The Healing Quilt (49 page)

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Authors: Lauraine Snelling

Tags: #Fiction, #Religious

BOOK: The Healing Quilt
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“Come on, lets go look at all the items for auction.” Garth joined the group, carrying a plate of handmade truffles from the The Choco-latier. “Here, I brought enough for everyone.”

“Why, Garth, we thought you were going to eat them all.” Teza shook her head, the jewel-studded turban she wore throwing back the glitter from the ball overhead.

“I would if they were chocolate-covered cherries like the ones you made.” He held the plate out for the rest to help themselves.

“You just want to ogle that Chevy, I know.” Beth put her other hand through the bend of his elbow.

“My dad had one like that. The stories he could tell, why…if I won the bid on that baby, he would turn green and purple with envy.”

“I'd rather have the Caribbean cruise.” Kit closed her eyes in bliss at the smooth chocolate. “But chocolate like this takes a close second.”

“Leave it to a woman.” Mark locked his free arm with Teza's.

“Yes, a woman in menopause like your wife is entitled to all the chocolate she needs.” Teza tugged on her two escorts. “Lets make sure we get in the front row. All the women who worked on that quilt are to be honored, and I don't want to have to walk too far in these shoes.”

The group made their way forward, greeting others and teasing Garth as he used his suitcoat sleeve to rub a spot off the front fender of the 1957 Chevy Impala.

Volunteers in black tuxes handed out programs and ushered guests to seats.

The band ended their set with a flourish and announced that the auction would be starting in fifteen minutes. Folks were invited to finish up their voting for the food entries.

“There you all are.” Elaine stopped at their row. “Isn't this the best crowd? Who'd have dreamed we'd have this kind of attendance?” She glanced at Teza. “I know, you and so many others have been praying, and we should give God the glory.” She winked at Kit. “See, I've been listening.”

“Never doubted it for a minute.” Kit pointed at a seat on the other side of Mark. “We saved you a place.”

“Maybe later. I want to make sure everything goes smoothly backstage.” Elaine nodded toward the eight-foot thermometer off to the side. “Can you believe how much has already been earned for our mammogram unit?” Red paint filled in the bulb and registered at thirty-five degrees. Ninety-eight point six meant the $90,000 needed for the unit was theirs.

“The grant you earned helped with that.”

“I know, but I'm amazed it came through so quickly. Usually those things can take a year or more.”

Someone called her name, and Elaine fluttered a hand at them as she hurried off.

“Things sure changed a lot while I was gone.” Mark laid an arm across the back of Kits chair and leaned closer so she could hear above the buzz of conversation and bursts of laughter.

Kit nodded. And even though he'd been home for almost six months, minus three short business trips, he still didn't realize how much he'd missed.

His homecoming had been her most important Christmas present, and while they were still working out some problems, the Bible study they were involved in at Garth's church was helping.

“Ladies and gentlemen.

The drums rolled, and a spotlight hit the man at the microphone.

“Welcome to the Spring Gala, Jefferson City's own community bash. Tonight you have the opportunity to bid on dream vacations, services, entertainment, a hot rod to call up the days of your youth, and our
pièce de resistance
.” The spotlight moved to the quilt that glowed like jewels in the brightness.

“The Healing Quilt! Sewn and quilted by citizens of Jefferson City who cared enough to dream enough to bring a state-of-the-art mammogram unit to our hospital. Right now I'd like all the women who worked on this quilt to come forward so we can give them the hand they so richly deserve. Come on, ladies, right over there, stand in the spodight.”

A spotlight made a circle on the floor, which was quickly filled with the women who'd helped. As he called their names, each of them raised her hand, and the applause kept on rolling.

Kit felt an arm come around her waist and smiled at Beth, who stood between her and Teza.

“We did it,” she mouthed, and Kit nodded. In spite of all the illnesses and treatments and family emergencies, they'd finished the day before the October first deadline. Just as Elaine had promised, the quilt had hung first at the hospital right as folks came in the front doors, then several banks, a restaurant, the country club, and the medical center. It had been featured on television, radio, in newspapers, and even several magazines. The quilt had done its job long before it came here for the auction.

They filed back to their seats, half-blinded by the spotlight but laughing all the way.

“Now I know what a star feels like. I can't see a thing.” Teza took her seat.

Kit watched her carefully to make sure she didn't get too tired. When she'd mentioned taking it easy, however, Teza shook her head.

“I can always sleep tomorrow. Tonight is a victory, and I wouldn't miss it for all the tea in China.”

“Oh, oh, the wonder boy.” Mark crossed his arms over his chest as Winston Henry Jefferson IV strode across the stage. “How come he can still look young enough to be carded at restaurants, while the rest of us…” He smoothed a hand over his ever-extending forehead.

“Genetics.” Kit knew that her husband and Winston had competed for the captainship of various teams through much of their growing-up years. Rumor had it that Winston's father had bought good will for his son by treating the teams to pizza and ice cream or even a night or two at the movies. She'd been a couple of years behind them in school, but that didn't matter much in a town their size. She returned her attention to the stage where Winston had been talking about the inception of this event.

“…We see the purchase of this state-of-the-art diagnostic tool as the first step in our plans and dreams to build the Angela Jefferson Women's Oncology Center right here in Jefferson City. And we hope you good folks open your pocketbooks tonight to create a brighter future for our community. Thank you, and have a marvelous time.”

Teza leaned forward around Mark to give Kit a rolled-eye look, along with a slight shake of her head.

“Winnie is at it again.”

Kit hid a chuckle behind her hand. Teza often told tales of boyhood pranks of the group Mark and Winnie hung out with, stories that made Mark invoke the old “Do as I say, not as I did” proverb with his children.

Kit applauded along with everyone else as Winston left the stage, mostly because she was glad he hadn't been more long-winded.

The auctioneer stepped up to the podium. “And now, what we've all been waiting for…who is going to take home this stunning quilt? Am I bid a thousand?” He went into his auctioneer patter and the price kept climbing. Two thousand, twenty-five, twenty-five hundred, three thousand.

“Come on now, folks, we've just begun here.”

“Five thousand.” A voice from the back brought a smile to the auctioneer's face. “Now that's what I like to hear. Give me ten.”

Kit locked her folded hands under her chin. “Keep it going, dear God, keep it going.”

The bids climbed to twenty thousand, and another of the bidders dropped out.

“This is going for a good cause now. Do I hear twenty-five?”

Kit twisted to see who it was still bidding from the back.

“You better sit still or we may end up buying a quilt.” Mark spoke without moving his head.

“No, we don't have a card.”

“Neither does that man up there, but they are catching his bids.”

“Oh, who is he?”

“Got me, but he's sure helping the bid along.”

“That's right, twenty-five, twenty-five, come on give me twenty-six.”

“Thirty-five thousand dollars.”

Who bid thatiYlt
kept herself still by steel will.

“Do I hear thirty-six? That's thirty-five to the man with the silver hair in the back. Anyone? Thirty-six.”

“Too rich for my blood.”

“Going, going, anyone else? Gone! For thirty-five thousand dollars. What is your name, sir?”

The applause started as the gavel fell, and as one, the women stood and turned to honor the man who bought the quilt.

If only I could whistle like Amber used to.
Kit clapped until her hands were hot.

“Thirty-five thousand dollars.” Teza leaned back against her chair as they sat down again. “Who'd a dreamed it.”

“Winston bid for quite a while.” Beth leaned toward Kit. “I think he liked it hanging in the lobby at the hospital like it did.”

“I know. Would have been nice to keep it in the community.”

They settled back to enjoy the remainder of the auction, groaning along with Garth when the car bid started higher than he'd dreamed of paying for it.

“So much for making my dad jealous. But then jealousy isn't good for him anyway.”

“Don't tell me you were coveting that there automobile?” The man in front of them spoke over his shoulder.

Garth tapped one of his elders on the back. “Not at all, Wayne. Just dreaming.”

The auctioneer moved the bidding right along, and the woman painting in the red thermometer kept busy. The closer the red line drew to ninety-eight degrees, the faster the bids flew.

When the gavel fell for the final time, Kit leaned back against Mark's arm and fanned herself with the program.

“I feel like I've been running a race or something.”

“Me, too.” Beth propped her elbows on her knees. “But you realize, hardly anyone has left.”

“Pretty amazing.” Mark stood and stretched. “I'll be right back.”

Kit watched him as he left, thinking he was going to the men's room, but when he went up to the cashier, she gave Teza a questioning look.

“Did you see him bid on anything?”

Teza shook her head. “Although I sure thought about bidding on the house painters, but I'd have them paint the barn instead.”

“Housecleaning for six months would have been my choice.” Kit trapped a yawn with her hand. “Or that Caribbean cruise, like we mentioned. I didn't see who got that. Did any of you?”

“I was afraid to move in case I bought something I couldn't afford.” Garth glanced over to where the new owner was talking with the dealer who'd donated the Chevy.

“Cars that are paid for are a real mercy.” Beth tapped his arm.

“I know, but dreams don't cost a dime.”

“True.” She smiled at Kit as she caught the yawn. “How come we're yawning and Teza isn't?”

“Too tired to yawn.”

“Then we better get you home.” Kit picked up her purse and stood, glancing around for Mark.

“Sorry it took so long.” Mark held up a Caribbean travel brochure. “Do you think we can fit this in our schedule?”

“Elaine, dear, I was really proud of you tonight.” George kissed her cheek, then put his arms around her as they stood looking out the window toward the mountain. Lights twinkled in the blackness of both the sky and the land. “That has to be the coup of your career.”

“Thank you.” Elaine leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “You're not on call tonight, are you?”

“No. And I won't be much anymore, only extreme emergencies. I've decided to let the younger men do that. There's got to be some kind of privilege with age, don't you think?”

“I think age has only made you sexier.” She popped out the first of the studs in his shirt and reached up to kiss his chin.

The next morning she stood at the window watching the sun come up behind Mount Rainier. With Doodlebug on one arm and a cup of coffee in the other hand, she thought back to what she called
the quilt months.
“You know what, Bug? After everything I've done and seen and heard these last months”—she sucked on her bottom lip—“I'm beginning to think there is more to life after all.”

The brilliant orange disk broke free from the mountain. “And I don't want to miss out.”

Dear Readers.

Back in 1986 when our daughter Marie died of cancer at age twenty-one, I had no idea what terrible, heart breaking grief is like. Yes, my father had died as well as other relatives, but they were older and, in the natural scheme of things, they would die before I did. But not my daughter. God had healed her once, and I felt sure he would do so again. He did, but not in the way I wanted. When someone asked me if I would write our story, I said only when God is adamant that the time is right. I asked him years ago whether, since I am hard of hearing to that still small voice, would he please say things three times so that I get the message. When the time came for this story to be told, he bombarded me with signals. Three, and then three, and then three again.

However, the story you just read,
The Healing Quilt
, is not the story I started out to write. It grew. My story is only a small piece of the stories of these four women who strive, like you and I do, to understand and live out forgiveness. Kit, who struggles with anger and grief over the death of her daughter, is not me but parts of me. Beth cannot forgive herself— haven't we all been there? Teza trusts God but still fears—ah, who can say that is not herself? And Elaine seeks to get even and
sees
no need to forgive, and yet is confronted by love anyway. Ring a bell?

These many years after 1986 I still cry at times. I miss Marie, but I remember more of the good times than the bad, and I'm thankful the pain of the memories is gone—most of the time. I know with everything that I am, that God loves me, forgives me, and extends the grace I do not understand but rejoice in daily to heal me and, through the sharing of my stories, help bring healing and hope to others.

I hope and pray that you enjoyed this story, laughed some, cried some, and allowed Gods love and mercy to flood your very being. I need to go blow my nose and wipe my eyes now.

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