Free Threads of Hope: Quilts of Love Series by Christa Allan

whatnots for now.”
    Becca, a hospice nurse, joined the group a few months ago after seeing a quilt they’d made that belonged to one of her patients. “I may not be a seamstress,” she said when she introduced herself, “but I can operate a pair of scissors and thread a needle.”
    Crystal and her mother Kelley were members of Living Faith church and helped the group secure the Fellowship Hall for their meetings. Crystal’s twin sister, Carlys, after several trips to rehab, still couldn’t stay clear of drugs. She died of AIDS when she was sixteen from a needle share. Kelley said the quilting group and just pushing a needle to create something good were all the therapy she needed since her daughter’s death more than five years ago.
    Greg set his coffee down before walking to the tables where the finished quilts awaited final inspection. Last year, the group had decided to make one quilt for children and one for adults. The children’s quilt was designed using a pattern called Cupcake, but they nixed using a cupcake fabric. Greg thought it might be too limiting, and despite all the gender neutral talk, he didn’t think cupcakes would appeal to parents of boys. Instead, they used a fabric featuring apple green, orange, and aqua colored giraffes against a bright yellow background sprinkled with cherry red hearts. The quilt’s border was a polka dot fabric of complementary colors, and edging the border were strips of yellow gingham. Greg thought he might have to bid on this one himself because his daughter loved seeing the “stretchy” giraffes as she called them, and he could already picture her giggling and pointing to the diamonds of the happy-colored animals.
    Greg flipped over the bottom right corner. “Aren’t we sewing one of the ‘Threads of Hope’ labels on the back?”
    “Oops. See, you really are helpful. I’m on my way to get one, and I’ll be right back,” she said. She took a few steps then turned around. “Doc, best check the other one.”
    “This one’s ready to go,” he said seeing the circle logo of their group carefully stitched to the back of the double pinwheel spin patterned quilt. Though the quilt used only five different fabrics, the nine pinwheels were all sewn over the same lime green firefly-designed diamonds, which were stitched over nine snow-white squares of fabric. Two of the pinwheel arms were sewn from a hot pink fabric with red-and-lime green paisley prints. The other fabric featured a white background with hot pink added to the paisley print. Greg thought the almost retro-colored fabric and design might attract some of the younger attendees at the benefit.
    Martha returned with a threaded needle and a label. “We need to write Elise a thank you note for donating all this fabric,” she said as she held the quilt corner, her thumb holding the label straight while her needle flashed through the fabric.
    “She doesn’t expect that,” Greg said.
    Martha paused, cocked her head to one side, and narrowed her eyes. “Now, Doc, we’re not doing it because she expects us to. We’re doing it because we want to. And it’s the right thing to do, to tell people you appreciate them for helping you get somewhere you need to be.”
    “Guess I needed to be reminded of that,” he said, thinking of the backlog of thank-you notes he should’ve written. Beginning with Nina who, all those years ago in high school, started him on his journey toward compassion. And Lily who traveled the road with him. And Jazarah for bringing it to life.

    Nina stepped into the elevator and stared straight into the eyes of Brady Lambert. “What . . . how . . . why are you here?”
At least I’m incoherent when no one else is here
. Before she could step aside, he reached around to press the button for their floor. His arm grazed hers and she caught a wisp of his familiar Dolce & Gabbana woody-citrus scent.
    “Hmm. I still work here, right?’ He shifted his black leather camera bag just