When she could no longer tell one sound from the other, Cecilia opened her eyes and looked down at her work. The quilt’s base was a muted yellow, each block held together by her bright golden thread. The Irish Chain and a Star pattern crisscrossed the fabric in pale blue squares and diamonds, corner kissing corner. It was thick and heavy and the perfect size to swaddle a newborn.
Or it would be, once she was finished. And she would finish. It was the one thing, in all the world, that Cecilia was sure of. She didn’t have all the answers. Soon she would be a stranger in a strange land. What the future held was, as it always was, a mystery. But the quilt, the quilt was not.
Needle held at the ready, Cecilia focused on the sway of the ship as it navigated the dark waters, allowing the rhythm to return to her feet.
Tap, tap
Slosh, slosh
Swish, swish
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