Elm Creek Quilts [09] Circle of Quilters Read Online Free PDF Page A

in the
Lowell Offering
, a literary journal for the mill workers. In 1849, a mill girl had contributed a story about a young woman torn between the independence she enjoyed as a mill worker and her love for a handsome suitor. The professor had enclosed a copy.
    The story told of a young woman, probably a thinly disguised version of the author, who lamented, “Though earning her own living was reckoned as a suitable accomplishment for a young maid, few would consider it appropriate for a wife to spend her hours thus employed. Indeed, Hannah’s own dear William had often declared that no bride of his should weave or spin in the mills when she could be better occupied cooking his breakfast. And yet Hannah loved him, and would cleave to his side, though he would summonher from the friends and life that had become so dear and bid her go with him to distant lands far from home and family.”
    The author was Harriet Findley.
    At last, Maggie filled in the missing pieces of Harriet’s story. She had worked as a mill girl until marrying Franklin. When her husband decided to move west, Harriet, the obedient wife, had agreed, though her heart broke to part from her dear friends, many of whom still worked at the mills. Knowing she would no longer be able to trade patterns with her acquaintances, she stitched her masterwork as a record of all the blocks they knew, so that no matter how far west she traveled, she would have a wonderful variety of patterns to choose from when making quilts for her growing family. Scraps she had saved from her own days in the mill intermingled with pieces shared by beloved friends and relatives. She could not have sewn on the seat of a jolting wagon as they crossed the country on the Oregon Trail, so she had likely pieced the blocks in Lowell and quilted the top in Salem. Into the quilt she had stitched her grief, her hopes, her faithfulness, and her memories.
    That was the story Maggie told in her classes and lectures, admitting that it was only one possible version of Harriet’s life. Her students did not seem to mind the ambiguity, but they often spoke of finding Harriet’s home in Lowell and of seeking out the indisputable truth. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, they sighed, if they could find an old, sepia-toned photograph of Harriet? A diary in which she had confided her reasons for making the quilt? Letters she had written home to Lowell from the Oregon Trail?
    Maggie, too, longed to know the truth, but she was grateful for every cherished scrap of information she had collected over the years and would not demand more.
    When Maggie had saved enough money, she bought a new car, choosing a sensible model with a large trunk and excellent gas mileage because of her expanding schedule of speaking engagements. Her first road trip took her north to Salem, Oregon, toHarriet’s final resting place. She planted flowers by the headstone, and on the soft green grass nearby, she spread out Harriet’s quilt and the four duplicates she had made. She spoke at a nearby quilt guild that evening, spent the night in a bed-and-breakfast run by the guild treasurer, and drove home in the morning after meeting Jason Birch for breakfast. She wished she could have stayed longer, but Ocean View Hills had cut her vacation from two weeks a year to three days, a reduction that would have been considered unfair and damaging to employee morale when she had first begun working there.
    Maggie taught nearly every evening at the quilt shop and twice on Saturdays. She was more grateful than ever for the extra income after a second round of budget cuts trimmed the staff at Ocean View Hills by another four employees and a promised cost of living increase fell through. One evening, Maggie tentatively approached Lois about increasing the fee for her classes to cover printing expenses. “We could do that,” said Lois, “but surely you don’t plan to give away your patterns forever.”
    The day her pattern book,
My Journey with Harriet: