The Calico Heart

by Patricia Kiyono

  Knowing his wife had his grandfather's approval had meant a lot to him, since he’d always tried to please the older man and live up to his expectations. Now, Dave realized just how misguided he had been, but he wouldn’t allow himself to become embittered. Valentine’s Day was about love, and he planned to win back the woman whose heart he had almost trampled.

  He remembered the gift he had once carved for her from an old piece of oak. It was a small heart, carved with a design she’d admired at a quilt show. He'd made a loop at the top so it could hang on a necklace. He’d finished it by carving their initials on the back. Then he’d stained and polished it until it had gleamed.

  He'd almost been embarrassed to give her such a simple gift, but he’d put a note in with it saying that she would always have his heart. She’d claimed it was the best gift she'd ever received and had worn it every day for several years. He’d intended to make her a matching jewelry box, but life had gotten busy. He hadn't carved in years. Once the kids had come along, it had seemed like there just was never enough time.

  But now, the kids were grown and gone. Sure, he was busy with his promotion, but he had time when Syl went to her quilt group. Maybe he'd try his hand at carving again. He could stop at the lumberyard on his way home and look for a nice piece of oak. He could keep it in the trunk until Syl went to bed then sneak it into his workshop in the basement. If he carved her another gift, could he win back her heart? Or would her loving heart be lost to him after he’d nearly tossed it aside?

  It was definitely worth a try.

  Chapter Thirty

  "Is everything alright, dear?"

  Sylvia looked up from the quilt book she was perusing to find Lila standing on the other side of the pattern counter, studying her. Concern etched the older woman’s gentle features.

  "You’ve been quiet all evening."

  "I’m fine," Sylvia replied, trying to muster a reassuring smile, but tears brimmed to the surface betraying her.

  "Are you worried about Myra’s announcement? Were you surprised?" her friend asked, referring to the card they’d found on the store bulletin board where the Stitching Post’s owner usually hung free quilt patterns and her monthly newsletter. Tonight, Myra had posted a short notice that she and her husband were planning to sell the quilt shop and retire somewhere warmer than snowy Michigan.

  Sylvia nodded, although it hadn’t really been a complete surprise. In the twenty-odd years Sylvia had been coming to the shop, Myra had always talked about retiring to Florida or Arizona one day. Still, the announcement had hit Sylvia hard, reminding her of how much her own life had changed over the last eight months. Now, she blinked, forcing back her tears.

  Lila reached over the high counter and gave Sylvia’s hand a motherly squeeze. "Don’t worry, sweetie. Myra told me she listed the shop with Theresa. You know our Tee. She’ll find the perfect new owner for us. Someone who loves quilting as much as we do."

  "I hope so. I’ve made so many friends here. I’d hate to lose all of you."

  "Don’t be silly," the older woman paused and scooted a tall stool over to the counter. She perched on it, leaned her elbows on the counter, and settled in for a chat. "Honey, even if this place closes — and there’s no reason to think it will — we’ll find somewhere else to get together. At a church or in someone’s home. And we’ll all still be friends."

  "Probably. But it won’t be the same."

  "Of course it won’t. Our lives are full of changes. Sickness, health, births, deaths, marriages, divorces—"

  Hearing the D word made Sylvia’s heart lurch. Her hands trembled, and she moved them quickly to her lap, hoping her friend hadn’t noticed. But Lila’s face told Sylvia that she had.

  "I’m sure you’re right," Sylvia rushed to reassure her.

  "Now, why doesn’t that convince me?" Lila asked, cupping her chin in her hands. "What’s really going on, Sylvia Miller? I noticed you haven’t worked on your travel quilt — or much of anything — since before Christmas. ‘Fess up, honey. Tell Mama Lila what’s really bothering you."

  "It’s nothing." Sylvia puffed out a breath. "At least I hope it isn’t."

  "That doesn’t sound like nothing to me," her friend remarked and studied her over the top of her wire-framed glasses.

  "I don’t want to bother you with my problems."

  "Nonsense. We’re friends, it’s what friends do! Is everything okay at home?"

  Sylvia glanced at the corner where their other friends were chatting over their needlework. No one seemed to have noticed Lila and her having their little heart-to-heart. Still, she lowered her voice so the others couldn’t hear before continuing. "Nothing is okay, Lila."

  "Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. What happened?"

  "Everything and nothing," Sylvia replied. She took a deep breath. "Remember I told you Dave changed his mind about retiring early and said he doesn’t want to travel?"

  Lila nodded. "He had the chance to become vice-president at his company. I thought you agreed with his decision."

  "He really never asked. But I still tried to be as supportive as possible. I thought getting that promotion would make him happy, and it’s only for a few more years, after all. But things have only gotten worse. And since I started traveling without him, all we ever do is argue."

  "Maybe his new position is the culprit. He’s probably put a lot of pressure on himself to succeed."

  "I could understand if that were the case. But Dave comes home late, barely says a word while he eats dinner, then closets himself in his office or the basement. Most nights, he doesn’t come to bed until after I’m asleep. Sometimes, he doesn’t come to bed at all. He’s slept more than once in his office chair."

  "Have you tried to talk to him? Ask what’s bothering him?"

  "I finally decided to do just that last night. I went to his office to talk to him and..."

  "What happened?" Lila asked.

  Sylvia choked back the lump that had had formed in her throat and took a shuddering breath.

  "I was in the hallway outside his office, about to knock on the door, when I heard him on the phone. I think he was talking to our attorney, Jim Anderson. Dave said something about going into the office this morning to sign some papers... Lila... I think my husband is planning to divorce me."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  "And we want to wish all our radio listeners a very Happy Valentine’s Day on this bright—"

  "Oh please, stop already," Sylvia whispered and jabbed the power button on the kitchen radio to shut it off.

  She didn’t need any more reminders of what today was. For the last two weeks, it was all she heard when she turned on the radio or TV, all she saw in magazines and store ads. All those hearts and flowers and happy couples had brought tears to her eyes every time, no matter how much she’d tried to steel herself against them. Now, here it was: the big day itself.

  In the silent kitchen, she reached in her jeans pocket and brought out the worn wooden heart that Dave had given her on Valentine’s Day so long ago. She ran her fingertip over the lovingly carved lines, smiled when she encountered the tooth mark on the back from the day little Davey had decided to use it as a teething ring. She remembered how Dave had offered to sand off the mark, but they’d decided to leave it as a souvenir. They’d been so happy and crazy in love.

  She bit her bottom lip to keep away the tears that threatened to overwhelm her at the memory. The last few weeks had stretched her nerves to the limit. When Dave left each morning, she worried he would come home that night to tell her he was divorcing her. Instead, more often than not, he came home and they ate in silence and spent the evening in separate parts of the house. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand this agonizing waiting.

  Today would be the worst day of all.

  "Pull yourself together, Sylvia," she chided herself. "Stop thinking and just get breakfast going. You can cry after Dave leaves for work."

  As she opened the cupboard to get out plates and coffee mugs, sh
e spotted the Valentine card she’d bought for Dave weeks ago and had tucked in the corner for safekeeping. Hearing his footsteps in the hallway, she started to close the cupboard and just leave the card there. Instead, she grabbed it and slapped it down on the breakfast table beside Dave’s coffee mug. If he read it fine; if not...

  Well, she could cry about that later, too.

  "Morning," Dave mumbled, coming into the kitchen.

  Sylvia was surprised to see him still in pajamas instead of his suit. Oh no, he must have planned to eat before dressing, and her daydreaming had distracted her. Nothing was ready. She hurried to the refrigerator trying to decide what would be the quickest breakfast to fix. "Let me get eggs and bacon going, and I’ll get you a cup of coffee."

  "I don’t feel like eggs and bacon."

  "What?" Sylvia frowned and turned to look at him.

  "I don’t want eggs and bacon. I think I want waffles this morning," he said, sitting down at the table and stretching his legs in front of him.

  Sylvia held her breath, wondering if he’d notice her card. However he didn’t so much as glance at the card. Instead, he spun the chair around and straddled it. Crossing his arms on the chair back, he rested his chin on them the way he always had when they were dating. Back then, she’d thought he looked cute and sexy at the same time. She bit the inside of her lip. He still looked that way to her.

  "Yeah," he said, nodding his head. "I definitely have a taste for waffles."

  "Dave, I haven’t made waffles in ages. The batter will take forever, and I’m not even sure where the waffle iron is," she protested.

  Her husband shrugged. "It’s probably still wherever you put it when you used it last."

  "I suppose." Confused at such odd behavior on a workday, she went to the closet where she stored her kitchen gadgets that weren’t used very frequently. "I think I put it in here."

  "Let me give you a hand," Dave offered, getting up from the table. "You might have put it on the top shelf and won’t be able to reach it."

  She nodded then opened the pantry door.

  A gasp escaped her lips. Sitting smack in the middle of the shelf where her mixer and bread machine should have been was a large package carefully wrapped in shiny red paper and finished with an elaborate, white satin bow.

  "What’s that?" she asked.

  "Looks like a present," Dave said. He reached past her and picked up the package. He checked the tag on top then held the box out to her. "It says it’s for you."

  Puzzled, Sylvia took the package and carried it to the counter. It was only a little larger than a shoebox but seemed exceptionally heavy for its size. She frowned. "I don’t understand. Did one of the kids—"

  Dave shook his head. "Just open it."

  She nodded then began to carefully peel off the wrapping paper. Dave laughed and grabbed a corner of the paper and gave it a tug, tearing it loose.

  “Dave!” What had gotten into him this morning?

  “It’s only paper, Sylvie. Go ahead and tear into it.”

  She shrugged and pulled the paper free to reveal a plain cardboard box sealed with several layers of packing tape. Using the steak knife Dave handed her from the knife block on the counter, she slit the tape then lifted the flaps. Inside, layers of heart-imprinted tissue covered the object inside.

  "Here, let me hold the box for you."

  He lifted the box from the counter and held it out so she could more easily reach inside it. For a moment, his eyes met hers over the box, and he looked so much like the boy she’d married, it brought tears to her eyes again. Ducking her head to hide them from Dave, she lifted the object from the box. It was square and hard and surprisingly heavy. Surely divorce papers don’t come in a box this big.

  Taking a deep breath, she tore away the tissue covering and found a beautiful, handmade jewelry box with a replica of the Calico Heart carved on its lid. Her hand flew to her mouth and happy tears spilled from her eyes. "Oh, David."

  "Happy Valentine’s Day, Sylvie." Dave grinned, boyishly. "Do you like it?"

  "Like it?" she whispered, running her fingers over the carved top. "I love it! It matches my heart."

  "I always promised I’d make one for you. But I hadn’t seen you wear the heart for years—"

  "The bale broke, so I couldn’t wear it anymore. But..." She paused and pulled the heart from her pocket. "I always keep it with me. Either in my pocket or my purse."

  "I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen it for a while, so I wasn’t sure if you still liked the design or if you’d still want it on a jewelry box. It took a lot longer to finish than I thought. That’s why I was locked up in my workshop so late the last week." He grabbed a napkin and patted at her wet cheeks.

  "Are you okay, honey? If you don’t like it, you can just tell me. I know I’m kind of out of practice..."

  "Oh, David, it’s the best gift I’ve ever received," she assured him.

  "Oh." He frowned and seemed to consider her words. "Then you probably don’t want to look inside."

  She froze. "What do you mean?"

  “Well, if this is the best gift ever...” He paused and winked. "Maybe you should just open it, honey."

  With shaking hands, Sylvia set the beautiful jewelry box on the counter then lifted the lid. The smell of newly sanded wood filled her nostrils. For some reason, she’d always associated that scent with her handyman husband. She gave him a smile then peeked inside the box. The smile froze on her lips.

  A legal-sized envelope lay in the bottom of the box. An envelope with the name of their attorney, Jim Anderson, imprinted in the corner and her name carefully handwritten across the front. Oh no. Surely Dave wouldn’t be so cruel as to serve her with divorce papers this way?

  "What-what is it?"

  "Open it and find out, Sylvie."

  With her heart thudding, she picked up the envelope and lifted the flap. Her hands shook so hard she could barely remove the contents, a single sheet of paper with a photo of a large motor home stapled to it. Puzzled, Sylvia looked at paper and saw it was a bill of sale for the vehicle and made out to her.

  "I bought it for you," Dave said, giving her a tenuous smile. "For us, actually. Jim took care of the title work for me. I was worried we wouldn’t get it in time. We almost didn’t. I just went in and signed the papers last night after work."

  He took her hand and brought them to his lips. "Now that I’ve been promoted I know I can’t get away for long trips except on vacations... but we could take weekend getaways, couldn’t we, Sylvie? That is if you still want me to go with you. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I know I’ve been a stupid fool... Can you ever forgive me?"

  "David Miller, I love you!" Sylvia exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck.

  "I’ll take that as a yes," he said as he pulled her close and kissed her.

  "Definitely a yes," she whispered then gave him another longer, deeper kiss. "I might just have to show you how much this evening."

  "Why not now?" He grinned. "After all, I’m still in my pajamas."

  "Dave, you’ll be late for work!" Her protest turned to giggles as he slipped his hand under the hem of her t-shirt.

  "I took the day off," he murmured against her lips. "It’s Valentine’s Day, and I still remember a much better way to spend it than going to the office."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  "Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad! Love you!"

  "Uh, oh, your mom’s about to cry." Ron laughed, putting his arms around Lynne’s waist as they stood to see her parents off.

  "Of course she is," his wife replied, leaning back against his chest. "She’s happy."

  John watched as his father helped his mother into the passenger seat of the older but still luxurious RV before getting into the driver’s seat. His sister was right; they did look happy. He turned to the others gathered in the driveway of his parents’ home — his brother D2, Lynne and Ron, his mother’s friends Ellen, Sue, Lila, and several others from their quilt group, too. In a voice loud enough for
his mother to hear in the RV, he declared, "Mom always cries."

  "Yep," his brother added just as loudly. "Happy or sad, she always cries."

  "I do not!" Sylvia called back at them. But, as she waved to the family and good friends who’d come to see her and Dave off on their trip, her eyes filled with happy tears. "Well, okay," she conceded. "Maybe I do."

  "I guess I’ll have to put a few more bucks into that mascara budget," Dave teased, reaching across the front console to squeeze Sylvia’s hand.

  "I guess you will, Mr. Vice-President," she replied as he maneuvered the big motor home into the street then switched on the portable GPS. He looked so relaxed and happy behind the wheel. Almost as happy as she felt.

  "You know, Sylvie, I really appreciate your support about this promotion. Thank you for being so understanding."

  "Of course, I understand, honey. You told me it’s what you’ve always wanted but never thought you could do. Just like I always dreamed of traveling."

  "Still, I want you to know how much it means to me. I know you had your heart set on us both retiring."

  "And we still will... just not together... not yet."

  "Are you sure you don’t mind?"

  "Don’t be silly! You said we can travel on your vacations and on long weekends like this one. And do it in luxury, thanks to your new promotion.

  "Look at this place," she said, waving around the inside of the RV. "Microwave, TV, a full-size shower. All the comforts of home."

  "And don’t forget that queen-size bed in the bedroom in back," he said, giving her a meaningful wink and his boyish grin.