Frayed Edges

by Carol Dean Jones

  “It’s fine, Maddie. I’ve loved hearing your story.”

  “Old folks are like that, it seems. If we find someone who’ll listen, we talk on and on.”

  Sarah chuckled and said, “I love listening, so talk all you want.”

  “Well, I wanted to tell you about the quilt. As much as my mother loved that quilt, I must have ended up loving it even more. It became a symbol of family for me, and it has spent most of its life on my bed. Amazingly, it’s stood up this long, although I’m sure you noticed it has blocks that are beginning to disintegrate, and its edges are frayed beyond repair and would have to be completely replaced. I’ve often thought about repairing the damaged blocks, but then it wouldn’t be the same quilt that covered my mother and father all those many years ago.”

  “It’s perfect just the way it is,” Sarah remarked. “And Andy loves it too. He also grew up without family. You can’t imagine what it means to him to have you in his life now.”

  “Oh, I certainly do know. Imagine what it’s like for me to have this young girl in my home. Did you know that she’s the image of Cora Lee?”

  Sarah didn’t want to point out that Maddie had already told her that. Like so many people that age, Maddie frequently repeated things. Sarah felt it was insensitive to mention it, although she noticed that many people thought nothing of saying, “You already told me that.” Instead, she gently changed the subject by asking whether Maddie had any pictures of Cora Lee.

  “I don’t have any pictures since I didn’t take any with me, but I remember her face like it was yesterday. Caitlyn takes after her grandmother. There’s no doubt about it.”

  The two women remained quiet for a few moments, Sarah digesting what she had learned, and Maddie reliving those years in her mind.

  Sarah finally said, “I think the poster needs to say that this quilt provided love and comfort to several generations of the family.”

  “I think that’s perfect,” Maddie replied with tears in her eyes.

  Chapter 9

  “Okay,” Ruth announced at the next meeting. “I’ve spoken with the Community Center, and we’re scheduled for the first weekend in November.” Everyone expressed their excitement and began chattering among themselves. “Settle down,” Ruth requested above the noise. “We need to do some serious planning and organizing. That’s less than a month away.”

  “We need to write up everything we know about our quilts so we can post the information next to each quilt,” Delores said.

  “Sarah has already done that for Andy’s quilt,” Sophie said. “Show it to them,” she added to Sarah.

  Sarah pulled out the draft of her sign and passed it around.

  “This looks nice, but I can’t type,” Myrtle said as she examined the sign.

  “I think they should all look alike,” Anna said. “If everyone wants to write up what you want your sign to say, I’d be happy to do the signs on my computer and print them out on card stock so they’ll be uniform.”

  “Thank you, Anna,” several people said in unison.

  “What should we include?” Becky asked.

  “A description of the quilt, the pattern if you know it, who made it and when …” Ruth began.

  Anna finished, saying, “… and any other facts you’d like to include.”

  “It doesn’t have to be typed,” Anna added, “but put your name and phone number on the bottom for me in case I have any questions.”

  “How are we going to hang these quilts?” Becky asked, suddenly realizing that they hadn’t discussed the logistics at all.

  “I talked to the president of the quilt guild in Hamilton, Betsy Cramer. She’s a good friend of mine, and the guild has agreed to loan us their frames for the weekend,” Ruth responded. “They don’t have a show scheduled this winter.”

  “How will we get them?” Sophie asked.

  “Betsy offered to have them brought to us, and she’ll have them picked up after the show. She even offered to have someone help us hang the quilts. I think she’s trying to protect the frames,” she added with a chuckle, “but I accepted her offer and said that the club would pay for their time. That will make it much easier on us.”

  “We need to talk about the fee,” Sarah said, and Sophie nodded her agreement.

  “Since we’re offering this at the retirement village,” Sophie suggested, “why don’t we have it free for residents and charge a small fee to visitors from outside the community, perhaps six dollars. What do you think?”

  “I like that,” Sarah responded. “But how are these people going to get through the security gate?”

  Cunningham Village was a gated community. For the first few years, they had had a guard at the entrance, but with the advances in security technology, the guard had been replaced with a keypad, which allowed residents to tap in their code to open the gate. Visitors could call the resident they were coming to see, who could, in turn, open the gate from their home phone. Sometimes people gave their code out to frequent visitors, but that was discouraged.

  “The community representative I spoke with,” Ruth responded, “said they’d figure that one out. They might put one of their security people at the gate for the duration of the show and just wave in anyone who says they are there for the event.”

  “We’re just a quiet little community,” Sophie whispered to Sarah, “not a munitions arsenal. If you ask me, they make too big a deal out of security.”

  “Oh, speaking of visitors,” Ruth added, “I need to get advertisements out to the community. I’ll call the local paper tomorrow.”

  “Now, let’s take a look at the quilts.” Ruth had asked everyone to bring in pictures of their quilts so the group could get an idea of what they had for the show.

  While the group members were pulling out their photos, Ruth went into the back room and emerged with her arms loaded down. “I brought these from home after my parents died,” she said as she spread them out. Ruth had been raised in an Amish community but had left during her late teens.

  “I only brought the very old ones. As you can see, these oldest ones were one solid color, but the quilting was very elaborate. See these swirling feathers? They began using more colors later, but only solids like this one with large blocks in bright colors. You’ll often find black in Amish quilts as well. I have some with patterns like chains and stars, but I didn’t bring those. They are probably not very old.”

  “How old do you think those solid ones are?” Delores asked.

  “They would have been made sometime after 1880. The Amish didn’t start quilting until about that time. They were still using featherbeds as coverings until then.”

  After examining Ruth’s quilts, the rest of the group spread out their pictures for everyone to see. Myrtle, one of the older members of the group, reached for her tote bag and pulled out three tattered quilts.

  “My grandson takes all the pictures with his phone but he wasn’t home, so I just brought my quilts,” she said. “I hope that’s okay. These belonged to my family long before I was born. I have no idea how old they are, but I know they were old when I was a kid, and I’m into my eighties now.” The group was fascinated with the tiny hand stitches as Myrtle unfolded them. Frank appeared to be holding back his comments, but everyone knew he was disturbed by the rips and tears. He shook his head and frowned but remained quiet.

  As they went through the pictures, they realized how much they were missing by not being able to see the actual quilts. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to see all these quilts up close,” Christina said as she studied the photos.

  “How many do we have?” Sophie asked.

  “I was attempting to keep a tally as you presented your quilts,” Ruth responded, “and it looks like we’ll have about three dozen altogether.”

  “This will be an incredible show!” Sophie announced.

  At that moment, Sarah’s cell phone rang. As she had requested, Charles had restored the ringtone of an old-fashioned telephone, and Sarah smiled as s
he reached into her purse.

  Moments later, her expression completely changed. “I’ll be right there,” she said. Turning to Sophie, she began putting on her coat and said, “I need to leave.”

  With no other explanation, Sarah hurried out to her car and headed for the local veterinary hospital.

  Chapter 10

  All Sarah was told when she arrived was that her dog, Barney, had collapsed. She now stood by the examin-ing table with her husband’s arm around her as the doctor began to explain the dog’s condition and the procedure he was recommending.

  Barney, heavily medicated, lay motionless on the table.

  “Will he live?” Sarah asked the doctor in a trembling voice.

  “As I told your husband, this procedure is your dog’s only hope for a normal life. His heart rate is dangerously high, and without the pacemaker, his arrhythmia will, at the very least, impede his ability to live a normal life. In the worst case, it could cause his heart to stop. I recommend we insert a pacemaker immediately, but this is an expensive surgery and something the two of you must decide together. I’ll leave you alone so …”

  “That’s not necessary, doctor,” Sarah responded before the doctor could finish. “I’m completely committed to this dog and have been since the day he and I met at the pound. We want the surgery, right?” Sarah said, turning her eyes toward her husband pleadingly.

  “We definitely do,” Charles responded as he pulled his now weeping wife into his arms. “Do whatever you need to do, doctor. Just get our dog back on his feet.”

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” the doctor began. “I’ve already done extensive testing and haven’t found tumors or any other obvious cause for the arrhythmia. Has he been listless lately?”

  “Yes, he has,” Sarah responded. “I just attributed it to old age, but we really don’t know how old he is.”

  “Oh, this dog isn’t very old. I’d say he’s no more than seven or eight. He has a lot of good years ahead of him. I’d like to get him into surgery right away if that’s agreeable with you folks, but I want to do some follow-up after the surgery and see if we can find the underlying cause. Who is your current veterinarian?”

  “Doctor Baker saw Barney until he retired, and we haven’t had a need to take him in since then. At least we didn’t realize we did,” Sarah added regretfully.

  “Then, with your permission, I’ll do a few tests tonight while he’s under the anesthesia. That will be easier on him.”

  “Yes, do whatever you need to do,” Sarah responded. “May I be alone with him for a few minutes?”

  “Of course,” the doctor replied with an understanding smile. “I’ll leave you folks alone.”

  He stepped out of the room, and Charles slipped out behind him, saying, “I’ll be right out here, honey.”

  “You don’t need to leave,” Sarah said, but without much conviction. Charles knew she needed to be alone with her dog. He threw her a kiss and quietly closed the door.

  Sarah moved closer to her dog’s side and laid her hands on him gently and lovingly. He slowly opened his eyes and looked into hers. “You’re going to be okay, boy. You’ll be home in no time,” she said, trying not to show her concern, but she knew he could read her every emotion. She knew he wanted to comfort her, but he was the one who needed comfort-ing this time. She laid her head on his side and gently stroked him. He closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.

  The doctor convinced them to go home, and he promised that he’d call the moment surgery was over. “He’ll sleep the rest of the night, so you folks can come back in the morning and see him.”

  * * * * *

  “We have time for breakfast, Sarah,” Charles told his wife in response to her desire to leave for the animal hospital immediately. “The doctor won’t even be there. He said to come after they open and he’s had a chance to check him out.”

  “You mean they left him alone all night?” she responded frantically.

  “No, Sarah. That young assistant you met was there all night, and the doctor lives a block away. He said for us to come around 10:00 this morning.”

  “But,” Sarah began, and then realized she was letting her fears control her. The doctor had called just before midnight and said the surgery had been a success, and Barney was sleeping comfortably.

  Sarah sighed and finally agreed. “Okay, we’ll go at 10:00. Let’s have oatmeal with raisins.” Charles smiled, knowing that his wife always turned to oatmeal with raisins when she needed comfort food in the morning.

  “Did the doctor tell you much about the actual surgery?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes, he said that he made a small incision in Barney’s neck for the pacemaker and the leads, which he would be feeding through a vein to his heart.” He saw his wife quickly wipe away a tear as she served the oatmeal.

  “How long do you think they’ll keep him?” she asked.

  “A few days, I guess. I’m sure he’ll be home just as soon as the doctor thinks it’s safe.”

  But as it turned out, they were able to pick up Barney later that day, after promising to keep him at home and quiet. The doctor felt he would remain calmer at home. “He’ll need a month of rest,” the doctor told them as they were preparing to leave. Once they got all their instructions and Barney’s medications, Charles carefully carried him to the car, wrapped in a small quilt.

  He rode home on Sarah’s lap and slept. When they arrived home, Charles carried him into the house and laid him in his bed, which now had freshly washed blankets and Charles’ travel pillow.

  Now this is the life, Barney must have been thinking, as he noticed that his water bowl, which was now within easy reach of his bed, was filled with chicken broth.

  Chapter 11

  “How’s Barney?” Caitlyn asked. Caitlyn had called Sarah every day since she learned about Barney’s surgery.

  “He’s doing fine,” Sarah responded with a happy lilt in her voice. “It’s getting a little hard to keep him down. He keeps getting up and carrying his ball to Charles, then me, trying to get someone to play with him. Charles has been sitting on the floor by Barney’s bed for the past hour playing ‘leave it / take it’ with tiny treats just to entertain him.”

  “Did Papa tell you he’s decided to come here for Christmas?” Caitlyn asked.

  “Yes, and I’m so glad you will all be together for the holidays.”

  “I’m glad too,” Caitlyn responded. “Aunt Maddie is dying to meet him.”

  “And maybe you’re a little excited about it, too?”

  “Oh, Aunt Sarah! You know I am. I was hoping he’d come, but, of course, that means I’m not coming there and won’t be able to see you and Uncle Charles and everyone else. But that’s actually why I’m calling. Would you two like to come here for Christmas? Aunt Maddie said if you were planning to drive, you could bring Barney too, but it’s an eight- or nine-hour trip so you might want to fly. What do you think?”

  “Sweetie, I’ll talk to Charles about it, but I think this should be a private family time for you, your dad, and your aunt. It’s a perfect chance for you three to bond as a family.”

  “You’re family, too, Aunt Sarah,” Caitlyn replied, but her tone suggested that she understood.

  They talked for a while about school and the upcoming quilt show and said goodbye just as Charles was walking into the kitchen.

  “Was that Caitlyn?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She told him about the invitation and what she had told Caitlyn. “I completely agree,” he responded. “Let’s leave them alone to enjoy Christmas together. Besides, we have our grandchildren to be with.”

  “You’re right, Charles. I want to be here with the kids. Caitlyn understands.”

  “Besides,” Charles added, “I was hoping you and I could have a little vacation after Christmas. We could get away from the cold weather and head down south somewhere.”

  “Such as?” Sarah asked with a glint in her eye. “Another cruise, perhaps?” she added playfully. “T
he one we took was pretty romantic, as I remember.”

  “Well, it sure was,” Charles responded rather matter-of-factly. “I was busy courting you, as I recall.”

  “Oh, you were, were you?”

  “You were a difficult one, too,” he added. “You were determined not to get serious with me. What happened, I wonder,” he teased.

  “I decided you weren’t a bad catch, so I let you win me over.”

  “Oh, so it was all your doing,” he responded, continuing the flirtatious banter.

  At that moment, the phone rang, and Sarah walked over to answer it, tossing a coy look over her shoulder.

  “Sophie! No, you aren’t interrupting anything,” she said, winking at her husband and walking toward her sewing room with her phone. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve been thinking about this quilt show and realizing this is going to be lots of work. I hope I didn’t start something that is going to be too much for us. We don’t have many people in the club, and …”

  “Sophie, we’ll be fine,” Sarah assured her friend. “Once the quilts are on display, we’ll sit back and enjoy watching the community marvel over them. It sounds like we’ll have quite a crowd. I was talking with Margory last week …”

  “Margory? Do I know her?”

  “Sure you do. She’s the head of the Resource Room at the Community Center. She said that lots of people have called about it. Since it’s at the Center, people assume she knows all about it, so she called me to get the details. I referred her to Ruth, but it sounds like there’ll be a crowd just from our community.”

  “What got me concerned,” Sophie responded, “was the announcement in the newspaper. Ruth has a spread about it and encouraged people to come, and at six dollars a person, it’s cheap entertainment. I think we’ll have a lot of people from town. What are we going to do with them all?”

  “Sophie, we aren’t going to do anything except take their money and point them toward the quilts. As a matter of fact, I was going to ask you if you’d like to be one of the folks at the front door. You’d be sitting down, and you can switch off with a few other people. You could have short shifts.”