Patchwork and Politics

by Christine Lynxwiler

  He looked confused for a second, then his expression cleared. “Why, Megan. I believe that was a joke.”

  “You think? Uh-oh. You must be rubbing off on me.” She sat down. When he folded himself into the corresponding chair, she met his gaze. “So, what did you come back for?”

  Now why had she said that? She was supposed to jump right into her good-bye speech.

  “I wanted to talk for a few minutes.” He cleared his throat and stared out across the yard to the barn. She followed his gaze. The sun was setting, and once again, they were sharing the beautiful scene. It seemed to have become their hallmark – watching sunsets together. One ending after another. He turned back toward her. “I was hoping you’d reconsider about the Fourth of July picnic. You’d really enjoy it. You deserve to get out and have some fun.” He hesitated for a second. “So does Sarah.”

  Megan gasped. “Oh, that’s low, McFadden, really low. Using a preschooler to get a date.” She hated the direction this conversation was going, but she seemed helpless to stop her harsh words. How dare he bring her daughter into this?

  “But she’s really not a preschooler, is she?” His voice was soft. “Because that implies she goes to preschool, and except for church and an occasional outing to Aunt Irene’s, Sarah never leaves the farm, does she?”

  His tone was calm, but the accusation in his words propelled Megan to her feet. “Sarah has a good life.” Suddenly, her legs gave way. She sank back down into the rocker and covered her face with her hands.

  “I can’t do this. You have no idea who I am.” Suddenly, Megan remembered the series of phone calls she’d received during that awful time after Barry’s death. The unidentified caller’s words echoed in her ears. Who are you? “Maybe I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  “Maybe I know you better than you think.” His big hand covered hers, warm and secure. She knew she should move hers, but for a moment, she allowed herself the comfort. “I know you’re a wonderful mother, a good friend, and caring neighbor, sensitive to others’ pain, open to God’s plans for your life—”

  “Whoa, how do you know I’m open to God’s plans for my life?”

  “You study your Bible, you go to church, you pray—if you didn’t care what God had to say you wouldn’t do all of that.”

  “Those other things. . .they sound good, but if I’m such a wonderful mother, how come my daughter has never been to a restaurant before? As you so aptly pointed out earlier, why doesn’t she have playmates? Attend preschool?” Megan’s words ended on a sob.

  “Because her mother was hurt so badly by the world that she wants to protect her precious child from that? Is that so awful?” Holt almost whispered the words as he tightly held her hand.

  Megan’s head snapped up. “You know.” She jerked her hand away and swiped at her tears with the back of it. “How long have you known?”

  “From the beginning. She didn’t tell me the whole story, but Annie Sampson jogged my memory.”

  Disbelief coursed through her. “Why didn’t you run the other way as fast as you could?”

  “And never have a chance to watch a sunset with you? Or see Sarah’s delight at using a ‘rooster’ seat?” He smiled.

  “Oh, Holt. You know what I mean. You shouldn’t have come to the house the day we met. How much heartache you could have saved us if you hadn’t.”

  ❧

  Along with his usual prayer for patience, Holt sent a silent request for a large helping of wisdom. Lord, give me the right words.

  “I can’t speak for you, but there’s not a heartache in this world that’s big enough to make me give up one minute I’ve spent with you.” He reached out and gently wiped away a tear with his thumb. He caressed her cheek for a few seconds then dropped a light kiss where his thumb had been. Leaning back in his chair, he realized it was time for her to speak her piece. “You want to tell me why I should have run?”

  She allowed him to put his arm around her. In spite of the rocker arms between them, she leaned against him, as if absorbing his strength. “Barry swept me off my feet. Before I met him, I was strong and independent. ‘Megan will really go places.’ That’s what people used to say. I was voted ‘Most Likely to Succeed’ in high school.”

  He grinned at this glimpse of her adolescent persona, but she didn’t return his smile.

  “I was voted ‘Class Clown,’ ” Holt said.

  “Were you really, or are you just saying that to make me smile?”

  He grinned. “Both.”

  Her lips turned up for a second, then quickly changed back to an expression more appropriate for the dentist’s chair.

  “Anyway, after Barry and I became involved, nothing was as important as pleasing him. Sometimes I’d think maybe he wasn’t being completely honest, but the dazzle in his smile would make me reconsider. We married not long after we started dating. I remember thinking how lucky I was that he chose me.

  “He was a plant controller at Minton’s in Jonesboro. So, not only did he make me go weak in the knees, he made a comfortable living. We were able to get a nice house right away. Barry wasn’t satisfied with his job. He wanted to get into investments. He started small and had some small successes. One night, about a month after Sarah was born, he woke me at three in the morning and told me that he had a plan.

  “He wanted to start a theme park in this area, where my mother’s family was from. He wanted to use only local investors and bragged to me that he would turn the economy around. Make everyone in the area wealthy. I questioned the logic of this idea, and he pouted for a week, refusing even to speak to me. By the end of that time, I was miserable.”

  Holt squeezed her hand.

  “After I’d reassured him of my support, his excitement bubbled over again. He made a list, and we went around to everyone we knew—my parents, my grandmother’s friends, the people at church, local businessmen. He had a remarkable business plan. The park itself was sketched out on blueprint-type paper, and it looked impressive. Some people hated the idea. But plenty of others were very interested. Seeing their excitement convinced me that this could really work.”

  “Did you help him handle the investments?” Holt knew what had been insinuated in the papers, but from the moment he’d met Megan, he knew, as well as Annie Sampson did, that there was no way she’d be involved in anything dishonest. If it ever came up, he’d just have to be sure the voters knew it too.

  “No. Barry had me go with him to make the initial contact with each person, but after that, I had nothing to do with the amounts invested or how the money was used.”

  Holt couldn’t completely control his anger at a man who would use his wife as Barry Watson had. When Megan looked at their intertwined hands, he realized he was squeezing too tightly. “Oops.” He offered a rueful half-grin as he relaxed his iron grip. “I guess I’m more than a little angry at what he did to you.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve run the gamut of emotions from fear to hurt to anger to forgiveness. There’s no purpose in being mad at a dead man.”

  “No, I don’t suppose there is. So did you find out before he died? Or after?”

  “He began coming home later and looking worried, but whenever I’d ask him how things were going, he’d give me a flip answer and a thousand-watt smile.

  “People started wanting concrete details on how the theme park was coming along. He’d kept the plans shrouded in secrecy as far as location and so on. One morning, I got up determined to make Barry tell me what was going on. By then I was beginning to see through the façade, and I wanted answers myself. After all, my mother had put her inheritance in this venture. I stomped into the exercise room ready for a confrontation and found Barry lying on the floor. An autopsy revealed he’d had a massive heart attack and died immediately.”

  “Megan, I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.”

  This time it was she who squeezed his hand, then released it. She pushed her hair back from her face. “While we were planning the funeral, I re
alized that I would be the one to have to answer to all of those investors. I went through his papers looking for a clue. What I found was a catastrophe.

  “When Barry realized he didn’t have the investors to build on a grand scale, he’d reinvested their money without disclosing this fact to them. He’d lost it all. Now there was no money, no theme park, not even any land, and no Barry. All that was left to face the music was me.” Tears welled up in her eyes again, and Holt devoutly wished he could have been there to stand by her during such a horrible time.

  “Well, that’s not really true. I had God to depend on. Thankfully, Barry had a life insurance policy that I had split up proportionally among all his investors, but it was nowhere near enough. One of the hardest things I’ve ever done was tell my own mother that because of me she’d lost all of that money Granny Lola had worked so hard for all her life. To this day I can’t face her and my father.” She shrugged. “In a way, in addition to everything else, Barry even took my parents from me.” She tried to smile through her tears. “Well, that’s all of my pity party. Heard enough? Aren’t you glad you wore your running shoes tonight?”

  “What I’ve heard is the story of a brave woman who let herself be taken in, then paid the price. You weren’t dishonest, and when you discovered his deceit you were going to confront him.” To Holt there was no question that she’d just ended up in a bad situation. So why was she still hiding?

  “But don’t you see?” She relaxed back against his arm. “It was too late.” She raised her head and pushed to her feet. “Just like it’s too late for us. Actually, there should have never been an ‘us.’ You have to have freedom, and I can’t give you that. I’ll never be free.”

  “Freedom is a state of mind, Megan.”

  “Fancy words can’t make this go away. And if you won’t run, I will.”

  “I’m not running.” Holt stood and extended his hand to her.

  Without saying a word, she turned and walked across the porch.

  “Megan, you’ve got it all wrong.”

  She never turned around but just shook her head and slipped inside the house.

  Long after her screen door slammed, Holt stood there looking at the little farmhouse. He would go home because it would be uncomfortable sleeping in his pickup, but he knew in his heart that he was far from giving up on Megan Watson.

  Ten

  Holt didn’t know what Megan would say when he showed up as if it were a regular Tuesday. He’d spent yesterday trying to convince himself just to let her go, but his heart wasn’t so easily reclaimed.

  He couldn’t make her believe he wasn’t worried about her past. How would he ever share his plans for the future? And if he was able to persuade her, could he be sure he was strong enough to stand by her, no matter what?

  Lord, please help me to remember that Your opinion is the only one that matters.

  Just as he pulled into the driveway, Megan and Sarah ran out of the house toward their van. The frantic look on Megan’s face propelled him from his truck.

  “It’s Aunt Irene! She’s fallen.”

  “Get in and I’ll drive you. My truck’s already running.”

  Without hesitation, Megan guided Sarah to Holt’s truck and helped her into the backseat of the crew cab pickup, then she jumped in the front.

  Holt glanced at Megan’s pale face and reached over and took her hand. In spite of the summer heat, her fingers were ice cold. “Did she call 9-1-1?”

  “Yes, just before she called me.”

  He jerked the vehicle into the elderly woman’s long driveway.

  “When we get up there,” Megan said, in a low voice, “let Sarah stay outside and play with the puppies. I’ll go in to be with Aunt Irene until the ambulance comes.”

  “Okay, but if you need me, promise you’ll yell.”

  She nodded. Before the truck came to a complete stop, she jumped out and ran into the house. Holt noticed Aunt Irene’s old green pickup had the tailgate down. Groceries were scattered on the ground and in the bed of the truck. Had the older woman fallen outside?

  The puppies bounded toward Holt and Sarah as they walked across the yard. Holt hurriedly gathered the scattered groceries into the empty bags. When he’d finished he sank down on the porch, he hoped within earshot of the house, and watched the preschooler run and romp with the pups. He heard a couple of low moans from the living room and started to rise. Then he recognized Megan’s voice, no longer frantic, but calm and soothing as she spoke to her elderly neighbor.

  “How come we can’t go inside?” Sarah stared at him, a frown marring her normally cheerful face. “Is Aunt Irene hurt bad?”

  “I’m not sure.” Holt didn’t have much experience with children, but he remembered that even when he was young, he’d appreciated honesty. “She’s hurting, but I think she’s going to be okay.”

  “Don’t you think she’s gonna want me to hold her hand?” Her voice went up on the last word, and he could see a hint of tears in her eyes.

  “Your mama’s holding her hand. But there is something we can do.”

  “What?”

  “Pray.”

  She nodded. “Will you do it?”

  “Sure.” Holt bowed his head.

  “Wait!” Sarah yelled.

  Holt looked up quickly. “What’s wrong?”

  She slipped her tiny hand into his. “We always hold hands when we pray.”

  He squeezed her hand and nodded, then bowed again. He waited for a second to see if she would think of something else. When she remained quiet, he began to speak. “Father, thank you so much for letting Sarah and me come to you in prayer today. We want to ask you to be with Aunt Irene. Please take away her pain and help her to get better quickly. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  He looked up to see Sarah’s head still bowed. Her little voice broke the silence. “God? Thank you for Mr. Holt. Me and Mama like him a lot, ’cept he makes Mama cry sometimes. In Jesus’ name, am—”

  The squeal of sirens cut off the amen. Sarah jerked around with a start, then jumped into Holt’s lap. He gathered her up and moved to the porch swing. It went against his grain not to be in the middle of the action, but he was here to help and right now Megan needed Sarah kept out of the way more than anything.

  The EMTs hurried past them into the house. In what seemed no time at all, they rushed back past toting Aunt Irene on a stretcher. Holt looked at her ankle and cringed.

  Megan was the last one to come out. She stepped onto the porch and watched as the paramedics loaded her friend into the ambulance. The forlorn look on her face propelled Holt to his feet, gently sliding Sarah to a standing position as well.

  His legs seemed to move of their own volition as he walked across to the woman he’d come to care so much about. He folded her into his arms. She stiffened, then collapsed against him. He laid his cheek against the top of her head.

  Sarah stood for a minute, as if frozen, then she burst forward and threw her arms around them together. They each released one arm to include the little girl in the embrace.

  “We have to go to the hospital,” Megan said. “Or at least I do.”

  “We’ll all go.” Taking into consideration Megan’s stubbornness, Holt made sure his tone brooked no argument.

  He led them to the truck and helped them in, then hurried around to climb in the driver’s seat. As the truck bounced down the gravel road, Megan laid her head against the window.

  “Aunt Irene’s gonna be okay, Mama.”

  “I know it, Baby.”

  “She really is. Me and Mr. Holt prayed for her.”

  Megan turned and looked at Holt. “Thanks,” she murmured. “That’s great, Sarah.”

  For the rest of the trip to the hospital, Sarah rattled on to her imaginary friends about the importance of prayer. In spite of their worry, Holt and Megan exchanged a small smile.

  “That’s some girl you’ve got there.” Holt was still a little stunned at Sarah’s prayer.

  “I like her.”


  “How is she?” He glanced at Megan. With something akin to the unspoken communication of a couple who’d been together for years, he realized she knew he hadn’t wanted to say Aunt Irene’s name where Sarah would hear.

  “In pain. It’s definitely broken. The bone was sticking out the skin.”

  “How did it happen? Could she tell you?”

  Megan nodded. “She’d just gotten home from getting groceries. She climbed up into the truck and was straddling the tailgate. Somehow the latch gave away and the tailgate came down on her leg.”

  “How did she get into the house?”

  “Apparently, she lay on the ground for awhile.” Megan drew a shuddering breath but kept her voice low. “Then she dragged herself across the yard, up the steps, and into the house. She blacked out before she could reach the cordless phone. When she came to, she called 9-1-1, then me.”

  Holt could see the worry on her face. Odd how he’d always thought he could find the right thing to say in any situation. Since he’d met Megan, it seemed like his vocabulary had diminished. “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded but turned to stare out the window.

  Suddenly, he remembered when he was on the debate team in high school. His mom had joked that if he ever met a girl who struck him speechless, he’d better hold on to her. Unfortunately, she hadn’t told him what to do if the girl kept pushing him away.

  ❧

  Even though he had plenty of both, some things are more important than good looks and charm, Megan thought, three days later, as she watched Holt help Aunt Irene into the car he’d borrowed. When he’d shown up today in the unfamiliar vehicle, he’d explained that he thought the car would be more comfortable for the elderly woman with her bulky walking cast.

  Megan had already realized she was falling in love with Holt, but in the last few days, she’d realized something almost worse. She liked him. An incredible amount.

  The tenderness in his eyes every time he looked at her was her undoing. He’d been so patient with Aunt Irene, and he’d been feeding the puppies twice a day while the elderly woman was in the hospital. Megan had told him she and Sarah could do it, but he’d insisted she had her hands full visiting the hospital.