Leah Halliday clutched her pay envelope tightly and held her head high as she walked down the service street behind Rosemont Industries. Arms linked, she and her two best friends marched side by side, their oxfords in silent step. At least misery had company—the proof being the two dozen women who trudged along behind them down the icy street. Although, Leah thought ruefully, I would have preferred to suffer alone in this case.
At the corner, the trio turned left and headed down the sidewalk, still not uttering a sound except for an occasional deep sigh. Two blocks away, they walked into Simon’s Café. Simon’s had been their special coffee klatch hangout for nearly four years now. This was where Susan had sobbed out her misery the day she received the “Dear Jane” letter from her sailor fiancé. It was the place where Janie Brown had shared her doubts about ever being published when the seventeenth rejection letter had arrived in her mailbox. And it was here that Janie and Sue had sat in stunned silence while Leah, trembling and dizzy, told them the news about Bob’s death.
Leah hardly noticed the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet buns as they walked back to the last booth. She sighed heavily and dropped onto the seat. Sliding over, she made room for Janie.
“They didn’t even give us notice! And two weeks before Christmas!” Janie burst into tears and flung her purse onto the table. Grabbing a handkerchief from the open bag, she blew her nose loudly and pressed her lips together.
“I know, sweetie. But ever since the boys came home, we’ve known it was just a matter of time. At least they gave us two months’ severance pay.” Leah patted her friend on the shoulder and gave a wobbly smile that wouldn’t have fooled anyone.
They ordered Cokes from the waitress and, in silence, listened to the blaring of the jukebox as the Andrews Sisters sang the last roistering chorus of “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.”
Susan Ryan, the petite blond sitting across from them, blew a strand of hair from her face. “Are they ever going to stop playing that song? Don’t they know the war is over?” When none of her friends answered, she frowned, squinting her blue eyes. “Can you believe Mr. Kites—complimenting us on a job well done as we ‘held down the fort for the boys in uniform’? Then to say he just knew we would all be happy to give the jobs back to our husbands and fathers. Well, I, for one, don’t have a husband or a father, and I need to pay the rent.”
Leah bit her lip and stared at the saltshaker that had fallen over on the table. She understood her friend’s dilemma; the same war waged inside of her.
“And what about you, Leah? How are you going to take care of Collin?”
“I don’t know, Sue. I’ll manage somehow. I’m sure another job will turn up.” Leah breathed a sigh of relief that she had already bought Collin’s Christmas gifts.
“Well, I don’t know how you can be so sure.” Janie dabbed at her eyes with a clean handkerchief. “After all, everyone’s going to be hiring the returning heroes. Of course we can always clean houses or wait tables, I guess.” She stopped, a look of remorse flashing across her face. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m ungrateful for what the boys did. I don’t begrudge them their jobs back—” Her voice broke, and she shook her head.
Neither of her friends spoke. There was nothing to be said. Nothing to be done. As many other women in the country were discovering, their usefulness to industrial America had come to a screeching halt the second the first wave of returning GIs stepped off the ships. Leah sipped her Coke, staring glumly at the fizz, and despite her optimistic facade wondered how on earth she and Collin would make it through the winter.
Later, as Leah waited at the corner for her bus, her back turned to the cold December wind, she tried to weigh her options. Since Bob’s death, she hadn’t had time to think about the future. She fell into bed exhausted most nights, and her days off were spent cleaning and shopping and trying to make up to her ten-year-old son for not having a dad.
But now she had to think about it, and unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any options unless she wanted to sell the house. The thought ripped through her like a jagged piece of glass, but she couldn’t rule out the thought that it might eventually come to that if the time came when she had no choice. Their house wasn’t fancy, but at least it was a comfortable, roomy place for Collin to grow up. She didn’t want to raise him in a three-room flat if she didn’t have to.
At the thought, Leah’s whole body tensed. Her breathing quickened as the fear she had held at bay for the last four years reached out and wrapped its tentacles around her heart.
Hot grease popped and sputtered as Leah added potato slices to the sizzling iron skillet, then dashed on a bit of salt and pepper. Just as she placed the lid on the skillet, the front door slammed. Her lips curved into a smile while she waited for her reason for living to join her in the kitchen. When too much time passed, she frowned at the silence. Not even Collin’s usual “Mom, I’m home” greeted her ears. Grabbing a towel, she wiped her hands on the way to the living room. “Collin?”
Her son stood at the end of the overstuffed sofa, his head down.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Her throat tightened as he raised his head and looked at her with mournful eyes.
Blood trickled from his quivering bottom lip, and dirt smudged his cheeks and forehead. She gasped and hurried to him.
“What happened?”
Looking down at the floor, he shook his head. “Nothin’.”
Her heart constricted. “It doesn’t look like nothing to me. Come into the bathroom so I can get you cleaned up, and then you can tell me, okay?”
He nodded and went with her without saying anything. Getting cotton and gauze from the medicine cabinet, she cleaned the cuts and scrapes, then leaned back and scrutinized his face.
“Hmm, it doesn’t look so bad now that you’re all cleaned up. Want to tell me what happened?”
He shook his head.
“Were you fighting?”
His silence answered her question. “All right. Go upstairs, and when you’re ready to tell me what happened, you may come back down.” He preceded her into the living room, then started to head upstairs, still wearing his coat. For the first time, she noticed he was clutching his arm.
“Honey, is something wrong with your arm? Why are you holding it like that?”
Collin swallowed loudly and blinked his eyes. “Nothin’s wrong with my arm, Mom.” Avoiding her eyes, he started to climb the stairs.
“Collin, get back down here and let me see your arm.”
Sighing loudly, he turned and came back. He looked at her sadly. “Mom, it’s my sleeve. It’s ripped almost all the way off.”
Leah felt her forehead wrinkle up with worry and consciously smoothed it out. “Let me see.”
Obediently, he lifted his arm and showed her the sleeve. It was ripped along the seam the length of the sleeve, but Leah sighed with relief when she saw it could be fixed. The thought of having to spend money on a new coat almost made her ill. Worse still was the reality that if the coat had been ripped beyond repair, she couldn’t have bought him a new one.
“I think I can mend it, honey. Don’t worry. Now, who were you fighting with?”
“Just one of the guys at school.”
“Do you want to tell me why?”
“I dunno. Guess he said some mean stuff. Then he grabbed me.”
“What did the teacher do?”
Collin widened his eyes in disbelief. “Mom! I’m ten. A fella doesn’t squeal.”
Leah reached over and brushed back a lock of dark, ash-blond hair from his forehead. When had her baby turned into this boy? When had he begun to think of himself as a fella?
“Okay, Collin. I’ll let it go this time. But I don’t want you fighting anymore. If you can’t avoid it any other way, you’ll just have to tell a teacher. If you don’t, I’ll go to the school and report it myself. Now, put your things away while I stir the potatoes. Supper is almost ready.”
Collin stood slowly and started to walk away. Suddenly he spun around and ran back, throwing his arms around Leah’s waist. “Mom, can’t I just go back to my old school? I hate it here. Those Rosemont kids are nothing but a bunch of stuck-ups.”
“Listen to me, Collin. You know Rosemont Academy is a much better school, academically and in every other way. They have up-to-date books and equipment, and it will look so much better on your records. We were blessed that you won that scholarship.” She wiped a tear from his cheek. “You’ll get used to it. And I’m sure you’ll make new friends soon. It’s only been a month. Give it time. Won’t you do that for me? You know I only want what’s best for you.”
“Okay, Mom.” Collin’s expression crashed, and he was obviously trying hard to hold back tears as he headed up the stairs. Leah got up from the sofa with a sigh and walked to the kitchen.
Didn’t God even care?
Leah sat in the wooden rocker with her grandmother Collins’s sewing basket on the table beside her. Tears of frustration poured down her cheeks and onto Collin’s coat. While she’d examined the sleeve earlier, she’d failed to notice the lining inside the coat was ripped to shreds. Beyond repair. What in the world was she going to do? The money from her paycheck added to what little savings she had would have to last them for food and utilities until she could find another job. And there was always the possibility of medical emergencies. She wouldn’t dare spend any of their meager funds on a new coat or even fabric for a new lining.
Lord, what am I going to do? It’s too cold for Collin to go outside without a warm lining in his coat. The thought was there before she even realized what she was doing. Leah hadn’t prayed since Bob died. Why should she? God hadn’t seen fit to answer her prayers to keep her husband safe. Apparently He hadn’t cared that her son would have to grow up without the love and companionship of his dad. So why bother to pray? Yet, there it was. Leah grew still. Would He answer, or would He ignore her as she’d ignored Him?
Wiping her eyes with both hands, she got up and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. As she walked back through the dining room with the fragrant brew in her hand, her eye caught a splash of color in the moonlight streaming through the window. She stopped and stared, then inhaled sharply. No, it wouldn’t be possible. Or would it?
Leah set the cup on the dining table, and walking over to the window seat, she picked up the patchwork quilt. It was a family heirloom, passed down to her on her wedding day. It was very old and, according to family tradition, had some extremely interesting stories connected with it. She held the quilt close to her and caressed the cool, soft fabric. Did she dare rip it apart? Would her ancestors turn over in their graves at the thought of her pulling out their stitches? Or would they understand that she had no choice?
Still clutching the quilt, she walked back into the living room and sat back down in the rocking chair. Reaching into the loose lining of the sewing basket, she carefully pulled out a slip of paper, now yellowed with age. With a sigh, she read the words she knew by heart.
My dearest son,
This quilt is the story of your family and the love that binds us together as truly as the threads that hold together these pieces of cloth.
I began this quilt as a new bride. I didn’t know any more about sewing than I did about being a wife, but I knew about love. The pieces of my wedding dress are in here and form the center block. They are the delicate spring-green swatches. It’s the same green, by the way, you’ll see when the first wildflowers poke their brave stems through the winter-worn earth.
There are a few patches of white in this quilt. They are cut from the shirt your father wore when we got married. Ah, John, what a fine figure he presented that day! I can still see him in my mind, so elegant, so handsome, so sure … and so very much in possession of my heart.
The little patches were once your blanket. This was the first earthly fabric that touched your newborn skin. Yellow-spotted flannel looked so warm against your infant skin, like God had poured sun around your tiny body. It was cold the night you were born—so cold the doctor’s breath froze midair—but you quickly warmed our hearts.
As our family grew, so did our love—and the quilt. Notice how the stitches get more even and practiced on the outer patches. I was just learning in the center section, but the patches, straggly though they may be, are still holding together after many years of hard use.
Love is like that, John. At first, it’s all very new and awkward, but if you’re willing to put your heart into it, it’ll hold steadfast. There aren’t any silk or satin or velvet pieces in this quilt, but to me, its beauty far exceeds the grandest coverlet. Even the littlest, most mundane pieces of life make an extraordinary tapestry when united by love … these scraps of love.
Your loving mother, Brigit Streeter Collins
Leah’s heart nearly broke as she read Brigit’s letter to her son, John, Leah’s own father. She knew what the quilt had meant to her family members. What would they think?
Leah lifted her chin and pressed her lips together. Collin’s health and comfort were more important than a quilt, even if it was a family treasure. And inside she had a feeling that if they could see her from heaven, the grand old ladies would agree.
Max Reilly rubbed frost off the ice-cold, second-story window and peered through at the snow-covered schoolyard below, searching for the taunting voices that had drifted to his office. He located the origin of the noise directly below his window and scowled. A cluster of boys in their early teens stood jeering and occasionally shoving a much smaller boy who stood defiantly in the middle of the circle.
Indignation clutched at Max. He wheeled around and headed for the nearest staircase, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the first floor. Max charged through the double front doors and headed for what had now become a scuffle, as the younger boy had somehow found the gumption to defend himself.
Max pressed through the ring of bullies. Their young victim pulled himself off the ground, his face scrunched up in a valiant effort to keep from crying.
“What’s going on here?”
At the sight of the angry headmaster, the boys scattered. Max managed to grab two of the culprits, making a mental note of the ones who were running off.
“No, you don’t. Whoa there. Stay right where you are, Mason and Carlisle.”
Mason had the grace to look ashamed of himself, while he sputtered, “We were only having some fun. We didn’t hurt him any.”
“Um-hmm. We’ll see about that later. You two get yourselves to my office right now. Sit down, and don’t move until I get there.”
Shaken by the sternness of their usually good-natured headmaster, both boys obeyed instantly, heading for the building.
Max turned to the younger boy, who was clutching his coat tightly around him and shivering.
“Are you hurt, son?” He knelt down in front of the boy, who tried unsuccessfully to wipe the tears away with his bare hands.
“Here, take my handkerchief. I promise it’s clean.” He grinned. The kid took the hanky and wiped his face, then blew his nose loudly.
“You’re Collin Halliday, the new boy, aren’t you?”
Collin nodded. Max picked the boy’s hat up from the ground and brushed off the snow. “Here, better put this on. It’s mighty cold out here. What was the ruckus about?”
Collin took a ragged breath and bit his bottom lip. “I’m not squealing.”
“I understand. But bullies like that don’t deserve to be protected. If they get by with treating you like this, they’ll do it again to other boys, too. You don’t want that, do you?”
A frown furrowed the lad’s brow. He shook his head. Looking straight into Max’s eyes, Collin said firmly, “No, sir, I wouldn’t want that. But I just can’t squeal.”
Max nodded, wondering how to handle the situation. He had witnessed enough to know that the boys were teasing Collin about something, but unless he knew what it was so he could try to take care of it, the teasing was bound to happen again.
The boy stood shuffling from foot to foot, obviously in a hurry to go.
“All right, Collin. You may go now. But I want to discuss this with you further.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Max grinned at the look of relief on the boy’s face as he turned to go, but his grin faded as Collin’s coat fell open, revealing a multicolored lining. What in the world? What kind of mother would line her son’s coat with something that looked like a patchwork quilt? Surely she could have found something less conspicuous. Maybe she didn’t realize how cruel children could sometimes be to anyone different. This was one reason Max had pushed for uniforms—overcoats included. Unfortunately, the board had overruled him on that.
Max knew what it was like to be the victim of bullies. Being the grandson of Templeton Rosemont, the founder of the academy, hadn’t sat too easily upon his own small shoulders when he was a lad in this very school. And the fact that his father, James Reilly, had been the chairman of the board hadn’t helped, either. He wasn’t sure what he could do to help Collin through this tough time in his life, but at least he could take care of the coat situation. That was the easy part.
Pressing his lips together, he walked with determination back toward the building. First, the boy’s tormentors had to be dealt with.