“He is good at fusing on the quilt block pieces to the fabric, but he’s not patient waiting for me to finish my part so he can start again.”
“What quilt pattern are you making?” Mark winked at Lil when he addressed the question to his uncle.
“A Rose of Sharon.” Walt stood tall and puffed his chest out like a proud child who’d aced a spelling bee.
Mark’s low whistle echoed around the store. “That’s a detailed but beautiful pattern.”
“It’s for my sister’s fortieth wedding anniversary.” Lil smiled at Mark.
“Because that type of quilt represents romantic love and used to be given to new brides.”
Lil laughed at Walt’s adding the small piece of quilting trivia he knew to the conversation.
“And because”—Walt scrunched his face Lil’s way—“she lost her sister’s favorite quilt.”
Mouth open ready to defend herself, Lil heard her cell phone ring, so she wagged a scolding finger toward Walt as she stepped away from the men. Squinting to see the small numbers, she realized it was Tiffany. She darted down a clearance aisle while the phone jangled in her hand.
Talk about bad timing. Lil hesitated then declined the call. She’d let it go to voice mail. As much as she wanted to leave, Walt still needed a full-time nurse and the hotel guests would be another diversion from her budding feelings.
The men’s laughter drifted through the store. From her vantage point she could see Walt. Dressed in dark denim bib overalls and blue plaid flannel shirt, with his face lit with laughter and life, no one would guess that he recently had surgery.
He is so handsome and fun. Lil leaned her arms on the bolts of cloth in front of her.
A loud beep broke her dreamy staring, alerting her she had a voice message. The cell phone noise drew Walt’s attention. He looked up. Instinctively, Lil looked down, not wanting him to know she’d been gazing his direction.
Her gasp cut through the store.
Lil couldn’t believe her eyes. She gasped again.
“Is everything okay back there?” Mark called.
“F–f–fine.” Lil pulled the bolt from the shelving. She found the end and separated the cloth to a single layer, then worked the soft yet grainy fabric between her thumbs and fingers.
The cloth wrapped around this bolt looked and felt like the old-time flour sack material. And not just any flour sack material either. The yellow background was more vibrant, but the white flower pattern, the same as the flour sack fabric, burned in her memory.
“Do you like that?”
Concentrating on the bolt of cloth, Lil’s upper body jerked in a jumping fashion. “Oh! I didn’t hear you walk over.”
“That’s apparent. We didn’t mean to startle you, Lil.”
“It’s okay.” Lil lifted her face to Walt’s rounded hazel eyes filled with concern.
“Are you sure, because you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Walt’s bony hand covered hers resting on the fabric.
“I kind of feel like I have.” Lil turned to Mark. “To answer your question, I don’t like it. I love it. It’s almost an answer to a prayer.”
“I special ordered that for a quilt repair job, but it wasn’t the right color—”
“Let me guess,” Lil said, shock shaking her voice. “The yellow’s too dark.”
Mark’s wide-eyed expression mirrored Walt’s.
“What’s going on here?” Walt tapped his walker against the floor for emphasis. “Now you’re both wearing eerie expressions.”
Chapter 6
Lil didn’t even glance his way. She hugged the bolt of fabric to her as if being reunited with a long-lost love. Anger and hurt tied together in a knot in Walt’s stomach. He didn’t like to be left out, especially where Lil was concerned.
“Was the quilt a Lily of the Field pattern made out of flour sack cloth?” Lil’s lips quivered as she waited for Mark’s answer.
Still wide-eyed, Mark nodded.
Walt reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Lily’s quilt.”
Sniffling, Lil wiped her eyes with the backs of her fingers. “That’s the quilt I lost that belonged to my sister, Lily.”
“Mark, do you know who has that quilt?” Walt kept his eyes fixed on Lil, who cradled the fabric bolt in her arm and lovingly scanned it as if it were a newborn child.
“I do, Uncle Walt.”
“Is it a regular customer? Someone we could talk to, maybe get it back?”
Lil’s green eyes filled with hope as she looked up at Mark. “I’d pay them, whatever price they want. Do you have their number?”
Mark held both his palms out to stop their barrage of questions. “If you two will follow me to the office, I can show you a picture of the quilt.”
Once inside the small office off of the classroom in the back of the store, Mark wiggled his computer mouse and clicked on his Internet browser.
Lil continued to hug the fabric bolt.
“I’ll take that if you’d like to have a seat.” Mark pried the material from Lil’s hands as Lil, trancelike, sat down. “Uncle Walt, would you like a chair?” Mark placed the bolt of fabric on top of a file cabinet beside his desk.
“No, I’ll stand right behind Lil.”
Moving the keyboard to the side, Mark typed a website address. Walt’s heart pounded as he read what Mark was typing.
When the site popped up, Lil gasped. “Caroline Baker. A quilter has it? Do you think she’ll sell it?”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty special to her, too.” Mark clicked on the site’s before-and-after link as his eyes met Walt’s over Lil’s head. His probably-not message was loud and clear.
“Lil”—Walt laid a hand on her shoulder—“that quilt has a good home with Caroline. She’s the little neighbor girl I was telling you about.”
“You two know her?” Lil turned her head from side to side.
“Very well.” Mark grimaced. “Lil, she credits that quilt with changing her life.”
“Oh.”
One short little word infused with more sadness than Walt’s heart could handle. They’d dashed Lil’s hopes.
Lil studied the monitor. “She did a really good job restoring it. It looks like new.” She sniffled as she lifted her fingers and trailed them down the monitor. “At least it has a good home.”
Just as Walt’s heart twisted with disappointment for Lil, she laughed.
“Actually, Lily will be happy to know that one block isn’t torn.”
Lil’s belly laughs echoed through Mark’s office.
Mark shot Walt a questioning look and Walt shrugged. Maybe it was just a way for her to cope, now that she knew the quilt was someone else’s and lost for good.
Lil wiped her eyes with her fingers as her laughter wound down. “I probably sound like a nut to you two. Lily is the sweetest person, but if you want to get her in a huff, say something about that quilt getting caught in the wringer.” She smiled the way everyone does at their sibling’s silly foibles.
How many times had Walt brought up something that he knew got under his brother’s skin, just to get him riled up? He never agreed with what his brother had done to Gert and Mark, but through the years, Walt missed him and wished he was still around to needle.
“Thank you for showing me the pictures, Mark.” Lil checked over her shoulder for Walt’s location before rolling the chair back.
Now standing, she looked at Walt. “Since you’re familiar with my project, do you think this fabric matches the colors I chose for the Rose of Sharon quilt? I could use it for the backing. At least that’d be something to remind Lily of her old quilt.”
“Let me get a closer look at it. You were holding on to it like it might run away from you.” Walt winked at Lil then studied the colors of the fabric. “I think the yellow’s a good match to your petals.”
“I do, too. Either way, I’m buying the entire bolt.” She handed it to Mark.
Mark frowned. “I don’t remember any Rose of Sharon quilts
having yellow in them.”
Walt rolled his eyes. “Lil’s does.”
She shrugged. “I prefer yellow roses.”
Wake up. Walt tried to force his conscious mind to take control of his subconscious. If I could just open my eyes, this would end.
Vines tangled around his boots, sucking him down. Legs stiff from being motionless so long, slowing him down. The extra weight carried on his shoulders, pressing him down.
His knees bent deeper than they should have, making his steps uneven, throwing off his running pace. The air, hot and stagnant, burned his lungs.
Still he ran, his mouth open, greedily gobbling as much oxygen as he could. His exposed tongue absorbed the jungle’s rank odors, gagging him, turning his stomach.
Every inch of Walt’s body screamed, Stop, take a rest, but the angelic singing of chopper blades cutting through the air lured him forward like a siren’s song.
Sweat ran down into his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision. Still he lifted one leaden foot, then the other. He had to get them to open land.
Wake up! His shout reverberated through his semiconscious state, but his subconscious mind couldn’t hear him over the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of the blades cutting through the thick air.
Lightning-like pain shocked his body with each step. He had to get to the open field. Branches snapped at his face. He stumbled over something—what, he didn’t know. He didn’t care.
Then his body rebelled for more oxygen. His stiff legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees. Closing his eyes, he saw her blue eyes, shining with happiness, welcoming him home.
Between each thunderous whoosh of the blades, he heard Nancy calling, “Come home.” Burden lightened, his adrenaline kicked in. Rising to his feet, he ran on sturdy legs. Eyes closed, he trusted her voice and sprinted with the grace of a gazelle through the last of the jungle snarls, Nancy’s blue eyes leading the way to the clearing.
A breeze kissed his sweat-drenched face. He opened his eyes. The chopper hovered a few feet away. Other soldiers ran or crawled toward it. He ran even faster, closing the distance between them and home.
He was within a foot of the chopper when rapid fire exploded around them. Dirt soared into the air and the black pellets rained down as bullets plowed up the ground. He felt the ammunition cut through the air as it buzzed past him. Soldiers inside the helicopter reached under his arms and pulled. With his torso half in the chopper’s belly, it lifted off, and so did the weight from his shoulders.
Gunfire pounded down on them. He tried to crawl farther into the gut of the chopper. A second later his body lurched forward. Forced into the helicopter from behind, his face skinned across the rough metal belly of the aircraft as a white-hot pain blasted through his hip.
“Walt.”
The lilt of a woman’s voice called his name. Nancy was calling him home. He tried with all his might to open his eyes so he could gaze into her blue ones.
“Walt.”
Her soft hand surrounded his. He tried harder to force his eyes open.
“Walt. Wake up. You’re dreaming.”
That’s not Nancy’s voice. His mind overcame the fog of the dream. Open your eyes. Walt’s eyes popped open. His heart was racing, his breathing heavy.
Where was he? It took a minute for his eyes to focus in the semi-dark room. Familiar outlines of his living room, shadowy from the lack of the afternoon sun, took shape. His breathing slowed. He was home.
Lil kneeled beside his chair. As she grasped his hand, fear filled her green eyes.
“Walt.”
It’d been Lil’s voice he heard, not Nancy’s.
Lil lifted her free hand and wiped it across his forehead, gathering the moisture beaded there before turning her hand and running its silky back down the side of his face.
“Are you okay?”
“Just a dream.” Hoarse, he cleared his throat, fighting his instincts to pull Lil into a hug, feel her warmth as a tangible example of reality.
Lil lifted her brows over concern-filled eyes. “I’d say a nightmare.”
Sucking his pursed lips under his mustache, he nodded.
“Want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. Could he talk about it? What would she think of him? They gave him a Purple Heart. Called him a hero, but he wasn’t. He’d failed. The only hope he had was God’s promise of forgiveness.
“Okay.” Lil squeezed his hand as she gave him a weak smile. “Could I get you anything? A glass of water?”
As Walt leaned forward to reposition himself in the chair to take some weight off of his incision, he felt the dampness in his flannel shirt. “Probably should rehydrate.” He pushed down on the armrests of the chair as he stood then grabbed his walker.
Lil beat him into the kitchen. Ice tinkled as it hit glass. In seconds, water hissed through the faucet.
“You don’t have to hurry.” Walt entered the kitchen. “I’m not dying of thirst.”
Lil flicked the cold water lever into the off position, her eyes still veiled in concern.
She sighed. “I guess I just felt I needed to do something for you.” She handed the glass to Walt as he stopped the walker beside the kitchen sink.
“Thank you.” He sipped the water.
Lil stared out the window while Walt stared at her. Tall and broad, loud and pushy, not his type at all, yet where had she been all his life? When he saw the compassion in her eyes, he wanted to share the nightmare with her. Something he’d never wanted to do before. Tell her about the worst moment of his life. His biggest failure. He knew she’d understand.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you, Lil.”
She turned when Walt placed his hand on her shoulder. Her smile was still weak, but some sparkle had returned to those beautiful green eyes. “I was frightened for you, not me.”
The soft fluff of Lil’s fleece top oozed between his fingers when he squeezed her shoulder. She’d have been a woman to come home from war to and build a life with. “My nightmares are always the same, and mild compared to some soldiers.”
“I guess that’s a good thing.”
“It is a good thing.” Walt sipped at his water. “Shall we make a pot of coffee and work on your quilt?”
Lil nodded.
“You get the coffee and I’ll fill the pot.”
Walt dropped his hand as Lil moved toward the refrigerator.
“You know, coffee doesn’t stay any fresher in here. It really should be stored in the cupboard above the coffee maker.”
“So you’ve told me.” Walt leaned against the front of the sink while he filled the pot with water. “Every day this week,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Walt grinned at Lil as she placed the filter into the pot and scooped the coffee into it.
Walt handed the brimming decanter to Lil. “You do the honors.”
She dumped the water into the reservoir. “Should I clear a spot in the cupboard to store the coffee?”
“Not today.”
Lil pursed her lips and frowned, but she walked the can of ground coffee back to the refrigerator.
“This would be easier without the walker.” Walt had his fingers looped through the handles of empty mugs while trying to grip the walker.
“Some guests checked in while you were napping.” Lil removed the cups from Walt’s grasp, her fingertips grazing his skin and leaving a pleasant tingle.
“I put them in the first two rooms. I wrote the information on a white tablet since I don’t know how to run your reservation software.”
Lil took a seat behind her sewing machine and flipped on the toggle switch. A light in the machine popped on, creating a soft glow around the needle.
“I’ll enter it into the system later. At least that’s something I can do to help.” Walt sighed. “It’s not like these are regular overnight stays anyway.”
“They were very grateful.” Keeping her head bent, Lil lifted her eyes and her gaze locked onto his.
The emotion conveyed in her green eyes, pride and admiration, warmed Walt’s heart.
Self-conscious at how to handle Lil’s appreciation, Walt shrugged. “It’s the least—”
“You could do. I know. I meant it as a compliment.” Lil turned her attention back to a quilt block and adjusted it in the machine. “Walt, you’re a very kind man.”
A kind man. He was just doing the right thing. Yet that’s what he thought when he went to war. When he came home, kind wasn’t one of the descriptive words Nancy hurled at him. Just the opposite. She’d called him a savage.
Unaccustomed to being held in high esteem, he didn’t know how to respond to Lil’s statement, so he decided to change the subject.
“Did you get the appliquéing done on any of the blocks so I can fuse the petal pieces?” Walt lifted the walker and started toward the ironing board.
“Put the walker down and use it.” Lil didn’t even look up from the machine.
“What are you, a teacher with eyes in the back of her head?” Walt placed the walker on the floor.
“I have ears.” Lil turned, tucking snowy curls behind her ears, proving to Walt what she said was true. “I didn’t hear the scuffing of the walker, and I know my patient isn’t patient.”
Lil snickered at her play on words.
“That’s it. No more Jerry Lewis movies for you.” Walt’s teasing brought out Lil’s broad smile and lifted his spirits, chasing away his self-consciousness.
“You’d better get that iron heated up because you’re holding up this assembly line. I’m almost done with the last block.”
She adjusted the fabric under the presser foot. The steady purr of the machine’s motor scooted the needle back and forth on the fabric with a rhythmic beat.
Walt gathered his supplies, tested the iron, and started fusing the yellow petals onto the fabric. “That black thread really makes the pattern stand out.”
“It does make it pop.”
“I’m sorry that Mark doesn’t think Caroline will part with the Lily of the Field quilt.”
The purr of the machine stopped. Lil sighed.
“Well, they have put time and money into it and probably developed a huge emotional attachment to it. Her website said her husband, Rodney, inherited the quilt, so it’s not like they’re the ones who found it either. There’s no obligation to give it back.”
Dakota Love Page 37
