Stitched Together

by Carol Dean Jones

  A few minutes later, she saw them coming up the street at a hurried pace.

  “Brrr,” Sarah said as she and Barney came through the door. She followed that with a deep sigh once she got into the warm living room and stood in front of the fireplace. “This feels wonderful. It actually puts out a little heat, doesn’t it?”

  “Of course it does! It’s a fireplace! Now come sit down while I pour us some coffee and serve these beautiful sticky buns I made this morning.”

  Watching Sophie pull the buns out of the oven, she couldn’t resist saying, “Oh, Sophie. I love your new pans! But they do look just a bit flimsy. What does that say on the side …?”

  “Okay. Okay. I got the buns at Keller’s Market yesterday. By the way, I saw that woman you used to work with. What’s her name? Beverly?”

  “She’s still there? That woman must be 110 years old by now!” Sarah responded with a grin.

  “She’s not quite that old, but she told me she intends to work until she drops. She said they miss you there.”

  Sarah worked at Keller’s twice: once when she first graduated from high school and again after her husband died. “I’ve been gone for four years now. I should stop in and say hello. I just got in the habit of shopping at the market on Main Street. It’s so handy …”

  “… and it gives you an excuse to stop in the fabric shop, right?”

  “Okay. You got me.” Sarah responded with a chuckle.

  As soon as they were settled at the table with their coffee and sticky buns (and Barney had curled up in the corner with the treats Sophie had for him), Sophie said, “Okay, I have another question for you.”

  “More questions? Now what?”

  “In the middle of the night, I heard a car. I checked my clock and it was 2:45 in the morning! I slipped on my best robe …”

  Sarah reached over and lifted the edge of the faded chartreuse pocket that was hanging by a thread and said, “… this robe?”

  Sophie gently slapped her hand away and continued. “And you won’t believe what I saw. A car had pulled into your driveway, and a man was skulking up to the door.”

  “Skulking?”

  “… and he had a key and let himself in.”

  “Now, Sophie. You know that was Charles. And you know he wasn’t skulking. He was just coming home.”

  “At that hour? Where had that man been to all hours?” she demanded, looking indignant.

  “I’ll tell you the whole story if you’ll calm down. It’s just that he came home because he got lonesome. He went to his apartment last night to have some time to himself, but after a few hours he realized he didn’t really want to be alone,” she said with a pleased smile. “In fact, I was missing him too.”

  “Hmm. How disappointing. I expected a better story than that.”

  “Well, that’s good because I have a better story than that for you.”

  Sophie’s face lit up in anticipation. “Yes? So tell me …”

  “Charles has decided we won’t be moving to Colorado.”

  “You’re staying here!” Sophie hollered with excitement. “Thank the Lord.”

  Sarah told her friend about their conversation the previous night. “I don’t know where we’ll be living, but it won’t be Colorado. He understands that I need to be near my friends and family.”

  “So why did he think he needed to be alone last night?”

  “He wants to find a way to get on better terms with his sons, and he doesn’t know how. I guess he just wanted to think about it.”

  “He can’t think at your house?”

  Sarah laughed. “Well he came home, didn’t he? I would say that he figured that one out. I sure did. I miss him when we aren’t together. I’m not sure how that happened, since I thought I was enjoying my time alone before I met him.”

  “We people are like dogs,” Sophie offered, looking at Sarah’s confused expression. “We’re pack animals.”

  “I guess we are, Sophie. I guess we are.”

  * * * * *

  When Sarah and Barney returned home, Charles was sitting in the living room with the telephone on his lap. He looked dejected and glanced up at Sarah without a smile. Barney, highly attuned to the moods of his loved ones, crept over without his usual enthusiasm and rested his head on Charles’ knee. Charles gently scratched his ear.

  “What is it?” Sarah asked, sitting down on the couch next to him. Charles didn’t answer right away, and Sarah didn’t push. She laid her hand on his arm and waited.

  Finally, he spoke. “I called John while you were gone. I wanted to catch him before he left for work.”

  “And?”

  “He was hesitant, like he didn’t know what to say. He just listened, and I talked about wanting to spend more time with him and my grandson. I really wanted to apologize for all the things they think I did wrong, but I didn’t. I knew I’d get into trying to justify my actions and I’d say dumb things that would just irritate him, so I just talked about wanting to spend time with them.”

  “Did he respond?”

  “Not right then. He said he wanted to talk to David and that he’d call me back. I didn’t expect to hear from him right away, but he called back twenty minutes later.” Charles reached down to pet Barney, who was now curled up across his feet. The kitten spotted the movement and scampered over, attacking Charles’ hand playfully. Charles smiled wistfully and looked over at Sarah.

  Not knowing what to say, she sat quietly, waiting for him to continue in his own time.

  After a few moments, he spoke. “He said he’d talked to David, and they agreed that this isn’t a good time. He said they’re both very busy and wouldn’t have the time to spend with me. John said he was sorry.”

  “Did he suggest another time?”

  “No.”

  Charles dropped his eyes and gently shook his head. “You know, I did the best I could back then. I know it was wrong to throw myself into my work, but I was a mess and didn’t know how else to deal with it. When she died …” He stopped mid-sentence and seemed hesitant to continue.

  Knowing he didn’t want to talk about his love for another woman, she spoke up saying, “I understand, Charles. When Jonathan died, my children were grown. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d had young ones to care for. I was devastated just as you were.”

  After a few moments, Charles continued. “I made sure they were taken care of. I gave Sylvia enough money to get them everything they needed. I don’t know what else I could have done …”

  Sarah remained quiet. She wanted to say the boys needed him, but he was torturing himself enough and didn’t need that pointed out to him. He was trying to make up for it now, but it was beginning to look like his sons weren’t ready.

  “Maybe they just need time,” she said. “They’re still young. Perhaps when they’re older, they’ll begin to understand.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he responded, reaching for her hand.

  After a few minutes, he shook his head as if to shake the problem away. He looked at her and asked, “Have you planned anything special for lunch?”

  “No,” she responded. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I think we should go out to lunch and get a whole new perspective on this day!”

  “I’d love that,” she responded, smiling.

  “And after lunch, let’s drive around Middletown and see if we see any For Sale signs.”

  Sarah tried not to show her delight. Of course, she wasn’t interested in looking at homes outside of Cunningham Village, but looking around Middletown was a step in the right direction.

  “I’m with you,” she declared.

  Chapter 8

  As they were driving around looking for realtor signs, Sarah told Charles about a section of town where there were several blocks of Victorian-style homes. “I don’t know if they’re original, but it would be fun to look at them,” she said.

  “I don’t think we want anything too old that would require lots of fixing up,�
�� Charles responded. “But we could sure take a look. Sometimes they’re actually newer houses built in the old style. Where is that area?”

  Sarah had driven a fellow student home from quilt class the previous year and was fairly sure she could find it again. “Turn here,” she directed.

  After a bit of wandering, they turned onto Cypress Avenue and were delighted to see a row of colorful old homes with turrets and decorative scrollwork. They drove through the next block as well and were disappointed to see none were displaying For Sale signs.

  “I’ll turn around and drive down the other side of the street. We may have missed one.” As he began to make his turn, they spotted an interesting old Victorian house sitting back from the road. There was a brick circular drive approaching the house and a black iron fence around the property; the gate stood open.

  The house was not as colorful as the ones on Cyprus, and not as large. It was clapboard painted a grayish green and had brick-red gingerbread trim. Attached to the fence was a realtor’s sign stating that it was for sale and giving the realtor’s phone number.

  “Let’s go in,” Sarah pleaded.

  “It’s much too big for us. And it’s old. Just think about the repairs …”

  “I just want to take a look.”

  He shook his head, looking bewildered but took out his cell phone and dialed the number. The woman who answered put him on hold while she contacted the owner. When she came back to the phone, she said that the owner was willing to let them come in, but that she, the realtor, wasn’t able to get there until later in the day.

  “No problem,” he responded. “We’ll take a look and call you this afternoon.” The realtor, unwilling to leave it that informal, took his name and number and said she would be in touch with him.

  “The woman’s name is Mattie Stockwell,” the realtor said. “She’s a little unusual.”

  “That’s okay. We’re just taking a quick look. Thanks,” and he disconnected.

  As they approached the house, Charles immediately saw work that would need to be done, and he again told Sarah he didn’t want to buy an old house.

  “We aren’t buying, Charles. We’re looking. There’s a difference. This will be fun.” She knew it was hard for Charles to just experience something for the fun of it. He needed to be accomplishing a task. Men hunt, women gather, she thought, remembering an article she had read on why it’s hard for men and women to shop together.

  He rang the bell and they waited for someone to respond. After a few minutes, they heard the bolt being thrown and the door began to slowly open. A small, frail-looking woman—who appeared to be in her nineties—peered out. “Are you the people to see the house?” she asked, looking a bit unsure whether she should let them in.

  “Yes,” Sarah replied as she stepped in front of Charles. She thought it might be less intimidating for the woman to be speaking with another woman rather than a retired cop who couldn’t seem to avoid using his cop voice in situations like this. “We’d love to see your charming home.”

  The woman smiled and stepped aside, inviting them to come in. Sarah was struck by the darkness of the interior. The walls were covered with heavily flowered wallpaper, and the woodwork had a dark stain that appeared almost black. The wood floors were also a very dark color and the windows had heavy drapery. “I didn’t have time to open the drapes,” the woman said apologetically as she shuffled over to open the drapes on the largest window in the room. “This is my parlor,” she said with a sweeping movement of her arm as the dust from the drapery cascaded toward the floor. Sarah coughed as the woman continued. “The dining room is beyond this room, and the kitchen is on the other side. You folks can walk around on this floor, and then we’ll go upstairs.”

  Sarah was more interested in the furniture than the house. “Look at these incredible antiques,” she whispered to Charles.

  “Excuse my furniture,” the woman called from where she was now sitting in the parlor. “This old stuff belonged to my mother, and I always meant to buy new, but you know how time gets away from you.”

  “This old stuff,” Sarah repeated softly, shaking her head as she lightly slid her hand over the smooth, glossy finish on the priceless buffet.

  After a cursory look at the first floor, Sarah said, “May we see the upstairs?” She felt herself beginning to picture what it would be like to live in this incredible house.

  “Don’t get too attached,” Charles whispered, anticipating her thoughts.

  “Yes. I’ll come upstairs with you.” Mattie Stockwell slowly led them up the staircase.

  While they were looking at the room that Mattie called the guest room, they heard a loud bang coming from the first floor. They looked at one another, but Mattie didn’t seem to notice it, so they continued their tour.

  “What’s up there?” Charles asked, pointing toward an open door at the end of the hallway that revealed a narrow staircase.

  “That goes up to the attic and the widow’s peak.”

  “Oh! That’s sounds exciting!” Sarah almost squealed. “May we go up?”

  Again they heard the noise coming from the first floor—this time several loud clunking sounds.

  Ignoring the disturbance, Mattie said, “I can’t do those steps, but you two can go on up if you want. Just be careful where you step. Some of the floorboards are weak up there.”

  “I think we’ll pass,” Charles said, and Sarah looked at him with disappointment. “It could be dangerous,” he whispered to her.

  Ignoring the continuing disturbance from the first floor, Mattie took them into the primitive bathroom. “Now this room …” Before she could finish her sentence, a single loud bang seemed to shake the entire house.

  “Shouldn’t we check to see what that is?” Charles asked.

  “Oh, that’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I think it might be,” Charles responded. “It sounds like your plumbing. Let’s take a look.”

  “It’s not that,” Mattie said as she carefully started down the stairs. She stopped on the landing and turned toward her guests to explain. “Uncle Hiram doesn’t want me to sell the house. I’ve tried to explain why I have to do it. He’ll get over it in time.”

  “Who’s Uncle Hiram?” Sarah asked as Mattie continued down the narrow stairway to the first floor.

  “He’s my great uncle. He was married to my grandmother’s sister, and he built this house back at the turn of the century. The last century that is—not this one. I have papers saying it was built around 1903.”

  Sarah looked confused. “He built it in 1903? This man must be … wait, he would be way over 100 by now. I don’t understand …”

  “Exactly! He’d have been 142 this year,” Mattie said proudly as she reached the main floor and turned toward the living room. “If he had lived that is, but of course he didn’t.”

  Sarah tilted her head to the side, looking perplexed. Mattie’s back was turned as she straightened an afghan on the back of an old rocker, and Charles pointed to his head making circles with his finger as if to indicate this lady was nuts.

  Sarah frowned at him and went on. She wasn’t willing to let this go. “Tell me about your Uncle Hiram. Why doesn’t he want you to sell the house?”

  Charles rolled his eyes and turned away from the conversation.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Mattie responded. “He built the house, and he wants it to stay in the family. But as far as I know, there’s no family to take the house. They’re all long gone.”

  “How do you know that’s what Uncle Hiram wants?” Sarah asked, despite Charles’ exasperated body language.

  “Some people say I’m crazy, and I get the feeling that’s what your husband over there thinks.” Charles looked embarrassed and shrugged his shoulders. “But Uncle Hiram has lived here all his life and then some. You don’t need to be afraid of him. He’s a kind ol’ geezer. I remember him from when I was a child. He used to keep gumballs in that bowl over there for when I visited.” Mattie looked wistfu
l as she remembered those visits. “He was a good man.”

  Perking up, she added with a chuckle, “… and he still is!”

  “Well, Mrs. Stockwell,” Charles said, changing the subject abruptly. “We’ll be in touch with your realtor. Thanks so much for showing us the house.” As they left, they heard another loud bang coming from the kitchen.

  “Uncle Hiram says goodbye,” Mattie hollered after them.

  “That agent was right,” Charles commented as they were getting into their car. “That lady has bats in her belfry.”

  Chapter 9

  “Hey, honey. Where are you?”

  “I’m back here in the sewing room. I’m glad you’re home. I have something to show you.”

  “And I have something to show you, as well,” Charles responded.

  He set his bags down on the kitchen table and walked back to the sewing room, trying not to trip over Boots, who was winding herself in and out of his ankles as he walked. “Careful, kitty,” he warned. “You’re about to get stepped on.” Barney came running up about then, and Boots transferred her attention to him.

  “Come see these oriental blocks I just finished.” She held them up proudly, and he told her it was going to be a spectacular quilt, although he still had trouble looking at a couple of blocks and imagining how it would look as a finished quilt.

  “What do you have to show me?” Sarah asked, getting up from the sewing table and rubbing her low back. “I shouldn’t sit so long,” she reflected.

  They went into the kitchen and Charles began unpacking the bag. “I got you a laptop computer today. I’ve been thinking that we could start looking at houses right here in the kitchen without having to drive all over town.” Sarah wondered briefly if her new husband would ever know her well enough to know that she would like to have been involved in this kind of decision, but she decided not to bring up that issue. They were in the process of working out bigger issues. This one can wait, she decided.

  Once she got a good look at the computer, she was delighted. She sat down and explored the programs that were included. “This will be great, Charles. Thank you.”