Mila's voice became louder. I heard again, "Ah ho!"
Peace settled into me.
"I have asked forgiveness from the spirit of the bear for the taking of his life without respect." She opened the tobacco packet, took out pieces and sprinkled them onto the ground. "Lena, you might also want to do this, to let the spirit of the bear go."
Mila turned to Magda. "You asked for this healing. Creator and His spirits are with us. Now is your time to speak."
Magda took a deep breath. "I want to speak to Tommy. I don't know if your spirit is here... I hope so. I've been so angry at you. I've hated you. I'm glad you can't hurt me anymore. That's awful to say but it is what's in my heart. I want to change that now, to release you, and myself, from this pain we've put on each other. I did love you." Her voice faltered and her tears flowed in a stream. Silently she brushed the tears away with her left hand, her right still tight within Lena's grasp. "That's all I have to say now."
Mila looked at Lena and nodded.
Lena released Magda's hand and clutched hers together, as if she was praying.
"Oh, God. I feel so awful. I killed this man." She took a deep breath and continued. "Tom, you know I didn't mean to. I wonder if you can hear me, can feel my sadness. My sorrow. I don't know if I would make it different if I had a chance to do it again. I was so frightened of you. I pray that your spirit can leave now. I want to let you go. I want us both to be free. I forgive you. And I forgive me."
She let her hands fall to her sides, bent her head. "Amen." When she raised her head, there was a gentle smile on her lips. No tears. "Oh, yes," she took the packet that Mila offered. "Bear, I'm sorry. You were just being a bear. And I was a scared woman. Please forgive me." She sprinkled tobacco onto the ground.
Sam spoke then. "Man, if your spirit is listening, I say to you, you can go on your way now. I'm here to help Magda, with or without your blessing. But I hope you go now to a restful peace. This place needs it. So does Magda." There was an edge to his voice. "I'm done." He nodded to Mila.
Mila said, "Mr. Sam, think about this. Are you done? This ceremony is a cleansing of all our spirits, including yours."
"You want more from me? I don't even know this person."
"But you have anger at him, anger that is here, now. I'm asking you to find a way to give that negative energy to the smoke. This is the time to let him go on his spirit journey."
Sam seemed to consider her words. Asking Mila's permission with a look, he took up the sage. Bringing it closer to his face, he blew on the pale red embers, rekindling the smoke. "So, Tom. I don't suppose you meant this to happen. I've made a mistake or two in my life too." He stopped, and then said, "If your spirit is really here I sure don't want to be the one to keep it here. So, I let my hard feelings for you all go up in smoke." He held the bundle in front of him, took a deep breath and blew into the smoke.
He handed the bundle to Mila. "Hey, give me that tobacco, please." He tore off a large chunk, that he shredded into smaller pieces. He sprinkled them over the mound. "Dang! I feel better. Hope that all worked for him."
"Thank you, Sam." To the sheriff and me she said, "Which of you wants to go first?"
We didn't have much to say. He muttered, "Rest in peace, man."
I said, "Amen," hoping I didn't sound flip.
Mila brought the sage bundle back to Magda. "Anything else?"
"I'd like to smudge Tommy's spirit."
Mila waved the sage, bringing forth a good blaze on the end of the bundle until the smoke was heavy. She handed it to Magda. "Release him."
Magda looked in front of her as if she could see him, waved the smoke in a long, deep oval. "Tommy. I pray that you find a place to fish and..." She smiled. "...to ride your board through the tunnel of a long wave. So long."
Mila took the bundle, said, "Ah ho!" and waved it over what now felt to be an empty mound. In a wide arc, she released the smoke to the Four Directions. "We send this smoke into every corner of this yard, through the trees, the flowers, freeing all the creatures from what happened here: the flying ones, the creeping ones, the two legged and the four legged. Let the people who live and come here feel peace. Ah ho!"
Her lips relaxed into a soft smile. She placed the smoking sage into the shell, set the shell onto the center of the cleansed earth, took up the feather. Waving it sharply over the candle flame, she extinguished it. "I think there is food, now?"
We followed Magda into the kitchen where we feasted. For the first time in many days everyone appeared to be happy. Released. I couldn't fathom the why of it, not sure I believed in the effect of the ceremony. But it didn't matter. The peace in the air was palpable and the smell of the sage on our clothes and in our hair filled the kitchen.
Mila said, "I'll leave the bowl and sage here with you. If you like you can smudge the house, inside and out. Anytime. Or not, as you want. I thank you for asking me to do the ceremony."
After the meal Magda and Sam took Mila home. The sheriff left. I took Lena home.
At her house she gathered her purse, and then turned to look at me. Her face was smooth, without the lines of anger and fear. "I don't know what that was all about," she said, "but thank you for being there. No matter what happens, I feel strong enough to get through it." She hugged me. It was dusk and the outside light came on as she stepped onto the driveway. I watched her go in, and then drove to Magda's.
We would sew and shop tomorrow at the nearest fabric store. I had a couple more ideas to put into action, and was amazed to find that I was eager to talk it over with Magda, to get this quilt done. With the ceremony I found that I'd freed up my hold on Roger, had let him go as well. I didn't understand the how of it, but that night, after a late cup of chamomile tea with Magda and Sampson, I slept like a baby. Free.
Chapter 32
Sweethearts
In the morning I slept late. I was leaving the bathroom a little after eight when I saw Sam coming from Magda's room. He was wearing the checked robe, his hair was tousled, and when he saw me he laughed.
"Caught like a rat in a trap!" His eyes were happy, his back straight.
"Well, well," was all I could say. "I'm going to make coffee. Will you two be wanting some?" I swallowed a giggle which made my voice squeak.
"No. Yes. You make it. I'll come get some for me and Magda. We'll meet you in the sun room." He slipped past me into the hall bathroom. Always a gentleman, he'd left the master bathroom to her.
I went on into the kitchen, feeling more lighthearted than I had in...in maybe years. Between the ceremony last night and this confirmation of my suspicions, the world seemed to be full of light.
I had my coffee and English muffin in the sun room when the sweethearts came in, each carrying a coffee cup, her with a bowl of green grapes, him with a plate holding two toasted muffins. They settled the china on the coffee table and took their places in the swing.
Magda said, "We're going to go shopping, Sam. Get you your own robe." She snorted softly, and her eyes sparkled. "That'll do it for today, but I'm making some big changes around here, starting with cleaning out this house."
I'd not really known Magda very long, but still, this giddy happiness made her so attractive that I would have sworn she was taller, more slender. Her skin had a rosy glow.
"Out with the old." She tugged on the arm of the robe. "And in with the new!"
He leaned over and kissed her.
I wondered if I should be somewhere else. But it was all right. "Good, you can leave me at the nearest fabric shop while you shop for the right robe. For Mr. Cool, here, right?"
They both grinned at me.
"Okay. Just you and me. We've got some stores in McMinnville where I can get everything we need. Sammy, any special color you want your robe to be?"
"Heck, no. Anything you pick out will be perfect. I do like a ribbed robe. What is that called, kinda like a blanket?"
"Chenille."
"Hard to find. We'll see."
I stood up. "I'm going to
get ready. Before we go shopping, Magda and I need to consult about Sophie's quilt."
"Is it still Mom's quilt, or isn't it more yours, now?" Sam said.
"More like mine."
Sam said, "I've got to look at it. Sounds like it is going to be special. Zingy."
His statement gave me an idea, but I kept it to myself.
"Oh, gosh!" Magda said. "Time has slipped away from me. This afternoon is Quilt Squares! Gotta be there. You must come with me, Annie." She started to get up, and then relaxed back down beside Sam. "You get ready. I'm going to sit for a minute more with Sammy."
Magda wasn't able to leave me at the quilt store, and run; we looked at fabric together. She didn't much care for the striped pattern I picked. "You have a different color sense than I do, that's for sure. I have faith that you're seeing something I'm not."
Our next stop was at a specialty shop for men's clothes, where she found a light brown robe, of wonderfully deep, soft terry. Accented with clear, red piping around the collar, cuffs and the below-the-waist front pocket, the robe was, as Magda declared, "Smashing! Sammy will look adorable in it."
Two events occurred that afternoon. Len called on my cell phone while I was enjoying the late September sun on an outside bench while Magda finished up her shopping. I watched a black and yellow bee working a mum in a container, no doubt enjoying the sun as much as I.
I wondered if the bee sensed the end of summer, taking with it the bounty of nectar. Maybe it lived in the moment as I was doing. The ring of the cell in my pocket was an irritation, but when I saw it was Len I was curious enough to answer. "Hi. What's up?"
"Where are you?" His tone was demanding. "I've been by your house and your cat's alone."
Huh? I'd already put him in my past, didn't appreciate realizing that just a couple weeks ago I'd of been flattered that he missed me. I wouldn't have heard that propriety tone in the same way. I'd of thought it was cute. Now it annoyed me.
"At Magda's." I'd almost said, Sam and Magda's but he was no longer in my circle of people who needed-to-know anything about me or mine. In a new way, Magda was "mine", too. "We had some things to take care of yesterday so I stayed over. Plus..." This I did feel like sharing with him. "I'm close to having Aunt Sophie's quilt done."
"How could you? You don't know what you're doing." He tried to offend me with the truth.
I laughed. "I didn't, but Magda's been teaching me. Guess what? I'm liking it, and seem to have some talent at it."
"You? Well, it must be in your blood." I knew when his tone changed from, 'Ha, you?' to eager interest that he wanted something from me. "Can I come over and see it? You know, I might have something to offer. You do remember the blue ribbon on Tumbling Blocks, don't you?"
How could it hurt? "Sure. Okay, but not until I'm back home. I'll be bringing it back to work on. Lunch tomorrow maybe? You could pick up sandwiches from a deli in town? We can talk quilting, but don't expect to stay long, I've got a lot to do on it to be ready to enter it into the show. You're lucky, already being accepted. By the way, where was your signature? You did sign it, right?"
"You didn't see the signature? It's down at the bottom right, but small. L. Bolder. 2010. We can talk about that, where you put your name and date. Whatever." He was completely "old friends" now. "I'll bring the sandwiches. Maybe we can even eat outside, by the river."
"That'll depend on the weather. See ya tomorrow. We can talk rulers and mats and arithmetic."
I clicked off the phone, not sure I'd been wise to ask him to lunch. But what the hey, maybe he could help me understand the math. I hadn't mentioned to Len that Sam would be there with me. Sam wanted to visit his friend in the retirement home again.
Having Len and Sam in the same house could be troublesome, but I'd have Sam as a shield.
Chapter 33
A Quilting Bee
The robe fit Sam perfectly. I swear it made him look younger. Or maybe that was an effect of their romance on both of them? "I'll just leave it here." He smiled his roguish grin.
The meeting of the Quilt Squares was in the room above Sunshine's thrift store on Main Street. Magda led me to stairs attached to the side of the building.
At the top we entered a room that reminded me of an empty hay loft in a big old barn. Windows from all sides plus a skylight lit up the room with natural illumination. Pole lamps at either end of the frame highlighted the work space.
Six women were gathered around a quilt frame. "This is the whole of the guild, except Lena, who's at home today." The first three I'd met with Magda at the Fair. Marge was wearing a quilted vest. Sunshine lifted a mug, asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee.
I shook my head.
Judy smiled a hello as she checked threaded needles on the quilt. Mariah looked to be a twin of Marge. Karleene sent me a reserved smile, and Gretchen, patted my shoulder. "Any questions, just ask."
Magda said "We're working the door prize for the show. A queen. Made of our favorite kind of stars."
Magda directed me to sit at the quilt frame and showed me how to use the thin, threaded needle in front of me to take small stitches. "Just do your best. Four to an inch, or so. A quiltzilla like Lena will do 10 to 15. Perfectly."
"Quiltzilla?"
"A person," said Sunshine, "who is obsessed with quilting."
"Perfect quilting. Unlike us," amended Karleene.
It was a comfortable afternoon, despite the fact that they talked a special language, casually mentioning 'paper piecing', and 'stitch-in-the-ditch'. I decide these women are, despite their protestations of being perfectionists, quilt culters. I feel myself falling into their finely woven net of waxed quilt thread. I was through displaying my ignorance, would look it all up on the Internet, later.
I never thought I'd have so much fun, sewing. These women kept me in stitches. Seemingly oblivious to Magda and Lena's situation, they satisfied some of my curiosity about the quilting history of their town by telling me a true story that involved what the media of 1915 called a Murder Quilt. A woman was accused of murdering her husband but the local women, her friends, didn't believe it. To support the cost of her defense they collectively made a quilt, with scenes from the incident, working on their squares in the courtroom, and raffled it off.
"How'd it all come out?"
"The jury didn't agree with the wife's friends. The story's in a local book, and the quilt is in the archives of the Oregon State Historical Society, in Portland," said Mariah. They went back to stitching.
They went on to gossip about one of the gals who wasn't there. One bit in particular caught my attention. "Didja hear," put in Gretchen, "that Katie Heap is getting a new car?" In an aside to me she said, "Katie is a local gal who sits in with us at the frame now and then. You'll meet her at the show." She continued to the group, "She left that old husband, got a new car, a sporty thing that only seats two. A convertible. Don't think she'll have it long, she's always buying stuff at garage sales and selling it at her booth here at Sunshine's place."
"Yeah," said Marge. "That car is a piece of fancy work, like her T-bird."
"What color is it?" Mariah said.
"Baby blue. Pretty much the same as her 'Bird."
Couldn't be. There are lots of old T-Birds around, lots of them blue.
"That car wouldn't be practical in this part of the country. Could rust up quick in the rain," said Sunshine.
"Don't think that's a problem. She's got a place she stashes it, with a quilter friend from Portland." Gretchen paused to grin, before adding, "Something somebody said made me think the friend might be at our show. You won't miss seeing that car if it shows up, though I doubt if the top will be down in November."
My thoughts were spinning. Maybe Len knows this Katie person. After all, he did win a blue ribbon and these quilters appear to know each other. I'll have to ask him tomorrow.
In a quiet moment Gretchen said to Magda, "I am so very sorry about what happened to your husband. What a thing!" She pointed her needle at Magda. "
I'm glad that you and Lena are all right. But, it's been so long that your husband's been gone that I'd nearly forgot you were married."
"Well, I am...was," replied Magda, setting aside her needle for the moment. "Yes, it was ugly. Frankly, much of the marriage was, too."
The others at the table kept their needles busy, but everyone was listening.
"It all seems like a bad dream."
"Ugly, but sometimes that's the way it is. I'm ready to move on."
There was a collective sigh. They all were glad someone had brought up Tom's death. The women each added their condolences. We turned again to our needles. Magda sat thinking and then said, with a little snort of laughter, "Oh, I hope our story never ends up in a book." The women looked at each other, someone started to giggle, and soon they were all hooting, including Magda.
I sat quietly, concentrating on my stitching and listening as they explained "paper-piecing".
Marge said, "You put your fabric right sides together then pin the paper on top, the paper with the diagram of what you're sewing. You sew on the lines then fold it back and trim away the excess paper, leaving a small seam allowance. It's a perfect image."
I thought impossible, as they rolled the quilt on the frame to expose more top, and went back to quilting. Mariah started talking about a new technique called, "Paperless piecing."
That set me off. I said, "This is all just impossible, and isn't paperless piecing where we came in?" They wanted to demonstrate the techniques to me, but I demurred, "One thing at a time, ladies. You've got me at a quilt frame, more than I ever thought I'd do. I'm going to finish my aunt's quilt, and be done with it. I won't be needing any of that extra info."
A couple rolled their eyes, and someone said, "That's what I thought, too."
Scandal Page 15
