy birthday.”
    “ Feliz cumpleaños, Isabel Rodriguez,” said Miguel, with a regretful look that begged for an apology. She was only sixteen, but the past year had not been kind to her. Someone she barely knew thought she looked old enough to have children ages ten and thirteen. Isabel hardened her heart, gave her friend’s cousin a curt nod, and took the children home.
    She sent her brother and sister out to play while she put beans on to soak and made tortillas. She ached for her mother. She longed for her to walk through the front door, smile in her fond and gentle way, and tie on her apron. She wished her mother could be beside her, teaching her all the treasured family recipes she had learned from her own mother. On Christmas, Isabel had tried to make tamales the way her mother had always done, but her brother complained that they tasted nothing like Mami’s and her sister left hers untouched on her plate. Nothing was right without their mother. Nothing had been right since they had left the little cabin on the ranch so many years before. She wished she were still that five-year-old girl, safe and happy within the lie that all would be well in her world, that she would always be loved and protected and happy.

Chapter Four
    1925
    E lizabeth woke in the middle of the night, shivering. She groped around at the foot of the bed for the comforter that she had folded out of the way when she first climbed beneath the covers, certain she would not need it, not in California. She drew it over herself and snuggled closer to Henry, who put his arm around her and slept on. The landlady had told them she kept extra quilts in the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, but Elizabeth was too cold to climb from beneath the covers to find one. She wished again for her wedding quilt, still tucked away in the trunk her brother had given her, bundled protectively around their fine china. Elizabeth puzzled over the curious cold snap until she grew warm enough to fall back asleep.
    It was still early when she woke again. Henry had already risen and was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his shoes. He saw that she was awake and leaned across the bed to kiss her. “Good morning,” he said. “Better get up soon if you want breakfast before we go to the station.”
    Elizabeth would have gladly done without breakfast if it meant reaching the Arboles Valley sooner, but their tickets were for the midmorning train and it wouldn’t do them any good to wait on the platform for hours. She threw back the covers and quickly washed and dressed. It took only moments to repack her suitcase, and soon they joined several of the other guests in the dining room, where their landlady was serving breakfast.
    “You folks leaving so soon?” inquired a traveling salesman seated across the table. “You won’t find many places on the road as hospitable as this.”
    “Flatterer,” scoffed the landlady, but Elizabeth noticed that she added an extra pancake to his stack.
    “If we weren’t expected elsewhere, we’d be happy to stay another night,” said Elizabeth, with a smile for her hostess. “We’re on our way to the Arboles Valley.”
    The salesman turned an inquiring look upon Henry. “What do