Stitches in love
W
A Story about Love and God's Blessing
Rose's heart sank to her toes as she fanned herself. Grandma Jackie tilted back in the rocker, her pale face such a contrast to the red-flowered upholstery where she'd laid her head. Her blank blue eyes appeared to stare out the living room window without seeing the ripe fruit on the peach tree or the red rhododendron in the yard.
Rose expected to smell the scent of peach cobbler wafting through the house. Grandma loved to cook and often took gourmet dishes to shut-ins. Today, she looked like one, and the room had a sick, stale odor to it. Rose bent down and touched Grandma's thin hand. The skin stretched over bone and bulging blood vessels. What had happened to the Grandma who taught her to jitterbug?
"Hi. I'm home for the whole month of June. I'm coming to visit you every day."
Grandma Jackie lifted her head ever so slightly toward Rose, but she didn't utter a word, and no signs of life flickered in her eyes.
Rose stood and weakness swept over her like a hurricane coming ashore. She let herself out and locked the door with the key Grandma Jackie had given her seven years ago—the year Rose had turned sixteen. Sobs erupted from the depths of her soul as she slipped into her two-door coupe and drove to 143 Broadway.
Within minutes she walked toward the white-columned two-story home while she bent double holding her stomach. It was a hot, dry day in Springdale, Georgia. No breeze stirred, and the humidity as high as a kite. Air conditioning caressed Rose's face when she opened the front door. Clearing the foyer, she hurried up the oak staircase to her room. Tears flooding her eyes blurred the flowers on the pink and green comforter as she stepped to it and fell face-down on the bed.
Amy, Rose's mama, had called last week about Grandma Jackie's health. Rose could hear her distressed words now.
"Mama hasn't been the same since Dad died. She's been slipping away little by little. The
doctors say nothing is wrong other than high blood pressure and cholesterol, but she's just not herself I've hired Miz Mary Clark, a local caretaker, to come during the day to make sure she takes her medicine and to tend to her personal needs."
That's why Rose had come home to see Grandma Jackie. It was worse than she had suspected. There must be something someone could do. She sat up and wiped her cheeks. What if she picked the peaches off the tree and told Grandma Jackie to make a pie? No. The last time Rose talked to Grandma Jackie on the phone she'd told Rose cooking at the homeless shelter wore her out.
Doing things for others pleased Grandma Jackie, but maybe she'd reached a time when she needed others to do something for her. What? She liked to read, but that wouldn't make her want to live. Sweat popped out on Rose's forehead. What did Grandma Jackie love enough to get up and do every day?
Rose balled her hands into fists and beat them on the pillow. Tears started building again, but she had to be strong like Mama and Dot. Would Dot work in the shop today? Could she help? Stay focused. Would Grandma e-mail and blog if she had a computer? Rose couldn't help but laugh. Some Grandmas maybe, but not her Grandma, the one who loved to sew and quilt.
Rose gasped. That was it. Grandma loved to quilt as much as she'd once loved life itself. She'd made quilts for the needy, quilts to raffle off to support charities and quilts for the elderly in nursing homes. She'd given it up when Grandpa Joe grew ill five years ago, but the community needed her quilts. It was a wonder no one was asking for one.
Excitement ran through Rose like electricity. She bounded off the bed, throwing items from her closet floor. The teddy bear Jake Wells, her fiancé, gave her when they went to the county fair in high school landed softly on the pale green carpet. She picked it up, hugged it and set it gently back in the closet. She tossed out two old tennis shoes and a pair of swim fins.
Finally. There it was, stuffed in the corner like a useless sack of clay with no potter.
Rose's hand trembled as she pulled open the white ribbon drawstring on the red velvet bag. The scraps, the treasures Grandma had given her, lay neatly folded, stacked and compressed. There must have been a hundred. Her enthusiasm dwindled like a flame dying. She couldn't sew.
But Mama could. If only she would take the time. Rose rushed from the bedroom and made tracks to Amy's Flower Shop, which sat beside the house in front of acres of hot houses. The back door squeaked when Rose opened it.
Mama stood in front of the only clean space on the large work counter, floral picks, shears and clay to her right; a stack of foam blocks, tape and the hand mister to her left. With her smooth, long hand she held a brown-eyed Susan. She picked up the shears and snipped the flower at an angle then plucked another from the pile in front of her.
"Oh, my heart just can't bear it. You have to help."
Rose's mother jumped then turned to face her. "I thought you were the UPS delivery person, setting the supplies I ordered beside the door. What on earth are you talking about?"
"Grandma Jackie. I went over there this morning. She looks awful."
"Honey, your eyes are swollen and red. Have you been crying?"
"How can I not cry with Grandma Jackie in the shape she's in, just sitting like a zombie in that rocking chair? Oh, how can you stand it? She's your mother. You have to do something."
Rose's mama stuck two of the yellow flowers with brown centers into a green vase then moved them around. "What else can I do? I've taken her to the doctor. He's prescribed medicine, and I've hired Miz Mary to make sure she takes it."
"Oh, don't you see. She needs a reason to get out of that rocking chair. If you'd make a quilt top--
Dot appeared out of thin air. She put her hand on her trim hip.
As upset as Rose was, she hadn't noticed Dot. The woman had helped Mama in the shop and in the house for as long as Rose could remember.
"Miss Rose, how do you think your mama's going to get out all these orders for flowers and make a quilt top?" Dot ran her thin hand through her dyed blond hair. "All that education hasn't helped you a bit. What's that fancy degree you're gettin' over at the University of Mississippi?"
Mama glared at Dot. "When she graduates she'll have a PhD in education." Mama tilted her chin up. "She's going to be an elementary school principal. She's not going to stand on her feet all day like I have."
Dot's blue eyes widened. "That's my point. She's took leave of her senses thinkin' you can do anything more than this."
"I'll help. I promise I will. I can't sew, but—"
"Right. You're sweet as molasses, but you can't do much of anything." Dot blew out her mouth.
Rose couldn't hold back her tears. "Yes, I can. I'll do whatever Mama tells me."
"You look like your mama with all those blond curls and those big blue eyes. Built like her too, nice and trim like a model, but when it comes to gettin' anything done, you gone and took after your daddy."
"Where is daddy?"
Mama knitted her eyebrows. "Doa-ah-att. There you go again insinuating Ralph's not a productive person. He got up at four-thirty this morning and left at five o'clock to deliver wholesale flowers to the florists we service. He'll be back in three or four days."
Mama picked up another brown-eyed Susan. "I think Rose may be on to something. Mama would as soon quilt as eat when she was younger. If there's anything that might give her the will to live, quilting could. Let's make one top to get her interest. We'll tell her we need it quilted by the July fourth picnic a month from now to get her moving. As long as the design's not too complicated, we can finish it tonight." Mama held the flower in mid-air. "But what are we going to use for scraps?"
Rose wiped her eyes. "I have Grandma Jackie's."
Mama snipped a green stem and added the flower to the arrangement. "Yes, in that bag she gave you when Dad got sick. I'd forgotten about that. Okay, pick up the material and batting. After you've washed and pressed the fabric, come get Dot. The two of you can get started."
"Least we don't have to cook Ralph's supper. We can work on the quilt top and fix us a sandwich." Dot hung her head. "I hate ta' see Miz Jackie in the shape she's in too. I'd like us to do this, Miss Rose, as long as you do your part, so your mama won't be completely exhausted."
Rose hugged Dot. "I will. You'll see."
Five years older than Amy, Dot had married Troy Raines before she finished high school. By the time Dot was twenty-two, Troy had left her with three kids to raise. Grandma Jackie hired Dot and let the children and her live rent-free in a little apartment built onto the side of the flower shop. Dot had always been like a protective older sister when it came to Amy.
Having her around was almost like having two Mamas, but there was only one Grandma Jackie, and she'd made a point of letting Rose know Rose was special. When Rose was in high school, Grandma Jackie took her shopping all the way to Atlanta for the latest styles. She talked Amy into letting Rose go places Amy might not have agreed to. Grandma Jackie and her best friend, Nellie Jones, took Rose and three friends to the beach at Gulf Shores, Alabama, the summer before they started high school.
She had to be all right. Rose left the house, went to the fabric store, returned then washed
and pressed the material within two hours. By now, Mama probably had convinced Dot the quilt was a great idea.
Rose opened the back door to the shop. "Dot, I'm ready to cut out the squares."
Oh yeah, Dot was all smiles.
"I'm a comin'."
The two of them sat on the gray commercial carpet in Amy's sewing room and pulled the scraps out of the red velvet bag.
Dot fingered the last piece of material, brown with a tiny green line in it. She put it back in the bag. "That's for another quilt. We gotta' keep this simple. What were you thinking?"
"Let's use red, white and blue squares and put fireworks in the middle of the quilt. We'll create
an explosion of colors from lots of scraps. Each one of them means so much to Grandma Jackie." Rose scooted the bag underneath the wooden table Mama used for cutting patterns.
I don't give you enough credit. You're smart like your mama. I'll make several patterns to use to create the fireworks. Are you sure you can cut all those little slivers?"
"Yes."
"Of course, you can. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so hard on you."
"I understand. I know how Mama wears herself out working, and I know how much you love her."
Tears welled up in Dot's blue eyes. "She coulda' thrown us out when Miz Jackie gave her the shop. Why the day I heard Amy had taken over my heart nearly stopped. I'll never forget it."
"Mama wouldn't do that."
Dot blinked. "I know she wouldn't. I'm so grateful to her."
"Things have worked out fine for both of you."
"Yes. All right, here's the pattern, and here's a pair of scissors. I'll be cutting squares while you snip slivers. Maybe we'll have this done when your mama comes in tonight."
"We will." Rose sat on the floor and cut as precisely as she could. She recalled the origins of some of the scraps, but drew a blank with others as the thumbed through them then cut pieces off as many swatches as possible.
The machine hummed as Dot sewed together all of the squares. The ones with tiny pieces of multi-colored shades of blue, green, gold and red shot up in the fireworks image.
Rose stood and stretched, arching her back, as her mama entered and plopped down in the white wicker chair in the corner.
"Let me get my breath for a minute." Amy wiped her forehead.
Dot got up. "I'll sew or make sandwiches."
Rose jumped like she'd been stuck with a pin at the thought of Dot halting work on the quilt top. "Keep sewing, and Mama, you rest. I'll fix the food. Do you want me to call you or bring it here?"
Mama got up, meandered to the sewing machine and peered at the squares. She glanced at Rose. "We'll eat in here."
Within twenty minutes Rose placed a tray of sandwiches and lemonade on the wooden worktable and set three plates. Dot brought folding chairs from the small closet, and they sat down.
Mama took a bite of her turkey sandwich. "This is so good." She lifted a corner of the
bread. "You put pineapple on here."
Rose raised her eyebrows and nodded. "I'm glad you like it."
Mama took another bite. "What should we do about the border? Something simple."
"I bought enough material to make two sides white, one red and one blue."
"That's a great idea." Mama swallowed the last of her dinner. "I'll add the border." She cut her gaze at Rose. "If you'll press it in the morning, we'll take it tomorrow afternoon after church." She looked from Rose to Dot. "Would you like to go with us?"
"Sure."
***
Rose, Dot and Amy tip-toed into Grandma's living room. She sat tilted back in the red-flowered rocker like yesterday, her face pale, her eyes distant. Rose wondered if she'd moved, though Miz Mary would have made sure she'd taken her medicine and gone to bed.
Rose carried the top, folded with the fireworks pattern exposed, and laid it in Grandma's lap. "We want you to quilt this for our July fourth picnic."
Grandma raised her head, a puzzled look flickering in her blue eyes. Then she touched the material, ran her hand over it, leaned over and stared. She straightened up slowly and glanced from Rose to Amy then Dot.
She fingered a piece of light green polished cotton, and tears pooled up in her eyes. "I made a dress for Amy out of this when she was five years old."
"I remember. I loved it." Now Mama's eyes got misty.
Grandma's thin hand moved to a piece of royal blue satin. "I wore a dress made out of
this when Joe and I went to his Christmas office party in 1992."
"And this gold—" Her breath hitched—"my dress for your wedding." She reached out and hugged Mama.
"I'll be right back." Dot stepped out of the room then returned with the wooden quilting frame.
Within an hour Mama and Dot had set it up and had the quilt rolled on it with the fireworks displayed. Grandma Jackie sat down in a chair, picked up a needle, and pushed it up and down with her nimble fingers. She repeated the action, pulling the thread through, creating a rhythm as she sewed tiny stitches equal distances from each other.
"God bless that quilt," Dot said.
***
Thursday Rose walked in Grandma Jackie's living room with a basket of peaches she'd picked off the tree in the front yard. "I'm going to make a peach cob—" Joy ran up her spine like lightning as visions from the beach trip she'd made as a teen with Grandma and Nellie popped in her head. There sat Grandma's best friend, "Hello, Nellie." She rushed over and gave her a hug.
Nellie stopped working her chubby, wrinkled fingers. "You gonna' cook us a pie with those?"
"Yes, you ladies keep quilting. I'll be in the kitchen."
Nellie's guttural laugh rang out, happiness dancing in her brown eyes. "Sounds good. We'll finish this quilt and go to the picnic with you and your family. I'm sewing a new top for us. When you go back to school, Miz Mary will get our lunch."
Rose took happy steps to the kitchen.
origannaly published in the anthology Sweet Freedom with a slice of peach cobbler.
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