The gazes of four women bounced off each other like so many billiard balls smacked with a wooden cue.
Lucius leaned over on a hip and pulled Lizbeth’s cell phone from his pocket. “Lucius has a secret weapon.”
“That looks like mine,” Lizbeth said.
“It is yours,” he said. In total darkness, Lucius believed Lizbeth would recognize her precious phone.
“How’d you get it?”
“Forgive us, peaches. Callie and I found it on the floor mat when I put Chad’s videos in the Tahoe.”
“Callie.” Eyes wide, Lizbeth shot the name across the table to the owner. “You knew all along.”
Lucius responded. “Of course, she did. This very helpful device gave me access to Brother Pat and Uncle Ralph.”
“You didn’t!” Lizbeth sputtered.
“I’m glad I did because it also gave me access to Arnett’s minute and a half.” He cut his eyes to Arnett. “That can be a lifetime, darlin’.”
With that, Lucius ushered everyone into the living room and Arnett to the seat of honor, Willie’s recliner. Beebe and Lizbeth sat on the couch. Lucius turned the desk chair around for Callie, so it faced the flat-screen above the fireplace. Willie controlled the laptop. Lucius nodded, and he activated the electronics. A stilled picture appeared on the wide screen.
Chad, in a red and navy striped shirt and faded jeans, sat cross-legged in grass. Behind the camera, his Uncle Pat sat at ground level too, his legs stretched out.
“How did you get this?” Lizbeth flung at Lucius.
“Pat posted it. Sent the link to your phone. Need I say more?” He had no choice, really, but to peek at the linked video, what with the coveted reputation of meddler extraordinaire to protect.
Lucius stood off to the side for a view of the television and the women. Willie, next to him, tapped the laptop’s touchpad, and the picture moved forward.
Patrick’s voice asked, “What did you like best about Wednesday, the day we arrived to visit Maria and Gracie?” Occasionally, one or the other of his worn running shoes drifted into the picture. Chad was stationed just beyond. The filming took place at dusk. Fireflies dotted the background.
Chad’s response was immediate. “Maria got Buster that day.”
“What did you like about Thursday?”
“On Thursday, we went on the picnic.”
“What did you like best about today?”
“We saw farm animals. And I rode a pony.” His fists came up to accentuate his accomplishment.
“What will you like best about tomorrow?”
The boy’s face brightened. “Tomorrow, you promised I could sail remote boats in the pond.”
“Remote-control boats,” Uncle Patrick helped.
“Right, remote-control boats.”
“And what will be best about Sunday?” Patrick posed enthusiastically.
“On Sunday, Mommy and Grandma will pick me up. I can’t wait to see them.”
Willie paused the screen’s image. Throughout the elapsed one minute and thirty seconds, the steady camera lens captured the four-year old’s excitement for puppies, picnics, and ponies, but that dulled by comparison with his wiggling expectation of a joyful reunion.
Lucius went to stand by the boy frozen on the plasma, the downturned shape of his eyes a match for his father’s. “You’ve heard how much Chad wants to see you, Arnett. And you’ve heard Lizbeth’s final decision. No quilt, no Chad, starting tomorrow. Time is running out. Will you accept the quilt?”
Bless her. She withstood ten piercing eyeballs, an even dozen if Chad’s were counted. Arnett Oldstone Sebring was tough as rebar.
. . .
Lizbeth woke Sunday morning with the same thought wedged inside her head from the night before. She stared up at the cabin’s ceiling. A sheet and thin spread were the only weight on her, but the combination felt as heavy as being pinned under a truck. “Please, Arnett,” she prayed, “please, don’t make me explain to Chad why you didn’t come with me.”
On the silent ride home from Bullwhip, Arnett would not speak, so no one spoke. Lizbeth thought her hold on the situation slipped. The removal of Florida from the equation left Arnett feeling victorious. Given enough time, Arnett assumed she could chip away until Lizbeth lost her grip altogether.
After watching the video, everyone appealed to Arnett. Everyone asked her to decide. Then each, in turn, recognized the futility of his or her efforts. Simply said, that was Arnett. She sapped every ounce of energy out of a person, every last breath, then she merely stepped over the misshapen lump for her seemingly effortless win.
It went without saying, the gentlemen walked the ladies out to the SUV, saw them settled inside, and closed the doors. As Callie steered the Santa Fe through the tree-lined entrance, Lizbeth looked back. In the distance, behind the two men, stood Lucius’s moonlit outdoor dining room. The moonlight was bright enough for Lizbeth to witness Lucius’s chin drop and his shoulders sag. Willie rubbed his back. What a disappointment for Lucius, she thought. After all his sweet intentions, his enchanted evening ended on an Arnett-soured note. The others all faced forward in their seats, so this memory was solely fixed in her mind and strung to her heart.
Lizbeth noticed Arnett spent some time searching Chad’s eyes on the TV screen. In a few short hours, though, when Lizbeth pulled the Tahoe into Maria’s and Gracie’s Marietta driveway alone and Chad came racing out the front door, his eyes would be hers to search. His loss, hers to console again.
All week long, Lizbeth swaggered and lorded her position of authority over Arnett. But until she turned out the bedside lamp last evening, Lizbeth hadn’t once considered that ultimately, she was the person taking a grandmother away from the boy who’d lost so much already. Arnett knew. She walked the situation through. Quite the artful dodger, she devoted a lifetime to manipulating people and situations so that she was never the one dispensing unpleasant news. No words could undo the visual for her young son: his mother occupied the SUV; his grandmother did not. That would be tantamount to rejection. Lizbeth expected gigantic hot tears from both of them.
Lethargically, she crawled out from under the covers. Once dressed, she stood over her suitcase at the foot of the bed, packing her belongings. The anticipation of seeing her son should have overwhelmed as deliciously as waiting to sample a three-layer chocolate cake. The day now came to partake, but she found the icing slid off in the warm weather.
The new job would help, she told herself, and Chad would make friends at daycare. While it was months away, they would make plans for the holidays, when Geoff came home from school.
Lizbeth looked around the room for anything she missed. A corner of something stuck out behind her purse on the dresser. Going over, she saw the three photographs from the entryway table lay there. Frowning, she picked them up. Where was the quilt?
“Arnett! If you’ve done anything to that quilt, I swear—”
She yanked the bedroom door open and blustered through.
The first thing she saw was Arnett standing at the screen door, looking out. Her suitcase sat at her feet. The sounds Lizbeth’s heels made on the hardwood echoed through the eerily quiet great room. She stopped after four steps and looked down to the other bedroom doors. Beebe’s was closed, Callie’s cracked open a few inches.
She swung her attention back to Arnett, waiting on Lucius’s and Willie’s arrival for the promised ride home. Since she hadn’t announced her decision last night, they had no alternative but to make the trip over this morning to hear her answer.
And her answer was clear: She couldn’t be bothered to understand Lizbeth’s side and do what was best for Chad. Lizbeth’s anger flar
ed, forcing her mouth open. Charged words of frustration and defeat were forming on her tongue when Arnett pushed her shoulders back and turned. Folded across one arm was the quilt. She held it tight against her. Lizbeth glanced right. The entryway tabletop was empty.
With her head tipped to the quilt, Arnett ran a reminiscent hand over one of the Hawaiian shirt patches. Lifting her chin, she said, “My father never issued his verdict on the same day the case was given him. Sufficient time for thought was required. The parties were due just and thorough consideration. That was his rule.”
Lizbeth put a smirk on her face. So, this was to be Arnett’s high-handed verdict from the bench. Thankfully, Lizbeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes heavenward in disgust; that put Arnett dead center in her crosshairs when the transformation occurred. Lizbeth watched the woman soften by degrees. When Arnett spoke again, the formal, black-robed Judge Oldstone was no longer in the room.
“To tell you the truth,” she said sheepishly, “I always sort of waited for John to brave my bucking temper and defend the other side. Then, just like he had some innate understanding of Oldstone custom, he gave me overnight. The next morning, I was ready to go along. The only difference between him then and you now is, I never acknowledged openly that I accepted his position. He would see me standing here and know there’d be no way I’d give up that little boy.”
A wave of unbridled relief flooded into Lizbeth’s heart, snapping bands of tension. She started forward.
“No, wait.” Arnett threw up a hand. “I have more, and I have to say it now.” Her eyes never left Lizbeth. “I was ready to accept your demands after the storm.”
Lizbeth shook her head. “Two days ago?”
Arnett nodded. “That night, I gave myself the talk John would have.” She paused. “You know, now that I think about it, those words weren’t John’s rationale. They were mine, with a tiny twist of truth tacked on.” She smiled. “Typical for me. But I was so grateful you weren’t hurt, and overwhelmed by Callie’s heroism. It’s hard for me to admit when I’m wrong. I guess that doesn’t come as a surprise. I hope as time passes, you and I operate more in tandem. I waited for you to ask me to accept the quilt that night, but you were too upset because I held back my last conversation with Dan. The next day, when you were up and around, then yesterday, too, I sensed something changed in you. I compensated with my best serving of stubbornness and anger because I was so scared.”
Arnett’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I thought that because John worked so hard to keep peace in the family, to negotiate truces, that he still loved me, and would love me, no matter what. That turned out to be a smokescreen. He found happiness elsewhere.” Lizbeth watched Arnett disappear inside herself. “In the end, he found it hard to say he’d given all he had to give.” Arnett patted the quilt. “Thank you. This was awfully nice of you.”
“You’re very welcome,” Lizbeth said, touching her arm. She eased over a moment before, just about the time Arnett became her scared mother-in-law.
“I’m ready to go get that boy,” Arnett declared.
Beebe’s celebratory whistle punctuated the announcement. She and Callie swung through the latter’s bedroom door, clapping. They’d been listening. Beebe rushed forward for a group hug. Callie hung back. A coolness still existed between the wife who once loved, and the other woman who always would love Jack Sebring.
Beebe tugged Arnett into a little dance. The joy was intoxicating. The jig ended with Beebe red-faced and flapping the front of her shirt.
Lizbeth had no illusions about Arnett. She would slide into Cassel, head high. She’d carry the quilt over her arm, walk with her grandson hand in hand, and be practiced with the angle she’d add to the Florida story. Lizbeth’s decision to remain in Maryland would become the victory Arnett gleaned from her time at Heatherwood.
Lucius and Willie arrived a few minutes later, saw Arnett with the quilt, and leaped forward to plant a kiss on each cheek. The men, then, surprised Lizbeth by lavishing their attention on her. Lucius led her to the kitchen chair Willie pulled away from the table and turned toward the group.
Lucius looked to Callie. “It’s all arranged. Can I tell her?”
She inclined her head. “Be my guest.”
On his knees in front of Lizbeth, Lucius took her hands and told her about the mini mural to be created from one of Dan’s landscapes. The mural would be hung like wallpaper on her dining room wall. His coordinating partners helped. Uncle Ralph had the business contacts to enlarge the painting and see to its printing; Brother Patrick, a frequent visitor in Lizbeth’s home, provided the wall dimensions.
As Lucius spoke, Lizbeth’s eyes welled. Speechless, she expressed her gratitude by throwing her arms around Lucius’s neck. She released him after a tight, tight hug.
Lucius rose and went to slip an arm around his nursery mate. “Life repackaged by Callie,” he said. “This was her idea.”
Lizbeth worried no further about being short on words. Everyone talked at once.
Once the Tahoe was packed, Lizbeth and Arnett headed to Marietta. At destination’s end, when Lizbeth’s hand gripped the knob to shift into park, Arnett’s fingers overlapped her daughter-in-law’s.
“When you get home, there’s going to be a letter in your mailbox from Harlow Nolan. Promise me you’ll throw it away unopened.” Immediately, Arnett jumped out. She still held the quilt.
Up at the house, Chad slammed out the front door. His short legs, sticking out of cutoffs, carried him straight to his grandmother, who swept him up in the wide-open quilt. Arnett puckered and landed one of Chad’s sweet kisses. When Chad reached out to his mother, the patches around his grinning face were Dan’s number fourteen baseball jersey and his Kool-Aid-stained Saturday shirt.
While the scene unfolded, Lizbeth counted her blessings. They included Beebe, Callie, Lucius, and Willie. Protectors all. She would survive the loss of a love.
One Black Glove and
A White Lace Hanky
A few weeks later, Callie and Lucius, via video feed, learned that Lizbeth and Arnett worked out another compromise. It whittled back Arnett’s grandsitting time. They agreed Chad should be enrolled in preschool. He needed to see faces other than his mother’s and grandmother’s. He needed to play and learn and grow and laugh, and they needed him to come home enthusiastic with stories of his day. Arnett picked him up at three every afternoon, and Lizbeth got him from her house after work, where she thrived. Occasionally, Chad and Lizbeth stayed on with Arnett for supper.
Lizbeth reported the quilt made of Dan’s clothes lay across the back of Arnett’s grandmother’s chair. She never saw Arnett and Chad sit there. That was not a picture Arnett permitted. Dan sat with them, Callie thought. For Lizbeth, that was enough.
In early October, a workman hung the mural. Lizbeth told Callie and Lucius she would find herself leaning against the room’s doorframe, daydreaming about walking with Dan hand in hand through the field of tall grasses and colorful wildflowers depicted in the mural toward a centuries-old barn and silo in the distance and purple-peaked mountains beyond. In a moment of honesty, she confessed there were days when she could not face the mural, when she couldn’t bear to lose herself in the meadow again, and kept her eyes averted. On those evenings, she sat with her back to the field of memories and let her son’s jabbering at mealtime keep her grounded in reality.
Lucius’s big night came on the third Saturday in October. Baron celebrated its Festival of Leaves and the town fathers dedicated the new visitor’s center that inhabited the shell of the 1892 train depot. Lizbeth and Willie drove down together for the dressy affair. Lucius’s fabulous restoration work brought him accolades all evening long.
During the last week of March, Callie sent an email to Lizbeth. The short mes
sage read: Beebe’s quilt is finished.
Lizbeth took on the coordination of schedules. A plan was made to gather at Beebe’s house for dinner the second Saturday in April. During the intervening two weeks, Beebe reported her father, Clifford Walker, was eager to receive both the quilt and Beebe’s friends in their home, seamstress Callie in particular.
Beebe’s first two months in Michigan were filled with strain and grief for the two Walkers. Callie noticed her conversations and texts reflected improvement soon after Abigail Walker’s grave was moved to the family plot and a new headstone erected. Forgiveness played a part as well.
The distance between Maryland and Michigan was broken into a two-day trip for Lizbeth, Arnett, and Chad. They were the first to arrive. Lucius and Willie would be the last. Willie wanted to keep an appointment with a client in Pittsburgh, just a jog off Interstate 79.
Callie checked in with Beebe when she passed the new school campus at the city limits. Beebe told her the women’s gabfest was on. Her father and Chad were taking a walk to the back gate. Callie understood that meant they escaped to stroll the neighboring cemetery.
At first blush, Larkspur put Callie in mind of a fishing village. She drove the main drag to the outskirts on the north side, then a bit farther to Larkspur Cemetery and the caretaker’s house. The house was as old as the cemetery, the cemetery as old as the town.
Callie motored her Santa Fe into the drive. She no sooner stopped behind the Tahoe than Lizbeth rushed out the door and down the porch steps. She gave Callie a long hug, disproportional to the amount of time they spent in each other’s company, but Callie understood the origin for the fondness.
Wild Raspberries Page 31