The Healing Quilt (44 page)

“You don't want anything to do with him?” Beth put her basket on the wicker table and took one of the chairs.

“Not especially, although that is changing now too. Sometimes it is just too much and I give up.”

“Pardon me for being nosey, but does this have something to do with Amber?”

“Yes.”

“I know. I felt that way after our baby died. I thought sure God was punishing me for something.”

A pause while Kit sat down in the glider. The creak of the hardware as she moved it with her foot sounded friendly, as if joining in on the conversation. “Strange, I wonder why mothers think that? I've spoken with other women who thought that too. Janey, Sue's daughter, is a nurse. She once told me that babies who die in utero have something wrong with them, and this was nature's way of dealing with such a situation. She said to think about how that baby goes right back home to heaven without having to live all these hard years on earth.”

“I like that thought. My son would have been ten months old now. Seeing other mothers with babies has been so difficult. And now my best friend is pregnant, and I could hardly congratulate her.” Beth wadded her skirt up in her fist. “What a creep I am.”

“No, not a creep. I understand how you feel. For us, weddings are the pits. We won't get to see Amber married, enjoy her children. You just feel ripped off at times.”

Beth took Kits hand. “Ripped off is right. You know I'm working with Dr. Kaplan. He suggested I write a letter to my unborn son and tell him how I feel, how I felt, what I dreamed for him, that now will never be.”

“Interesting. The one I'd write to is God and really tell him what I think.”

“So what's wrong with that? I heard Garth say one day, ‘God has broad shoulders. If he is indeed God, he can take what we dish out.’ ” Beth leaned forward. “Perhaps one to Amber, too.”

“Thanks, Beth. I'll think about it.” Kit stood and picked up the basket. “We better get these roses in water.

“And to the quilt.” Beth stood. “Thank you. You are so easy to talk with.”

“And you. How about lemonade, iced tea, or iced coffee?”

“Lemonade and a needle and thread to go.”

“Someone's been sitting in my chair.” Elaine set her bag on the floor on Monday morning.

“It wasn't me, that's for sure.” Teza leaned back in the recliner. “I'll tell you, my own bed felt so good last night.”

“I thought you were going to stay here.”

“I was, but when I grumbled about how bad I wanted my own bed, Ryan came out and stayed with me. Not that he had anything to do other than sleep. I went to bed and never heard another thing until the robins were singing so loud I had to get up.”

“You feel up to quilting?”

“Better than lying around.” Teza leaned over. “I nearly finished this square before the medicine reacted.” She held out the square with three red cherries and their leaves appliquéd in place, the stems embroidered along with a highlight in white on each cherry. “Three for the trinity, and now I need to find a verse that applies.”

“Its going to be beautiful.” Elaine handed it back.

“If you see any fruit fabric, pick me up a yard or so, would you, please? I'd like the blocks to be as many different patterns as possible.”

“I most certainly will. Say, Teza, you don't have any old Hardanger do you? Or bits and pieces? I saw a piece worked on a pillow along with ribbon embroidery and some beadwork. Incredibly beautiful.”

“I might have some pieces I've done or started and not gone on with. I'll see.”

“I thought of asking at the Sons of Norway lodges in Tacoma and Olympia.”

“That might be a good resource. Have you ever done Hardanger?”

Elaine shook her head. “No, I don't have the patience.”

“All you have to do is count threads and stitches in fours and fives on even weave fabric.”

“No, you don't get those little wrapped bars and open patterns with just counting threads in fours and fives. Besides, it is tone on tone and, therefore, harder to see. “ Elaine looked over her shoulder at the quilt frame. “I better get to work. I can see I am behind some of the others.”

“That's why someone was sitting in your chair.” Kit handed Elaine a cup of coffee. “Helping you catch up.”

“Is Sue coming?”

“Not today. She's taking Kelly school shopping, and if I know her, she'll see the prices, have a fit, go to Myrna's, buy the fabric, and spend the next three days sewing for Kelly. Elsie Mae can take her place.” Kit rolled her shoulders first forward, then back. “Teza, how you feeling?”

“Like I should be out at the farm picking cucumbers. And I'm sure the beans are ready for the last picking.”

“Now, you know Ryan is doing just that. He and Vinnie will do fine.”

“I know, but I miss being out there.” Teza pushed the recliner upright and came over to take a chair by the quilting frame. “At least if I'm working on this, I'm accomplishing something.”

Ah, dear Teza, you dorit have to work all the time.
Kit wished she could tie her aunt in the chair and force her to rest.

“Actually when you're lying back in the recliner, you're accomplishing something far more important.” Elaine took her thimble out of her sewing kit and smiled at Teza as she put it on.

“Like what?”

“Like letting your body heal. George says most people don't realize how much energy healing takes. Building new cells is hard work, and so you tire easily. The more you fight it, the longer it takes to become well again.”

“Interesting you should say that,” Teza said. “A nurse yesterday told me much the same about taking pain medications when needed. She said fighting pain uses energy, too, and then it slows down the healing. This morning I was reading, and the verse ‘come unto me all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest’ just leaped out at me. I imagine God was trying to tell me something, and then this discussion comes up. Isn't God amazing.”

“You know, I found something really interesting in the research I was reading for Teza last night,” Kit said. “Studies are showing that women who have had an abortion are anywhere from 50 to 100 percent more likely to develop breast cancer later in life. Something to do with differentiated and undifferentiated cells.” Kit glanced up in time to see Beth surge to her feet, her chair falling backward. “Beth, what…?”

“I have to go.” Beth grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

“Sorry I'm late.” Just coming in through the door, Elsie Mae blocked her way.

“I have to go.” Beth tried sidestepping, but Elsie Mae dropped her bag and grabbed Beth by the shoulders. “Whoa now, child. You can't leave all upset like this.”

“I have to go!” Beth tried wrenching away but instead collapsed sobbing into the older woman's comforting arms.

“Easy, baby, you come to the right place, here next to my heart.” Elsie Mae looked over Beth's shoulder, question marks flickering across her face.

Elaine and Kit looked at each other and thought the same thing at the same moment.
Abortion?
Elaine mouthed. Kit nodded.
The other times Beth ran. Did we bring up this subject then?
The memory wasn't clear.
You poor child. Dear God, how do we help her?

Elsie Mae walked the sobbing young woman over to the sofa and sat down, arm still around Beth's shoulders.

“I… I… I'm so sorry. I didn't know.” Tears and sobs broke Beth's words into near unintelligible gibberish.

“And all these years you've carried this?” Elsie Mae stroked Beth's hair and laid her cheek against the wavy mass.

Kit brought a box of tissue from the bathroom and set it on the coffee table where Beth could reach it. She glanced up at Teza to see her eyes closed and lips moving in prayer.
Good, Teza, you pray, I wish I could. Ask and it shall be given you. But it wasnt then, so why would it be now?

So ask now.

I can't.
Kit laid a hand on Beth's shoulder and sat down in the easy chair.
What to say?

“How old were you, darlin ?” Elsie Mae asked as she handed Beth a tissue.

“S-Sixteen. My b-boyfriend said I had to, and he p-paid for it. They said it wasn't even a baby yet, that I was doing what was best for me and…and him. I was so stupid! I never told anyone. They said to just forget it. I never dated again—until Garth.” She mopped her eyes and blew her nose.

“Does Garth know?” Kit hated to ask the question.

Beth shook her head. Her hair now curly from the moisture, clinging to her cheeks. “No one ever knew. I thought about it once in a while, but then I'd stuff it back down and pretend it didn't happen. Until my baby died, and now I can't get pregnant. I know God is punishing me, and if I tell Garth, he will hate me.” She clasped her arms around her knees and laid her cheek on her skirt. “Now I know so much more, and God forgive me, I murdered my baby.”

“God does forgive. Did you ask him to?” Elsie Mae rested a hand on Beth's curved back.

“Yes. Oh, how many times I have begged him to forgive me.”

“If we confess our sins, God is gracious to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Do you believe that?” Teza spoke so gently the words floated like dandelion down, kissing a brow here and a cheek there.

Beth nodded and used the tissue on her eyes again.

“Then you are forgiven. But you have to forgive yourself, too. Think on the Lords prayer. ‘Forgive us as we have forgiven others.’ That includes ourselves.”

“See, darlin’, God don't want you carryin’ this around anymore. You got to let it go, and when Satan starts to tell you how bad you are and God doesn't forgive you, you throw those scriptures right back in his face.”

“But what if I never have a baby again?”

“That's possible, but maybe you had to let this go first. Give it to God…”

“You could write him a letter.” Kit caught Beth's gaze and smiled.

“So I'm forgiven, just like that?” Beth sighed.

“That's why Jesus died, so we can be forgiven.” Teza dug a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. “No matter what, so we can say, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.’ And he does.”

“Beth, darlin, have you told Garth?”

Beth shook her head. “He'll hate me.”

“I surely do hope not, but I think you need to tell him.”

“Now?”

“Good a time as any. We'll be prayin for you.”

“Do you all hate me?” Beth looked from face to face, to see all of them shaking their heads. “Really?”

“Uh, Beth, the only one who's been hating you is you.” Elaine waved her scissors. “But I sure could do something to those so-called counselors who feed frightened young girls such a lie.”

Beth pushed herself to her feet. “If I can get a drink of water and wash my face, I'll go on home and tell Garth.”

“Use the washcloth on the towel rack.” Kit stood. “I think we all need a break now.”

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Elaine asked. “Perhaps you shouldn't be driving in the state you re in.”

“Thanks. But unless he throws me out, I should be okay.”

“You think he would?” Elaine looked to Kit and Teza.

Kit shook her head. “I certainly hope not.”

The rest of them stood on the porch watching as Beth walked toward the car. She waved once she was inside and started the engine to drive off.

“Lets just sit down here and pray for those children.” Elsie Mae motioned to the wicker chairs. When they were seated with heads bowed, Elsie Mae began. “Heavenly Father, we bring Beth before you, a hurting, broken child who needs you to keep her close now as she does one of the hardest things, confess to her husband.”

“Be with Garth, too, dear Father, open his heart to hear her and love her with your love and compassion.” Teza paused. “Thank you for sending your son to die that we might live in forgiveness and grace.”

Kit kept her eyes closed, but she could feel Elaine stirring beside her.
She doesnt want to be here any more than I do, does she? Beth, gentle Beth. Oh, such secrets we hide and suffer from.
At the amen, she opened her eyes and blinked, not realizing until then that tears had been leaking down her cheeks.

“You think the depression she's been under was from this?”

“Most likely.” Teza leaned back against the seat. “Do you mind if I stay out here a bit?”

Kit looked at the dark circles under her aunt's eyes and the pale skin of her face. “Would you like to rest on a bed, or perhaps on the lounger on the back deck?”

“No, here where I can see the mountain is fine.”