The Healing Quilt (30 page)

She could feel her lower lip begin to quiver and the tears stinging the backs of her
eyes.
Blast the man, why couldn't he be the ogre she made him out to be?

She took her hand back and strode over to the wing-back chair, perching on the edge and strangling her small purse on her knees. Tell him. Let him have it!

“So how has your week been? Did the prescription I ordered for you help?”

“I felt better as soon as I got some sleep for a change.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I must tell you that I am here only because my husband forced me to come.”

“Forced you?”

“Would you prefer blackmailed me?”

“Not really, I'd prefer you came because you believed I could help you.”

Her snort told him what she thought ofthat idea. “I'd rather just take pills if I must and not come here.”

“Ah, but you see, I have you there. I am the one who dispenses the pills.”

“Then I'll quit taking them, too.”
And go back to where you were?
The voice seemed to be sitting on her right shoulder. She waited a moment for the one on her left to chime in.

“Garth called me, frantic because he said you were injuring yourself.” The words fell like a leaf to the surface of a pond, but even light as the leaf lay, ripples spread in circles across the silent face of the water.

“I… I don't remember that.” She could see again the hair lying on her pillow and more brushed out the next time she combed her hair. Her scalp had ached for several days.

“But do you now believe it happened?”

She nodded, her hair falling forward to provide a veil on the sides of her face. “Garth never lies.”

“I see.” He waited, sitting back in his chair as if he had all the time in the world.

A tear dripped down on her ravaging thumb.

He handed her the tissue box. “Beth, what are you angry at?”

She shook her head.
Me, it's myself that did it all.
The words careened around her mind like a hard-driven racquet ball against the walls of the court.

“What are you afraid of?”

Funny, that's what someone else asked too. But I know my fear—
Garth will find out, and that will be the end of our marriage.
“That I will never have a baby to hold and love.” She whispered and shook her head, her hair veil swaying from side to side. She tried to bury herself in the arms of the chair. I see.

What do you see? I've told you so little.

“You know that anything you say here will never go beyond the walls of this room without your permission? This is a safe place, Beth. Whatever has gone on in your life can be brought out here, talked about and forgiven. The medication I gave you is only a stopgap to help you sleep and be able to
g^ssess
things more realistically.”

He stopped and waited again. She could feel his gaze, gentle on the top of her head. The fish tank gurgled in the corner, and the birds sang on the feeders in the courtyard.

But tears are silent drops of pain.

“I… I can't.” Her whisper carried the years of guilt, of horror, of despair.

She blew her nose and wiped her eyes, clenching the tissue in her fist.
Thirsty, I'm so thirsty.

“Tell me about your childhood. Where did you live, who are the members of your family?”

“Uh…” She fought to bring her mind back to the present question. “My mom and dad and my brother and sister and I lived in Cot-tonwood, Arizona, until I was about ten, when we moved to Phoenix.”

“Did you like Phoenix?”

She halfway shrugged. “It was all right, after a while at least. But my mom went to work too, and I hated to come home to an empty house.”

“Is your brother older or younger?”

“Three years younger. He played baseball every chance he got, so he spent a lot of time at the ball fields.”

“What about your sister?”

“She thought she knew best for everything.”

“And you, what did you like to do?”

“Oh, read and sew, watch TV. I usually got straight As. I learned to cook after that so Mom wouldn't have to when she got home. My sister was always off somewhere. I loved music, so they got me a piano.”

“You took lessons?”

“Some, but I picked out a lot on my own.” She wiped her nose again. “I play a lot by ear.”

“What do you like to do now?”

“Read, sew, decorate our house…We don't have a piano so…so I play at the guitar sometimes. I usually like to entertain but…”
But I can't invite people over now. I dont know anyone and I just dont have the energy.

“This move was hard on you.”

“I had to leave my baby behind.”

“The one that died prematurely?”

“Yes.”
And the other one, too, but I left that one a long time ago.

“Depression isn't unusual after losing a baby.”

“But I should just get over it and get on with my life, right?” The venom in her voice shocked even her.

“I didn't say that.”

“No, but you…”

“But I what?”

“Nothing.”

“Have you kept a journal?”

“No, I started a baby book but…” She shook her head again, then tucked the right side of her hair behind her ear. “I didnt have any more to add, so I put it away.”

“I suggest you start a journal for yourself this time and just write down whatever comes to you. You might be amazed at what you learn. Will you do that?”

“I'll see.”

“Does that mean you'll think about it or you're just brushing me off?”

She could feel a smile tug gently at the corner of her mouth. “I'll think about it.”

“Good.” He pulled out the side drawer of his desk and laid his prescription pad on it. After writing on it, he passed it over to her. “I'd like you to continue taking these for the next week, one half an hour or so before bedtime, as you've been doing. And then come back so we can talk some more. If you will.”

Beth stared at the birds outside. “All right.” She took the paper and stood. “Thank you.”
I guess.

“I have something else for you.” He handed her a card from a little basket on his desk. Business card size, it looked rather innocuous.

Beth glanced from the printing on it to his face.

“It's a verse I use to get me through things that seem beyond my ability. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.’ ”

She started to shake her head but put the card in her pocket. If he only knew what she had to get through.

Who would be calling this early? Elaine
reached for the phone. “Hello.”

“Good morning, Elaine. I needed to reach you before I went into court.”

“Good morning to you, too. I have a feeling this is not good news.” Since when did attorneys call early or late without it being bad news?

“This is more in the way of a pain in the neck.

“Ah, delightfol Mrs. Smyth.”

“You got it. As you know, she went ahead with her threat and filed a case. Her regular lawyer turned it down, but she found someone else who is pursuing this like it was his ticket to the big time.”

“And your advice?”
Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?

“I'd say settle and get her off your back but.

Elaine didn't hear the
but.
“Settle? No way! That woman won't be satisfied until she owns our house, Georges practice, and our retirement.”

“Elaine, calm down.” His chuckle broke through her diatribe. “I know what she is after, and people like her keep many lawyers in business.”

“Along with cluttering up our court system.”

“That too, but here's what I propose we do. Her insurance covered the damages, and yours declined that, right?”

“Yes. They think she's full of hot air, too. I've thought of buying her out, but that place would need some major work to make it saleable, and she'd charge me an arm and both legs.”

“Might not be a bad idea, considering the stress she adds to your life, but that's not what I was going to say. I'm suggesting either mediation or binding arbitration. Either way, she has to accept the ruling. I'm sure they will see right through her verbosity and can'tankerous-ness. Or there is always Judge Judy. She loves stuff like this. You talk it over with George and get back to me.”

Elaine hung up the phone still chuckling.
Wait until George and Ramsey hear this one.

She looked down at the little dog on her lap. “Maybe I should just sic you after that mangy beast of hers. Think you could take a chunk out of Bootsie?” She cuddled Bug to her chest and kissed his soft ears, crooning love to him at the same time.

Doodlebug kissed her ear and closed his big eyes in bliss. This was the way a morning was supposed to be spent. After all, what was more important in life's scheme of things than cuddling the dog? Keeping him from slipping off her lap with one hand, she pulled out the file drawer and retrieved her work on the grant proposal and her outline for the dream. She checked her watch. An hour and a half until the board meeting, then the regular meeting following the lunch. Getting the guild board behind her would be the first step.

“Sorry, Bug, but you need to go get in your bed.” She set him on the floor and tried to ignore the sorrow in his eyes, the look of abused dog he assumed at will, tail dragging, ears down. She'd swear he was going to cry big tears at any second.

“Good dog.”

He slunk up in his new bed with the arched half cover and lined with half of his favorite soft blanket. Turning around once, he gave her another soulful look, this one accompanied by a deep and heart-wrenchingly sad sigh.

“Doodlebug, you are the biggest ham I've ever seen.” She shook her head and started reading, making notes on a clipboard as she went along. She knew one reason she'd managed to obtain so many grants over the years. She made sure all the details were covered. Research and details; money was out there if one knew how to go find it.

Finding the money in Jefferson City would be the job of those in the guild. They knew who had deep pockets and could figure out how to convince those folks to part with some of their largess.

Winston Henry Jefferson IV was at the top of her list. If she could convince him that her dream was his dream…hmm. She flipped through her Rolodex, stopped at his business card, read it, thought a moment, and dialed.

“Hello, this is Elaine Giovanni and I'd like to speak to Mr. Jefferson please.”

“Ill see if he's available.”

You bet your sweet Marianne he is.
There were advantages sometimes in being the wife of the head of surgery. While she didn't call in her markers very often, when she did they were effective.

“Good morning, Elaine. How are you?”

“Good, good. I have a favor to ask if you don't mind.”

“Ask away and I'll do what I can.”

She could picture him leaning back in his cordovan leather chair, his feet up on the walnut desk that had belonged to his great-grandfather, like most of the other lovely antiques in his office and home.

“Are you available for lunch tomorrow, or another day this week? I have some ideas that I think you might be interested in.”

“Tomorrow would be fine if we could make it at one.”

“Good, how about Joseph's?”

“My favorite. I'll see you then.”

I knew it was your favorite. You'Vesaidso often enough.
“Thank you.”

She hung up and wrote herself a note in her organizer. George was after her to use a Palm Pilot or handheld PC, but she held out on that.

She quickly typed an outline for the board meeting, ran off ten copies, and put them in a file folder that joined the file folders already in her briefcase.

“Ladies, can we come to order?” She waited in the conference room, looking around the board table at the hospital. “And please have your reports ready. We need to deal with plenty of business today.”

The chatter settled down, along with the shuffling of paper.

“Good. I call the August meeting of the Jefferson City Hospital Guild board meeting to order. Will you please read the minutes of the last meeting?” She nodded to the secretary.

One by one she ticked down the items on her outline. Treasurers report, committee reports, and old business, in which they wrapped up details related to the isolettes and the festival booth. When she announced new business, a hand went up.