“You’re right,” April said. “Look ahead at some of the other squares. This whole quilt is made from remnants of the things she made for us. I didn’t even know she kept them. Hey, there’s a square with a stain on it! I remember when I spilled the communion wine, or I guess I should say grape juice, on that dress when I was about twelve years old.”

“And there’s one with a smear of mustard that I got on my blouse when she let us roast hot dogs over an open fire out in the yard. She fussed because it had dried before she got it in the washer and the stain didn’t come out,” Nessa said.

“That last row is the year we were all fifteen. Remember she made us matching shirts? I see part of the material over there,” Nessa said. “But why would she save bits of all those things all these years? We’ve all just turned thirty-one. Some of this stuff has to be as old as we are.”

“I think it’s her way of letting us know that she loved us,” April said.

Flynn couldn’t believe she’d said that, not after learning so much about her relationship with Nanny Lucy the night before. “Why would she treat you like she did if she loved you?”

“All she had was her quilting. There she was, saddled with a miserable lifestyle she didn’t want,” April said. “Kids and grandkids that disappointed her and made her remember her sin. Her husband quit paying attention to her when she got pregnant, so that had to affect her, too. Uncle Isaac wanted to please her, so he went into the ministry, but I wonder if he truly loves what he does. Uncle Matthew is constantly looking for love. My mother probably just wanted someone to show her affection.”

Complete silence filled the shed for a full minute. Flynn couldn’t think of a single word to say, because April was right. His father was constantly looking for love and never finding it, just as Flynn had done.

Finally Nessa nodded. “You probably hit the nail right on the head, April, but I’m wondering what Nanny Lucy might have done with her life if she hadn’t been dealt such a raw deal. Her sewing is so good, I wonder if she might have been a home economics teacher.”

April held up both palms. “There are no buts here, Nessa. I can read, and a lot of what I read in self-help books is beginning to make sense now. We can’t go back and redo or undo the past, but we don’t have to let it define us, like it evidently has Uncle Isaac and Uncle Matthew and even my mother when she was alive, right along with all three of us.”