Scandal (4 page)

They both laughed and relaxed a bit.

"Okay." Sunshine said to me, "We'd appreciate it if you didn't spread it around, but it's not a
big secret. We just don't like the competition to know too much before the show." With that she
went back to the side of the quilt frame.

Secrets? I wondered what the big deal was. A quilt's a quilt, isn't it?

"How does the competition work?" Len said. "Do you have to be a member of your Quilt
Guild to enter? Or," he added, his manner unusually humble, "a woman?"

Why, I wondered, did he want to know?

While Lena dealt with his question, Magda took me aside. "You say you don't quilt, but I
think you have a question. What is it?"

"I had an aunt who lived at Cannon Beach and made a quilt featuring Haystack Rock.
'Applique,' she called it."

"When was that?"

"Right after the first World War. I was wondering what your quilt looks like."

"It's not my quilt. I'll tell you this much. One of the other gals has something. If you want to
see it you'll have to come to our show."

"Look, we don't have time today, but I'd like to know more about this quilt."

We were getting off my question about the mystery quilt, but I didn't notice, not then.

"Is it still around? Could I see it?" said Magda.

"Sure. I'd like to show it to you." I'd have to get it from Sam. That wouldn't be a problem. I
knew he liked to show it off.

"And I think there is maybe more you have to ask?"

I nodded. Could she read my mind?

She reached into her back pants pocket and pulled out a card. "Here. All my info is here. I
teach quilting, and I also authenticate quilts."

At my questioning look she pushed her card into my hand. It had a quilt design on it. "Just
call. Part of authenticating is registering with the state. A quilt like that needs to be recorded."

I tucked her card into the side pocket of my purse, an innocent enough act.

As we were leaving I noticed that Len was holding a piece of paper. "What's that?"

"While you were gabbing I entered a quilt in their show."

"What quilt?"

"Tumbling Blocks. You were looking at it when I found you."

"You made that?"

"Hey! Your family isn't the only one that quilts, you know. And yes, I am proud of it."

I said, "You should be. Boy, you are a surprise! Now, maybe, I'll have to go to the dang
thing."

Hard to imagine Len as a quilter. The little I knew of quilting led me to think it required,
above all, patience. Even Magda had mentioned it. He'd always been short on that.

But then, people do change. I sighed to myself with relief, thinking of our distant past. I was
going to count on it.

I didn't expect to live this long, not this long without Sue. She was the light of my life and
sometimes I think this dark is going to last forever. Gotta say, though, I have found ways to get
through, to be happy in this time without her. I know, things change.

Like me. I've had to adapt. People in the old days had to learn new stuff, trains, phones, all
that. I'm making my way. When the kids presented me with the idea of using a computer, I balked,
but they brought the dang thing right in the house with us and so, I got curious.

Learned it, although one day when it came up with some message about me committing
some Fatal Error, I got on the horn and called Dave up at work. Luckily he was in the office and not
out driving the truck or I'd'a said a couple things to Teri that a woman doesn't need to hear.

"Kid! If you don't get home pretty damn quick here and help me with this thing I'm gonna
take a hammer to it. Then I'm goin' on to Walker's computer next door, smash it, and then
wherever. This crap has gotta stop!" I meant it, too. I was so mad!

Dave told me to take a walk on the beach until they could get home. So they got me on
board with it all and now I help other people. Like my friend Kit in that care center where I'm going
next week. I'm over eighty but I'm not done yet.

Something Annie doesn't know about yet. I met Magda at the Fair. In truth, I met Magda
some years ago when she was at Sophie's Cabins, probably about 1980. About the time I met
Annie.

I liked her then, but I was married and I didn't fool around. Besides, she was at least twenty
years younger than me. She was married too.

Maybe she flirted with me then because of my blue eyes. Like Paul Newman, I'd like to
think I'm more than a pair of eyes. She did flirt with me though, not seriously, but enough so that
when she showed up at the Bug Exhibit looking for Annie we sort of recognized each other.

"You look familiar," she said.

"Oh, you say that to all the bug guards," I teased, and then reminded her of her beach visit
about thirty years ago.

"I can't believe it! You remember me after all these years? I don't even look the same! I was
skinny." Her voice boomed, making the bugs jump.

She does look different, has put on a few pounds. Looking good. I shook my head at her, and
said, "Still look the same to me. Better. I like a woman with a bit of meat on her bones. Bones are for
a dog, the meat is for a man."

That stopped her in her tracks, for a minute, and then she laughed.

That was what had attracted me way back when, the boom of her laugh. The bugs didn't
like it, I could see them getting nervous. I took her elbow and moved her away from the cages, over
to a bench by the open doors.

She sat down. I sat right beside her so I could hear her over the noise of the carnie rides
outside the door.

She didn't move away. "I'm sorry," she said. "Your name? It's been a long time." I started to
tell her, but she put her hand on mine where it was resting on my leg.

"No, let me guess. It's unusual, but not."

I kept my hand right where it was, didn't want to waste the moment. It's been a while since
I've felt the warmth of a flirty hand on mine. I watched Magda's face twist comically.

"Joe? No, common, but not." Her brows folded, before she smiled widely. "Sam! For
Sampson! The guy with the hair! The strong guy."

I put my other hand over hers, squeezing gently. "Well, I'm older but I'm still strong. Strong
enough for normal purposes."

"Oh, Sam." She'd pulled her hand from mine and was now pushing my chest with it, soft
like. She even colored a bit. "Uh, how's Sue? Isn't that your wife's name, Sue?"

"Yes. It was. I mean, she's been gone for a long time now. Died some years ago."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Sammy. I liked her. She was a jolly soul. Made our time at the cabins really
nice."

That reminded me that she'd not been alone on that vacation, but not with a husband, but
her husband's sister. Joan, that was her name.

"So, how is Joan?"

Her eyebrows rose. "You remember her name?"

"I didn't forget yours, Magda. So how's her brother? The guy who picked you girls
up?"

She laughed again. "You sly dog. You are still so cute. My husband Tommy?" She pushed her
hair off her forehead and ran her fingers over the top of her head. "Wow, warm isn't it!" She
straightened, leaning her head away from me. "Aw, he's okay. He's gone a lot. I quilt a lot. We get
along okay."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear it. Where does he go?" I couldn't help grinning.

"He's a fishing nut. All the time. We have a boat. I sometimes think the boat has him. He
doesn't even like to eat fish. He just fishes. Whatever's running, he's out there chasing it."

"You get lonely?"

"Just cut right to the chase, eh?"

"Sounds like you're alone, but not? Does he have a gun? Do you play around?"

Magda stood and held out her hand to me as if to give the old guy a helping hand up, if he
needed it.

I didn't. My turn to laugh. "Just thinking of your options. Quilting's great. Mom Sophie made
her living quilting, but I always thought she needed a boyfriend. You know, to take jars off lids, and
stuff."

"If I remember right that was the name on the cabins, but seems to me that your mother's
name was Amy?"

Before I could answer, she continued. "Tommy is a good guy. He's just not there. Never has
been. About a year ago he took off on that boat with a friend of his. They went to Mexico to fish and
are still there. He's not much on phoning. Heard from him on New Year's Eve. He was drunk. Lord!
No, I'm not lonely. I have my quilt friends. I'm busy. And for the most part, happy."

This was a funny conversation to be having by the open door of the Jackman Long Building.
I brought it back to why she'd come over to the Bug Exhibit in the first place. "Weren't you looking
for my cousin, Annie?"

"Annie's your cousin? What a coincidence. Maybe that's why she seemed familiar to me.
You do share a slight family resemblance." She stared at my face. "In the cheekbones. Kinda Nordic,
or is it way back Indian?"

Lord, she was starting to go woman on me, wanting to examine the details. "I don't know.
We can talk about it later, if you want. Right now I need to get back to my Bug Protecting Detail.
Some of us have to work, you know." I broke us a path through the mess of people heading out the
door. "About Annie. You want me to give her a message?"

"No, I'll call her. I have her number. We have a quilt to talk about."

"I'll be staying with her next week, so perhaps we'll meet again." I wasn't going to let her
slip away from me twice. The other time had not been a possibility but, now, here, I sensed
something. "Maybe you could give me your number? Do you ever come to the coast, anymore?"

"I live in Willamina. Quite a ways from Cannon Beach, but not so far, if a person wants to
swing by."

I didn't like to have to say this.
Dammit, I hate getting old!
"Look, the fact is, I don't
drive anymore." We moved through a clot of people. I was glad for the diversion.

"Okay." She smiled, and when we got to the Bugs, she gave me a hug. "I think we can figure
out a way to meet up again. I'll be calling Annie. You tell her I was here. This is for you." She gave me
her card. "You will hear from me."

She walked away and I stood there, by the bugs.

Hmmm. Did what just happened, really happen? Is she still flirting with me, after all these
years? I walked over to a couple looking at the Exhibit. "These are Hissing Madagascar Cockroaches,
you know," I told them, feeling like I needed to talk to someone, tell them something. I'd liked
feeling important even if it was only for a few minutes.

When they walked away, looking at me like I was a little strange, I decided it was time for
me to go to my camper and start packing, check my wardrobe. I've got a nice blue shirt that I know
the ladies like.

Wonder if I brought it along.

On Monday I played the afternoon away with Dave, his wife, Teri, and their grandchildren.
The fair was more fun with the kids, Amber and Krysta. By the end of the day we were all hot, and
sticky with their cotton candy, and yes, we'd shared one deep-fried Twinkie. The girls judged it, "All
right." No one needed another. It was a fun afternoon. Sam, who had spent much of that time at the
camper, packing, and I left in the early evening for my home on the Clackamas River. As much as I
love traveling, I treasure even more coming home to the forest and the river.

The river is a dramatic backdrop to the backyard of my home. It's why Roger and I bought
this property and put our dream house here. It's a wild river, full of life, despite a dam upriver. Clear
water scrambles over large and small rocks, foaming white as it drops into small pools. At the
river's edge the water swirls around low-hanging branches, twisting and tearing off leaves and pine
needles as it ambles here, speeds there, moving freely on. All of it pleasant to look at and listen
to.

From my back porch or from windows that I open on warm nights, I hear the river wending
its way to the Willamette. The sounds are calming and yet stimulating. Now, as we near Autumn, the
slowed splash from the lowered water level helps to cool my fevered mind. This business of
meeting up with Len had me in a spin. And that unfinished quilt of Aunt Sophie's nagged at me in a
way I hadn't expected. Something had to be done with it, but what? I didn't know which was
troubling me more.

After a good night's sleep, the week with Sam had an interesting twist, causing me to
wonder if my aunt was haunting me. She was with me more than I'd felt in many years, because of
Sam? He was a greater spur with the quilt than I'd expected, starting with asking about Roger's ship
models.

Tuesday morning I told him I'd come to terms with letting go of Roger's ship models, but
that I had a problem with one of them not being done. "I hate to just throw it away." I said.

"Can I have a look at it?" He said. "I haven't done one of those in years, could be fun to finish
it for you. Or him."

We spent the morning in Roger's room. Sam patted the trunk. "Mom's old trunk. I'm glad
you have it." I lifted the lid and he stared at the maroon and green quilt wrapped around the
unfinished ship. He took a sharp breath.

"I remember this quilt. Mom started to make this for our wedding, when Sue and I got
married. But she never finished it. Don't know why. She made a traditional
Wedding Ring
instead."

Before I could stop him Sam bent down and wrapped his hands around the clumsy bundle.
I needn't have worried. His touch was as gentle as if he was lifting a newborn baby. Underneath was
the original box that the model had come in. I took it out and closed the trunk so Sam could set the
blanket-wrapped ship on the lid. He stepped back to let me unwrap it.

"She made our
Wedding Ring
with Sue's color scheme of orange and gray. I think
she said this one just didn't go. Sue used to kid me that as long as my mother's
Wedding Ring
covered us I'd never stray."