The Healing Quilt (4 page)

Beth could still hear his gentle voice.
You'll have other children, Beth. I know that doesnt make up for this one, but time will heal the wound.

She'd gone to the funeral, using the tranquilizers he'd prescribed.

Beth wiped her eyes on the pillowcase and reached for a tissue to blow her nose.

“God will give us another child when he feels the time is right.”

Her husband's words tickled the hair on her neck. He meant to comfort, she knew that, but for her there could be no comfort.
Oh, Garth…if… if only I could tell you.

But she said no more. His even breathing told her he'd slipped back into sleep.

Beth slid out from under his arm and headed for the bathroom, where she could cry in secret. Perhaps a shower would help.

She let the hot water beat down on her back and shoulders and rinse the tension away.

The baby would have made all the difference. “God,” she whispered into the steam. “You know how much I want a baby. I would be a good mother, and you know Garth would be the best daddy anywhere. We both love little kids. Couldn't you trust me, please?”

She pulled a clean nightgown out of the drawer and, after slipping it over her head, slid back under the covers.

Garth slept on. She glanced at the clock. She could get another two hours sleep before the alarm went off. If the nightmares didn't return.

Sometime later Garth sat down beside her on the bed. “Honey, why don't you stay in bed? I can catch breakfast at McDonald's.”

Beth brushed strands of mahogany hair from her eyes. “I… I'm sorry. I didn't hear you get up.” She pushed back the covers to rise, but he was in the way.

“No, with circles like that under your
eyes
, someone will think I've been beating you.” His smile said he was kidding.

Oh, Garth, you are such a fine man. You deserve so much better.
But instead of saying the words, she reached up to stroke his freshly shaven cheek. She sniffed, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You smell good.”

“Thanks.” He took her hand and kissed her palm, curling her fingers over and kissing them. He leaned over to nuzzle her neck. “If you like, I could leave a bit late.” He nibbled the lobe of her ear.

Beth loved the curl of heat in her middle, the way he kissed her. She clasped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

The ringing of the telephone made him lift his head and glare at the intrusive instrument. “If that's someone selling something.

Beth giggled as he reached for the receiver. He winked at her. “Just stay the way you are,” he mouthed. “Hello, Pastor Garth here.”

He sat straighten “Sorry, John, let me go to the other phone.”

Beth watched him leave the room without looking back. As soon as she heard his voice on the phone, she hung it up and rolled over again, one hand tucked beneath her chin.

She studied the gray clouds scudding past the bedroom window. So many gray days here in western Washington. Would she ever get used to the gray? She, an Arizona girl who thrived on sunshine, loved the green of Washington state, until the rains came and came. She could hear Garths voice but not the words.

Feeling the urge, she tossed back the covers and headed for the bathroom. If she hurried she could get her teeth brushed, apply a spritz of scent that he loved, and be back in bed for him.

One look at her swollen eyes and rat's nest hair killed her desire.

She went back to bed and curled up under the covers. Although she tried to hold them back, the tears escaped, drenching her neck and the pillow.

Worthless, you can't do anything right.
The silent words added to the freshet.

“Sorry, honey, I have to leave.” He crossed the room and leaned over her to drop a kiss on her forehead. “Sleep for a while and perhaps you'll feel better.”

She nodded, holding in a sniff until he turned away. “God bless.” When she heard the door close, she pulled the covers up over her shoulders. Why not stay in bed? There was no one who needed her, no one who would call or drop by. Even though the women of the congregation greeted her warmly on Sundays, she'd not been invited to much. When she'd mentioned the lack of social get-togethers, Garth had reassured her that they were giving her time to settle in. He hadn't needed to suggest she should make the first move. She'd declined an invitation to a baby shower without telling him. Baby showers were just too hard for her to handle.

Her conscience screamed it at her every chance it got. After all, when she agreed to be a pastor's wife, she knew the expectations that would be placed on her.

With one more glance at the gray outdoors, Beth pulled the covers over her head and drifted back into oblivion.

The ringing phone pulled her back to reality. She swallowed to clear her throat as she reached for the receiver. “Good morning, Donnelly residence.” She knew she'd failed again. She sounded as if she just woke up.

“Ms. Donnelly, how are you today?” a cheery male voice asked.

“Fine. Who is this?” She knew before she asked. A telemarketer. She pushed herself up on the pillows, glancing at the clock at the same time. Well, at least most of another morning had passed. She politely declined a credit card offer and hung up. Staggering into the kitchen, pushing the hair out of her eyes, she dove for the coffeepot, the red eye winking at her. By now the coffee would be pure sludge, but the extra caffeine was probably just what she needed.

She took her full mug to the table and sank into a chair, resting her elbows on the open paper. A headline caught her eye. “High Incidences of Breast Cancer in County.” Beth continued to read:

“Recent studies have shown that women in Jefferson County have a higher rate of breast cancer than other regions of the nation. Not only is the rate of diagnosis higher, but more cases are terminal, according to studies done by the University of Washington.

“Our studies raise serious questions for the residents of Jefferson County,” said Dr. Adam Ramirez, head of the oncology unit. “While high voltage power lines transverse the county, various studies show that this may be a contributing factor, but there is no solid proof at this time.”

When asked about cancer clusters, Dr. Ramirez refused to comment.

Further investigation is promised by Dr. Jason Heath, head of the State Health Commission. “We promise to get to the bottom of this,” said Kyle Winthrop, elected representative assigned to the commission. “As far as I understand it, women must be encouraged to seek annual mammograms to detect this culprit in the early stages when treatment is more effective.”

Breast cancer strikes one in eight women, mostly over the age of forty. The first line of defense is regular self-examination and yearly mammograms for those over the age of forty or who have a history of breast cancer in their family.

When caught in time, this cancer is amenable to treatment and should no longer cast a death sentence on the patients. The American Cancer Society has materials available by contacting the local chapter.

After finishing the article Beth was grateful she'd had her mammogram before they moved. After all, with her family history of breast cancer, she was taking no chances.

Beth sipped her cream-laced coffee and thought about the article. Why would this area have a higher rate than any other? And what was being done about it?

The calendar never lies.

“Oh, my gosh, her mammogram is today.” Kit charged up the stairs and down the hall to change her clothes. If she really hustled, they could still make it, though why Teza couldn't take herself to her appointment was beyond Kits comprehension. Teza got herself to everything else.

She needed clean pants. Mud from kneeling to weed the iris bed caked her jeans. She stopped with that and grabbed the phone to dial Teza's number. Four rings and the answering machine clicked in. Phone clamped to her shoulder, Kit waited through the message and slipped her feet into a pair of sandals. “Teza, Fm on my way. In case you've forgotten, your mammogram is today. Please be ready and we can still make it.”

Kit grabbed a blue shirt off a hanger and stuffed her arms in, buttoning it as she descended the stairs. She paused long enough at the mirror to pull her hair back into a club at the base of her neck, smoothing errant strands several times before digging a coated rubber band out of her pocket and wrapping it three times around the club, pulling her hair carefully through each time. She'd apply lipstick as she drove, normal modus operandi. She loved the sound of words like modus operandi, and while she usually saw it in the murder mysteries she read, it certainly applied today.

She wheeled into the pink hawthorn-lined lane to the Bit of Heaven Farm. The lane ran past the house and yard on the left and back to the red hip-roofed barn that now housed the fruit stand. The sight of Teza still out in the strawberry patch made Kit beep the horn.

Stubborn didn't begin to describe Aunt Teza.

Kit sucked in a deep breath, counted to ten, and reminded her fingernails that they weren't to be doing imprint surgery on her palms. Keeping a smile of sorts on a mouth that wanted to scream, she started again and counted to twenty, nodded, and deliberately released each finger. When her last pinkie hung limp, she started again.

“But I made that appointment for you today since you said that was the only time you had.”

“I'm sorry, dear, but something came up.”

“Something came up—like weeds or too many ripe strawberries?”

“Oh no. Vinnie Lambert needed to go visit her mother in the hospital, and her car wouldn't start.” Aunt Teza looked up from the row of strawberries that were indeed in need of picking. The patch spread around their feet in dense rows of deep green leaves hiding their fruit from those who would snatch them away, be they birds or humans. The sweet fragrance of strawberries and rich dirt warmed by a welcome June sun rose as palpable as the frustration coloring Kit's rejoinder.

She leaned over and began picking, knowing she and Teza always were able to talk more freely when their hands were busy. “And?”

“And so I took her in. Her mother doesn't have long to live, you know.” Teza sat back on her heels, the knees of her jeans wearing traces of the mulch she spread between the rows. “It about breaks your heart, watching someone you love die bit by bit like that, even though you know that one day you will be back together again.” She shook her head and returned to picking. Teza's fingers had a will of their own, sorting through the dark green leaves in search of succulent fruit while she glanced up from under the wide brim of her straw hat. “You'd have done the same.”

Kit knew she'd been nailed again. There was really no sense arguing. She never won. “Don't you ever listen to your messages?”

“I haven't been back up to the house.” Berries continued to fill Teza's crate at a speed to be revered by most other berry pickers.