The Healing Quilt (14 page)

Missy looked up with adoring, soulful eyes and sniffed once before digging in. The wagging tail added thanks.

“I know, you're welcome.”

Kit poured herself a glass of iced tea from the pitcher in the refrigerator and sat down at the kitchen table to read her mail. A card with no return address but a postmark of Denver, Colorado, caught her attention. Recognizing the handwriting immediately, she slit the envelope with her letter opener and smiled at the sad-looking Charlie Brown on the front. The lettering said, “I'm sorry” Inside, “For not writing more often.”

She cocked her head. “Well, that's a switch. No phone call, but a card and one that lets me know his general whereabouts.” She read the brief handwritten message that said absolutely nothing and slid the card back in the envelope. “So I guess that shows he thinks of me from time to time.” Staring out the window, she tapped the edge of the envelope on the table. She was suddenly aware of the sound of Missy eating. Crunch, tap, tap, crunch, tap, tap and a big sigh. Her own.
Ah, Mark, what is happening to us
—
or is there even an us anymore?
Sometimes Kit wanted to scream at him. But now, a sadness so heavy she could hardly breathe smothered her. Standing would take too much lifting. Her arms weren't strong enough to bench-press the world of hurt his leaving caused. She thought back to that day, six months ago.

“I can't stay here anymore. Too many memories, too many tears. I just can't.” Mark had his suitcase packed and sitting by the backdoor, ready to be loaded into his car. His gold-flecked eyes, usually so warm and charming, looked gray like the rest of his face. He'd lost weight since the funeral, and black hollows under his eyes showed lack of sleep.

Many times she awakened in the middle of the night to find his side of the bed empty. Sometimes she found him in Amber's room, sometimes in his chair in the family room, no lights on, staring into space or the past. The past before the cancer returned.

They'd lived through the first attack and round of radiation, chemotherapy, vomiting, hair loss, mouth sores so bad Amber could barely talk, and tears shed over an unfair life. In those five years, Amber had continued to play basketball, volleyball, and summer Softball. She graduated from high school. They believed God had healed her, since she'd done far better than the doctors predicted. The bone had grown back faster than normal and more fully than early estimations. While Mark had helped when he could, his business travel often kept him away during hospital overnights and outpatient care.

Kit remembered his hasty departures any time the nurses had to find a vein in Amber's arm. Mark and needles were not compatible. But he had held basins and helped distract their daughter while she fought off the nausea. Together they'd kept their family life as normal as possible, enjoying their times together, looking forward to the future.

Until Amber died.

“Woof!” Missy nudged her knee, and the look on her face clearly questioned why she was being ignored. Kit, wiping her
eyes
with her fingertips, leaned down and cupped the dogs ears with both hands. “Do you still miss her, girl? Sometimes I think I could die from the hurting. Or maybe I just wish I would. Living is much harder, and with Mark gone…” She shook her head, dropping her chin to her chest. Missy lifted both broad front feet to Kit's thigh and whimpered, her pointed nose and sad eyes seeking and giving reassurance. At least petting the dog helped Kit focus on something besides the hole in her heart.

Okay, Cooper, straighten up and fly right
, she ordered herself. You have no time for a pity party now or anytime. Besides, you ve done enough of them.

Someone knocked on the back door. Kit sniffed, wiped her eyes again, and stood, sucking in a breath of composure at the same time. Seeing no one through the lace sheer, she opened the door to see Thomas sitting on the deck chair.

“Hey, Thomas.”

Missy charged out, catching Kits calves and nearly knocking her over. Her woofs of delight and flapping ears stretched a grin from ear to ear on her guest. “I think she likes you.”

Thomas fell to his knees, hugging the dog and laughing at her slurpy kisses. When he looked up at Kit again, he studied her for a moment.

“You're sad. Why?”

Leave it to Thomas. She sniffed and wished for a tissue, but rather than going back for one, she sat down in the other chair.

Thomas didn't take his gaze off her, all the while petting Missy but obviously waiting for an answer.

What to tell him?
The honest truth, than what you tell people. But then I might cry again, and this child doesnt need to see me wallowing in self-pity
“I got a card in the mail, and it brought up sad memories, that's all.”

Missy knocked Thomas's Mariners cap off his head. He snatched it before Missy could run off with it and returned to studying Kit.

“What memories?”

“Of my daughter.”

“I forgot. What's her name again?

“Amber.”

“Where does she live now?”

“In heaven.” Kit rolled her lips and
eyes
to keep the tears at bay.

“My grandmas in heaven. She watches out for me.” Sitting on the deck floor, he crossed his legs and took up scratching Missy's belly, still gazing at Kit.

Go away, child, this hurts too bad.

“Amber watches out for you. That's what angels do.”

“Who told you that?”

“My dad.”

“Your dad is pretty smart.”

“Yeah, I know.” Thomas grinned at Missy's wriggling to keep him rubbing her tummy, then glanced up at Kit from the corner of his eye. “How long since Amber got to be an angel?”

Got to be. Interesting.
“Two years.”

“You miss her, huh.”

It was more a statement than a question, as if he understood all about death and life and missing ones you love. “More than I can say.” Tears flowed unchecked, dripping off her chin.

“I bet she loved Missy a whole lot.”

“She did.”
She hved life a whole lot.
“You want a Popsicle?”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I think so. You can give Missy a treat. That's one of the things Amber loved to do, only most of the time she just shared what she was eating.”

“Does Missy like Popsicles?”

“Most likely, but I'll bring her a puppy treat.”

“Can I get the ball?”

Missy scrambled to her feet at the
b
word, again making Thomas laugh.

“Does she know ‘ball’?” His eyes grew round when Missy Tigger-bounced around the deck.

“I call it ‘the
b
word’ if I don't plan on throwing it for half an hour. I dont think she's ever given up before I did.”

“I can throw it.”

“I know.” Kit opened the door and crossed to the refrigerator while he fetched the red nylon ball from the toy box. “Put it in your pocket for a bit, or you'll never get to eat your Popsicle. What color do you want?”

“Purple.”

“We have red, green, and yellow.” Green.

She took out banana for herself and smacked it on the edge of the counter to separate the two sections. “You want yours divided too?”

“Okay.” He nodded and shoved the ball in his jeans pocket. “Thank you,” he said, taking one half and watching her return the other to the freezer.

“You can have that when you're done with the first.”

He nodded again and nibbled on the end of his Popsicle.

Someone sure taught you good manners. I wonder why you never mention your mother.
Kit pulled a couple of tissues from the box on the counter, dug out the puppy treats, and followed her guest back outside. After blowing her nose, she could smell the spicy scent of the Sunset rose floating by. A robin dug in the soil of the dahlia bed, where worms were plentiful and easy to find. Hummingbirds clicked and chased each other from the two feeders she had hung, one from the eaves, the other on a shepherd's crook, a cast-iron hook attached to the edge of the silvered cedar deck. While Kit loved mornings, too, evenings like this were her favorite time of day.

She leaned back in the chair and watched as Missy caught her treats in midair. The dog danced on snowshoe feet, waiting for Thomas to throw the ball, ready to dart off at his first motion. When he hesitated, Missy bowled him over. Getting run into by Missy was like being hit by a low-slung Rottweiler, solid and below the knees.

Kit ate her Popsicle, enjoying the evening, the flowers, and mostly the joy shooting out of boy and dog like the sparklers they'd lit at the park on the Fourth. She ignored the voice that said she should be weeding the garden or working on Ryan's quilt or… Her inner mother could always find more to do and scold for wasting time. She even ignored the ringing phone, letting the answering machine pick it up instead. She'd call back later, after dark.

Flushed with running, and smelling pure boy, Thomas skidded to a stop in front of her. “Can I get your other Popsicle, too?”

“Yes, that would be very nice of you.” She watched him tell Missy to wait while he went inside, and the dog did just that, staring at the door as if he might not come back if she took her gaze away. But he did.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered treat and ambled down the two steps to the lawn, deadheading the early marigolds she'd started from seed and pulling a weed or two from the well-mulched flower bed. When she noticed that the streetlights had come on, she turned to call Thomas.

“Time for you to go home. How about if Missy and I walk with you?” The look he gave her made her smile and add, “I haven't walked yet today and I need to.”

Sure, then, that she wasn't treating him like a little kid, he nodded. “Come on. Missy, want to go for a walk?” Missy responded with more Tigger-bouncing and woofs of sheer joy. Missy didn't enjoy walking as much as sorting through all the scents she would pick up on the way. Bassets always walked nose to the ground, and that didn't mean a stroll either. She pulled Thomas ahead at a half trot, his laughter floating back to make Kit smile. If this was what grandparenting felt like, she would look forward to babies in the family that would grow into interesting boys and girls.

“Tell her to heel and make her mind. You know how to do that.”

His giggle told her he had no intention of stopping the fun as Missy dragged him from one side of the sidewalk to the other, up to and around a tree in one yard, and under the bushes in the next, then back to the fire hydrant by the curb.

Kit let them walk past his house, glancing up to see if anyone was watching out for him. The drapes were pulled on the front window, and no one had turned on the front light. In fact, she didn't see light in any of the windows. The next block passed in a spray of giggles and Missy's
basso profondo
discovery of a dog behind a fence. The yapping terrier quieted when the two sniffed noses through the slight gap between fence boards.

“Come on, Missy.” Thomas jerked on the leash, bringing Missy back to the sidewalk just as Kit caught up with them.

“Thomas, is no one home at your house?”

“My sisters there. She's probably watching TV in the family room.”

Who will make your dinner? When will your father get home?
“Won't she be worried when you aren't home yet?”

“Nah, she said to be home by dark, and it's not all dark yet.”

“I see.”
But without the streetlights, not much longer.
“We'll turn back now so she won't worry.”

“She don't worry.”

“Oh.”
What to say what to think?
When they reached Thomas's house, he handed her the leash, knelt down to give Missy one more hug, accepted one more slurpy kiss, then headed up the stairs. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. Thank you for playing with Missy.” Kit walked on past her own house and around three more blocks. Missy might be about worn out, but she wasn't. Later, after she ate her dinner of leftovers, baked a lemon pound cake to serve at the meeting in the morning, flipped through her quilting book to find some patterns to offer as samples, put the dog out, let the dog in, threw a load of clothes in the washer, sorted through the remainder of the mail, locked the doors, and did her evening ablutions, she glanced at the clock and groaned.

“Oh, nuts, I didn't callTeza. Too late now.” Of course she'd already let Teza know about the meeting, but sometimes her aunt needed a reminder or she'd get busy out in the garden and forget. “Like I forgot to call her.”

Kit scribbled a note on the pad by the bed, eyed her Bible, and turned off the light. When had she stopped reading her Bible every night? Was it after Amber died or after Mark left? Dates seemed to run together, blurred by all the tears she'd shed. She stared heavenward. “You could have changed all this, kept if from happening. You were the only one who could have, but you sat on your hands and did nothing. Why?” It promised to be another long night of unending questions and no answers.

“I must have pulled a muscle yesterday.” Teza rubbed the sore area just to the front of her shoulder. “I'll put some liniment on it tonight.” She finished dressing and glanced out the window. Gray. The weatherman had said no rain, and sun by afternoon, so she'd have time to pick cherries. If it rained now, they'd split for sure, and then she'd have to make preserves of all of them.