A Gentle Shell
“Not like that” Eloise giggled “you are just trying to do it wrong, aren’t you?” she said, laughing hard now. Eloise and her boyfriend Jerry were sitting in the sun under the live oak in the front yard of her parents’ home, High Grove. High Grove was a stately Greek Revival mansion that, at 100 years old, was showing her age. Her columns appeared to be leaning toward one another, as though trying to whisper age old secrets and observations to one another. There were shutters missing on more than one window, and an odd wing on the East side where both bathrooms and a kitchen had been added to the indoor amenities just two decades ago. Before that, the family had used the kitchen house and the privy that were both original to the property. A century ago, the home had been the height of elegance and grandeur, and the family who owned it wealthy beyond imagining. Now, the house was a faded remnant of itself, and the family inside little better.
One hundred years ago the daughter of the house would not have been sitting in the yard giggling with a young man so far below her station, but this too had changed with the years. Now, the family had it’s pride, and it’s name, but little else, and nothing at all that could really forbid Eloise from falling madly in love with the son of the man who ran the local garage. Jerry’s fingernails always had grease under them, but his blue eyes sparkled with kindness and his wit and generosity had won her heart. Her family was not happy, but what could they do? Disinherit her? She’d be thrilled to be unburdened by the falling home and the reputation that went with it.
So, Eloise sat with Jerry under that centuries old live oak and was attempting to teach him a simple backstitch. She was working on hand piecing a quilt, made from old flour sacks, and had promised him that he could stitch his name and the year if he’d learn the appropriate stitch.
After several failed attempts Eloise decided his work was good enough to add to her quilt, and in the center, he stitched “Jerry 1952” after he’d carefully written it in pen.
After he completed his stitching, and he and Eloise laughed at how long it had taken him to finish the simple work he turned to her and said “Ellie, I have to tell you something.” She looked at him wide eyed, her heart in her throat. “I’ve joined the army”, he said “I ship off to basic in a week”. Eloise’s eyes filled with tears “You can’t”, she said “ we are in the middle of a war”
Jerry explained that even though the US was engaged in a war in Korea he felt like it was his best option to give them a good future. He didn’t want to be a grease monkey forever, he wanted to give her the home and future she and their children deserved. The only way to do that was to go to college, and the only way he’d ever be able to afford college was with the help of the military. “Besides” he said “I’m a great mechanic. I’ll never see combat.”
Jerry never came home from that war. He never did see direct combat, but that didn’t keep his unit safe from the bombing raids carried out by the enemy. Eloise received the news with surprising stoicism. People whispered that she must not have loved that boy that much, and perhaps she felt relieved that she was released from a promise made in haste. What no one knew was that when the news of Jerry’s death came it took from Eloise all her will to live, and left in its place a gentle shell.
Eloise did eventually marry; a man that her family and all of society thought acceptable. A man whose crumbling ancient house and the bloodlines that built it were even better than her own. A man for whom she was grateful, but one she would never really love. All through her life she kept the quilt with Jerrys handwriting and stitches. It was the blanket she wanted around her when she was ill, or sad, or cold. She could wrap herself in its warmth and imagine for a minute that she was living the life she’d planned with him, wrapped in his arms. Neither the man she married nor the children she had ever knew the importance of that quilt or the secret to Eloise’s heart that it held.
Eloise left this world in 2019 at the age of 85. She left instructions that she be wrapped in that quilt in her coffin. Her husband had preceded her in death, and her daughter was the one who oversaw the carrying out of her mother’s last wishes. At the wake Eloise’s daughter came to kiss her mother’s cheek one last time. As she bent close, she saw, for the first time in her life, the name and date stitched into her mother’s favorite quilt. Questions sprung to her mind as she remembered her mother’s lifetime dependence on the quilt whenever she had felt weak. Her daughter then knew that she would spend the rest of her own life wondering who was this man in whose embrace her mother would spend eternity.
“Not like that” Eloise giggled “you are just trying to do it wrong, aren’t you?” she said, laughing hard now. Eloise and her boyfriend Jerry were sitting in the sun under the live oak in the front yard of her parents’ home, High Grove. High Grove was a stately Greek Revival mansion that, at 100 years old, was showing her age. Her columns appeared to be leaning toward one another, as though trying to whisper age old secrets and observations to one another. There were shutters missing on more than one window, and an odd wing on the East side where both bathrooms and a kitchen had been added to the indoor amenities just two decades ago. Before that, the family had used the kitchen house and the privy that were both original to the property. A century ago, the home had been the height of elegance and grandeur, and the family who owned it wealthy beyond imagining. Now, the house was a faded remnant of itself, and the family inside little better.
One hundred years ago the daughter of the house would not have been sitting in the yard giggling with a young man so far below her station, but this too had changed with the years. Now, the family had it’s pride, and it’s name, but little else, and nothing at all that could really forbid Eloise from falling madly in love with the son of the man who ran the local garage. Jerry’s fingernails always had grease under them, but his blue eyes sparkled with kindness and his wit and generosity had won her heart. Her family was not happy, but what could they do? Disinherit her? She’d be thrilled to be unburdened by the falling home and the reputation that went with it.
So, Eloise sat with Jerry under that centuries old live oak and was attempting to teach him a simple backstitch. She was working on hand piecing a quilt, made from old flour sacks, and had promised him that he could stitch his name and the year if he’d learn the appropriate stitch.
After several failed attempts Eloise decided his work was good enough to add to her quilt, and in the center, he stitched “Jerry 1952” after he’d carefully written it in pen.
After he completed his stitching, and he and Eloise laughed at how long it had taken him to finish the simple work he turned to her and said “Ellie, I have to tell you something.” She looked at him wide eyed, her heart in her throat. “I’ve joined the army”, he said “I ship off to basic in a week”. Eloise’s eyes filled with tears “You can’t”, she said “ we are in the middle of a war”
Jerry explained that even though the US was engaged in a war in Korea he felt like it was his best option to give them a good future. He didn’t want to be a grease monkey forever, he wanted to give her the home and future she and their children deserved. The only way to do that was to go to college, and the only way he’d ever be able to afford college was with the help of the military. “Besides” he said “I’m a great mechanic. I’ll never see combat.”
Jerry never came home from that war. He never did see direct combat, but that didn’t keep his unit safe from the bombing raids carried out by the enemy. Eloise received the news with surprising stoicism. People whispered that she must not have loved that boy that much, and perhaps she felt relieved that she was released from a promise made in haste. What no one knew was that when the news of Jerry’s death came it took from Eloise all her will to live, and left in its place a gentle shell.
Eloise did eventually marry; a man that her family and all of society thought acceptable. A man whose crumbling ancient house and the bloodlines that built it were even better than her own. A man for whom she was grateful, but one she would never really love. All through her life she kept the quilt with Jerrys handwriting and stitches. It was the blanket she wanted around her when she was ill, or sad, or cold. She could wrap herself in its warmth and imagine for a minute that she was living the life she’d planned with him, wrapped in his arms. Neither the man she married nor the children she had ever knew the importance of that quilt or the secret to Eloise’s heart that it held.
Eloise left this world in 2019 at the age of 85. She left instructions that she be wrapped in that quilt in her coffin. Her husband had preceded her in death, and her daughter was the one who oversaw the carrying out of her mother’s last wishes. At the wake Eloise’s daughter came to kiss her mother’s cheek one last time. As she bent close, she saw, for the first time in her life, the name and date stitched into her mother’s favorite quilt. Questions sprung to her mind as she remembered her mother’s lifetime dependence on the quilt whenever she had felt weak. Her daughter then knew that she would spend the rest of her own life wondering who was this man in whose embrace her mother would spend eternity.
“Not like that” Eloise giggled “you are just trying to do it wrong, aren’t you?” she said, laughing hard now. Eloise and her boyfriend Jerry were sitting in the sun under the live oak in the front yard of her parents’ home, High Grove. High Grove was a stately Greek Revival mansion that, at 100 years old, was showing her age. Her columns appeared to be leaning toward one another, as though trying to whisper age old secrets and observations to one another. There were shutters missing on more than one window, and an odd wing on the East side where both bathrooms and a kitchen had been added to the indoor amenities just two decades ago. Before that, the family had used the kitchen house and the privy that were both original to the property. A century ago, the home had been the height of elegance and grandeur, and the family who owned it wealthy beyond imagining. Now, the house was a faded remnant of itself, and the family inside little better.
One hundred years ago the daughter of the house would not have been sitting in the yard giggling with a young man so far below her station, but this too had changed with the years. Now, the family had it’s pride, and it’s name, but little else, and nothing at all that could really forbid Eloise from falling madly in love with the son of the man who ran the local garage. Jerry’s fingernails always had grease under them, but his blue eyes sparkled with kindness and his wit and generosity had won her heart. Her family was not happy, but what could they do? Disinherit her? She’d be thrilled to be unburdened by the falling home and the reputation that went with it.
So, Eloise sat with Jerry under that centuries old live oak and was attempting to teach him a simple backstitch. She was working on hand piecing a quilt, made from old flour sacks, and had promised him that he could stitch his name and the year if he’d learn the appropriate stitch.
After several failed attempts Eloise decided his work was good enough to add to her quilt, and in the center, he stitched “Jerry 1952” after he’d carefully written it in pen.
After he completed his stitching, and he and Eloise laughed at how long it had taken him to finish the simple work he turned to her and said “Ellie, I have to tell you something.” She looked at him wide eyed, her heart in her throat. “I’ve joined the army”, he said “I ship off to basic in a week”. Eloise’s eyes filled with tears “You can’t”, she said “ we are in the middle of a war”
Jerry explained that even though the US was engaged in a war in Korea he felt like it was his best option to give them a good future. He didn’t want to be a grease monkey forever, he wanted to give her the home and future she and their children deserved. The only way to do that was to go to college, and the only way he’d ever be able to afford college was with the help of the military. “Besides” he said “I’m a great mechanic. I’ll never see combat.”
Jerry never came home from that war. He never did see direct combat, but that didn’t keep his unit safe from the bombing raids carried out by the enemy. Eloise received the news with surprising stoicism. People whispered that she must not have loved that boy that much, and perhaps she felt relieved that she was released from a promise made in haste. What no one knew was that when the news of Jerry’s death came it took from Eloise all her will to live, and left in its place a gentle shell.
Eloise did eventually marry; a man that her family and all of society thought acceptable. A man whose crumbling ancient house and the bloodlines that built it were even better than her own. A man for whom she was grateful, but one she would never really love. All through her life she kept the quilt with Jerrys handwriting and stitches. It was the blanket she wanted around her when she was ill, or sad, or cold. She could wrap herself in its warmth and imagine for a minute that she was living the life she’d planned with him, wrapped in his arms. Neither the man she married nor the children she had ever knew the importance of that quilt or the secret to Eloise’s heart that it held.
Eloise left this world in 2019 at the age of 85. She left instructions that she be wrapped in that quilt in her coffin. Her husband had preceded her in death, and her daughter was the one who oversaw the carrying out of her mother’s last wishes. At the wake Eloise’s daughter came to kiss her mother’s cheek one last time. As she bent close, she saw, for the first time in her life, the name and date stitched into her mother’s favorite quilt. Questions sprung to her mind as she remembered her mother’s lifetime dependence on the quilt whenever she had felt weak. Her daughter then knew that she would spend the rest of her own life wondering who was this man in whose embrace her mother would spend eternity.
Bust 34 maximum
Waist 34 maximum
This shirt is very petite and best worn as a step in style. NO Stretch
This charming pull over is fashioned from two pillowcases embroidered with bright cotton flowers, handmade bobbin lace, and a hand pieced quilttop. 100% handmade by the artist. Materials sourced in Arkansas
Measurement: Bust up to 34” Waist up to 34” front
Care Instructions and General Information: This one of a kind blouse is fashioned from a materials that are approximately 70 + years old. It should be hand washed and laid flat to dry. Ironing on high with starch will preserve crispness. Due to the age there may be minor discolorations or areas of wear commiserate with age. This is normal and to be considered as part of the beauty of the garment
No returns or exchanges due ot the one of a kind nature of the items