Patchwork Connections

by Carol Dean Jones

  I’m sorry it took me so long to contact you. I don’t know what got into me the night we had dinner. I abruptly tried to kiss you, and that must have been very upsetting for you. I deserved the slap you gave me.

  I know I performed disgracefully on the job, as well, and I completely understand why you had to let me go. I just hoped then, and continue to hope now, that we can continue to be friends and give ourselves the opportunity to find out if there could be more. Please don’t discount the possibilities.

  Derek

  Martha sat holding the letter and trying to make sense of it. Continue to be friends? Don’t discount the possibilities? “What possibilities?” she said aloud. “This man is totally out of touch with reality.”

  Martha folded the letter and placed it in a desk drawer. She wondered briefly if she’d done anything to encourage him or to make him think they were friends. She felt certain she hadn’t given him the wrong message since she had made every attempt to avoid him at the office. But then I did go to dinner with him. I shouldn’t have done that, she realized. But how could I have known?

  She didn’t know how to respond to the letter, but decided it really didn’t require a response. She reached into the desk, removed the letter, and dropped it in the trash can.

  * * * * *

  As she was warming up her lasagna, the phone rang three times, but by the time she answered there was no one on the line.

  The missed-call feature simply read “private caller.”

  Chapter 12

  Timothy Ward was scheduled to arrive on a Friday afternoon, and Sophie had a party planned for the next day to introduce him to her friends. Once the guest list got beyond thirty, Sophie decided to rent space in the community center.

  “I would like to bring Martha if that’s okay with you,” Sarah asked.

  “Of course! She’s already on the guest list!” Sophie responded.

  “Is Barney on the guest list?” she asked in a teasing tone.

  “Do you think I want my son exposed to that flea-bitten mutt?” Sophie responded, slipping a piece of her sandwich under the table to Barney.

  “No table scraps, Sophie! You know better.”

  “How do you think dogs survived for generations before canned Mutt Morsels was invented?”

  “Still, no table scraps.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry pal,” she said patting Barney’s head under the table and slipping the last of her potato chips into his eager mouth.

  When Sarah got home from Stitches the next day, Sophie came hobbling out of her house at a disturbing speed, considering the sidewalk was icy.

  “Slow down, Sophie! I’ll come over there.” Sarah hurried across the street to see what had her friend in such a tizzy only to discover that Timothy had arrived, and Sophie was eager for her friend to meet him.

  “This is my son, Timothy,” Sophie said proudly as Timothy appeared at the door. They exchanged the usual polite greetings, and Timothy asked her to come in. Sarah was taken aback by his appearance. She hadn’t expected him to be such a big man. He was well over six feet tall and towered over his mother. He was broad shouldered and apparently in excellent shape. I guess that’s what a lifetime of physical work does for you, she thought. His hair was long, and a full beard covered part of his rugged, deeply tanned face. He had a deep baritone voice and a smile that was infectious.

  “I’m eager to meet your dog,” he said in his baritone voice. “I understand he’s won numerous awards as the ugliest dog in town.” It was immediately evident that he shared his mother’s brand of humor.

  “Okay. I see you are your mother’s son. Just wait until you meet Barney. He’s beautiful, and you’ll immediately love him.”

  “Beautiful like a warthog,” Sophie quietly interjected.

  Wanting to protect her furry friend, Sarah changed the subject saying, “I’m eager to hear about your work, Timothy.”

  “Call me Tim, and folks accuse me of not having anything else to talk about but the pipeline, so I’m sure I’ll bore you to tears over the next couple of months.”

  Sophie served coffee and brought out her cookie jar. Sarah was surprised to see her bring the whole jar to the table. She usually spread the cookies out on a plate. “You still have my old cookie jar?” Tim chuckled with surprise as he scooped up a generous handful of his favorite cookies.

  After spending a short time with the newly united Ward family, Sarah hurried home to freshen up and get ready for the quilt group meeting.

  That evening as Sarah arrived at Kimberley and Christina’s house, she was greeted by an enthusiastic group who were all clambering to hear about Sophie’s son. “I understand you told Anna he was a hunk!” Christina said laughing. Caitlyn, who had entered with Sarah, blushed probably at the thought of Sarah referring to anyone as a hunk.

  After Sarah filled the women in on what little she knew about Timothy, the group headed for the back room to see the long-arm quilting machine. The room they were using for the large machine was an addition their father had added for his mother when she began having trouble with the stairs. As they walked through the house, Kimberly explained that her father and her grandfather had built the house from a ready-to-assemble house kit they ordered from the Sears Roebuck catalog in the 1930s. Kimberly and Christina had moved into the house after their parents died.

  They were all surprised when they saw the size of the machine. It took up most of the room and left little room for such a large group. The frame and rollers appeared to be about twelve feet long and had an industrial sewing machine attached. Kimberly had already put a quilt on the machine, along with the batting and backing fabric to use as demonstration. She pulled out a stack of patterns and explained how they were used to guide the machine across the fabric.

  Caitlyn spoke up saying, “I know this is a silly question, but what does this machine do?”

  Kimberly ran the machine down one row and showed Caitlyn how it sewed the pieced top, the batting, and the back together. “It’s what people do when they hand quilt. They are just sewing the three layers together. This is just lots faster!”

  Caitlyn examined the pattern and then looked through the other patterns Kimberly had laid out. “I like this one,” she said holding up an intricate floral pattern.

  “That’s exactly the one I was going to suggest we use for Ruth’s quilt! With all the solid colors, this pattern will add interest.” Turning to find Anna, she added, “Anna, is this pattern too fancy?”

  Anna laughed. “Now that’s where the Amish idea of staying plain and simple falls apart. Their quilting is very elaborate. Of course, it’s done by hand, but it’s the place where the Amish women’s artistic skills can be expressed.” Walking over to look at the pattern closely, she added, “I love this one, Caitlyn. I think you chose well. Let’s do this one if everyone agrees.” They passed the pattern around for everyone to see, and they all agreed it was perfect for the quilt. Caitlyn looked pleased.

  “What shall we do with the rest of our meeting?” Sarah asked, realizing they had completed their only agenda item.

  “I brought hand sewing just in case we had time.”

  “Me too,” Delores added as she looked around but didn’t see a place to sit.

  “Let’s go into the living room,” Christina suggested. “I have light snacks in the kitchen and I also thought we would put Ruth’s quilt on the machine and get set up for stitching tomorrow. Would anyone like to watch the process?” Since everyone responded with enthusiasm, they decided that two at a time would stay in the room with the two sisters while the others enjoyed the refreshments and worked on their projects.

  * * * * *

  The next afternoon, Martha drove home smiling as she thought about the success she and her mother had at the shop that day. There’d been a rush of customers in the afternoon, and when she cashed out she discovered that it had been their best Saturday yet. Martha was beginning to look forward to her Saturday’s at the shop. She had become proficient at cutting fabric
and even offered her opinion on color combinations when asked. She especially loved being there with her mother. Every day she learned things about her that she’d been too young to realize in the past. Her mother was engaged in life, something Martha had never learned to do.

  As she turned the corner onto her block, she noticed a black car parked across the street from her house. The car looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she had seen it. As she approached, she could see someone sitting in the driver’s seat, but it was dusk and she couldn’t make out the person’s features. She parked, as usual, in front of her own house and glanced at the car across the street as she was getting out. The driver pulled away from the curb and continued up the street without turning the lights on until reaching the next block. Curious, she thought as she hurried into her house and locked the door.

  After relaxing in a warm bath, Martha took a cursory look in her closet and thumbed through her pantsuits not sure what to wear to Sophie’s party. She didn’t know Sophie very well but was glad she was invited to the party, although somewhat surprised. “I won’t know anyone,” she told her mother earlier that day.

  “You know me,” her mother had responded. “And you know Sophie and Charles, and you’ll recognize some of the women that come into the shop. And you met Andy, didn’t you? Caitlyn’s dad?”

  “Yes, I met Andy briefly. He sounds like a colorful character: a friend, a criminal, a convict, a fugitive, and now a model father.”

  “And a teacher at the prison. Don’t forget that!” Sarah had added. “We all love Andy.”

  Martha hung the pantsuit she had chosen back in the closet and pulled out a red silk dress she had bought several years before for an office party. She smiled as she slipped it on, pleased that it still fit, but when she looked at herself in the mirror she flashed back to that party and the way Derek had looked at her. “Thank you for wearing such a pretty dress,” he had said. At the time, she thought it was a strange thing to say, but in retrospect, she had to wonder if he thought she wore it just for him. The thought sent a shiver up her spine. She started to take the dress off but admonished herself for the thought. He will not control me! she told herself firmly, flashing back to the years she had allowed Greyson to control her.

  She heard Charles and Sarah pulling up outside her house and, seconds later Charles was ringing the doorbell. “You two didn’t need to drive all the way over here to pick me up,” she said as she pulled the door closed behind her. “The party is minutes from your house!”

  “No problem at all, young lady. We were happy to. I’m going to be the designated driver tonight so you girls can kick up your heels and enjoy the party.” Martha again thought about how happy she was that her mother had this kind man in her life.

  “Thanks Charles. I’m in the mood for some heel kicking!”

  When they arrived at the community center, the music was playing and Sophie was stationed at the entrance decked out in her holiday best and wearing her new large frame purple glasses studded with rhinestones. She had purchased a white sequined pantsuit for the cruise the previous fall, but she had decided to save it for the holidays. With Timothy coming, she decided this was the time to bring it out.

  Standing next to Sophie’s chair was a striking man with broad shoulders, a full beard, and a deep tan. He had a rugged, manly look that immediately caught Martha’s attention.

  “Timothy, this is Martha Miller, Sarah’s daughter. Martha, my son, Timothy.” Martha extended her hand and he took it, surprising her with his gentleness.

  “Happy to meet you, Miss Miller?” he responded emphasizing the word Miss in a questioning tone.

  “Yes, it’s Miss, but call me Martha, please,” she replied with a smile.

  “Why don’t you two help yourselves to drinks and hors d’oeuvres? I’ll holler if I have anyone else for you to meet, Timmy. Actually, I think everyone is here now,” Sophie said excitedly, looking around the room. Spotting Sarah, she called out, “Sarah! Come over here with me!”

  Sarah walked over looking feminine in her mauve and brown dress. She hoped it wasn’t too young for her, but she loved the colors. “It’s a wonderful party, Sophie,” she said as she approached her glittering friend. About that time, a three-piece country band started playing, and the young man on the guitar began to sing. The guests had been milling around, and they became quiet and moved toward their tables.

  Sophie noticed with pleasure that Timothy and Martha had taken seats together. Charles joined them and was looking around for Sarah. When he spotted her, she held up two fingers indicating he should hold two more seats. He understood as he always did, and he tilted their three chairs against the table and walked toward Sarah. “When do we eat?” he asked lightly as he approached.

  “How rude!” Sophie responded frowning, but they both knew she was kidding. “Actually, I’m starving too!” she added. “Let’s get this show on the road.” She signaled one of the caterers who was standing nearby and told him to begin serving.

  The evening began to break up around eleven. Most of the guests were in their seventies and weren’t accustomed to late hours. Charles was in the process of gathering up his charges when he noticed Timothy bend over and lightly kiss Martha on the cheek as he was saying goodbye. She responded with a smile and a nod and didn’t seem to mind. “Interesting,” he said aloud.

  “What’s interesting?” Sarah asked.

  “You daughter just got a little peck on the cheek.”

  “Good!” she responded. “She needs a peck on the cheek!”

  As they arrived in front of her house, Martha surreptitiously glanced up and down the block and was pleased to see no extraneous cars. She’d had a good time and was fascinated with this man with so many interesting tales to tell about a part of the country that was foreign to her. He described Alaska as a barren paradise and his descriptions peaked her interest.

  She smiled as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. It had been an interesting evening. Timothy Ward had asked if he could call her, and she said yes. She was surprised with herself.

  Once she reached her bedroom, she flipped on the light and walked over to the window. As she reached to pull down the shade, she saw a movement in the shadows.

  She quickly turned off the light and returned to the window but couldn’t see anything.

  My imagination is working overtime, she assured herself with a smile. She pulled down the shade, turned on the light, and continued with her evening routine.

  Across the street from her house, the glow of a burning cigarette fell to the ground where it burned itself out.

  Chapter 13

  “Mom! Pick up! Mom!” The man’s voice was so distraught Sarah didn’t immediately recognize it as her son, Jason. “Call me on my cell. We’re at the hospital. It’s time!”

  Sarah called Charles, knowing he would want to be with her, and he said he would be right over to pick her up. She then called Martha, but there was no answer. She left a message telling her to come over to City Hospital when she got home. Then she called Sophie.

  “The baby is here?”

  “No, not yet, but Jenny’s in the hospital, and Jason said it’s time, so we’re heading right over.”

  “Should I come?” Sophie asked hesitantly.

  “Why don’t you stay here with Timothy. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.” She then added, “Oh, would you ask Tim to take Barney for a walk in a couple of hours? I’ll leave the key under the mat.”

  “Charles will love that!” Sophie responded sarcastically, knowing how protective he was.

  “We won’t be telling Charles.”

  Nevertheless, Charles got a glimpse of the shiny object under the mat and immediately removed it and frowned. “I thought …” he began, but Sarah interrupted him.

  “I know what you thought, Charles,” Sarah responded impatiently. “You told me not to put the key under the mat, but this is an emergency. Tim needs to use it to take Barney out while we’re gone.”

>   “I’ll run it over to Sophie,” he announced as he hurried across the street without waiting for Sarah’s response. Sarah stood frowning in his direction wondering if they would ever be able to find that comfortable compromise between his over protectiveness and her independence.

  “It’s my key and my house and my decision,” she mumbled as she headed for his car. She quickly opened her own door and got in before he could return and open it for her. He stopped when he reached the car and saw that she was already seated inside. He shook his head and got in.

  “I get the message,” he said as he started the car.

  “Good,” she responded quietly. But the coolness only lasted for a few blocks as the excitement of a new baby in the family warmed their hearts.

  “Do they have a name for her yet?”

  “Yes, but they won’t tell me. Jenny thinks it’s bad luck.” Sarah reached down and pulled her island tote onto her lap. “I brought the Sunbonnet Sue quilt for her,” she said as she pulled it out and ran her fingers over the delicate appliqués. She had started the quilt on the quilting cruise she had taken earlier that fall, and she had completed it just in time for the baby’s arrival.

  When they arrived at the hospital, they were directed to the maternity waiting room where Jason and Martha were both pacing the floor from opposite directions. Jason stopped and walked into his mother’s arms. “I’m so glad you’re here. They haven’t been out to talk to me for over an hour!”

  Jason was small for a man, perhaps around 5-foot-10, and very slim. He had been scrawny as a child and hadn’t filled out much as he matured. He had always been a good eater, but Sarah figured he burned up every calorie he ate. He was always on the go. At forty-one, despite a few gray hairs, he had the look of a much younger man.

  “Why aren’t you with her?” Sarah was surprised to find him in the waiting room. The two had been through all the classes in preparation for a natural delivery, and as the father and her coach, he was supposed to be with her.

  “They took her into surgery,” he responded frantically. “They had to do a cesarean at the last minute.”