Free The Half-Stitched Amish Quilting Club - 02 - The Tattered Quilt by Wanda E. Brunstetter

say about Cheryl.”
    “Who’s Cheryl?” Jan asked.
    “That hot-looking blond I plan to take out,” Terry proclaimed, blowing rings of smoke.
    Jan cranked his head as they drove past the parking lot of the local grocery store.
    “Hey! You’d better watch where you’re going!” Terry shouted.
    “Oh, yeah, sorry. I was checking out that Harley in the parking lot back there.”
    Terry glanced back at the cycle. “It’s a nice one, all right.”
    “About that date,” Jan said, “did you get anywhere with it?”
    Terry shook his head. “Not yet.”
    “Did she show any interest in you at all?”
    “No, and I don’t wanna rush it. Just give me a chance to work my charm on her.”
    Jan shook his head. “I still say she’s not your type, and I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
    “Well, you know what they say…opposites attract.” Terry swallowed as he flicked what was left of his cigarette out the window. “She sure is pretty and seems really nice, and I’m definitely attracted to her.”
    “You know, I do have an ashtray,” Jan muttered.
    “I didn’t think there was room in there. Not with all the gum wrappers and stuff you have jammed inside. When was the last time you cleaned out this truck anyways?” Terry asked.
    “Been awhile, I guess.”
    “Been awhile?” Terry looked at Jan, raising his brows and pointing at the dashboard. “I’ll bet I could tell you every burger joint you’ve stopped at within the last month by all the Styrofoam cups and wrappers you have stuffed up there. It looks like you’ve been living in this truck.”
    “S–weet, isn’t it?” Jan snickered. “This rig is sorta like my man cave, you know.” He poked Terry with his elbow. “Anyways, back to this Cheryl gal. What if the interest you have in her ain’t mutual? Then what are you gonna do?”
    “Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
    “Sure, whatever. Why don’t you tell me about Selma? How’d she do at the quilt class?”
    Terry grunted. “I don’t even know why she came. She already knows everything about making a quilt.”
    Jan’s eyebrows furrowed. “She does? Then why she’d agree to take the class?”
    “Maybe she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Or maybe she really doesn’t know much about quilting and was just trying to act like she does.”
    Jan gave his index finger a quick pop before grabbing the wheel again. “You know, I’ll bet that’s it. It don’t surprise me, neither. Selma probably acted like a know-it-all to cover up for what she doesn’t know. She’s one complicated woman.”

     
    Selma set her plate of scrambled eggs on the kitchen table and heaved a sigh as she took a seat. Another day of having breakfast and wishing she had someone to share it with. She missed her husband and daughter so much. She couldn’t bring John back from the dead, and she’d all but given up on ever seeing Cora again. Selma attended church on a regular basis, yet she had no real friends. Everyone had their own families, like she’d had once, and what would anyone want to do with a lonely old woman?
    Selma took a bite of her scrambled eggs and tried not to let images from the past clog her brain like they’d done so many times before. The last thing she wanted to do was stir up old memories. All it did was make her yearn for the past. And she knew all too well that the past was the past, and there was no getting it back.
    She glanced at the calendar on the wall near the sink.
Well, at least I have another quilting class to go to. I just wish I didn’t have to wait until Saturday
.
    Selma had all of her squares cut out and couldn’t wait to start sewing them together. If she weren’t afraid of her teacher’s reaction, she’d use her own sewing machine and sew them this week instead of waiting to do them during class.
    A thump on the back porch drove Selma’s thoughts aside, and she pushed away from the table. Since the thump wasn’t followed by a knock on the door, she