The Christmas Quilts

by Olivia Gaines

  Bisa was happy to see another friendly face when she turned to find Lily Rose speaking to her. “I had floor seats tonight since the stairs make my hip ache something awful,” she said.

  She was accompanied by a tall, thin man with a regal bearing, piercing blue eyes, and veneered teeth.

  “Bisa this is Amos, my grandson,” she said.

  Expecting a deep voice from the man, Bisa tried not to recoil as Amos opened his mouth and sounded exactly like Rupaul. “Girl don’t you look all kinds a keee-yoot in that black dress. I love it!” Amos said.

  “Thank you. You are looking rather dapper yourself,” she said, noting the red tie. All of the Richardson men had worn black suits with red ties.

  “Oh, this old suit. Grandma wouldn’t let me wear this fierce skirt and jacket I just made, but what are you going to do. One day, they are going to have to accept me for who I am and deal with it,” Amos said.

  “Until that day comes, you continue to slay ‘em with that vivacious attitude,” she told him.

  “If I weren’t such a flaming hair dresser, I would steal you from Cody and make you mine,” Amos said, kissing her cheek.

  “Stop slobbering over my woman,” Cody said, bringing Bisa a small plate of appetizers.

  “You are just angry because I got all the looks,” Amos said.

  “Don’t you have some hair to tease or something?” Cody jested.

  “I do, so will you be able to take Nana to the house on your way back to the hpuse? I have an early morning and I need to head home,” he told Cody.

  “Man, I am on a date,” Cody said, scowling at his cousin.

  “Bisa, forgive my intrusion on your one hump with a chump evening, but I have to get back to Columbia. Have Cody bring you up one day and I will treat you to a full makeover, mani, pedi, and the works,” he said, kissing Lily Rose’s cheek. “I loved our hot date, Grandma!”

  The look of disappointment on Cody’s face was shielded as his frustration took a back seat to the tired look in Lily’s Rose’s expression. He needed to get her home. It never failed that any time he tried to have a life, his cousins or family would drop their end of the flag pole, with an excuse of why they couldn’t hold up their portion of the weight.

  “I’m sorry,” he told Bisa as he sat down his plate. “Nana is tired and I need to get her home.”

  “No worries; we can leave,” she said.

  Aunt Charlotte pulled at Bisa’s wrap, asking for a minute of her time. Bisa’s hackles were up expecting a candid conversation on why her relationship with Cody would be unacceptable. She squared her shoulders for the fight

  “I understand you own The Quilting Bee,” Charlotte said.

  “Yes, I do,” Bisa said flatly.

  “I would love to bring my granddaughter Lenora in for a class. Do you offer beginner’s sessions?” Charlotte wanted to know.

  “Of course. You can visit my website to see the classes and projects offered as well as register for the project sessions online,” she responded.

  “Perfect,” Charlotte said, pausing.

  Bisa waited for her next remarks which she knew was either going to be racist or piss her off.

  “Thank you,” Charlotte said.

  “For what?”

  “Cody seems so happy. He needs some happy in his life. I’m glad he found you,” Charlotte said.

  For the damnedest reason, Bisa teared up. Tears rolled from the corner of her eyes as she tried feebly to wipe them away without ruining her makeup.

  “That is not what I thought you were going to say,” she confessed to Charlotte.

  “I have resting bitch face. I can’t help it. No matter what I do, my face looks like one of those stereotyped characters in the movies who pulls her kids away from the black man walking down the street. It is a curse,” Charlotte said, smiling. She offered Bisa a hug, which she gladly accepted.

  Cody signaled to her it was time to leave as he escorted his Nana outside. “Bisa, will you ladies wait here while I go get the car?”

  “Of course,” Bisa said.

  Lily Rose slipped her thin arm inside of Bisa’s. “Stay the night with him,” Lily Rose said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “He had hoped to have a night off from babysitting an old woman, but my family always lets him down. It’s not fair that he is unable to enjoy the life of a young man, Bisa. You are welcome to spend the night in our home,” Lily Rose said as the car pulled up to the curb.

  The old woman sauntered down the stairs as if she hadn’t said a word, sliding into the backseat, looking straight ahead as if she’d hadn’t just given her permission to have sex in her house.

  “I have died and been brought back in an alternate hell where everyone is trying to either trying to get me laid or pregnant by this man,” Bisa said.

  The ride to the Richardson home commenced in silence with Lily Rose napping in the backseat, Cody pre-occupied in his thoughts, and Bisa worrying if she could in fact stay the night without waking the dead when she and Cody went at it. Unfortunately, Lily Rose’s statement had the same effect as a Benadryl. Her itching had completely stopped.

  Dried up.

  Left the room.

  And died a slow death.

  “Bisa, come inside while I get her settled and then I will change and take you home,” he said.

  She stood in the rotunda, looking up the stairs and contemplating spending the night in his home, in his bed, and in his world. The waiting was over. Too much time in her life had been spent worrying about things she couldn’t control, loving or falling for the wrong men based on some archaic ideal of what love should be and what it really is. Giving up your date to bring your Grandmother home and put her to bed is love. If he could take care of his grandmother the way that he did, there were no doubts in her mind that he wouldn’t do the same for her and their children.

  “Thanks, I’ll just be a minute,” he said, kissing her cheek and bounding up the stairs. Lily Rose waved goodnight as she made her way to her room.

  Slowly, she climbed the stairs behind him, reaching the landing and smoothing down her dress. Her sweaty palms left damp traces on the fabric as she forced her legs to move down the long hall to his bedroom. Tapping lightly on the door, she pushed it open to find him mid-way to removing his pants. Kicking off her shoes and placing them near to door, she closed it, taking off her wrap and lying it on the chair.

  “We don’t have to drive back tonight,” she said to him.

  Cody swallowed hard. “You sure? It’s no problem.”

  “I’m tired of ripping and running, Cody. I am ready to rest my head,” she said, reaching for the straps on her dress, pulling them down, exposing her shoulders.

  He picked up on the meaning in her words. “Yes, the wait has been...daunting,” he told her, completely removing his pants.

  Bisa walked over to the bed and turned back the covers. Her dress pooled at her feet and she picked it up, looking about for his closet and a spare hanger on which to drape the clothing. She hung the dress in the closet, coming back to the bed, sliding in between his sheets as if it were a bedtime ritual she completed every night. His reaction was unhurried as he undressed, hanging his suit in the closet and joining her in the bed.

  He lay on his back looking at the ceiling, trying to find the right words to move the action forward in the story he was playing in his head. A gentle hand touched his chest. Cody held her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips.

  “We are through running. Here is where we make our stand. Tell me you are ready for what is next,” he said.

  “I have no idea what I am even doing, but I am here, Cody.”

  “Just tell me you are open and ready to love me and in return I will love you back. Tell me you are out of your head replaying scenarios in that head of yours of what could or what should be,” he said.

  “I am ready to love you,” she said.

  “But do you?”

  Bisa rolled to her side, a long leg laying over his, her
mouth close to his neck. “I love you, Cody,” she told him.

  “That’s what I needed to hear” he said, rolling over, his body covering the length of her frame as his mouth connected with hers. “I love you too, Bisa.”

  The rest of her words were silenced as Cody spent the remainder of the night tenderly, showing her how much he cared for his little Quilting Bee.

  BISA HUMMED LOUDLY as she went about the store restocking the shelves for the week. Since being seen on C-Span, her business had increased. Mondays were the best, with people coming to buy more fabrics to make up for the messes they’d made over the weekend. Her body was also humming from the sweet connection from last night in Cody’s arms. They had moved in tandem, almost as if they were made for each other, which was a first for Bisa.

  A light tap was heard at the window and she looked up to see Antoine standing there. The smile she’d been wearing since she woke up still radiated as she turned off the alarm and opened the shop door to let him in.

  “Don’t you look amazing,” Antoine said. “You are positively glowing.”

  “Life is good,” she replied, giving him a cheek when he leaned in to kiss her. “What brings you by on a Sunday?”

  “I was concerned, that’s all. I haven’t really heard from you...and that dude I work with, Cody, has gotten tight-lipped with me,” he said. “Just making sure you are alright.”

  “I’m good. I appreciate you checking on me but I am a grown woman. I am also resilient,” she said, still holding the door knob.

  “Bisa, I know this may be exciting and all, but those types of men...,” he started.

  “What type of men are we talking about, Antoine?”

  “You know the type. The dude who wants to take a walk on the wild side, do something different so he can brag to his buddies about his conquests,” Antoine said, looking at her with an intensity.

  “I’m sorry. The closest man I know like that is you.”

  “Baby, what I am trying to say to you is that a man like Cody will never take you home for Sunday dinner with his rich white family. You will never spend the night in that big house he lives in next to the country club. Seriously, do you think he will take you to the opera to sit with his family of doctors and judges in the seasonal box seats? Wake up Bisa!” Antoine raised his voice at the last portion. “This relationship will never go anywhere.”

  “First and foremost, I’m not your Baby, and secondly, you are full of crap,” she told him.

  “Tell me how I am wrong,” Antoine goaded her.

  “I had Sunday dinner with his family last month. His mother loves me and is excited to get grandbabies from us,” she said, enjoying the shock on Antoine’s face. She kept striking while the iron was hot.

  “As far as I know, the Richardson’s don’t have season tickets to the opera, but they do have them to the ballet, where I joined those doctors and lawyers last night in their box seats. I also got to take pictures with the Principal ballerinas,” she said smiling.

  “Well, goody for you. Let me know how it goes when he meets your mother,” Antoine chided.

  “She loves him. My mom even cooked him dinner last week,” Bisa said.

  Antoine stood still, looking foolish. She couldn’t help herself – she had to go one step further and hammer the nail in deeper in the sore spot in his soul.

  “The house in Aiken has a cupola in it winding upwards of the staircase. Cody’s bedroom is on the second floor. He has the really big bed, which he states is the perfect size for a family on Friday movie nights. I swear, every time I turned over last night, seems like I still had so much room,” she said with a smile. “Let me tell you, making breakfast this morning in that kitchen with his Grandmother was amazing. She is an astounding woman. I see why he cherishes her so much.”

  He said nothing as he walked out of the door.

  It was childish, but it felt good to have the upper hand for a change. This time when her boyfriend of convenience walked out of her door and her life, she had no regrets of what she could have done differently to keep the man. Good riddance, Antoine.

  Chapter Eighteen- The Binding

  A year sped by as scraps of fabric collected in sweet grass baskets chronicled the building of life together with Cody and Bisa. She worked diligently on her quilting masterpiece titled “Acceptance” as he worked each Monday and Wednesday, quilting away the hours on his Nana’s quilt tops. His binding technique he perfected by the time he finished the first container of tops.

  As May rolled around, Bisa proudly showed him the midpoint of her work of an African American mother and daughter. In July, the second half of her quilt was completed of a white mother and son reaching towards the center of the quilt. In later August, the center of the quilt featured a bi-racial child holding a bouquet of wildflowers that resembled the flowers Cody presented to her once a month on date night.

  Her life became brighter as Cody hired a web designer to make over her website, tripling the mail order portion of her business. The leaves fell in September, ushering in a need to hire an assistant in the shop and two in the warehouse for dying and cutting fabric. Weekday classes filled up quickly as mothers and daughters learned the art of quilt-making by machine or by hand.

  “It seems a little sexist to me,” Cody remarked one Friday evening as they closed the shop.

  “Sexist. How can quilting be sexist? Cody, you say the weirdest things,” she told him, kissing his cheek.

  “There are no classes for men,” he said somberly.

  “You are welcome to offer a beginner’s course for the men if you’d like,” she said to him. She had no idea he would take her up on it.

  Cody proudly showcased his self-designed ad for a ‘Boy’s Night In’ on the second and fourth Friday in October. It posted to her website with a sign up link for men who loved the fabric arts and needle work of all types. To ensure the word was spread, he Tweeted it to several online groups of male enthusiasts and posted the link for sign up to Bisa’s social media page and even went as far as joining her podcast to talk about the sessions. In less than a week, both sessions were full.

  “I’m impressed,” she told him as he set out hot wings, meat loaded pizzas, and pretzels with sugary sweet sodas.

  “I don’t know what the day may bring, but I can only try,” he said.

  The men came in all shapes and sizes along with his cousin Amos, who turned out to be a cross-stitcher. Three hours sped by while soft music played in the background and the men worked on everything from needle-point to crotchet. To his dismay, there was only one quilter in the group, an odd little man named Jacob who enjoyed making crazy quilts.

  “That went well,” she said as empty platters from the food were washed and put away.

  “Only one quilter. Jacob, who makes crazy quilts, with unusual materials like old pairs of his underwear that he likes to stitch lace around,” Cody said with a look of distaste on his face.

  Bisa found herself laughing, a joyous sound which initially sounded foreign to her ears, but in the last nine months had become a melodious friend that accompanied the movements in her life wherever she went. One Sunday a month, she had dinner with his family at the house in Aiken. The third Sunday of the month, she and Cody had dinner with her mother in Charleston. After complaining of stomach sensitivity, Aneta began to bake meals for Cody.

  The Acceptance quilt was boxed up that September and shipped to Kentucky for judging. It only took six weeks for Bisa to be awarded the Master Quilter certification in early December. She proudly displayed the award sticker upon the window of the shop.

  “I worked so long to earn that sticker and looking at it now, it feels, I dunno, anticlimactic,” she said, running her fingers across it.

  “What feels anticlimactic is me being itchy, and my beautiful Quilting Bee not taking those nails on my back to ease my discomfort,” he said closing one eye.

  “I tell you what, Cody Richardson, your itchy butt needs to see a dermatologist,” she said, laughing a
nd running up the stairs.

  It was Saturday night, which meant they were at his Nana’s home. The closet in his bedroom now held as many sets of Bisa’s clothing as his own. The back and forth was starting to get to him. He wanted to wake up to her every day.

  “You know, Bisa, it could save you a great deal of time if you converted the upstairs portion of the Quilting Bee to an additional workspace and storage,” he said.

  “Sure. Then I will just move in here,” she said.

  “Okay,” Cody responded.

  “Stop being silly,” she said to him. “I can’t move in here with you and Ms. Lily.”

  “It is what I want. It’s what I need, Bisa. I am tired of this one night here and there. My day should start and end with you in my arms.”

  On the fifteenth day of December, she moved into the Richardson home. Lily Rose was fading and Bisa worked with Cody to finish the remaining quilts before her birthday on Christmas Eve. Thus far throughout the past year, she had spent most of the holidays with him and his family. Normally, she and her mother would board a plane the week before Christmas to the islands. This year, her mother was vacationing in Jamaica with a guy by the name of Horace, who was the real reason Aneta stopped frying everything she ate. He was a nice man with a lazy eye and a laugh which was infectious.

  “I can’t tell when he’s looking at me or you,” Cody said as he left the house.

  “Cody, that’s not nice,” Bisa said to him. “What if our child comes out with one lazy eye?”

  “Then he will wear a little tiny eye patch and we will call him Blackbeard,” he said, chuckling. He shared the story with Lily Rose, who also found no humor in his words.

  Her steps began to slow as the days passed leading up to her birthday. Christmas Eve arrived with all the members of the family at the home, celebrating the grand dame. Lily Rose sat in the large rocker and twenty four boxes sat in front of her with large labels. She passed out each box to her family, smiling at the joy on their faces as each member recalled the pieces of fabrics in each quilt. The mother’s remembered the clothing belonging to their children while the older kids fawned and fussed over the stitches.