Ties That Bind

by Marie Bostwick

  “I know, but I really do have to leave.” She looked at the Tuckers. “Bob and Sharon are going to drive me to the hospital. My water broke.”

  61

  Philippa

  My parents must have made the drive from Boston to New Bern in record time. I wasn’t even out of the recovery room and was still a bit groggy from the anesthesia when they showed up. Dad came in beaming and carrying the tiniest Red Sox baseball cap I have ever seen, and Mom was right behind him, weeping and laughing at the same time.

  “How did you get in? There aren’t supposed to be any visitors in here.”

  “I flashed the nurse my collar and a smile and she let us right in,” Dad said with a wink. “What did I tell you? Works every time.”

  “Did you see the baby?”

  “We did!” Mom exclaimed, trying to hug me without disturbing the intravenous tube that was taped to my arm. “The nurse let us peek in the nursery window. He’s beautiful! Tiny but so beautiful! Did they let you see him?”

  “They laid him on my chest for a minute, then they took him off to the NICU, the neonatal intensive care unit. He’s only thirty-three weeks gestation, so they need to keep an eye on him. But he was crying pretty well when he was born and he had a good head of hair, curly, like mine.”

  “Well, he looks pretty good for homemade, honey. Good work. I think he has Tim’s nose,” Dad said, settling on the edge of my bed and laying the tiny baseball cap on top of the blanket. “Here. You’re going to need this. Because I’m sure he’ll have Tim’s pitching arm too.”

  “And if he doesn’t, I bet you’ll take him out in the yard to play catch until he develops one.” I picked up the cap. It was so small my fist would barely fit inside, but it was still too large for my newborn son.

  “What did the doctor say?” Mom asked anxiously. “Did they tell you when you can bring him home?”

  Just then, Dr. Mandel walked in carrying her clipboard and wearing a frown. “How did you two get in here?”

  Dad got up, unfolding himself to his full height, and smiled his most charming smile. “I’m Reverend Philip Clarkson and this is my wife, Joyce. We’re Philippa’s parents.”

  Dr. Mandel narrowed her eyes, looking from short dark me to my tall blond parents for just a moment before figuring out the nature of our family connection. “Nice to meet you. I know you’re anxious to check on your daughter, but you really can’t stay. Philippa needs rest and the nurses need to do their jobs. She’ll be transferred to a regular room in a couple of hours. In the meantime, perhaps you can go down to the waiting room with the rest of the crowd.”

  “Crowd?”

  “Oh, yes,” Mom said with a laugh. “There’s a whole gang of people waiting to see you. Bob and Sharon Tucker are there, and all your friends from the quilt shop, and some people from church, and a man with an Irish accent who keeps passing around trays of food. It’s like a party. Such nice people. One of your friends, Madelyn, insisted we stay at her inn free of charge. And she said to tell you she has a room for you too, for as long as you need it. Until the baby can leave the hospital.”

  Mom turned to the doctor. “When will that be?”

  “The pediatrician will be the one to make that call, but I was just in the nursery and Dr. Markowski said he looked good for thirty-three weeks. His weight is good too, four pounds and six ounces. Barring any complications, I’d guess you’ll have him home in three or four weeks.”

  Three or four weeks? It sounded like an eternity. I felt myself tear up. Dr. Mandel clucked her tongue with motherly sympathy and patted my hand.

  “Now, now. It’s not so long. You’ll be able to visit him every day for as long as you want. We encourage that. And as soon as he’s breathing reliably, you’ll be able to hold him. The important thing to remember is that he’s here and he’s healthy, just a little small.”

  “That’s right,” my mother echoed soothingly, patting my other hand. “Listen to the doctor. She knows what she’s talking about.”

  “I do,” the doctor replied and then looked at my parents with arched eyebrows, “so I’m tossing you two out of here. Go on, Grandma and Grandpa. Down to the waiting room with the rest of the fan club.”

  As if to underscore her meaning and her authority, Dr. Mandel stood by the door and opened it wider. My parents didn’t give her any argument. I think they were so thrilled to hear themselves called grandparents that they’d have done anything she asked.

  Mom gave me another teary hug. “See you soon, sweetheart.”

  Dad stood next to the bed. “Oh, I almost forgot! What did you name him? Your friend, Margot, wanted me to ask you.”

  I smiled and took a deep breath. “Timothy Philip Waldo Clarkson.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot of name for one little baby. But I’m sure he’ll live up to it.”

  “I hope so. I named him after the best men I’ve ever known.”

  Dad leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m very proud of you, Pippa. And I love you. Very, very much.”

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  “Your parents seem nice,” Dr. Mandel said after she finished listening to my heart.

  “They are. I’m very lucky.”

  The doctor absently nodded as she made a note on my chart. “I know you’re tired and sore, Philippa, but I need to give you a quick exam. After that you can sleep.”

  She walked to the sink and started to turn on the water but stopped when she looked down at the counter and saw a flat package wrapped in white paper that had been lying under her clipboard. “Oh, before I forget, I’m supposed to give you this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Open it,” she said with a smile. “It’s a present. Something they give to all the preemies.”

  I knew what it was the moment she said that, but knowing did nothing to lessen my delight when I tore away the paper and saw the tiny flannel quilt, stitched from pastel patches and tied with yellow yarn, especially when I turned it over, revealing the soft blue backing and a white label that said, A gift to you from New Bern Community Church and Olivia Matthews.

  “Pretty,” the doctor commented, nodding at the quilt as she pulled the sheet down and my hospital gown up. “All right, Philippa, this won’t take a moment. Just close your eyes and think lovely thoughts, dear. Think about holding your baby.”

  Following my instincts and my doctor’s orders, I thought about leaving this place and bringing baby Timmy home, wrapped in flannel and love, and holding him in my arms.

  With my eyes closed and my heart filled, I dreamed of that day, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that ….

  62

  Margot

  It was a bit after eight when we finally left the hospital. Olivia fell asleep in the car on the way home, so tired I could hardly rouse her.

  “It’s all right,” Paul said, picking her up in his arms. “Let her sleep.”

  When we got inside, Mom went into the kitchen to make popcorn, and Dad and James started searching for a board game—Dad said he’d play any game James wanted, except Rummikub—while Paul and I climbed the stairs to put Olivia to bed.

  While Paul closed the louvers on the shutters, I took off Olivia’s grass-stained dress and tossed it into the laundry hamper. “Oh, shoot. Olivia’s quilt is still in the washer. She gave her dolls a tea party yesterday—grape juice and chocolate mini doughnuts.”

  Paul smiled. “I thought boys were supposed to be the grimy ones. Olivia generates more loads of laundry than James ever did.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said, slipping a clean cotton nightgown over Olivia’s head. “Honey, can you get me another quilt out of the linen closet?”

  While Paul went to the linen closet, I tucked Olivia between the sheets and knelt down next to the bed, holding my sleeping niece’s tiny hand in mine.

  “I hear no voice, I feel no touch, I see no glory bright. But yet I know that God is near, in darkness as in light. He watches ever by my side, and hears
my whispered prayer. The Father for his little child, both day and night doth care. Amen.”

  Olivia squeezed my hand. “Amen,” she said with a yawn and then rolled to her side, tucking her knees to her stomach and her hands under her chin.

  Paul came back, carrying a very large quilt.

  “Oh, honey, isn’t there something smaller? A twin size?”

  “There is, but I saw this one tucked up on the top shelf and pulled it down. It’s gorgeous,” he said, lifting the quilt by the corners and shaking it out to reveal its black cameo appliquéd with flowers and leaves and dewdrops and butterflies, surrounded by a band of yellow and border upon border in blue and teal and purple, butterscotch and honey and goldenrod. “Why haven’t you shown this to me before? Did you make it?”

  “It was a Christmas present for Mari. But I never got to give it to her.”

  I reached out to touch the most beautiful quilt I’d ever made, traced a butterfly with my finger. The fabric was soft, but not as soft as it would be with years of use and life and love, the way it was meant to be.

  “It’s too big,” I said, looking down at Olivia’s sleeping frame, curled up tight and safe in her narrow bed. “But maybe just for tonight …”

  I took one side of the quilt and Paul took the other as we spread it over Olivia and tucked her in.

  “And when we’re married,” Paul said, “we’ll put it on our bed.”

  “Really?” I asked, pleased that he’d even suggest it. “Are you sure, honey? It’s kind of … girly, isn’t it?”

  He walked around the foot of the bed, brushed the hair from my face, and kissed me on the lips.

  “It’s beautiful. And filled with memories. And made,” he said, pressing my hand to his lips, “by the person I love more than anyone else in the world. It’s perfect.”

  “Oh, Paul.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I love you. I love you so much.”

  In the dark room, illuminated only by the glow of Olivia’s cloud-shaped night-light, silent except for the sound of her soft rhythmic breathing, we kissed and clung to each other. But not for long.

  James’s voice rang out from the bottom of the stairwell. “Margot! Dad! Are you coming down? The board is set up and the popcorn is getting cold!”

  Paul sighed. “Are you sure you want to be a mother?”

  “And your wife,” I said with a smile. “Absolutely.”

  He draped his arm over my shoulders as we walked to the door. “Well, then … I guess we’d better go on down. Our family is waiting.”

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  TIES THAT BIND

  Marie Bostwick

  ABOUT THIS GUIDE

  The following questions are intended to enhance your group’s reading of TIES THAT BIND.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  The story opens on Margot’s fortieth birthday—an occasion she’d just as soon ignore. What about you? Do you like celebrating birthdays, or do you prefer to let them slip by unnoticed? What do you enjoy about getting older? What aspects of aging do you dislike or perhaps even fear?

  We all know that there’s no such thing as a perfect family, and Margot’s is no exception. To the extent that you feel comfortable doing so, share some insights about your family. What did your parents do right? What do you wish they’d done differently? If you’re a parent, how did your childhood experiences shape the way you raised or are raising your children?

  Margot and her sister, Mari, were close as children, but when they got older, they became estranged. What changed their relationship? Was there anything they could or should have done to help heal it? If you have siblings, do you have a close relationship with them? Why or why not? If you’re an only child, have you ever wished you had siblings? What do you imagine the benefits or strains of having brothers or sisters might be?

  After Reverend Tucker becomes ill, the church board hires Reverend Clarkson to fill in for him while he recovers, not realizing that “he” is actually a “she” until Philippa arrives in New Bern. Some of the characters seem bothered that their new minister is a woman, while others feel her sex is immaterial to her ability to serve as their minister. What do you think accounts for the difference in their attitudes? If you attend a church, does your denomination allow women to serve as clergy? Do you think that this is a good idea or not? If you belong to a denomination that doesn’t ordain female ministers, do you think they should?

  Philippa had a number of careers before finally responding to the call to ministry. Why do you think it took her so long to do so? Have you ever changed career paths? Tell the group about your experiences. What was difficult about it? What was easier than you thought it would be? If you could do it over again, would you? And if you’ve never changed careers, do you wish you could?

  People deal with grief and loss in very different ways. Margot, her parents, her niece, and Philippa have each undergone a terrible loss at some point in their lives. How did their responses to grief differ? How were they similar? What does the manner in which they respond to loss say about their personalities? If you have ever grieved the loss of someone close to you, how did you get through it? Or are you dealing with it still? What are some of the things that people did or said that were helpful or harmful as you were grieving?

  Margot has had many male friends in her lifetime, yet those friendships never seem to blossom into romance. Why do you suppose that is? Do you think that all those men were truly uninterested in Margot romantically? Could she have been sending out unconscious signals that she wasn’t interested in them?

  Margot often says that she’s given up looking for “Mr. Right” and would happily settle for “Mr. Good Enough,” but do you think that’s true? How might Margot’s views about sex outside of marriage have affected her relationships with men? In our modern culture, is it realistic for a woman to wait until marriage before she experiences sexual intimacy?

  Philippa and Margot both want children but, for different reasons, face obstacles to realizing that dream. Have you, or has someone you know, been faced with issues of infertility? What about life as a single parent? Do you think it is important for children to be raised in a two-parent home? What are the particular challenges of raising a child alone? Can you think of strategies that would make the job of being a single parent easier?

  In talking about the attitude of the church congregation in New Bern, the book makes mention of “the 10–90 rule,” meaning that 10 percent of the people do 90 percent of the work. If you belong to a church or volunteer organization in your community, have you found this rule to be true? If you volunteer in your church or community, what are some of the benefits you’ve gained from that experience? What do you enjoy most about volunteer work? What do you like the least?

  Geoff Bench’s intentions toward Margot are less than honorable. Margot feels uncomfortable around him from the first, but dismisses her own feelings and ignores her instincts. Why is that? Do you think this is a common reaction among women? Have you ever been in a similar situation? How did you respond? Did you trust your instincts, or try to ignore them? What do you think is the best way to confront someone you believe may be trying to harass you or make unwanted advances, especially if the harassment isn’t blatant?

  When Margot first meets Paul, she could not find him less appealing. However, as the story progresses, her feelings toward him move from disinterest to friendship to true love. Do you think this is the usual way for romantic attachments to develop? Or do you believe in love at first sight? What about your story? If you’re married or in a meaningful romantic relationship, how did you come to know that this was the one for you? Did love hit you like a thunderbolt? Or was it a slow burn? Do you think one is better than the other?

  Dear Reading Friend,

  It’s hard to believe that this is our fifth trip to the fictional village of New Bern! When I was working on the first Cobbled Court Quilts novel, A Single Thread, I never imagined that such a thing could happen. And without your support, I know it n
ever would have. Thank you so much.

  The wonderful letters and e-mails I receive from readers are so encouraging. Your enthusiasm for this series keeps me going and fills me with the desire to make each book better than the last. I read every message personally, and everyone who writes receives a response. If you’d like to write to me, you can do so by going to my website, www.mariebostwick.com, and sending an e-mail via the contact form, or by mailing a letter to …

  Marie Bostwick

  P.O. Box 488

  Thomaston, CT 06787

  The friendship of my readers is such a gift. Sometimes I wish I could reach through the pages of the books and give you a gift right back. That’s why, with the publication of nearly every Cobbled Court Quilts novel, I’ve offered a free downloadable quilt pattern to my registered Reading Friends.

  My dear friend Deb Tucker, of Studio 180 Design, has come up with a fabulous project to celebrate the release of Ties That Bind, a darling baby quilt reminiscent of the quilt that Philippa makes in the story. As a new grandma myself, I can tell you this is a pattern I hope to make many times in the years ahead. (If you’re reading this, kids, that was a hint.)

  If you’re already a registered Reading Friend, you can get this pattern (or any of the three others that are available) by logging in at www.mariebostwick.com. If you’re not yet registered on my website, you can do so by clicking on the “Become a Reading Friend” box and submitting your registration information, which I will not share with anyone. Once you’re registered, in addition to the free patterns, you’ll be entered in the monthly readers’ drawing, be able to post on my online forum, and have access to recipes and special content. The pattern is available only as a computer download and only to registered Reading Friends for their personal use.

  In addition to the baby quilt, Deb Tucker has created a full-sized printed pattern of the quilt Margot made for her sister, and has made it available for purchase from her website, www.studio180design.net. I’ve loved all the companion patterns that Deb designed for my books—including Liza’s “Star-Crossed Love” quilt and the “Providence” wall hanging that Tessa made and Madelyn embellished—but this quilt, “Garden Dance,” is my favorite so far. When Deb sent me a photograph of the initial design, I smiled for the rest of the day. It’s that beautiful. But don’t take my word for it; go over to www.studio180design.net and see for yourself.