Sister's Choice (15 page)

Ben appeared and motioned for her to join him. She wished the stairs were longer, steeper. She wished this day had never begun.

When she reached the top, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and not gently. “She wants to see you alone. Don’t you say anything to her that will make her go faster, you hear me?”

Grace shook off his hand, her eyes narrowed. “If you hadn’t gotten her pregnant again, Ben Cashel, then none of this would be happening. So don’t you bully me.”

He looked as if she had struck him, and his hand dropped to his side. Grace felt a stab of remorse, but it was too late to take back her words.

“I’m going in,” she said in a softer tone. “You stay nearby, in case you’re needed.”

“I never wanted this.”

She didn’t know if that was an explanation or a plea for understanding. Whatever it was, it was unlike the Ben Cashel she knew. Since she didn’t know what he meant, she didn’t know how to answer. She just shrugged, took a deep breath and went to stand in the doorway.

The room was nearly dark, and her eyes adjusted slowly. A walnut four-poster bed took up the entire middle of the room, which was sparsely furnished. There was plenty of empty space for more, since the room was expansive and airy. A feed-store calendar was the only adornment on the walls, which, like the hallway, were covered in fading wallpaper from another era.

The room was spotlessly clean. That didn’t surprise Grace, since Anna was one to put cleanliness above godliness, without a thought for the eternal ramifications. She stepped inside, then closer to the bed. Anna was huddled under quilts, lying flat, with her knees raised, most likely propped on pillows. Grace suspected that was meant to slow the bleeding. She felt such a rush of sympathy for her sister that she could barely breathe. Nobody deserved this.

“Oh, Anna.” She went to the bedside and leaned over so that her sister could see her. “Oh, Anna, I’m so very sorry.”

Anna’s eyelids opened. Slowly, as if this was a sacrifice beyond measure. “Are you?”

Grace perched on the edge of the feather mattress. Dark-haired Anna had always had rosy, almost feverishly flushed skin, but now her cheeks were drained of all color. She was scarecrow thin; her two pregnancies had seemed invasive, as if the child inside her was at war with her long, prominent bones. Now Anna looked almost skeletal, and her eyes were the only things that still seemed alive.

“Of course I’m sorry,” Grace said. “I’ve never wished you harm, even if we haven’t always gotten along.”

“Always?” Anna made a sound that was almost a laugh, although not a pleasant one. “You always hated…everything I tried to do. Selfish…never cared for anybody…but yourself.”

Grace wondered if her sister had really called her to her deathbed to deliver yet another lecture in the series she’d begun in Grace’s early childhood.

“Let’s put that behind us,” Grace said carefully, remembering the doctor’s words. She wondered how she could have been foolish enough to think maybe Anna wanted forgiveness.

“Oh…I’ll be putting it…behind me soon enough.”

“Is this the baby?” Grace slipped off the bed to view the tiny bundle wrapped and motionless in the old wooden cradle by the window.

“Never mind him. I got some…thing to say to you…and not much time.”

“Anna, don’t let go yet. Mama and Papa are on their way. You got to hang on.”

“Don’t care…about them. You got to listen…now.”

Grace went back to the bedside, having seen nothing of her new nephew except the tiniest upturned nose. “What? Just tell me.”

“You got to do something. Got to, you under…stand?” Anna wheezed, and if possible, grew paler.

Grace saw a cloth in the washing bowl on a nightstand and wrung it out to wipe her sister’s brow. “Whatever you need, Anna. Take a moment. Breathe deep.”

Somehow Anna found the strength to push Grace’s hand away. “Listen to me! Ben…can’t raise these boys alone. Not and keep the land. You saw…what happened to Papa. That’ll…happen to Ben, too. He’ll lose it all.” She coughed, and for a moment, she was silent.

Grace knew better than to speak. Clearly there was nothing she could say that her sister wanted to hear.

“You’ve got to marry him.”

Anna’s words had been so soft, Grace thought she must have misunderstood. “Anna, what did you say?”

“You…got to marry Ben. I know…you’re sweet on that…Tom Stoneburner. But this…it’s the only way. Ben can’t keep the boys and the orchard. His family’s all gone. He’s got nobody. And Mama can’t take the boys. She’s too old, and…there won’t be room…where they’re going. Ben wouldn’t…just give them…away. He’ll hang on, but there’s…nobody else can help. Just you. And you can’t…be staying up here with him. Not without a wedding.”

Grace stared at her sister, who was growing paler by the moment. “No, Anna. Mama and Papa can move up here and take over. Papa can help Ben, Mama can raise the boys. I’m sure they’ll want to—”

“No!” Anna coughed, but continued muttering through it. “They couldn’t even raise you! Too old. Don’t care…Papa let the farm go. Could save it, but he doesn’t…want to work that hard. In Delaware, he’ll help Luther a little…in his garage, Mama will do a little helping out at Luther’s house…but that’s all they’ll want. They’d be no help…here. Won’t come…even if Ben asks. And he won’t.”

Grace realized Anna was right. Her parents
had
given up a long time ago. They were old, exhausted, beaten down. The hard work here would finish them off quickly. That was why they had chosen to live out their final years at their oldest son’s home in Delaware. Luther, who owned his own garage, was the most prosperous of their children, the most likely to give them some ease.

“I can stay a while, and help Ben,” she said. “Until he finds somebody to live in and care for the boys.”

“Nobody…will. You know that. Anybody young enough…to do it…wouldn’t be up here alone…with a young man like Ben. You know…what people will say? And besides…they’ve all gone out to work. Anybody strong enough to do this work, they’re…already working somewhere better. It’s Tom…isn’t it?”

“Anna, this doesn’t have anything to do with Tom. I can’t marry Ben any which way. You can’t expect me to give up my whole life. If Ben loses the orchard, so be it. He can find work somewhere. He’s strong and able. And the boys will be—”

“Are you…so selfish…you don’t see what’s coming? There’s going…to be a war!” Anna fell silent, breathing hard, and her eyelids closed. Grace leaped to her feet, but before she could get the doctor, Anna recovered enough to open them a little. “You think what’s happening…in Europe won’t come here? What…will happen to my babies…their daddy’s called to fight? There’s only one way to fix this…you have to do what I say. You have to marry Ben. Stay up here with him, ’til the boys are old enough not to need you. Then you…can leave. I don’t…expect you to stay forever. You’re not that kind of…woman. But are you the kind…that can do what she has to…even if it’s not…what she wants?”

Grace heard the door creak, and in a moment Ben was beside her. By his expression, she knew he had heard Anna’s plea. He looked like a man being torn in two.

“Anna, you don’t have to worry about me and the boys,” he said, bending low to make sure she heard him. Anna’s eyes were closed again, but her eyelids fluttered when he spoke to her. “I can take care of things. There’s always a way. I swear to you the boys will be well looked after, and this orchard will still be ours when it’s time for them to take over.”

“Grace…you bring that Bible?” Anna whispered.

Grace wondered if Anna wanted her to read from it. “I’m sorry. It’s down the road in the truck. The truck broke down and I had to walk up here, and I was afraid it would be ruined.”

“Get our Bible, Ben…” Anna’s eyes opened. “Now, ’fore it’s too late.”

Ben glanced at Grace. She shrugged, and he left the room, returning quickly with a worn Bible that had clearly been in his family for many years.

“Do you want me to read something to you?” he asked.

“Grace…put your hand on that Bible. Ben, you, too. Both of you swear…to me that you will do…what I ask. Swear it…right now…so I can die in peace.”

Grace looked at him. Ben said nothing, but his expression said everything. She had never seen real emotion in his eyes until today—nor had she looked for any. But now she saw torment. His wife was dying, and despite what Grace thought of this marriage, clearly he loved her sister. He was about to lose her, and probably the baby she had just brought into the world. There was only one thing he could do to help her before she died.

Grace wondered if God would strike her dead, too, if she put her hand on his Holy Word and told a lie. But which was worse? Telling the truth and watching her sister die in turmoil? Or lying, and hoping that God would understand why she had done it?

“For once…think of somebody but yourself….” Anna’s gaze locked with Grace’s. “I tried…to teach you what I could…Grace. I know…I didn’t do it right. But Mama and Papa…they weren’t going…to teach you a thing. It was my duty. And now…this is yours.”

I know I didn’t do it right
. For a moment Grace wondered if this was the apology she had hoped for. She was sure this was as close as her sister would ever come, yet her own sense of relief was out of proportion to the simple words. Still, for a moment nothing mattered except that Anna knew she had made mistakes.

No, something else mattered, too. Anna had tried to teach Grace right from wrong, because in her own rigid and limited way, she’d cared what happened to her. When their parents had given up caring about anything, Anna had still cared enough to try.

“Ben…” Anna turned her head to look at him. “You got to do what I ask.”

Grace watched him struggle for the right thing to say. In that agonizing moment, she knew what she had to do. No matter the consequence.

“Give me the Bible, Ben.” She held out her hand.

When he didn’t immediately hand it over, she took it from him. Then she set it on the bed beside her sister, and she put her hand on top of it.

“Ben, you put your hand here, too,” Grace said. “Do it now.”

He looked at her to see if she was serious. She wondered if he could tell this was only a motion she was going through to ease her sister’s journey into the hereafter. But whether he did or not, after a long hesitation, he put his hand beside hers.

“Anna,” Grace said. “Can you hear me?”

Anna gave a slight nod.

“I swear to you I’ll marry Ben and make sure your boys are brought up to be healthy, Godfearing and strong. Ben?”

His voice was low. “I swear I’ll marry Grace, if that’s what you want.”

“It…is…”

Grace snatched back her hand, as if the flames of hell resided between the book’s tattered leather covers.

“Leave us now,” Ben said, his eyes fixed on his wife’s face.

Grace didn’t know exactly what to do, so she did the one thing that seemed right. She leaned over, and she kissed Anna’s cheek. She could not remember ever kissing her sister before.

Anna’s eyes opened. “You’d…better…mean what you said.”

“Or you’ll come back to haunt me?”

“You never…did take…anything serious enough.”

Grace thought it was appropriate that her sister’s last words to her were an indictment of her character. “God be with you, Anna.”

Outside the bedroom, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She didn’t open them until she heard the door open and close downstairs, and her parents appeared. Even now, they moved slowly, as if each step was weighted by a lifetime of labor and cares. But no matter how fast they might have moved, it was already too late. By the time they went in to see their oldest daughter for the last time, Ben was sitting on a chair beside Anna’s bed, his head in his hands, weeping.

A
ccording to Hannah, this morning was going to be as exciting as Christmas. Last night she had tossed and turned on the top bunk as she tried to fall asleep. And when Jamie’s own eyes finally closed, she could still hear her oldest daughter trying hard to make morning come faster.

Now the moment had arrived and they were on their way to Grace’s house, where they were going to choose fabric for their very own quilts. Then, after they had settled on colors and prints, they were going to take Grace to the Shenandoah Community Church Wednesday morning quilting bee, where the girls could play with Bridget, Reese and Bridget’s brother Rory while the women quilted. Jamie had warned them that, yes, while it was going to be a wonderful morning, there was a lot entailed in finishing a quilt. This was just the very beginning, and they weren’t to expect much progress. It would be enough in the hour before they all drove to the church together if they could just pick out some fabric they liked.

“I am partial to green,” Hannah mused out loud. “And purple. Queens wear purple, and sometimes I am a princess.”

“Granny Grace loves purple and green together,” Jamie said. “She’ll help you.”

“I like blue!” Alison shouted. “Very, very, very blue! Like the sky. Like stars.”

“Stars aren’t blue,” Hannah said. “What makes you think stars are blue?”

“Blue bright! I see them at night.”

“That rhymes,” Jamie said, hoping to avoid an argument. “Alison’s writing a poem. ‘Blue bright, I see them at night.’ Let’s see what else goes with that.”

They worked on the poem for the rest of the trip to Grace’s. By the time they arrived they had six stanzas, none of which made any more sense than the first but all of which were lilting on the tongue.

Attending the church quilting bee this morning had been Jamie’s idea. Elisa Kinkade had stopped by on Sunday, and when Jamie told her that she was going to make each twin a baby quilt, Elisa had urged Jamie to give the bee a try.

“I wish I’d thought of it before,” she’d said, “but I didn’t know you were interested in quilting. It’s a social occasion, and you need to meet some people.” She had carefully refrained from inviting Jamie to attend church services, for which Jamie was grateful. She wasn’t sure yet she was ready for
that
step, but the quilting bee would be perfect. And once she’d discovered there were children there who played together while their mothers worked, she had been hooked.

Hooking Grace had been a little harder.

“I’ve heard Helen Henry is their star member,” Grace said. “I think that means I won’t be welcomed.”

“How can you say that? It’s a church group. I’m not much acquainted with religion, but isn’t everybody welcome in a church?”

“You’re not from here, dear. You have no idea how long memories are. They stretch to the farthest star and back again, and then only as a warm-up. Helen and I were not friends as girls. That means we won’t be friends now.”

Jamie hadn’t been able to restrain her curiosity. “Did she hold your marriage to Ben against you? Was she a friend of your sister’s and angry that he married you so quickly after she died?”

“No, it had nothing to do with Ben. Let’s just say that Helen never quite saw things that were right under her nose, and she’s still never realized it, either. She’s one of those women who is sure of everything, even when the facts she’s based her opinions on are completely wrong.”

“Maybe she’s changed. Cissy and her family live with her now, and they seem perfectly happy. Could be this is the right moment to let bygones be bygones.”

“My gones went by a long time ago. Life’s too short to hold grudges. But not everyone shares that attitude.”

Jamie smiled sympathetically, just a shade
too
sympathetically. “Okay, I see your point. We certainly don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If Mrs. Henry makes you feel unwelcome, then I can understand why you would back off and let her win the day.”

“I am perfectly aware what you’re up to.”

“Is it working?”

“We’ll give the bee a try.”

“We need more friends, and the girls will have a wonderful time.”

Now, as she pulled to a stop in front of the old blue farmhouse, Jamie hoped Grace hadn’t changed her mind. And when Grace stepped out on the porch to greet them, it was clear she hadn’t. She was dressed in one of her more outrageous outfits—bright red capris, a hip-length purple T-shirt with a glittery fruit salad sprinkled across it, what looked like a pound of gold-and-silver charm bracelets and matching earrings that nearly grazed her shoulders. At least her spiky hair wasn’t as visible as usual. It was covered in a platinum beret set at a jaunty angle.

“I see you’re all ready to quilt,” Jamie said.

“If they tar and feather me, they’ll have to do it in style.”

“I’m sure they’ll only use peacock feathers.” Jamie kissed Grace’s cheek, then stepped back as Grace welcomed the girls. Of course, the first thing they had to do was visit Lucky, who was no longer a tiny, fragile fawn but was sturdy now, sporting a brand-new red collar and acting curious about everything.

“I limit her visitors,” Grace said, as the girls stepped into the pen where Lucky seemed perfectly contented. “I really don’t want her to feel she’s one of us. But the local deer are curious. She’ll fit in nicely when the time comes. Of course, if my family develops every inch of this property as they’re planning to one day, then there won’t be a bit of room for anything on four legs, will there?”

“How’s the orchard going?”

“I’m well beyond the age when I can drive a tractor or prune a tree, but I’ve been able to keep tabs on our workers and make a few improvements. They’re good men, but they have no incentive to do their best. They’ve been left on their own too long and have fallen into sloppy habits. We need a better manager, but so far, I’ve yet to find the right person. And, of course, my children are unwilling to commit to anybody long-term, which makes it harder.”

“I don’t think Cash wants to see the land developed.”

“None of them do, not really. But they’re aware that even if somebody buys the property and says they’ll continue growing apples, their word won’t be enough. We’ve all seen shady deals go down that way. Developers are not above using shills to get what they want.”

The girls finished their visit and said goodbye to Lucky. Grace promised they could take her for a walk next time, and that was good enough for them.

Inside, Grace started right in, since they wanted to be at the church at ten when the bee started. Elisa was planning to introduce them to the others, so for now they only had an hour at the house, and the girls were ready to go.

Forty-five minutes later, every scrap of Grace’s fabric had been examined and a fair amount of it had been sorted into new piles. Alison had, as promised, stuck to blue, although Grace had convinced her that prints that were “mostly blue” were blue enough, so she had a rich assortment of shades and patterns. Hannah had ranged further, immediately falling in love with a bright print of wizard children casting spells. Grace had showed her how to match colors in the print with other fabrics. Her pile might glow in the dark, but Grace promised that when the prints were toned down with a neutral background, the quilt would be lovely.

Jamie had let Grace take the lead with the girls, but she, too, had browsed through fabric looking for ideas. Kendra was coming up for the afternoon to visit the doctor with her, and Jamie and the girls were invited for lunch beforehand. Maybe she could shop for fabric in Front Royal after the appointment, or later on the Internet, so as not to diminish Grace’s stash too heavily. The girls were working with scraps, but she needed larger pieces.

“Finding anything you like?” Grace asked.

“I found the Sister’s Choice pattern online, like you said I probably would, and even found a layout I could print and color to work out fabric placement.”

“Good. I have a computer program that will tell you how much of each piece of fabric you’ll need.”

“Wow, high tech. The Web site gave some estimates, too.”

“You’ll be safe enough buying what you think you’ll need and some extra just in case. And sometimes, when you run out of fabric, substitutions make the quilt come alive.”

Jamie refolded a fabric with what looked like fifties housewives washing dishes. “I think Kendra and Isaac are going to want to know the sex of the babies, although they’re arguing over that. But that won’t happen for a couple of months, so I want something unisex, something that’ll pop and make the babies take notice.”

“Now you’re thinking like a quilter. What colors were you drawn to?”

“One quilt in red, black and white, I think. Something graphic. Then I saw a quilt in one of the magazines you loaned me made out of bright citrus prints. Lime green, lemon yellow, orange…orange.”

“I love both ideas. And not at all alike.”

“No, I’m going to use different color strategies, too, to make the patterns look different. The babies are individuals. The quilts should be individual, as well.”

“They’ll be wonderful. I’m impressed you’ve done so much thinking about this.”

Jamie glanced at the sewing-room clock, a sassy Betty Boop who swiveled her hips as the pendulum swung back and forth. “We’d better go.” She finished helping the girls pile their fabric into two cubbyholes that Grace had cleared just for them. While she did, Grace gathered up a small quilt she was working on to take to the bee with her. It was many shades of yellow and gold pieced into fractured sunflowers Picasso would have understood perfectly.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Grace asked. “Aren’t you spending enough time with old ladies?”

“Nice try. Elisa’s going to be there, and Kate Brogan, and maybe Cissy. There’ll be an assortment of ages.”

“I hope you’ll be willing to throw your body into the fray if Helen Stoneburner Henry goes after me.”

“Someday you’ll tell me what this is about, won’t you?”

“It’s quite basic. Helen thinks I broke her brother Tom’s heart. And she’s never forgiven me.”

“You were in love?”

“Helen is convinced he was in love with me and that I led him on.”

“And he never got over you?”

“Poor Tom never had time to do much of anything. He died in the war, and so did their older brother, Obed. I think Helen held that against me, too. Ben came home, they didn’t, and unfortunately, neither did her husband. I can’t remember his name. Ray? No, Fate, which was short for something, I suppose. I didn’t know him well, but I do remember he died at Pearl Harbor. She lost so many of the men she loved, and I went on to have a full life with Ben.”

Jamie guided both daughters toward the door. “A lot of years have passed, Grace. Just give her a chance.”

“Jamie, dear. You’re young enough to think giving chances can work a miracle. I’m afraid I’m not so confident anymore. But we’ll go and see. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The women were just finishing their business meeting when Grace and crew walked in. The circle was small, and moving chairs to join them would have been a disruption. They stood in the back and waited until the minutes had been read, but Grace did an assessment to pass the time.

The room was a generous size. Beams across the ceiling indicated that walls had fallen to a sledgehammer and several smaller rooms had been combined. She could see that the group was trying to encourage young mothers. There was an area at one end with shelves stocked with children’s books and toys, and a glass door led outside to a fenced-in play area with some low-key climbing equipment. The other side of the room was reserved for serious quilting. A flannel-backed design wall where quilters could put up blocks or tops for better viewing covered one smaller wall. A large quilt frame rested to one side of a wall of deep cabinets. Small quilts, one a large design of a beehive, brightened the walls.

Grace had been a regular at the large guild in Northern California where she had gone to live after Ben’s death. She had chaired committees and once the annual quilt show that had brought in so many attendees they’d been forced to hire additional security to protect the quilts from enthusiastic viewers. She had won prizes in competitions, done trunk shows of her own creations and taught classes in technique. She’d been blithely unaware of herself throughout all those events, secure in what she knew and how she was regarded. But here at home? Where she had been raised and raised her own brood?

She felt like a stranger.

Once the minutes—surprisingly short—had been read, a lovely Latina woman stood and came back to greet them. Grace knew from Jamie’s description that this had to be Elisa Kinkade, wife of the church’s pastor. Manning and Sandra attended this church, and Grace had attended a few times herself, but Sam Kinkade had come after her years here and married Elisa several years after settling in. In a community as small as this one, everything the new minister had done since then was fodder for gossip.

“We have first-time visitors,” Elisa told the group of twelve women. Grace listened as Elisa warmly introduced Jamie and her daughters, explaining that she was Kendra Taylor’s sister and now lived on the Taylors’ property in a brand-new cabin.

Then she smiled at Grace. “And some of you already know Grace Cashel, I’m sure. She lived here for many years, well before I did. She’s a long-time quilter, and I’ve heard she’s well-known on the West Coast for her beautiful art quilts. I hope she’ll bring some to show us. I can’t wait to see them.”

Grace’s gaze flicked to Helen Henry, who had turned in her chair right away to see what the fuss was all about. Helen had aged in the years Grace had been away—just as Grace herself had—but now she was less relentlessly dowdy. Her thin white hair was nicely cut to give it a little bulk, and she appeared to have lost enough weight to make a difference in her health. She wore a pink-and-gray knit jogging suit that didn’t look as if it had come straight from a resale shop and glasses set in gold frames that actually suited her square face.

As she watched, Helen’s eyes narrowed, then she turned to face front again. So much for bygones.