The Healing Quilt (11 page)

When she awoke the following morning, she could hear the marching bands tuning up in the school yard one block over. She had planned to go to the parade and even to help Garth and the others at the church booth selling raspberry sundaes and soft drinks. She could hardly focus on setting the dial for the burner to make her cup of tea. Tea and toast, the only things that sounded like they would stay down.
The drums, please, Lord, turn off the drums.
She wasn't sure which were coming from the band and which were in her head.

Finally huddled in her chair, toast and tea on a plate on her lap, she forced herself to stay awake long enough to eat and drink, then crawled back to bed.

Garth, you would be better off with a wife who could help you like she should, not with this miserable failure you are married to. One who can't even give you a baby, because… because…

Tears leaked from her eyes and ran into her ears, but she had no strength to blot them away—or to stop them.

“Beth, Beth, where are you?”

She heard his voice, but by the time she'd roused enough to answer, he was coming in the door. “You're still in bed. Didn't you read my note?”

“No.” She sat up and used both hands to push her hair back from her face. “What note?”

“The one on the kitchen table. Didn't you even go to the kitchen?”

“I… I think so. Yes, I had tea and toast for breakfast. I… I just didn't see a note.” She cringed back against her pillows at the look of censure that darkened his face. Not that she could see well in the dimness. “What time is it?”

“Seven. I asked you to meet me for dinner at six and we'd walk around until the fireworks started. I think everyone in Jefferson City and the surrounding county is there.”

She finished his sentence,
but for you.
“I'm sorry.”

“We can still get some barbecue and watch the fireworks.”

Even the thought of barbecue beef and ribs made her throw back the covers and head for the bathroom. Dry heaves made her dizzy.

“Do you think you have the flu or something?”

“Maybe.” But she knew the difference. “You go on. I'll just stay in bed until this passes.” She crept back into the waiting bed like a mole heading for the safety of his earthen burrow.

“I hate to leave you like this.”

“Don't worry. If it is the flu I wouldn't want anyone else to catch it.” She turned over on her side to face the wall. She heard him cross the floor and felt his hand on her shoulder. His kiss tickled the hair around her ear. A few moments later she heard him leave, and she sighed with relief.

Sometime later, she woke to hear something crying. She sat up, at first thinking it was a baby crying, but listening intensely, she realized it was a kitten or cat.

She lay back down. At least the headache was gone. And while she felt like a space cadet in weightlessness drill, at least her stomach had settled back down where it belonged.

The cat continued to cry.

What if it is hurt? The
thought propelled her out of bed, into her robe and slippers, and clear to the kitchen. It sounded like it came from the back door. She flicked on the back porch light and looked out to see a half-grown, orange-and-white tiger cat. At least she thought it might be orange and white, though the dirty, matted fur made her wonder.

Softly she opened the door, then the screen door and hunched down. The cat darted to the edge of the porch, staring back over its shoulder.

“Are you hungry, kitty? If I get you some milk, would you like that?” The cat mewed but kept its distance.

Beth closed the screen door. After getting a saucer from the cupboard, she poured milk into it and returned to the door to set it out on the porch.

The cat waited until she closed the door before creeping over to sniff and then lap the milk, taking care to keep a wary eye on her.

“You poor thing,” Beth crooned. “Whatever happened to you? Did you get lost?”

Pointed ears flicked back and forth at the sound of her voice, but the cat didn't move, other than his twitching tail and furiously lapping tongue, until the saucer was empty.

“Tuna, I bet you would like some tuna.” Beth retrieved a can of tuna from the cupboard and opened it with the can opener from the drawer. She debated pouring off the spring water but instead opened the door and dumped the entire can onto the saucer. “There, now, how do you like that?”

The cat had slunk halfway across the porch and still waited until she closed the door before sniffing the offering and settling down to eat.

“You've had a hard time, huh, kitty? Look, you won't even trust me when I bring food. Where is your home? Did someone dump you?” She heard Garths car in the driveway, the garage door open and close. When he entered the house, he stopped behind her.

“What is it?”

“See the kitten?”

Garth peered over her shoulder. “That mangy cat? It's been hanging around for the last couple of days. I shooed it away.”

“Oh.”
How could you ignore something so pitiful?
‘“I fed it.”

“Oh great, now it'll never go back where it belongs.”

“What if someone dumped it and it no longer belongs anywhere? You'd let it starve?”

“Well, no, uh… Beth, when our Sophie died, you said no more cats. Remember?”

She nodded and her hands crept back to cup her elbows, rolling her shoulders forward. “But we can't let it starve.”

“I'll call the Humane Society.”

“No!” The word exploded out her mouth.

“But you said…”

“I think I've changed my mind.”
If I have any mind lefi to change.
“Poor pathetic kitty.” She turned to look into her husband's face. “You think it would sleep in a box if we put a towel in one and set it up by the wall?”

“Its an ugly cat.”

“You might look kind of ugly too if you were half-grown, starved, and filthy dirty. Looks like another cat or a dog has beaten up on him too.

Garth sighed and dropped a kiss on her ear. “I'll get a box.”

After they'd cut one side of the box down, puffed up an old towel and laid it in the bottom, he held the door open while she stepped outside and set the box against the wall. The cat leaped down the steps but didn't run beyond the circle of light from the porch.

“You sleep here, and as soon as you feel brave enough, you can come into the house, okay?” Beth shut the screen door behind her and watched for a bit as the cat crept back up the steps and returned to the dish to sniff for any remnants of tuna. He sniffed the box and slunk back off the porch.

Beth leaned back against Garth's chest. “Just like some people, afraid to take a gift that's offered.”

Garth yawned. “I have the men's Bible Study at 6:30 in the morning, so let's get to bed. He's survived on his own this far, so what's another night?”

“How do you know it's a he?”

“I don't. Never tried to get close enough to find out. But if it's been brawling, you can bet it's a male.” Garth stopped in the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Beth stood at the bedroom window, looking out at the streetlight. Bugs and moths fluttered around the light, a bat swooped through, winnowing the population. If only she could stay in the light, perhaps the nightmares wouldn't attack.

“Thomas. I'll ask him if he wants to go to the parade.”

“Woof.” Missy sat at her side, tail brushing the carpet.

“Sorry, girl, I used the gword, didn't I?” Kit stooped to pat Missy's head and rub her ears. “Not now, but I'll come home later.” Missy leaned into her ministering fingers, adoring gaze announcing full appreciation. Kit rose. “All right, backyard, you, while I load the pies in the car.” She let the dog out, checking to see that the gate to the six-foot cedar fence was locked. Missy had been known to nose it open and go visiting down the street.

Kit opened the door to the garage and then raised the back of the van. She had left the rear seat out ever since she took Ryan to college, the better to have hauling space. When did she ever drive six people anywhere anymore anyway?

She carried low-cut boxes filled with pies out to the car and slid them in. When done she dusted off her hands and stood back to close the hatchback.

“If I hit someone now, we'll have a mess of pies all right. Should put up a ‘drive safe, pies on board’ sign in the window.” She chuckled to herself as she slammed the door closed.

After calling Missy back in the house, she grabbed her purse and a collapsible lawn chair and stepped up into the van. The vehicle, in spite of being loaded with all the pies, seemed far too big for a lone woman, especially on a holiday. She stuck the key in the ignition and sighed at the same time. A week since she'd heard from Mark.

But who was counting?

She swung into the driveway at Thomas's house and waited a moment before getting out. Perhaps it was too early in the day. What if they slept in, since it was a holiday? She debated with herself but continued up the steps to the front door and rang the bell. When no one answered, instead of ringing again, she turned away, mentally scolding herself for not thinking of this earlier so she could have made arrangements. She was halfway down the steps when the door opened.

“Hey, Mrs. Cooper.” Thomas stepped outside.

“Hey, yourself. I came by to see if you wanted to go to the parade with me, unless your parents are taking you…”

“Nah, no time.”

“You want to come?”

He nodded and headed back inside. “I'll go ask, don't go without me.”

“I won't.” Kit stared at the lawn that had missed out on at least two mowings and flowerbeds badly in need of weeding. Obviously no one in this family liked yard work.
Maybe Thomas would like to garden with me. After all than how Mark and I taught our children, working side by side together.

“I can go.” Thomas crammed his Mariner's hat on his head as he shut the door.

Kit noted the dirty T-shirt. “You might want to change your shirt first.” Once a mother, always a mother, and one seemed to be lacking here.

“Oh.” He stared down at the ketchup stain. Hat askew, he looked up at her. “Really, I gotta?”

At her nod, he ran back in the house. He left the door open, and she could hear him clattering down the hall. If someone was sleeping, they wouldn't be for long. But no one yelled “Be quiet!” and Thomas returned, still sticking one arm in the sleeve. He pulled his shirt down and looked up for her approval.

Wrinkled but clean. One out of two aint bad.
“Okay, lets go.”
Strange
, she thought.
I'm never have kt my kids be gone for the day with someone Ididnt know.

“What smells so good?” Thomas latched his seat belt without being asked.

“Pies. I have to drop them off at the booth before we go to the parade.”

“What kind?”

“Oh, apple, rhubarb, chocolate, and lemon meringue.”

“No cherry?”

“Sorry. Perhaps someone else will bring cherry.”

“What are the pies for?”

“We sell pieces of pie to earn money for our church.”

“Oh. Hows Missy?”

“She needs someone to play with her again, any time you want to come over.”

“I came two days ago but you weren't home.”

“Sorry, I'll be home tomorrow.”

“Good. Where we gonna watch the parade?” He stared out the window.

“I thought a couple of blocks from the park. That's where the parade ends.” She signaled a right-hand turn and glanced over at her young friend. “I see you like baseball. Are you playing this summer?”

“Nah, got here too late. The teams were already full.”

“Does your dad like baseball?”

He nodded and turned back to the window. Obviously that wasn't a topic he wanted to discuss.

“Who's your favorite player?”

“Who's yours?”

“Bret Boone.”

“You watch the games?” His look bubbled with amazement.

“Sometimes, when I have time.”

“Baseball is for guys.”

“Since when? You ever looked around the stands to see how many women go?”

His shrug said he didn't believe her in spite of any evidence she might produce. “Softball is for girls.”

What a sexist, and at his age!
But she remembered Ryan talking about girls with the same tone, back in the days before his hormones kicked in.