Sarah took the book but decided to wait to pick out the fabrics. She hadn’t been inside Charles’s house and didn’t know what colors he might prefer. She went across the street to the café and sat down with a cup of tea and opened the book. She read that some of the quilts made during the Civil War period were extremely detailed with lots of appliqué and were designed to raise money for the war effort. But others were simple cot quilts and made quickly for their men to take with them. Tears came to her eyes as she read that many of these men and boys were wrapped in their blood-stained quilts when they were buried.
She decided to follow one of the cot patterns but to make it wider. Most authentic cot quilts were long and narrow to fit the soldiers’ cots, but she wanted Charles to be able to use it on his bed. She wondered about his bed but quickly stopped wondering because that caused her mind to wander into areas she was still avoiding. Instead, she started reading about the pattern she liked and discovered that, in addition to the cot size, there were instructions for other sizes, including a full-queen. She decided that would probably be just right.
“You’re back,” Ruth said with surprise as Sarah returned to the shop. “Did you forget something?”
Sarah smiled and said, “Remember that fabric I was going to buy later? Well, I guess it’s ‘later’ because I’m back to get it.” Both women laughed. Sarah spent almost two hours pulling bolts out and lining them up on the cutting table. She decided it didn’t matter about his colors because this was going to be a scrap quilt made of many colors. The blocks were made of four patches set on point with setting triangles. They were arranged in lengthwise strips separated by a wide sashing strip. She wasn’t sure about the setting triangles, but Ruth assured her it would be easy once she learned how.
Sarah chose a tone-on-tone green for the sashing strips and a brown for the setting triangles. The four patches were made from the many fat quarters she chose to give it a scrappy look. “It’s hard to believe woman were able to throw this quilt together overnight.”
“Don’t forget, in those days, quilts were made by all the women in the family, plus their friends and neighbors. Also, don’t forget that you have the Friday night group to help out.”
Sarah left excited about her project. She didn’t realize it was nighttime already. She was glad she brought her car, not only because it was dark, but because she now had a large bag of fabric to carry.
Sarah arrived home later than usual and had neglected to leave the outside light on. She had trouble lining the key up with the lock but then realized the door was slightly ajar. “It wasn’t even closed? How can that be?” she said aloud.
She heard Barney barking as he rushed to the door. He nervously ran back and forth between Sarah and her bedroom door. “What is it, Barney? Are you pretending to be Lassie?” she teased. “Is Timmy in the well?”
Barney didn’t smile. He was tense and continued to pace between Sarah and the door to her bedroom.
Thinking about the front door being ajar, she suddenly became tense herself. Is someone in the house?
She turned the lights on in the living room and picked up her umbrella. Then she put it down, realizing that it was too flimsy to be of any protection. She picked up the ceramic umbrella stand instead and approached the bedroom door.
She saw the outline of a man as she reached for the light switch and clicked it on. Her dresser drawers had been emptied onto the floor, and the man had pulled everything out of the closet. Her suitcases were open and scattered around the room. The mattress had been pulled off the bed.
The man turned, and she saw his face. Her legs went weak, and the ceramic jar crashed to the floor as she started to fall. She grabbed for the door frame to steady herself.
The man lunged for her, she screamed, and Barney lunged for the man.
One second later the man was on his back, and Barney had him by the throat. A low growl emerged from deep within Barney’s throat. The man didn’t move, and neither did Barney. Sarah watched with disbelief.
“Andy?” she asked cautiously. “Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” he said struggling to get free. “Get this dog off me before he kills me.”
“But Andy ... you’re dead. I was at your funeral.” She tried to get her thoughts together but couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. Andy appeared to be on her floor beneath Barney, but she knew it couldn’t be possible. “I saw Andy in his casket. I saw him lowered into the ground,” she cried. “You’re not Andy. Who are you?” Am I losing my mind? Is this a hallucination?
“Sarah, I implore you. Get this creature off of me. I can feel his teeth closing on my throat. He’s going to kill me.”
“Tell me first who you are,” Sarah demanded with a trembling voice.
The man hesitated, for he knew the dog was capable of killing him in an instant. He had to get Sarah calm enough to call the dog off. He lay very still and tried to relax his muscles, knowing the dog would sense the change. As he did, he felt the dog relax ever so slightly.
“I’m Andy, and I’m not dead. It was a mistake.” He said gently. After a few moments, he continued, “I came for the quilt, Sarah. That’s all. I came to get the quilt and leave before anyone saw me. Please Sarah, the dog? I’ll explain when I get up.”
Sarah listened. A mistake? She knew there was no mistake. He was dead, buried, and mourned. She was there. But she needed to hear what this man had to say. And she didn’t know for sure that Barney wouldn’t kill him. She decided to call the dog off, knowing he would come to her rescue if the man made a wrong move. “Barney, it’s okay. Come here.”
Barney reluctantly removed his mouth from the man’s throat and moved to the side, but he didn’t go to Sarah. He stayed within inches of the man’s face. The man began to move very slowly. Barney crouched low and growled. His lips quivered, and his teeth glistened.
“It’s okay, Barney,” Sarah said. “Let the man up.” The man slowly rose to his knees but stopped when he heard the growl intensify. He watched the dog cautiously. The dog stood with his front legs apart, slightly bent forward. His lips quivered. Saliva slithered from between his teeth and fell to the floor.
The man looked at Sarah pleadingly and said, “Please Sarah. Where’s my quilt? That’s all I came for, and I’ll leave.”
“Tell me who you really are,” Sarah demanded while trembling and still holding onto the wall for balance. Then it hit her. “Wait. I know. You’re his brother.” She had heard he had a brother, and she thought she remembered that he was a twin. That could explain it, she thought.
“Of course,” Sarah exclaimed with growing confidence. “That’s who you are. You’re Andy’s brother.” She felt relieved for a moment once she knew she wasn’t dealing with the living dead but then remembered that his brother was in prison for murder. If this was his brother, then she was alone with a murderer. She tensed up again, and Barney followed suit.
“Stay away from me,” she demanded, looking toward Barney for support. Barney, again, began to growl.
“I’m Andy, Sarah. I don’t know how I can prove it. Wait, yes I do. Sophie introduced us. ...” He paused and then added eagerly, “... I taught you how to use the computer ... we went to the community pool together ...” He paused again to see her reaction. She was listening. “See, Sarah. I know you.” The man slowly got up on his feet watching Barney as he moved. Barney continued to growl and never took his eyes off the man. “I’m Andy,” the man said again, softly. “Please believe me, Sarah.”
“Then explain how I saw you in the coffin. I just don’t understand. Are you alive? Are you real?” She felt herself becoming hysterical again and knew she had to maintain control. “I have to call Sophie,” she said, moving toward the living room.
“Stop Sarah,” the man demanded. She froze, and Barney tensed. Then in a softer tone, he said, “I know I’ve frightened you, Sarah. And I’m so very sorry. Please, let’s go into the living room and sit down. I’ll explain everything, you can get the quilt f
or me, and I promise to leave as long as you promise not to tell anyone I was here.” He then muttered to himself, “It just might work as long as no one else sees me.”
“And if I just start screaming?”
“I guess I would have to kill you,” he responded reluctantly. Sarah noticed he was beginning to tremble.
“You would kill me? You would actually kill me?” Sarah said in disbelief. “Then you are certainly not Andy. Andy would never kill me. He’s no killer. That means you must be his brother. He’s the killer.” She was inching her way toward the living room, and the man was doing the same while keeping a close eye on the dog.
Barney moved with them but remained close to the man. When the man reached the living room, Barney posted himself two feet away, and the low growl continued to exude from deep within his throat.
Suddenly, the man began to look disoriented. Sweat ran down his forehead, and his hands shook. “Oh god, what am I doing?” Sarah lowered herself onto the couch slowly. The man collapsed next to her with his face in his hands. Barney moved closer to him, and his raised lip began to quiver.
Turning to Sarah, the man pleaded, “Sarah, please believe me. I’m Andy. You didn’t see me dead. That was my brother, George. I killed him.” He began to sob.
“Your brother George?” she asked skeptically. “But the body was found in your house. We all thought ...”
“I know. I know.” His hands covered his face as he shook his head side to side in resignation and continued to sob. “I know.” Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I knew you all thought I was dead, and I let you think that.” He attempted to pull himself together as he wiped at the tears with his shirt sleeve. He looked at her apologetically. “I’ve hurt everyone I care about.”
He paused and then added pleadingly, “I’m in such a mess, Sarah. I’ve done everything wrong. You were my friend, and I’m so sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I frightened you tonight. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. But please let me explain.”
Sarah’s head was beginning to clear. She looked into his eyes and realized this was definitely Andy sitting next to her. She knew him, and she could sense his compassion. George may be a killer, but this man was not. The man sitting next to her was suffering from guilt and fear. She knew this was Andy. But what, she wondered ...
She put her hand on his shoulder and softly said, “Andy.” He turned to her, and she put her arm around him.
He laid his head against her chest and sobbed, “What have I done? What have I done?”
Sarah sat with him and let him sob until he became still. He finally lifted his head and said he was sorry. “I hate being like this, Sarah. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so confused, and I don’t know how to straighten things out. I don’t even think it’s possible.”
“Would you feel better if you had the quilt in your hands?” Sarah asked.
“I guess. I kept thinking the quilt could help me solve my problems, but I know that’s not true anymore.” Andy hung his head and looked utterly defeated.
“I think you should go get the quilt. I’ll hold Barney here so he doesn’t attack you again. Okay?” Sarah suggested, while gently guiding Barney close to her legs holding his collar. She pushed Andy’s hair off his forehead and gently patted his cheek. “Go get it and we’ll talk more.”
“Okay,” Andy said reluctantly. “Where is it?”
“Go into my sewing room. It’s to the left of the bathroom,” she said, pointing toward the room. “In that room, you’ll see a large oak cabinet. Your quilt is on the bottom shelf under a couple of blankets.”
“Will you wait right here?” he asked with fear in his voice. His hands were trembling.
“Of course I will. I’ll be right here holding Barney,” she assured him.
Andy walked toward the sewing room but looked back to be sure Barney wasn’t following him. A few moments later Sarah heard him open the cabinet doors. Sarah carefully slipped the cell phone from her pocket and pressed “1.” When Charles answered, she whispered, “Come quickly. Don’t knock. Just come in silently. I need your help.” She pressed the off button and quickly returned the phone to her pocket. She felt a pang of disloyalty because Andy trusted her, but she wasn’t sure she could trust him.
Sarah, still holding Barney’s collar, moved into the kitchen and took a platter of roast beef out of the refrigerator. She got bread from the bread box and began making two sandwiches. She poured a large glass of milk.
“Where did you go?” Andy shouted apprehensively as he returned to the living room. Barney tensed and, again, began to growl. Sarah held his collar and reassured him.
“I’m in the kitchen, Andy. It’s okay. Come in here, and we’ll have a bite to eat and talk. I made you a sandwich and a glass of milk.” He stared at the table as if he didn’t know what to do next. “Sit down, and we’ll talk. I want to know everything that happened. We’ll figure this out together like you said.” Sarah, seeing that he was still trembling, tried to appease him, knowing that he was on the edge and could lose control at any moment.
He sat but didn’t move toward the food. “Can I get you something different?” Sarah asked.
“I just want to get myself together. I can’t think. Could we, maybe, have some coffee?” he asked timidly.
“Of course,” she said gently to the man who had just threatened her life. Am I crazy to trust him?
She started the coffee and placed two cups on the table. She wondered if he might have a gun. The image of Charles walking in and Andy shooting him flashed across her mind, and for a moment she wished she hadn’t called. But then she realized that he probably didn’t have a gun, or he would have pulled it out by now. She hoped she hadn’t placed Charles’s life in danger. And she hoped she wasn’t placing her own life in danger.
“Do you want to open the quilt box?” Sarah asked.
“No. I want to explain what I’ve done. The quilt doesn’t even matter anymore.” Andy hung his head and looked dejected.
“Talk when you feel like it, Andy,” she said softly as she joined him at the table.
“I don’t know where to start.” Barney sat vigilantly about two feet from Andy’s chair. He never took his eyes off Andy.
“Start at the beginning,” Sarah said. “The last time I saw you, you were going away for a few days, and you left your quilt with me. Start there.”
“Yes, the quilt.” He started to become agitated again. “Maybe I should take it and go.”
“Andy, please just talk. You said you would tell me what happened. You have the quilt. It’s yours. But it would be cruel to leave me without explaining what happened to you and whose funeral I went to.”
“Okay. Well, I left the quilt here and went home to pack for my trip to Florida.” He became quiet. He sipped his coffee, but the food remained untouched. After a few minutes, he continued. “No ... it started before that. My brother called that afternoon. I thought he was still in prison, but he said he had been released. He probably escaped, but whatever. Anyway, he said he wanted the tie quilt. I asked him why, and he said it was none of my business. We argued. It wasn’t really a big thing. He could have the quilt. It was just the way he was demanding it. It made me mad, and I told him he couldn’t have it. We never got along.” He fooled with his shirt sleeve and his watch. He was becoming agitated again.
Sarah listened intently, both to Andy and for signs of Charles coming in. “Go on ...”
“So anyway, I had already gone to bed. It was sometime around 1:00 in the morning that I heard him banging on the door. He was drunk and loud. I opened the door, and he pushed past me and starting tearing up my house. He kept demanding to have the quilt. By the way, Sarah,” he said, looking up at Sarah with sorrow in his eyes. “I’m so very sorry I involved you in this, but that’s the reason I brought the quilt to your house. I was afraid he would come after it.”
“Why did he want the quilt so badly?” she asked.
“Well, he finally told me, but he was yelling and tear
ing up my place while he talked. He said our grandfather had left a lot of money, but he didn’t trust banks. He put it in a safe deposit box somewhere. He said grandma sewed the key into the tie quilt. I don’t know how he knew that. I never heard that story. It might not even be true.”
“What does this have to do with your not being dead?” Sarah asked. As she spoke, she heard a sound in the living room. She said, “Oh, the coffee is ready,” and she hopped up to fill the cups as a distraction so Andy didn’t notice the sound. But she had forgotten about Barney, who went running into the living room wagging his tail and greeting Charles enthusiastically. Andy jumped up and grabbed a carving knife from the knife block on the counter. When Charles turned the corner he was facing Andy and the knife.
Sarah’s heart sank. She could only hope that his experience as a police officer would help him to defuse the situation. Andy was again panicking. “Who are you?” Andy demanded. His hand trembled so bad that the knife was in constant motion.
“He’s a friend of mine, Andy,” Sarah said calmly. “A good friend. He can help us figure this out. Please, just let him sit down at the table with us. He’s a very smart man. He can help.”
“Andy?” Charles said skeptically, looking at Sarah. “Not the dead Andy?”
“Yes, Charles. As it turns out, Andy isn’t actually dead.”
“This should be good.” Turning to Andy, he said, “That shaking knife makes me really nervous. Do you think you could at least lay it down on the table over there? Right now it’s pointing at me, and I have a nervous stomach. You know how that is ...” he said congenially.
As Andy glanced toward the table nervously, Charles used his cane to hit the arm holding the knife. Barney jumped right into the ruckus and, again, had Andy on the floor by his throat.
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