“Both.” Theo tried to lift her head. Her neck didn’t feel connected to it. It sort of wobbled about. “Can you get a message to him?”
“Sure.”
“Ask him to pick up the boys from his mom.”
“You haven’t heard,” said Rex.
“Heard what?” Theo decided her brain felt mushy, kind of like a wet sponge.
Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Should I call the doctor for you, or an ambulance?”
“No. I don’t need an ambulance and I don’t think there’s anything the doctor can do unless he shoots me to put me out of my misery. I simply have some kind of bug. Now what haven’t I heard?” She leaned her forehead against the wall but instead of it giving her some support, she could swear it was moving. It looked odd, like it was her car-door interior. Weird.
“Jane has busted her arm or her pelvis or both. I don’t have exact information, but I do know she’s in an ambulance on the way to Knoxville.” Rex cleared his throat. “No one’s said how it happened.”
“My children.” Theo blinked against the invading darkness and struggled to stand but was trapped in her chair. Bizarre. She tried leaning her forehead against the other wall. It wasn’t there. As she lost consciousness, she thought she heard Rex say, “Okay.”
Tony heard Rex’s report of an odd conversation with Theo. According to Rex, he thought Theo sounded extremely confused and wasn’t sure if she was at the house or where she called from. He was sure he heard her being sick to her stomach.
“Is Mom going to be okay?” Behind the lenses of his glasses, Chris’s big hazel eyes were filled with worry.
“She should be. It’s probably just one of those twenty-four-hour bugs.” Pushing the question mirroring his own concerns aside, Tony glanced at the gas station he was approaching and noticed a man hurrying out of the building. He looked Tony in the face as he shoved past an old man and pointed a double-barrel shotgun at Tony before climbing into a black pickup parked by the door, the engine running. When the pickup blasted out of the parking lot, almost running into Tony’s vehicle and took off like a bat, Tony swerved to avoid being hurt by the vehicle. It didn’t even have a flash of silver on the bumper.
Flipping on the light bar and siren, Tony kept his eyes on the pickup racing ahead of them and talked to Rex on the radio. The black truck churned up the vegetation on the narrow strip of earth between the pavement and a ditch as it swerved over the center line and then back over to the shoulder. Tony sincerely hoped none of them would meet an oncoming vehicle. If the pickup struck another vehicle head-on at this speed, they’d all be in trouble.
Ignoring Tony’s pursuit, the pickup wasn’t slowing. The business end of a double-barrel shotgun emerged from the small back window and caused Tony to ease off slightly on the accelerator. Tony, even more sincerely than wanting no accident, hoped the felon wouldn’t shoot at the small heads of his passengers. He didn’t want to scare the boys, but he couldn’t allow them to be targets. “I want both of you boys to bend forward or slide way down in your seats so your heads aren’t visible.” He wondered if he should tell them to unbuckle their seatbelts and get on the floor. He discarded the idea because of the danger of their skidding into a ditch and having the Blazer roll over.
“Okay.” Both of the young voices sounded serious.
Rex’s voice supplied information. The two men in the black pickup had indeed robbed the gas station seconds before encountering Tony on the road. Wade and Sheila were on their way from town.
Tony considered the situation madness. What were the odds of someone robbing a gas station with a shotgun? And what were the odds of the idiot doing it practically in front of the sheriff? Tony didn’t know exactly what the men had done, but knew, at minimum, it had to be armed robbery. Now Tony couldn’t believe he was driving with his children immediately behind an obviously dangerous felon. The little girls were sound asleep in their car seats, Jamie was buckled in between them and Chris scrunched down, wide-eyed in the front passenger seat and listening to the constant radio chatter.
“Your mom is going to have a fit.” Tony stared at the road ahead, forgetting for the moment that Theo was missing.
“Maybe she’s too busy throwing up to care.” Chris, no dummy even if he was only twelve years old, started laughing. “Your mom is going to have a fit, too. Can grandma still ground you even if she’s in the hospital?”
“Probably,” Tony muttered. “Don’t tell her, okay? Either of you. Hearing about this will not make her feel better.”
“Okay.” Two small voices repeated.
He knew it was wrong to have the boys in the Blazer. He knew it would be wrong to let the armed robber run loose in the county, and it would be equally wrong to push the boys out on the side of the road. The little girls in their car seats were well below the level of glass in the windows. The boys were not. For that matter, no one was safe.
“Good,” Tony said. “Keep those heads down and don’t pop up to look until I say so.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Two quiet voices whispered in unison, sounding younger than usual.
Tony felt guilty. It wasn’t Theo’s fault. When he’d last talked with her, she had been so busy throwing up it was impossible to have a conversation. It certainly wasn’t his mother’s fault. Broken bones in her arm and hip, particularly at her age, were nothing to mess around with. It was blind dumb luck that put them into this situation, and he could only hope it wasn’t going to get worse.
Tony even considered simply pulling over to the side of the road and stopping, letting the bad guy get away. But as recklessly as the man was driving, too many other innocent people were endangered. Tony was sworn to protect and serve, but the truth was, he would have chased the bad guy anyway.
He hoped the scream of the siren and his lights flashing would warn everyone else on the road. This two-lane road would intersect with another one in only a mile. The updates on his radio gave him hope that Wade and Sheila could reach it first.
Coming around a sharp turn, Tony saw a road block in the distance. Heaving a deep sigh of relief and a prayer of thanks, he slowed down and stopped, using the Blazer to close the road. Unable to go forward or turn and go back, their felons were trapped. Tony sat and watched until Sheila closed the back door of her vehicle, locking the handcuffed men inside.
“That was awesome, Dad.” Chris’s voice held a note of joy mixed with excitement.
“Do not ever tell your mother.” Tony gave thanks for being bald. His arriving home with instantly snow-white hair might be considered suspicious.
Theo gradually became aware of light. She wasn’t quite sure where she was, though. There was so much white light it was almost blinding. The sounds made her think she had fallen asleep with the television on. Someone was talking, a woman, but it sounded like nonsense. Before she could form a good idea of where she was, her eyes closed and she slid back into unconsciousness.
“Theo? Theo.” Each time she heard her name, it seemed to be spoken in a louder voice. Finally, desperate to make the voices stop she said, “What?”
“How are you feeling?” The voice was female and sounded more Southern than the local Appalachian accent. Although it was familiar, Theo drifted off again without identifying it.
Sometime later, but Theo had no way of knowing how much later, she heard the voice again. She recognized it this time. Grace. Doctor Grace Claybough sat on a chair next to her bed. Theo found this very confusing. There was no chair in her bedroom. “Where did the chair come from? Did I buy that?”
Grace laughed. “No. It’s our chair.” She reached over and took Theo’s hand. “You’re at the clinic.”
Theo struggled with her eyelids. They felt so heavy, she wondered why they were taped down. Did it have something to do with being punched in the eye during the shop hop? “Why the clinic?”
“You came here on your own. You told Nurse Foxx that you were dying and preferred to do it here.” Grace smiled again, this time
with more sympathy. “You said you didn’t want to frighten your children.”
Theo gave up the struggle with her eyelids and left them closed against the light. Grace’s story sounded vaguely familiar to her. Maybe something she’d seen on television. “Tell me the truth. Am I dying?”
“No.”
Theo believed Grace. Or at least she wanted to believe her. “I feel wretched.” In her head she could hear children’s voices, but not her children. Her eyes flew open again. “What happened to the children? Are they safe?”
Grace patted her arm, and Theo became aware that she was attached to an IV.
“The children were not with you.” Grace smiled again. “I gather you left them with your mother-in-law. The children are all fine.”
Theo had the sense Grace wasn’t telling her everything, but she didn’t know what to ask. She didn’t have the energy to think.
THE GIFT QUILT—MYSTERY QUILT THE FOURTH BODY OF CLUES PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER
Very carefully measure your completed blocks. They should be 15-1/2″ by 15-1/2″; if smaller than that you will need to trim the blocks to the largest common size and adjust your sashing strips accordingly.
Sew one 2″ by 15-1/2″ strip of fabric (C) on two opposing sides of four blocks.
Sew one 2″ by 15-1/2″ strip of fabric (C) on only one side of the remaining eight blocks.
Sew one of the single strip blocks to each side of the double strip blocks making sure (C) is on the outside edge. Make four rows of three blocks. Press all seams to (C). Set aside.
Sew a 2″ square of fabric (D) on the end of remaining 2″ by 15-1/2″ strips of fabric (C). Connect three long strips with the squares and finish each strip with a square. Sew one of these new strips between the rows of three blocks with sashing. Add one strip to top and bottom. Press all seams to (C).
Measure the length and width, at top, bottom and middle. Use the average to cut two strips 4-1/2″ of (A) to length and two strips to the width.
Sew the long 4-1/2″ strips of fabric (A) on each of the long sides of the pieced center. Press to (A).
Sew a 4-1/2″ square of (D) to each end of the width long strip. Sew to top and bottom edge of the quilt.
Pat yourself on the back and do the happy quilters’ dance.
Quilt as desired and bind with remaining 2-1/2″ strips of (D).
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Valentine’s Day party and silent auction at the museum were going ahead, without Jane. The report from her sister, Martha, was that Jane was resting comfortably and she absolutely did not want any visitor with the flu, especially not her daughter-in-law. She would depend on her sister and children to save a slice of pie for her, if one of them had the high bid.
Tony approached his aunt. “How’s the voting?”
“It’s wonderful. Look around. People are practically fighting to get to the bidding sheets.” Martha grinned. “I’ve already had to add additional pages on the sheets. Each one only has room for twenty bids. Some have already gone onto the third auction sheets, and they have a minimum one-dollar increase.”
“Have you collected some pie samples for mom?” Tony felt like a greedy, ungrateful son, but he didn’t want to have to share his samples with anyone.
“Yes. I fought my way through the crowd and snagged some for each of us. I’m eating mine and putting hers in the freezer. My sister can enjoy them when she gets home.”
Tony nodded his approval and watched young Alvin Tibbles, Martha’s renter and biggest fan, helping with the event. At least, he was helping when he wasn’t smiling at the teenage beauty making goo-goo eyes at him.
Tony waved at artist Olivia Hudson, who was sitting in her wheelchair out of the main stream of traffic. He headed over to chat.
“We haven’t seen you for a while.” Tony pulled a folding chair closer to her and sat. “You decided to celebrate from your wheelchair?”
“Oh, yes.” Olivia gestured to the crowd pushing and jostling to get close to the silent-auction items. “I know my limitations. The eager shoppers would trample me without looking back to get a piece of the winning pie.”
“It is pretty rough over in the sample corner.” Tony agreed. “A small gray-haired woman slugged me in the stomach with her elbow and snatched the tidbit I was reaching for. I’d be removed from office if I punched her, but I considered it for a moment.”
Olivia laughed. “Luckily, my husband is not only large but he doesn’t hold an elected office. He was ruthless and brought me several wonderful samples.”
Tony showed her his small empty paper plate. “Does he work for hire?”
“No. I’m afraid you’ll have to fight your own battles.”
Tony stood. “Unless I can get you something, I’ll head back to the fray.”
Olivia wished him good hunting and rolled her chair over to chat with Jack Gates.
The wheelchair friends had much in common, Tony thought. Olivia had prosthetic legs, but she didn’t like being jostled and always used the chair in a crowd.
Today, Jack sat in a chair out of the chaos of the party. With his slow, awkward gait and an anxious, hungry crowd, he was safer seated than balancing, even with a cane.
Tony’s attention was attracted by a hand-held horn blasting from the doorway. Roscoe.
“Everyone, we’re about to launch.” Roscoe’s arm motions looked like the third base coach sending a runner home. “Come on.”
The crowd, having stripped the pie-sample plates to the last flaky crumb, headed outside to the area blocked off for their safety. Roscoe and the professor, his wife, launched a new, small trebuchet, one that would sit comfortably in the bed of their new pickup. The swinging arm tossed small, red, paper bags containing an assortment of chocolates and mints into the cheering crowd.
Although she felt much better than she had the previous day, Theo didn’t feel like risking a relapse by eating pie, so she concentrated on visiting with friends, standing upwind of the food.
The combination silent auction and garage sale seemed to be a success. Theo often heard that it was hard to sell books at a garage sale, but the recently frozen books, now without bedbugs, were so cheap they were almost free. The stacks were definitely getting shorter.
A couple standing near her caught her eye and she watched, fascinated, as Quentin Mize smiled at the tall, slender woman standing next to him. Amy. Poor posture and messy dishwater-colored hair pulled into an unflattering ponytail prevented Amy from attracting much attention. Theo thought her posture was intentional.
Amy worked at the post office. After she divorced her lazy bum of a husband, she had paid off their debts and made a quiet, solitary life for herself. For extra income, she made homemade scented soaps to sell at craft bazaars, as well as knitting fine scarves and baby blankets. Theo had heard from Amy’s landlord and landlady that even though the young woman lived on the second floor of their house, the mice made a racket in comparison to their renter.
The opposite might be said of Quentin. He owned land, valuable land, he’d inherited at a young age. His ramshackle trailer rested under a curtain of kudzu along with a shed held together with ancient dirt. Theo wondered if Quentin had taken Amy up to see his property and, if so, had she enjoyed viewing the broken-down rust farm he lived in? It didn’t matter. Even though they were an interesting combination, it was not as unexpected as the relationship between goofy Roscoe and the university professor.
The crowd returned to the barn. Moments later, the lights dimmed gradually until only the illuminated “Exit” signs were visible. The crowd made noises of confusion and concern. Theo waited where she was rather than trip over someone standing near her.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” shouted a man with a deep voice. At his words, the overhead lights came back on. A moment of stunned silence was followed almost immediately by chaos and the room filled with laughter.
Theo pushed her way through the crowd, looking for a place where she could see what was happening. When she squee
zed past the egg-shaped synchronized couple Theo had watched on the sidewalk, she stopped. Her eyes went wide and she was afraid her mouth dropped open.
The noise of the crowd vanished as almost everyone in the building leaned forward, staring openly. Theo noticed many more mouths than hers were ajar. And they were watching and listening.
Theo accidently had the best view of anyone. Three feet away from her, Not Bob was dressed as Cupid. The tall, well-built man wore a flowing white toga exposing one muscular shoulder. Tiny little wings made from iridescent gold fabric were attached to his back, and he carried a golden bow and arrow. The arrow had a rubber sink stopper on the end where the point should be. Theo thought he looked more like a Roman senator than Cupid except for the wings and the mischievous and adoring gaze he focused on Sheila. The smile was charming. It made a nice contrast with the pair of well-worn work boots peeking out from underneath his drapery.
He tossed handmade paper valentines to the crowd as he walked toward his goal.
Unblinking, Sheila appeared frozen in place near the refreshment table, holding a ladle containing pink punch. Some punch splashed on the tablecloth nowhere near a cup.
Cupid approached Sheila, and knelt somewhat clumsily, almost pulling the toga from his shoulder. The small party crowd watched in awe as the oversized cherub groped in the folds of his gown, searching for something. At length he retrieved a small, round box. He said something to Sheila that no one could hear but her. Although Theo and, she assumed, the rest of the spectators knew what he was asking.
Sheila still didn’t move. Theo didn’t think Sheila had breathed since Cupid arrived.
“What if I say no?” Sheila’s question was barely audible but Theo was close enough to hear.
Cupid seemed undeterred. He reached out and took Sheila’s left hand and whispered something most of the audience could not hear, but again, because she was almost right next to them, Theo did. “If you say no, I’ll give you a few weeks to reconsider.” Cupid paused. “And at the St. Patrick’s Day celebration, I can predict a huge leprechaun in your future.”
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