Once downstairs, she fixed her first cup of tea and took it to the wicker chair in the bay window where she read her morning devotions whenever it was too chilly to be outside in her rocking chair on the wraparound porch. She read two chapters on her way through reading the Bible from cover to cover again. Then, leaving the Bible open on her lap, she folded her hands, took in a deep breath, exhaled, and recited, “The Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth be silent before him. Be still and know that I am God.” Breathing deeply she imagined Jesus in a meadow and saw herself sitting at his feet. He laid his hand on her head, and she began to praise and thank him for her home, for her small farm that not only kept her busy but provided a steady income through much of the year, for her friends, for air to breathe, for Christ himself and God who loved her, for Kit, for friends, for customers who also became friends, for her flowers, for hands that loved to garden and sew and all the other things she loved doing. From her praises she segued into her prayer list, which she took from within the pages of her Bible and read aloud. After each petition she paused to listen, something she had resolved she would do more often. “Be still and know that I am God.” Chattering to God and then hanging up she'd decided was rude.
“And, Father, please take care of Mark while he is away on this business trip. Please bring him home safely and continue to work healing in his soul and spirit. Lord, I know your plan is for that marriage to grow stronger with all they've been through with Amber.” She waited and the words
trust me, you and Kit must both trust me
filled her mind. She nodded, keeping her eyes closed and listening with both inner and outer ears and mind.
Trust me.
She'd been hearing a lot of that lately.
Tipping her head back against the high, curved chair, she waited again. “And about Kit, she is carrying such anger at you. I remember when Karl died, I went through the same grieving, but I know it is worse for someone losing a daughter. Teach me how to help her, how to help them before that root of bitterness digs in so deep we need major excavation to dig it out. Lord, you who can do far beyond what we know or think, I thank you for the answers you have already put into action so we can see them when we need them. You said, ‘Before you call I will answer.’ Thank you and praise you. In Jesus’ precious name I pray, amen.” She kept her eyes closed for a bit longer, enjoying the sense of peace that hovered in the room and her heart, bringing a golden light in spite of the gray outside.
By the time she opened her eyes the tea had grown cold, but she felt as warm as if she had been sitting in the sunshine. “Thank you, Father.” She stood and stretched both arms over her head and then bent forward until her fingers touched the braided rag rug under her feet. “Not bad for a nearly seventy-year-old woman.”
She glanced at the chalkboard where she kept her to-do list for the day. So much to get done before that meeting at Kit's. She poured herself a bowl of Raisin Bran, added milk, and took the bowl and spoon to stand at the window so she could look out at her orchard. Bing cherries hung nearly black and heavy on the branches under the netting that kept the birds at bay. A wonderful crop this year; she would have to put out the you-pick sign when she came back from town. She'd never get them all picked without help. She set her watch to remind her to come in at 9:30 and headed to the fruit shed for buckets. There was something about picking fruit that brought her even closer to God, not that all her gardening didn t do much the same, but the Bible mentioned good fruit so often— She stopped her forward motion as though she'd hit an invisible wall.
Bear much fruity bear much fruit
The ideas tiptoed in, then ran like a dead heat. A quilt with appliquéd fruit on the squares and the fruits of the spirit embroidered above them, verses that fit embroidered all around in the border. Plain blocks of white or another color quilted in stylized fruit designs. She could see the colors, rich and vibrant. The design could be done for a full-sized quilt or a wall hanging, or even a cross-stitch. On the blackboard in the fruit shed, she jotted down her ideas, picked up her buckets, and danced her way out to the orchards, singing, “Oh, Lord, thank you, thank you. What an idea, thank you, I praise you.” Her fingers itched to get started on the quilt, but she set them to picking instead. When her wrist alarm sounded, she set the filled buckets on the flat-bedded wooden wheelbarrow Mark had made for her years earlier, during the days when Karl was so ill, and trundled her produce up to the barn.
On the drive to town she let her mind roam free with the quilt idea, seeing it done and hanging in the fruit shed along with the other farm-related handicrafts she sold there. She thought of her stash of fabrics at home, trying to think if she had enough fruit prints for the border trim. “Of course, I shall have to do the lining in a fruit patterned fabric.” She thumped on the steering wheel. “Oh, I wish I could get started on it.” She waved at a person who honked behind her when her mind skipped watching traffic lights and played on with the quilt. “That old child's coloring book, I bet that's where I've
seen
fruit the way I want.” Wondering where she had it packed away, she parked her truck in front of Kit's house and ambled up the walk, sniffing the roses as she went.
“You know what?” she asked when Kit met her at the front door. “I haven't saved rose petals for potpourri yet. How about saving some of yours for me?”
“Hello to you too.” Kit stepped back. “Come on in—or should we meet out here on the porch? The sun looks to be coming out soon.”
“The porch, of course.” Teza hugged her niece. “But don't let my preferences choose for the group.”
“You're glowing. You must have some good news.”
“Here, sit down.” Teza pointed toward the cedar glider. “I have the most stupendous quilt design idea ever, and I think it could be made into other products as well.”
“You need paper and a pencil?”
“No.” Teza patted the seat beside her. “Just sit.” As soon as Kit took her place, Teza described her idea of the fruit quilt. “Maybe I should call it ‘Good Fruit.’ We can talk about that, but each square could also be a potholder or—”
“An apron bib or the design on a tea towel,” Kit picked up. “When we get the first one done, we can digitize it and use machine embroidery. You could make up kits for any of the products made, why, I bet you'd need to hire seamstresses to keep up with the demand.” Kit took her aunt's hands in hers. “What a bombshell idea!”
“Interesting, because I'd had my morning devotions, and I've been asking God to help me listen better. I had my breakfast, and on the way out to the barn, that song about the fruit of the spirit—you know the one—started running through my head, and all of a sudden I saw this glorious quilt, in full color, all finished. I've never had an idea come to me like that.” She thought a brief moment. “Place mats and napkins could come of it, too.”
Kit leaned forward to give Teza a hug. “I have no idea how you will do all this along with the farming.” She shook her head, but her eyes were dancing. “But I know you enough to know you will.”
“I think the cherries did it. Oh, I brought you some. I don't think I've had a better year for Bings, so pray for no rain or I'll have a ton of jam.”
“The pie cherries aren't ripe yet, are they?”
“No, but the Royal Annes are lovely too. And I still have some raspberries. The ever-bearing strawberries are coming on for another picking. I sure do miss Ryan. He was always such a help, he and Amber both. Well, when I think of it, all three of the kids were. Jenny just didn't like messing around with garden and farm like the other two.”
“Hey, you two look like you've got all the problems solved,” Sue Gunderson called as she strolled up the walk. A basket over her arm said she'd brought more than ideas to kick around.
“Tezas got a wonderful idea for a new quilt”—Kit spread her hands apart—“and a whole bunch of ideas to go along with it. Wait until you hear.”
“I thought we were coming to discuss a cancer quilt.” Sue set her basket down and wiped her forehead. “I do hope we're meeting out here. These hot flashes about do me in. They say exercise helps mitigate them, but just now walking in from the car and the thing blindsided me.”
“This too shall pass?” Teza raised her eyebrows and tipped her head slightly to the side, her smile bringing forth one in return.
“I know. There's no sense griping about it, but I have to learn to bring along a fan. I saw a bitty little thing that can fit in your pocket and runs on a battery. Think I'll buy one before it gets too hot.”
“I used to carry one of those folding ones along with me. Ill look around the house and see if I still have it.”
“Oh, you'll have it somewhere. You never throw anything away.” Kit stood. “I'll go get some more chairs and bring the coffee carafe out here.”
The other two dutifully followed her in, so she put them to work bringing the chairs in from the back deck and setting out a tray. By the time the others arrived, the wicker table had a cloth over it, the tray in place, and chairs around it.
“Oh, this looks just like a picture out of Martha Stewart,” Harriet Spooner gushed as she sat down in the cedar rocker with peony-flowered cushions. “Everyone, I brought Beth Donnelly along with me. She's our new pastor's wife and she said she likes to quilt, though I know she wasn't too impressed with the WECARE meeting. She did meet Teza there after the meeting was over.”
“Welcome.” Kit motioned to a chair. “Glad you could join us.”
Beth smiled. “Thank you.”
“This is Sue Gunderson. Her quilt won Grand Champion at the county fair last year, and she's just like Kit. You two are so creative you put me to shame.”
“Thanks, Harriet, but I've seen your yard.” Kit picked up her clipboard so she could sit down. “Several others called to say they couldn't make it. If you'd all like to get some coffee and a piece of pound cake, we can begin right away so you can get back to all the things I know you have planned for today.”
As the women helped themselves, Teza caught her eye. “Don't say any more about the fruit quilt,” she whispered. “I want this meeting to concentrate on the other one.”
“Well, look who's here,” Kit whispered to Teza before she stood to welcome their newest guest.
“I'll be,” Sue murmured and leaned back in the glider.
“Elaine, good of you to come.”
“Thank you. I heard about this meeting at the Fourth of July celebration, and while I know I should have called…” She put out her hand and shook Kit's.
“No, not at all. Everyone is welcome.” Kit motioned to the group. “I'll let everyone introduce themselves. Ladies, this is Elaine Giovanni, head of the women's auxiliary and our token woman on the hospital board.”
Elaine stopped at the top of the steps. “Your landscaping is just lovely. What do you do to get your roses to bloom so abundantly?”
“I took Harriet's advice”—she motioned to Harriet Spooner— “and sprinkled alfalfa clippings under them. That and lots of compost.”
“It most certainly worked.” Elaine took the remaining chair and set her briefcase on the floor beside it, then turned to the others.
When the introductions were finished, Kit nodded. “All right, ladies, I thought I'd tell you a bit about the background of our idea.” She told them about the newspaper article, talking to Marcy at the hospital, and where the quilt idea came from. “So, while I know we can't earn enough for the mammogram unit, we can do a lot toward encouraging community support by kicking offa campaign. Any questions?”
“Are they sure that article was correct about the high wires? I thought the utility company put all those old fears to rest before they strung those.” Sue fanned herself with a napkin.
“I brought that issue and others up at the hospital board meeting last week, but if you do your research, you'll find there are at least two sides on that issue. As far as I can see, the truth is that the lines can cause cancer.” Elaine pulled a portfolio out of her briefcase. “If any of you want to read my findings, you are welcome to do that.”
Harriet Spooner reached for the file. “Thanks, I'd like that.”
“We also discussed the state of the current mammogram unit.” Elaine flipped to some notes in her file folder. “There are sound financial reasons not to purchase a new one, things like Medicare cutting back on the amount they pay both for the mammogram and the doctor to read them, other insurances are following suit.
“Well, if that don't beat ail. What is our government coming to?” Harriet looked up from her reading. “If you ask me—”
“So what that really means to us is that we are on our own as far as the board is concerned, but then that is not unusual either. Through the years, the guild has picked up the slack on many needed projects, like the isolettes we just purchased for the neonatal unit,” Elaine continued.
Harriet didn't seem to realize she'd been interrupted.
“Yes, the guild has done a lot for our hospital. We are grateful for the work they do.” Sue poured herself another cup of coffee.
“That is well and good,” Teza said, “but lets talk about the project at hand. Who knows what kind of good God is going to bring of this.” Teza looked at Kit in time to catch a flash of disagreement.
Just you wait, my dear. God has some real surprises in store for you.
“Thank you, Elaine, Teza. So, are we all in agreement that this is a project that is needed and that we'd like to do?” Kit reached down to the pile of pattern books at her feet while watching for nods. “Good. I marked some patterns I thought might be really lovely, and we're open for suggestions from all the group. I think once we've decided on a pattern and the colors, then I'll get an article in the paper so we can have a cutting day, opening it up for anyone who wants to take home blocks to stitch.”
“Are we going to do this by hand or machine?” Sue asked.
Kit looked around the group again. “I think machine stitch the blocks and the top, then hand quilt it. We also have to decide on size, king or queen. What do all of you think?”
“I'd think king, then if someone had a smaller bed, it could hang down like a bedspread.” Elaine flipped pages in the book she'd picked up. “You do understand that the quilt would be more valuable if it is hand stitched?”