The Scarlet Thread (5 page)

scene, each framed with an edging of brown, and all stitched together with vibrant scarlet thread. Each picture block was surrounded by a different stitch: blanket, crosses, herringbone,

doves, fern, olive branches, feather, open cretan, fly, zigzag

chain, wheatear and sheaf filling stitches, Portuguese border,

and star eyelets.

“It’s beautiful,” Sierra said, wishing she could have it.

“If I’d known it was here, I would have had it cleaned and

hung on the living room wall years ago,” her mother said.

Sierra looked at the squares one by one. Along the top row was

a homestead with a man, a woman, and three children. Two boys

and a girl stood in the open space between the cabin and barn.

The second square was bright with consuming flames. The third

showed a baby in a manger, a young girl watching over him

while darkness surrounded them both.

The telephone rang downstairs. A second later, the portable

phone rang from nearby. Sierra’s mother handed her the other

end of the quilt and went to pick up the phone from the top of a

box and answer it.

“Yes, she’s here, Alex.”

Sierra’s heart lurched. Hands trembling again, she folded the

quilt while listening to her mother’s side of the conversation.

“Yes, she told me. Yes, but that’s to be expected, Alex.” Her

mother’s tone held no condemnation or disappointment. She was

silent for a long moment, listening again. “I know that, Alex,” she

said very gently, her voice husky with emotion, “and I’ve always

been thankful. You don’t have to explain.” Another silence. “So

soon,” her mother said, resigned. “How are your parents taking

it? Oh. Well, I imagine it’s going to be a shock to them as well.”

She smiled faintly. “Of course, Alex. You know I will. Let me

know after you’ve spoken to them, and I’ll call.”

Marianna cupped her hand over the receiver. “Alex wants to

talk to you.”

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that would put her mother between them. She laid the folded

quilt back over the trunk and crossed the attic to take the phone

from her mother’s hand.

“I’ll make us some coffee,” her mother said with a gentle smile.

Sierra watched her go down the stairs, knowing her mother

was allowing her privacy to speak with Alex. She felt a tangle of

emotions, from relief to despair. Her mother hadn’t said one

word to discourage Alex from his decision. Why not?

“Yes?” she said into the receiver, her voice coming out thin

and choked. She wanted to scream at him and could barely draw

breath past the pain in her chest. Her throat was tight and dry.

“I was worried about you.”

“Were you?” Why should he worry about her just because he

was ripping her life apart? Resentment filled her and hot tears

welled again in her eyes.

“You’re not saying much.”

“What do you want me to say? That I’m
happy?”

He sighed. “I suppose that would be expecting too much, especially considering this is the biggest opportunity of my career.”

She heard the tinge of disappointment and anger in his voice.

What right had he to be angry with her after making a

life-changing decision without so much as hinting it to her?

“I’m sure the children will be thrilled to hear they’re being

uprooted and torn away from their friends and family.”

“We’re
their family.”

“What about Mom? What about your parents?”

“We’re not moving to New York, Sierra.”

“I guess you’re saving that for next year’s big surprise.”

Silence followed. Her heart picked up speed; she could feel his

growing anger.

Stop this now,
an inner voice cautioned her.
Stop before you go too

far. . . .

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She wasn’t interested in stopping. “You might have hinted

what was going on, Alex,” she said, clutching the phone.

“I’ve done more than hint. I told you about this company weeks

ago. I’ve been telling you for the last four years what I want to do.

The problem is you don’t listen.”

“I listen.”

“And never
hear.”

“I do too hear!”

“Then hear
this.
You’ve had it your way for ten years. Maybe,

just for a change, you could cut
me
a little slack.”

Click.

“Alex?” Dead silence filled her ear. Sierra blinked, shocked.

She stared at the phone in her hand as though it had turned to a

venomous snake. Alex had never hung up on her before.

More distressed than when she had arrived, Sierra went

downstairs. The tantalizing aroma of freshly ground caramel au

lait decaf filled the kitchen. Her favorite. So, too, were the

Tollhouse cookies her mother had put on a dessert plate in the

sunny alcove overlooking the back garden. Clearly Mom wanted

to cheer her up. Fat chance.

She plunked the portable phone down on the pretty

flower-embroidered cloth covering the small table and sank

down onto the chair. “He hung up on me.” Her mother poured

coffee for her. “He’s never hung up on me before,” Sierra continued, her voice breaking as she looked up at her mother. He’d

made a decision he knew would tear her life to pieces, and then
he

hung up on
her?
“He said I don’t listen.”

Her mother set the carafe on a sunflower trivet and took the

seat facing her. “Sometimes we only hear what we want to hear.”

She picked up her coffee cup and sipped, distracted.

“You look tired, Mom.”

“I didn’t sleep very well last night. I kept thinking about your

father.” Her mouth curved faintly, her expression softening.

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on television. The house creaks and I awaken, thinking he’s

coming along to bed.” She smiled sadly and looked down into

her coffee as she set the cup back in its porcelain saucer. “I miss

him.”

“I miss him, too.” He might have been able to talk Alex out of

going to Los Angeles.

Her mother lifted her head and looked across at her with gentle humor. “Your father wasn’t an easy man either, Sierra, but he

was worth it.”

“If Alex insists, I’ll go, but I don’t have to smile and pretend to

be happy about it.”

“Maybe not, but it’d be better if you came to terms with his decision. Resentment and anger eat away at love as quickly as rust

is corroding that metal lawn chair out there in the backyard. One

of life’s great tragedies is watching a relationship unravel over

something that could’ve been resolved in one intelligent, adult

conversation.”

Her mother’s words hurt. “One conversation isn’t going to

change Alex’s mind.”

“Then it depends on what you really want.”

Sierra raised tear-soaked eyes to her mother’s clear hazel ones.

“What do you mean?”

Marianna reached out and took her daughter’s hand. “It’s simple, Sierra. Do you want your own way, or do you want Alex?”

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into the car and immediately began vying for her undivided

attention. She was often amused by their antics. Today their

youthful exuberance and competitiveness irritated. As she drove

along Brooks Road toward the foothills, she heard only bits and

pieces of their day, distracted by her own turbulent thoughts.

She longed for a quiet place to lick her wounds.

Her heart began beating a battle rhythm when she saw Alex’s

Honda in the driveway. He never came home before five-thirty.

“Daddy’s home!” Carolyn said, dashing out the car door toward

the front steps, her backpack forgotten in the front seat.

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lift slowly. She drove in, shifted into park, put on the brake, and

turned off the engine—each movement carefully measured and

controlled. “Take Carolyn’s things in, would you please,

Clanton?”

“Let her come out and get ‘em herself.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to help—”

“I’m not her personal servant. Besides, she was just bragging

about girls being better than boys. So let Little Miss Wonderful

carry her own backpack!”

“Don’t argue with me. I’m not in the mood for it.”

Clanton grumbled, but one look at her face silenced further protests. Sierra gathered her own things and followed him into the

kitchen. She could hear Carolyn chattering happily and Alex’s

deep laugh. A sharp pang shot through her, though whether it was

pain or anger she couldn’t tell. Maybe both. How could he laugh

at a time like this? Didn’t he care at all how she felt?

“Why are you home early, Dad?” Clanton’s excited voice carried easily, as did the
thud
of the two backpacks hitting the living

room floor. Alex answered too quietly for her to hear what he

was saying, and she clenched her teeth. As she opened a cabinet

and took a can of coffee down from the shelf, she listened to the

quiet murmur of voices, subdued now. Was he telling the children he had decided to uproot them and take them away from

friends and family? How were they taking it? She knew she

should be there, helping them understand . . . but how could she

do that when she didn’t understand herself? Her hand trembled

as she measured grounds.

Her throat closed tightly when she heard Alex enter the

kitchen. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t and still maintain any

semblance of control. She poured water into the coffeemaker and

then turned her attention to the package of chicken she had left to

thaw on the counter.

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“I’m sorry I hung up on you.” His deep voice was low and

quiet.

Her eyes burned. She removed the plastic wrap from the

chicken and turned on the water. “Did you tell them?”

“Yes.”

She took a thigh from the open package and began washing it

meticulously. “And?”

“Carolyn’s going down to Karen’s house. Clanton’s riding his

bike over to David’s.”

“I never let them go anywhere until they finish their homework.”

“Well, I think this is a day for exceptions to the rule, don’t

you?” He sounded so in control. It grated on her nerves. “I told

them to be home by five.” He leaned against the doorframe and

crossed his arms. “I thought it might be a good idea to have them

both out of the house while we talk things over.”

“Talk?” she said stiffly. “It’s a little late, isn’t it? I was under

the impression you’d already decided everything.”

“Fine,” he said tightly. “We’ll do this your way. We
won’t
talk.”

Glancing back, she saw him go back into the family room. Her

heart pounded heavily, her stomach tightened. It was the second

time today he had flung an unfair accusation at her! She pitched

the last piece of rinsed chicken onto the cutting board, washed

her hands with soap, and slapped off the tap. Snatching the

towel from the oven door handle, she dried her hands quickly,

then flung the towel in the direction of the counter before following him, trembling with anger.

“My
way,” she said. “You’re the one who called and said we’re

moving. Oh, and by the way, Sierra, a Realtor’s coming by tonight to list your home!”

“Our
home,” he corrected, his dark eyes narrowing.

“That’s what I thought until you dropped your bomb!”

“I made a judgment call.”

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