Arlene Sachitano - Quilt As Desired

"Welcome back,” he said.

"I guess I was a little more tired than I thought,” she said and felt herself blushing slightly. She hoped her mouth hadn't gaped open while she slept or, worse, that she'd snored.

"You've been through a lot the last few days. Your body knows you need to rest even if you aren't listening."

"Yeah, well, I've had a few things on my mind lately. You really don't have to stay here, you know. I'll be fine."

"You keep saying that, but so far that hasn't proved true, has it?"

"Lauren's quilt has been destroyed. Whoever hit me has now been through my stuff twice. They've either found what they wanted or they realize I don't have it. I don't think anyone has ever believed this was about me personally. Everyone in town knows I'm staying with Mavis. My aunt's place is fair game if they want to look again, so see, there's no reason for you to be here.” She turned and headed up the stone path to the front door.

"Is it me or have things gotten a little icy around here? Did I do something? Is it that accountant guy? Have we broken up and you didn't tell me?"

She stared at him. “Broken up?” she choked. “We had nothing to break. And leave Harold out of this."

"What am I supposed to think? Saturday night we had a nice dinner, a movie and spent the night together. Now you treat me like I'm the delivery man or some other casual stranger you've encountered."

"You are delusional. Saturday we had take-out, and it took two tries to even have that, then you fell asleep on my couch and I watched a movie by myself. We didn't sleep together-or any other way, for that matter. And I hate to point out the obvious, but I barely know you.” She slipped her key into the door lock.

Aiden grabbed her arm and spun her toward him. He lowered his head and pressed his lips gently to hers. His tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips; her body tingled from the contact. Her arms slipped inside his jacket, hands pressing on the work-hardened muscles of his back, pulling him closer. Disquieting thoughts seeped into her mind as her traitorous body responded to his.

He pushed the door open with one hand, the other cradling her close to him; his lips maintained contact with hers as he pulled her through, shutting it with his foot. He guided her onto the chintz-covered sofa in Mavis's living room.

"I can't do this,” she said and pushed her hands against his chest.

He held her in place.

"Do what?” he asked and kissed her again. “I'm just what the doctor ordered. He said rest. I'm helping you relax so you can rest."

"It's more complicated than that, and you know it. I'm practically old enough to be your mother for starters."

"It's simple, and you're only a year older than my brother. Why don't you quit fighting for a little while? Lay your head down and sleep. If you want me to leave when Mavis gets back, I'll go."

He stroked his hand over her close-cropped hair. She laid her head on his chest and breathed in his masculine scent that was a unique blend of soap and fresh air. She supposed if he really wanted to do harm to her he wouldn't choose Mavis's living room; and besides, he felt so warm and strong it was as if invisible weights held her down, preventing her from moving or even…

She was asleep before she completed the thought.

Harriet was alone on the sofa when she woke up; the Kansas Troubles lap quilt was once again keeping her warm. Pioneer women believed that if you slept under a quilt with the word troubles in its name, you would surely experience them. She flipped the hazardous cover off. She didn't need any more of those, thank you.

She looked to the window, and the grey late-afternoon light seeping in around the closed curtains indicated the clock had advanced a few hours while she'd slept. She sat up and ran her fingers through her flattened hair. She could see Aiden sitting at the kitchen table, his book open in front of him, a mug gripped in his left hand. Mavis sat opposite him blowing across the surface of the steaming cup of tea she was holding.

"I had to clean out Mom's office at the factory this morning. It doesn't seem right, getting it ready for some hired stranger to take over her job. She was the heart and soul of the company. If it were up to me, I'd close the place down."

"What would your uncle Bertie do then?” Mavis asked. “He still has a family to feed."

"Maybe he could go get a real job. Mom has been carrying him for years. He huffs and puffs around the factory workers, trying to impress them with how important he is, but Mom made all the decisions. He was little more than a glorified clerk. And he's already hired someone to replace her. I don't see how he could find someone qualified under any circumstances, and yet he's got a replacement coming Monday, not even a week after we buried her."

"Maybe your mom had someone lined up already. I'm not saying she knew she would be killed, or even was planning on retiring, but she always interviewed qualified candidates if they approached her. She called it succession planning."

"Yeah, well, I don't like it. It's like he can hardly wait to remove every trace of her from the factory-and the town for that matter. And Michelle is just as bad. She's having an estate sale tomorrow. Did you know that?"

"I did see a notice at the market,” Mavis said.

"In another week, it'll be just like my mom never lived. I don't see why Michelle's in such a rush. I don't understand why she has to sell the house in the first place. I told her I would pay for things."

"You know your sister. Once she gets something in her head she can't stop until it's done. She's always been like that. But this community will never forget your mother. There's a plaque in the high school thanking her for her scholarship program. The Community Church dedicated a whole pew to your parents when your mom paid for the children's nursery. Most importantly, there's your sister, your brother and yourself. You are her most important legacy."

Harriet was moved by Mavis's speech. Maybe Aiden and his sister were just worried about money in the aftermath of their mother's death. But if not them, then who?

"Welcome back,” Aiden said, noticing she was awake. “I thought you were turning into Rip Van Winkle on us."

"She needs her rest,” Mavis said. “How are you feeling, honey?"

"My headache is better. It's weird-even though I've just slept for hours, I feel like I could lie down and sleep for hours more."

"Too much sleep isn't good when you've had a bump on the head,” Mavis said. She looked at Aiden. “I read that somewhere."

"That's true when someone has just been hit in the head and you're waiting for help. You don't want them to go to sleep. But after someone is released from the hospital, rest is the best thing you can do. In this case, though, I think if Harriet's up for it, a walk outside might be just what the doctor ordered."

"Would you two please stop talking about me as if I weren't in the room?"

"We're just trying to take care of you, honey,” Mavis said.

"Come on, let's give Mavis some peace and quiet. Randy's out in the car. I picked her up while you were sleeping, and by now, I'm sure she's ready to get out and run."

Harriet didn't want to spend time alone with Aiden. She hadn't had time to sort out her feelings about him. And besides, her life was complicated enough without him in it. Mavis's steadfast belief in him was hard to resist, but there was still the age problem. Here in Foggy Point, women young and old alike seemed to worship the ground he walked on, but life existed beyond the confines of this peninsula. Was she ready to introduce a man almost eleven years her junior to Steve's friends in California, or her college roommate?

She felt guilty just thinking about her embarrassment, and realized the age issue was her hang-up, not his. Still, it wouldn't be fair to him to enter into a relationship she was only willing to acknowledge within the confines of Foggy Point.