by Carla J Gade
“What is all this?” he asked her, leaning down into the car. “Support group meeting tonight?”
“Yep. We’re combining our regular meeting with the memory quilt project,” she explained with a nod toward the floor. “I’m donating the blouse I was wearing the day I was diagnosed, and the ducky jammies I practically lived in until the incision healed.”
Jeremy chuckled. “You don’t strike me as the quilting type, Annabelle.”
“What I don’t know about quilting could fill the shark tank,” she teased. “But they needed someone to work on it with Carole, and I was the lucky one.”
She couldn’t bring herself to add the reason they needed someone new this year. Carole and Sharon Chaulk always handled the project together, but that third and final return of Sharon’s cancer had just been too much for her. At the too-young age of fifty-seven, Sharon had lost her battle. Annabelle’s stomach did a little flop as Jeremy slammed shut the door and waved.
“See you tomorrow.”
Annabelle took Channelside Drive over to Kennedy, and headed down to Martin Luther King Boulevard. While she waited at the stoplight, she noticed Kim Snyder as she turned in front of her and sped through the entrance to St. Joseph’s Hospital. The green arrow pointed the way, and Annabelle followed Kim and parked right next to her.
“Excellent!” she sang, tossing her door open. “I was wondering how I would manage to carry all of this inside.”
“Glad to help,” Kim returned, and she rounded the VW bug and tugged on the passenger door.
The two of them shared the load and hiked to the double glass doors and inside toward their regular meeting space. By the time they had the room set up and the boxed meals set out on the table adjacent to the door, there were ten women gathered in small groups.
“Annabelle has brought us ham and turkey sandwiches from Honeybaked,” Kim announced. “And there are bottles of water in the ice bucket next to the coffee. Help yourselves and let’s get started.”
Annabelle had just found a chair next to Carole Martinez and twisted open the top on a bottle of water when the door burst open.
“Are we too late? I told you, Daddy. We’re late.”
Standing in the doorway, a wild-haired little girl clutched the hand of her father, her eyes open wide and dancing with excitement.
“Don’t be silly,” Kim said as she approached them. “We’re just getting started. Come on in.”
Annabelle watched as Kim exchanged greetings and a few words with the pair and led them toward the food table. The little girl made an immediate beeline to the coffee, pouring a cup and handing it to the tall, lean man behind her.
“We have some new visitors with us tonight,” Kim proclaimed. “This is Gray McDonough, and his daughter, Sadie. Some of you might remember Gray’s wife, Jenna.”
Carole leaned over toward Annabelle. “Jenna McDonough’s family. I talked to the little girl last week. I didn’t think for one minute she’d be able to get her dad here.”
“Who’s Jenna McDonough?” she asked, but Carole missed the question as she stood up and headed toward them.
Little Sadie looked quite grown-up as she shook Carole’s hand and nodded. “Daddy,” she said, rolling her arm to call him over. “This is the lady I told you about.”
“Carole Martinez. So glad you could make it.”
Annabelle guessed Gray McDonough to be in his late thirties, maybe forty. His salt-and-pepper hair was trimmed short on the sides, longer on the top, and his striking blue eyes seemed tired and sad, making her wonder about the ovarian cancer connection. Was Jenna his sister or mother? Another glance at Sadie made Annabelle’s heart flutter. His wife.
Sadie took her father’s hand and followed Carole’s lead. They took the two folding chairs on the other side of her.
“That’s Kris,” Carole told them, pointing to the smiling woman next to them. “And on this side is Annabelle Curtis. She’s the one heading up our memory quilt project.”
“Hi,” Sadie grinned at her. “I think it’s neat about the blanket.”
“Thank you,” she returned. “Maybe you can help us cut some squares, huh?”
“Really?” she asked, and she turned toward her father. “Can I?”
“We’ll see,” he said softly, before nodding at Annabelle. “Hi.”
His eyes darted away before she had the chance to return the greeting.
A year or less, she thought, calculating the time since his loss. He still had that uncomfortable, tentative look in his eyes. Definitely no more than a year.
“Daddy, eat your sandwich,” Sadie prodded in a slightly-too-loud whisper. “It’s really good.”
His daughter had obviously taken on a bit of a caregiver role with him. It was adorable and sad at the same time. Annabelle’s eyes caught Sadie’s as she took a bite of her sandwich that was just a little too large for her small mouth. The girl’s bluish eyes glinted, and she giggled out loud as she struggled to chew it.
“Use your napkin,” Gray muttered in her direction.
She wiped mustard from the corner of her mouth, smearing it on her chin. When Gray took the napkin from his daughter’s hand and tended to the mess himself, Sadie looked directly at Annabelle, shrugged slightly, and grinned.
Dogs & People Don’t Have to Be Scary
Sweet, silly Sadie,
This one’s very important. Don’t be afraid to try new things and meet new people.
When I was your age, it seemed like I was afraid of everything, from roller coasters to dogs, and all the stuff in between. But when I met Aunt Bebe’s dog Trent, I realized that even the biggest, sloppiest dog can be a sweet puppy if you treat him right and talk nicely to him. This will be the case with people you meet, too.
Always talk nicely, and follow The Golden Rule about doing unto others as you want them to do unto you. You’ll make a lot of friends that way, and I think you’ll find some lovely surprises along the path, too.
Love you to the moon and back,
Mommy
Matthew 7:12 (CEB): Therefore, you should treat people in the same way that you want people to treat you; this is the Law and the Prophets.
