by Karen White
CHAPTER 14
CAROLINE SAT AT THE FOLDING TABLE AND STARED AT THE BOXES of photographs in front of her. She schooled herself to think like an accountant, in straight black-and-white columns. She would organize the pictures by subject and date and try not to notice the familiar faces that stared at her from the past.
She had just picked up the oldest packet—the ones of Shelby’s infancy and early childhood—when Jewel called out in a strident voice from the craft table, “Caroline! We need your help!”
“Oh, come on. You haven’t even had a chance to get started. How could you possibly need my help already?”
All three faces turned toward her, managing to look as lost and pathetic as she thought possible.
“All right.” She stood and walked toward them, steeling herself to look over their shoulders at the quilt. “What seems to be the problem?”
Rainy flattened her hands against the quilt, her gold wedding band loose on her shriveled finger. “I started the first row without any real plan, which might have been a big mistake. You’ve always been a master at mixing colors and patterns so that it looks like it all belongs. I don’t think we need to redo the first row, but I’d like your help in planning the next one.”
Jewel popped off the bench as if she had been eagerly waiting a chance to escape. “I’m going to find something good on the stereo. I’ll be right back.”
Caroline walked slowly around the table, examining the piles of scraps and the bucket of fabrics Rainy had brought with her. She reached inside and pulled out a multicolored remnant containing every shade of blue. The colors were wrapped around one another like ribbons, each part separate but melding together at the edges to become whole. Blue had been Shelby’s favorite color.
She held it up to Rainy. “You’ll need to get more of this. I think it would be perfect for the border, to tie it all in together.”
“Actually Margaret picked that out. She said it reminded her of Shelby and should be used in the quilt.”
Caroline looked at her mother with surprise. Her mother had known Shelby all her life, but she never would have suspected that Margaret could look at that same piece of fabric and see what she saw. “Good choice, Mom. Can you get more?”
Her mother nodded, looking almost shy at the compliment. “They had a whole roll of it at the fabric store. Shouldn’t be any problem.”
“Great.” Caroline continued her inspection, pulling out different scraps and fabrics and piecing them together, then taking them apart. She felt her heart slow to a steady rhythm, and her breathing quickened as she recognized the old excitement of creating something new and beautiful out of old scraps and memories. The pain was there, too, but it was pushed aside by the thoughts of Shelby and how much she would love it, and by the new purpose Caroline felt. It was almost as if she’d gone too long without water and it was finally beginning to rain.
“I think we should keep going with the idea you started with—soft pastels and baby hues and then each row growing more and more bright and vibrant.”
Rainy took a hold of Caroline’s hand and squeezed it. “Perfect. That’s exactly how I remember her.”
The loud bass of an Avril Lavigne song pounded from the stereo as Jewel joined them again and picked up a scrap of magenta fabric. “Wow—speaking of bright! You practically need sunglasses to look at this one.” She waved it in front of Caroline’s face. “Where will this one go? The year she married my dad?”
The old pain returned, extinguishing the excitement the way a strong breath would blow out a candle. She took the pink fabric from Jewel. “No, I think we’ll use the magenta for when you were born.”
Jewel wrinkled her brow. “Why not when she got married—isn’t that more important on the quilt because it came first?”
Caroline took the cloth and focused on breathing the pain away. “Getting married was a high point in her year for her, I’m sure. But it was also a difficult year, too. She lost a good friend.”
Jewel nodded slowly. “But wouldn’t it be more realistic if on that row we showed a couple of really bright squares alongside some pale ones? My mom wasn’t one of those people who would let sadness take over everything.”
Once again, Jewel’s ability to get to the heart of something without really appearing to try caught Caroline unaware. As she had felt with Jewel’s father earlier, she wasn’t sure if she should hug her or start defending her own actions. She caught her mother’s gaze, and before she could read the “I told you so” look she was sure would appear, she set the fabric square back on the table and stepped away.
“That’s a great idea—why don’t we go with that one? But I think you all have enough to get started right now, so I guess I can leave. I’ll be in my room if you need anything else.”
She’d made it across the room before Jewel called her back. “One more thing—I forgot to tell you earlier. The athletic club at my school is having a booth at the Harvest Moon festival at the end of next month. We’re using the money to buy new uniforms for some of the teams—including Windbreakers for the swim team.” She raised her eyebrows as if to indicate to Caroline that was the main reason she was mentioning it. “We’re looking for more vendors—those are the people who sell things—and I remember Grandma Rainy saying that you used to make these cute quilted place mats when you were in high school and that they always seemed to sell like cheap nail polish.”
She was about to give her automatic response of no, when Shelby’s words floated through her mind. Find the one thing that scares you the most and do it. She looked at the eager face of the young girl and remembered how hard she swam each morning and how she still looked at the water with revulsion but dove in anyway. “Yeah, I can make a few place mats. Just tell me how many you want and what else I’ll need to do.”
Feeling as if she’d done her good deed for the day, Caroline turned toward her room, but her mother called her back. With a sinking feeling, she faced the room again.
“Remember how they used to auction off one of your memory quilts? The winner would get to pick out the colors and give you all her memorabilia and you’d make one for them. It was always the highest moneymaker for your swim team, remember?”
She groaned inwardly. Having a conversation with her mother felt a lot like being tied to a sinking boat. She didn’t want to be where she was, but she didn’t have any choice about it, either. “Yes, Mom. I remember.”
“Wouldn’t it be great for you to do it again? And since you have so much time now, you could auction off two quilts. Think of all the money you’d bring in for the athletic association!”
Rainy stood, placing her hand on Margaret’s arm. “Now, Margaret—give the girl a chance to breathe. She’s supposed to be here to rest, not spend all of her time and energy making memory quilts for strangers.”
Caroline sent a look of gratitude to Rainy. But when she saw the disappointment on her mother’s face, she had to add, “I’ll think about it,” before saying good night to everyone again and turning toward her bedroom.
Jewel’s voice followed her down the hallway. “Besides—she’s going to help with Mama’s quilt, and that’s going to take a lot of time. And why would she want to help the swim team out, anyway? I’m not allowed to be on the team, and she won’t even think about getting in the water anymore.”
She almost turned back and marched into the room to defend herself. But what Jewel had said was true and there wasn’t anything she could say that would change a thing.
As an afterthought, she turned toward the garage instead of her room, taking her purse off a hook in the back hallway as she passed through it. Staring at Shelby’s quilt, she had realized what needed to be added to the border. But she wanted to see the loon again to study the shape of the bill and the curve of the head to make sure she got it right. Besides, she’d been thinking of the injured bird all day and how she hadn’t heard its call the night before. The lake at night was as lonesome as the stone Ophelia without the loon to cry out to the s
till water. She wondered if the loon missed the water as much as the water missed the loon.
January 5, 1990
Caroline is going to make a quilt for Jude. He’s always asked her for one, but she keeps telling him that he’s into so many different things that the quilt would have to be a mile long and a mile high to fit everything on it. But then yesterday while we were ice-skating Jude did something that I think made her change her mind. Gayla Sperron (who thinks she’s so great because she’s a cheerleader and her dad owns the Mercedes dealership in Truro) was making fun of Caroline by saying she was going to be an old maid because she made quilts and she was never going to get married because her skin would be so wrinkled from all that swimming and she would be blind from all that close needlework. Jude dumped an entire Coke on her head and took Caroline home.
I think Gayla is just jealous of Caroline because she sees what Caroline is really like behind the glasses and the face without makeup—and even Gayla knows that when that mask comes off there will be no competition! I just hope that I’ll be around when that happens.
Anyway, Caroline said she was ready to do a quilt for Jude. She doesn’t know how long it will take her—especially since she says she’ll only work on it while they’re here for holidays (like now). She’s started working on it at my mom’s store but has asked me if I could keep it in my hope chest when she goes back to Atlanta. She said Jude is just like a little kid before Christmas—always searching for hidden presents. I guess that’s just another reason why everybody loves him—he’s always expecting something great in every dark corner. Caroline said she wished she could be more like him. She laughed and said that every time she looked in a closet or under a bed, the only thing she expected to see was her mother’s face telling her to stop. It’s funny how the biggest truths always seem to be hidden in humor.
Unfortunately, I think she’s right. But not for the reasons Caroline thinks. As much of a jock as Jude is, he needs mothering. You know that expression “Still waters run deep”? That’s Jude. Deep inside he’s shy and insecure, and his mother knows this. He needs that extra attention from her, and she gives it to him so he can be the boy he wants to be. She protects him from unpleasant things because she knows how hard he’ll take it. It’s because of her that he always sees the sun behind every shadow.
It’s different with Caroline, though. Mrs. Collier once told me that when Caroline was small she wouldn’t let anybody show her how to tie her shoelaces—she wanted to do it all on her own. She stayed outside on the porch one whole day until she could figure it out and never once allowed her mother to help. I think Mrs. Collier has just learned to stay out of her way but make sure she’s there to stop her before she gets hurt. I wouldn’t want that job at all. It would be too much like holding up your hand to stop a speeding train.
When Drew pulled up in the parking lot of Rainy Days, he saw Margaret Collier’s Cadillac parked outside. Since he knew that the quilting bee was still happening at her house, he figured it had to be Caroline inside.
He looked for the key on his key ring and then remembered he hadn’t put it there yet. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. He didn’t officially take charge of the store until November first, but Rainy had made it very clear that she already considered him to be the new owner. Testing the doorknob and finding it unlocked, he entered the store.
A soft humming came from the kitchen, and he walked through the darkened store toward it. The door was half-open and he stood for a moment looking in.
A circular pen made up of chicken wire and rushes took up most of the space in front of the bay window. The loon sat at the edge of the pen, one leg and one arm sporting bright white bandages, allowing itself to be stroked on the back by Caroline, who sat cross-legged on the other side of the chicken wire.
She was humming, but she had an expression on her face that made it clear her thoughts were far away from the kitchen in the back of Rainy’s store. A slight smile curved her lips, as if she were privy to a joke, and it made her eyes sparkle.
“Thinking happy thoughts of me driving out of town and back to South Carolina?”
The sparkle in her eyes left when she spotted him.
“No, of course not.” She bit her lip as if trying to keep from smiling. “I’m thinking of you flying out of town in a plane. That way you’d go faster.”
“That’s sweet of you. Thank you.” He came closer to the pen. “How’s our loon doing?”
“Our loon?”
“Yes, our loon. I don’t remember you getting your arm all scratched up to get him here. He’s as much mine as he is yours.”
She stopped petting the bird and let her hands fall to her lap. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. And if I forgot to say it, thank you for helping me save him.”
Drew nodded and moved to sit next to her. They both stared into the pen at the broken bird as she spoke.
“Do you really want to know what I was thinking about when you came in?”
“As long as it won’t make me blush.”
She looked at him, startled, and her cheeks flushed.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was only joking.”
She began examining her hands in her lap as he’d seen her do before. It was almost as if she needed to be reminded that it was really her speaking. “I was thinking about the time Jude wanted to catch a loon in the middle of the night. He could always talk anybody into doing anything. He got me out of bed, then went and threw rocks at Shelby’s window until she came out, too. Then he got a huge butterfly net out of the shed and piled all three of us in a two-person canoe. We followed the cry of the loon until we got to its nest next to the shore. We sat really still for almost an hour, waiting for it to take off. Jude should have known better—since he knows so much about loons—because we were right in the middle of its path. See, a loon is a really graceful swimmer, but it’s the clumsiest thing on land and when it’s trying to get airborne. It almost needs a runway to paddle its legs and flap its wings before it can rise in the air.”
Drew rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t think I want to hear the rest of this.”
“Yeah, well, that’s pretty much what my mother said, too, when she heard us come inside at five in the morning soaking wet and the canoe missing.”
“You were lucky nobody got hurt.”
She rubbed her hands over her arms as if still feeling the chilly water of the lake. “Yes, we were. But even after all that, I would probably say it was still one of the best nights of my life.”
He studied her for a moment, the pale skin over the fine bones, and found himself wishing that he had known her then, when she had laughed freely and had once felt the excitement of sitting on a darkened lake waiting to catch a wild bird.
“Did he ever catch one?”
She shook her head. “No. He said it was a good thing. That there should always be something out of reach to wish for.”
“Like crying for the moon.”
She looked at him oddly. “No, not really. Having a real goal is worthwhile. Wanting something you’ll never have is a different thing entirely.”
Drew was silent for a moment. “ ‘Crying for the moon’ was Shelby’s favorite expression. She could never understand why so many people spent so much of their energy wishing for something they couldn’t have that they ignored what they did have.”
Caroline turned away toward the loon, her face still and lovely in the soft evening light. He watched her swallow before she spoke.
“He’s doing fine. He looks ridiculous with those bandages on him, but Rainy swears she knows what she’s doing. She’s always been one to put things back together.”
“Did she help you—after your brother died?”
He didn’t think she would answer at first. But it was as if the loon had somehow become a mediator, a conduit to translate their words while deleting anything the other might take offense to. Somehow the injured bird and the story she had told him had placed them on neutral ground—for now, any
way.
She nodded. “Rainy was there for me. She’s always been there for me.”
He felt his lawyerly instincts surface. He didn’t want to spoil the rare noncombative mood, but he couldn’t stop himself. “What about your mother? Did she help?”
He knew he’d made a mistake when he saw her straighten her back and lift her shoulders. “I couldn’t cry, and all she could do was tell me there was something wrong with me because I wasn’t crying. It was only because of Rainy’s intervention that my mother didn’t send me to a psychiatrist.”
“What about your dad—were they divorced then?”
Her voice had changed. It wasn’t the soft, dreamy voice she’d used to recount the story about Jude and the loon. This was the accountant’s voice, and it had as much emotion in it as if she were calling out the bottom line in a profit/loss statement. “No. We were all one big, happy family before Jude died. And then my mom made it worse by chasing my dad away, too. She wouldn’t even let me go live with him in California after the divorce.”
She stood and brushed off the seat of her jeans with sharp slaps. “I’ve got to go. I wish you would stop dredging up the past. It serves absolutely no purpose but to bring back bad memories.”
He resisted the urge to remind her that she was the one who’d started it. He’d enjoyed it too much to make her mad. “Not all of them were bad.”
She finally met his eyes. “I think you need to leave now.”
“It’s my store.”
“Not yet it’s not. And I was here first.”
He could see her concentrating on deep breathing again, so he backed down. Standing, he said, “Okay. I’ll go now. Don’t forget our shopping expedition in the morning.”
She kept her gaze focused on the loon. “Don’t let the door hit you in the butt on the way out.”
He almost smiled. Instead he said, “By the way, did you know you’ve got a scrap of toilet paper in your hair?”