Left Holding the Bag

by Carol Dean Jones

  “The hardest part was saying goodbye. Those poor kids often got returned to their parents where they’d been abused and neglected in the past. I rarely got to know how they turned out,” she added.

  “Is your husband with you?” Sophie asked as delicately as she could. She hadn’t seen an older man during the move.

  “No, Harold died a few years back,” she responded sadly. The three women sat quietly, each lost in her own thoughts. Life can turn on a dime, Sarah thought, her mind turning to her own husband and his health problems.

  Suddenly Sophie announced, “How did this party become so maudlin?” She reached for another cinnamon bun and added, “Tell us about all that fabric your mother left.”

  Bernice cheered up as she talked about her mother’s stash of fabric. “She had lots of different kinds of fabric, but I was only interested in the cottons. I took the rest over to the senior center. But there were also these trunks in the barn full of old fabric that I was going to just toss out, when the man who was appraising the furniture got all excited about what he called, the ‘boxes of vintage yard goods.’”

  “Vintage yard goods?” Sophie repeated. “What does that mean?”

  “I didn’t know, but I took an armload of it to this quilt shop in her hometown to see what I could find out. There were scraps of silk and velvet that I recognized from mother’s crazy quilts, but what the shop keeper got excited about was what she called the feedsacks.”

  “Feedsacks?” Sophie repeated. “You mean those bags the chicken feed came in when I was a girl?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And that was exciting?” Sophie responded curiously. “Did women use them for sewing?”

  “They sure did. They made clothes and quilts with them back in the early 1900s,” Beatrice responded. “It was hard for women to get their hands on new fabric in those days.”

  “I never heard of any of this,” Sarah responded. “Do people still use it?”

  “The woman at the shop told me that companies stopped printing the bags when reasonably priced printed cotton became abundant, but it was still being used in the early 1950s. When mother died, she had three steamer trunks packed solid with feedsacks stored in the old barn.”

  “And you kept them?”

  “I did. I had a basement, so it wasn’t a problem, but when I moved here, I didn’t know what to do with them.”

  “You brought them?” Sarah asked excitedly.

  “I sure did, and I have no idea what to do with them now. I can’t store all those trunks.”

  “I’d love to see the feedsacks someday, once you get settled,” Sarah said. “It sounds interesting.”

  The women continued to chat about quilting and devoured most of the cinnamon buns. Sophie wanted to ask about Bernice’s straggly visitor the previous day but decided that would be intrusive. Besides, she’d already admitted to spying on her once and was reluctant to admit to it a second time. She did wonder, though, about the car and decided she could ask that one question innocuously.

  “I noticed that your car has been gone for a couple of days. Do you need a ride to the store?”

  Bernice seemed to freeze for a moment but responded, “No, but thank you. A friend borrowed it, but he’ll probably be bringing it back today. In fact, I expected him last night, but…” She quickly changed the subject, looking away as she stood. “I’ve got to get back to my boxes, but thank you so much for this pleasant break.”

  Something is wrong, Sarah told herself. She noticed that the woman was no longer making eye contact with either of them. Something is definitely wrong.

  Before reaching the front door, Bernice turned to them and said, “Why don’t you two come by in the morning, and I’ll show you the feedsacks. I should have enough boxes out of the way by then.”

  “I’m going to be away for a couple of days,” Sophie responded, “but Sarah, you go ahead and go. I can see them later on.”

  Sarah looked at Sophie inquisitively but could tell Sophie didn’t want to explain at that moment. Turning to Bernice, Sarah replied, “I’d love to come if you’re sure it’s not an imposition. I know you have lots to do.”

  “I get up early, and I’ll be looking forward to a break,” Bernice responded. “Come around ten, and we’ll have coffee.”

  As soon as Sophie closed the front door, Sarah bombarded her with questions. “Away? You’ll be away? And just where are you going, and why don’t I know about it?”

  “We’ve planned a little getaway,” Sophie responded mysteriously, “and I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it.”

  “You may not be ready to talk about it, my friend, but it just so happens I’m ready to hear about it. Talk!”

  “Okay, so Norman and I are driving down to Kentucky this weekend. He wants to look at a few cabins his realtor has lined up for him to see in the Land between the Lakes area. He’s thinking about getting a cabin that his whole family can use.”

  “The Land between the Lakes? I’ve heard of that,” Sarah responded. “It’s between Lake Barkley and the Kentucky Lake, Isn’t it? Sort of a recreational area?”

  “The brochure he brought me called it a ‘170,000-acre playground,’ but the surrounding towns have restaurants, hotels, and cabins and that’s where he’s been looking. His girls and their families love hiking and boating. It sounds like a perfect spot where they can have family get-togethers. He doesn’t get to see them very often.”

  “How far away is it from here?” Sarah asked, still in shock that her friend was planning to go away with Norman so early in their relationship.

  “It’s a little over four hours from here and, for your information,” she added, puffing up indignantly, “he has arranged separate rooms for the two of us. I assume that’s what’s behind that look on your face.”

  “That look on my face is simply surprise. Tell me about his family. I haven’t heard much about them.” I haven’t heard much about him for that matter, Sarah thought but didn’t say.

  “His wife died about ten years ago, and he has two daughters, both married with grown children. They live in Tennessee south of the lakes, and he figures that area would be a perfect meeting place. They will all be there this weekend.”

  “Hmm,” Sarah responded. “This is an interesting turn of events…”

  “Now Sarah, don’t make more of this than it is.”

  “You’re meeting the family…”

  “I know, but I’m trying to ignore that part.”

  “And you’re leaving tomorrow?”

  “This afternoon, actually,” Sophie responded. “Will you help me pack?”

  Chapter 3

  Charles had just left for an appointment with his cardiologist and, being eager to get a look at her new neighbor’s vintage fabric, Sarah headed for Bernice’s house. A few minutes before ten, she knocked on the screen door but didn’t get an answer right away. A minute or so later, she heard Bernice calling to her from the back of the house. “It’s open, Sarah. Come on in.”

  Sarah stepped into the house that had once been her own, but it still didn’t look familiar. The living room was sparsely furnished, but clean and tidy. The boxes from her previous visit were gone. She hesitated, not sure what to do next, but at that moment Bernice again called to her. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I had a phone call and got behind. I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”

  Sarah started to sit down but heard Bernice add, “There’s coffee brewing and mugs in the cabinet. Help yourself.”

  Sarah crossed the living room and stepped into the kitchen. Bernice had placed a small table and two chairs in the same spot where Sarah’s table had been. For a moment Sarah hesitated, picturing herself and Charles sitting by the window, sipping coffee and getting to know one another. She smiled remembering the warmth and excitement they had shared in those early days. She remembered feeling like a young girl instead of a seventy-year old widow rediscovering love.

  Shaking herself out of her reverie, Sarah automatically reached for a mug in the
cabinet above the dishwasher and was not surprised to find that was exactly where Bernice kept them as well. She filled the mug with coffee and had just opened the refrigerator to get milk when Bernice came into the room.

  “I was just getting some milk,” Sarah explained, embarrassed by having been caught opening a stranger’s refrigerator. “It just felt so natural…”

  Bernice laughed. “It must feel strange to you being in the house you used to live in, but I’m glad that you feel comfortable enough to help yourself. There’s half and half on the door if you prefer, or I have non-diary creamer as well.”

  “This is fine,” Sarah responded adding a few dollops of milk to her cup.

  Bernice reached into the cupboard for a box of cookies and emptied a few onto a plate which she sat on the table. “Sorry, but this is all I have to offer you. I need to do some shopping, but I want to get more of these boxes unpacked first.”

  “I’m going to the store this afternoon. Is there anything I can pick up for you?” Sarah asked as she sat down at the table and glanced across the street at Sophie’s house.

  “No, but thank you. Darius took my list and said he’d pick up what I need.”

  “Darius?” Sarah responded, hoping Bernice would explain who the young man was.

  Bernice sank into a chair looking troubled. “Darius was my foster child. He left me when he was eighteen. That’s when the agency released him from foster care. He comes back now and then when he needs help, and I just can’t refuse him. He doesn’t have anyone else. Yesterday he said he needed to borrow my car for a few hours and I gave him the keys.” Bernice sighed and took a sip of her coffee.

  “And he hasn’t returned?”

  “No, but I’m sure he’ll be along soon.”

  “Has he called?”

  Bernice shook her head. “I tried to call him, but he didn’t answer. He forgets to turn his phone on…”

  Sarah was curious, but she didn’t want to ask any more questions. Putting the issue of the car aside, the two women spent the next couple of hours in the bedroom that Sarah had used as her sewing room when she lived there. They started with several boxes of vintage fabrics that Bernice hadn’t been able to part with and ended with one of the trunks of feedsacks. Sarah was fascinated by the patterns that reminded her of things from her childhood – quilts, clothing, even her grandmother’s pieced tablecloths.

  “I had no idea this was what my mother and grandmother were using,” Sarah marveled, “but it’s all very familiar to me. What are you planning to do with all this?”

  “I have no idea,” Bernice replied. “I sure don’t have room for it here. Do you suppose I might be able to sell the feedsacks? I really don’t know whether anyone would be interested.”

  “I know they would, Bernice. We should take a few to Running Stitches and talk to Ruth. If anyone knows what you could do with it, it would be Ruth.”

  “Running Stitches?”

  “Oh, sorry. Running Stitches is our local quilt shop, and Ruth is the owner. I buy most of my fabric there. Oh,” she added enthusiastically, “and we have a quilting group that meets there on Tuesday nights. Sophie and I go and would love to have you join us next week. You could show the group your feedsacks and perhaps get some ideas about what to do with them.”

  By the time Sarah was leaving, Bernice had agreed, at least tentatively, to join them the following Tuesday and bring some of the feedsacks to show the quilters.

  “Thank you, Sarah,” Bernice said at the door. “I was worried about moving to a retirement community and not knowing anyone. You and Sophie have made me feel very welcomed.”

  “You’ve met Sophie, so you’ll never be lonely I can assure you. When I moved here, Sophie swept me into her circle and had me running some place every day and meeting more people than I’d known in my lifetime!”

  Bernice laughed. “I’d like that. Thanks again, Sarah,” she repeated as Sarah was walking away.

  “Call me if you need anything,” Sarah said as she was leaving. She was pleased that Bernice appeared more relaxed and seemed to have enjoyed the time they spent going through the fabric and feedsacks.

  * * *

  “Sophie called three times while you were out,” Charles announced as she walked in the door.

  “Why didn’t she call my cell phone?” Sarah said with a frown in her voice.

  “This cell phone?” he husband asked, holding up her phone which she had left on the kitchen counter.

  “Oh, I forgot to put it in my purse again, didn’t I?”

  “I answered all of her calls on your behalf.”

  “Is she okay?” Sarah asked.

  “She’s fine. She just wants to tell you about some quilt museum they passed on the way down there.”

  “Tell me what Doctor Grossman had to say,” Sarah said as casually as she could, trying not to let the anxiety she’d been feeling about her husband's health show in her voice. He’d had two serious strokes since he retired from the police department and his blood pressure had been running very high the past month despite several medication changes.

  “Oh, you know how doctors are, sweetie. Lose weight, reduce stress, get exercise…I don’t know what else I can do. I’m eating rabbit food and working out just about every day.”

  “Is that all he said?” She detected some hesitation in his voice, and she felt he wasn’t telling the whole story. I should have gone with him, she told herself. “Charles, you might as well tell me and get it over with. You know how annoying I can be…”

  Charles laughed and put his arm around his wife. “You can be a bit of a nag, my dear wife, but I know you’re just looking out for me.”

  “And what else did he say?” she asked again, not letting him off the hook.

  “He’s going to do a few tests next week.”

  “What kind of tests?”

  “Something about the carotid artery…”

  “You had that last week,” she responded, beginning to feel annoyed with herself for not going with him.

  “This is different,” he offered, realizing he’d better be more forthcoming with the details before she lost patience with him. “It’s a…wait, I wrote it down here.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the doctor’s appointment card. He turned it over and read, “It’s a carotid angiography. He said he'd be inserting a catheter into an artery in the groin, insert dye, and do x-rays to see what’s going on.”

  “When is your appointment?”

  “They will be calling me once they get the test set up at the hospital.”

  “The hospital?” Sarah responded apprehensively but then realized that this sort of test would be done in the hospital. “Well, let me know when it is.”

  Sarah tried not to worry about Charles’ health, but occasionally his symptoms would flare up, and she’d feel panicky. He was recovering from a massive stroke when she met him, but he worked hard and made a miraculous recovery. Since then he’d suffered one other serious stroke and a few minor ones, none of which left him with any long term effects.

  Despite kidding her about the food she served him, Charles followed the doctor’s instructions regarding exercise and diet, but it was against his nature to avoid stress. He continued to stay in touch with his old department and occasionally took on assignments from his lieutenant. He’d even been toying lately with getting licensed as a private investigator, but Sarah was dead set against it and, so far, he’d respected her wishes.

  “Can we stop talking about this?” Charles said abruptly. “Tell me about your visit with Bernice.”

  “Well, I enjoyed going through the vintage fabrics…” she replied hesitantly.

  “But?” he responded, picking up on her ambivalence.

  “Well, there’s the car issue…”

  “She didn’t get her car back yet?”

  “Not yet,” Sarah responded, and went on to tell Charles about Darius and his relationship to Bernice. “Bernice said he just borrowed it for a couple of days, but she
hasn’t heard from him since he left with the car and her grocery list.”

  “Is she worried?”

  “If she is, she’s keeping it to herself. But otherwise, she’s all moved in, and the kitchen almost made me homesick. She has it arranged just like we did. Remember sitting at the table by the window? We were so much in love…” she said smiling at him.

  “I still am,” Charles said emphatically, happy to see that she was getting off the subject of his health, “and I hope you are too. You are, aren’t you?” he asked, pretending to be apprehension about her answer.

  “Of course I am. But it’s more of a settled down love now. In those days I was giddy, and I think you were too!”

  “I was,” he admitted. “But don’t ever tell my cop friends that,” he added.

  Chapter 4

  “Hi, Sophie. How’s the trip going?”

  “So far, it’s fantastic. I’m having such a good time, and the cabin he picked out is perfect. We drove around with the realtor this morning and looked at three or four nice ones, but when we pulled up in front of this one, I could tell it was going to be it. It’s an entirely furnished A-frame with a loft, four bedrooms, and floor to ceiling windows facing the lake. There’s a deck large enough to entertain the entire family at one time, and it has its own pier. It’s a wooded lot, and it feels isolated, although there are other cabins not far away. It’s so peaceful, Sarah. I really love it here.”

  “You’re in the cabin now?”

  “Yes, he was able to rent it for the weekend, but he’s planning to buy it. He signed the contract yesterday, and he’s already talked to his bank.”

  “And the family?”

  “One daughter has arrived with her husband and their son. The son’s in his thirties and not married. They seem nice. The older daughter will be here later today, but she’s divorced, and neither of her kids could make this trip, but she’s bringing her grandson.

  “Norman’s a great grandfather?” Sarah exclaimed.

  “He sure is, and it sounds like the whole family is excited about having the cabin. They live in Tennesee, and it’s only about a two-hour drive for them. They seem like nice folk’s, but that’s not why I called.”