Fiction Friday

It is very windy today and the hydro has already flickered once so, although I was going to leave it until later, here is todays story.  You will notice that it is a continuation from last week although it can still be read as a stand alone.


When Adele opened the parcel that had been sent from her mother's solicitor, she laughed  in delight. The multi-coloured fabrics tumbling over the kitchen table each held a special memory. A love of quilting had been the one thing she alone shared with her mother and the hours the two spent pouring over designs, choosing fabric, cutting and sewing were precious.  It might have been petty but she knew that it was something she could do that her sister couldn't.  Morgan excelled at everything.  She was prettier, smarter and everyone loved her.  Adele wasn't any of those things.  When people described her, they said she was 'pleasant' looking.  She never failed a class but she had to work hard to maintain a passing mark.  Morgan, of course, never studied.  She was able to quickly and easily comprehend a task and then remember it.  If well meaning family members and friends hadn't always compared the two sisters, they would probably have continued the loving and sharing relationship they enjoyed when they were little.  But, even the most forgiving and easy going person can get tired of hearing the virtues of another.
Adele had to admit, however, that it was her hours of study which had led to quilting.  She had been sitting at kitchen table working out a math problem when her mother had come in and asked her help. She wanted to know how much fabric she would need to make twelve blocks each containing four same sized squares.  Adele worked it out and then the conversation turned to what her mother was making and how it was done.  This led to further discussion which, in term developed into a passion.  It was only many years later that Adele wondered why her mother needed help with that simple problem when she had been quilting for many years.  By then it didn't matter whether it had been an excuse to get her involved or whether her mother had just had one of those foggy brain moments.
Mother and daughter worked on many quilts together and separately since that day. Adele had even won ribbons at the local fair.  She went on retreats and shop hops with her mother never minding that she was usually the youngest in the group. The memory of those times continued to help her get through the days since her mother's sudden death.
She picked up a square of dark red fabric and brushed it gently.  It was a civil war reproduction fabric; one of her favourites.  She had used it in a quilt for her nephew, Morgan's son, when he got married.  It was then she saw her mother's letter.
"My Dear Adele, thank you for all the wonderful hours sharing my love of quilting.  I know you will remember these fabrics.  These, as well as all my other quilting supplies are yours to do with as you wish.  However, I would like you to use this material for a special project.  I have sent Morgan some blocks but, of course, as you know, she won't know what to do with them.  This is just a suggestion but it would make me happy to know you will help her.  If you do, I would like the fabric in this package to be added to the quilt.  I have given her enough blocks that you could share and make something for each of you.  This, too, is just as suggestion".
Adele laughed again.  This time her mother's loving deviousness was obvious but, as before, Adele didn't mind. She and Morgan were both adults and it was high time they both started acting like it.  When the phone rang, she knew who it was and, smiling, picked it up.