Frayed Edges

by Carol Dean Jones

  “It could be anything. …” Sarah said cautiously.

  “Sure, it could be,” Sophie responded, “and the most likely thing would be they are meeting with their children to tell them they are getting back together.”

  “Sophie, I know you don’t want to hear this. …”

  “So must I?”

  “Yes, you must. You know Norman, and I think I know him too. He’s an honorable man. And yes, he might decide to go back to Irma, but he would never do that without telling you first. He cares too much for you to hurt you like that.”

  “I would have thought so,” Sophie mumbled.

  “I would like to tell you to trust what you know about the man, but I know that statement would only upset you.”

  “I think you just did tell me that,” Sophie responded with a half-smile. “And I know you’re right. I’ll wait until he’s ready to talk. But in the meantime, I’m preparing myself to lose him. I won’t be any worse off than I was before I met him.”

  “True,” Sarah responded, knowing that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Except, of course,” Sophie added, “I didn’t have a broken heart back then.”

  Sarah stood and walked around the table. “I know you don’t like hugs, but I need one right now, so you’ll have to ‘suck it up’ as Andy says.” The two women embraced, and Sophie allowed a few tears to find their way down her cheek.

  “Sorry to bring you out in the cold,” Sophie said as Sarah was returning to her chair.

  “No problem. I had to come out anyway to get a piece of this apple pie.”

  Chapter 5

  “So, where do we start?” Andy asked. “And remember, I don’t want to do much talking.”

  “Do you want me to start? I could introduce you and tell the group why you are there.”

  “Why am I there?” Andy asked anxiously.

  “Andy, you’ve got to relax. Please believe me when I tell you that once you meet these ladies and see what a fun, relaxed group it is, you’ll be fine. I have an idea. Instead of starting right out today trying to plan the presentation, let’s just drink our coffee and talk a bit.” I’ve got to get this man to relax, Sarah told herself.

  “Okay, what shall we talk about?” Andy asked compliantly.

  “I’d like to know more about your family.”

  “There’s not much to tell, but okay. What would you like to know?”

  “You told me that you and your brother lived with your grandmother after your mother died. But what about your sister? I remember a younger woman—Brenda, I think—who came to your funeral, or what we thought was your funeral. Anyway, what about her? How does she fit in?”

  “Actually, she doesn’t fit in at all, and I have no idea why she came to my so-called funeral. After my mother died, Dad remarried—not right away, but sooner than my grandmother thought was right. I remember all the fuss she made. George and I just listened and didn’t really understand. In retrospect, I suppose this woman was looking for a father for her little girl. But once they married, that was the end of our contact with him. He died long ago, and his wife and her daughter aren’t family by any definition. I know some families can include stepbrothers and stepsisters, but it’s something that develops, and with us nothing ever developed. Once our mother died, our father forgot we existed.”

  “So, she was a stepsister,” Sarah pondered. “And George? I know he’s passed away. …”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Andy sputtered sarcastically. A few years earlier, Andy had had an altercation with his brother and ended up in prison for a short time.

  “So, tell me about you and George when you were living with your grandmother,” Sarah asked, changing the subject somewhat. “I know you were twins, and I’ve heard there’s no closer relationship than that, yet you never mention him when you talk about your childhood.”

  “George was my twin for sure, and I’ve heard all those things about twins, but we couldn’t have been any different if we’d each been born to entirely different parents. George was always in trouble. Most of his life was spent in lockup: first juvie, then prison.”

  “And you were different.”

  “Not so different, I guess. I just acted out in a different way. Remember I told you when I first met you that I was in Alcoholics Anonymous?”

  “I remember,” Sarah replied.

  “Well, that was the end of a long period of drunkenness and behavior I’d rather forget. But I must admit, if I hadn’t been inebriated most of the time back then, I never would have hooked up with that woman, and my sweet Caitlyn would never have been conceived. It all worked out.”

  “You made it work out, Andy.”

  “I guess,” he said with his usual humility. “Anyway, why are we talking about all this? We have a presentation to plan.”

  Sarah smiled as he spread out the quilt.

  “It’s a pretty sad-looking thing,” Andy said, looking discouraged.

  “It’s exactly what it should be. It holds the history of all the people who have used it for warmth, for spreading on the ground for picnics and stargazing and …”

  “Okay, I get it. It’s lived life to the fullest,” Andy said with a chuckle. “So, what are we going to say about this ragged quilt?”

  “You’re going to tell how you came by it, and I hope you’ll read the note Maddie included in the package. Do you have it handy?”

  “I do.” Andy went to his desk and picked up an envelope, which he opened, and began reading.

  To my nephew, Andrew Burgess,

  You and Caitlyn are the only ones left to carry on our family name. I regret all the years we could have been involved in each other’s lives. I accept full responsibility for that loss. I was young and crazy when I took off with that boy. I was seventeen, jealous of all the attention my sister was getting because of her upcoming marriage, and I just ran off with the one boy my parents disliked the most. I was trying to hurt them, but I hurt myself in the process.

  None of that explains why I never contacted the family again. Shame, maybe? Perhaps when you come to visit me, we can talk about those lost years.

  What I also regret is taking this quilt when I left. I knew how much my mother loved it and that it was the only remembrance she had of her own family. I was very young, but I remember listening to her talk about her grandmother making the quilt in the late 1800s. It was a valued keepsake, and I took it to hurt my mother. I was a terrible child and will never forgive myself, but I hope you can forgive me.

  I’m in my nineties, as you know, and I want you and Caitlyn to have this quilt and give it the love and care it deserves. Please do that for our family.

  With affection,

  Madeline Thompson, your Aunt Maddie

  “That’s a very touching story, Andy. It sounds like your aunt Maddie suffered a lifetime of regret.”

  “I agree. And I’m sure Maddie realizes this is her last chance to make amends—not to the people she hurt, but at least to the family. I’m glad we found her when we did and that she and Caitlyn are having a wonderful time together.”

  “Do you plan to visit as she said?”

  “Absolutely. I hope to spend Christmas with them.”

  “I don’t know how much you want to share with the group, Andy. This is pretty private stuff. Maybe you wouldn’t want to read the letter to them.”

  “No, you’re wrong. I want to share the story. It’s not just Aunt Maddie’s story. It’s this quilt’s story, and it deserves to be told.”

  Sarah smiled, appreciating her friend’s sensitive nature. “Then I think we just prepared your presentation.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure,” Sarah responded. “This letter will lead to conversation, and I’m sure Ruth and Delores, along with several of the other older quilters, can tell us a great deal about the actual quilt. We’re finished.”

  Andy took a deep sigh and said, “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 6

  Several mornings later, as S
arah and Charles were peacefully attending to their morning routines, Sarah heard her husband answer the phone in the kitchen. She assumed it was for her, but when he didn’t call her, she went back to making the bed and straightening their room. Sarah glanced outside and saw that the rain had started up again. She opened the French doors and stepped out onto the heated porch, which they now called their sunroom, and enjoyed the peacefulness of the gentle rainfall.

  “Sophie’s on the line,” Charles announced sometime later, appearing at their bedroom door.

  “I didn’t hear it ring,” she responded, but then she remembered. “Oh yes, I did, but that was a long time ago. Have you been talking to her all this time?” she asked as she took the phone from her pajama-clad husband.

  “She needed a man’s view on something.”

  Sarah didn’t need to ask about the topic, knowing that it had to do with what had been on her friend’s mind for some time now. “Norman again?” she whispered with her hand over the mouthpiece.

  “Norman,” he responded, shaking his head. “He’s on his way back from the cabin, and … oh, let her tell you. She’s waiting.”

  “Hi, Sophie. It sounds like there’s been a development.”

  “There has. Norman is on his way home and wants to talk to me. I’m so nervous I can barely eat these donuts.”

  “How about you come over here, and you can catch me up on what’s happening.”

  “I already arranged for both of you to come to my house. I hope you don’t mind. Charles said it was fine with him.”

  “Whatever you and Charles worked out is certainly fine with me, but what’s going on?”

  “Norman wants to talk, and I think I’m going to need support after he drops his bombshell. Is it okay?” she asked in a pleading tone.

  “Of course, Sophie. I think that’s a good idea. When will he be there?”

  “He said he’d get here about eleven. Can you get here by then?”

  Sarah looked at the clock and saw that it was already ten. “Okay, I’ll get dressed now, and we’ll head on over.”

  “Come as soon as you can, okay?” Sophie asked. “And bring Barney along to keep Emma company.”

  “He’s holding his leash in his mouth already. We’ll be right over.”

  “This will be interesting,” Charles mused as he began to dress.

  * * * * *

  “Would you get the door, Charles?” Sophie asked. “I’m just too nervous.”

  “Sure,” Charles responded as he got up from the table where the three had been drinking coffee and eating the last of Sophie’s donuts. Both dogs jumped up and followed him.

  “We should have saved a donut or two for Norman,” Sophie said, but then corrected herself with, “but after he says his piece, he may not deserve donuts.”

  “I’ll throw the box away, and we can just take coffee into the living room,” Sarah suggested.

  They both heard Charles greeting Norman, and Sarah called out for them to make themselves comfortable in the living room. “We’re bringing coffee.”

  “I’m trembling,” Sophie whispered. “Why am I so nervous? I know what he’s going to say.”

  “Let’s go, Sophie. After we say hello, Charles and I will come back into the kitchen.”

  “No!” Sophie demanded. “I want you with me. I can’t do this alone.”

  Sarah sighed, hoping Norman wouldn’t object. The two women were each carrying two mugs of coffee. Sarah handed one to Charles, which forced Sophie to be the one to serve Norman. Sophie shot Sarah a disapproving look before frostily saying, “Hello, Norman. I hope you had a safe trip in this rain.”

  “I did fine, thank you,” he responded, sounding unnaturally formal.

  “Sarah,” Charles began as he stood. “Let’s give these two some privacy.”

  “No!” Sophie exclaimed.

  “That’s not necessary,” Norman agreed. “What I have to say you will all know very soon. And besides, we’re all friends here.”

  “Humph,” Sophie muttered.

  Charles looked to Sarah for guidance, and she nodded toward the couch for him to join her.

  Everyone was quiet for a few moments as they sipped their coffee. The dogs, sensing the tension, had refused to go outside and had curled up together on Emma’s living room quilt.

  Finally, Norman took a deep breath and turned to Sophie, although she continued to avoid looking directly at him. “Honey,” he began. “I’m so sorry I didn’t confide in you. I didn’t know what to say to you about Irma being in town, so I took the easy way out and didn’t say anything. When Irma called and asked me to get the kids together at the cabin, I had no idea what was going on. She just said she needed to speak to everyone at once. The cabin was a logical place to meet since it’s centrally located. Well, you know that since you and I picked it out for that very reason.”

  “Okay, I can understand that, but why did you need to be there?”

  “Well, we had an amicable divorce, and to tell you the truth, I was curious. I was afraid she was critically ill. She had cancer a few years before we separated, and I thought maybe it had come back. Anyway, if she was going to tell the kids something like that, I wanted to be there for them. Anyway, it’s my cabin. Actually, mine and Sophie’s,” he added, catching Sophie’s eye for the first time.

  Sophie dropped her eyes immediately and asked, “So what was it all about?” She waited for the other shoe to drop, still certain that their relationship was coming to an end.

  “Well, in fact, it was something fantastic. A very wealthy aunt of hers had died. …”

  “That doesn’t sound too fantastic, especially for the aunt,” Sophie responded glibly.

  “Oh, that’s not the fantastic part,” Norman explained. “Irma hardly knew this aunt, but she was the aunt’s closest living relative. Anyway, this aunt left Irma her entire fortune, including the hundred-year-old family mansion, which Irma immediately sold.”

  “So now she’s very rich,” Sophie noted, wondering if that was the reason Norman was going back to her.

  Norman continued, “So she wants to take the entire family—the kids, the grandkids, and our one great-

  grandchild—on an Alaskan cruise.”

  So there it is, Sophie thought. The other shoe.

  “That’s very generous,” Sophie responded coolly. “And when do you leave?”

  “When do I leave?” Norman responded incredulously. “Sophie, we’re divorced. I’m not going. When I said we divorced amicably, I certainly didn’t mean we vacation together!”

  Sophie took a deep breath, beginning to suspect that she might have been wrong about what was going on. She glanced at Sarah, who nodded reassuringly. Charles winked at her as if to say, “Everything is okay.”

  “And that’s not the best part,” Norman added. “She’s setting up large trust funds for all the youngsters and had generous checks for all the parents.”

  “I’m sorry, Norman.”

  “Sorry?” Norman looked baffled. “I don’t understand. What are you sorry about? I’m the one …”

  “I’m sorry for not trusting you and for all the terrible things I thought and said. I behaved very badly. I’m ashamed. I should have known better.”

  “You didn’t say any terrible things to me. …” Norman stammered.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t,” Sophie said with a chuckle, “but Sarah and Charles sure got an earful.”

  Everyone laughed as Sophie broke the tension.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to forgive me?” Norman asked, walking over and taking her hand.

  “There’s nothing to forgive, Norman. You’re a good man, and you’ve always been trustworthy. I put myself through all this because I didn’t believe in you, and I should have.” Norman raised Sophie’s hand to his lips and gently kissed it.

  As they continued to look into each other’s eyes, Sarah knew it was going to work out for her friend, who was clearly in love with this man.

  “So, you’
re still my girl?” Norman asked with his head tilted and a cockeyed grin on his face.

  “Sure,” she answered, giggling. “I’m still your girl.”

  “So let’s all go celebrate. How about lunch at our favorite Italian restaurant?”

  “Sounds like an excellent idea,” Charles responded.

  “It’s fine with me, but what are we celebrating?” Sophie asked.

  “We’re celebrating the fact that my kids will never again be asking me for a penny.”

  Chapter 7

  “Well, are you ready?” Sarah asked enthusiastically as she climbed into Andy’s van.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he responded without enthusiasm. His tone conveyed a feeling of dread.

  “Come on, Andy. This will be fun. Sophie will be there, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the quilters. And I know they’ll love you and your quilt.”

  “We’ll see,” he muttered.

  To take her friend’s attention off his concern about the meeting, Sarah launched into an account of her most recent experience at the nursing home with their mutual friend Sophie. “You should have seen her, Andy. She decided she could ride the recumbent bike when the patient she was visit-ing insisted that she accompany him to his physical therapy session.” Andy began to smile as he listened. “So she lowered herself onto it and was able to pedal for a while. That’s when she called me at home to come over right away.”

  “Why?” Andy asked, now engrossed in her story.

  “She couldn’t get up and didn’t want to tell anyone. She told me later that she had hoped to keep pedaling until I got there.”

  “Surely there were people who could have helped her. …”

  “Sure, but remember? She was pretending everything was fine.”

  “And were you able to help her?”

  “By the time I got there, the staff had realized her predicament and had helped her up. She was sitting on the weight bench eyeing the weights. ‘Forget it,’ I told her and took her straight home.”