Arlene Sachitano - Quilt As Desired

The small hairs rose on the back of her neck-she knew she couldn't run far in her black dress pumps.

She looked up the other side of the driveway. It was dark. If she could get around the curve, she just might be able to push through the hedge into Mrs. Morse's yard. She turned and started up the drive.

She heard a car door open then footsteps crunching in the gravel. The hedge was a few feet in front of her. The footsteps were getting closer. She reached the hedge and forced her way into the sharp branches. It was an old hedge; and once she was through, the leafless branches closed around her, giving the illusion of safety.

The footsteps stopped then started again. She couldn't see through the wall of leaves. She could envision the robber searching the driveway to see where she went. If he looked closely at the hedge, he would surely see the broken branches where she'd plunged inside.

He stopped again.

Harriet moved the branch in front of her face. She could see his form right in front of her hiding spot. She had to think. She felt around her for something she could use as a weapon-a large branch would have been handy. She carefully bent down and patted the ground by her feet. Her left hand closed over a cold metal pipe. She slowly lifted it. It wasn't a pipe at all. It was an oscillating sprinkler. Probably not the best weapon; but if she swung it with both hands, it should give her enough time to dash back to the house.

The man leaned toward Harriet's hiding place. He must be looking at her point of entrance. She raised the sprinkler as high as she could. Any minute now he would push the branches aside, and she'd have a clear shot.

A hand appeared on her side of the branches, quickly followed by a dark head. Harriet sprang. She hit the man hard.

"Ouch!” he yelled.

Harriet ran for it. She might have gotten away, but he reached up and grabbed her wrist with his free hand. His other was pressed to his forehead, where blood was beginning to seep through his fingers.

"Harriet, it's me-Aiden."

"Aiden?"

"Why did you hit me?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I brought my mother's quilt,” he said. “Like I said I would. Wednesday night. I came earlier, but there was a note on your door that said to come back at nine."

"Aiden,” Harriet said, “I'm so sorry."

"What were you doing running up the driveway like that and then jumping into the hedge? Did you forget to take your medication?"

"No, I did not forget my medication,” she fairly shouted. “What am I saying-I don't have medication. And let go of me."

He dropped his hold on her wrist.

"Mom said you came here to recover,” he said. “Then I see you staggering up the driveway and hopping into a hedge-in a dress. What was I supposed to think?"

"I wasn't staggering. You should try to walk in gravel with heels on. You'd stagger, too."

He moved his hand from his forehead, and blood started trickling down his forehead and onto his nose.

"Oh, my God,” Harriet said. “I've hurt you. Let me look."

He took a step back, avoiding her touch.

"I'm not going to hurt you,” she said.

"I think I'll take my chances and drive home."

"You can't go."

"Is that why you hit me? To make me stay?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I thought you were a robber."

"Of course, you did,” he said, and turned to go.

"Can I at least use your cell phone before you go?"

"Are you serious? Use your own phone. I'm out of here."

She grabbed his arm. “Please,” she begged.

"Fine,” he said and pulled a flip phone from his pocket. He opened it and handed it to her.

She dialed 911.

"What are you doing?” he asked and grabbed for the phone. She turned away from him as she identified herself and described her problem.

"Yes, I came home from dinner a few minutes ago, and my door was open… Yes, I'm sure it was locked when I left for dinner… No, I didn't go inside. I wasn't sure if anyone was in there or not… Okay, I'll wait across the street. Thanks."

She flipped the phone shut and handed it back to Aiden.

"Someone broke into your house?” he asked.

"Yes, and I would have told you so if you hadn't been so busy accusing me of being mad."

"Sorry, I was a little distracted by being clubbed in the head with an oscillating sprinkler. Did they take anything?"

"How should I know? I found the lock had been forced and the door was slightly open. For all I know, the robber could still be in there."

"So, your door was ajar? That's your evidence of robbery? Maybe your aunt gave her house keys to one of her friends. That group does that, you know. Mavis scared me out of a year's growth when I was seventeen and thought I was home alone. I went downstairs after my shower to get a can of soda without bothering to get dressed, and… well, you can imagine. I haven't been able to find my mom tonight. Maybe she's in there using your aunt's big table or something."

My big table, Harriet thought, but didn't say anything. She could hear the siren drawing closer.

"Well, it's too late now,” she said. “The police are almost here, and I said I'd wait across the street."

"Do you always do what you're told?"

Harriet was spared from having to answer by the arrival of the police.

"Is anyone in there?” the police officer asked. He was young and Asian, and wore a black plastic tag that said Nguyen. Harriet took great comfort from the large gun strapped to his side.

"We don't know,” she said. “This is my aunt's house. I live here now. But she's gone on a cruise. I got home and found the door unlocked and open."

Another patrol car pulled up; two officers got out. The driver was a skinny blonde woman with leathery skin, her partner a chunky, red-faced guy. The Asian officer explained the situation to the two newcomers, and they drew their guns and headed for the house.

"So, what did the guy look like?” the Asian police officer asked Harriet.

"What guy?"

"The one that popped him ,” he said, and hooked a thumb toward Aiden, who now had blood dripping off his chin. “Which way did he go?” He took a closer look at Aiden. “You want me to call an ambulance for you?"

Harriet and Aiden looked at each other.

"We haven't seen anyone,” Aiden said. “And, ah, this is unrelated to the robbery. I got here just after Harriet discovered the door was open."

The officer took a long look at each of them. Harriet blushed but didn't say anything.

"You need to get that checked, it looks like you might need stitches,” he said.

The three of them waited in silence until the other two came out of the house.

"There's no one in there,” the woman said. Aiden gave Harriet an “I told you so” look.

The red-faced guy joined the group.

"Somebody's sure been here, though."

Harriet bolted for the door.

"Wait,” Aiden said, but she was already out of reach.

She opened the door and stopped. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

Aiden caught up to her. “Oh, my God,” he said.

What was left of the quilts lay in pieces on every surface. Wisps of cotton batting hung in jagged ropes from torn edges. Thread spools were strewn over the floor and the cutting table top looked as if someone had picked up the thread rack and thrown it in anger. The piecrust table was on its side by the window, its tea cups in shattered pieces on the floor.

"Don't touch anything,” the Asian officer said from behind them. “I've called the crime scene analysts. You'll need to stay out until they finish."

Harriet shivered.

"You can sit in the back of my car if you want. I can turn it on and run the heater."

"That won't be necessary,” Aiden said. “If it's okay, we'll go back to my place so I can get a bandage on this cut. I'm living in the apartment over the Main Street Vet Clinic."