Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (40 page)

“That’s because they can read and do sums,” Jane said and nodded Ellen’s way. “Which is thanks to you.”

Ellen deflected the compliment to “Ian and Mamie’s shared vision.”

Just then, Mamie stepped out from behind the dressing screen. Ellen clasped her hands in front of her. “Exquisite.”

Mamie minced her way to the full-length mirror. Paused. Swallowed.

“Well?” Minnie leaned over and met her gaze in the mirror.

“It isn’t what I expected when you showed me that fashion plate.” She ran her hand along the nipped-in waistline and down to the edge of the fabric that fanned out over her hips, ending in a V at both center front and back.

Minnie adjusted the three-way mirror so Mamie could see the back of the skirt, a cascade of silk poufs ending in a two-foot train bordered with eight-inch-long box pleats.

Mamie returned to studying the front, from the square neckline accented with a wide collar of exquisite lace to the panel of brocade that ended with a band of box pleats at the hem.

“I know the fashion plate didn’t show box pleats in front, but it echoes the train.” Minnie was beginning to sound concerned. And still, Mamie continued staring at her reflection.

Minnie moved to slip one of the sleeves on and pinned it in place. “The V over the back of your hand echoes the line of the bodice.” She pinned the other sleeve on, then stood back and glanced at Jane. “I think it’s a nice fit.”

Jane had never seen Mamie at a loss for words.

Finally, Minnie said, “We can change it. We can take it apart and start over if you don’t like it. I remember what you said about not wanting claret. Martin won’t care if—“

“I love it.” Mamie turned to face her sister.

“You do? Really? Because you don’t have to—“

Mamie began to cry. “I—I never thought I’d feel this way. I don’t know what to say.”

Ellen suggested she and Jane make tea and give the two sisters some privacy.

“No,” Mamie protested, waving a hand in the air as she accepted a handkerchief from her sister. “I mean, tea would be lovely, but you don’t have to. We don’t need privacy.” She glanced at herself in the mirror as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Mamie Dawson,” Minnie scolded. “If you stain that silk with tears, I won’t be able to sell the dress.” She glanced at Jane. “Make tea. I’ll get my sister settled down and out of that contraption, and we’ll make a new plan.”

Jane had headed for the door and the back room and the small stove tucked into a corner when Mamie said, “Do I have to take it off?”

Minnie sighed. “You don’t have to do anything, Mamie, except tell me what in tarnation is going on!”

Mamie turned to look at herself in the mirror again. She glanced over her shoulder to view the back of the ensemble. Then she turned to look at her sister. “I never expected to feel… You’ve made me feel… beautiful.” She dabbed at fresh tears with the handkerchief. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Ellen leaned over and murmured to Jane, “Mark this day. Minnie Dawson has been rendered speechless.”

Jane chuckled.

But Minnie’s speechless state didn’t last long. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said. “It’s my job to make women look beautiful. Remember?” She cleared her throat. Glanced at Jane and then back at her sister. “So, have you decided? Wedding veil or hat?”

“Hat,” Mamie said without hesitation.

“Excellent.” Minnie reached for the magazine lying on a nearby chair, opened it, and pointed. “I was thinking something like this.”

“It’s lovely. But no dead bird.”

“It’s the latest thing.”

“Not for me.”

“Feathers?”

“Feathers are fine.”

“You do know that feathers come from dead birds.”

“I try not to think about that,” Mamie sniffed. “And at least it isn’t quite so obvious.”

Minnie laughed even as she shook her head. “All right, then. No birds, but feathers. Let’s get you out of that so Jane and I can finish it. And are you certain you don’t want to pick out the buttons?”

“Well…” Mamie glanced one last time in the mirror. “Maybe I would like to see what you have in mind.” She slipped behind the screen.

“We have definitely earned some celebratory tea.” Minnie turned to Jane and Ellen. “In fact, why don’t you two ladies slip out to Dinah’s and bring back a pie? We’ll have teatime and then move on to men’s dressing gowns.” She winked at Ellen.

The minute they’d retreated to the workroom, Jane said, “I’ll be forever grateful if you’ll fetch the pie on your own.”

Ellen nodded. “Happy to. Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Jane grabbed the teakettle and retreated to the water cooler in the corner. She concentrated on watching the water trickle into the kettle.

“I’ll be right back,” Ellen said and slipped out the back door. She returned and served up pie without comment. It wasn’t long before the four women had drawn the overstuffed chairs Minnie had placed around the shop into a circle and were chatting, pie plates balanced on their knees, teacups atop a small table that usually displayed fashion magazines. Minnie had just pulled a second bolt of soft wool challis out and broached the topic of a dressing gown for Martin Underhill when someone knocked at the front door. “It amazes me,” she groused, “that people cannot seem to believe a sign that clearly says c–l–o–s–e–d.” She glared at the door.

“It can’t hurt to see who it is,” Ellen said. “He sounds… insistent. I mean. It sounds firm. Like a man knocks.”

Minnie spoke to Jane. “Would you mind? We’ll be quiet so they think you’re here alone. Just make whoever it is go away.”

Jane paused with her hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath. I’m sorry, but the sign tells it all. Miss Dawson is unavailable until first thing in the morning, and I’m not authorized to open up without her being on the premises. That sounded professional, didn’t it?

All thought of professionalism fell away, though, when Jane opened the door and saw the man standing on the other side, hat in hand, gray-green eyes troubled.

“It was lunch,” Max said. “That was all. Claudine wanted to apologize for her behavior.”

“Claudine,” Jane said.

“She’s barely older than Rose, Jane. And it seemed a way to… state the obvious.”

“The obvious.”

He shook his head. “You don’t make it easy on a man. Do you know that?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m trying to wait. To give you time. To let you… just… I don’t know. Enjoy your freedom?” He shook his head again. “But I—blast it, Jane, I—“

“You…?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. He glanced off up the street. “I’m trying to wait,” he said again.

“Waiting is highly overrated, Dr. Zimmer,” a voice trilled from behind them.

Minnie Dawson. I will never forgive you, Jane thought.

Max flushed. “Who else is in there?”

“Mamie,” a voice called.

“And Ellen McKenna, Dr. Zimmer. We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“But it’s been fun,” Minnie’s laughter filled the room as she walked to Jane’s side and peered through the door. “We’re going to retreat now. Out the back door. For home.” She nudged Jane. “I’ll come in early and help you clean up tomorrow morning.” She looked pointedly at Max. “No eloping.”

And just like that the other three women were gone, and there they stood, alone in the dress shop, with such a cloud of unsaid words between them Jane wondered if they’d ever manage to find a way through them to the only three that mattered.

The back door closed, and Max cleared his throat. “What did I interrupt?”

“Mamie’s dress fitting.”

“It went well?”

“She cried. Said she never expected to feel beautiful.”

Max nodded. Swallowed.

“Did Ellen McKenna say something to you at Dinah’s?”

“Ellen was at Dinah’s?”

“She fetched the pie we were eating.”

“I didn’t see her. I saw you. And the look on your face. And I wanted to run after you, but I was afraid—” He broke off. Tossed his hat toward a chair. It missed and rolled across the floor. “I was afraid this would happen. That I’d stand here like a tongue-tied dolt.” He took a deep breath. “I have loved you since that night at the Bar-T when we danced together. I shouldn’t have loved you then, but I did. And I still do. More than ever. And I know you need time to wait, and I’m trying, Jane. Believe me, I’m trying. But—“

“Stop.”

“Stop?”

Jane nodded. “Stop waiting. I hear it’s highly overrated.” She stepped into his arms, closed her eyes, reveled in the warmth of him.

And finally… they kissed.

And the sweetest of all grace notes played love.

B
ook ideas can spring up in unlikely places.
The Key on the Quilt
is a combination of an account I read many years ago that lauded the bravery of the warden’s wife during an early escape attempt at the Nebraska State Penitentiary, and a lecture I attended in Phoenix, Arizona. Undoubtedly, part of the reason the history of corrections intrigued me is that both of my husbands (Bob, who graduated to heaven in 2001, and Dan, God’s blessing for this season of my life) have worked in corrections.

I was researching another story in a county archive when I came across the mug shot of a woman who served time in Nebraska in the late 1800s, and eventually, the “what ifs” of an imaginary woman’s story combined with the historical account and the Arizona lecture. Mamie Dawson, Ellen McKenna, and Jane Prescott came to be, and together we learned that what Mamie said is true: prison walls can keep a person in… but they cannot keep God out.

Researching this book involved dozens of hours at the Nebraska State Archives, a visit to the Iowa State Penitentiary, and phone calls and searches aided by Mr. Winn Barber, public information officer at the Nebraska State Penitentiary, and Mr. Doug Hanson of the DCS Engineering Division, who answered many questions about “the early days” in Nebraska corrections. When answers couldn’t be found in the historical record, I did my best to create scenarios that were reasonable given the available documentation.
Any errors in the historical foundation to this story are mine alone.

Readers of historical fiction seem to enjoy knowing “what’s real” and what isn’t. In the real world, Ellen and Ian McKenna would have inhabited an apartment in the castle-like main building. The separate warden’s residence didn’t come into being in Nebraska until the 1920s. I was never able to locate the original architect’s plans for the building constructed in 1876, and so the actual configuration of the third floor, which housed the female department, is my design based on Sanborn fire maps of the penitentiary from 1884, 1886, and 1891. Lastly, I do not know the exact year when gas lighting and a telephone line arrived at the penitentiary, which was about three miles south of the city limits when constructed in 1876.

I owe thanks to many. Thank you, Rebecca Germany, for believing in quilt stories. Thank you, Becky Durost Fish, for your editing expertise. Thank you, Kansas Eight, for helping me brainstorm. Thank you, Nancy Moser, for going above and beyond as a critiquer. And always… Daniel. Thank you for all the sacrifices you willingly make in the real world that enable me to create imaginary ones.

Stephanie Grace Whitson

August 28, 2011

Stephanie Grace Whitson, bestselling author and two-time Christy finalist, pursues a full-time writing and speaking career from her home studio in southeast Nebraska. Her husband and blended family, her church, quilting, and Kitty—her motorcycle—all rank high on her list of “favorite things.”

1. For the person who chose this book for book club discussion: What made you want to read it? What made you suggest it to the group for discussion? Did it live up to your expectations? Why or why not? Why do you suppose works of historical fiction are so popular with readers? What appeals to you the most about these types of books?
   

2. The story introduces three very different women, Jane Prescott, Ellen McKenna, and Mamie Dawson. Which woman did you identify with? Why? What would you say is each woman’s greatest strength? Her greatest weakness? Her greatest challenge?
   

3. Share a favorite passage with the group. Why did it resonate with you?
   

4. Talk about the time period in which the story is set. Is this a time period that you knew a lot about before you read this book? If so, did you learn anything new? If not, did you come away with a greater understanding of what this particular time and place in history was actually like? How well do you think the author conveyed the era?
   

5. What do you think each of the three women fears the most? How would you encourage them?
   

6. Mamie says that prison walls can’t keep God out. What events prove or disprove her belief? What kinds of barriers do people erect today to keep God out? Share a time when you have seen evidence of God’s moving in spite of difficult circumstances.
   

7. If you were casting the film version of
   The Key on the Quilt,
   who would you have play the various roles? Where would you BEGIN the film? Describe the setting. Where would you END the movie?
   

8. Among the minor characters, who is your favorite? Why?
   

9. Choose one of the couples (Ian and Ellen, Martin and Mamie, or Max and Jane) and share what you think their life will look like in 1885 (five years after the conclusion of the book).
   

10. What do you think will be your lasting impression of the book? What spiritual lesson will stay with you?