Moon Over the Mountain Read online

  Publisher: Amy Marson

  Creative Director: Gailen Runge

  Acquisitions Editor: Roxane Cerda

  Managing Editor: Liz Aneloski

  Project Writer: Teresa Stroin

  Technical Editor / Illustrator: Linda Johnson

  Cover/Book Designer: April Mostek

  Production Coordinator: Tim Manibusan

  Production Editor: Alice Mace Nakanishi

  Photo Assistant: Mai Yong Vang

  Cover photography by Lucy Glover and Mai Yong Vang of C&T Publishing, Inc.

  Cover quilt: Moon Over the Mountain, 2014, by the author

  Published by C&T Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 1456, Lafayette, CA 94549

  A Quilting Cozy Series

  by Carol Dean Jones

  Left Holding the Bag (book 10)

  Tattered & Torn (book 9)

  Missing Memories (book 8)

  The Rescue Quilt (book 7)

  Moon Over the Mountain (book 6)

  Stitched Together (book 5)

  Patchwork Connections (book 4)

  Sea Bound (book 3)

  Running Stitches (book 2)

  Tie Died (book 1)

  Acknowledgments

  My sincere appreciation goes out to my special friends Phyllis Inscoe, Janice Packard, Sharon Rose, and Barbara Small.

  I thank each of you for the many hours you have spent reading these chapters, for bringing plot inconsistencies and errors to my attention, and for your endless encouragement.

  I would like to offer special appreciation to Joyce Marlane Frazier who has tirelessly combed through this manuscript and the entire series looking for those pesky errors that evade the author’s eye.

  Thank you, dear friends, for all your hard work and for bringing fun to what could otherwise have been a tedious endeavor.

  “Another retreat?” Sophie asked. “Is this one on a boat?”

  “It was a ship, Sophie, not a boat. But this one is in the mountains,” Sarah responded, opening the magazine to the page she had marked. “It’s this one,” she added, pointing to a picture of a log cabin lodge and a group of women on the front porch proudly holding up their quilts.

  Sarah slipped her reading glasses on and read the article aloud. “Quilting in the Great Smoky Mountains. Go back to a simpler time and enjoy the tranquility of the mountains as you learn about southern Appalachian culture while making a memory quilt. Relax on the porch, enjoying the spectacular mountain setting, or hike with local guides along the streams and through the forests to breathtaking scenic spots rarely seen by outsiders. Learn about mountain arts and crafts from local artisans while creating a quilt to display your fondest memories.”

  “So, Sophie. How about it? Do you want to go with me?” Sophie was Sarah’s best friend, a short, rotund woman with an infectious laugh and the best friend a person could have.

  “Me? I don’t quilt. For that matter, I don’t hike. I do sit on the porch and relax … but I can do that right here.”

  “So you don’t want to go with me?”

  “Well,” Sophie began, sitting down at the table and picking up her third donut, “I’d probably go with you if it weren’t for Higgy. He wants me to go to Alaska with him in the spring so he can meet Timmy, and I’d better save my traveling energy for that.” The previous year, Sophie met Higgy, who described himself as a creative card consultant, although she later learned this was a major exaggeration. Higgy’s real name was Cornelius Higginbottom, but Sophie announced that his name had entirely too many syllables for her taste, so she coined him Higgy.

  “I can see that,” Sarah responded. She knew Higgy was interested in becoming much more serious with her friend, and meeting Sophie’s son was a good way to move that process forward. “If you change your mind, I’m sure I can get you in. Just let me know. You won’t have to quilt; I promise.”

  Leaving Sophie’s house, Sarah looked across the street and saw her previous home, now empty and with a For Sale sign in the small front lawn. She felt a moment of nostalgia, remembering all the times she and Sophie had scurried back and forth between their homes. Sarah and Charles now lived in their new house on the other side of the Village.

  As she walked to the corner and headed up the street to her home in The Knolls, Sarah smiled to herself, remembering all the adjustments she and her new husband had made as they struggled with being newlyweds at their age. In their seventies, it was no easy task getting beyond their own habits and preferences. They were settled now and both wondered, in retrospect, why it had been so difficult.

  Within minutes, Sarah was turning into Sycamore Court and heading toward her new home at the head of the cul-de-sac. When they got married the previous year, they had lived in Sarah’s small attached house across from Sophie, but after a few months of needing more personal space, they decided to purchase a new house in their retirement community.

  As she approached the front door, she smiled to realize how warm and inviting their home looked. The Village landscaper had offered a tree in front of each house and azaleas along the foundation. Charles left the choice up to her, and she chose a maple tree and coral azaleas. There was a small front porch with a railing where she added a long flower box, filled now with chrysanthemums since her summer flowers had faded and the days had become cooler.

  “I’m home,” she called out as she stepped into the living room. She was both surprised and pleased to find the front door unlocked. Cunningham Village had a security fence and security guards who patrolled the streets and manned the entry kiosk. She always felt safe there, but her husband, Charles, was a retired police officer and couldn’t seem to set his suspicions aside. When they first met, he had insisted that she lock her door even when she walked her dog, Barney, on her own block. She hoped this unlocked door meant he was beginning to relax and let go of some of his law-enforcement habits.

  “I’m back here,” he hollered from the backyard. “How is Sophie doing?” Over the previous winter, after years of encouragement from her physicians and her friends, Sophie finally agreed to have her much-needed knee replacement. Despite her predictions of a catastrophic outcome, she sailed through the surgery and within a day was walking with the assistance of a walker and Higgy.

  Cornelius, now called Higgy by all of Sophie’s friends, moved into Sophie’s guest room in order to take care of her for several weeks following her surgery and only recently moved back to his own house on the other side of Middletown.

  “Health wise, she’s doing great, but I think she misses Higgy. She enjoyed having him around.” Barney got up and walked over to Sarah, pushing his head against her in greeting. He’s beginning to show his age, she thought but didn’t say. She had no idea how old he was when she got him from the pound, but the vet suggested he was perhaps seven or eight at the time. Charles was sitting on the ground next to Barney’s doghouse adjusting the siding strips he had added to match their own house.

  Barney returned to Charles’ side, watching but not looking pleased. He had made it very clear that he neither needed nor wanted a doghouse. From the day Sarah brought him home, he had slept in his own bed in Sarah’s room. He had reluctantly made one concession when she married Charles; he agreed to have his bed moved into the guest room. But as far as being outside in a green box, well, that was totally out of the question.

  “I thought he asked her to marry him. What happened with that?” Charles asked, still mulling over the issue of Sophie and Higgy.

  “She still hasn’t answered him.”

  “He’s waited over six months for an answer.” he responded skeptically.

  “You did, too,” Sarah reminded him with a flirtatious smile.

  “You’re right; I did. Well, I suggest she give
him an answer before this famous wordsmith gets away,” he said sarcastically. In fact, Cornelius Higginbottom was the worst writer of verse the world had ever seen. “What did you do with that terrible card he attached to Sophie’s housewarming gift, something about a new house and a frisky mouse …?”

  “I put it in our wedding album along with the newspaper clippings about your arrest last year,” she responded mischievously.

  “Good. They go well together. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Do you think she’ll ever marry him?”

  “I honestly can’t read her on this one. My guess is that she’ll eventually break down and at least give him an answer, but I wouldn’t venture to guess what that answer might be.”

  * * * * *

  “Sarah, this looks like such fun! I wish I could go with you.” Sarah had taken her quilting magazine into the quilt shop Running Stitches, where she first learned to quilt and now occasionally taught classes. Ruth, the owner, read through the entire article and looked at the brochures and registration forms Sarah had received from the agent. “I went to a retreat in El Paso with these folks a few years ago, and it was terrific.”

  “It looks like they use local artisans,” Sarah said, looking back through the brochure.

  “They do. In El Paso, they had Native Americans from local reservations do the demonstrations.”

  “Quilting demonstrations?” Sarah asked, sounding surprised.

  “No, this wasn’t a quilt retreat. It was a Native American crafts retreat. Artisans from several Pueblo reservations brought in beautiful beaded jewelry and demonstrated how they were made. Others brought examples of paintings, pottery, woven textiles, and baskets. They even had a woman who came and taught us how to make a coiled basket using willow twigs and yucca. In fact,” she added, pointing across the room to a small colorful basket on the shelf behind the cash register, “I made that basket while I was there.”

  “It’s beautiful, Ruth. I think I should learn more about the kinds of retreats they offer. I’d like to find something that Charles and I could attend together someday.”

  Sarah and Ruth continued to chat as Ruth straightened the bolts of fabric that had become jumbled during the sale the previous day. Sarah pulled together a group of fat quarters for a quick lap quilt she was planning as a gift for Sophie. Inspired by Ruth’s basket, she found herself choosing southwestern-inspired fabrics in bold shades of coral, turquoise, and yellow.

  “How’s your friend doing?” Ruth asked, knowing what Sarah had been through getting Sophie to follow through once she half-heartedly agreed to the knee replacement.

  “What a trooper!” Sarah responded. “After all that, she did beautifully and is walking now without her cane.”

  “That’s fantastic. Give her my best. Now, back to this retreat,” Ruth began. “Do you know what you’ll be working on?”

  “I don’t know anything about it yet, but it’s called a memory quilt, and we’ll be using some of our favorite photographs. That’s all I’ve been told so far.”

  “I’ll bet they’re going to print them out on fabric for you so you can use them in your quilt. That’ll be interesting. I’m eager to hear about it.”

  “I wonder if it might be something we can do here in the shop. Maybe a new class?” Sarah said, looking thoughtful.

  Ruth smiled, remembering how difficult it had been to get Sarah to teach her first class. But once she overcame her fears, she had become the shop’s most in-demand instructor. “Sounds like a good idea,” Ruth responded with her arm around Sarah’s shoulder.

  As Sarah drove past Sophie’s house on her way home, she saw Higgy’s new SUV pull up in front. Sarah smiled as she thought about him going out to buy a car specifically for transporting Sophie after her surgery. The flamboyant Sophie, of course, insisted on flaming metallic red.

  Higgy had whispered to Sarah in an apologetic tone that it was much too flashy for his taste. Smiling, he added, “but whatever my girl wants.”

  Summer was coming to an end, and Sarah’s retreat was only a few weeks away. When she received the final details for the retreat, she was pleased to see there was a picture of the memory quilt they would be making. Photographs on fabric had been arranged in rows with a traditional quilt block between each one.

  The instructions said to bring a disk with eighteen pictures of special people, special moments, anything she might want on her quilt. There were instructions for having photographs transferred to a disk and guidelines for choosing them. Sarah read the sheet several times and was beginning to feel overwhelmed.

  “Photos on a disk?” she wondered aloud, not realizing Charles had come into the room.

  “The pictures we’ve taken since we’ve been together are all on the computer and I can copy them to a disk.”

  “What if I want to use my older photos?”

  “That’s not a problem. I can have them converted at the photo shop. Just pick whichever ones you want.”

  “I can use my really old ones of the kids when they were little?”

  “Sure. I don’t know about the quality back then, but I might be able to improve them with my photo software after they’re converted. Just choose what you want and I’ll take it from there.”

  Turning to the last page of the instructions, Sarah was pleased to see four quilt blocks to choose from for the alternating block: a Friendship Star, an Ohio Star, a simple Nine-Patch, and a Churn Dash. The fabric requirements were listed for each design and she took a deep breath, knowing that would be the easy part. She was eager to begin choosing her fabrics, but she wanted to get the photograph part out of the way first.

  Charles brought all the albums into the kitchen and they sat down together to go through them. Choosing which pictures to use turned out to be a daunting task. She made tentative decisions, and then changed her mind several times. Finally, she realized she needed to know more about the project, so she did a computer search on memory quilts.

  She browsed through the images and found quilts commemorating weddings, graduations, vacations, reunions, childhood, confirmation, trips, and even children’s artwork. She also saw an overwhelming number of possible layouts and was glad they had mailed her the layout she would be using. That’s one decision I won’t have to make, she told herself.

  After going through all their pictures, Sarah realized she needed to choose one category for now. She decided to use their wedding pictures. She knew Charles would like that and the quilt would include all her friends and family since they all attended the wedding. There were pictures of her daughter, Martha; and her son, Jason, with his wife, Jennifer, and their baby, Alaina. There were pictures of Sophie; Ruth and her sister, Anna; Andy and his daughter Caitlyn; and two of Charles’ close friends from the police department. She decided to include a picture of Charles’ son, John, with his wife and son even though they hadn’t been at the wedding, but Sarah knew Charles would like having their picture on the quilt.

  She had trouble picking one of herself since she never liked her own pictures. She decided to include the one that Charles liked best. She chose a few pictures from their honeymoon in Paris as well. She counted the pictures and found that she could easily pull together eighteen which would include all the family and their friends with a few extra of baby Alaina. After all those were chosen, Sarah went back through the pictures and chose one of her and Charles to place in the center of the quilt.

  As her departure date grew close, Sarah began to feel a combination of excitement and apprehension. It had been several years since she traveled without Charles, but she had chosen to do this alone, despite the fact that husbands were welcome at the retreat center. She wanted to immerse herself in the experience without her natural tendency to worry about whether she should be spending more time with him. But she knew she would miss him. Married less than two years, they had developed a deep and loving bond.

  Knowing it was too early to pack, Sarah was pulling together some of the things she thought she might need in the mountains an
d was making a list of what she needed to buy. As she was reaching for her fleece jacket on the top shelf of her closet while holding a pencil between her teeth, she heard the phone rang. “Charles? Can you get it?” she called out, garbling her words.

  “Got it,” he called from the living room. Walking into the bedroom with the phone, he said, “It’s Sophie and she sounds very excited. She won’t tell me what’s going on. Here,” he added handing the phone to his wife and removing the pencil from her mouth.

  “Sophie! What’s going on?” She hit the speaker button so that Charles could hear.

  “Higgy wants to meet my son right away. We’d been talking about going next year, but all of a sudden he’s in a hurry. Anyway, I called Tim and he agreed that we should fly to Alaska right away since it’s a good time for him to take a few days off.”

  “That’s terrific, Sophie. So you’re going to do it?”

  “Higgy already made the reservations,” she squealed. “We’re going in two weeks!”

  “Two weeks. That’s about when I’m leaving for my retreat. Can you get ready to leave that fast?”

  “If you help me I can. Will you?”

  “Of course, I will. What sort of help do you need?”

  “I need help figuring out what to take. It’ll be mid-September and probably cold in Alaska already, don’t you think?”

  “What does Timmy say?”

  “I forgot to ask. Will you go on your computer and see what it’ll be like up there in two weeks.”

  “I’ll do it,” Charles spoke up. “How long do you expect to be there?”

  “No more than a couple of weeks, I would think. I forgot to ask Higgy. I’m so excited I can’t think.”

  “Is Tim still in Valdez?” Charles asked, wondering what part of Alaska to look into. Tim has been working on the Alaska pipeline for the last forty years and is about ready to retire.

  “Yes, he’s right on Prince William Sound. It even sounds cold.”

  “That would be my guess, but I’ll get the details for you.”