Clare O’Donohue - The Lover’s Knot

Behind me Natalie sniffed and continued crying, while Barney whimpered and tried to comfort her. With nothing else to go on but the obvious tension between Jesse and Natalie, my mind started to go through the possibilities. Did Natalie have some kind of criminal record? Or maybe there was something about her relationship with Marc that was worth killing over. Or, as unlikely as it seemed, had Jesse, Marc and Natalie been involved in a romantic triangle? Whatever the case, it didn't seem like anyone was anxious to fill me in on the details. If I wanted to know, I would have to fill them in for myself.

All the cars were already parked in the driveway when we pulled up, and everyone was waiting by the front door. Except Ryan. Somehow he must have managed to get away from Bernie's grip, but I wondered where he had gone.

"Everything okay back there?" Susanne called out as we pulled up.

"Fine, just fine," said my grandmother.

Natalie jumped out of the car and she and Susanne huddled just a few feet away from the rest of us. I assumed Natalie was filling her mother in on the details of the conversation, but they were just out of listening range.

While the women went to the dining room to choose fabrics, I went back to the kitchen to make coffee. And to look for Ryan. Mostly to look for Ryan. He wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't upstairs. I was tempted to ask Bernie where he had gone, but I didn't want to seem interested. So I ended my search, went back to the kitchen and made coffee for the others.

"Look at you, Susie homemaker," came a familiar voice.

I turned to see Amanda standing in the doorway.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" I almost knocked over a chair running to hug her.

She hugged me back and we stayed locked like that until another familiar voice broke the spell.

"I don't remember you ever being that glad to see me," he said.

It was Ryan, standing just behind Amanda.

"Did you know Amanda was coming?" I asked.

"No, she just showed up a few minutes ago."

"I took the train up," she said excitedly. "I tried to call you, but I couldn't reach you, so I called Ryan's cell. He picked me up at the train station. I can't believe this house. It's so cool."

"Why did you come?" I said. "Not that I'm not glad to see you."

"You seemed like you needed me," she said as she sat on the kitchen chair. "Is that coffee for anyone?"

"Yeah, sure." I poured a cup, then sat next to her and stared. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I'll bring the coffee in to the ladies," Ryan said. "Don't talk about me while I'm gone."

"You think you're so interesting." Amanda winked at him in that flirtatious way she had with every man, even ones that were taken. Of course Ryan wasn't exactly taken, and getting the story was why, I knew, she had really come to Archers Rest. As soon as Ryan was out of the room, Amanda turned to me and leaned in. "So… tell me everything."

"There isn't anything to tell. Not really. I mean there's a million things, but nothing with Ryan."

"Where did he sleep last night?"

"Upstairs in my room," I said.

"Then there's something to tell," she said.

"I slept with my grandmother and her dog."

"That's not some creepy small-town tradition, is it?"

Amanda was anxious to meet my grandmother and the women I'd been talking-and complaining-about since I arrived in Archers Rest, so I led her into the dining room.

There the group was huddled over piles of fabric in every shade of the rainbow. They all seemed like solid colors until I got close and realized they were mottled, with variations of the same color in a cloudlike effect. Others seemed to have been tie-dyed in different shades. It seemed to me they didn't need to be cut up and made into a quilt. They were beautiful just as they were. But the rest of the room's occupants didn't seem to share my view. They were already debating how to cut the fabric, in what order and by whom. And it was a lively debate. My grandmother sat in a chair leaning over so far to examine the fabrics that I thought she would fall out. Maggie and Natalie, the oddest of friends, yet always joining forces, grabbed fabrics and threw them on the floor to where Nancy sat with Bernie and Carrie. The three women would put each one next to fabrics that had already been chosen, while the others shouted out "yeahs" and "nays" to each new selection. Only Susanne didn't seem to be interested in the free-for-all. She sat quietly next to Eleanor, staring into the pile of fabrics, a million miles away from the rest.

"Who's this?" Eleanor suddenly noticed that Amanda and I were in the room.

"This is Amanda, my friend from New York," I said. "This is my grandmother and her Friday Night Quilt Club."

"And Ryan," said Bernie.

Ryan was busy moving coffee cups out of the way of flying fabric and didn't even look up.

"Amanda and Ryan and I work together," I said.

"Well, Amanda," Nancy held up a bolt of mottled light green fabric, "what do you think of this?"

"I think it's lovely," she said, clearly unsure of what answer she was supposed to give.

"I agree." Nancy added it to the quickly growing pile of chosen fabrics.

"Don't you have enough?" I asked as the bolts of fabric teetered over.

All the women laughed. Not just laughed, but laughed as if I had uttered truly the stupidest thing ever said.

"You can't have too many fabrics, dear," Maggie admonished sternly.

"Why not?" Amanda asked with just the right amount of naivete and interest. They had her.

"This," Nancy explained, pointing to the fabric, "this is our paint box. I use one green for, say, a leaf. But I shade it with a slightly darker green from a different fabric."

"So the more fabric, the more depth," I jumped in.

"Exactly." My grandmother's eyes lit up. "The more fabrics you use, the more you can say in your quilt. You can draw someone in, make it so their eyes move across it. Two fabrics in a quilt is fine, but it has to be a deliberate choice. And it can be tricky to create emotion in a quilt with two fabrics. But you can make even the simplest patterns seem complicated by using lots of different fabrics."

"Oh, cut out the baloney," Bernie interrupted. "I use a lot of fabrics for one reason. Because I love to buy fabric and I need an excuse to buy a lot, and I'm not alone."

"That's okay too," Eleanor laughed. "That's what keeps me in business."

"Well, I guess we should leave you to it, then," I said. I nodded toward Amanda and we made a quick exit before we were drafted to help.

Amanda and I grabbed our coats and were heading out the front door when Ryan caught up with us. "Let's all go out for coffee," he suggested.

"Can Amanda and I have some time alone?" I asked. He looked toward Amanda. "Why are you looking to her for permission?" I demanded.

Amanda smiled. "Don't worry, Ryan. I won't give her any more ammunition to throw you out on your ass."

I laughed, but Ryan looked back at me worried. "What am I supposed to do while you're gone?"

"You're the one who wanted to be here," I reminded him as I got in the car.

Ryan stepped back, but I could tell he was not pleased, and- this surprised me-I really didn't care.

We parked in front of the bakery, but I'd run out of interest in coffee and pastries, so we walked down the block to Moran's Pub. Inside it was dark and a little run-down. The sort of place where three or four rumpled old men sit continuously at the bar from opening to closing, drinking without getting drunk. But there were no such men sitting at Moran's, just a cooing young couple at the bar and two college-age kids playing pool.

We ordered two beers and sat at a corner booth. I hadn't even had a chance to take a sip before Amanda started.