Tracie Peterson (15 page)

“Ashley, listen to yourself. You’re a married woman. An old friend of the family. What are you worried about?”

“I just don’t want to cause him any more trouble. I think I’ve done enough of that.”

“Ashley, you and Harry broke up over ten years ago. Just go talk to him. You’ll never really feel you’ve put this thing to rest until you do. You’ll probably laugh about it once you explain, and he’ll feel exactly the same way. You were both young and immature. Chalk it up to experience and leave this place as friends.”

Brook’s advice made sense. “All right,” Ashley said, nodding. “Just don’t tell everyone else where I went. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

Ten minutes later, Ashley shut off her car engine and stared at Harry’s old farmhouse. The place was nearly as familiar to her as Grammy’s farm. The old screened-in porch with its solid square pillars at the corners beckoned to her, assuring her that she was welcomed. When the porch light came on, Ashley knew she couldn’t put off her purpose any longer.

Getting out of the car, she went up the porch steps just as Harry opened the door. He looked surprised to see her.

“Hello, Harry,” she said, then drew a deep breath. “If you have a minute, I was hoping we could talk.”

He nodded and opened the screen door. “Come on in, Ashley.”

She walked into the house, surprised to find that very little had changed since she’d last been here. Photographs of Harry and his family still hung on the wall, along with a couple of cheap reproduction oil paintings that depicted Kansas prairie scenes. An old crocheted throw of browns and tans lay across the back of the well-worn floral-print sofa. She smiled, finding comfort in the familiarity.

“It looks the same,” she finally said.

“Guess no one could accuse me of following fads,” Harry countered. He motioned for her to sit and Ashley did so. “You want
something to drink?”

“What do you have?”

“I made some coffee earlier. It’s probably a little strong now—”

“Sounds fine.”

He disappeared into the kitchen and soon returned with two mugs. Ashley smiled when she noted that he’d put cream in her coffee without asking. She sampled it and nodded. “It’s perfect.”

She waited until he’d taken a seat on the sofa before beginning. “I know it’s probably silly for me to be here, but I kept thinking that I should come.” She forced herself to meet his curious stare. “Harry, I’ve never been able to work up the nerve to talk to you about us. About what I did. But now I know I have to put the past to rest.” He said nothing, so she continued.

“I treated you badly, and I’ve always been sorry. I just never found a way to tell you or to explain myself. I thought I really loved you, and in my childish way, I know I did. You were good and kind and sensible and secure. You were everything that I wanted in a husband—except . . .” she trailed off into silence, wondering how to put into words the selfishness of the woman she had been back then.

She took a drink and shook her head. “I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t bear the idea of staying in Kansas and being a farmer’s wife. It wasn’t you, Harry. It was me.” She looked at him, hoping to emphasize the truth. “I hated Rachelle for what she had done to me—what she had done to all of us. I wanted to prove to her that I could be ten times the woman she was. I wanted a visible, impressive life that would jump out and be evidence of my ability to be better than Rachelle Barrister.”

She put down the coffee and got to her feet. Pacing seemed to make the words easier to say. “I married Jack because I knew he’d become a very public figure. He had drive and motivation to become not only a doctor but a wealthy and famous one. He wanted a showplace and a wife to host his parties and to bring fame and notoriety upon him. And I wanted that too. I didn’t really love him when I married him, and I know he didn’t love me, but we learned to love
each other and as some of the things of this world faded in importance, we realized how much we had come to care about each other. Suddenly Rachelle didn’t seem to overshadow everything I did. The boys came along and Jack began to change. He adores his children.” She stopped pacing and smiled. “He’s a good father and a wonderful husband, and I love him with all of my heart.”

Sitting back down, Ashley faced the silent man she’d wounded. “I ran away from you, Harry. I ran away for a lot of reasons, but the biggest was because I knew I couldn’t give you what you wanted from me. I couldn’t give you my heart. It wasn’t because you didn’t deserve love and hadn’t shown me the very best of your affections, it was because my heart was so encased in ice that I couldn’t share it with you. I had to come here and tell you how sorry I am for the pain I caused. I should have just been honest with you from the start, but I couldn’t even be honest with myself.”

“I know,” Harry said softly. He stared at his coffee cup and seemed to consider her words for a moment. “I guess I always knew, but then one day Mattie had a long talk with me. She explained that you were too young and that the scars Rachelle had given you were not going to be easily overcome. She helped me to see that I had very little to do with your decision.”

“Do you hate me?” Ashley asked. She dreaded the answer.

Harry looked up and smiled. “No. I don’t hate you. I didn’t hate you then. Frankly, I know now that neither of us was ready for marriage. It would have been a big mistake.”

Ashley breathed a sigh of relief. “I know it would have been. You deserved someone a whole lot better than me. I hope Sarah will be that for you. I hope she deserves your love.”

Harry shook his head and looked back at the coffee mug. “Don’t say anything to Mattie, but I’m not sure I’m going to go through with it.”

“Not go through with marrying Sarah? Why?”

“I’m just feeling funny about it. Like maybe it’s a mistake.”

Ashley felt rather stunned by his declaration. “But why, Harry?”

He looked at her, and the intensity of his gaze nearly made Ashley turn away. “Because I’m not sure I love her—not the way I should.”

Ashley nodded. If anyone could understand the meaning of his words, it was Ashley. “I won’t say anything,” she promised. “Grammy would tell you to take it to God, so I guess that’s the suggestion I’m making as well. We were friends for a long time, Harry. I’d hate to see you hurt, especially after what I did.”

“All’s forgiven,” he said quite soberly. “That
is
why you came here, isn’t it?”

Ashley nodded. “I guess it is. I don’t know why it seemed so important just now, but I think it’s probably because of some things Grammy has been saying about not knowing how long any of us have on earth. Of learning to forgive and forget mistakes and to let go of the past.”

“As with Rachelle?” he questioned.

His words struck a chord that resonated within her, for Ashley knew she wasn’t ready to let go of her anger toward her mother. “I imagine I’ll be working on that for some time.”

“The woman definitely left her mark on the world,” Harry replied.

“She left her mark on me as well,” Ashley admitted. “She left it on all of us.”

The next morning the Mitchell farm was alive with activities. Breakfast was bittersweet as Mattie faced her grandchildren’s departure with mixed emotions. They had their own lives. They had to go back to their families and jobs, but she would miss them so very much.

“Grammy,” Connie began when breakfast was nearly half over, “do you suppose I could someday have your quilt?”

Her sisters immediately focused their attention on Connie. They all seemed to understand only too well which quilt Connie had requested.

“What makes you think you should have it?” Erica asked. “I’m just as crazy about it as you are. I wouldn’t mind having it myself.”

“You aren’t the only one,” Deirdre threw in. “I already told Grammy that for myself.”

Mattie found herself immediately caught up in an onslaught of questions and requests. “Girls!” she pleaded. “Don’t start arguing now. Not when you’re getting ready to leave.”

“Connie started this,” Brook said seriously. “If anyone should have that quilt, I would think it should go to the oldest child and be passed down from there.”

“That’s not fair,” Erica said, pushing back from the table. “I’ve spent my entire life getting hand-me-downs from this family. Why shouldn’t I be entitled to be first in something?”

“Oh, please,” Ashley replied, throwing down her napkin. “You’ve been spoiled all your life. We’ve all pampered you at one time or another.”

Mattie was astounded at the harshness of the tone and words that continued. Unable to listen to any more of their insults, Mattie slammed down her favorite glass pitcher, shattering it against the table. She hadn’t meant to be so dramatic, but when it drew everyone’s attention, she no longer cared about the results.

“I had hoped that you girls would have worked out some of your differences in light of putting your mother to rest. Obviously, I was wrong. You have no idea the pain it causes me to see you at each other’s throats. My quilt is immaterial. It was made as an act of love, but you clearly don’t understand that.”

More angry at them than she had ever been, Mattie shook her head. “You’re going to have to clean up the mess you’ve made of your lives.” She went to the kitchen door and looked back at their remorseful expressions. “Just don’t expect me to be in the middle of it.”

She took herself off to the front porch, aware of the tomblike silence in the kitchen.
Good
, she thought.
Maybe they’ll learn the importance of kindness and consideration. Maybe they’ll finally see themselves and their actions for
what they are.

Mattie was gravely disappointed, however, when she returned to the house to find the kitchen cleaned up but the girls barely speaking. While they tried for appearances’ sake to deal with one another in a civil manner, Mattie could see the tension in their expressions. Why couldn’t they let go of their anger and sorrow? Why couldn’t they find strength in one another instead of anger and resentment?

“I hope it won’t take another funeral to bring you all back home,” Mattie told them honestly. The four separate stacks of luggage at the bottom of her staircase spoke volumes to Mattie.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, Grammy,” Connie said, the first to bid her good-bye. She had obviously been crying, for Mattie could see the smudges where she’d wiped at her mascara.

“We didn’t mean to get so angry,” Erica said when her turn came to hug Mattie.

“We have a lot to work on,” Ashley admitted. She and Brook seemed to be the only ones who were at ease with each other.

“Girls, you’re all so important to me,” Mattie finally said. “I don’t expect you to always agree with each other. I know you’ll have your differences from time to time, but I don’t want you to forget how intricately connected we are to one another.”

“Like the quilt?” Ashley questioned with a smile.

“Yes,” Mattie replied, “like the quilt. I never meant it to be the cause of dividing you even more. I made it as a symbol of our unity and love. You’re a part of one another and together you make up the whole. But divided and separated, you stand alone.”

The girls eyed her seriously, and even though they were all grown-up, Mattie couldn’t help but remember them as little girls. They would always be her girls—vulnerable and precious.

“Our lives are inseparably connected,” she said, reaching out to touch each one. “Joined together for a reason by the Master. It isn’t important to remember those who didn’t love you.” She paused. “What counts is remembering those who do.”

Chapter 14

At twenty-six, Deirdre Woodward felt she pretty much had the world by the tail. Her husband, Dave, was a successful Kansas City attorney and her golden-haired daughter, Morgan, was happily completing her kindergarten year in school. There was even talk of having another baby, and Deirdre thought she might try to get pregnant on their anniversary trip to Hawaii. A child would be a pleasant reminder of the trip, and since they were scheduled to head out at the end of the first week of June, that would allow her to give birth in March. A spring baby sounded like the best of all possible planning. The weather would just be getting warm, yet Morgan would still be in school. In fact, she’d be in first grade, so school would be an all-day event—unlike today, which had Deirdre running from her afternoon of fun with her girlfriends to the school to pick up Morgan from kindergarten.