The Healing Quilt (35 page)

“Hmm.” Elaine made it on the second attempt. “Thanks.”

“Now, if only Bootsie”—Kit bit back a giggle—“were so easy.”

“On a different subject, Beth, how are things at your house?”

“I have a stray cat that is beginning to come around. We've been feeding him for weeks, but he's still easily spooked.” Beth kept her eyes on her needle.
And I nearly fell apart again this morning I thought the pitts and this quilting were really helping, but getting out of bed was more than I could manage.

“You've seemed happier lately,” Kit said.

“Have I? Good. Being with all of you helps.”

“I've missed out on something.” Elaine stopped stitching. “What's happened?”

The silence stretched until Kit said, after getting a nod from Beth, “Beth lost a baby a few months before coming here.”

“Oh, you sweet thing. I lost my first one too. That's so hard to take.” Elaine reached over and gave Beth a hug. “Any time you need to talk, why, I've got a ready ear.”

“Thank you. Thank you to all of you.”

“Hows that hubby of yours taking it?”

“H-He thinks I should be over it by now. After all, the baby never lived…”

“And this is the pro-life man? Of course that baby lived, inside of you right where it belonged.”

“I know, but I mean.

“We know what you mean, dearie.” Elsie Mae reached across the quilt and patted Beth's hand. “No wonder your
eyes
have been so sad, haunted almost.”

Oh, if you only knew. If I could tell you, maybe…
But Beth pasted a smile on lips that wanted to quiver and turned to Teza. “What kind of fruit do you have out at your farm now?”

“A few apricots left on the trees, peaches are in full swing, cucumbers and beans in the garden, beets and carrots are ready too.” Teza stopped. “Oh, and corn. I almost forgot that. Kit, I tucked a couple of cobs in your refrigerator for dinner.”

“She grows the sweetest corn you'll find anywhere.” Kit turned when Missy whimpered. “Coming, girl.” She got up to let the dog out but stopped. “And she never picks it until you get there. Best corn in the world.”

“You and Garth can come on out again and see for yourself I really enjoyed meeting him.”

“You could visit our church sometime. Garth is starting a new series of Bible studies about living in faith.”
Which would be helpful if his wife could do that.
“They were really popular at our other church.”

“We could come visit, couldn't we?” Teza looked to Kit.

“Sure, where?”

“Beth's church?” Teza raised an eyebrow.

“I guess. Elsie Mae, how many children do you have?”

“Four. Two boys and two girls. One is married, so I have a grand-baby too. Best thing that ever happened. Like they say, if I'd known how much fun grandbabies were, I'd have had them first.”

When they broke for lunch, Kit set out the food they'd brought and refilled the coffee maker. “Come and eat.”

“How about if we say grace first?” Teza asked.

“Ah, fine. Go ahead.” Kit set down the plates and bowed her head.

“Father, we thank you for the day, for our time together, for the women you will bless through our making this quilt, and for the food you have provided for us. In Jesus’ precious name, amen.”

“Thank you, that was right nice.” Elsie Mae patted Teza shoulder. “Is this the sore one?”

Teza nodded, so Elsie Mae began rubbing the shoulder.

“Ah, that feels so good. Thank you.” Teza leaned her head over to the other side to give more space to the seeking hands.

When they returned to their stitching, Elsie Mae asked Teza, “Forgive me for being forward, but why are you hesitating about the treatment?”

Kit held her breath and just kept on stitching. In and out, rock the needle in, pull the thread taut and in again, all the while being careful that the layers did not slip.

The silence, other than pulling thread, wore an intensity, as if every ear strove to hear beyond the words. To hear the heart within.

Teza cleared her throat. “I've been through this before”—the silence grew heavy, pushing them down into the quilt—“and it came back.” Teza straightened and stretched, but instead of returning to the basting, she stared out the window.

Kit fought the constriction in her throat.
Teza, please. God, please. Someone help.

“What are you afraid of, darlin ?” The words shimmering like dust motes in a sunbeam, the rasp of thread through cotton screaming in pain. The fragrance of lavender embroidered on shifting air currents that carried it in and through and on.

Teza sighed, a sound dredged from the far recesses of her heart, and, gathering all the forgotten pains that lingered there, released them to float with the lavender like incense before the throne of God. “I didn't know I was afraid. Am afraid. I think— I thought I was being wise and waiting for God to tell me what to do. Using my mind to make good decisions. That may still be right, but you asked, what am I afraid of.” She crossed her arms and rubbed her elbows as if she were cold. “I'm not afraid of dying, for then I shall be with my Lord.”

Kit drew a tissue from her pocket and turned away to blow her nose.

“I don't want to leave the ones I love, but that is not fear. When I look back on the time before, I came so close to breaking, my faith, I mean. I never want to turn my back on my Jesus, for then I cannot see him, and if he is not there, then I am lost.” She dug in her pocket but came up empty.

Kit took her a tissue and pressed it into her hands.

Lost, dear Teza? And if you fear being lost, what about me? I've railed at him and shoved him away, raged and cried and yet…

“But he said, I will never leave you nor forsake you/ ” Elsie Mae whispered.

“I know. That's what I've hung on to all my life. I believe, Lord, help thou my unbelief/’ Teza blew her nose. “So to really answer your question, I guess I am afraid of the pain, for that is what closes my inner eyes and tears me apart.”

“But there are ways to help with the pain. Have you heard of Healing Touch?”

“No, only his.”

“Well, this is from him. People, especially nurses like me, are being trained in how to help cancer patients deal with the pain, especially breast cancer pain. You and I will go through this together.

“So I will not be alone?”

“Not that you ever are.”

“I know, but sometimes I felt so alone. When you wander in that land of drugs and pain and your mind isn't working right and your body is not functioning like it should, you try to hang on to Gods hand, but your grasp slips and.

“And he hangs on to you.”

And me? Has he been hanging on to me all this time, and I thought I'd run far enough he couldn't catch me?
Kit heard a whisper, or was it only in her head?
See, I told you so. I promised, and I never go back on my word. I forgive you.
Kit pushed the needle through to the edge of the fabric and pulled the thread through its eye so only a tail hung free. But have
1 forgiven you? No, yes, who am I to forgive you? Tears
streaming so she was nearly blinded, she headed for the back deck. The sun had broken through the clouds sometime during the afternoon and now glittered in the droplets left from the shower. She sank down into the Adirondack chair and put her feet up on the matching foot bench.

Forgiveness. To forgive is to forget, is it not? How do I forget? You say
as far as the east is from the west is how far you put my sin away. You remember it no more. I cannot do that. Do I want to do that? How should I know? The thought of this is too big for me. And here I am out here by myself when I should be in there with Teza.
She tried to get up, but the weight pressing her down was too heavy.

Lord, I am tired of fighting. I give up.
Kit blew her nose again and laid her hands in her lap. Missy whined at the door. A hummingbird roared by her, clicking his way to the feeder, darting after the jeweled adversary who dared to impinge on his territory.
Am I like that hummingbird, carrying on when I could be sitting at the feeder, sipping and sharing with enough for each of us? And without fail, you would refill the feeder? Not forgetting like I sometimes do.
Lassitude stole over her, as if all her energy drained out her feet and slipped through the cracks in the deck, never to be seen again. Since she had not the strength to keep them open, her eyelids closed and she drifted on a stream of love.

She opened her eyes to see Teza sitting in the other chair, not sure how much time had passed.

“Where are the others?”

“Gone home.”

“Sorry I left.”

“That's all right.”

“Are you— I mean did you…?”
Did you what, youre not making much sense.
Kit took a deep breath. And stopped. She inhaled another.
Is this what freedom feeL like?

She looked over to see Teza sleeping in the other chair. Her hand lay open in her lap, slightly cupped, innocent as a child's hand waiting to be filled. What had really happened here? Had she imagined it all? Or what? Kit breathed in again, a breath that seemed to pop open little pockets, letting the breath go into dark places that hadn't felt the breath of life for too long a time.

The calendar never lies.

Time is up, Teza. Today the week is over.

Oh sure, thaù a great way to greet someone. But then maybe than why she called me to come out, to tell me what she decided.
Kit glanced down at the file folders she'd been filling with information. One thing for sure, there were no guarantees with anything. And while breast cancer treatments had experienced some progress since her mother died, there'd been more advancements in automobile engines. She'd read that in an editorial in some big newspaper. What an indictment!

She wheeled the van into Tezas yard and parked by the arbor leading to the house. Gathering up her research, she stepped out and paused to enjoy the red blossoms of Paul Scarlet roses rioting over the arbor.

“Out here.”

Kit turned and looked toward the garden at Tezas call. “What are you picking now?”

“Cucumbers. I have someone coming for fifty pounds any minute. You want to help?”

“Why am I not surprised?” Kit knew she was muttering, but she also knew it would do no good. Obviously cucumbers came before cancer. She made her way to the cucumber rows and grabbed a white plastic bucket.

“You want the gherkin-size picked too?”

“No, leave them for later. I don't have time for gherkins, and no one has requested them. I'll sort the big ones out for relish.”

Kit had just filled her bucket when she heard a car drive in.

“Perfect timing.” Teza tossed the last cuke from her row into the bucket and stood to wave to her customer. “Be there in a minute.” She smiled at Kit. “If she doesn't want all of these, you can take the rest.”

“I'm not doing pickles this year.”

“Why not?”

“I have plenty left. With no one but me at home, we don't go through so many.”

“Okay, then I'll make them up for the stand. I never can have too many pickles to sell.”

Kit sighed. There was no stopping her, so why try? “You want me to pick more?”

“No, you go on up and pour the iced tea. I made biscuits this morning, so I thought we could have those. You haven't had lunch, have you?”

“Is it lunchtime already?”

“Past.” They lugged the five-gallon buckets over to the stand, and Kit helped weigh them.

“No, don't sort them. I'll take them all,” the customer said. “I use the big ones for relish.” They set the boxes of cucumbers in her trunk and waved her off.

“Well, that's good. Neither one of us has to worry about pickles tonight.” Teza dusted off her hands and linked her arm through Kit's. “Let's go for that iced tea. I'm thirsty as a dog in the desert.”

Kit headed for the bathroom to wash her hands while Teza took over the kitchen sink.

“You want your biscuits warmed?” Teza called.

“Of course. Biscuits should always be warm.” Kit dried her hands on the guest towel and made a face at the one in the mirror. She'd left her files out in the car. “Be right back.”