Lori Wilde - The True Love Quilting Club

Lori Wilde

The True Love Quilting Club

This book is dedicated to my cousin, Tony Award-winning actress Judith Ivey. I might not have known you wel growing up, but youl never know how much your talent, courage, and dedication to your craft inspired the young writer in me. I humbly say thank you for showing me how to carve my own path in a competitive business.

Contents

Prologue

It was turning out to be the second worst day

Chapter One

Inside a cramped, dusty pawnshop on the Lower West Side

Chapter Two

The Rottweiler was a licker.

Chapter Three

The only thing that kept Emma from completely cracking up

Chapter Four

Sam stood on the porch looking just as Emma imagined

Chapter Five

The Merry Cherub lived up to its name.

Chapter Six

Later that same evening, Sam was watering Valeries vegetable garden

Chapter Seven

Dr. Cheek, theres a Miss Emma Parks here to see you.

Chapter Eight

That evening, after ful y embarrassing herself in the theater by

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Emma dreaded the sheepdog herding trials.

Chapter Ten

Sam tightened his arms around Emma, turning what shed meant

Chapter Eleven

Sam was napping on the couch when the doorbel rang

Chapter Twelve

The conversation on the drive back to Sams house rested

Chapter Thirteen

The next two weeks passed uneventful y. The air grew cooler

Chapter Fourteen

By Saturday night, Emma was a nervous wreck. She couldnt

Chapter Fifteen

The expression in Emmas eyes had Sams gut in knots.

Chapter Sixteen

He led her upstairs and she fol owed. Once in his

Chapter Seventeen

What in the hel was he going to do?

Chapter Eighteen

When Emma told Sam about Malcolm Talmadge, he wrapped her in

Chapter Nineteen

Knowing she was going onstage with an untested leading man

Chapter Twenty

She finished filming her role in Malcolms film three days

Epilogue

They got married in the theater on Valentines Day. The

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other Books by Lori Wilde

Copyright

About the Publisher

P ROLOGUE

Twilight, Texas, 1994

A quilt is a quilt is a quilt.

Trixie Lynn Parks, fourteen-year-old ragamuffin

It was turning out to be the second worst day of Trixie Lynn Parkss fourteen-year-old life.

Her fathers hateful words pounded through her head like a migraine. The sound of her running feet slapping against the pavement echoed in her ears, compounded the pain.

For the most part, the streets of Twilight, Texas, stretched empty. Families were inside taking their evening meal. The stores on the town square had already closed. A few cars sat parked outside the diner; the smel of cooking oil slathered the air. A lone merchant swept the sidewalk in front of his mercantile. He raised a hand in greeting, but Trixie Lynn lowered her head and just kept running.

Shed come home from school to find her father packing up their things just as he had so many times before. Theyd never stayed in one town longer than a year. It was May and school was almost out. Two more days left. Everyone was looking forward to the last-day-of-school party on Friday and her father was packing.

The sight of him, with a rol of duct tape in his hand and cardboard boxes strewn around the living room, stoked something fierce inside heranger, disappointment, hurt, betrayal. Hed promised her this time hed stick with a job. The nuke plant in Glen Rose paid wel . She loved Twilight, and for once, she was doing wel in school. Why was he uprooting her again? She saw destruction in that flash of silver tape, felt it tear through her insides as effectively as a jagged-toothed saw.

Hed glanced up at her, a hard, determined expression sitting on his mouth and his graying dark hair sticking out in tufts from the side of his head. For as far back as she could remember, shed never felt close to him. Not the way a girl should feel close to her father. He kept her at a distance with his tense, slope-shouldered posture and his faded, faraway brown eyes. There had always been a missing synapse, a gap between them, and no matter how hard Trixie tried, she had never been able to close it. When her mother ran off things only got worse. The mosaic of her fractured childhood pelted her.

Dad, push me on the swings.

Youre a big girl, Trixie Lynn, push yourself.

Can you help me with my homework, Dad?

Not now, I gotta mow the lawn.

The boys at school are making fun of me cause I dont wear a bra. I need a bra.

Heres twenty dol ars, go buy one.

I love you, Daddy.

Stop talking with your mouth ful .

She thought of how hed failed to celebrate her birthdays ninety percent of the time. How he gave her the brush-off any time shed tried to hug him. Shed thought it was because he blamed her for her mother leaving. If shed been a good girl, if shed just picked up her toys off the floor and eaten her vegetables and brushed her teeth like she was told, then her mother wouldnt have left and her father wouldnt hold her responsible.

Al those years of feeling ignored and disregarded by her father converged into one big defiant lump in the pit of her stomach. Why not take a stand? He already hated her. What else did she have to lose?

Im not going, shed said flatly before he ever said a word, and slung her schoolbooks onto the sofa.

Her father had said nothing, just kept throwing things into the cardboard boxa lamp made from a cowboy boot, a red lap blanket, a fistful of cassette tapes by George Jones, Marty Robbins, and Merle Haggard. Youre fourteen, you have no say in the matter.

She sank her hands on her hips. You cant make me.

Hed rocked back on his heels, looked at her with the empty expression he so often threw her way. I can and I wil , he intoned.

Il run away, she threatened.

He blew out his breath. Dont push me, Trixie Lynn.

She stalked across the room and pushed against his shoulder. There, Im pushing you. What are you going to do about it?

He drew back a hand and she thought he was going to hit her. And for a bright second she felt a strange spark of joy. Shed caused a reaction in him. Even if he hit her, it meant he felt something.

That he wasnt total y apathetic.

Go to your room and start packing.

No. Im going to go find my mother and live with her.

He laughed, harsh and angry. Good luck with that.

Il do it. Just watch me.

Slowly, hed gotten to his feet, but he hadnt looked at her. He turned his head, jammed his hands in his pockets. Go find your worthless mother. See if I care. Ive tried to do right by you, Trixie Lynn.

Take care of you after your mother left us. Ive fed you and put a roof over your head. I bought you those purple sneakers you have on that cost sixty dol ars, but none of it is good enough. Youre always wanting more, expecting more.

I dont care about al that stuff, she yel ed. Al Ive ever wanted was for you to love me. Why cant you love me?

He spun around to face her, a balding, bland-faced dul ard of a man who drank too much beer on the weekends and spent the majority of his spare time watching sports on television. You want to know why?

Mutely, she nodded. At last, to have the question answered. It wasnt her imagination. He didnt love her. He never had. Misery constricted her throat.

You sure you real y want to know why?

I do.

Because, he said flatly, youre not my daughter.