Scandal

by Patsy Brookshire

  "I'm in the show. Officially."

  "What show?"

  "Don't be stupid. The Willamina Quilt Show, of course. With Tumbling Blocks. The one that won a blue at the State Fair."

  "Well, for Pete's sake, Len. That's cool. You'll probably be competing with me, but I don't expect to be any real competition, for now. Besides, mine is a combo quilt, designed and partially executed by Aunt Sophie, but re-designed and finished by me. So how do you like them apples?"

  "I don't think I'm going to worry about you as a competitor, not a quilting competitor at least."

  "Len, you say the nicest things. Thank you for reminding me of why we're not together anymore." What a jerk. And me such a fool for being attracted to his sexy ways and cute looks. No wonder he wasn't married any more, if he was as push me-pull you with her as with me. I found interesting that bit he said about us being in competition. Therein was the problem.

  I didn't want to compete with my mate, I wanted to walk side by side with him, with us helping each other as needed, not always looking to see who was ahead. His cute butt had made me forget why we'd ended the first time. But I had encouraged him, had to admit it. Now, how to bring us to a place of friends, not at odds or angry with each other. I didn't want anger, but could welcome an old friend.

  He wasn't done. "I have something else in the show too. A surprise. Those people like me, so I'm giving them more than Tumbling Blocks."

  Right now was not the time for The Discussion of Lover to Friend.

  "Len, let me tell you about yesterday. Lena confessed to killing Magda's husband, and burying him in the backyard of their studio."

  "I must say, I'm not surprised that her sharp tongue killed someone. Tell me."

  I did. That took me until the sun had moved from behind the hills to shining highlights on the ripples in the shallows. I signed off with him, saying I needed to do some housekeeping before I went back to Willamina tomorrow. I declined his offer to accompany me. Back in the house I put in a load of wash, gave the house a lick and a promise, refilled the cat's dishes and left extra water and food in case I was gone a couple of days.

  With chores done, I called the fire chief. It was nine-thirty by then. I figured any self-respecting fireman would be up.

  He was.

  I launched into who I was, but he stopped me.

  "You're the woman with the flue fire. Certainly I remember you. I still have your garage door opener. I'm embarrassed, but I wanted to be sure your house didn't shoot to a full blaze."

  "No, thanks to you. It's all good."

  "Did you find your cat? Is he well? He had an unusual name, 'Charmer'?"

  "Close. Prince Charming. Yes, he's fine. But I need my opener. I've got another one, but I don't know where it is"

  "I'll bring it by today if you will be home."

  "Give me a time and I'll be here. No commitments today other than to keep the cat company, maybe rake the lawn."

  "Eleven?"

  "Agreed. Or, I could come in and get it from the station."

  "No need, I don't go into work until one. That'll give me plenty of time."

  He was right on time. I was expecting the fire hat and coat, but he was dressed in a brown sweater over a blue-flowered Hawaiian shirt, with brown slacks. Light hiker boots. No hat. A nice mix of casual and ready-to-work. In his right hand he had a white sack.

  He answered my greeting with, "I've got your door opener." He handed it to me. "And I brought a little something to go with coffee, if you have time." A sparkle of humor in his warm, golden brown eyes.

  I bit back a response of having all the time he needed and invited him in. The door opener was warm from his pocket, and I enjoyed the feel of it in my hand, a gentle intimacy.

  In the kitchen I busied myself making a fresh pot of coffee while he looked around.

  "Cheerful room. It feels wonderfully open with these windows. Mind if I sit down?"

  "Please do." I opened the sack. Large cinnamon rolls, two of them. "Maple frosting. I love these but never buy them, too much of an indulgence. How sweet of you."

  "Not as sweet as they'll be. I figured I have to make it up to you, after stealing your opener. I've never walked off with private property before." He handed me another one of his cards. Daniel Dee. "Call me Dan."

  "I'm Annie. Welcome to my kitchen."

  I poured our coffee and dressed our plates with the rolls. I cut into the sweet roll and took a bite. "Gosh, this is good, where did you get it?"

  He named the local bakery, run by his cousin, "But she doesn't give me a discount. Not anymore. I buy too many of them."

  I wondered if he has other women he takes them to, and felt a twinge of jealousy. Silly, this man isn't in any way mine. His honest face can't belong to a Romeo. Please not.

  I'd noticed a faint resemblance to a mature Harrison Ford who I will forever see swinging across the void clutching a terrified Princess Leia. Dan's eyes sparkled with humor and wrinkles appeared when laughed. Good hair, originally auburn? The red highlights were now graying. Looking at him, I felt emboldened to follow my intuition that nothing happens by accident.

  "Would you like to come to dinner tonight? You fed me." I cut another bite of the roll, "I'll feed you." I could barely believe I'd said it. Suddenly struck, I said, "You're not married are you?"

  He laughed. "No. I was once but that's been some years ended. She wanted greener pastures than a fireman could give her, I guess. No girlfriend, either. Are you suggesting a dinner date?"

  Now I was shy. "Just saying. I haven't been in town very much lately and like to know my local firemen. Never can tell when such a contact could be handy!"

  He laughed as I put the light spin on my forwardness. "I get it now! You think if you feed me dinner I'll clean your chimney. Everybody's looking for a discount!" He got the coffee pot, refilled both our cups.

  Whew, I thought I'd scared him off.

  "I'd love to eat dinner with you, but not tonight. I'm working the long shift tonight. Tomorrow?"

  "I won't be here tomorrow. I'm working on a project in Willamina, a quilt project with my cousin and some friends." That was certainly skimming the cream from the truth. "I'll be there for the next couple of days. And then I must check in with The Prince."

  He looked at me over his cup. "The Prince?"

  "My cat. The one that was locked in the garage during the chimney fire. I have a neighbor who usually looks in for me but she's out of town right now, so I'll need to come back in a couple of days."

  "Tell you what." He took his cup, plate and utensils to the sink, gave them a quick rinse and set them on the counter. "You're busy, I'm not so much so right now. Let me make sure I've got your cell number in my phone, and we'll be in touch over the next couple of days. Okay? Now, I've got to go to work."

  We did the number business, and I walked him to the door. "What are you doing for the rest of today, while I'm slaving over a hot fire engine?"

  "Prince and I have leaves to rake, laundry to finish, and for me, a trip to the library. Early to bed tonight for an early morning tomorrow."

  He said, "I'll go past the library on my way to work if you want me to drop off something. "

  I gave him the CD's and watched him drive away in his Ford pickup. Not flashy like a fire truck, but still a good, serviceable vehicle. I might miss the T-Bird, but not much.

  Chapter 31

  The Cleansing

  Prince was watching all my moves when I left the next morning, before first light. I'd stocked him up on everything, except company. Maybe another cat? Have to give some thought to it. I hugged him goodbye. He wiggled away and ran to the laundry room where he could sit on the dryer by the window and watch me leave. I doubt he saw the little wave I gave him as I backed out of the driveway.

  It was a good drive. Mists in the hills, coming into Willamina, past the Timbertown sign. The pale gray sky illuminated the tops of the hills in black and white. As I drove through the town, the soft russet and oranges of maple tree
s and sumacs glowed in front yards.

  Magda's place was looking spiffy. Sam had clearly been at it. The Cecil Brunner rose arbor was especially tidy and easy to walk through without snagging at my hair or clothes. The maroon leaves of her Japanese maple had crisp points and it looked as if it had been fluffed. A Tropicana rose by the door was blooming its last summer glory of orange and yellow.

  I let myself into the house with the key she had given me. The house had a different, indefinable, feel to it. I followed soft voices to the enclosed sun porch at the back. Magda and Sam were sitting together on the wooden swing suspended from the rafters, her head leaned lightly against his. They were watching the sunrise color the sky a spectacular pink and yellow and soft blue, and shared a coziness, a comfort that hadn't been here before. Together.

  They didn't hear me until I stepped onto the brick floor behind them. My smile matched theirs as they looked at me. Sam put a foot down, stopped the slow movement of the swing. "Hey, pretty girl! Come on in. Join the party. We're just watching the sun rise. Coffee in the kitchen if you want some." The table in front of them held cups and toast. They were in their jammies and robes, hers a soft yellow terrycloth, his a cotton, old fashioned, blue check.

  I thought Cary Grant. I fetched coffee and sat down in an easy chair to the side of theirs.

  "Here," said Magda, "pull that over so we can see your face." I did and they told me about how yesterday had gone. They had procured a lawyer for Lena. The judge determined her to not be a flight risk, so she was able to bail herself out.

  "She feels guilty about killing Tom, even in self-defense. I told her I understand and forgive her. My only problem is that she didn't tell me sooner. I wouldn't have spent all these months looking over my shoulder afraid I'd look back and there he'd be."

  Sam gave her hand a squeeze. "Well, that's all in the past now. We'll take care of Miss Lena, and you girls get that quilt show done."

  Again, the hints. What kind of plans, I wondered. It didn't feel to be my place to be asking that, right now.

  Magda put down her coffee cup. "I've got a call to make today to my friend, Mila. She's a spiritual healer, I need her to come cleanse that grave. I want my place of peace and sanity back. But first, I'm going to shower and get dressed. Nature Boy here has a few more tasks to do in my yard, and while he's at that, you can be working on the quilt."

  I told them about Len being in the show. Magda was okay with it. "It's good to have a man quilter. We like the diversity." She laughed. "I saw his Tumbling Blocks entry at the Fair. It deserved that blue ribbon." She turned back. "By the way, how're you two doing?"

  Put on the spot I shrugged. "He's rather heavy-handed. The truth? I'm looking more towards the fire chief."

  They said together, "What fire chief?"

  I'd told them about the flue fire, but none of the details about Len, or the fire chief. Now I told them about the impromptu brunch and the sometime dinner plan.

  "Sounds," said Sam, "like you are ready to come out of that box you've been in. And I'm glad to hear it. You know I'm not a fan of Len. But whatever, whoever you choose, be easy on yourself. I went through that you know, it takes a while to be steady again." He looked at Magda, "That means you too. 'Cept, I think you've been alone long enough! I'm curious about that cleansing of the ground."

  I too was curious, but Magda wanted her shower and she promised to explain later.

  I went into the quilt room. There was the quilt, ready, just as I'd left it. My eagerness to get at it, to be adding the checked piece and perhaps something else, surprised me. I could hardly wait until Magda could help me with the next step.

  We'd stashed the rulers and mat in the cupboard. I took them to the table. Time to use the fancy gadgets. The rotary cutter and pins were where I'd left them by the front piece. I was petting the velvet when Magda came in. "Looks like you're moving along well. It's time to cut the check and add it. But first, a little figuring."

  "Oh, no, not the math." Working the lengths and widths in her mind to know what size pieces to buy, and to cut, is easy for Magda. "I don't know how you do it."

  "There is no trick to it, Annie! I will teach you. Don't worry about it. You have the talent."

  I raised my eyebrows.

  "No, you do. I know you didn't think you could change Sophie's quilt, but you've already spiced it up."

  She was right about the rotary cutter, it was a slick tool, but I was cautious with the sharp edge as we cut the check. She helped me pin the check to the block. "Oh, I do like it!

  "I wonder what else you'll do with it. It's worthy of entry at our show. You'll be proud." She stood up and waved me to the machine. "Sam and I must go fetch Mila. She is going to cleanse the place where Lena buried Tommy. Even though he's no longer there I can't be at the studio without thinking about it. We're going to pick up Lena for the ceremony, and I've asked Wish as well. We figure to be at the studio around four. You will come, too, please?"

  "Of course. Is there anything I can do?"

  "Yes, there is. I need tobacco, a packet of the loose kind. And we must feed Mila. You can pick up the tobacco and a pre-cooked chicken, perhaps some chips, and some salad makings. Bring a jug of fresh, local-made cider, too. Here." She handed me a twenty-dollar bill. "While you're shopping you can be planning, figure out what is going to be your back piece. I'm in favor of the check for the back."

  She turned to leave, but then turned back. "If you could be at the studio before four and air the place out, I would much appreciate it."

  I worked on Sophie's quilt until near two o'clock, and left it flat so I would see it first when I returned.

  I felt somewhat goosy as I entered the studio kitchen and looked through the windows into the backyard. Someone had filled in the hole and raked it smooth, but the dirt over what had been the grave was mounded and darker, still quite visible. I didn't know what Magda and Mila had planned, but was glad that something more would be done.

  The studio felt dark, whether because I knew what had happened there, or whether my sense of the place changed when Thomas was unearthed I didn't know, but the mound gave me the heebe-jeebies. I didn't like being there alone. I busied myself with putting away the groceries, bringing down plates from the cupboard, setting out utensils on the counter. I was relieved to hear a car in the front driveway, and voices as people came inside.

  Wish Kelly wore plain clothes, Magda had on a sky blue skirt and a white blouse with a yellow, flowered vest. Lena was dressed in black slacks and a thin tan sweater over which she wore a hip length black jacket. Her expression was tense.

  The woman with them must be Mila, a small woman with a serene expression on her deep brown face. Behind her came Sam, like the sheriff wearing jeans and plaid shirt--the equivalent, for many Oregon men, of dressed up.

  Sam set the basket he held on the picnic table.

  I handed the pouch of tobacco to Magda.

  She did the introductions.

  Mila's black hair was gathered at the back of her neck in a long braid. Over a long-sleeved black tee she wore a red vest printed with native symbols, spirals of eternity, shafted arrows, mountains shaped of triangles. Her long, dark blue skirt brushed the tops of sturdy black oxfords. Around her neck was a beaded necklace, with a small leather bag hanging from it. She wrapped her hand around it occasionally as she talked.

  I gave Lena a hug, and felt some of the tenseness leave her body as I released her. She was near tears. She went to stand by Magda, who took her hand.

  Mila led us to stand around the mound, close to each other, and began to speak. "The feather of an eagle is sacred." From the basket on the table, she took a dark feather about a foot long with a shaft half again that length. The shaft was beaded in a diamond design, with several thin strips of white leather hanging from it. "The spirit of our winged friend will help in our purification ceremony."

  She held the feather by the beaded handle, gently moving it from side to side. "Magda has told me the ugly thing that happene
d here. The spirit energy from a tragedy can hang around unless we help it along, to go on to its own healing. We are here to help the spirit of Thomas. We're also here for the spirit of the bear.

  "We call on the four directions: To the East." She raised the feather. "To the South." Turning full circle, she offered it to the West, and then the North. After returning the feather to the basket Mila took out a large shell holding a herb bundle of silvered, dried sage that was several inches long, a candle, and matches.

  "The smoke of sage will cleanse." She lit the candle and set it back into the bowl. Her cheekbones came into high relief and a glow lit her dark eyes as she held the end of the sage bundle in the candle flame. It took some perseverance but it finally caught. She shook it to extinguish the flame, leaving an aromatic smoke to rise.

  "The smoke will carry away the negative spirits that remain here, or that we bring with us. If you have a problem with the ceremony you can say 'no' as I come to you, and I'll pass you by."

  If Magda had asked for this to be done, I was in.

  "First, we will smudge with the smoke, then each of us will have a chance to talk to the spirit of the man who died, or to say whatever you want. Magda, I will start with you."

  She moved the smoke up and down in front of Magda. With her hands Magda pulled the smoke onto her head. Breathing deep of the aromatic tendrils, she washed her face in it. She turned around and Mila bathed her back in the smoke. Magda turned around and said, "Thank you," to Mila who acknowledged the respect with what sounded like, "Ah ho!" She repeated the smudging for Lena, Sam, Wish Kelly, and me. She handed Sam the bundle. "As our elder would you please smudge me?"

  "With pleasure." Sam followed Mila's lead as if he was familiar, and comfortable with the action. When he finished, Mila took the bundle and returned it to the bowl. She set the bowl, still trailing smoke, on the mound. The small flame of the candle flickered.

  She stood still, her head tilted towards the sky, murmuring in a low voice. The late afternoon sun cast color onto the high clouds, outlining them with silver. A robin settled down on the grass some feet from us, cocked his head, hopped a few inches, tilted his head again, and pecked sharply at the ground. As Mila continued to pray, the robin snagged a worm and flew away with it.