The Healing Quilt (23 page)

“Have I forgotten anything?”

Missy followed at her ankles as Kit returned from one more trip to the car.

“I know you don't like to be left alone so much, but this is really important.”

Kit bent down and rubbed Missy's ears. “Now its your job to take care of the house, you know.”

A sigh answered her admonishment, a sigh that only a put-upon basset could state so emphatically. Missy lay down, her chin on the floor, since her front feet didn't extend far enough to cushion her jaw. Her gaze followed Kit from kitchen to sewing room to retrieving her purse on the entry table to checking to make sure the back door was locked.

“You be good now.” The soulful gaze from the dog on the floor followed her out the door.

“Worse than a toddler, that's what she is.” Kit tossed her purse on the passenger seat and gave herself one more moment to check her inventory before heading to the Senior Center.

She'd washed all the fabric, but it needed to be ironed before it could be cut, so her haul included an ironing board. The Senior Center had another, and Teza was bringing a third.

Kit waved at her neighbor and took a sip from the silver-and-black stainless steel coffee mug with a top to keep the contents hot for a long time. Ah, modern conveniences did make life easier at times. On the other hand, she didn't used to drink so much coffee. Her full cup was always getting cold. She hated to think how many gallons of cold coffee she had poured down the drain.

She honked and waved at Thomas riding his bike on the sidewalk.
Time to invite him back for a Missy tussle.

Unloading her things at the center, Kit stacked as much as possible on the luggage cart. At least she hadn't had to drag her sewing machine along too.

Inside, she glanced around the room, assessing how to set up most efficiently.

“Good article we had,” one of the women said, waving the clipping. “Did you write it?”

“No, that was Harriet's job. There was another one in the
Shopper's Weekly
, too.” Several women gathered round to help set up.

“I brought a full carton of gallon Ziploc bags and the diagram for piecing each square.” Sue held up the box.

“What if we get someone who can't sew well?”

“Anyone can sew a quarter-inch seam.”

“Don't count on it. That's why we make up some extra bags.” Kit set the enlarged diagram she'd drawn on a thirty-inch pad of paper up on the easel. The pieces were numbered in sew order, which to sew to which. “Just like the handout you have, right?”

“Sure. I sewed several to make sure this was the easiest way.” Sue laid out her completed squares, done in leftover bits and pieces to use as examples. “I'm going to turn these into potholders when we're done.” She flipped the diagram sheets to show a ten-inch square in a heavy outline. “After they've pressed them, they lay their finished pieces on this to make sure they've sewn it all to scale.”

“I'm impressed. Good thinking. You really think we'll get someone showing up who can't sew? After all, the articles read ‘all quilters.’ ”

“Better safe than sorry.”

As the women talked they set out patterns, quilting squares, rotary cutters and cutting mats.

“Those who aren't experienced with these things”—Kit held up a rotary cutter—“we'll set to pressing fabric and filling the plastic bags.”

“Sorry, I'm late.” Teza breezed in and set down her carry-all with quilting supplies. “Here.” She handed Kit a plastic bowl. “I brought apricots for a snack.”

As more women filed in, the tables gradually filled, and the noise level rose in proportion.

At Kit's insistence, Teza stood at the front of the room, and when the chattering continued, she clapped her hands to get their attention.

“Welcome, welcome, ladies.” She waited before continuing, then spread her arms wide and embraced them all. “As my mother always said, many hands make light work’, and with all of you willing to participate, why, we'll have this quilt finished in no time. As you know, we have chosen to make this quilt”—she pointed to the large colored-in picture of the finished quilt—“to earn money for a new mammogram unit for the hospital. We need to give Kit Cooper credit for the idea.” She pointed to Kit and everyone clapped. “But all of us will now have a part in making that dream come true. The quilt will fit a king-sized bed, so we won't bother to count all the stitches it will take.” At their ripple of laughter, she smiled back. “At this point, since I see some new faces here, I'd like everyone to stand and introduce yourself. I'll go first since I'm already standing. I'm Teza Dennison, and I've been quilting longer than some of you have years. I have no idea how many quilts I've made or helped with.” She pointed to Kit, who stood as commanded.

“I'm Kit Cooper, and while I haven't been quilting as long as Aunt Teza, she taught me, so I learned from a master.”

At Teza's nod Beth stood. “I'm Beth Donnelly, and I'm new in town. My husband is Pastor Garth Donnelly of the Jefferson City Community Church. I've been quilting for five years or so, but this is my first time on a community project like this.” She sat down and smiled back at Aunt Teza.

The woman next to her, as dark as Beth was fair, stood and flashed a smile around the room. “I'm Elsie May Sojourner, no relation to the famous one, and I learned quilting at my grand-mammy's knee, where if you didn't do it right, you kep’ redoin it until you did. I wore out more than one piece in the learnin.” Her rich voice matched the twinkle in her dark eyes.

“Welcome, Elsie May. Haven't seen you for a long time.”

“Well, I had to go on down home and take care of my mother. She died a month or so ago from breast cancer.” Her voice cracked in the telling. “That's why I want to do anythin I can to help fight this vicious disease. My mama didn't deserve to die so young.”

“Uh, Elsie May, I'm so sorry to hear that.” Teza nodded to the next woman.

“I'm new in town too. My name is Dawn Engels, and I have one question. I can sew my square on the machine, can't I? My hand stitching is for the birds.”

“That's right, machine stitching for the piecing and hand quilting when we have it all together.” Teza smiled at the newcomer. “Welcome to Jefferson City.” She smiled at the woman at the end of the table. “Mrs. Giovanni?”

Elaine stood and smiled around the room. “I'm Elaine Giovanni and I've been sewing since I was old enough to hold a needle but unable to thread it. I haven't done many quilts. Pillows are my specialty. I'm hoping we can get more than just this group working to raise money for the mammogram unit. Ladies, we need better medical care in this town, and I believe it is up to us to let our needs and demands be known.”

Applause ricocheted around the room as she sat back down.

Two more stood before Teza continued. “I thank you all for coming, and now we'll let Kit lay out the plan for the day.”

Kit stood beside the easel and flipped to the diagram. “I'm going to walk you through the piecing as a refresher, and then we'll all split up to work on whatever section you'd like, probably trading off so the cutters don't get sore muscles. If you brought your own equipment, make sure you have your name on it.”

Within a few minutes three people were standing at the ironing boards, and others had lined up to pick up the sturdy plastic patterns for the pieces they would cut.

Teza made her way to Beth's side. “Hi, Beth. I'm so glad you joined us the other night. How have you been?”

“Fine. I even managed to get my sewing machine set up.” Beth's smile wore trembles of hope.

Teza looked into her soul and saw sorrow. “Good for you. I would be lost without mine. Beth, I was wondering… After the blocks are done, would you like to be one of the hand-quilters on this masterpiece? We might be doing that here, but I have a feeling the quilting frame will be set up at Kit's. You saw her nice big living room, and it isn't being used for much right now.”

Beth gripped Teza's hand as though she'd caught a lifeline. “Oh yes, oh
yes
, I would love to. I mean you haven't seen my work yet or anything but…”

“You'll do wonderfully, I can tell.” The urge to take the young woman in her arms made Teza give her a slight pat on the shoulder. “You take care now, you hear?”

“Yes, of course.” Beth nodded and loosed her hand.

Like an animal retreating into its den
, Teza thought.
Something is definitely wrong here, but there is nothing I can do at this point. Oh, wait, there is.
“Do you and your husband like apricots?”

“Of course.”

“Perhaps you'd like to come out to my place and pick some. They are just coming on.”

“You have an orchard?”

“Oh my, yes. Come and see.”

“I'll ask him.”

“Good.” Teza pointed to Harriet Spooner standing at Beth's side. “I think she wants to talk with you.”

“Thank you.”

Those eyes, dear Lord, what is it this child needs?

Teza continued on around the room, stopping to talk with each woman, most of whom she knew to varying degrees.

“Hi, Teza.” Elaine looked up from where she was cutting deep burgundy triangles, her rolling blade sharp against the heavy plastic ruler.

“Good to see you again. Thanks for helping choose the fabrics.”

“You're welcome. Anything to get us a new mammogram unit.” She made another cut. “Have you thought of marketing possibilities yet?”

“No, not really. That is more in Kit's line. You should talk to her.”

“Oh, I will. I've been thinking how this group, the guild, and anyone else we can rope in could all work together. We can make big things happen that way.”

“I'm sure. I stopped by the guild booth at the Fourth of July. Your pillows are true works of art.”

“Thank you. I do love to make them.” Elaine stared down at her hands. “Must be that Puritan ethic, got to keep one's hands busy.” She moved her plastic quilting square. “Isn't there an old saw about empty hands being the devil's workshop?”

“Something like that.” Teza looked up when she heard Kit call her name. “Excuse me.”

“Hobnobbing with the hoi polloi, I see.” Kit stopped in her rush to make sure someone else had the supplies she needed.

“I think we should ask Elaine if she'd like to be one of the hand-quilters.”

“Elaine Giovanni?” Kits right eyebrow flirted with her bangs.

“I think she needs us.”

“Like another hole in the head.” Kit paused. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“Very much so.”

“If you want to, go for it, be my guest, whatever.”

Some chose to work right on through lunch, while others broke to eat with the usual senior crowd. Through the afternoon, helpers came and went as they had time. By four o'clock, the last of the Ziplocs was sealed and distributed. Each woman signed her name, address, and phone number on the checkout sheet.

“Now remember,” Kit repeated again, “these have to be returned to me by August second. We want to hang this for display as close to the first of October as possible.”

If she heard “no problem” once, she heard it fifty times. Some women took one or two squares and others ten, but all promised to have them completed within the allotted time.

“The sooner the better.” Kit's response came automatically.

“Are you sure you really want me to help hand quilt?” Beth stopped beside Teza at the table.

“Of course, my dear. And I do hope to see you out at Bit of Heaven Farm. Just go out Old River Road. You can't miss it on the left.”

“Thank you.”

Teza watched as Beth left the room, her plastic bags clutched in one hand. She glanced down to see that Beth had taken five and promised to take others if someone got in trouble with meeting the deadline.

“Thank you all for your help.” Kit turned from loading her ironing board into the van while the others also packed up their things.

“You are most welcome. It will indeed be a beautiful quilt.” Sue kneaded her back. “I need to learn to cut sitting down.”

“Or raise the tables.”

“That's what I did at home. Followed that extension woman's advice and made my machines, tables, chairs, and everything ergonom-ically correct for me. Cut back on my chiropractor calls fifty percent.”

“Really?” Kit pulled the rear van door down and slammed it shut.

“You should have Mark raise your sewing table up tall as you are.”

“Good idea, I'll suggest that.”
If and when he ever comes home.