The Healing Quilt

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I shall just say that we will get to the bottom of this, knowing that you gentlemen want the best for our female patients as well as the male. Therefore, I move that we form a committee to look into these allegations and determine what we can do in the near future to rectify the situation.” She tapped a two-inch thick file. “I have here an abundance of research materials for those committee members to read. Since this is a project rather near and dear to my heart”—again snorts and chuckles, albeit with slightly guilty expressions—“I volunteer to head up this committee and ask for volunteers.”

  When no hands went up, she cocked her head and let an eyebrow raise. “What, no takers?”

  “You know there is no money in the budget for new equipment.” The hiss came from her right.

  “We're not asking for money but a research committee.” When we need the money, I know where it will come from. But keeping her expression bland, she continued to look around the table.

  “Now then, surely one or two of you could volunteer so this is all done decently and in order.” Jefferson paused. “Although I believe there is a motion on the floor. Is there a second?” He waited.

  “I second and I'll volunteer to assist in the research,” the owner of the larger pharmacy in town added.

  Elaine knew the man's wife had found a lump herself and recovered quickly from a lumpectomy. She was one of the lucky ones.

  “Any discussion?” Jefferson waited, but the fingers on his right hand took up a drill of their own on the edge of the desk. “No, then— Yes, what is it, Harold?”

  “This doesn't commit us to any financial outlay does it?” an older man from the end of the table asked.

  “No, none. Anything else? Good, then all in favor say aye. Any opposed?”

  Elaine glanced around the table, virtually daring any to disagree.

  “The motion passes. If there is anyone else who would like to serve on this committee, please talk with Mrs. Giovanni after the meeting.”

  “Thank you.” Elaine took her seat and clicked off the small tape recorder she had in her jacket pocket. She sat through the remainder of the meeting, enjoying her lunch and refusing to meet the glowering looks Jefferson sent her way. Too bad, sonny, you've taken on the wrong group of peopk. When women get stirred up, look out. And you can bet your manicure, we'll be stirred up. Really stirred up.

  At one point she stopped, as did the others, at the wail of one ambulance followed by another.

  A call came over the PA system. “Dr. Giovanni, to OR 2, stat.”

  Elaine turned in time to see her husband push back his chair and stride from the room without a backward glance.

  Might as well not cook the pork chops, Elaine thought. If it is a bad one, he could be tied up a long time.

  NINE

  “Beth, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Of course, what is it?” Beth looked up from stitching on the quilt block stretched on a hoop in her lap, her smile warm and open.

  Garth pulled up a chair and sat facing her. “First of all, I want you to know how proud I am of the effort you are making to overcome the depression.” He laid a hand on her knee. “Do you know how long it has been since I saw you quilting like this?”

  Too hng, 1 know. “Thank you.” She wove her needle into the fabric and clasped her hands over his. “What is it you need?”

  “I know you don t like to help with the pro-life booth, but we really need another warm body at the festival tomorrow. Two people have backed out, or else I wouldn't ask.”

  Although she tried to focus on her husband's face, Beth could feel herself withdrawing. “Garth, you know I've told you I cannot do that.”

  “I know, but I don't know why, and it isn't as if you would be calling on an abortion clinic or something. Just handing out leaflets. I know you believe in our cause.”

  “Of course, that's not the issue here.” She leaned back in her chair, seeking to put as much space between them as possible, clamping her arms over her chest, locking her elbows with her shaking hands. I can't do this, Garth, can't you understand? I can't. All the while her thoughts raged, she kept shaking her head.

  “Beth, I'm just asking you to smile and hand out leaflets. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” Garth rose to his feet and started pacing. “This makes no sense to me.” He turned and glared at her. “None at all.”

  “You agreed you would never ask me to do this. You agreed, Garth, and now you are going back on your word.” She bit her lip until she tasted the salt of blood, all the while willing, commanding herself not to cry. In spite of her every effort, the tears leaked out. She stood, laid her quilting hoop down in the chair, and headed down the hall to the bathroom where she could lock the door.

  Stripping off her clothes, she turned on the shower and stepped under the pounding water, keeping it as hot as she could stand. Anything to drive out the dark, the dirt, the despair. She heard Garth knock on the door and call her name, but she raised her face to the water, unable to answer.

  God, all these years I thought I was all right, but now… Whan happening? I can't keep going this way. Is there no relief? She slumped against the wall, sobbing until the water ran cold. Shivering, she stepped out onto the mat. With one towel wrapped around her head and another knotted over her chest, she opened the door and crept to their bedroom. The silence in the house roared in her ears.

  Until this evening she'd been looking forward to the celebration, finally feeling somewhat better, and now—now how could she even attend?

  And Garth was angry with her. Of course he was; why wouldn't he be? He'd put up with so much, and now she had let him down again. She pulled her robe off the hook in the closet and shrugged into it, then dried her hair with the towel. After pulling the brush through her still-damp curls, she looked out the window to see if Garth was working in the garden. Digging in the earth seemed to calm him just as placing perfect stitches in a quilt soothed her. Or maybe it just gave her too much time to think.

  So whan the big deal about handing out leaflets? Just act as ifyoure handing out information on composting Come on, youre a big girl. Surely Garth isn't asking anything more than you can handle. Go out there and tell him you'll do it. The thoughts bombarded her like small birds dive-bombing a marauding crow.

  A cup of hot tea, that will help. She made her way to the kitchen and, after pouring water into the teakettle, set it to boil. Since the back door was open, she could hear children shrieking in play in the backyard next door. She braced her arms on the edge of the counter, locking her elbows to hold herself up.

  I'll do it. I can't. I'll do it. I can't. The words sped through her mind like a cyclone. With the shriek of a trapped animal, she clamped her hands over her ears and burst into sobs. Slowly she slid to the floor, cowering against the cabinet. “I can't, I can't, I can't.” Her head pounded in tempo with the words.

  “Beth, darling, Beth.” Garth jerked the shrieking and spluttering teakettle off the burner and knelt to gather her into his arms. “You don't have to help me, Beth. I'm so sorry. I just thought…” He stroked her hair back and cupped her face in his hands. “Please, Bethy, don't cry anymore. Please. Please.”

  She could hear his voice as if he stood at the other end of a football field. She could feel his hands, gentle on her face and shoulders, but it was as if he burned her with every touch.

  “Can I make you a cup of tea?”

  She shook her head. “I just want to go to bed. My head, I have such a headache.” Her stomach roiled and she staggered to her feet, ricocheting off the walls as she headed again for the bathroom, barely making it in time to heave her dinner into the commode. When she felt Garth's strong arms lock around her middle, she leaned into his strength, having none of her own. He ran water in the sink and dipped a washcloth to wipe her face, then half led, half carried her into the bedroom. Pulling back the covers, he laid her on the sheet.

  “Can I get you some aspirin or something?” He knelt by the bedside.

  �
�Please, my prescription in the medicine cabinet.” She forced the request past her raw and burning throat. “And pull the drapes.” The whisper sounded like a scream to ears sensitized by the throbbing pain in her head.

  Garth brought her the pills and a glass of water, helping to brace her so she could drink. When she lay back down, eyes closed, he pulled the drapes and started to leave. “I'll be out in the backyard if you need me.”

  Nodding took more effort than she could summon. She pulled the burgundy star-burst quilt her grandmother had made for their wedding up around her shoulders, curling into its comfort.

  “Beth, Beth—wake up, you were screaming again.” Garth shook her, dragging her back from the precipice.

  She turned into his chest and clung as though he were the only stability on earth. When she could speak without choking, she sucked in a deep breath and let herself go limp on the exhale.

  “Thank you.”

  He rubbed her back, making murmuring noises and kissing away her tears. “Was it a bad dream?”

  “I… I don't remember, but I must have been terrified. My heart is still pounding.” She laid her head on his shoulder and her arm across his chest, burrowing as close as she could. “You are nice and warm. It was cold, so cold.”

  “You're safe, honey, but I think you need to get help. I can count every rib and vertebra. How much weight have you lost?”

  “I don't know.” Because I'm afraid to get on the scale. Like I'm afraid of most everything. I didnt used to be so afraid.

  “Are you reading your Bible every day?”

  “Most of the time.” Sure, it says “be not afraid, “and I'm a cowering idiot. I'm not strong in the Lord. He is casting me out.

  “Did you read the list of verses I gave you?” He stroked her hair with one hand.

  “Yes.” But all they made me do was cry. Garth, God, whoever is Us-tening, I am so tired of crying, of this land of gray nothing where I wander. She drifted off to sleep, clinging like a limpet to a rock to withstand the pounding surf.

  When she awoke the following morning, she could hear the marching bands tuning up in the school yard one block over. She had planned to go to the parade and even to help Garth and the others at the church booth selling raspberry sundaes and soft drinks. She could hardly focus on setting the dial for the burner to make her cup of tea. Tea and toast, the only things that sounded like they would stay down. The drums, please, Lord, turn off the drums. She wasn't sure which were coming from the band and which were in her head.

  Finally huddled in her chair, toast and tea on a plate on her lap, she forced herself to stay awake long enough to eat and drink, then crawled back to bed.

  Garth, you would be better off with a wife who could help you like she should, not with this miserable failure you are married to. One who can't even give you a baby, because… because…

  Tears leaked from her eyes and ran into her ears, but she had no strength to blot them away—or to stop them.

  “Beth, Beth, where are you?”

  She heard his voice, but by the time she'd roused enough to answer, he was coming in the door. “You're still in bed. Didn't you read my note?”

  “No.” She sat up and used both hands to push her hair back from her face. “What note?”

  “The one on the kitchen table. Didn't you even go to the kitchen?”

  “I… I think so. Yes, I had tea and toast for breakfast. I… I just didn't see a note.” She cringed back against her pillows at the look of censure that darkened his face. Not that she could see well in the dimness. “What time is it?”

  “Seven. I asked you to meet me for dinner at six and we'd walk around until the fireworks started. I think everyone in Jefferson City and the surrounding county is there.”

  She finished his sentence, but for you. “I'm sorry.”

  “We can still get some barbecue and watch the fireworks.”

  Even the thought of barbecue beef and ribs made her throw back the covers and head for the bathroom. Dry heaves made her dizzy.

  “Do you think you have the flu or something?”

  “Maybe.” But she knew the difference. “You go on. I'll just stay in bed until this passes.” She crept back into the waiting bed like a mole heading for the safety of his earthen burrow.

  “I hate to leave you like this.”

  “Don't worry. If it is the flu I wouldn't want anyone else to catch it.” She turned over on her side to face the wall. She heard him cross the floor and felt his hand on her shoulder. His kiss tickled the hair around her ear. A few moments later she heard him leave, and she sighed with relief.

  Sometime later, she woke to hear something crying. She sat up, at first thinking it was a baby crying, but listening intensely, she realized it was a kitten or cat.

  She lay back down. At least the headache was gone. And while she felt like a space cadet in weightlessness drill, at least her stomach had settled back down where it belonged.

  The cat continued to cry.

  What if it is hurt? The thought propelled her out of bed, into her robe and slippers, and clear to the kitchen. It sounded like it came from the back door. She flicked on the back porch light and looked out to see a half-grown, orange-and-white tiger cat. At least she thought it might be orange and white, though the dirty, matted fur made her wonder.

  Softly she opened the door, then the screen door and hunched down. The cat darted to the edge of the porch, staring back over its shoulder.

  “Are you hungry, kitty? If I get you some milk, would you like that?” The cat mewed but kept its distance.

  Beth closed the screen door. After getting a saucer from the cupboard, she poured milk into it and returned to the door to set it out on the porch.

  The cat waited until she closed the door before creeping over to sniff and then lap the milk, taking care to keep a wary eye on her.

  “You poor thing,” Beth crooned. “Whatever happened to you? Did you get lost?”

  Pointed ears flicked back and forth at the sound of her voice, but the cat didn't move, other than his twitching tail and furiously lapping tongue, until the saucer was empty.

  “Tuna, I bet you would like some tuna.” Beth retrieved a can of tuna from the cupboard and opened it with the can opener from the drawer. She debated pouring off the spring water but instead opened the door and dumped the entire can onto the saucer. “There, now, how do you like that?”

  The cat had slunk halfway across the porch and still waited until she closed the door before sniffing the offering and settling down to eat.

  “You've had a hard time, huh, kitty? Look, you won't even trust me when I bring food. Where is your home? Did someone dump you?” She heard Garths car in the driveway, the garage door open and close. When he entered the house, he stopped behind her.

  “What is it?”

  “See the kitten?”

  Garth peered over her shoulder. “That mangy cat? It's been hanging around for the last couple of days. I shooed it away.”

  “Oh.” How could you ignore something so pitiful?‘“I fed it.”

  “Oh great, now it'll never go back where it belongs.”

  “What if someone dumped it and it no longer belongs anywhere? You'd let it starve?”

  “Well, no, uh… Beth, when our Sophie died, you said no more cats. Remember?”

  She nodded and her hands crept back to cup her elbows, rolling her shoulders forward. “But we can't let it starve.”

  “I'll call the Humane Society.”

  “No!” The word exploded out her mouth.

  “But you said…”

  “I think I've changed my mind.” If I have any mind lefi to change. “Poor pathetic kitty.” She turned to look into her husband's face. “You think it would sleep in a box if we put a towel in one and set it up by the wall?”

  “Its an ugly cat.”

  “You might look kind of ugly too if you were half-grown, starved, and filthy dirty. Looks like another cat or a dog has beaten up on him too.

&nbs
p; Garth sighed and dropped a kiss on her ear. “I'll get a box.”

  After they'd cut one side of the box down, puffed up an old towel and laid it in the bottom, he held the door open while she stepped outside and set the box against the wall. The cat leaped down the steps but didn't run beyond the circle of light from the porch.

  “You sleep here, and as soon as you feel brave enough, you can come into the house, okay?” Beth shut the screen door behind her and watched for a bit as the cat crept back up the steps and returned to the dish to sniff for any remnants of tuna. He sniffed the box and slunk back off the porch.

  Beth leaned back against Garth's chest. “Just like some people, afraid to take a gift that's offered.”

  Garth yawned. “I have the men's Bible Study at 6:30 in the morning, so let's get to bed. He's survived on his own this far, so what's another night?”

  “How do you know it's a he?”

  “I don't. Never tried to get close enough to find out. But if it's been brawling, you can bet it's a male.” Garth stopped in the bathroom to brush his teeth.

  Beth stood at the bedroom window, looking out at the streetlight. Bugs and moths fluttered around the light, a bat swooped through, winnowing the population. If only she could stay in the light, perhaps the nightmares wouldn't attack.

  TEN

  “Thomas. I'll ask him if he wants to go to the parade.”

  “Woof.” Missy sat at her side, tail brushing the carpet.

  “Sorry, girl, I used the gword, didn't I?” Kit stooped to pat Missy's head and rub her ears. “Not now, but I'll come home later.” Missy leaned into her ministering fingers, adoring gaze announcing full appreciation. Kit rose. “All right, backyard, you, while I load the pies in the car.” She let the dog out, checking to see that the gate to the six-foot cedar fence was locked. Missy had been known to nose it open and go visiting down the street.

  Kit opened the door to the garage and then raised the back of the van. She had left the rear seat out ever since she took Ryan to college, the better to have hauling space. When did she ever drive six people anywhere anymore anyway?