Clare O’Donohue - The Lover’s Knot

"You mean someone getting into trouble."

"You can't get into too much trouble making a quilt. It's too bad you didn't start making one the moment you arrived."

"Is that your way of saying that I wouldn't have gotten involved with Marc?"

She shook her head. "You dodged a bullet with that one."

I decided to go for broke and ask what had bothered me since I saw Jesse talking to Natalie. "What did Marc do to Natalie?"

"Leave it alone," Susanne almost whispered. "Be grateful that he didn't stick around to destroy what you have."

"But he didn't destroy Natalie either. I keep hearing about her wonderful husband and baby," I protested.

"You're right. I'm very grateful he didn't have his chance."

I hesitated for a second, but I had to say what I was thinking. "Did he get killed before he did?"

Susanne tilted her head slightly, as if wondering whether to answer. "I suppose he did. My guess is that whoever killed him was just trying to protect someone they loved. And can you really find anything wrong in that?"

She looked up at the house as the light in my bedroom went on. I looked up too and saw the shadow of Ryan moving around the room.

The next morning I got up early and took Barney for his walk. Only this time I didn't take him toward the river. I walked into town and let the confused dog follow me.

I stopped in front of the shop and tried the door. It was locked. A strip of police tape covered the lock, brown paper covered the windows. It seemed abandoned and unloved.

I didn't really know what I was looking for, but I couldn't leave. I only knew that Susanne's words echoed in my mind. If someone had killed Marc to protect someone, was that really so bad? What good would it do for anyone to know? But if it was Ryan, was it okay that he might have killed a man to protect our relationship? I knew the answer was no. I knew what the real question was. Could I live with him if I didn't know?

"What are you doing?"

I turned around to see a minivan. Natalie was waving at me from the driver's seat.

"I haven't the vaguest idea," I admitted.

"Then I'll drive you guys home."

I didn't want the company, but I did have a question.

After putting Barney in the back, I jumped in Natalie's car, pushing aside baby toys, pacifiers, a carton of diapers and a CD called Jammin' with Baby with a picture of a toddler rocking out on a play guitar. I smiled and said, "How adorable." But as Natalie moved in her seat and sat on a juice box, I had one of those moments that single people have when we feel slightly smarter for not having reproduced.

"He's getting really cute," Natalie told me as she brushed off the juice from her jeans. "My husband says now that he's past the poop and sleep stage, he's getting to be good company."

"Your son, right? Not your husband."

She laughed. "No, my husband is still in the poop and sleep stage."

"Where is your son?"

"At my mom's. She kept him for me last night. I was on my way to pick him up." Natalie was beaming. "Do you mind if I pick him up before I drop you guys off?"

I did mind, but I figured it would give us time to talk, so I shook my head.

Natalie kept talking. But it wasn't so much that she was talking to me, just talking to herself about her good fortune. I recognized it from the way I used to talk about the wedding. Jabbering on and on about details no one but you cares about, expecting the world to be fascinated. Listening to Natalie, I realized how annoying I must have been.

"He's really brought us closer-Jeremy, my son," she continued, as I half-smiled. "He's turned us into grown-ups. We used to have all these stupid fights, and break up and get back together, but now we're solid." She gripped the wheel. "I never want to lose that."

"You won't," I said, with the reassurance only a stranger can give. "Jeremy's not going anywhere."

She looked straight at me for a long second. It made me nervous enough to look toward the road and make sure we weren't headed into oncoming traffic. But just as I was about to say something, Natalie turned her eyes forward.

I wanted to ask her about Jesse, her history with Marc. But I didn't want her driving off the road. So I said, as gingerly as possible, "Marc's death seems to have stirred a lot of emotions in everyone."

She nodded. "Almost there." She ignored my comment, responding with the same cheery tone she'd had at my grandmother's shop.

We pulled into the driveway of a modest frame bungalow, much the same as the others on the block. The only thing that separated the house from its neighbors-and it was a big thing-was the bright purple door.

Susanne walked outside with Jeremy in her arms.

"Hey, sweetie, I brought you this," Natalie said, waving a small green dog. Jeremy's tiny hands reached out for the stuffed animal as if it were a long lost friend. And Natalie reached for her son, grabbing him and holding him tightly as if it had been weeks since they'd been together.

At Susanne's urging, we left Barney in the car and went inside for coffee and freshly made pumpkin doughnuts, which prompted me to say, "Who makes doughnuts from scratch?"

"Not me, honey," Susanne laughed. "I make quilts. Jeremy and I took a walk to the bakery this morning. Your grandmother is the one who tries to do it all. My guess is she's trying to make you over in her image."

"Well then," I laughed, "it will be the first thing she fails at."

"I don't know. You remind me of Eleanor," Natalie said and turned to Susanne, who nodded in agreement. "You have her absolute sense of right and wrong."

"That can get you into trouble." Susanne leaned in to me.

The small dining room we sat in opened onto an equally small living room. Both rooms were as overdone as Susanne's makeup. Gilded mirrors hung on nearly every wall and dozens of family photos filled almost every available shelf. There were several black-and-white photos of Susanne at what must have been beauty pageants many years before, some of Natalie, and what amounted to a shrine of baby Jeremy.

An ornately carved wood coffee table sat in the center of the room. It had been painted gold, with postcards glued to the top and covered by a scratched piece of glass. An old plaid couch next to it was draped with a red, black and white check quilt. Three cats were happily sleeping on the quilt and on the purple throw pillows that dotted the couch.

Across the room a large dog sat chewing a bone next to an elaborately decorated artificial Christmas tree. I kept staring at it, trying to figure out what, aside from the fact that it was September, made the tree seem so odd.

"I leave it up all year long," said Susanne, with pride. "I know people think I'm silly, but it makes me happy, and Jeremy gets a kick out of it too."

"No, I think it's great," I said. "Very festive."

"She changes the decorations for each holiday," said Natalie.

I took this as permission to examine it closer, and realized that little skeletons, witches, and pumpkins-many of them handmade-had been carefully hung from the branches.

"Halloween," I said in an uncomfortable moment of obviousness.

"My favorite holiday," said Susanne.

"They're all her favorite," laughed Natalie.

"Jeremy's going to be a pumpkin," Susanne told me. "I'm making his costume myself."

"He's going to be a bumblebee, Mom," Natalie sighed. "I told you that."

"A pumpkin is so much more in keeping with the theme," Susanne argued, and scooped up Jeremy from his high chair.

"He needs to eat," Natalie objected.

"Oh, he's fine. He's a big strong boy," cooed Susanne.

Since they seemed to forget about me, I stood back and watched the way the two women doted over the little boy. He seemed to take it for granted, the way only children can, that he was the center of the universe.