Tracie Peterson (32 page)

Deciding to leave the best for last, Brook tossed the junk mail aside without a second glance and opened her bills. She owed the telephone company an exorbitant amount—nothing new about that. Then the thick white envelope beneath her credit card bill caught her attention. She pulled it out and noticed it was stamped with the address of her financial planner. Opening it, she was stunned. Her investments had paid off in a big way. Why hadn’t she given this much thought before? She had always taken a good portion of her salary and invested it. She’d presumed with the market in such flux that she’d probably lost a good amount of her hard-earned money, but apparently her investor was wise enough to prevent a heavy loss. She’d have to give the man her thanks.

“This is incredible,” she whispered and continued to double-check the figures to make certain she understood their meaning. With the amount reflected there, Brook quickly realized that she could probably take Ashley’s advice and open a business of her own. Truth be told, with the totals she saw on the statement, she could probably retire. She wouldn’t be able to stay in New York, but she could easily go back to Kansas and live on the interest of her
investments. After all, what did she really need other than a roof over her head and food on the table?

The letter changed everything, and for a moment Brook felt some of her burden lift. Was this an answer to her prayers? She had spent most of the plane trip home feigning sleep and praying. It’d been such a long time since she’d really and truly made time to talk to God that she’d found the plane preparing to land before she’d run out of things to discuss. She’d asked for answers, for direction and purpose. She’d prayed for clearly marked paths and choices so evident that she’d have no chance of missing them.

“Well, Brook,” she said aloud, “your biggest worry was financial and that seems to be under control.”

So why didn’t she feel better? Why did she still feel empty?

She looked around the room, letting the paper slip from her fingers. There was nothing here to keep her interest. Nothing of value, save a few precious pieces: the quilt on her quilt stand—a present from Grammy on her eighteenth birthday; several framed pictures of her sisters and Grammy; a porcelain vase given to her by Ashley. But besides these few things, Brook felt she could easily walk out the door and leave the rest behind.

Maybe that was the answer.

She spied Grammy’s package and smiled. If she couldn’t come home to someone she loved, then the next best thing had to be coming home to a package from Grammy. She pushed the papers aside and took up the parcel. Opening it slowly, Brook savored the moment. What would it be? What had Grammy designed this time? Perhaps it was a sewing project or even some of her homemade goodies. Grammy was known to do that from time to time.

Brook lifted the lid off the box and pushed aside the white tissue paper. Lovingly, she lifted the wall hanging and smiled. The piece looked familiar, however, and Brook tried to think where she’d seen the design before. Six perfectly positioned circles intertwined with each other to make the center piece. Of course! It was a replica of the quilt Grammy had made from their clothes. The one that someone
had offered to buy for some outrageous amount of money.

Picking up the portable phone, Brook dialed Mattie to thank her for the piece. It felt good to have a reason to call her grandmother, and it helped to ease the loneliness of coming back to New York City.

“Grammy? It’s Brook.”

“Hello, sweetheart. How are you? Are you back home?”

“Yes. I flew out of Denver this afternoon.”

“How did things go with your sister?”

Brook thought about her reply for a moment and moved to the window to look out on the lights of the city. “I think they went well. Ashley is still not herself, but she’s better.”

“It’ll take time,” Mattie encouraged.

“I know you’re right, but I miss the old Ashley.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ashley used to be so self-confident. I depended on that more than I realized. I guess, even though I knew she was the one with the tragedy in her life, I went to her hoping to draw from her strength.”

“And you found that she had no strength to draw on?”

Brook nodded, even though she knew Mattie couldn’t see her. “Yes. That’s it exactly. It really made me think.”

“About what?”

“About how I’ve wasted a good portion of my life. About how unhappy I am. My life just seems so meaningless.”

“But it’s not,” Mattie told her.

Brook could imagine Mattie’s worried expression and hurried to explain her statement. “I don’t really think life is meaningless—it just seems the things I’ve chosen to involve myself in are rather meaningless.”

“Then you should make some changes.”

“My thought exactly,” Brook replied. “I have lived my life so far outside of what you taught me was right. I’ve looked to things and people to make me happy, and somewhere along the way I relegated God to some faraway place. A place where I knew He’d be, but only
if I really, really had to find Him.”

“And has that time come?” Mattie questioned, and Brook could hear the hopefulness in Mattie’s tone.

“I think so,” Brook replied. “I really prayed for the first time in a long time while coming home on the plane.”

“And did you come to any conclusions?”

Brook smiled. “Not clear-cut. Not yet. I guess one of the things I was so troubled over was that I made Ashley some promises. Promises that I have no idea of how to keep. In fact, I know that without help, I can’t keep them.”

Mattie laughed softly. “Reminds me of the time when you girls were about ten and we were having a surprise birthday party for Erica. Do you remember?”

“How could I forget?” Brook replied. “I’m the one who ruined the surprise.”

“I made you all promise not to talk about the party—not even to each other. I gave you all special projects and—”

“And I decided it wouldn’t hurt to talk things over with Ashley. After all, she was a part of the plan.”

Mattie chuckled again. “Only problem was, Erica overheard you, which I knew would be the case if you talked amongst yourselves.”

“Guess I’ve never been good with promises.”

“Your guilt consumed you. You were miserable for days.”

“I remember,” Brook said, staring out at the city skyline without truly seeing it. Her mind flashed back to seeing herself sitting in complete dejection in her bedroom back on the farm. “I felt so horrible for having disappointed you. That was what bothered me the most. Erica still had fun at the party, but I’d let you down.”

“So you do remember.”

“I remember the only thing that made any sense was to go to you and beg for forgiveness. I knew that I had to set things right. Your forgiveness and the way you held me in your arms and told me that you still loved me . . . well, it was all that I needed. It set me free.”

“Forgiveness is that way,” Grammy said softly. “It takes the burden
of responsibility from your shoulders and shares it with the one who does the forgiving. Then the weight isn’t so heavy to bear. And with God, He doesn’t even make you continue to carry the load. He takes it all and throws it as far as the east is from the west.”

Brook smiled. “I remember asking you how far that was and you told me that it was so far that I could walk for all my life and never come to the place where the two came together.”

“Forgiveness is often the only place you can start,” Mattie told her granddaughter. “Even when the other person is dead wrong. Even when the pain is still fresh.”

“Even when the past has scarred the future?” Brook questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Especially then.”

Brook knew Mattie understood that her words were about Rachelle. Neither one had to say anything more. Walking back to the table, Brook spied the wall hanging.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I called because I got your present.”

“My present?”

“The wall hanging. Grammy, it’s so beautiful. You didn’t put in a note, so I thought I would call and see what this is all about.”

“I figured it spoke for itself.”

“How so?”

“It’s one-sixth of the Piece Work quilt. Your sisters each have a portion and I have the sixth piece.”

“I see,” Brook said. In the pit of her stomach she felt a nagging ache. She couldn’t believe Mattie had torn the quilt apart.

“Oh, Brook,” Mattie suddenly said, “Harry’s just come to the door. I’m going to have to go for now. I love you, though, and I’m glad you called. By the way, there was something else in that package. The letter from your mother I told you about is in there as well.”

“I didn’t see a letter,” Brook said, going back to the package wrapping. There in the bottom of the box was the envelope. “Oh, here it is.”

“I’ll talk to you more later, sweetheart.”

“I love you, Grammy,” Brook said, staring at the unopened envelope. Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she hung up the phone.

She reached for the letter and opened it very slowly. Why had Rachelle chosen to speak to her now? What could she possibly say that would matter—that would make a difference for the future? Sitting down, Brook began to read.

To my daughter Brook
,

People always thought it strange that I had so many children when I didn’t intend to be a mother to them. The truth is, I always intended to be a mother, but life got in the way. I realized very quickly that I couldn’t be for you what you needed me to be. I felt inadequate to the task. People often ask me which movie role was the hardest, but the hardest role was never a part of any motion picture. It was being mother to five girls and knowing I had completely failed at the task
.

You may wonder why I’m writing this now—why I’m bothering you with details you no doubt care very little about. Well, the truth is, as you know by now, I intend to take my life. I can live no longer with the guilt I’ve carried all these years. The guilt of knowing I gave birth to five children and then walked away. But at the very center of my actions was a fear I could never overcome. To love you—to cling to you and need you—would have meant facing the possibility of losing you. Losing you like I had lost my father and brother—losing you like I lost your father. Brook, I could never have survived that pain. Call me a coward, for that is true enough, but try to understand that the idea of never loving someone again wasn’t nearly as frightening as loving them only to lose them. So when you think of me—if you think of me—try to forgive my fears. They never protected me at all. I still loved you and it still hurts
.

Rachelle

Erica returned to Kansas City from Baltimore, completely convinced that she’d just given the audition of her life. Her performance had been flawless, and unless the conductor and panel
simply didn’t care for her technique, she felt confident they would give her the job.

Whistling a tune she’d played at the audition, Erica picked up her mail and noticed the package from Grammy. Immediately she ripped away the brown paper and opened the gift. Pulling out the quilted wall hanging, Erica smiled. Grammy was always so thoughtful, spending her time and energy making them gifts. What a precious legacy she was leaving behind her.

The telephone rang, interrupting the silence. Reluctantly, she put down the piece and went to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Erica, it’s Brook.”

She felt an immediate sense of concern. The last conversation she’d had with Brook hadn’t exactly gone very well. “Hello.”

“I just got back from seeing Ashley in Denver.”

“How is she?”

“Better physically, but still hurting emotionally.”

“Well, life seems to do that to folks,” Erica replied, instantly regretting her flippant response.

“Are you doing okay?” Brook questioned.

“Sure. Why do you ask?”

“You don’t sound okay. You sound upset. Are you still mad at me?”

Erica felt her resolve give way. “I suppose I’m still smarting from the dressing down you gave me. But never mind that. I came home from having an audition in Baltimore and found the neatest present from Grammy.”

“I know. I have one too.”

“It looks just like that prizewinning quilt of hers,” Erica said in rapid order. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a heavy discussion on feelings and problems with her older sister.

“It doesn’t just look like it,” Brook replied. “That wall hanging is your part of the original quilt.”

“No way! That quilt was worth a small fortune. Besides, Grammy
said she was going to keep it to remind her of her memories of us at home and the days gone by.”

“I just talked to Grammy,” Brook admitted. “She divided the quilt and sent us each one-sixth—our sixth.”

Erica looked at the piece again and felt a tingling sensation run up her spine. “Well, so what if it is? Apparently she changed her mind about what she wanted to do with the piece. I think it’s a wonderful present.”

“I don’t think it’s intended to be a present,” Brook replied. “Grammy didn’t say it in so many words, but I think she’s trying to show us something important here.”

As Brook paused, Erica tried to think of what to say. She didn’t like to think that Grammy had divided her beautiful quilt. The quilt’s importance to Grammy had been very evident.

“Have you made amends with Connie and Deirdre yet?”

“That’s none of your business,” Erica snapped. “You thought it all childish anyway, so what do you care?”

“I care because I’m starting to see that maybe there’s something more to all of this than just personal issues and inconveniences.”

“Look, just stay out it,” Erica replied, feeling angry that Brook would step in where she’d not been asked to come. “Dee and I always work things out and we’re just fine. Connie can do what she pleases, just like she’s always done in the past. I’m not going to be bothered by her melodramatics anymore.”

Brook’s voice took on a strange tone and Erica almost believed she was crying. “Listen to yourself,” Brook said softly. “Do you really hear what you’re saying?”

Erica was instantly consumed with guilt. She knew her harshness was born out of a culmination of problems and issues and not just because her sister had dared to speak her mind.