Lover's Knot (21 page)

“I am less to you than your job. I am at most a convenience, somebody who pays half the mortgage, somebody you can take out to dinner and have sex with, or at least somebody you
used
to. I’m fine in my place, but that place doesn’t include anything resembling intimacy. And when I become an inconvenience, I’m easy to sweep under the rug.”

His mother’s whispers died. He heard his own voice on the day he had taken Kendra home from the rehab unit.
I think Kendra and I can work things out together. We always have
.

And Dr. Gupta’s response.
Have you? I wonder. Or, like most people, have you merely ignored the fragments that don’t fit into the picture you hold of your marriage?

“Why am I here, then?” he asked. “Why did I come all this way? Or am I too clueless to understand that, as well?”

“You came because you’re basically a good person, and even you can’t ignore the fact that the last time I needed you, you were too busy to help.”

“I dropped everything after your phone call that night and drove like a maniac to get to the pharmacy.” He leaned forward, too. “And how was I to know you’d behave like an idiot and try to get the prescription when you should never,
never
have been behind the wheel of a car?”

“You really don’t know me very well, do you? Do you have
any
idea how much it cost me just to ask for your help? I mean, this isn’t a relationship where we really reach out to each other, is it. We’re fine as long as we’re both pulling equal weight. That’s the way we wanted it.”

“
We
. You said it.
We
wanted it that way. Apparently that was the deal we made.”

“And what a deal, huh? All the good stuff and none of the bad. Did we take for better or for worse out of the vows we made? I can’t remember. Of course, the ceremony was so casual, I don’t think there was much in the way of vows. We pretty much just signed our names. Symbolic, isn’t it?”

“I tried to help!”

“You were just a little late. How many times that night did you think of me at home, sick as a dog? None, right? None until I called that last time and made it clear I’d had it with your excuses. So you got in your car, just like you got in your car tonight. Not because of love, Isaac. Because of guilt. And I don’t want your guilt. And I don’t want a marriage where the real vow is that we’ll enjoy the better times and ignore the worse. I don’t want it!”

“Great. Fine.” He leapt to his feet. “You’ve made that clear a couple of times now. You don’t want the marriage, you don’t want me. Who starts the paperwork?”

“No, it’s not going to be that easy. You can pretend you don’t hear me, but I’m going to make this
perfectly
clear. I don’t want this marriage the way it is. I’ve never said I don’t want
you
.” Her face grew paler. “I will not divorce you over a misunderstanding. So let me lay it out. I need somebody I can count on, somebody who isn’t a stranger to me. All these years I was willing to settle for whatever part of you I could have. But not anymore!”

“This is so much psychological claptrap.” He was furious now, so angry that he couldn’t even sort through her words. “You don’t want me, you want a perfect man who doesn’t have a life.”

“No, I want a man who has both. A life
and
a marriage, with one enriching the other!”

“What do you want me to do? Hang on your every word?”

“I want you to share what’s in your heart. I want you to share what’s in mine.”

“Oh, that makes it a lot clearer!” He was shouting now, angrier than he remembered being since adolescence.

“You want an example? Here’s one. I’d like to know why this is the first time in all the years we’ve been together that we’ve had a real fight.”

“We’ve argued plenty of times.”

“This is not an argument!”

“What, do you want me to analyze myself right here and now? Share every little suspicion and inkling?”

“Damn it, yes, I would!” She was shouting now, too.

“Okay, because I am not my father! I will never raise a hand to a woman, not as long as I live! I will never hurt you the way he hurt my mother!”

She stared at him.

He was breathing hard now, and his hands were balled into fists. But he hadn’t moved closer to her. A minute passed, then two. Little by little his fists uncurled and his breathing slowed.

“You are
not
your father,” she said softly. “You are
nothing
like him and never will be. And I will
never
have any reason to be frightened of you, no matter how angry you are. Apparently I trust you more than you trust yourself.”

He felt as if someone had cracked his chest and laid his heart out to be clinically examined.

He was outside before he even realized he was on the way. He took the porch steps two at a time and strode the distance to his car, then he leaned against the hood and crossed his arms over his fantasy wound.

“You’d better not hurt her.”

Isaac whirled and saw a slim figure in the darkness. The figure moved closer. Isaac saw it was a boy in his early teens, a boy holding his hands away from his sides like a gunslinger about to draw a weapon.

“You hit her?” the boy asked.

Isaac stared up at the stars. “Of course not.”

“You’re sure?”

As odd as the question was, Isaac thought about it a while. “No, I would never hit her.”

The words were strangely freeing. He had not so much as grabbed his wife’s shoulder. As furious as he had been, he had never considered touching her. He wasn’t stupid. He knew his childhood had deeply affected him. But had he ever fully realized how terrified he was that any display of anger would turn him into Colonel Grant Taylor? That this distrust of his own emotions was part of the legacy his adopted father had left him? Fear that at every disappointment, every misstep, every missed opportunity, he, like the colonel, would strike out at the people he was supposed to love?

“She okay?” the boy asked.

“You’re Caleb, aren’t you,” he said, remembering the name Elisa had mentioned on the telephone.

“So?”

“Thanks for helping Kendra. I’m Isaac, her husband. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“You were shouting at her.”

“We’re angry at each other right now. Very angry.”

“No call to shout at a woman.”

“Sometimes people don’t know how else to get things said.”

“How come she lives here all alone if she’s got a husband?”

He weighed his answer. He didn’t know this boy, but he sensed no harm in the question. After the evening’s episode, Caleb had elected himself Kendra’s protector. Instinctively, Isaac knew that this boy saw himself as a protector of all things weaker. He also guessed there had been far too many times in Caleb’s short life that there hadn’t been anyone weaker than himself.

Isaac could recognize a kindred spirit.

“I work in the city,” Isaac said. “She came out here to recover from an injury. I’ll be coming and going.”

“She needs somebody to help her.”

“I’m staying until she can get around on her own.”

“Staying and shouting.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s late, and somebody somewhere’s worried about you. Do they know you’re gone?”

Caleb didn’t answer.

“I’ll take good care of her,” Isaac said at last. “I promise.”

“You’d better.”

Isaac watched the boy fade back into the shadows. Until he could summon the strength to go inside and face his wife, he stood perfectly still and remembered himself as a boy like Caleb, disappearing into the shadows of a world where he had been powerless and alone.

T
he next morning Kendra woke up alone. Isaac had carried her to bed, but after their fight, conversation had been perfunctory. He had helped her into a nightgown and performed his nursing duties like a pro. In the middle of the night, when she had woken in pain, he’d gotten up to give her more pills. At that point he’d been sleeping beside her. She did remember that much.

Now, as she levered herself to a sitting position, both the ankle and wrist throbbed unmercifully. Isaac chose that moment to return with a tray.

“Hey, I was going to help you.”

She was wary. “It’s okay. I made it. I wasn’t sure—”

“If I was here? Of course I’m here. I’m staying until you’re on your feet again. That’s that.”

She didn’t want a repeat of last night’s fight. She had criticized him for not talking about the things that mattered, but she wasn’t much better at talking than he was. She was emotionally drained.

“What about work?” she asked. “I can do some here. Heather volunteered to bring anything I need. I made breakfast. You don’t have many groceries.”

“I planned to shop this morning. Are the workers here?”

“Not yet.”

“That smells good.”

“Coffee. Toast. Yogurt. No wonder you’re so skinny.” She raised a brow. “Skinny?” He’d said it almost playfully. And how long had it been since they’d teased each other about anything?

“I’m going to fatten you up. I remember a more well-rounded woman. I plan to find her.”

“The neighbors have been stuffing me like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

“They’ve been bringing you food, but have you been eating it?”

“Some.”

Isaac set the tray on the bed beside her. “You have a doctor’s appointment at nine-thirty. Elisa persuaded him it’s an emergency.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready.”

“I know. I’ll make sure of it.”

He did. She ate; then he helped her into the bathroom again, helped her dress, helped her to the car. He sat patiently in the waiting room, helped her into an examination room, then took her over to the hospital for the X-rays the doctor agreed that she needed. Afterward he took her back to the office to have her wrist and ankle wrapped and crutches issued, then to the pharmacy.

By the time Isaac had scooped her up and carried her up the stairs of the cabin and into the living room, the workers were busily excavating the hillside, and Kendra was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open.

“One of these should help.” Isaac stood in front of her with a glass of water and a pill. “It must hurt like hell.”

She swallowed the prescription painkiller greedily.

“I’d ask if you want a nap, but you won’t be able to sleep with that racket outside. Let me know when you’re ready for lunch.”

“Not for a while.”

Someone knocked at the front door, interrupting any new forays into polite chitchat. She was supremely grateful. The effort of pretending everything was fine was exhausting her.

Isaac went to the door and let Sam in. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt with “Blessed Are They Who Can Laugh at Themselves, for They Shall Never Cease to be Amused” written across the front.

“I got the blow-by-blow from Elisa,” he said, bending over to kiss her on the cheek. “How are you doing?”

“Elisa had it nailed. No broken bones, just sprains. Rest, painkillers and immobilization for a while. But I’ll be fine.”

“Good. Do you two need anything?”

“Isaac’s promised to get some groceries later.”

“How much later?” Sam asked him.

“I thought I’d go this afternoon,” Isaac said.

“Feel like going for a run with me in the meantime? It’s my day off.”

Isaac looked as if somebody had just offered him a gold mine. Then, carefully, he shook his head. “I’d better—”

“You’d better go,” Kendra said. “Or I’ll get up and shove you out the door with my crutches. I need some time to moan without anybody listening.”

“You’re sure?”

She wasn’t sure which was harder. Saying all the things that still had to be said or politely dancing around them. She only knew she was so worn out that having Isaac gone for a while was the antidote. “Go.”

“I’ll change and be right with you.” Isaac left for the bedroom.

“How’s it really going?” Sam asked once the door had closed behind Isaac.

“It’s going to be a long road or a short side trip. I don’t know which.” She was sure he knew what she meant.

“It took you a long time to get where you are. It’ll take a long time to go somewhere else. ‘The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.’”

“Straight from one of your Tshirts?”

“From Lao Tzu by way of a T-shirt. I’ll take care of Isaac, you take care of yourself.”

The two men left together. Kendra could hear workmen shouting in the back and the incessant drone of heavy machinery. But the painkiller had begun to do its job. She felt almost comfortable for the first time since she’d fallen. She closed her eyes.

Another knock sounded. Her eyelids flew open and she called, “Come in.”

Helen stepped into the room. “What’s this I hear about you getting hurt again?”

“Is there a neon sign by the roadside?”

“Now you’re getting smart with me.”

“I just feel pretty stupid, that’s all.”

“From what I hear, you surely ought to.” Helen came in and made herself at home in a chair. “The Claibornes told Cissy. I guess they drug it out of Caleb last night. The boy’s not much for talking.”

“If it weren’t for him, I might still be lying in the woods.”

“You’d have got yourself up here some way or t’other.”

Kendra appreciated that no-nonsense statement of confidence. She noted Helen was carrying a grocery bag, but she knew better than to ask what was inside. Helen would tell her when she was good and ready. She settled for gossip instead.

“Elisa told me Caleb’s story. How long has he been here?”

“Let’s see, it’s May now. He come just after Christmas, from over Norfolk way. Cissy, well, you never seen anybody as glad as she was to see that boy. Of course Caleb doesn’t remember her. He was too little when they were separated.”

“Is he doing okay with the Claibornes? Elisa said he’s having problems adjusting.”

“Marian and Ron, well, I never seen people try harder. I think if he burned down their house, they’d just ask him to help build another one. Not that he’d do a thing like that, mind you. But that’s just to say they’ll stick with him, no matter. They have three sons. They know what boy trouble looks like.”

“They sound like good people.”

“Cissy worries about him.”

Kendra understood that too well. She was going to worry about Caleb, too. She searched for a less emotional subject. “How was your trip? Did they treat you well at the Quilt Museum?”

“They like to have sucked every single thing I know about quilts out of this brain of mine. I’d be surprised if anything’s left.”

“That’s the best way to keep history alive.”

“I brought
you
a little history. And a casserole, too. Don’t you dare fuss over it, either. It’s just macaroni and cheese I made first thing after I heard, but the quilters’ll be coming by with more. So you won’t have to worry about cooking for a while.”

Kendra reached over and squeezed Helen’s hand. “You’re all so good to me. I think I owe you about a hundred meals.”

“Give or take.”

“My husband’s here, and he’ll be taking care of me, but he can’t cook worth a darn.”

“Time he learned.” Helen took a plastic storage container from the grocery bag and set it on Kendra’s lap. “These are for you.”

Kendra could see fabric inside, but she was mystified. She unsealed the top and pulled out a stack of quilt blocks, setting them on her lap. “Well, would you look at these.”

“They been cluttering up my sewing room for longer than you’ve been alive. If I haven’t got to them by now, I never will.”

Kendra thumbed through the blocks. They were shades of brown, dusty pink, blue and plain muslin. Best of all, they were signature blocks. Names were penned somewhere on the muslin, each with a short Bible quote above it. Each quote was different, and so was each pattern.

She looked up. “Where did they come from?”

“My mama sewed a little for money. I think somebody gave ’em to her to put together and quilt, although these were already old by then. From the colors and all, I’d say they’re from the early 1900s. I recognize most of the names, folks from over near Strasburg. Used to be an old German church between here and there. I’m guessing the blocks came from them. Anyway, Mama took sick, then she died. Nobody ever come bothering us about them after that, and I was too busy to go searching up names. These women who signed this, they were old as the hills when I was still a girl. Maybe they were making it to give somebody who died before Mama could get to it. Whatever happened, there’s nobody left to ask.”

“You’re not going to put them together?”

“I don’t have the time. I have a hundred quilts of my own to make and probably no time left to make ten. I can give them to the rummage sale at church. Or I can give them to somebody who thinks they’re interesting.”

“You’re giving them to me?”

“On one condition.”

“Oh, no…”

“That’s right. You have to sew them together. What good will they do anybody in a paper sack? Surprised they look as good as they do, aren’t you?”

“You are much too trusting.”

“You make a mistake, you can always tear it out.”

“I don’t have a sewing machine.”

“Old fabric. It will do better to sew it by hand anyway.”

Kendra knew she’d been bested. She was not going to let these beautiful blocks go to the rummage sale. “I just sew them one next to the other?”

“We’ll talk about that at your first lesson.”

“Lesson?”

Helen gave a definitive nod. “We can do it at the bee some Wednesday.”

“You’re good, you know?”

“Oh, I’m the very best.” Helen took the casserole out of the bag and trudged into the kitchen with it. Kendra heard the refrigerator open and close, and Helen returned.

“One more thing, and then I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to rush off,” Kendra said.

“Cissy will be on her way back about now. No, I just wanted you to have those. See, the thing about those blocks is that I know facts about the people who signed them. Emma Haff? Hers is blue, one of those about in the middle of the stack. She grew sunflowers in her garden, right betwixt every cornstalk. People called her the sunflower lady, on account of her sunflowers growing tall every year and her corn being right spindly.”

“The sunflower lady.” Kendra liked the sound of that.

“And Melissa Putzkammer? Well, hers is pink, if I remember correctly. She was an old maid and mean as a scorpion. Come Halloween night, her outhouse was always the first to get tipped. She’d load her shotgun with rock salt and shoot anybody who come up her drive if they couldn’t give a good enough reason to be there.”

“But she made a block?”

“I’m thinking maybe she wasn’t as bad as I remember. See, the thing is, quilts can teach you a lot of history.”

“Uh-huh.” Kendra knew more was coming.

“And I ran into some history at the museum. I wish you’d been there with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw fragments of a quilt, just like your Lover’s Knot. Almost exactly like it, I think.”

Kendra was wide-awake now. “Helen, really? Where? What were the circumstances?”

“Well, that’s the thing. It’s not a pretty story.”

“I don’t care.”

“Seems about a year ago they found two skeletons in a cave inside the park. They’d been there a long, long time. And they were wrapped in what was left of this quilt I mentioned. If I’m not mistaken, the quilt’s a twin to the one your Isaac inherited.”

Isaac usually ran alone, so he was surprised by how comfortable it was to run with Sam and two of the ugliest dogs he’d ever seen. The huge wolflike monstrosities, Shad and Shack, were every bit as friendly as they were ugly, and one of them—he wasn’t sure which—had assigned himself to be Isaac’s canine bodyguard, running right beside him.

“How often do you run?” Isaac asked.

“Three, four times a week. More if I can manage. How about you?”

“To and from work a couple of times a week when I know I’m staying in the office. On the treadmill a couple more. Kendra and I usually bike or hike on weekends if we’re not working.”

“My weekends are tied up, but I make sure I get outside on Mondays no matter what.”

“Kendra says for a small church, yours is the busiest she’s seen.”

“We’re calling an assistant minister. That’ll give me more time for my prison ministry.”

“You expect that kind of activism in the city,” Isaac said. “Not out here.”

“We have our share of problems with it. But I think the church is stronger for talking about issues.”

“They used to talk about issues at the churches I went to as a boy. Mostly who they could target that week. Politicians, usually, who didn’t see the world the way they did.”

“Condemning people isn’t our style. You ought to come with Kendra sometime and see.”

“Is this a conversion speech?”

“Nothing like it. I think you’d find friends and a place to think.”

“I’ve had enough church to last a lifetime. I saw what it didn’t do for my mother.”

“Your mother was a churchgoer?”

“My father chose our churches, but we went as a family every Sunday. Religion was just one of the ways he kept us in line. He used to quote scripture while he beat us. He was the master of Biblical excuses.”

The moment he’d admitted this, Isaac wondered why. The fight with Kendra last night? A heavy-handed stab at Sam’s own faith? A warning that religion was a closed subject?

“I’m sorry. Did your mother ever leave him?”

“She found a lump in her breast and didn’t see a doctor. I think she was hoping she would die, and she did. Nobody cried harder than the colonel.”

“He’s still around?”

“Somewhere. Mother’s dead, and now that I’m bigger than he is, the thrill’s gone out of having a family.”

“No hope of a reunion, I guess.”