The Wedding Quilt

Danny looked over at his father, then back to Kirk, his expression going soft with memories. “Yeah, Mom went to a lot of trouble. Cooked all afternoon. We’d come back around for leftovers during the week…” His voice trailed off, then he shrugged.

Kirk watched Clayton for signs of eruption, and seeing none, said, “I’m sure you all miss her.”

“We do,” Rosemary said, sitting down across from Kirk, her gaze still on her father. Clayton stared firmly at his plate.

Kirk watched as she reached for both her father’s hand on one side and Danny’s on the other. “Let’s say grace.”

Danny automatically took his sister’s hand, then reached for his wife’s. Nancy in turn held out a hand to Kirk so they would form a circle. Not knowing what else to do, Kirk followed suit and held out a hand to Clayton. On her side of the table, Rosemary waited for her father to grasp both her hand and Kirk’s.

When Clayton refused to take either of their hands, Rosemary didn’t bat an eye. She closed her eyes, holding tight to Danny’s hand, and said a quick blessing, then let go of her brother’s hand to start passing food.

But Kirk didn’t miss the hurt, confused look haunting her eyes. She was trying very hard to stay steadfast in the storm of her father’s rejection. How could a man do that to his daughter? How could he treat her that way and not know he was being cruel?

Maybe Clayton did know exactly what he was doing, Kirk decided. Maybe he was being deliberate. But why?

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he began carefully, “how did your mother die?”

Rosemary looked over at her father, then to Danny, panic in her eyes.

Wishing he could take the question back, Kirk added, “If you’d rather not talk about it—”

“She died in a car accident,” Danny said quietly. “And, actually, we’d rather not talk about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Kirk replied, very aware of the undercurrent circling the table with the same fierce intensity with which Rosemary had just graced the meal.

“How’d work go today?” Rosemary said, her smile tight, her eyes shining.

Relieved that she’d given him an opportunity to take his foot out of his mouth, Kirk nodded. “Great. I talked to Reverend Clancy about hiring some of the locals to help with the sanctuary and the outside walls of the church. I’ll need an assistant to help hoist me up and to help me from time to time up on the steeple. But for the most part I do all the steeple work myself.”

“How did you ever become a steeplejack?” Danny asked between bites of biscuit with rice and gravy.

Kirk grinned. “I get that question a lot. Most people think I’m crazy, but actually, I’m a fourth-generation steeplejack. My mother’s grandfather back in Ireland was a steeplejack and he taught my grandfather and my uncle. When I came along, I tagged around behind my grandfather so much, he had no choice but to put me to work, much to my mother’s dismay. We traveled all over Ireland and England, repairing and renovating steeples and cathedrals, some of them stretching up a hundred and twenty-five feet.”

Rosemary went pale. “I can’t imagine being that high up. I can barely make it up Alba Mountain without getting dizzy.”

Kirk gave her a warm look. “Afraid of heights, huh?”

“She sure is,” Danny said. “I used to climb up to the belfry at the church all the time when we were little. But she’d get halfway up those old stone steps and turn around and crawl back down.”

“I never made it to the top,” Rosemary said, “and I don’t care who called me chicken.” She glared at her brother. “The view from the mountain’s good enough for me. I don’t need to be on top of that narrow tower to see what I need to see.”

Kirk laughed at her stubborn tone, then gave her a hopeful, challenging look. “We might have to change all of that. The view from up there is something else. It’s a shame you’ve never seen it.”

Danny patted his sister on the shoulder. “Hey, man, if you can get her up there, you really will be the miracle worker Reverend Clancy says you are.”

Everyone laughed at that remark. Everyone except Clayton. He ate his food in silence, motioning to Rosemary when he wanted refills or seconds.

Kirk, determined to win the man over in some form, turned to him at last. “Mr. Brinson, since you’ve been a member of the church most of your life, I could use your advice. Would you be willing to supervise some of the men on the ground level?”

Clayton’s head came up and his eyes fixed on Kirk with a sharp intensity. “No, I would not. I’m not interested in the least. Absolutely not.”

Kirk glanced at Rosemary. She looked uncomfortable, but he thought maybe if he could get Clayton involved, it would take some of the heat off her. “I just thought, since you’re retired now—”

“You thought wrong,” Clayton said, scraping his chair back with a clatter. “Rosemary, bring my cobbler and coffee to the den.”

“All right.” She rose to do her father’s bidding, her eyes centered on Kirk. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she rushed by.

She sure did apologize a lot, when it really wasn’t necessary.

“Me, too.” He looked over at Danny. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“It’s okay,” Danny said. “But you have to understand something about my dad. He hasn’t been back to church since the day of Mom’s funeral. He’s turned his back on the world and on God. He can’t understand why God would do this to him, after he tried to be faithful and loyal to the church all his life.”

Kirk leaned forward, his voice low. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but hasn’t your father missed the point entirely?”

Nancy sighed and leaned in, too. “Yes, he has. But Reverend Clancy says it takes longer for some people than others. We’re supposed to be patient and go about loving him no matter how he treats us.”

Kirk ran a hand through his tousled locks. “I feel for all of you, but especially for Rosemary. And I think it’d be best if I go on back to my little trailer.”

“Don’t,” Rosemary said from the kitchen door. “I mean, you haven’t had your dessert yet.” On a shaky voice, she added, “Now, my blackberry cobbler isn’t as good as my mother’s was, and granted, these aren’t fresh blackberries, but Aunt Fitz herself helped me can them last year and, well…” Her voice trailed off as she brought a hand to her mouth. “Excuse me.”

She turned and rushed back out of the room, out of the house. The kitchen door banged after her.

Danny rose out of his chair. “Maybe I should go see about her.”

Nancy put a hand on his arm. “No, honey. Let’s you and I get these dishes cleaned up.” She looked at Kirk.

He was already standing. “I’ll go to her,” he said, meeting Nancy’s gaze head-on. “I enjoyed the meal. Sorry if I dampened the evening.”

Danny shook his head, his eyes dull with resignation. “Don’t worry, buddy. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”

Well, it would be the last for him, Kirk decided as he stepped out into the cool spring night. The scent of a thousand budding blossoms hit him full force, the tranquillity of the peaceful evening clashing with the turmoil he’d just set off inside that house. Searching the darkness, he spotted Rosemary on the bench inside the church grounds, sitting where she sat every day watching the children.

He wanted to rush to her, but instead, he took his time, wondering what he’d say once he got there. Kirk wasn’t used to offering words of wisdom or comfort. He usually dealt in small talk, or technical discussions. Every now and then, he’d get in a heavy philosophical discussion with someone he met, usually involving religion. But for the most part, he steered clear of offering up his opinion on a continuous basis. People didn’t like to have their values questioned, and he wasn’t one for questioning God’s ways.

His mother had taught him simply to accept the daily miracles of life. Kirk firmly believed in God’s grace, but he wore his own faith in an unobtrusive fashion, preferring to live and let live. Because he did move around so much, he’d learned to mind his own business.

Yet, his mother, Edana, a wise woman with strong religious convictions, had warned him many times about his nonchalant attitude. “One day, my fine son, you’ll come across a situation that will demand more than you’re willing to give. You’ll learn all about being tested. Then, my lad, you’ll start taking life much more seriously. And maybe then, pray God, you’ll stop roaming the earth and settle down.”

Was this his test then? If he got involved with Rosemary, he would be going against his own rather loosely woven convictions. How could he comfort this woman? Better yet, should he even try?

She looked up as he approached. He heard her loud sniff, saw her hurriedly wiping at her eyes. Oh, that he’d caused her any further pain—it tore at his heart, exposing him to something deep within himself, some strange sensation that tingled to life and pulsed right along with his heartbeat. He’d not let this happen again.

“Rosemary,” he said, sitting down beside her to take her hand in his. “I’m so very sorry.”

She didn’t pull away, but she looked away, and then up, at the steeple looming in the darkness. “We both seem to be doing a lot of apologizing.”

“You don’t owe me an apology,” he said, meaning it. “You’ve been through a terrible tragedy, and apparently, I’ve come in the middle of it and made it worse.”