Grimm’s Quilting Needle

by Mary Vee

Once upon a time there was a Ladies Quilting Club…

The 14^th street ladies quilting club met every Tuesday, rain or shine, snow or warmth. They brought their needles, yarn, thread, and fabrics spanning a spectrum of colors. Gladys Grimm, who was never grim, hosted the event at her home. She served her homemade sweet tea and lemonade. Gertrude brought homemade pastries and Gwen, Gabby, Grace, Georgia, and Genny brought plenty of conversation to fill the evening. Oh, the stories that stayed in the walls of Gladys’ home while their beautifully, meticulously crafted projects walked out the door destined for the homeless.

One day, a new woman, slim with impeccably blonde hair joined their group. Georgia had invited her friend, Ari, without asking the others, but she was sure her friends wouldn’t mind.

Ari laid out squares of fabric clearly intended as the new row for her quilting project while regaling stories that entertained the ladies for more than fifteen minutes, which was quite out of the ordinary because Gladys had always opened their evening with her news.

As it happened, the other ladies took liberties to share their stories, leaving aside propriety which gave the hostess the right to contribute, comment, or at least criticize at some point. Gladys collected their used plates and delivered fresh ones along with napkins. Since she only had seven matching plates, she gave the odd one to Ari rather than herself.

Perhaps it was Gabby’s comical story that had all the ladies guffawing that caused Ari to lose her quilting needle. She searched the floor and under the pile of material on the table but couldn’t seem to find it.

“Excuse me, Gladys,” she said. “Do you happen to have an extra needle I could use?”

 Gladys, the perfect hostess, was prepared for the Tuesday night quilting club every week, taking great pains to present an immaculate home, a huge table for their projects, and comfortable chairs. She expected the ladies to at least bring their own needles. The request struck a nerve that she couldn’t shake off.

She pasted on a fake grin and asked Ari to follow her.

“Of course. I’m really sorry.” Two of Ari’s squares fell to the floor when she stood.

Gladys led her down the back hall with floral wallpaper and a collection of hanging photos of all her grandchildren then opened a door. Ari followed her up a set of creaky stairs that rarely had visitors to an attic filled with old dressers, a hat box, a sewing chest, and dolls. “I think I have a few over here.” Gladys gently stepped over a broken board and walked around the antique lamp to a 1908 Singer sewing machine. She lifted a flap and pulled out three needles. “Will any of these suit your need?”

Ari looked at Gladys’ hand then up at her eyes. “Thank you.” She chose one and closed her hand securely around it.

Naturally, Gladys had noticed the hesitation in Ari’s step when they climbed the stairs, the reluctance to follow her across the attic, the hesitation at picking up one of the needles. Her skin grew pale, but she did all Gladys asked.

They returned to the quilting group downstairs and found the ladies laughing, sewing, and sipping their drinks. Ari sat in her chair and reorganized a few square pieces. Gladys offered refills, to which Ari asked for more of the delicious homemade sweet tea.

The new woman struggled to push thread through the eye. The needle slipped in her hand and pricked her finger. Only a second passed before Ari lay her head on the table and fell fast asleep.

The other women ignored her and continued talking. At the close of the evening, the ladies cleaned up their projects, all except Ari who still slept on the table.

Gladys picked up the new woman’s cell phone and called her family. They arrived fifteen minutes later and took her home.

To this day, Ari never finished her quilting project… neither did she ever wake.