The Healing Quilt

by Lauraine Snelling

  “You can have that when you're done with the first.”

  He nodded again and nibbled on the end of his Popsicle.

  Someone sure taught you good manners. I wonder why you never mention your mother. Kit pulled a couple of tissues from the box on the counter, dug out the puppy treats, and followed her guest back outside. After blowing her nose, she could smell the spicy scent of the Sunset rose floating by. A robin dug in the soil of the dahlia bed, where worms were plentiful and easy to find. Hummingbirds clicked and chased each other from the two feeders she had hung, one from the eaves, the other on a shepherd's crook, a cast-iron hook attached to the edge of the silvered cedar deck. While Kit loved mornings, too, evenings like this were her favorite time of day.

  She leaned back in the chair and watched as Missy caught her treats in midair. The dog danced on snowshoe feet, waiting for Thomas to throw the ball, ready to dart off at his first motion. When he hesitated, Missy bowled him over. Getting run into by Missy was like being hit by a low-slung Rottweiler, solid and below the knees.

  Kit ate her Popsicle, enjoying the evening, the flowers, and mostly the joy shooting out of boy and dog like the sparklers they'd lit at the park on the Fourth. She ignored the voice that said she should be weeding the garden or working on Ryan's quilt or… Her inner mother could always find more to do and scold for wasting time. She even ignored the ringing phone, letting the answering machine pick it up instead. She'd call back later, after dark.

  Flushed with running, and smelling pure boy, Thomas skidded to a stop in front of her. “Can I get your other Popsicle, too?”

  “Yes, that would be very nice of you.” She watched him tell Missy to wait while he went inside, and the dog did just that, staring at the door as if he might not come back if she took her gaze away. But he did.

  “Thanks.” She took the proffered treat and ambled down the two steps to the lawn, deadheading the early marigolds she'd started from seed and pulling a weed or two from the well-mulched flower bed. When she noticed that the streetlights had come on, she turned to call Thomas.

  “Time for you to go home. How about if Missy and I walk with you?” The look he gave her made her smile and add, “I haven't walked yet today and I need to.”

  Sure, then, that she wasn't treating him like a little kid, he nodded. “Come on. Missy, want to go for a walk?” Missy responded with more Tigger-bouncing and woofs of sheer joy. Missy didn't enjoy walking as much as sorting through all the scents she would pick up on the way. Bassets always walked nose to the ground, and that didn't mean a stroll either. She pulled Thomas ahead at a half trot, his laughter floating back to make Kit smile. If this was what grandparenting felt like, she would look forward to babies in the family that would grow into interesting boys and girls.

  “Tell her to heel and make her mind. You know how to do that.”

  His giggle told her he had no intention of stopping the fun as Missy dragged him from one side of the sidewalk to the other, up to and around a tree in one yard, and under the bushes in the next, then back to the fire hydrant by the curb.

  Kit let them walk past his house, glancing up to see if anyone was watching out for him. The drapes were pulled on the front window, and no one had turned on the front light. In fact, she didn't see light in any of the windows. The next block passed in a spray of giggles and Missy's basso profondo discovery of a dog behind a fence. The yapping terrier quieted when the two sniffed noses through the slight gap between fence boards.

  “Come on, Missy.” Thomas jerked on the leash, bringing Missy back to the sidewalk just as Kit caught up with them.

  “Thomas, is no one home at your house?”

  “My sisters there. She's probably watching TV in the family room.”

  Who will make your dinner? When will your father get home? “Won't she be worried when you aren't home yet?”

  “Nah, she said to be home by dark, and it's not all dark yet.”

  “I see.” But without the streetlights, not much longer. “We'll turn back now so she won't worry.”

  “She don't worry.”

  “Oh.” What to say what to think? When they reached Thomas's house, he handed her the leash, knelt down to give Missy one more hug, accepted one more slurpy kiss, then headed up the stairs. “Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome. Thank you for playing with Missy.” Kit walked on past her own house and around three more blocks. Missy might be about worn out, but she wasn't. Later, after she ate her dinner of leftovers, baked a lemon pound cake to serve at the meeting in the morning, flipped through her quilting book to find some patterns to offer as samples, put the dog out, let the dog in, threw a load of clothes in the washer, sorted through the remainder of the mail, locked the doors, and did her evening ablutions, she glanced at the clock and groaned.

  “Oh, nuts, I didn't callTeza. Too late now.” Of course she'd already let Teza know about the meeting, but sometimes her aunt needed a reminder or she'd get busy out in the garden and forget. “Like I forgot to call her.”

  Kit scribbled a note on the pad by the bed, eyed her Bible, and turned off the light. When had she stopped reading her Bible every night? Was it after Amber died or after Mark left? Dates seemed to run together, blurred by all the tears she'd shed. She stared heavenward. “You could have changed all this, kept if from happening. You were the only one who could have, but you sat on your hands and did nothing. Why?” It promised to be another long night of unending questions and no answers.

  THIRTEEN

  “I must have pulled a muscle yesterday.” Teza rubbed the sore area just to the front of her shoulder. “I'll put some liniment on it tonight.” She finished dressing and glanced out the window. Gray. The weatherman had said no rain, and sun by afternoon, so she'd have time to pick cherries. If it rained now, they'd split for sure, and then she'd have to make preserves of all of them.

  Once downstairs, she fixed her first cup of tea and took it to the wicker chair in the bay window where she read her morning devotions whenever it was too chilly to be outside in her rocking chair on the wraparound porch. She read two chapters on her way through reading the Bible from cover to cover again. Then, leaving the Bible open on her lap, she folded her hands, took in a deep breath, exhaled, and recited, “The Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth be silent before him. Be still and know that I am God.” Breathing deeply she imagined Jesus in a meadow and saw herself sitting at his feet. He laid his hand on her head, and she began to praise and thank him for her home, for her small farm that not only kept her busy but provided a steady income through much of the year, for her friends, for air to breathe, for Christ himself and God who loved her, for Kit, for friends, for customers who also became friends, for her flowers, for hands that loved to garden and sew and all the other things she loved doing. From her praises she segued into her prayer list, which she took from within the pages of her Bible and read aloud. After each petition she paused to listen, something she had resolved she would do more often. “Be still and know that I am God.” Chattering to God and then hanging up she'd decided was rude.

  “And, Father, please take care of Mark while he is away on this business trip. Please bring him home safely and continue to work healing in his soul and spirit. Lord, I know your plan is for that marriage to grow stronger with all they've been through with Amber.” She waited and the words trust me, you and Kit must both trust me filled her mind. She nodded, keeping her eyes closed and listening with both inner and outer ears and mind. Trust me. She'd been hearing a lot of that lately.

  Tipping her head back against the high, curved chair, she waited again. “And about Kit, she is carrying such anger at you. I remember when Karl died, I went through the same grieving, but I know it is worse for someone losing a daughter. Teach me how to help her, how to help them before that root of bitterness digs in so deep we need major excavation to dig it out. Lord, you who can do far beyond what we know or think, I thank you for the answers you have already put into action so we can see
them when we need them. You said, ‘Before you call I will answer.’ Thank you and praise you. In Jesus’ precious name I pray, amen.” She kept her eyes closed for a bit longer, enjoying the sense of peace that hovered in the room and her heart, bringing a golden light in spite of the gray outside.

  By the time she opened her eyes the tea had grown cold, but she felt as warm as if she had been sitting in the sunshine. “Thank you, Father.” She stood and stretched both arms over her head and then bent forward until her fingers touched the braided rag rug under her feet. “Not bad for a nearly seventy-year-old woman.”

  She glanced at the chalkboard where she kept her to-do list for the day. So much to get done before that meeting at Kit's. She poured herself a bowl of Raisin Bran, added milk, and took the bowl and spoon to stand at the window so she could look out at her orchard. Bing cherries hung nearly black and heavy on the branches under the netting that kept the birds at bay. A wonderful crop this year; she would have to put out the you-pick sign when she came back from town. She'd never get them all picked without help. She set her watch to remind her to come in at 9:30 and headed to the fruit shed for buckets. There was something about picking fruit that brought her even closer to God, not that all her gardening didn t do much the same, but the Bible mentioned good fruit so often— She stopped her forward motion as though she'd hit an invisible wall. Bear much fruity bear much fruit The ideas tiptoed in, then ran like a dead heat. A quilt with appliquéd fruit on the squares and the fruits of the spirit embroidered above them, verses that fit embroidered all around in the border. Plain blocks of white or another color quilted in stylized fruit designs. She could see the colors, rich and vibrant. The design could be done for a full-sized quilt or a wall hanging, or even a cross-stitch. On the blackboard in the fruit shed, she jotted down her ideas, picked up her buckets, and danced her way out to the orchards, singing, “Oh, Lord, thank you, thank you. What an idea, thank you, I praise you.” Her fingers itched to get started on the quilt, but she set them to picking instead. When her wrist alarm sounded, she set the filled buckets on the flat-bedded wooden wheelbarrow Mark had made for her years earlier, during the days when Karl was so ill, and trundled her produce up to the barn.

  On the drive to town she let her mind roam free with the quilt idea, seeing it done and hanging in the fruit shed along with the other farm-related handicrafts she sold there. She thought of her stash of fabrics at home, trying to think if she had enough fruit prints for the border trim. “Of course, I shall have to do the lining in a fruit patterned fabric.” She thumped on the steering wheel. “Oh, I wish I could get started on it.” She waved at a person who honked behind her when her mind skipped watching traffic lights and played on with the quilt. “That old child's coloring book, I bet that's where I've seen fruit the way I want.” Wondering where she had it packed away, she parked her truck in front of Kit's house and ambled up the walk, sniffing the roses as she went.

  “You know what?” she asked when Kit met her at the front door. “I haven't saved rose petals for potpourri yet. How about saving some of yours for me?”

  “Hello to you too.” Kit stepped back. “Come on in—or should we meet out here on the porch? The sun looks to be coming out soon.”

  “The porch, of course.” Teza hugged her niece. “But don't let my preferences choose for the group.”

  “You're glowing. You must have some good news.”

  “Here, sit down.” Teza pointed toward the cedar glider. “I have the most stupendous quilt design idea ever, and I think it could be made into other products as well.”

  “You need paper and a pencil?”

  “No.” Teza patted the seat beside her. “Just sit.” As soon as Kit took her place, Teza described her idea of the fruit quilt. “Maybe I should call it ‘Good Fruit.’ We can talk about that, but each square could also be a potholder or—”

  “An apron bib or the design on a tea towel,” Kit picked up. “When we get the first one done, we can digitize it and use machine embroidery. You could make up kits for any of the products made, why, I bet you'd need to hire seamstresses to keep up with the demand.” Kit took her aunt's hands in hers. “What a bombshell idea!”

  “Interesting, because I'd had my morning devotions, and I've been asking God to help me listen better. I had my breakfast, and on the way out to the barn, that song about the fruit of the spirit—you know the one—started running through my head, and all of a sudden I saw this glorious quilt, in full color, all finished. I've never had an idea come to me like that.” She thought a brief moment. “Place mats and napkins could come of it, too.”

  Kit leaned forward to give Teza a hug. “I have no idea how you will do all this along with the farming.” She shook her head, but her eyes were dancing. “But I know you enough to know you will.”

  “I think the cherries did it. Oh, I brought you some. I don't think I've had a better year for Bings, so pray for no rain or I'll have a ton of jam.”

  “The pie cherries aren't ripe yet, are they?”

  “No, but the Royal Annes are lovely too. And I still have some raspberries. The ever-bearing strawberries are coming on for another picking. I sure do miss Ryan. He was always such a help, he and Amber both. Well, when I think of it, all three of the kids were. Jenny just didn't like messing around with garden and farm like the other two.”

  “Hey, you two look like you've got all the problems solved,” Sue Gunderson called as she strolled up the walk. A basket over her arm said she'd brought more than ideas to kick around.

  “Tezas got a wonderful idea for a new quilt”—Kit spread her hands apart—“and a whole bunch of ideas to go along with it. Wait until you hear.”

  “I thought we were coming to discuss a cancer quilt.” Sue set her basket down and wiped her forehead. “I do hope we're meeting out here. These hot flashes about do me in. They say exercise helps mitigate them, but just now walking in from the car and the thing blindsided me.”

  “This too shall pass?” Teza raised her eyebrows and tipped her head slightly to the side, her smile bringing forth one in return.

  “I know. There's no sense griping about it, but I have to learn to bring along a fan. I saw a bitty little thing that can fit in your pocket and runs on a battery. Think I'll buy one before it gets too hot.”

  “I used to carry one of those folding ones along with me. Ill look around the house and see if I still have it.”

  “Oh, you'll have it somewhere. You never throw anything away.” Kit stood. “I'll go get some more chairs and bring the coffee carafe out here.”

  The other two dutifully followed her in, so she put them to work bringing the chairs in from the back deck and setting out a tray. By the time the others arrived, the wicker table had a cloth over it, the tray in place, and chairs around it.

  “Oh, this looks just like a picture out of Martha Stewart,” Harriet Spooner gushed as she sat down in the cedar rocker with peony-flowered cushions. “Everyone, I brought Beth Donnelly along with me. She's our new pastor's wife and she said she likes to quilt, though I know she wasn't too impressed with the WECARE meeting. She did meet Teza there after the meeting was over.”

  “Welcome.” Kit motioned to a chair. “Glad you could join us.”

  Beth smiled. “Thank you.”

  “This is Sue Gunderson. Her quilt won Grand Champion at the county fair last year, and she's just like Kit. You two are so creative you put me to shame.”

  “Thanks, Harriet, but I've seen your yard.” Kit picked up her clipboard so she could sit down. “Several others called to say they couldn't make it. If you'd all like to get some coffee and a piece of pound cake, we can begin right away so you can get back to all the things I know you have planned for today.”

  As the women helped themselves, Teza caught her eye. “Don't say any more about the fruit quilt,” she whispered. “I want this meeting to concentrate on the other one.”

  “Well, look who's here,” Kit whispered to Teza before she stood to welcome their new
est guest.

  “I'll be,” Sue murmured and leaned back in the glider.

  “Elaine, good of you to come.”

  “Thank you. I heard about this meeting at the Fourth of July celebration, and while I know I should have called…” She put out her hand and shook Kit's.

  “No, not at all. Everyone is welcome.” Kit motioned to the group. “I'll let everyone introduce themselves. Ladies, this is Elaine Giovanni, head of the women's auxiliary and our token woman on the hospital board.”

  Elaine stopped at the top of the steps. “Your landscaping is just lovely. What do you do to get your roses to bloom so abundantly?”

  “I took Harriet's advice”—she motioned to Harriet Spooner— “and sprinkled alfalfa clippings under them. That and lots of compost.”

  “It most certainly worked.” Elaine took the remaining chair and set her briefcase on the floor beside it, then turned to the others.

  When the introductions were finished, Kit nodded. “All right, ladies, I thought I'd tell you a bit about the background of our idea.” She told them about the newspaper article, talking to Marcy at the hospital, and where the quilt idea came from. “So, while I know we can't earn enough for the mammogram unit, we can do a lot toward encouraging community support by kicking offa campaign. Any questions?”

  “Are they sure that article was correct about the high wires? I thought the utility company put all those old fears to rest before they strung those.” Sue fanned herself with a napkin.

  “I brought that issue and others up at the hospital board meeting last week, but if you do your research, you'll find there are at least two sides on that issue. As far as I can see, the truth is that the lines can cause cancer.” Elaine pulled a portfolio out of her briefcase. “If any of you want to read my findings, you are welcome to do that.”

  Harriet Spooner reached for the file. “Thanks, I'd like that.”