Chapter One
“E lizabeth Ruth Peterson, you are even more persnickety than my mother was growing up during the time of the World’s Fair,” said Great-grandma Mullane, her stern features buried beneath the wrinkles of age and wisdom. “If you keep turning your nose up at young suitors, you’ll be too old to have children when you finally do get married. Your great-great-grandmother didn’t have me until she was thirty-eight years old, and she’s lucky she didn’t die giving birth.”
Lizzie sighed. She felt trapped in the small confines of her grandmother’s dining room. Fumbling with the delicate Delaware china cup, a tiny crack visible along one portion of blue roses and scrolls, she took the last sip of her hot green tea. “I know, Grandma Mullane.”
“You know that Grandma Mullane and I are just worried about you, sweetie. It’s not good for anyone to be alone.” Grandma Bader patted Lizzie on the shoulder.
Great-Grandma Mullane was in her early nineties, and Grandma Bader, who was only nineteen years younger, were both widowed and lived together.
Having Grandmother Bader and Great-grandmother Mullane both living in the same house made it challenging to visit either of them. One-on-one, Lizzie felt outnumbered, but double-teamed… she felt like she was under a microscope. Why had she let her mother talk her into staying with both her widowed grandmothers to keep an eye on them while she and her father were out of town? After spending a day and a half with them, she remembered why she’d left Warrensburg and moved to St. Louis—to avoid scrutiny from her family.
Christmas wasn’t far away. She had to finish her shopping and wrapping presents. Right now, the thought of fighting crowds looked appealing as opposed to having the marriage discussion with her grandmothers.
“I’m only twenty-eight. I’ve still got plenty of time to find a husband.” It wasn’t like she wasn’t looking. Most single men her age had already fathered children or gotten divorced, some of whom wanted nothing to do with getting married again because of their previous experience.
“Go get my mother’s quilt from the cedar chest at the end of my bed,” Grandma Mullane told her daughter. “I had planned to wait to give it to her until Christmas, but I think it’s high time Lizzie heard the story.”
Lizzie took a deep breath and forced herself to smile politely. She cleared their empty tea cups from the table and took a moment of solace as she quickly washed the few dishes and put them in the strainer on the kitchen counter.
Each step felt heavier as she made her way back to the dining room. Grandma Mullane had already spread the quilt out on the table. Wonderful. Story time. Lizzie wasn’t a child anymore; she didn’t need to hear stories. Not that some of her grandmothers’ stories weren’t entertaining. However, if they were on the topic of marriage, those stories felt more like a lecture.
She might as well get this over with. Her grandmothers would both be going to bed in a couple hours, then she could enjoy some quiet time by herself.
“So, what’s the story behind the quilt?” Lizzie took her seat and watched as Grandma Mullane’s frail fingers traced pieces of fabric on the quilt.
“It’s a story I’ve only heard once before,” said Grandma Bader. “But I’m going to let her tell you it in peace while I go take a long hot bath before bed.”
Lucky her, she was able to escape and enjoy some quiet time by herself. Lizzie longed to do the same. Instead, she leaned her arms on the table and waited patiently for Grandma Mullane to begin her story.
“My father always said my mother spent so much time living in the past and what should have been that she nearly missed out on one of the biggest blessings in her life—me.” Grandma Mullane expelled a deep breath. “My mother was a good woman, but she always had a far-a-way look in her eyes. This quilt,” Grandma said, patting it, “was her memento of her youth. I’m not sure it was a good thing she kept it or not, because she could never fully move on.”
“Move on from what?” Lizzie wasn’t sure how any of this related to her, but the story intrigued her, and she honestly wanted to find out more.
“From the demons that haunted her.” Grandma Mullane’s faint smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You see, this quilt was the story of the time she spent at the World’s Fair in 1904, and of the love she never spoke about until she gave me this quilt the month before she died.”
“So, she was in love with someone else?” Lizzie’s heart ached for Elizabeth. “Why didn’t they get married?”
“Her father didn’t approve of him. You see, her father was a man of means, and he expected her to marry someone who could adequately provide for her.” Grandma Mullane shrugged, her hand gently brushing across the fabric. “He didn’t think this gentleman, a common laborer, would be a good match.”
Lizzie’s great-great-great-grandfather may have been looking out for his daughter, but he should have considered her feelings. “Why didn’t they just elope?”
Grandma Mullane smiled. “They were going to.” Her expression turned somber. “But something happened.”
Lizzie waited a couple moments in anticipation, expecting her grandmother to continue. When she could take the silence no more, she blurted, “So what happened?
“At least you are humoring an old lady and her stories.” Her grandmother laughed. “Unfortunately, their love story didn’t have a happy ending. When I asked my mother why she didn’t marry him instead of my father, she broke down in tears.” Grandma shrugged her shoulders. “So, I never really got to find out what kept them from getting married. I do know this piece of fabric here…” She pointed to a piece of dark blue fabric in the middle of the flower petals. That was the only piece of fabric that was the same on all three of the flower patterns of the quilt. “That dark blue came from something he wore. My mother placed it there because she said he was at the center of everything in her life.”
“Uh.” Lizzie sighed. What happened to keep them apart? “Do you know what his name was?”
Grandma Mullane gazed at the quilt with eyes that seemed to look deep into the past. “His name doesn’t matter.” Grandmother glanced at Lizzie. “The point is, Lizzie, you can’t let the past hold you hostage. You need to move on and find someone, so you don’t make the same mistakes. That boy you were crazy about in college is water under the bridge. Don’t let him keep you from finding someone who will truly make you happy.” Grandma patted her arm. “My mother spent a long time alone. It took her nearly seventeen years before she married my father. He was a widower with two young sons.”
Lizzie’s throat tightened. Had she let her bad experience with Geoff in college make her critical toward men? She nodded in agreement, unable to produce audible words.
Lizzie sat numbly, listening to her grandmother as she reminisced and shared the stories concerning the Crazy Quilt and events at the 1904 World’s Fair. She forced herself to ask questions so that she wouldn’t appear to be totally ignoring her grandmother. She really did want to listen intently to the tale, but inner turmoil raged a war with her consciousness.
After Grandma Mullane finished her story, Lizzie folded the quilt. “I’ll put it away for you.”
Grandma clasped Lizzie’s hand. Soft, frail fingers gripped her gently. “No, dear.” Grandma patted Lizzie’s hand before placing her own hand back in her lap. “I want you to keep it—it’s yours now.”
“Oh, Grandma.” Lizzie clutched the quilt to her chest. “Are you sure?”
Grandma Mullane nodded. “It’s time it was passed down.”
“Thank you.”
Lizzie knew she needed to move on and let go of the pain she still harbored from Geoff’s betrayal. She felt a lot like her great-great-grandmother, Elizabeth. She didn’t want to settle for anything less than true love.
When Lizzie laid down in her grandmother’s spare bedroom, her mind whirled with thoughts of the past, back to the time of her great-great-grandmother in 1904. Lizzie’s own heartache after Geoff’s betrayal was so heart-wrenching, she could sympathize with Elizabeth’s broken heart, and how she’d left behind a quilt that not only told her story but held many secrets. Lizzie wrapped herself in the Crazy Quilt and fell asleep.