Free The New Year's Quilt (Elm Creek Quilts Novels) by Jennifer Chiaverini Page B

and yellow, and hope for the best.
    If anything proved that Claudia was not a responsible, loving elder sister, her insistence upon that quilt pattern should have done so. Why had Claudia insisted upon that bad-luck block instead of choosing from among her favorites? Was she only trying to annoy Sylvia, as she so often did, or was she deliberately wishing her new sibling misfortune?
    Despite Sylvia’s reluctance, they finished the quilt in two months. Her mother’s proud smile as she draped the blue-and-yellow quilt over the cradle filled Sylvia with warmth and happiness, easing her worries. If Mama said everything was all right, if Mama thought the quilt was not to be feared, then surely it must be so.
    The weeks passed and their mother’s slight figure grew rounder, but only around her tummy. Her limbs were thin and pale, her face shadowed. Sylvia woke one morning to find that Dr. Granger had been summoned in the night. Mama was all right, Great-Aunt Lucinda assured her, but the doctor had ordered her to remain in bed until the baby was born. Great-Aunt Lucinda made the girls promise not to play loudly in the house, and not to trouble their mother with any unpleasantness. “If ever we needed you two girls to get along, this would be the time,” she said with a sigh. “Try not to argue, but if you must, please do it in whispers. Outside.”
    “What if it’s snowing?” asked Claudia. “What if it’s dark?”
    “I don’t care if it’s a blizzard at midnight. If you’re so angry at your sister that you must express it or burst, take it outside to the barn.”
    After Great-Aunt Lucinda hurried away to their mother’s bedroom, Claudia whirled upon Sylvia. “Did you hear that? You’d better behave yourself.” She trotted off after Great-Aunt Lucinda without waiting for a reply.
    Sylvia gritted her teeth, balled her hands into fists, and stalked upstairs to the nursery, sick with anger and worry. The baby was not supposed to come until the middle of January, which meant that Mama had to stay in bed a whole month. She would miss Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Sylvia did not know what might happen if Mama disobeyed the doctor’s orders—she dared not ask—but she could imagine the worst. This time Mama must listen to Father and rest.
    No matter how Claudia provoked her, Sylvia would not shout and argue. She would let Claudia have her way and the last word in every discussion if she had to hold her own mouth shut with her hands. Until the baby was born and Mama was allowed out of bed, Sylvia would be the perfect daughter her mother deserved.
    For the first few days, Sylvia stuck to her vow so diligently that her father asked her if she felt all right and Great-Aunt Lydia often frowned and felt her forehead as if she believed only illness could subdue Sylvia’s naughtiness. Claudia glared at her, suspicious, but was apparently unwilling to be the one to break the tentative truce. Sylvia tried to make her newfound obedience less obvious, but she couldn’t help feeling annoyed by the attention her good behavior drew. Did everyone really believe she was ordinarily so naughty that a few quiet days made such a difference?
    At first Sylvia’s mother submitted to the doctor’s orders without complaint, but after a week, she grew restless and bored. One morning, Sylvia passed by her parents’ bedroom door and overheard her mother telling her father that she felt strong enough to leave bed. She longed to sit on the front porch, watch the snow fall, and breathe deeply of cold, fresh winter air. “As long as I rest, it shouldn’t matter if I’m in bed or in a chair,” she said. “Dr. Granger didn’t mean for us to take his suggestion so literally.”
    “It was an order, not a suggestion, and you can ask him to be more specific on his next visit.” Sylvia’s father tucked the bedcovers around his wife, but she impatiently flung them off again. “Until then, we’re going to assume that ‘bed rest’ means