âAnd where did you get that quilt?â
The girls set aside some planks of wood theyâd carried upstairs, and Laura chuckled as she approached the bed to look at it. âThose are butterflies! Made from folded hankiesâ some of them with cool crocheted borders! I canât see Grandma working on a bright, flowery piece like this one.â
â Jah, she tried to talk me out of using prints, saying theyâd be impractical when I got older,â Rosetta replied as she gazed fondly at the quilt. âI was maybe fifteen when I made this one, from hankies that had belonged to my mammaâs mother and her sisters when they were in their rumspringa . Can you tell I really loved pink back then?â
Phoebe ran a reverent finger over one of the butterflies. âSo you folded the hankies to make their wings, and then embroidered the body and their antennaeââ
âAnd stitched them onto pale pink squares before you put them together with this bright pink calico,â Laura finished with a grin. âWhat a wonderful way to save these hankiesâand theyâre in prettier prints than the ones you find in the catalogs now.â
Rosetta smiled, pleased that her nieces shared her love for family pieces that would otherwise have grown yellow with age in the attic. âI thought it was time to use these linens instead of hiding them away in my chest,â she said, hoping her voice didnât waver. âI wonât be getting married, but I will be welcoming new rentersââ
âOh, Aunt Rosetta, you canât mean that!â Laura blurted.
âYou should never give up hope that the right fellow will come along,â Phoebe insisted as she held Rosettaâs gaze with her blazing blue eyes. âIâve been praying for that, and I believe it will happen now that weâve moved away from Coldstream!â
Part of Rosetta wished she hadnât gone down this conversational trail, because she recalled feeling the same romantic fervor, the same endless hope, when sheâd been her niecesâ age. But it was time to let the girls know that she felt happy and fulfilled with the maidel life God had granted herâtime to explain that the single life offered opportunities rather than a reason to feel shame or loneliness.
âTruth be told, the right young man was courting me when I was twentyâyour age, Phoebe,â Rosetta replied with a wistful smile. âTim was helping my dat take down a dead tree. He was climbing up high to saw off some of its branches, and the top section of the tree gave way. When Tim hit the ground, his neck brokeâand the accident broke our spirits for a while, too.â
Lauraâs face fell and tears filled Phoebeâs eyes. âIâwe had no idea,â she murmured.
Rosetta smiled sadly. âWe didnât talk about it much. You were a wee little girl when it happened and Laura wasnât yet born,â she explained. âA few years later, both Mamm and Dat started having health problems, so it was the natural order of things for me to stay home and look after themânot that I wanted to get serious about anybody after Tim passed away. I was sure heâd been the man God intended for me to marry.â
Rather than get into a theological discussion about why God had allowed her beau to die, Rosetta smoothed the butterfly quilt beneath the two pillows with their embroidered cases. âMamm and I enjoyed sewing together, so I cherish the pieces we made because we passed many happy hours,â she remarked. âSeveral of those quilts are still in my trunk, and now Iâve got the perfect place to use them. Come and see my other wild quilt!â
Rosetta playfully steered the two girls into the next room. She grabbed the edge of the quilt sheâd left on the unmade bed and shook it open. âCan you tell your grandma didnât make this one, either?â she teased.
Laura laughed
Kent Flannery, Joyce Marcus