The Healing Quilt

by Lauraine Snelling

  “You would be carrying on a family tradition.” She gave him her warmest smile. “I have some information I've been collecting if you would like it. Other places have undertaken similar ventures. I thought to look into that eye clinic in Chehalis. They're the Nordstrom of corneal transplants, first-class service all the way, make their patients feel like royalty, really a class act.”

  “We could be like that.”

  The faraway look in his eyes gave her a secret smile. No doubt about it, he had caught the dream. Now to see what he would make of it.

  She sat back and crossed her ankles, sipping her iced tea and dreaming dreams of her own. How to get even with Mrs. Bootsie.

  TWENTY-NLNE

  “You would not believe what is going on at my house.” Elaine dumped her bag on a chair.

  Teza looked up from tightening one of the corner clamps on the quilting frame. “No, what?”

  “Well, I have a little fawn-and-white Chihuahua named Doodlebug, you know, a little dog.” Elaine held her hands for both height and length, neither large. “Our neighbor—she makes it her lifetime aim to keep friction going—has a fat, white English bulldog named Bootsie that looks amazingly like Mrs. Smyth-with-a-Y and insists on messing in our yard. The dog, not the woman.”

  Chuckles set the others to sharing glances.

  “Anyway, Monday my dog charged out the door as I was coming in, chased said dog out of our yard and, in the altercation, bit him. Drew blood. So now this charming candidate for the least-liked woman in the world, or at least the county, is suing me. And its not the first time…” Elaine waved her hands in the air. “I'm not telling you this story to create laughter, so could you just listen without howling.”

  Kit and Teza glanced at each other and broke out again. Beth held her stomach, and Elsie Mae leaned against the wall, wiping her eyes.

  “D-Doodlebug is how big?” Beth tried to keep a straight face.

  Elaine showed the size again.

  “And the neighbor dog, what's its name?”

  “Bootsie.”

  “Bootsie. I see.” She nodded, eyes wide. “And Bootsie is how big?”

  Elaine held her hand about two feet off the floor. “Like that.” And spread her hands about a bit more than a foot apart. “And that wide.”

  “And the bitty Doodlebug.

  “He thinks he's a Rottweiler.”

  “Uh-huh. Chased B-Bootsie out of your yard, even drew blood. Did your neighbor see all this?”

  “No, but she and everyone else within three blocks heard it. Boot-sie screamed like he'd been maimed and then charged home. Of course leaving his mess behind.” Elaine made digging motions with her fingers. “And Doodlebug stood there, digging grass clippings and kicking them behind. You know how dogs do. Big studly dog.” Her eyebrows headed for her hairline. “Doing his best imitation of a big dog's bark and or growl. Bootsie could have eaten him with one gulp.”

  “You could take this on a comedy show. You know, funniest home movies, that kind ofthing.” Elsie Mae sank down on the sofa, wiping her eyes. “I can just see it all. And I s'pose you were yellin at the other dog and callin’ to Doodlebug. And she was screaming. Good thing you weren't turned in for disturbing the peace.”

  “There's no peace where that woman is concerned. None.” A chopping motion followed the words.

  “So what are you going to do?” Kit shook her head. “What a mess.”

  “Yeah, right. Big mess, big stinky mess, that's what he's been leaving in our yard for the last ten years.”

  Beth looked around at the others. “What can she do?”

  “Put up a fence? It wouldn't have to be high to keep a fat dog like that from jumping over.”

  “Restrictions from the homeowners association. No fences beyond the front corners of the houses. We thought to do that, even filed a special petition.”

  “She actually filed a suit against you?”

  Elaine nodded. “She's an ambulance-chasing-attorney's dream. Her regular attorney wouldn't even take this one. He doesn't have to bother. He's gotten rich on all her other cases.” Elaine dug her sewing kit out of her bag. “Well, since you already have the frame set up, we might as well get to this. If you think of any solutions, let me know.”

  “Well, the Bible says heap burning coals of kindness on your enemy's head.” Teza threaded her needle.

  “I'd heap burning coals all right, but the law might get upset.”

  “No, of kindness.” Beth pulled a chair over to the frame.

  “We have always tried to be good neighbors. Back in the early days we invited them for barbecue, included them in the neighborhood gatherings, sent over Christmas presents, you know, all the friendly stuff.” Elaine shook her head and kept on shaking it. “Not anymore. But getting even sounds like a wonderful idea. I'm just not sure how—yet.”

  “So it isn't just Bootsie.” Kit sat down, threaded needle in hand. “By the way, Sue can't make it today.”

  Elaine watched as Kit tied a knot in the end of her thread. “That's different. Can you show me how?”

  Kit demonstrated wrapping the thread around the needle and pulling it all through. “Makes a strong, but nearly invisible, knot.”

  “Hmm.” Elaine made it on the second attempt. “Thanks.”

  “Now, if only Bootsie”—Kit bit back a giggle—“were so easy.”

  “On a different subject, Beth, how are things at your house?”

  “I have a stray cat that is beginning to come around. We've been feeding him for weeks, but he's still easily spooked.” Beth kept her eyes on her needle. And I nearly fell apart again this morning I thought the pitts and this quilting were really helping, but getting out of bed was more than I could manage.

  “You've seemed happier lately,” Kit said.

  “Have I? Good. Being with all of you helps.”

  “I've missed out on something.” Elaine stopped stitching. “What's happened?”

  The silence stretched until Kit said, after getting a nod from Beth, “Beth lost a baby a few months before coming here.”

  “Oh, you sweet thing. I lost my first one too. That's so hard to take.” Elaine reached over and gave Beth a hug. “Any time you need to talk, why, I've got a ready ear.”

  “Thank you. Thank you to all of you.”

  “Hows that hubby of yours taking it?”

  “H-He thinks I should be over it by now. After all, the baby never lived…”

  “And this is the pro-life man? Of course that baby lived, inside of you right where it belonged.”

  “I know, but I mean.

  “We know what you mean, dearie.” Elsie Mae reached across the quilt and patted Beth's hand. “No wonder your eyes have been so sad, haunted almost.”

  Oh, if you only knew. If I could tell you, maybe… But Beth pasted a smile on lips that wanted to quiver and turned to Teza. “What kind of fruit do you have out at your farm now?”

  “A few apricots left on the trees, peaches are in full swing, cucumbers and beans in the garden, beets and carrots are ready too.” Teza stopped. “Oh, and corn. I almost forgot that. Kit, I tucked a couple of cobs in your refrigerator for dinner.”

  “She grows the sweetest corn you'll find anywhere.” Kit turned when Missy whimpered. “Coming, girl.” She got up to let the dog out but stopped. “And she never picks it until you get there. Best corn in the world.”

  “You and Garth can come on out again and see for yourself I really enjoyed meeting him.”

  “You could visit our church sometime. Garth is starting a new series of Bible studies about living in faith.” Which would be helpful if his wife could do that. “They were really popular at our other church.”

  “We could come visit, couldn't we?” Teza looked to Kit.

  “Sure, where?”

  “Beth's church?” Teza raised an eyebrow.

  “I guess. Elsie Mae, how many children do you have?”

  “Four. Two boys and two girls. One is married, so I have a grand-baby too.
Best thing that ever happened. Like they say, if I'd known how much fun grandbabies were, I'd have had them first.”

  When they broke for lunch, Kit set out the food they'd brought and refilled the coffee maker. “Come and eat.”

  “How about if we say grace first?” Teza asked.

  “Ah, fine. Go ahead.” Kit set down the plates and bowed her head.

  “Father, we thank you for the day, for our time together, for the women you will bless through our making this quilt, and for the food you have provided for us. In Jesus’ precious name, amen.”

  “Thank you, that was right nice.” Elsie Mae patted Teza shoulder. “Is this the sore one?”

  Teza nodded, so Elsie Mae began rubbing the shoulder.

  “Ah, that feels so good. Thank you.” Teza leaned her head over to the other side to give more space to the seeking hands.

  When they returned to their stitching, Elsie Mae asked Teza, “Forgive me for being forward, but why are you hesitating about the treatment?”

  Kit held her breath and just kept on stitching. In and out, rock the needle in, pull the thread taut and in again, all the while being careful that the layers did not slip.

  The silence, other than pulling thread, wore an intensity, as if every ear strove to hear beyond the words. To hear the heart within.

  Teza cleared her throat. “I've been through this before”—the silence grew heavy, pushing them down into the quilt—“and it came back.” Teza straightened and stretched, but instead of returning to the basting, she stared out the window.

  Kit fought the constriction in her throat. Teza, please. God, please. Someone help.

  “What are you afraid of, darlin ?” The words shimmering like dust motes in a sunbeam, the rasp of thread through cotton screaming in pain. The fragrance of lavender embroidered on shifting air currents that carried it in and through and on.

  Teza sighed, a sound dredged from the far recesses of her heart, and, gathering all the forgotten pains that lingered there, released them to float with the lavender like incense before the throne of God. “I didn't know I was afraid. Am afraid. I think— I thought I was being wise and waiting for God to tell me what to do. Using my mind to make good decisions. That may still be right, but you asked, what am I afraid of.” She crossed her arms and rubbed her elbows as if she were cold. “I'm not afraid of dying, for then I shall be with my Lord.”

  Kit drew a tissue from her pocket and turned away to blow her nose.

  “I don't want to leave the ones I love, but that is not fear. When I look back on the time before, I came so close to breaking, my faith, I mean. I never want to turn my back on my Jesus, for then I cannot see him, and if he is not there, then I am lost.” She dug in her pocket but came up empty.

  Kit took her a tissue and pressed it into her hands.

  Lost, dear Teza? And if you fear being lost, what about me? I've railed at him and shoved him away, raged and cried and yet…

  “But he said, I will never leave you nor forsake you/ ” Elsie Mae whispered.

  “I know. That's what I've hung on to all my life. I believe, Lord, help thou my unbelief/’ Teza blew her nose. “So to really answer your question, I guess I am afraid of the pain, for that is what closes my inner eyes and tears me apart.”

  “But there are ways to help with the pain. Have you heard of Healing Touch?”

  “No, only his.”

  “Well, this is from him. People, especially nurses like me, are being trained in how to help cancer patients deal with the pain, especially breast cancer pain. You and I will go through this together.

  “So I will not be alone?”

  “Not that you ever are.”

  “I know, but sometimes I felt so alone. When you wander in that land of drugs and pain and your mind isn't working right and your body is not functioning like it should, you try to hang on to Gods hand, but your grasp slips and.

  “And he hangs on to you.”

  And me? Has he been hanging on to me all this time, and I thought I'd run far enough he couldn't catch me? Kit heard a whisper, or was it only in her head? See, I told you so. I promised, and I never go back on my word. I forgive you. Kit pushed the needle through to the edge of the fabric and pulled the thread through its eye so only a tail hung free. But have 1 forgiven you? No, yes, who am I to forgive you? Tears streaming so she was nearly blinded, she headed for the back deck. The sun had broken through the clouds sometime during the afternoon and now glittered in the droplets left from the shower. She sank down into the Adirondack chair and put her feet up on the matching foot bench.

  Forgiveness. To forgive is to forget, is it not? How do I forget? You say as far as the east is from the west is how far you put my sin away. You remember it no more. I cannot do that. Do I want to do that? How should I know? The thought of this is too big for me. And here I am out here by myself when I should be in there with Teza. She tried to get up, but the weight pressing her down was too heavy.

  Lord, I am tired of fighting. I give up. Kit blew her nose again and laid her hands in her lap. Missy whined at the door. A hummingbird roared by her, clicking his way to the feeder, darting after the jeweled adversary who dared to impinge on his territory. Am I like that hummingbird, carrying on when I could be sitting at the feeder, sipping and sharing with enough for each of us? And without fail, you would refill the feeder? Not forgetting like I sometimes do. Lassitude stole over her, as if all her energy drained out her feet and slipped through the cracks in the deck, never to be seen again. Since she had not the strength to keep them open, her eyelids closed and she drifted on a stream of love.

  She opened her eyes to see Teza sitting in the other chair, not sure how much time had passed.

  “Where are the others?”

  “Gone home.”

  “Sorry I left.”

  “That's all right.”

  “Are you— I mean did you…?” Did you what, youre not making much sense. Kit took a deep breath. And stopped. She inhaled another. Is this what freedom feeL like?

  She looked over to see Teza sleeping in the other chair. Her hand lay open in her lap, slightly cupped, innocent as a child's hand waiting to be filled. What had really happened here? Had she imagined it all? Or what? Kit breathed in again, a breath that seemed to pop open little pockets, letting the breath go into dark places that hadn't felt the breath of life for too long a time.

  THIRTY

  The calendar never lies.

  Time is up, Teza. Today the week is over.

  Oh sure, thaù a great way to greet someone. But then maybe than why she called me to come out, to tell me what she decided. Kit glanced down at the file folders she'd been filling with information. One thing for sure, there were no guarantees with anything. And while breast cancer treatments had experienced some progress since her mother died, there'd been more advancements in automobile engines. She'd read that in an editorial in some big newspaper. What an indictment!

  She wheeled the van into Tezas yard and parked by the arbor leading to the house. Gathering up her research, she stepped out and paused to enjoy the red blossoms of Paul Scarlet roses rioting over the arbor.

  “Out here.”

  Kit turned and looked toward the garden at Tezas call. “What are you picking now?”

  “Cucumbers. I have someone coming for fifty pounds any minute. You want to help?”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Kit knew she was muttering, but she also knew it would do no good. Obviously cucumbers came before cancer. She made her way to the cucumber rows and grabbed a white plastic bucket.

  “You want the gherkin-size picked too?”

  “No, leave them for later. I don't have time for gherkins, and no one has requested them. I'll sort the big ones out for relish.”

  Kit had just filled her bucket when she heard a car drive in.

  “Perfect timing.” Teza tossed the last cuke from her row into the bucket and stood to wave to her customer. “Be there in a minute.” She smiled at Kit. “If she doesn't want
all of these, you can take the rest.”

  “I'm not doing pickles this year.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have plenty left. With no one but me at home, we don't go through so many.”

  “Okay, then I'll make them up for the stand. I never can have too many pickles to sell.”

  Kit sighed. There was no stopping her, so why try? “You want me to pick more?”

  “No, you go on up and pour the iced tea. I made biscuits this morning, so I thought we could have those. You haven't had lunch, have you?”

  “Is it lunchtime already?”

  “Past.” They lugged the five-gallon buckets over to the stand, and Kit helped weigh them.

  “No, don't sort them. I'll take them all,” the customer said. “I use the big ones for relish.” They set the boxes of cucumbers in her trunk and waved her off.

  “Well, that's good. Neither one of us has to worry about pickles tonight.” Teza dusted off her hands and linked her arm through Kit's. “Let's go for that iced tea. I'm thirsty as a dog in the desert.”

  Kit headed for the bathroom to wash her hands while Teza took over the kitchen sink.

  “You want your biscuits warmed?” Teza called.

  “Of course. Biscuits should always be warm.” Kit dried her hands on the guest towel and made a face at the one in the mirror. She'd left her files out in the car. “Be right back.”

  When she returned, the glasses were filled, and Teza was putting the biscuits in a cloth-lined basket.

  After they sat down at the table, Teza drank some of her tea, then they both buttered and jammed their biscuits.

  “I put lavender blossoms in the dough. What do you think?”

  “I think they are delicious. What a novel thought.”

  “I read about using herbs in cooking and baking, made ‘em with dill before, fennel was too strong, caraway is good, and parsley doesn't give much flavor. I bet rosemary would be good, and I'm going to try that purple sage growing out in the herb garden too.”

  Here we are talking about herbed biscuits, and the important stuff is just lying there. She eyed her files. Like a rattlesnake.