Tracie Peterson by A Slender Thread Page B

day. Sure enough, Mattie was hunched over her sewing machine, trying to thread it.
    “I’m in here, Ash,” she replied, appearing to finally accomplish her goal. “Just thought with the rain and all I’d get a little sewing done. Come on in.” She patted a cushioned chair nearby. “Come talk with me.”
    For as long as Ashley could remember, Grammy had kept a chair beside the sewing machine. She had told the girls over and over that just because she was sewing did not mean she wasn’t available for them. In fact, Grammy had so often been sewing clothes for one girl or the other that the talking sessions usually turned into fitting sessions as well.
    “What are you working on?” Ashley asked, admiring the Piece Work quilt before joining her grandmother. The amount of work Grammy had put into the quilt was incredible. Lovingly, Ashley touched her own square, tracing the embroidered letter A .
    “I’m just putting together some curtains for the back door,” Grammy replied.
    “This quilt is absolutely incredible, Grammy. I can’t imagine the time you put into it. The work is so intricate—especially the hand quilting.”
    Grammy stopped her work and looked up, just as Ashley turned. She smiled appreciatively. “I’m glad you like it. I figure it’s something that will be in the family for a long time to come.”
    Ashley nodded. “I know I’d be proud to have it in my own. I just can’t imagine using it. I suppose for special occasions it would be all right. I know the other quilts you’ve made for me have been built to last.”
    Mattie chuckled softly. “What good is something that’s merely ornamental? Pretty things are seldom appreciated as much as useful ones.”
    “I suppose that’s true. Still, things like this are important. There will never be another Piece Work quilt made by Mattie Mitchell with exactly this material and with these precise stitches.”
    “That’s true,” Mattie replied. “But the same is true of each of my pieces. Each one is a part of my heart—a labor of love, if you will.” She paused to gaze into Ashley’s eyes. “I have a feeling you didn’t come in here to talk about sewing and quilts, though. Why don’t you come here and tell me what this is about?”
    Ashley nodded and glanced to the window. Outside the heavy gray skies poured rain, making what she’d come to say a little harder. “I have to leave on Saturday morning,” she finally said, taking the seat beside Grammy.
    “Yes, I know. You mentioned that when you first came. I know you’re anxious to be with your family again,” Mattie said, her sharp eyes focusing on Ashley’s face. “But something is troubling you. What is it?”
    Ashley smiled, noting her grandmother’s intuitive nature. “I was kind of hoping maybe you would come home with me. I mean, I hate to think about you here by yourself. Especially with this sadness over Rachelle.”
    Grammy leaned over and patted Ashley’s hand. “You needn’t worry about me falling apart, if that’s it. I’ve dealt with this kind of loss before. I can deal with it again. I suppose my biggest sorrow is in not knowing if Rachelle made peace with God. I’d like to believe she did—it’s not like she didn’t know the way.”
    “But you have to want to make peace,” Ashley replied. “Some folks don’t think they need God. They feel He’s just out there somewheremaking a disinterested observation of all creation.”
    “Then they’re mistaken,” Mattie replied. “We know the difference and, even though she ignored it, so did Rachelle.”
    “Well, for your sake, Grammy, I hope she found her way back to God and the overdose was just a mistake.”
    “I hope so too,” Mattie replied. “Her life was lived in strife—never a moment of rest or peace.”
    “Well, I think it might do you good to get away for a while. You could come stay with us in Denver and just relax. We could even go up to the cabin at Estes once it warms up.”
    “I’d almost