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Rated: ASR · Fiction · Family · #1916008
Three names on a quilt block
Angel stood in the middle of her grandmother's bedroom wondering where to begin. Well, she thought picking up a cigar box off the Chip and Dale dresser. I guess I'll begin with this. She carried the box to the canopied bed and sit down. Opening the box, she found a pair of red handled scissors laying on top of a folded piece of notebook paper. Placing the scissors on the bed, she unfolded the paper. It was a letter addressed to her mother. Wiping a tear from her eye, she read it silently.

Dear Angelica,
I knew that eventually you would return to see your beautiful baby daughter, all though by the time you read this she may not be a baby any more. We named her Angel because she looks so much like you. Your brother, Clayton, and his wife, Claudia, have agreed to raise her as their own. Your father and I wanted you to know that we love you and forgive you.
Your Mother forever,

She laid the letter next to the scissors and removed a folded piece of white cotton cloth, with a straight pin holding it closed. Removing the straight pin, laid it next to her, and opened cloth. She found that it was a quilt block with three names embroidered in scarlet thread.

"My mother's name, my name," she whispered. "But who's Theodor Fredrick Moorhouse?" She moved her right leg, "Ouch!" She shouted, then pulled the pin out of her thigh.

"What's wrong, Angel," a blond woman came running into the room.

"Mama," she looked into the woman's blue eyes. "You came back."


"Who's this man," she pointed to the name on the quilt block.

"Your father," the woman said before she disappeared.
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