Beyond the Storm: Quilts of Love Series

by Carolyn Zane

  “Grab a plate and eat up, because I have a quilting project that needs to be accomplished in a timely manner,” Selma announced to the group. “Right after dinner, I want us to begin work on Danny’s quilt. And I know some of you are probably thinking,” she glanced at Abigail, “why on earth should we stop and make a quilt now? And my answer to that is because you need to begin putting the pieces together.”

  For the first time in her life, Abigail finally understood.

  That evening, over a hearty plate of Selma’s famous beef stroganoff, they all discussed the day’s events. Bob Ray and Justin told of the horrors and triumphs of digging people out from the rubble, and they each found scraps to add to the quilt. Assisting a neighborhood rescue crew, they’d uncovered a mother and her weeks old infant who—aside from being shaken up and hungry—were fine. Another heroic digging effort yielded three generations hiding in a wine cellar, all fine. There were other finds, some tragic, some with life-threatening injury. Justin and Bob Ray had worked feverishly together, carrying the wounded on a pallet they’d fashioned from a door and some long boards.

  As they relived the day, Abigail was touched by the respect and affection that Bob Ray was developing for Justin. It was obvious in the way the young man regarded him with awe and regaled them with tales of Justin’s bravery and quick thinking.

  “I never would have thought of carrying that one guy out on the door like that, but Justin ripped it off the frame and used a rock, man, biff, biff, biff and straightened out some nails and busted some boards and cobbled the thing together, it was awesome!” He held his hand up to high-five Justin, who was shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “We loaded that guy up and he was on his way, man!”

  “Yeah, yeah. Give it a rest,” Justin said, and waved his palms at Bob Ray.

  “Aww, dude is bashful! But seriously, guys, he was a superhero today. I was just the sidekick. Did Superman have a sidekick? I guess I was like Robin, man.”

  Heather threw back her head and laughed and Bob Ray grinned at her in delight. Their mood was contagious, and Abigail felt a reprieve from the day’s depression bubble up into her throat and spread to her lips in a smile.

  As the conversation ebbed and flowed, Abigail was enveloped in the warm, wonderful bosom of family. How had she not seen what she’d been missing, living alone and working her life away? The laughter, the camaraderie, the empathy and concern was so sweet . . . no wonder Selma had wanted a big family. Abigail angled a quick peek at Justin’s smiling face as he razzed Bob Ray. She couldn’t think of a single place in the whole world she’d rather be at the moment than crowded around Selma’s battle scarred table with each of these people. Not even time spent in her beautiful salon or in her breezy apartment or in LA with a high-paying client could trump what was happening right here. The odd thought stunned her as she glanced from face to sweet face. Strange how things that had seemed so important only a week ago paled in light of what they’d all just gone through. This, she was beginning to see, was what was important.

  Relationship. With each other.

  And—she acknowledged the niggling thought—God.

  The raucous noises of a family docked in safe harbor continued while Guadalupe whipped up a batch of triple chocolate brownies. They ate those with ice cream after the last of the stroganoff had been polished off.

  “How is Jen?” Justin was the one to finally put voice to the question that had been haunting them all. He glanced at Heather before his gaze settled on Abigail.

  Abigail and Heather exchanged sober glances. “She’s . . . coping.” Abigail filled her chest with air and slowly let it escape. “I think she’s doing a whole lot better than I would be in her shoes. What do you think, Heather?”

  “I agree.” Heather stood and went to the sink for a cloth to wipe Robbie’s face and hands of the noodles and applesauce he’d smeared on himself and his high chair tray. “We couldn’t stay too long because her entire family was starting to arrive and trying to get at her, but she made time for us.”

  “Uh-oh!” Robbie shouted and hung over his high chair, staring after the spoon he’d just dropped.

  Abigail picked up the spoon and handed it to Robbie to pound on his tray. She spread a napkin out to quiet his racket. “She was amazing. Exhausted and grieving, but there was also some joy, I think.”

  “Mm. And she said some things that were so . . .” Heather rinsed the cloth with steaming hot water and then squeezed it out in the sink, “. . . so profound. Jen has always been a rock for me. And when we went in today,” she darted a quick smile at Abigail, “I thought we’d be a rock for her, you know? But she ended up cheering us up. Can you believe that? And Bob Ray,” Heather paused and pressed the cloth to her mouth for a second, using it to stave off the tears, “she doesn’t blame us.”

  Bob Ray stood and, quickly crossing the room, swept Heather into his arms, and rocking her back and forth, buried his face in her neck.

  “She said it wasn’t our fault.” Her words were muffled by sorrow and the cotton of Bob Ray’s shirt. “It wasn’t our fault . . .”

  Abigail swallowed at the lump that surged into her throat as she listened to Heather, remembering the poignant scene of Jen, holding her tiny baby and bravely facing a life without Danny.

  “Oh,” Heather said, leaning back in her husband’s strong arms and dabbing her eyes with the washcloth, “and she wants a simple burial as soon as the funeral home can arrange it. They’re swamped now, and it’ll be family only, but she hopes that we’ll all help her plan a really special memorial service for Danny. In a few weeks. You know . . . after the dust has settled around here and everyone can come.”

  “Many hands make light work, and the same goes for quilting. That’s why, in the olden days, women would gather together for quilting bees. So you are all now part of my tornado quilting circle.”

  “Whoa,” Bob Ray joshed, “I think my biceps just shriveled up and died.”

  “Did she say man hands make light work?” Justin grinned as the entire household gathered around the kitchen table to help Selma with her project. Behind them, the dishwasher sounded like a monster truck rally, and the smells of pine cleaner radiated from the still damp floor.

  “Welcome to the quilting bee, my man.” Justin and Bob Ray tapped their knuckles together across the top of the table. The women all just sat there and rolled their eyes, feigning long-suffering forbearance at their tomfoolery.

  “We know you are looking forward to this enriching experience,” Guadalupe deadpanned and eyed each one in turn with a quelling stare.

  “I’m here for the party,” Justin said. “Show me the bee and I’ll quilt it.”

  “Okay, boys, I’m grateful for your willing hearts. Remember, this is a labor of love for our dear friend, Jen Strohacker.” Selma grabbed a shoebox from tonight’s laundry basket. “Pass these scissors out, if you will, Justin. And, Bob Ray, give everyone one of these pieces of cardstock.”

  As the guys did her bidding, Selma began to explain. “I found a pattern for our quilt,” she announced. “I figured since most of you are new to quilting, it should be something simple, and you’ll never believe what I found.” She held up a pattern. “This one is called ‘Storm Signal.’ See how the triangles and squares are light and dark and it sort of resembles a lighthouse beam? That was Danny, don’t you think? Like a beacon. You could always see the light of the Lord just beaming on his face.”

  There were murmurs of agreement as everyone inspected the pattern.

  “I’ve given each of you a piece of cardstock, printed with the pattern. Go ahead and cut it out and write your names on the back. And, while you are doing that, I want each of you to think about the bits of fabric you want to include in your square. I think this piece,” Selma held up the woven bit that had been part of Danny’s Bible cover, “will be part of the center square and will represent Danny. The surrounding squares will represent the lives that Danny influenced. Kind of like a pebble dropped in calm water, the sq
uares will ripple outward. I have already spoken to several other friends of Dan and Jen’s who want to contribute squares. The fabric that Abby found the night of the storm will be used both in the squares and in the border. I’m hoping to complete the project in time to present it to Jen, from all of us, at the memorial service.”

  Brow puckered, Abigail stared at the pattern and thought about all the lives that Danny had touched. This quilt could be huge. But it would be beautiful. She looked up to see the tops of heads as everyone bent over their scissors, and a giggle squeaked from between her lips, surprising her.

  “What are you laughing at,” Justin asked, suspiciously.

  “This reminds me of kindergarten,” she admitted.

  “If we were in kindergarten, I’d have cut my bangs off by now,” Heather said.

  “I seem to remember that look,” Bob Ray mused. “It was very sexy.”

  The silly conversation continued as they worked. When they’d finished their patterns, Selma showed everyone how to select the colors to best highlight the design. They all sorted through her remnant basket and looked for ideas. Justin got the shirt that he’d worn the night Jen had the baby and cut a big chunk out of the center of the back.

  Abigail stared at the gaping hole and laughed.

  “What?”

  “Well, you can’t wear that again,” she chided.

  “Why not?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Next time, you might take a small piece off the tail, or something,” she advised.

  Justin rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah. Like there’s gonna be a next time.”

  “I don’t know, my man,” Bob Ray said. “This is kind of fun.”

  Abigail was amazed at how much everyone was enjoying the project. The hours flew by and when bedtime rolled around, even though everybody was exhausted from a long, emotional day, they were all reluctant to stop and head off to bed.

  Early Tuesday morning, before they each set off to lend the community a helping hand, Abigail spread out her storm scraps and mulled them over.

  Justin sat next to her, watching and offering his thoughts. “Since Danny was in the military, that piece of the flag would be good in his square, huh?” he asked.

  “What’s the rule on dealing with a flag after it’s been ruined? I mean, don’t you have to dispose of it in some special way?” Abigail wondered as she walked her fingers over raised threads of the stars.

  “I think it would be fine to make an exception with this small piece. Danny loved his country and this would symbolize that.”

  “Mm. I think that’s really nice.”

  Later, Abigail realized that if a time-lapse camera had been set up over the table, it would have told the tale of the numerous comings and goings of Danny’s loved ones. Word of the quilt had spread, and people came by with stories and bits of fabric. Over iced tea and cookies, they would share their thoughts and memories as they selected fabrics from Selma’s yardage to go with their offerings.

  When Kaylee stopped by, she spotted the shreds from the bodice of her wedding dress. “Abigail told me she found this over by the cleaners.” She fingered the lavishly beaded crewel work with a soft smile. “The plastic must have kept this part clean.” From her purse she pulled several pieces she’d found in a drawer at the new house. “The black satin was leftover from Chaz’s cummerbund and I also brought some of the wool that the tailor trimmed from his cuffs.” Making herself at home, Kaylee picked up a pair of scissors and went to work cutting and pinning the middle of her square.

  Kaylee’s ideas inspired Elsa, and she began to work with the scrap that Selma had torn from the bottom of her prom dress the night of the storm. “This piece is a little bit stained with mud, but I like that,” Elsa mused. “It tells a story. Sometimes beautiful things get ugly, before they get beautiful again.”

  Brows raised, Guadalupe and Kaylee stared at the child before they exchanged glances that spoke of how impressed they were with the depth of her thought process.

  “Beautiful, Elsa,” Selma murmured and kissed the girl’s temple.

  Tuesday evening, after another grueling day working the neighborhoods and searching for fewer and fewer survivors, everyone gathered after dinner to work on the quilt. As they pinned and basted their pieces together, they talked. There was a little bit of good news to celebrate, families reunited, people found, some rescued, help arriving in droves from out of state. But mostly, it was bad. Death and destruction and broken hearts everywhere.

  The conversation twisted and turned and always seemed to flow back to Danny. Elbows resting on the table, Abigail cupped her chin in her hand and listened to Justin pour his grief out to Selma as they bent over his square, easing the material into the proper shape. “I feel guilty because I feel sorry for me. It’s weird but I’m almost mad at Danny for getting under a trailer in the middle of a tornado. Talk about stupid.”

  “I think your feelings are pretty normal, honey. But I also see something else going on here,” Selma said as she guided his hand. She was teaching him to baste.

  “Tell me. Please.” Justin tossed his square down and, leaning back in his chair, looked to Selma for answers.

  “Well, I know you and Danny were very close and he was a great mentor for you. But, now that he’s gone, I think maybe the Lord would appreciate your full attention. Sometimes, in the midst of the most serious trouble, we can’t seem to reach the ones we usually depend on and I think it’s because God wants us to talk to, and depend on, Him. Another of my favorite Corrie ten Boom quotes is ‘You may never know that Jesus is all you need, until Jesus is all you have.’”

  Justin slowly nodded and his eyes grew glassy with thought. “Um-hm.”

  “You know, sometimes the Lord will use the circumstances to help you lean on Him. Why do you suppose Danny was so close to the Lord? Maybe it was because he had no siblings or family to turn to for most of his childhood, so he had to turn to the Lord. And, the better he knew Him, the more he wanted to know Him. Interesting, don’t you think?”

  Wednesday morning, Isuzu brought over some swatches to contribute to the quilt; pieces of the kids’ skating costumes, some red and gold fabric from the Sakura Garden’s window dressings, among other bits and pieces that symbolized her family’s connection to Danny. “Tyler want this in quilt,” Isuzu said and held up a bit of ribbon from a medal the kids had won in a recent skating competition. “Because he say Danny was champion youth group leader. Tyler say nobody tell a Bible story the way Danny bring it to life.”

  As she spoke, she began to blink rapidly and her lips quivered. Losing battle with sorrow, Isuzu buried her head in her hands and cried. “This morning, they find Nick’s body. Brooke say, Auntie Zuzu, I am glad that Danny go with Nick up to heaven . . . together. She feeling very much depressed and crying hard about Nick. She send this ribbon from corsage Nick give her. She want it in her square.”

  Abigail’s heart squeezed as she rubbed Isuzu’s back with one hand and fingered the satiny smooth strip of pink with the other. Again, she was impressed by the love Danny inspired. If it had been her, what kind of legacy would she have left? Shame kindled her cheeks. It would be nothing compared to Danny’s. Her relationships tended to be superficial because she preferred it that way. That, she had told herself more than once, was all she had time for. She’d been too busy building her career to care about the people in her life enough to even ask after them when they were suffering. That was going to change. Starting now. “How are your brother and sister-in-law doing?”

  Isuzu sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. “We all move into nice rental house. Share for now.” As she described the house, Isuzu finished cutting out her pattern and wrote her name on the back of each square before she began to sort her fabrics. “This sound strange, but my sister-in-law, Mieko, is good. Very, very good. No restaurant, no skating, no school. She stay at hospital today, like big mother chicken, with wings spread over chicks. She tell me she happy for no more pressure. Perfect excuse. No Olympics beca
use kids are broken. She say to me, ‘Zuzu! For first time, I feel like kids are my kids and not belong to public. I never am so happy.’” Isuzu pinned a piece of her pattern to a bit of fabric and began to trim the edges. “I think this very good. I think Jesus happy that Mieko get her babies back. Haruo still in shock over restaurant, but like to cook at home, too. They will make new restaurant.”

  “They are going to rebuild? That’s really brave.”

  “New restaurant will be nice. Maybe better. So. Will you make new salon for Zuzu?” She was staring so hard at Abigail that Abigail had to laugh.

  “I’m thinking it over . . . I don’t know. My mother wants me to move out to California. And Zuzu, it’s safe there. They don’t get tornados.”

  “True. Get giant earthquake. Knock you house over flat.”

  Abigail pondered that for a second. “Yeah. I guess so. On the other hand, I do have a job offer there . . . but, you know Zuzu, the more I think about what I used to believe was important— beauty and beautiful people—I just don’t crave it anymore. It all just seems so silly now. On the other hand, I don’t have anything here, really . . .”

  Isuzu stared at her. “I am chopped liver? You have big business here. Cut hair now in Selma kitchen until you build new shop. Okay. Good. I will rent a space from Selma for now and go back to work. Soon, huh?”

  “But—”

  “Shh. I think you stay here. In Rawston,” she whispered. “Marry Handsome-guy and you fight all day on phone.” Isuzu’s face scrunched and she laughed herself half silly.

  Abigail groaned. Arguing with Isuzu was futile, so she changed the subject. “Zuzu, I was just thinking about something nice you and I might do for Brooke.”

  Isuzu stopped laughing and looked up from the fabric she held in surprise.

  Abigail tossed her scissors into her sewing basket. “It sounds like she’s going to be in bed for a while and I was thinking. Let’s go to the beauty supply up in Southshire and get some nice lotion and facial stuff, and we’ll make her feel pretty. What do you say?”