The Tapestry in the Attic

by Mary O'Donnell

  Stella paused and looked at Mary Beth. Quietly she said, “What do you think about the Hook and Needle Club acting as a support team for the play, Mary Beth?”

  Mary Beth looked up, and there were tears in her eyes. She looked around at the others, with an apologetic expression on her face. “I’m sorry. It’s a wonderful idea, and of course, I want to take part in it as well.”

  “What is it, Mary Beth?” asked Peggy. “Was it something we said?”

  Mary Beth smiled slightly, but her eyes were sad as a small tear rolled down her cheek. “No, Peggy, not at all. I just … what a strange coincidence … I was in to the doctor’s office this morning for my annual checkup, and I was due for a mammogram. The thing is, they found a lump in my left breast, and they’ve scheduled me for a biopsy this Friday.”

  The room was silent for a moment before it erupted with words of surprise and support, and offerings of prayers from her friends.

  “Thanks … to all of you,” said Mary Beth, taking a tissue from her pocket to wipe the few tears that had fallen on her cheeks. “I had thought that I would just keep it to myself until after the biopsy results came back, but it turns out that I do need the support of my friends. All of you have become like family to me; sometimes as much or even more than my own. I feel like I truly have six sisters here in Stony Point.”

  “I’m so glad that you told us, Mary Beth,” Annie said. “You don’t need to go through this alone. We’re all here for you.”

  “I know that, and I appreciate it,” said Mary Beth. “I guess I haven’t had a chance to process it all yet. It was just such a shock. I’m so healthy. I try to eat right, and I exercise. I’m a little overweight, but my blood pressure and heart rate are good. I guess I’m feeling what most people in my position must feel: ‘Why me?’”

  “The thing to do, I think,” said Gwen, “is to just take one step at a time. Having the right attitude is so important. Try not to imagine the worst. You don’t even know yet if it’s actually cancer. Sometimes it isn’t. If it is, discovering it early like this is the key.” She glanced around the room. “And that’s why it’s wise for all of us to have routine checkups.”

  “And if and when you need some time off, I can handle things here at the shop,” said Kate. “You know that Vanessa will be happy to stop by after school to help out too.”

  “My days are pretty much free,” said Annie. “I’d love nothing more than to volunteer in the shop during the day, so Kate can take a break.”

  “I’d like to volunteer too,” said Gwen. “Annie and I could take turns.”

  Mary Beth’s somber expression turned into a grateful one.

  “If you had said something when you came in, this whole thing about the play could have waited,” said Stella. “I hope you know that I’m here for you too.”

  “I do know that, Stella,” said Mary Beth. “But please don’t put off the play on my account. This just makes it all the more personal for us as a group. Please go ahead with your plans. No matter how my test turns out, I think it’s important for us to do this. Every single day, many people get this same sort of news. If we can make even a little difference by contributing something to prevent this disease now or to cure it in the future, it’s all for the better.”

  3

  With Mary Beth’s blessing, Stella continued to talk about the play and what the group could do to help. She had been confident that all the members of the Hook and Needle Club would be willing to participate, and she had already arranged for them to meet the playwright, Jacob Martin, and the director, Professor Howell, in the Cultural Center conference room the following Saturday. She had scheduled the meeting in the late afternoon so that Kate could attend after she closed up A Stitch in Time.

  After Stella confirmed that they would all be available, with the possible exception of Mary Beth since they weren’t sure how she would be feeling the day after her biopsy, she reached into a leather satchel at the side of her chair and pulled out a stack of bound papers. Passing the stack to her right, Stella said, “These are copies of the play. Take one and pass it on. I’d like you to read it by Saturday, before we meet with Jacob and Professor Howell. Also, tucked inside each one is a copy of a basic list of props that Professor Howell wrote up. As you read the play, if there is anything you notice that isn’t on the list, please add it and bring it to our attention at the meeting on Saturday.”

  As Stella spoke, Annie glanced at the title page on the cover of her copy of the play. The last line caught her by surprise; the page read:

  A mystery play in two acts:

  King Lemuel’s Treasure

  By Jacob Martin

  in loving memory of his wife and best friend,

  Ophelia Fortescue-Martin

  Fortescue? thought Annie. Wasn’t that the name of Stella’s actor friends?

  Stella continued to speak: “As you can see from the title page, it’s a mystery play.”

  “So, it’s like Murder She Wrote, or NCIS?” asked Peggy.

  “No,” answered Stella. “This is quite different. ‘Mystery play’ is a term used in the Middle Ages for plays that were presented at church festivals in England. The plays depicted events from the Bible, like the Creation, the Fall of Man, and the Flood from the Old Testament, and the Incarnation, and the Crucifixion from the New Testament. In this case, “mystery” refers to divine action in the course of human history. For a population that was largely illiterate, it was a good way to teach them about the Bible.”

  “I don’t remember any Bible story about a King Lemuel,” said Peggy.

  “He is an obscure person from the Bible, mentioned only once or twice, I believe, but if I were to tell you the play has to do with the Proverbs 31 woman, I’d wager you are all familiar with her,” said Stella.

  “You mean the woman whose ‘price is far above rubies’?” asked Gwen. She didn’t wait for an answer, but laughed and said, “I remember reading an article in a magazine a few years ago titled ‘Why I Hate the Proverbs 31 Woman.’ The writer didn’t really ‘hate’ her, she just enumerated the reasons why reading about that paragon of womanhood made her feel like she could never succeed at living up to that ideal ‘virtuous woman.’”

  “She is intimidating,” agreed Alice. “I reread those verses only a couple of months ago. She does just about everything—she gets up in the middle of the night to start preparing food so she can feed her household and the poor; she weaves cloth and sells it, and she makes all of her family’s clothing and her own; she buys land and plants fruit trees on it—or maybe it was a vineyard—I can’t remember. Anyway, the point is that she produces everything that is needed for her household, from scratch no less, and as I recall, she also manages the household finances. And on top of everything else, every word that comes out of her mouth is kind and wise. Talk about multitasking! How could any woman live up to all of that?”

  All the ladies smiled at Alice’s description, and Gwen said, “Well, I guess we would all do whatever we had to, if we lived in that time, to care for our families.”

  “The point isn’t so much about what she is doing,” said Stella, “but it’s the underlying principle—the reason why she is to be praised is because she ‘fears the Lord.’ That is, she respects His Word and takes seriously the responsibilities that are laid upon her as a wife and mother. When you read the play, I think you’ll see that this is its focus.”

  Indicating the title page, Annie said to Stella, “I noticed Jacob’s wife’s maiden name was Fortescue—is she related to your friends?”

  Stella’s expression changed. “Yes. Ophelia was their daughter. They’ve had a difficult time dealing with her death, as you can imagine. I hope being part of this production will help mend some of those wounds, not just for themselves but for their relationship with their son-in-law.”

  “Were there hard feelings between them?” asked Kate.

  Stella shook her head. “I’ve said too much. It’s not our business. Our business is to make King Lem
uel’s Treasure the best production we possibly can.” Stella paused and seemed to draw herself up even straighter. “Let’s get back to it. If you turn to page two, you’ll see the cast list—there are eight characters who have speaking parts—and then we’ll also need a small number of extras for the king’s court and a few of his subjects; the characters are described in more detail as they enter the plot, so you will see those descriptions in italics as you read through. Below the cast list is a short synopsis of the scenes, and then on the next few pages, Jacob gives a detailed description of the stage setting, including the location of doors and windows, and the placement of furniture and other props. Most of the play takes place in the great hall of the king’s castle. Because this play is based on a type of play from medieval times, you will see that Jacob has described the setting and the costumes in terms of that era rather than the time of King Solomon, the writer of Proverbs. So, our set and costumes will need to reflect a late-medieval sensibility rather than Biblical times.” Looking at Kate, she said, “I was hoping we could put your clothing design talent to good use for the costumes, Kate.”

  “That would be so much fun!” said Kate. “I can go to the library and check out some books on costumes, and I know I can get Vanessa to find resources on the Internet too. I thought this winter would be kind of quiet, but it looks like we are all going to be kept pretty busy.”

  “Don’t forget that there will also be students from the college working with us. Don’t be afraid to delegate. If this effort is to succeed, it needs to be a true collaborative effort between the students of Longfellow College and the citizens of Stony Point. I’m sure we are all going to learn a lot from this experience,” said Stella.

  Annie pulled out the list of props Professor Howell had written up and scanned through it. Included in the list was a large patterned rug. She knew that there were several large area rugs rolled up in the attic at Grey Gables. Perhaps one of them would work. There were several other items she thought she could provide, including a standing embroidery frame, which she knew she had since her grandmother had been a professional designer of embroidery and cross-stitch patterns. Also on the list was an entry for “baskets of various shapes and sizes”—there were dozens of those in the attic.

  “If anyone is interested and can come over to Grey Gables one evening—either tomorrow or Thursday—we could go through the attic to see if there is anything that we can use for the stage set. From this list, I can see right off that I have at least a couple of things that might work, and maybe more,” said Annie.

  “Sounds like a good place to start,” said Alice. “I can come either evening.”

  “Emily has rehearsal on Thursday evening—could we meet at Grey Gables tomorrow instead, after dinnertime?” asked Peggy.

  Everyone agreed to come over to Annie’s house the following evening to look through the attic for props for the play, except for Stella, who said, “I’ll leave that to you girls. I don’t do so well with stairs as I used to. I want to say again how much I appreciate your willingness to pitch in. Kate’s right—it’s going to be a busy winter, and the sooner we can get our ducks in a row, the better it will be.”

  ****

  Annie planned to spend the next morning reading the play, but before she began, she opened her Bible to Proverbs 31 to refresh her memory. There he was: King Lemuel. Annie had forgotten the first part of the chapter, where King Lemuel related his mother’s admonishment to steer clear of wine and women so that he could remain a good and just king. Annie’s memory of chapter 31 started at verse 10, where the writer launched into the qualities of “a wife of noble character” as it said in her modern translation. Alice had stated the activities of the wife pretty well; she was the ultimate multitasker—she never “ate the bread of idleness.” Annie thought it was going to be interesting to see how Jacob Martin had managed to take a few paragraphs about a king’s mother’s advice and turn it into a play.

  Annie glanced through the cast list again, wondering which parts Stella had in mind when she asked her retired actor friends to take part in the play. If Dolores Fortescue played the mother of the king, perhaps Cyril would play the part of the king’s trusted advisor—Annie hadn’t seen either of them before, but surely he couldn’t be playing the part of her son. Whatever the case, it would undoubtedly bring a much higher level of professionalism to the production to have two such seasoned actors.

  Annie had intended to take notes as she read, but she became so involved in the plot and the characters that she forgot about everything else. The story, as it was told through the dialogue, swept her along, and when she reached the dramatic denouement, she unconsciously placed one hand over her heart, blinked back a few tears, and uttered aloud, “Oh.” It was a story about loss and misunderstanding, but also the ultimate triumph of love and forgiveness. It touched Annie. She could only imagine the effect it would have in a darkened theater before an audience.

  Jacob had crafted characters that spoke to basic human concerns—choosing the right person to marry, “forsaking all others”; what it means to make a life and a home together; the loss of parents. Annie understood that loss; it wasn’t that many years ago that her own parents had passed away

  Then her mind turned to the Fortescues. How hard it must be to lose a child, even one that is grown up. That’s not the way it’s “supposed” to be. Annie tried not to think of her own daughter, LeeAnn, and how it would feel to lose her, but she couldn’t help it. She was thankful for the present good health of her family, but she knew from experience how quickly life could change. Wayne’s heart attack had happened without warning. He was gone in an instant. But losing a spouse is something different than losing a son or a daughter. A husband and wife know on some level, especially as the years go by, that inevitably, one of them will meet death first. That knowledge doesn’t lessen the pain of loss for the one left behind, but it is an underlying understanding of the nature of life.

  In the play, the king confronted his grief at the death of his mother, but also his guilt at not always having followed her wise advice. The Bible didn’t reveal the fate of King Lemuel, whether he listened to his mother or not, but Annie remembered reading about the problems that King Solomon had because of his many wives who led him to stray from God’s path. Even the very wise can fail.

  The “treasure” of King Lemuel in Jacob’s play was ultimately the wife he chose; after a few false starts, he came to realize that the value of the woman he would come to love was not in “deceptive charms” or “fleeting beauty,” but in her character as seen through her actions. This was Jacob Martin’s homage to his wife, Ophelia. She must have been someone very special for him to have written such a beautifully moving script.

  Stella had hinted at problems between Jacob and his in-laws. Though Annie didn’t know what the source of the trouble was between them, she wondered what effect the play would have on the Fortescues. They had agreed to be in the play. Annie wondered if they had read it beforehand. There was certainly nothing in the play to prevent them from being in it—for actors, Annie thought, these would be wonderful roles. Perhaps, besides being a tribute to his wife, this was Jacob’s way of reaching out to her parents.

  Annie closed the pages that had been lying open on her lap as she ran through her thoughts about the play. She began to wonder what the experience of working on the production of the play was going to be like. Would the death of Ophelia Fortescue-Martin overshadow them all, or would her life buoy them up?

  It was still morning, and having read through the play much more quickly than she had expected, Annie decided to give Alice a call to come over for dinner that evening. She didn’t answer her cellphone, so Annie had to leave a message, but Alice soon called back.

  “I’m out delivering product this morning,” said Alice, “and I have a party this afternoon, but I’ll be finished by five, I’m sure. Dinner would be great—can I bring anything?”

  “No, just bring yourself,” replied Annie. “It’s not goin
g to be anything fancy—I’m just going to make a pot of vegetable soup.”

  “Sounds perfect,” said Alice. “I’ll be there about five-thirty, quarter-to-six, then.”

  Annie's first order of business was to open the second-floor door to the narrow set of stairs that led to the attic and turn on the attic lights in hopes the space would warm a bit before the others arrived. She put the ingredients for vegetable soup in her slow cooker and spent the rest of the day doing chores around Grey Gables. The sun set shortly after four in the afternoon, and it didn't seem very long after that the doorbell rang.

  Alice had arrived at Grey Gables bundled up against the cold and snow in the same getup as Annie had seen her in the previous morning. She had changed from her dressy work clothes into jeans and a sweater suitable for rummaging through a cold attic and had brought along a sturdy pair of house shoes.

  As Alice slipped her stockinged feet into her house shoes, she took a deep breath and asked, “Is the soup ready? It smells great. I’m starving.”

  Annie had already set the large wooden kitchen table with plates, napkins, soup spoons, and a tray of cheese and crackers. She ladled out a large bowl of soup for Alice and placed it on one of the plates on the table, and then repeated the process for herself.

  “Like I said earlier,” said Annie, “it’s nothing fancy, but hot and hearty soup just sounded good to me.”

  “It’s perfect, Annie,” said Alice. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Annie. “There’s nothing cozier than a warm meal with a good friend on a cold winter evening in Maine.”

  4

  Annie and Alice had finished tidying up the kitchen after dinner and had just settled themselves on the living room sofa with Boots stretched out between them purring loudly when the doorbell rang. It was Mary Beth, Peggy, Kate, and Kate’s daughter, Vanessa, all of whom had ridden over together in Mary Beth’s SUV. As they were walking through Grey Gables’s front door, Gwen’s car pulled up in Annie’s driveway. Gwen was a close neighbor to Annie; her home, known as Wedgwood, was located on the same street—Ocean Drive—as Grey Gables. The distance normally required just a short walk in good weather, but on this night, the sky was clear and full of stars, and the temperature was dipping to near zero.