Dakota Love (11 page)

“Caroline gave me a ride home from church. I’d offered her coffee, but she’s not certain she can spare the time.” Rodney looked into the all-too-innocent expression on his sister’s face.

“Please join us. I’d like to ask you about a quilt idea.”

Interest sparkled in Caroline’s blue eyes. “I guess I could spare an hour.”

“Great!” Michelle backed out of the car, freeing Rodney.

Michelle chattered about the weather all the way into the house. “When I called to tell you I’d be early, I got your voice mail.”

Rodney removed his cell phone from the holder on his belt, flipped the cover, and turned it back on. “I turn it off before I go into the church. Look. I have a message and it’s from my sissy.”

Michelle’s eyes narrowed to slits. Before she could protest or set down the bags she carried, Rodney pulled her into a tight hug, pinning her arms to her sides. He’d gotten his revenge for her interruption and antics in the car, although she did get Caroline to come in for coffee, so he’d give her points for that. He loosened his grip on her.

“Let me take your coats.”

Rodney gathered both women’s coats and hung them on pegs in the hall. When he returned to the kitchen, the coffeepot gurgled its start. Michelle unpacked containers from the plastic bags and began to restock the freezer. Caroline sat alone at the kitchen table.

“Should I leave something out? Turkey meat loaf, chicken enchiladas, or vegetable soup?” Michelle turned to Rodney with a container in her hand.

“Surprise me.” Rodney poured three cups of decaf and carried two to the table. He set one in front of Caroline and the other at the chair across from her. What a strategic plan. He’d sit next to her after he added cream to his coffee.

“I can’t believe how healthy you eat. I regret not making my family eat a better diet.” Caroline studied the liquid in her mug.

Michelle raised her eyebrows at Rodney as she walked past him, then sat in the spot next to Caroline and slid the cup that sat on the table in front of her. “Why’s that?”

“My husband died of a massive coronary.”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t know.”

“It’s been well over a year now, but my son and I still experience repercussions from it. I wish Ted had known Rodney. He might have followed his good example. Ted didn’t exercise or watch his diet.”

“Rodney didn’t always. It took one good scare to get him to shape up.”

Rodney’s stomach dropped like he’d swallowed lead. He’d sidestepped this conversation with Caroline far too long. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to be the
one
to tell her. She deserved to know because of the way she felt about Ted’s death. He’d missed his opportune moments, and then the timing never seemed right. Just like right now. As he walked to the table, his feet felt heavy, as if the figurative lead he’d swallowed had fallen directly into them. He sat down, prepared for the worst.

Caroline sipped her coffee and looked across the table at him. “Well, exercise and diet do add years to our lives. We boomers are outliving our parents.”

She thinks the scare was due to Mom’s illness
. He needed to tell her.

“You wanted to talk to me about a quilt?” Caroline turned her attention to Michelle.

Confusion shadowed Michelle’s face as she looked from Rodney to Caroline.

Obviously misreading Michelle’s confusion, Caroline tried to jog the other woman’s memory. “Outside you said you had questions about a quilt?”

“Y–yes, the quilt,” Michelle stammered, then smiled at Caroline. “I’ve seen quilts made from old T-shirts and I’d like to have one made for each of my sons. Do you do anything like that?”

“I never have, but I can. I purchased a pattern for one. The blocks are large with sashing in between.”

“Okay.” Michelle sounded uncertain.

“It’s quilter’s language. She uses it all the time.” Rodney laughed out loud. “Say it in layman’s terms, Caroline. God blessed Michelle, just like Mom, with the cooking talent, not the sewing talent.”

“It’s true.” Michelle laughed. “I can secure a button, but that’s about it.”

“My pattern has ten-inch blocks.” She drew a square in the air with her fingers to give Michelle an idea of the block size. “You use the front or back of the T-shirt for that. Strips of fabric or sashing frame and separate the blocks to make the top of the quilt. I believe my pattern uses twelve T-shirts, three across and four down. I can probably adjust the quilt size if you need me to.”

“So I’d just need twelve T-shirts apiece and you’d make it?”

“You’d need fabric for the sashing and the back. Most of the pictures I’ve seen of this type of quilt have the top pieced together with sashing that matches the back fabric of the quilt or a neutral color that goes with all the T-shirts and a patterned fabric on the back. If you’d like, I can work up a yardage estimate of the amount of fabric needed to put it together.”

“That’d be great. You are good, Caroline.” Michelle reached over and patted her arm. “My next question was about how much fabric to buy. Will you e-mail the estimate to me or Rodney?”

“Better yet,” Rodney interjected, “go to her website and contact her. That way her website logs hits, which moves it up on search engine traffic. I’ll e-mail you the link.”

Caroline tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. “Now who’s speaking a foreign language?”

“I like her.” Through the picture window, Michelle watched Caroline back out of Rodney’s driveway. The snow had stopped falling, leaving the ground a glittering blanket of white.

“I do, too.” Rodney peered over Michelle’s shoulder, straining to catch the last glimpses of Caroline.

“Then why haven’t you told her that you’ve had a mild heart attack?” Michelle whirled and faced her brother. “She thinks you changed your life because of Mom, doesn’t she? Why would you tell her something like that?” Michelle’s temper flared, her tone taking on a fierce edge. Sometimes Rodney pitied his brother-in-law and nephews.

“It’s complicated. First, she’s been so withdrawn and worried.”

“So that makes it okay to lie?”

“Can…I…finish?” Rodney enunciated each word. “I didn’t lie. She jumped to conclusions. I’ve tried to tell her twice, but before I could, she changed the subject. I didn’t know how to work it back into the conversation. Besides…” He paused.

“You’re afraid she won’t want to get involved with a man who could have additional coronary issues.”

Exactly. Michelle knew him too well. “Yeah, and she’s just coming out of her shell of grief, fear, and worry. Well, grief and fear. Worry still plagues her. That’s why I’m having a hard time bringing myself to tell her.” While he was at it, he might as well confess the rest. “She knows I was in advertising, but she assumes I retired early, like some baby boomers do, and took care of Mom when she was sick.”

“Rodney, relationships are hard enough. You have to be honest with her. She needs to know job stress and lifestyle took a toll on you.”

“I know.” Rodney hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Withholding information like this was a trust breaker, and he knew Caroline was beginning to trust him. She confided her problem with her son and seemed very open to the impromptu almost-kiss.

“And another thing.” Michelle pushed his shoulder to get him to look up, then crossed her arms in front of her chest. “What’s this about the website? You’d better not be slipping back into your old work twenty-four/ seven habits.” Sparks of anger flared in Michelle’s eyes. Had they been real, her glare would have set his house on fire.

“I’m not becoming a workaholic again, although I do enjoy that type of work. She tried to design her own website. It screamed amateur, so I punched it up. That’s all. She is trying to start a new business. I just wanted to help.”
Unlike her son
.

“Come and see it; then you can e-mail her about those quilts.”

Michelle’s stance relaxed. “Lead the way.” She hovered over his shoulder, watching him download pictures Caroline had forwarded to be included on the website. One of them was the before picture of Rodney’s quilt.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that Aunt Jenny thinks she has a black-and-white picture with that quilt in it. She’s looking for it. Then she said she’d tell me about it.”

“Well, I received an e-mail from Aunt Katherine saying she was sure a cousin in California made it. I didn’t even know we had relatives in California.” Rodney craned his neck and looked up at his sister.

She shrugged. “Me either.”

“Of course, no one has contact information for them.”

“Figures. Well, at least you’ve gotten some responses. They may shed some light on the mystery. E-mail me the link for Caroline’s website.”

“Speaking of which, Caroline’s friend Mark, who runs the quilt shop in Sioux Falls, tracked down the quilt block’s name.” Rodney hit S
END
on the e-mail toolbar. “It’s Lily of the Field.”

Michelle burst out laughing. “Mom couldn’t have known that. She’d have never kept the quilt.”

“I know. She hated lilies.”

Caroline wrestled with giddiness, guilt, and all the emotions in between as she appliquéd another candy jar block.

It felt nice to be wanted. Scary, too. Yet did she know Rodney well enough to kiss him? She had nothing to compare that to. She didn’t remember not knowing Ted. They’d attended school together. Turned into high school sweethearts. Their first kiss happened on their first date. She and Rodney hadn’t really dated, had they? So why would she have allowed the kiss?

What was she thinking? Then she remembered the intoxicating smell of his cologne that had beckoned her closer. The look in his eyes, which weakened her knees even now. His concern about her worries. Yet being alone with him just added to her list of worries. Jason didn’t like the idea of her dating. Would he ever? She wanted their mother-and-son relationship back to normal, but even then would he accept her interest in men other than his father? She was definitely interested in Rodney. She longed to know him better.

She stopped the machine. Lost in her conflicting feelings, she hadn’t paid attention to her work. Fortunately, the stitches and pattern remained straight, but why take chances? She decided to try another quilt that didn’t demand precision.

The Lily of the Field lay on her worktable. She hadn’t touched it since that first morning she’d snipped the threads that tied it together. Caroline sat in her sewing chair, seam ripper in hand, and began to cut the hem threads, being careful not to tear the fabric of the quilt top.

Mark’s quote of the verse in the book of Matthew popped into her mind:
“See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.”
Always aware of her inner worries, she hadn’t realized they showed themselves outwardly. Rodney named two telltale signs. Were there more? Could everyone see them?

Caroline pinched pieces of the loose threads between her thumb and finger to remove them from the quilt and placed them in a pile on the table. She lightly brushed the block pattern that represented the flower. Lilies didn’t have cars or homes that could need repair. Lilies didn’t need health insurance. Lilies didn’t need more than dirt, rain, and sunshine, all provided by God, to survive. Thrive even. Why couldn’t it be that easy for Caroline? When she’d relied on God by trusting Him to provide a long, happy life with Ted, she’d come up short.

She bit the corner of her lip. Thanks to Rodney, she was now aware she was doing it. She plucked a few more loose threads away from the quilt and ran the seam ripper under more, cutting their hold to the fabric.

Lilies were lucky.
“And so are you, Caroline. ‘I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.’ ”
The words popped into her head like they’d been whispered in her ear. She shrugged it off. She’d studied that verse how many times over the years in Bible study? The name of the quilt just brought it to the forefront of her mind.
“ ‘Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.’ ”

Caroline exhaled and her burdensome thoughts rushed from her mind like the stale air from her body. This quilt wasn’t perfect. It boasted crooked seams and misalignment of blocks, yet it was beautiful and, by the wear of the fabric, served its purpose. With her help, it’d continue to do so.