The Healing Quilt (18 page)

“And since burgundy is a blued red, that will fit really well too.” Teza sat back. “We'll use the cream when we have some pieces with patterns, or cream on cream. That'll make the design much richer, too. See, here along the edge of the star, we're going to have to fill in with triangles to straighten the edge.”

“What if we put the triangles in a blue print and that first border in either a solid blue or blue on blue?”

Beth took her pencil and began drawing on her pad of paper. “We could do the corners like this.” She drew two squares, one a nine patch and the other another star with cream fill-in.

“If we did the nine patch, we could do one border of blocks, say the same size as in the nine patch but only two blocks high.”

The discussion continued until Teza sat back in her chair. “This will be a work of art, that is for sure.”

“I love the colors. I can just picture it.” Beth studied the drawing she'd made.

“You have a real talent for drawing, don't you?” Teza pointed to the pad.

Beth looked from the pad to Teza and then to Kit, puzzlement creasing her forehead. “Not really, I mean this is just triangles and straight lines.”

“All in balance and proportion,” Kit added.

“I never thought of myself as an artist. I just make quilts and things.”

“Fabric artist perhaps?”

Beth sat as if caught in a children's statue game. Her lips parted on an exhale, her eyes widened, and the corners of her mouth tipped up just enough to brighten her eyes. “You really think so?”

Kit and Teza swapped glances of delight—and nodded in perfect sync.

“1… I guess I'll have to think about this… I mean, I'm not, uh, real talented, you know.”

“Right.” Kit rolled her eyes. “Lets get some iced tea. I was hoping to get pattern pieces cut out tonight, but its getting late.”

“Are you going to use the plastic template stuff?”

“I think so, that way the cutters can work faster.”

The three made their way down the stairs.

“I love the way you have all your family pictures on this wall.” Beth stopped halfway down. “You have a beautiful family. What are their names?”

Kit stopped, too, and pointed to each picture as she named them. “That's Jennifer, our eldest. She just started her career in public relations in Dallas. This is Ryan, the youngest. He's attending Wazoo, or rather Washington State University in Pullman.”

“And this?” Beth pointed to the third picture.

“That's Amber, she's…” Kit felt her throat close.

“She's waiting for all of us in heaven.” Teza's soft words pooled in the silence.

“Oh.” Beth swallowed and looked to Kit. “I'm so sorry. How can you stand it, I mean you are so…so…?”

I can't stand it, I just keep ongoing.
Kit sniffed and ignored the urge to weep.

“How long ago?” Iwo years.

“Does it get any easier?” Beth whispered.

Three steps below the younger woman, Kit looked into Beth's
eyes
and understood. “How long ago was it for you?”

“Seven months. Our little boy died before he was born.” She sniffed and chewed on her bottom lip, pools of tears darkening her eyes.

Kit took her hand. “I think no matter how old they are, the hole is there—in our hearts.”

“Does it ever heal?”

“I hope so, Beth, I sure hope so.”

“I…better be going, uh, its getting late and.

“Iced tea won't take but a minute.” Teza put an arm around Beth's shoulders.

“No, I… I'll… I have to go.” Beth broke away, and snatching her purse off the coffee table, headed for the front door. “Th-thank you.”

“She's running even worse than you.” Teza dropped her hand on Kit's shoulder. “Poor child.”

“George, have you been listening to a word I've been saying?”

“Of course. You are figuring ways to get money for the new mam-mogram unit, whether we on the board think that is the best thing for our hospital or not.” He picked up the book he'd laid in his lap and went back to reading. Or at least to turning the pages.

“Whyever would it not? Don't you men understand how important this issue is? Just because you don't have breasts.

George laid his book back down and looked at her over the tops of his half glasses. “Have you looked into how much money we lost in the last couple of years offering mammograms?”

“So money is more important than women's health?” She could feel her jaw tightening, along with the back of her neck. She rolled her head from side to side and consciously relaxed her mouth.

“That's not the point.”

He'd assumed his doctor-lecturing-a-dim-patient demeanor, which always made her want to snap back. She controlled the urge and smiled instead. “Then tell me what is the point.”
Oh, Doctor, god of us all.

“If we don't keep within the budget, we won't have money to keep the doors open, and then no one will get help of any kind. We haven't invested heavily in other new diagnostic equipment for the same reason.”

“No, we invested in a new entry, new carpets, new furniture…the list goes on.”

“You know that Jefferson insisted on all that and put up a good portion of the finances. After all, it was his money, and an overhaul of the entire complex was long overdue.”

“And went way over budget.”

“I can't be held responsible for that.” He rubbed a hand back over his thinning hair. “If you hadn't missed those meetings, you'd have understood all that.”

“Oh, I understand all right.”
I'm not stupid, you know.
“And I know that Medicare cut back on the amounts they pay for mammograms—”

“And for reading the results. David Ashley doesn't work for nothing either. Although the way things are going, we'll all be working for next to nothing pretty soon. We're being regulated to death, and between the government and the HMOs, we're not allowed to treat patients like they should be or like we think they should be.”

“George, I know all that.”

“But you think we're taking it out on this one area of the hospital. Talk to the other departments, and you'll hear the same thing.”

“So I'd think you'd be glad to have some outside help.”

“Fine, you get the machine. Who's going to pay to operate it and read the results, let alone maintain the beast?” He kept his place with one finger and waved the book at her. “You have to look at the whole picture.”

“Then recommend we close down the entire department and send our women to Olympia or Tacoma or even Seattle. Half of our older ladies have no way to get that far, and the other half will be screaming bloody murder, which they are going to do anyway if more studies show that the power lines are causing a cancer cluster in our area.”

“I wish it were that easy, but that's why we've chosen to partially subsidize the mobile mammogram unit.”

“Which is broken again and unable to travel.”

“How do you know that?”

“Heard two people discussing it somewhere.” Elaine's jaw was beyond relaxing now. Why couldn't they just talk without falling into an argument?

“I still think if it were the men getting squeezed and…”

“Oh, give it a rest, Elaine. That claim is an old boat that won't float.” He set his book on the round table beside his leather chair and stood. “I'm going to bed.”

At the sound, Doodlebug raised his head from the pillow where he'd been sleeping on the corner of the couch and yawned. He watched George exit the room before deciding to stay where he was.

Oh sure, just walk out. As usual, nothing is resolved. Even the Bug knows better than to go with you.
Elaine watched George's stiff shoulders and rigid back as he strode out the French doors that closed off the library. Going after him would be a waste of time. He'd disappear into the bathroom, emerge sometime later, and crawl into bed, falling instantly asleep, all without glancing at her, as if she weren't even there. He'd perfected the routine to the point she knew he could practically do it in his sleep.

She picked up her glass of Chardonnay from the side table and sipped, staring out to the deck overlooking the lighted pool and on to the evergreens lower on the hillside. There had to be a way around this. Money was usually the way. Who in town might want to donate appreciable sums of money? The county? What about the power company? The oncologists? Having state-of-the-art diagnostic equipment here would keep the treatments closer too. Jefferson City was just too remote to require everyone to run to Olympia or Tacoma for diagnosis and treatment. The money was out there. She would just have to find it.

She stood and crossed to her cherry wood filing cabinet, pulling out the drawers one at a time, looking for all the grant materials she'd gathered over the years. Perhaps all the money needn't be raised locally. Perhaps the mammogram unit was just the beginning of an entire breast cancer specialty for Jefferson City.
If you build it, they will come.
That famous line regarding a baseball field in the middle of a corn patch was surely applicable here. Or was the adage “if life gives you lemons, make lemonade” even better? The women of Jefferson City were certainly being given lemons.

She'd do it in spite of a hospital board that couldn't see beyond its balance sheet. Someone had to have a bigger dream, why not her?

“I'll get it.” The next morning Elaine swung the front door open with a smile.

“Registered letter for Elaine Giovanni.” The courier held out a clipboard. “Sign right there, Mrs. Giovanni.” He looked down at the dog yapping at her feet. “Hey, Doodlebug, you sure are a good dog.”

Doodlebug nearly turned himself inside out with wiggles, then barked again as if proving he was in charge.

Elaine signed the clipboard and handed it back. “Yes, he thinks he's a Great Dane and tough enough to take on Goliath up the street.”

“I don't trust that dog at all. When he stands beside Mrs. Tungsten, he's up to her waist and just stares at me, like he's daring me to make a wrong move. You ever seen him lift just one lip? Makes me want to stay in the truck. But she is so nice.”

“I know, but once you are in his house, that big harlequin body just rolls over and begs you to rub his belly. He's all show.” She took the letter without glancing at the address.

“Well, I tell you, he's made a believer out of me and every mail carrier or meter reader on this route. We all give him a wide berth.” The slender man with the ready smile turned to leave. “You take care now.”

Bug barked once again as she swung the door closed and read the return address. “Who could this be from?”

Doodlebug put tiny paws up on her leg and whimpered, then yipped when she ignored him.

“Hush, Bug, I don't have time right now.” She slit the envelope open with the pewter letter opener on the walnut entry table that had been in her family for four generations, one of the few pieces she really cared about. Most of her other antiques had been purchased at estate sales and on her travels. She set the opener back in the inlaid wood tray and, pulling out the letter, read as she made her way back to her office.

“Good grief, the old bat turned this over to a lawyer after all. The nerve of her. Now I'm going to have to gather all the correspondence from the power company and everything, and then send it all over to Frederick. Why we didn't buy her out years ago is beyond me.” She glanced down at her whimpering dog. Doodlebug looked as if she'd been beating him, ears low, tail dragging on the floor, eyes imploring her forgiveness. She scooped him up as she sat down in the leather chair behind the desk. “It's not you, silly dog, it's Bumblehead and Bootsie next door. Why can't I just call dear hubby and dump this all in his lap? No, in this house /call the lawyer, /have to be the one to search out the papers.” She pulled out the file drawer from the credenza behind the desk and withdrew a folder that contained everything that had transpired regarding the fire. Knowing the old broad from prior incidents, she'd been prepared, but still, it was the thought of the whole thing. Maybe if George had gone over there years ago and laid down the law…

“He'd most likely have gotten his head beaten in by those cretins.” She rubbed the dog's ears with one hand, while flipping pages with the other. “Huh, Bug?”