Sister's Choice (20 page)

“He’d better not.” She finished straightening her hem. “I’m not taking any man into my bed who’s grieving for another woman. This marriage is for show.”

“Now, you oughtn’t to go into it quite like that.” Sylvie was looking at the floor. “He’s a man, for all he’s grieving poor Anna. One day he’s going to stop and notice what he’s gone and done.”

“I’ll worry about that when the time comes.” Grace threw back her shoulders. “Let’s go, Sylvie. Everybody’s waiting.”

Sylvie, who looked relieved, followed Grace downstairs.

Grace had made few requests when she’d agreed to this marriage, but her one demand had been that the ceremony be held outdoors. The house seemed increasingly oppressive to her. At least when Anna was alive the house was clean, if dreary. Now, with no one to clean it but Ben, cobwebs highlighted the curling wallpaper, and dust balls lurked in dark corners. She had announced that she would not be married within its walls, and she had stood firm. A tight-lipped Ben had agreed they could say their vows out in the orchard, where apples were beginning to form. She just hoped he wouldn’t stray from one row to the other and thin fruit from the branches when he was supposed to be saying “I do.”

Now she walked down the front steps with Sylvie and shaded her eyes to see if the others had started toward the orchard. Her mother appeared from the side of the house, with a sparse bouquet plucked from the smothering flower beds.

“I got what I could,” she said, handing over the bouquet, which she’d tied with a fragment of ribbon. “Not sure what all of them are, but it’s a crying shame they’re all just a-dying out there.”

Grace thought it was a crying shame, too, that Anna had cared so little for the gardens left to her. Then she realized that Anna’s wishes no longer mattered, that soon, the house, the gardens—Anna’s life—would belong to her.

A life she did not want.

“I think you ought to stay here and walk down with Ben,” Mina said. “Sylvie and I’ll go out yonder with the others and wait for you there.”

“Ben?” Grace had been sniffing her bouquet. Now her head snapped up.

“Only fitting. You should walk down there together.”

Grace couldn’t imagine why. But she realized if she couldn’t do that much, couldn’t walk side by side with Ben for seventy yards or so, then there was no sense in going to the orchard at all.

She thought of Sylvie’s words in the bedroom. How much more was she going to be asked to do?

“I’ll wait here. You go on.” She managed a smile. “Thanks for the flowers, Mama.”

“Ben’s in no kind of shape to be thinking of it,” Mina said, as if in apology.

“I know.”

Mina and Sylvie took off, as if they felt their roles in this drama had ended. Afraid she would ruin her dress on the steps, Grace stood in the shade of a black walnut and waited.

Ben appeared at last. She wondered if he had been with his sons, although she doubted that, since they were asleep. Then she wondered if, like her, he’d been wracked with doubt and scrambling for another way, any way, to fix his life. If so, he hadn’t found one. Because Ben was dressed in a suit and ready for the formalities.

Despite everything, she had to admire him. Ben in overalls was one thing, but Ben dressed up, even in a threadbare suit, was a sight. His shoulders were broad enough to strain the dark fabric. The white shirt made his tanned skin glow.

“Mama thought we should walk out together,” Grace said. “Maybe she thinks it will give each of us a chance to bolt, if that’s what we need to do.”

He didn’t smile. She supposed that if she’d ever cared to, she could have numbered the smiles she’d seen on Ben’s face on the petals of a daisy. And those had all been before Anna’s death.

“I’m not going to bolt.” He looked down at the flowers she carried. “Who gave you those?”

“Mama picked them for me.”

“There used to be more.”

“I remember. There were more the last time you got married.”

He looked away, and she realized he hadn’t wanted that reminder.

“This wedding is what Anna wanted,” she said. “If she’s somewhere she can see what’s happening, she’ll be glad.”

“There’s no place like that. She’s gone, and that’s all there is to it.”

She lifted one recently plucked brow. “Is that what you think? Then you’re not doing this for her?”

“I’m doing this because there’s no other way I can see.” He seemed to realize how that must have sounded. “And I’m grateful that you agreed.”

That last sentence was stilted, as if he was reciting a line from a poem memorized in school.

She was curious now. How much of what Anna had believed about her character had really rubbed off on Ben? “You didn’t think I’d go through with this, did you? You thought I’d just abandon you and the children.”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? If I did, then I guess I was wrong.”

“I’m not going to speak ill of my sister, but I am a better person than she led you to believe.”

“Anna was a good wife and a hard worker, and whatever she thought, she was too busy to spend time talking about it.”

She heard what he didn’t add.
The way you’re talking about it right now.

“I’m going to do my best here,” she said. “But just so you understand, I know this won’t be a real marriage. It’s a convenience, a way to help those two little boys up there. I’m not expecting more from you.”

She paused, then forged ahead. “And I don’t want more, Ben. You’d better understand that now, before we take any vows. I’m honoring my promise to Anna. I’m helping Charlie and Adam, but only because there’s no other way. When the time comes those little boys don’t need me anymore, I’m gone. I hope you’re not planning on anything else.”

He studied her a moment, as if she were a fish he had just caught and didn’t know whether to keep or toss back into the muddy waters.

“I’m planning on getting through this day today, and tomorrow’s tomorrow,” he said at last. “I’m planning on thinning my fruit and spraying my trees and listening to Charlie say his bedtime prayers. I’m planning on placing flowers on Anna’s grave every spring, because she was my wife and tried hard to be a good one. And I’m planning to leave you be, if that’s what’s worrying you. You can have that bedroom where you got dressed today. I’ve moved my things in with Charlie, anyway, and closed off the room where Anna died. You won’t be sharing my bed, and you won’t need to share my life, either.”

“I see. I’ll be the hired woman.”

“No, you’ll be Anna’s sister, who’s doing what she can to help out.”

She didn’t know what else she could ask for. She had already told him she didn’t want a real marriage, and he was making it clear he would comply. It all seemed so sad to her, though. That the day that should have been the happiest of her life was the gloomiest.

She had one last thing to settle. “Then, as Anna’s sister, there will be some changes. I’m not Anna. I’m Grace. And I’ll do what needs to be done my way.”

“Just don’t interfere in what doesn’t concern you.”

“And once we’re married what would that be, Ben? Because everything here will concern me as long as I’m living in this house.”

He looked as if he wanted to answer but knew that if he answered honestly, she might change her mind and leave. At last he shrugged.

“Then we understand each other.” Grace gestured toward the orchard. “Shall we go and get this over with?”

He looked as if he dreaded the long walk with her as much as he dreaded the ceremony to come. But he stepped up and offered his arm.

Surprised, she had no choice but to take it. His arm was solid and heavy, and although she was a tall woman and strong herself, she felt oddly insubstantial. So close to Ben, she was aware of the heat from his body against hers and the not unpleasant scent of his skin. She would rather not have noticed either.

They walked that way until they had joined the others, but afterward, after the joyless, perfunctory ceremony when Ben wasn’t even invited to kiss the bride, Grace knew that their walk side by side into the orchard had been the longest, hardest walk either of them would ever be called on to take.

G
race enjoyed attending the Shenandoah Community Church bee. The quilters had quietly rallied around Jamie and Kendra, and they were making a play quilt for the babies, as if this was the most normal pregnancy in the world. Not a negative word had been said, and that immediately endeared the group to Grace, who despite her advanced age would have taken on anyone who engaged in even the slightest sniping at her young friend. As it was, Jamie had enough on her plate.

Of course, Grace herself hadn’t received exactly the same reception. Although most of the group had welcomed her warmly, Helen Henry—as expected—had not. The barbs still flew thick and fast, and although at first Grace found them somewhat humorous, now she was growing annoyed. In her opinion, backbiting was the biggest thing wrong with small towns and country life, the very thing she had hoped to escape when she was young, single and ready to see the world.

Before Ben.

Of course, all that had changed, and although she wouldn’t trade a day of her life for anybody else’s, she still wished that memories in Shenandoah County weren’t so long, and that forgiveness, at least in some quarters, was more the norm than the exception.

Today
she
was the bee’s monthly program, and she was excited about it. She explained her enthusiasm to Jamie, who, in the seventeenth week of her pregnancy and wearing real maternity clothes, was helping her gather demonstration quilts from the van. Hannah was at the elementary school, Alison in preschool until noon. The bee would seem quieter without them.

“I know it probably seems silly to you, dear. But the truth is, home is always the final testing ground. You know what Jesus said about prophets in their home country? Well, the same can be said for quilters. As hard as it is for me to admit, I’m not sure I’ll feel like I’ve arrived as an artist until I’m validated here.”

“That’s hard for me to imagine. But then, I don’t have that kind of connection anywhere.”

“Do you want that kind of connection?” Grace piled more quilts into Jamie’s waiting arms.

“Absolutely. When the girls and I settle in the next time, I want to buy a house and make it their forever home. There’s still time to work on their roots before we work on their wings.”

“I’ve more or less hoped you’d settle here, you know. That you’d fall in love with the Valley and decide to make this your home. Your sister and her family will be living here soon, and there must be opportunities for you, as well. Are we too rural? Too parochial for a girl raised in New York City?”

“Wow, where did that come from?” Jamie closed her arms around her bundle. “Staying here? That’s right out of the blue.”

“I just don’t like to think about losing you.”

“But you’ll see lots of us. You can come and visit, and we’ll be coming back to see Kendra and Isaac—and the twins, of course. I’m not going to let those kids grow up without me. I have a special stake in their lives.”

“So you’re not planning to distance yourself on purpose?”

“At first, sure. Kendra and Isaac don’t need me looking over their shoulders. But after that? Unless I’ve miscalculated badly, I’ll love the babies like an aunt with a head start. And Kendra and Isaac will want us to be close.”

“I’m glad you intend to at least visit.” But Grace realized she didn’t sound properly enthused. She tried harder, even though at her advanced age, she wished she could have all the people she loved close by. “I really am.”

“I love this area,” Jamie said. “But is it the right place for a single mother with a career?”

Personally, Grace hoped Jamie wouldn’t stay a single mother very long, and she knew the ideal candidate to make certain of it. But she knew talking about that would be too forward. Pushing Cash at Jamie was a surefire guarantee the two would never figure out how perfect they were for each other. To her knowledge, the Labor Day dance was the last time they had gone out together. And that had been almost three weeks ago.

She answered as best she could. “Only you can decide if the Valley’s right for you, of course. But it’s a good place to raise children, if you keep them busy enough.” Grace retrieved the last of her quilts and closed the car door. “Okay, let’s beard the lions in their den.”

“You don’t have a thing to worry about. Everybody’s thrilled you’re doing this.” Jamie paused. “Almost everybody.”

“I’m hoping Helen stays home in protest.”

“Cissy said Helen wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll need body armor.”

“She’s not that bad.”

“I suspect I’m the only one who recognizes all her stray bullets for what they are.”

“She’s been awfully nice to me. She seems good-hearted under that crusty exterior. I can’t help thinking the two of you would be great friends if you could ever get past whatever it is.”

“There’s more chance of peace in the Middle East, dear.”

“Seems to me there’s a chance for that, as well, if people would just listen to each other and see how much they actually have in common. It’s really pretty simple.”

Grace tried not to sigh over youthful innocence. “Please
don’t
consider a career as a diplomat. Besides, it would take you farther from us, and we can’t have that.”

They were at the door now, and when Jamie opened it, a group of women scurried over to relieve them of their burdens.

Grace chatted with the attendees. There were more than normal, almost two dozen. Regulars had brought friends, and some members of a guild from Winchester introduced themselves and told her they’d heard about the talk at their last meeting. Cathy, the president, called everyone to order, and after a reasonable amount of time, people found seats and the business meeting began.

Grace settled next to Jamie. Helen hadn’t arrived, so she was hoping for the best. Halfway through the treasurer’s report—there was money enough to buy batting and backing for the bee’s Christmas quilt, plus some to replace the slide in the children’s playground—Helen walked in with Cissy Claiborne.

The only two empty seats were directly across from Grace and Jamie. Grace was careful not to roll her aging eyes, although the impulse was nearly overwhelming.

“And that concludes my report.” Dovey Lanning, Grace’s age and given to wearing her white hair in a bun as tight as her pursed lips, looked up from her papers. “I’m glad to tell you things are fine, and even gladder that I get to keep the books now and don’t have to take notes at these meetings anymore. I’m planning to run off with the bee’s money if we ever get enough.”

“Anybody have questions?” Cathy asked.

“Not a question,” Helen said, settling herself across from Grace. “But I’ve got an idea for that Christmas quilt. We need to get started right away, you know, now that the bear’s paw is all done. These things take some time.”

“We’ll make that new business and take it up then.”

Despite interruptions, Cathy went through the rest of the business quickly, which Grace admired, having once been the president of a similar organization. Then, when she got to old business, Cissy Claiborne raised her hand.

“I know Ms. Henry won’t tell you herself, but just so everybody knows, she entered her Delilah’s Dream quilt in the Houston International Quilt Festival competition, and she’s a finalist. So her quilt’s going to be there, and Ms. Henry and Mrs. Whitlock—you all know that’s her daughter—are going to go and see the show.”

Everybody applauded, Grace among them.

“And she’s known for a while now, and wouldn’t tell a soul if I didn’t tell you for her,” Cissy added.

“We’re all so proud of you, Helen,” Cathy said. “Delilah’s Dream
is
a dream of a quilt, that’s for sure.”

“Just so everybody knows, it was my daughter entered that quilt. Not me. Nancy’s always put on airs.”

“I think Nancy just wants your talent to be shared,” Cathy said. “And she’s right. Somebody here would have done it eventually if she didn’t.”

Helen looked embarrassed but pleased, although Grace could see she was trying not to. This was an accomplishment to be proud of, since the competition was unbelievably stiff. Had Helen been one iota nicer to Grace at any of the meetings, Grace would have been thrilled for her.

They progressed to new business, and Cathy turned to Helen again.

“Would you like to tell us your idea?” She looked out at the group. “Of course, not all of you know what we’re talking about, do you? We make a Christmas quilt every year and raffle it off before the holidays. Then whoever is lucky enough to win it can keep it or give it as a gift to somebody they love. It always makes a lot of money for the church.”

“My idea,” Helen said, “is to make a traditional red-and-green appliqué, maybe a coxcomb or something similar. Not too big, because we don’t have that much time if we’re going to put it in the frame and quilt it. But the colors would be right, and anybody with any taste at all would like it. Those who can appliqué could each do a block.”

Nobody spoke, although Cathy gave them time. “So are we in agreement? Or does anybody else have an idea?”

“I did see a fun Advent quilt at a guild meeting in California,” Grace said. “It’s fun, because everybody has a chance to be creative. Each member makes a small pieced or appliquéd stocking of their own design. Maybe even a couple for a group this small, since we’d need a total of twenty-five to make this work. Each stocking can be a unique pattern but needs to be the same general size. Then we piece a simple background with five blocks up and down, add bright borders and sashing and attach the stockings with snaps or Velcro, one in each block. No fancy quilting needed, just some machine work. Parents can put little gifts in each one for their children, or wives for husbands, or if somebody is having lots of Christmas company, cute little toile-tries for guests. It can be used for years and years in different ways.”

“That sounds like fun,” Cathy said. “Everybody has too much Christmas fabric. That would be a great way to use it.”

A couple of other people agreed. Somebody volunteered to pass around a tablet for people to sign up to make one or more stockings. Grace agreed to draw up a pattern so they would all be the same size.

“So we’re agreed. If enough people agree to make stockings, this is what we’ll do?” Cathy asked.

They voted yes. Helen didn’t vote at all, Grace noted. She told herself she wasn’t gloating, then felt bad that “gloating” had even entered her head. She hadn’t set out to thwart Helen, but since her return, Helen had been so openly hostile about Grace’s own talent, it was nice to feel her idea had been vindicated.

With no further business, Cathy introduced Grace, then turned the program over to her. She stood and greeted everybody. The group looked eager to hear what she had to say. Then she glanced at Helen, whose eyes were narrowed. Some of the pleasure of showing her quilts drifted away. She remembered a slogan from the 1960s, when she had been a peacenik in a state devoted—at least for a time—to sending its native sons to Vietnam.

What if they gave a war and nobody came?

It was a slogan she vowed to remember when Helen Henry was in the same room.

“You wowed them, Grace. Don’t think you didn’t. And they asked you to teach a class, too.”

Jamie turned into the cabin’s driveway. She had insisted on bringing Grace home for lunch as a celebration, and had gotten up early to wash greens and chop vegetables to make a Greek salad to go with Alison’s specialty, peanut butter sandwiches. There was a half gallon of cold fruit tea, and a peach cobbler made with local fruit.

“I shouldn’t have pushed my idea for the Advent quilt. Now Helen will never forgive me.”

“Grace, you suggested. You didn’t push. They were just ready to try something a little different. Both ideas were great.”

“Maybe diplomacy wouldn’t be such a bad choice for a career for you after all, dear.”

Jamie grinned, braked and, when the minivan shuddered to a halt, turned off the engine.

“Aunt Kendra’s here,” Alison said.

Jamie hadn’t noticed the Lexus, because her sister’s SUV was tucked into a space between a Rosslyn and Rosslyn pickup and one of the workers’ old jalopies.

“She said she and Uncle Isaac were coming up sometime this week to check on things. I guess that’s why they’re here. Luckily we have lots for lunch.”

While Grace disembarked, Jamie helped Alison out of her seat, then looked around for her sister and brother-in-law, and spied them talking to Cash. Her heart did the tiniest jig. Cash seemed to be around more lately, as if this project had suddenly assumed even greater importance. They hadn’t gone out again, but sometimes he stopped by the cabin after work to sit on the porch with her girls and listen to them talk about their days at their new schools. He’d stayed for dinner once, and once he’d bundled all of them into his pickup to go out and buy ice cream for sloppy, decadent, child-pleasing sundaes. She wondered if he planned these darting forays into her life, or if the impulse just overcame him occasionally.

“Alison is going to show me how to make her special sandwich,” Grace said. “I believe we’ll go on ahead. You come and join us when you’re ready.”

Jamie picked her way through rubble, around machinery and along the edge of the foundation. The house was framed in now. The workers were moving quicker than she’d expected, although anything could happen along the way to throw a kink into their schedule. Too much rain, delayed deliveries, immediate action needed on another project. For the most part, though, she was encouraged. And every evening, when she walked over to take stock of the work done and visualize the finished project, she was prouder and prouder.

“Hey, sis, Isaac…” She kissed Isaac’s cheek and gave Kendra a one-armed hug. “Can you stay for lunch? We have plenty.”

“I brought Indian food from my favorite restaurant. Lots of it, so you’ll have enough for dinner, too.”

Jamie’s mouth watered. She turned to Cash. “Will you have lunch with us? Your grandmother’s here.”

“If I’m not in the way.”

She smiled at him, he smiled at her, and for a moment nobody said anything.

“Well,” she said at last, her gaze still locked with his, “I was probably interrupting. I’ll let you finish…” Suddenly she felt just the slightest flutter inside her. For a moment she thought she was imagining it. She’d felt the same thing last night as she was going to sleep, but before she could give it any credence, it had stopped. Now she waited for a repeat. She wasn’t disappointed.