The Healing Quilt (41 page)

“Now, wouldn't that be something. Maybe you'll have peace at your house after all.”

“Oh, Bumblehead will follow through on the suit, if I know her.”

“Maybe not.” Teza wore a thoughtful expression. “Remember the heaping coals we talked about?”

“Believe me, Teza, I've tried kindness and it didn't work. Now I'm going to figure a way to get even.”

“I see. I'll pray you don't get hurt in the trying.”

“Don't worry about me. I'm pretty resilient.” Elaine got to her feet and picked up her bag. “And on that note, I need to get going. Quilting tomorrow?”

“You know the door is always open for anyone who has a few spare minutes, or hours. Teza has her radiation Monday through Fridays at 9:30, so we'll always be back as soon as possible.”

“How long is Ryan staying home?”

“About a week is all. He found a job in Pullman and starts a few weeks before his classes begin.” Kit stood and walked Elaine to the door, then followed her outside when Elaine beckoned.

Elaine lowered her voice to a whisper. “When does Teza have her first chemotherapy?”

“She goes in Saturday morning. Be there at least a night, probably until Sunday afternoon or evening. Why?”

“Well, her hair is going to fall out immediately, right?”

“Well, within a few days it starts, I guess.”

“I think we should give her a hat party.”

“A hat party—what a marvelous idea.”

“I thought perhaps we could each make her a different kind. I have a pattern for a turban that will look smashing on her.”

Kit squinted her eyes to think back to her patterns. “I think I have a denim one that I could put a sunflower on for working around the fruit shed.”

“Good. I wanted to check with you first, but tonight I'll call the others. Maybe we could all have them ready by next Wednesday or so. Don't you think she would feel up to it by then?”

“I sure hope so. She didn't have chemo last time, just the mastectomy, so I don't know how her body will respond.”

“I'm putting my hope with that Healing Touch program of Elsie Mae's. I want her to do a presentation to the hospital board and the guild also. If there is anything we can do to alleviate some of the suffering, we do need to do it.” She set off down the steps with a wave over her shoulder.

Kit watched her go.
Hard to believe than the snobby Mrs. Giovanni I met a long time ago.
Still thinking about the difference in the Elaine she thought she knew and the one who'd become part of the quilting group, she went back into the house to the quilting frame. Now if she could only figure out what all was bothering Beth.

“He calendar never lies.

“I'm sorry, honey.”

“I know. Other women get babies, I get my period. My mother says I should be grateful I'm so regular. Somehow I find it a bit difficult to praise God for this.” Beth sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands and her hair veiling her face.

Garth tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed the shell of translucent skin. “Beth, you do know that I love you, baby or not. I didn't marry you because you might bear children.”

“Yeah, well, good thing.” She looked longingly at the rumpled bed. To crawl back under the covers and sink into sleep. Forget the day, the period, the despair that shadowed her mind.

Instead she stood and headed for the shower. She had an appointment with Dr. Kaplan, and then she'd join the group for quilting. Like Kit said, “If you keep busy enough, the grief is easier to bear.”

So are you going to tell him whan really wrong? Not in this lifetime. But how can he help you if you arent honest? He can't help anyway No one can. In just something I have to live with.

The argument pounded in her head like the water pounded her body. At least she could turn the water off.

Beth stopped her car in front of the Rainier Building where Dr. Kaplan had his office and stared at the corner of a concrete wall covered by creeping fig. The stems and leaves traced an intricate pattern of light and shadow. Behind that wall was the courtyard where birds fed at the feeders and splashed in the bath, and day lilies raised golden trumpets to the sun and harbored bees and hummingbirds. Such peace in so small a space.

Except for the doctor and his penetrating questions. Four weeks she'd been coming now and she knew she was better, but was it the pills or…

“Lord, I don't want to go see him any longer.”
Not that I ever wanted to, but Garth feeh so strongly about it. Of course he isnt the one coming, just me.
She took in a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it all out. Dr. Kaplan had taught her that. As she exhaled, her shoulders relaxed and her neck lost its stiffness.

When Garth had continued his sermon series on trust on Sunday, trust and obedience had been the themes. She remembered the song from Sunday school when she was little. “Trust and obey for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.”

Well, what if you'd disobeyed? Sure
, it sounded so easy. Confess your sins. He would forgive your sins and cleanse you from all unrighteousness. First John 1:9, the Christian's bar of soap.
So how many times have I confessed this? A hundred, a thousand?

Beth glanced at the clock and opened her car door. Would today be the day? She fingered the letter she carried in her purse—a letter written to that baby that never had a chance to live because she had taken that chance away from him or her. She thought back to the middle of the night when she'd written the letter. “Dear baby in heaven, I'm so sorry I was so selfish that all I could think of was me and what would happen to me. They said I'd forget after a time, that you were nothing more than a cluster of cells, not a real baby yet. They lied…” But Beth knew “I'm sorry” would never be enough.

If I give him the letter, then Dr. Kaphn will understand. Will he hate me too? Or will he say I have to tell Garth so he can hate mei

The urge to get back in the car and go to Kit s—where she could lose herself in the quilting, laugh at jokes, enjoy the conversation— made her pause. She glanced back at the car, then at the front door to the building. Smoked glass. Like her life, murky and dim.

Trust. All right, Garth, I'm trusting. Each time I walk through this door, I'm trusting.
A picture of her cat at home flashed through her mind. Trust took time to build. Just this morning…

“Hi, Kitty. Boy do we need a name for you.” He mewed, looking up at her with wide green eyes. “You look so much better, although a bath might still help.” She leaned over and emptied the rest of the can of kitty tuna in his dish. Instead of waiting for her to leave as he used to, he'd bellied right up to the plate and, crouching on all fours, began to eat. She paused, then trailed gentle fingers over his back. His back arched under her hand, so she stroked him again. “Would you look at that? I can finally pet you.” The desire to pick him up needled her, but she resisted, just stroking him from head to tail again. He'd trusted her at least that much.

Trust. She left the car, entered the building, forcing herself to walk down the hall and open the office door. Her heart felt ready to leap out of her chest.

“So how has your week been?” They were sitting in their assigned seats, Beth hugging the wing-back chair, Dr. Kaplan across from her, relaxed and open.

“I've been working on the cancer quilt.”

“Cancer quilt?”

“It's a community project to buy a mammogram unit for the hospital.”

“What a great idea!”

“Were quilting it one diamond at a time.”

“You really enjoy quilting, don't you?”

Beth nodded. “At least with sewing, you can look at it and say that it's finished. It doesn't have to be redone again in the morning.”

“True. How is Garth?”

“Okay. Oh, you mean about his arrest at the abortion clinic?”

“Yes. The newspaper made it sound like there had been a riot.”

“One stone is hardly a riot.”

“But he's been arraigned?”

“Yes.” Her thumb attacked the other.

“When is the hearing?”

“This morning.” She couldn't look at him She knew what he was going to ask. Staring at the birdbath, she waited.

And waited. Keeping her head down, she angled just enough to peek at him from under her lashes.

“I told him I would never go to court with him!” The words burst forth like a newly opened fire hydrant. “He knows I want no part of his political activism. I told him.”

“Did he ask you to go?”

“No, but I had to go down and bail him out of jail.” I see.

No, you dorit. How canyon when you dorit know the whole story?

“So, do you feel like you should be there with him?”

The words dragged out of her. “A good wife would be.”

“So, because you refuse to take part in his pro-life activities, you are not a good wife?”

Beth shrugged and looked back out at the birds, her arms now clenched around herself.

Dr. Kaplan reached down beside his chair, picked up a fluffy white bear with a red ribbon around his neck, and handed him to Beth. “Here, sometimes hugging a bear helps.”

She clutched the toy, stroking his wonderfully soft fur with one hand.

“Can we back up a bit?”

Her shrug barely raised her shoulders.

“How did you feel when you went to the jail?”

“Scared. Angry. I almost didn't go.”

“Why did you go?”

“Because there was no one else.”

“He could have called an attorney or a member of the church.” 1 guess.

“Do you always do what you think is right?”

“Mostly.” She hugged the bear tighter.

“And you thought bailing Garth out was right?”

“He told me to bring the checkbook and come down there, so I did.”

“Did you tell him how you felt?”

“I… I don't remember.”

“Do you tell Garth anything that you think about?”

Oh, please, dont ask me any more questions.
She drew back into the chair, wishing she could melt right into it.

“Not that I'm thinking of starting a business.”
Not that I had an abortion.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to start a business?”