"I don't know. Maybe not. He left Uganda before Kissa was born."
"You didn't ask your sister?” Harriet asked.
Neelie looked at her and started crying again.
"She was in pain. It was difficult for her. She asked me to take the baby to Aiden, and I promised I would. That's all I know.” She sagged back in her chair and wept quietly into her napkin.
Harriet looked at her aunt. Beth gave a slight shrug.
"Look,” Harriet said. “If Aiden calls back...” After I get a new phone, thank you very much. “...you'll be the first to know. How will I get in touch with you?"
"I'm staying at the Hampton Inn on Highway One-oh-one."
Neelie took Kissa from Aunt Beth and, without another word, left the coffee shop.
The two women sat in silence for a few minutes.
"I pity that child if she ends up with that woman for a mother,” Aunt Beth said.
"I didn't get that she wants any continued involvement. She talks about the baby like she's a package."
"If Aiden doesn't want her, she may have no choice."
"I think we both know Aiden better than that. If that's his baby, and it very well could be, he'll do the right thing."
"I wouldn't jump to any conclusions about the baby's parentage until we talk to him,” Beth said. “Yes, she has blue eyes, but I took a good look at her while I was holding her. She doesn't really look like Aiden or any of the Jalberts. And her eyes have more blue color than his—they look lighter because of her dark skin. They are definitely blue, but I didn't see a speck of that icy-white color Aiden has."
"Why would the woman lie about something like that? And why would she come all the way from Africa if he isn't the baby's father? Aiden's been back for eight or nine months—the baby might not have even been born when he left."
"Don't you think he'd notice if his girlfriend was nine months pregnant?"
"You'd think, but he told me he traveled among three locations. Maybe he didn't see her when she was big."
"They were close enough to have a baby, but he didn't say goodbye before he left? And then he just moved on with you without a backward glance. Come on—does that sound like Aiden to you?"
"You're right. Ignoring my own insecurities, you're right. It doesn't sound like him."
Beth picked up her mocha and took a long drink.
"There's one way to find out,” she said. “Call him."
Harriet held up her broken phone and laughed.
"I wish I could."
Beth started digging in her purse for her own phone. Harriet reached over and stilled her aunt's hand.
"This can wait,” she said. “Aiden is dealing with a horrific situation with the dogs in Ephrata. He doesn't need this on top of everything else. Especially since he can't do anything about the situation until he gets back. Assuming there is something he needs to do besides telling Neelie Obote to take a flying leap."
"Let's hope that's the case."
Harriet leaned back in her chair and shut her eyes.
"At least we haven't talked about our dog blocks for...” She opened one eye and looked at a clock built into the side of a striped coffee mug on the art wall. “...one hour and twelve minutes."
Aunt Beth sipped her mocha again. “I know Lauren thinks the Small Stitches coincidentally came up with the same dog face design we did, but I'm not so sure. They might have thought of the idea of using a dog face, but how many different breeds are there? What are the odds they would accidentally choose those with the same colors we did?"
"Yeah, and Mavis told me they are some of the worst offenders when it comes to using a commercial pattern without giving the designer credit."
"She's right. I can't remember them ever doing an original design, now that I think about it."
"Jenny said she'd heard they were doing a Maggie Walker pattern—one of her golfing friends is a Small Stitch. Why would they change that once they were started?"
"They might be doing more than one, just like we are,” Beth suggested. “But I agree, something is a little off about all this."
"I think we need to be careful who's around when we unveil our next batch of blocks. In fact, maybe we should meet at the studio next time."
"What if we suggest that if anyone has their blocks done, they bring them to DeAnn's shower, and we can preview them afterwards?"
"I'll call people when we get home."
"No, I'll call. You need to get busy on that quilt for Phyllis. Besides, you need to spend your spare time getting a new cell phone."
"I'd better get started, then."
Harriet stood and drained the remaining chocolate from her cup, picked up her aunt's mug and took both to the dirty dish station. Aunt Beth gathered their purses and her sweater and met her at the door.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 4
If Harriet had lived anywhere else, she probably wouldn't have bothered with a land line at home. However, the spotty cell phone reception in Foggy Point, combined with the existing phone number that had long been associated with Quilt As Desired, the long-arm quilting business, meant she'd kept the business phone and its antiquated answering machine. When she got home and listened to her messages, she was glad she hadn't gotten rid of either—Aiden had called.
"I've been trying to reach you since we got cut off,” his mechanically distorted voice said from the speaker. “What happened? One minute I was talking to you, and the next I was connected to some strange woman who sounded pretty desperate to talk to whoever it was she thought she was talking to. Weird, huh?
"Well, I worked at the site all day, and now I'm headed to the clinic. We don't have good phone reception here—I had to drive out to the top of one of the bluffs to make this call. You can leave a message, and I'll get it and answer when I can."
He asked about his dog Randy, who was at home under Carla's care. Before he'd left, Harriet had promised she'd visit the strange little dog he'd brought home from Africa and had also promised she'd hug her and tell her daddy loved her at least every other day. He said goodbye and promised to call again soon.
Harriet played the message three more times, but Aiden still didn't magically explain about the baby or the woman.
The phone rang, and she grabbed it up, so quickly it slipped from her grasp, and she had to catch it in midair to avoid dropping it.
"Aiden?"
"Sorry,” Mavis replied. “It's just me."
"I'm being silly. I was listening to a message on the machine from Aiden. He told me he was going back to work. What's up?"
Mavis explained she had taken one of Joseph's quilts, cut it into quarters and was in the process of sewing the new borders onto the first piece. She wanted Harriet to quilt this first one before she put borders on the other three pieces in case she needed to make any adjustments to the scheme. They agreed she would bring it over in the morning, and Harriet would put it on her machine as soon as she could work it in.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 5
Mavis arrived at the studio promptly at eight the next morning, her quilt piece in a flowered cotton tote slung over her shoulder, a white paper bag with the Annie's Coffee Shop logo in her hand.
"Is that what I think it is?” Harriet asked as she stood aside so Mavis could enter.
"If you're thinking cinnamon twists, then yes, it is,” Mavis said with a smile.
"You're an angel."
"No, I'm just an old gal who knows how to get her project moved to the top of the list, do you want to see what I've done while the tea water's heating?"
Harriet took the flowered bag, pulled out the quilt piece and laid it on her large cutting table. She ran her hand along the seam between the cut edge of the quilt and the new border Mavis had attached.
"This looks good,” she said. “I think we should put some basting stitches between the two pieces to keep them butted against each other so they don't separate when my machine goes over them. If you have
the time, you could do that while I work on Phyllis's quilt."
Harriet had put the kettle on the stove when she'd seen Mavis's car in the driveway. It whistled, and she led Mavis through the connecting door from the studio to the kitchen.
"Have you started your block for the dog quilt yet?” Mavis asked.
"No, I haven't had time. I worked on Phyllis's quilt last night."
"If you ask me, I think we gave up on the dog heads too soon."
"Some of them did look okay. I think part of the problem was we had too many styles. Jenny's appliqué block looked good."
"I know my paper-pieced version wasn't the best. I haven't done much paper piecing, so I probably shouldn't have tried it for this."
"I'll try my idea after I finish Phyllis's quilt and your border."
"Fortunately, we have a little time to fiddle with it yet. On a whole different subject, your aunt told me about the woman you met at the quilt store yesterday."
"Did she tell you about the coffee shop, too?"
"Yes, she did.” Mavis pulled the cinnamon pastries out of the bag and set them on a plate while Harriet poured hot water over tea bags. “What do you make of it?” she asked when she was settled on her stool at the bar.
"I don't know what to think. I have a hard time believing Aiden would get a woman in Africa pregnant and then just turn his back on her and go on with his life back home.” Harriet broke off a piece of cinnamon twist and popped it into her mouth.
"I think it's strange the baby's aunt would come all the way to Foggy Point, Washington, USA, without so much as a call to see if Aiden actually lived here.” Mavis took a bite of her pastry. “Mumm, these are so good."
"Maybe she did call Aiden,” Harriet suggested. “Although that's even harder to believe. If he knew he had a baby, and it was coming to live with him, he wouldn't be off in Ephrata."
"Something's going on here,” Mavis said. “And I don't think it has anything to do with Aiden being a father. I'll tell you something else. I went to the store to pick up some cat food after dinner last night, and there was a young black woman with a baby in line, two people in front of me. She was arguing with the clerk about a coupon she was trying to use, and she definitely did not have a foreign accent, African or otherwise."
"That could just be a coincidence."
"Oh, honey. You know as well as I do Foggy Point doesn't get that many strangers on a week night, and two young black women with babies of a similar age on the same day? It has to be the same person."
"I don't know what to say.” Harriet took a sip of her tea. “You can bet we haven't seen the last of her."
They finished their breakfast in silence, each lost in her own thoughts for a few minutes.
"I better get on my way,” Mavis said finally. “It's my day to make lunches for Meals-on-Wheels at the Methodist church."
"I've got a few more hours of stitching on Phyllis's quilt, and then I'll put your piece on the machine. I promised Aiden I'd look in on Randy, so I think I'll do that in between."
"Maybe I'll see you over there. I told Carla I'd come over when I finish at the church to help her get set up for tomorrow."
"Okay, maybe I'll see you later, then."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 6
The time went quickly, as it usually did when Harriet was guiding the big sewing machine head over a well-made quilt. Phyllis wasn't one of her more demanding customers; she usually had an idea for an image—flowers, swirls, gridlines—but she left the details up to Harriet.
She got up from her stool and stood with her feet together and her shoulders in the Mountain Pose, or at least she thought she was in the correct position. Robin, who taught yoga when she wasn't being a lawyer, was always encouraging the Loose Threads to adopt it as an antidote to long hours hunched over their sewing machines. Harriet met her halfway—she did the yoga stretches she could do from a standing position. Somehow, rolling around on the floor when she got up from her quilting machine held no appeal.
Robin continued to lobby for the additional moves, but for now, Harriet stood in Mountain Pose then went into Chest Expansion and, finally, the sideways-leaning motions of the Simple Triangle. With one last cleansing breath, she picked up her purse and went out the door.
It had rained while she'd worked on Phyllis's quilt. A large drop of water fell off a tree branch and slid down the back of her neck. She shivered and batted at it. Summer was definitely over. Soon, the hoodie she was wearing wouldn't be enough to ward off the cold, and she'd have to deal with getting a jacket that was more than just rain protection.
Shopping could wait for another day. Today, she needed to get on with checking up on Carla and her preparations.
A red-and-white taxi was pulling out of the long driveway to Aiden's house, and she had to wait as it made the turn onto the street. It was empty except for the driver, and Harriet assumed he or she had taken a wrong turn on his way to pick up a passenger.
It soon became clear, however, the taxi was not there by mistake. As she eased her car up the drive and into the parking area, she saw that the cab had left two passengers, one of whom now appeared to be in a rather heated discussion—if her gestures were any indication—with Carla.
"Neelie,” she called as she got out of her car, interrupting the two women. “What are you doing here?"
"You know what I'm here for."
"I told you Aiden is not in town."
"That's what I've been trying to tell her,” Carla said, “but she won't listen."
She was wearing a rose-pink long-sleeved T-shirt with stonewashed denim capri pants. Her long dark hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders and no longer had the stringy, greasy look it had when Harriet first met her. The young woman had come a long way in the last seven months.
"You're the one who won't listen.” Neelie was wearing skinny black pants and a lime-green sweater that had a designer look to them. Probably not Paris, Harriet guessed, but definitely not Walmart. “I get that he's out of town,” she shouted. “What you don't seem to grasp is I've got this baby.” She jounced the child on her hip for emphasis. “And she needs her father."
"I'm not sure what you expect us to do until Aiden gets back and can sort this out,” Harriet said in what she hoped was a reasonable tone.
"I'll tell you what I expect you to do,” Neelie said. “I expect you to give us a place to stay. It cost me dearly to come from Africa with a baby. Of course, I did this gladly because of my precious sister, but I can't give what I don't have. I don't have money to keep Kissa in a hotel until Aiden returns."
The rain that had eased up while Harriet made her drive began to come down again in earnest.
"Let's go inside,” she said and ran for the door.
Carla's eyes widened, and she looked like she was going to protest, but she kept whatever she'd been going to say to herself. She brushed past Harriet and went to the back door, holding it open for the others.
"I've got to go check on Wendy,” she said, wiping the rain from her face. “She's napping."
Harriet ushered Neelie and Kissa into the kitchen; she didn't want to take her any farther into Aiden's house than she had to.
"Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. “Tea or coffee?"
"I'm fine,” Neelie said. She sat down and rubbed her hand across her forehead.
"Are you okay?” Harriet asked. “I mean, besides the baby drama."
"I just need to talk to Aiden Jalbert.” Neelie's chin dropped to her chest. Her hand shook as she grabbed the edge of the table for balance.
"Are you diabetic or something?” Harriet asked as she opened the refrigerator door and pulled a gallon jug of milk out so she could look behind it.
The summer before her late husband Steve died, his nephew Brad had stayed with them in Oakland for a few weeks while he attended a math seminar in Berkeley. Brad was a fragile diabetic, and after half a dozen episodes, Harriet had learned to recognize the signs of low blood suga
r. She set the milk on the counter and picked up a carton of orange juice, opened the cupboard she knew held drinking glasses, selected a tumbler and filled it with the juice.
"Drink this,” she said, and to her relief, Neelie drained the glass. Harriet refilled it. “How long has it been since the baby's had anything to eat?"
"A couple of hours, I think."
"Does she drink milk or formula?” Carla asked as she came back into the kitchen, a monitor receiver in her hand.
"Milk,” Neelie said.
"Cow's milk?” Carla pressed.
"Of course. I bought two percent at the grocery store. It was all they had."
"Is that what your sister fed her?” Carla asked, the shock plain in her voice.
"Where we come from she was lucky to get that,” Neelie said defensively.
"Let me fix her a bottle."
Carla held out her hand. Neelie stared at it.
"Don't you have an empty bottle in that bag?” Carla pointed at the tote slung over the other woman's shoulder.
Neelie set the baby on the floor and rooted around in the bag, finally producing a dirty bottle. Carla took it in two fingers and dropped it into the sink. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a clean bottle, nipple and ring, filled the bottle with milk then held it under hot tapwater and finally handed it to Neelie, who set it on the table and took another drink of her juice.
Kissa began to cry and reach for the bottle. Carla picked the child up and tilted her back in her left arm in one smooth move, plugging the bottle into her mouth at the same time. The baby drained it and promptly fell asleep.
Harriet was wondering who had stolen her shy friend Carla and replaced her with this mother lioness. Neelie sipped on the remains of her orange juice and didn't say anything when Carla took the sleeping baby out of the room. She returned a moment later without her.
"Wendy's portable crib is in the front parlor,” she explained. “It's quiet, and that baby looks like she needs a little of that."
Neelie glared at her, but before either woman could say anything, the back doorbell buzzed. Harriet opened it and let Mavis in.
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