Patchwork Family

Read an Excerpt:

Chapter 1

“I can’t believe I’ve been married over a year,” Tillie said. The tiny fifty-eight year old woman pulled all ten fingers up through her white curls. “And I’ve got hair again!”

“I told you it would grow back. Now if I could just do something with this mop.” Annabelle patted her own granny blue fuzz. She sat against the ladder back chair, turning slightly to face her friend. The early morning light shone through the lace kitchen curtains, making shadow patterns on the worn tabletop. The century old Victorian home nestled in the Riverside area of Wichita had been in the Morgan family for generations.

“Ah, honey, its just luck. I got some great hair genes, but I’ll trade all this and half my teeth to be entirely shed of cancer genes.” Tillie patted Annabelle’s wrinkled hand.

“How long has it been since your last chemo treatment?”

“Thirteen months, sixteen days, but who’s counting?” Tillie’s black eyes sparkled. She sipped her coffee with a grimace and set the cup back on the table.

“That’s wonderful. Are you feeling okay?” Annabelle’s embroidered hanky slipped from the shirtsleeve of her cotton house dress. Tillie had become dear to her this past couple of years. Although her face was pale, her friend’s requisite khaki slacks, slogan t-shirt and walking shoes made her appear healthy to the casual eye.

“I feel fit as an Amazon warrior, even if I am only five foot nothing.” Tillie flexed her arm like a muscleman.

“If you weren’t a warrior, you wouldn’t have beat that disease and captured the heart of a nice man like Joe Linden.”

When the handsome retired Air Force officer moved into the house across the street she, Regina and Tillie felt excitement in the air. But Joe only had eyes for Tillie, the feistiest of the bunch. Annabelle took a deep breath, feeling a pang in her chest. She tucked her shaking hands into her ample lap. “Would you like some more coffee?”

“No, thanks. Between Joe’s wake up nudge, a two-mile walk, and a mug of your motor oil java, I’ve had enough stimulation to keep me going for the rest of the day.” Tillie took her cup to the sink, pouring the last few drops down the drain.

“Is my coffee that bad?” Annabelle sniffed the contents of her cup and frowned.

“Not really, Belle, it’s just that Joe’s spoiled me rotten. He makes better coffee than the mega million-dollar coffee shops. Nobody can compete. Will you walk me to the door?” Tillie waited for her friend.

“Sure” Rising slowly, Annabelle said, “It still feels odd to be in this old house without Regina complaining about the mess or me or the grand kids. Even after a year.” Annabelle was the oldest of the cousins by six years; Regina had inherited their Grandmother Morgan’s house, where her snobbish mother, Victoria raised Regina as a princess. Victoria’s sister Rose had been the youngest and Annabelle’s mother, who dreamt of living in the country on a farm. She had raised Annabelle in a much more earthy environment, filled with love, but little money.

Tillie walked through the formal dining room oblivious to the glass front cabinets filled with crystal and china.

“Speaking of the grand kids, how are the little darlings?”

Walking into the cluttered parlor, Annabelle could almost hear Regina snort in disgust. Magazines, books, shoes, children’s clothing littered the room, looking like a small explosion had distributed the debris at random. “They took Ms. Pickles for a walk this morning and almost missed their buses.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Tillie asked. “You don’t walk a cat, especially not a three-legged cat.”

Annabelle smiled. “We know that, but tell it to a ten-year-old. I imagine that Megan carried Ms. Pickles so Tad didn’t step on her with his huge feet. He’s almost fourteen, but he’s getting really tall.”

“Think of it this way–he’s got a firm foundation. And Peg? Where was she in all this?” Tillie stopped in the entry. The front door was flanked by floor to ceiling windows covered in sheer curtains. The spring sunlight filtered onto the hard wood floor, casting rectangular pools.

“Peggy spent the night at her friend Malissa’s. They probably fixed each other’s hair, slathered on make up, and called boys.”

“My Lord. I guess she is almost sixteen. What on earth are you going to do when she starts dating?” Tillie opened the oak door and paused.

Annabelle’s hand clutched the front of her dress. “Have a heart attack.”

“If it were me, my hair would be gone again, one handful at a time.” Tillie stepped onto the wrap-around porch calling over her shoulder. “You take care of yourself. Don’t let the kids get you down. Joe and I are just across the street if you need us. And Regina is only a phone call away.”

“Thanks, Tillie. I appreciate everything you and Joe have done for us. You’re good friends. I probably should give Regina a call. Maybe we’ll have her and Sam over for dinner, but not before the kids and I clean the place up.”

Tillie turned and winked. “Wise woman. See you later.”

Watching Tillie’s energetic march across the yard made Annabelle’s breath catch. “I’m only sixty-six, or may it’s sixty-seven, well anyway, I can hardly walk across the room without sitting down for a rest. Guess it’s time to go back on a diet. Maybe Doc will take pity on me and give an old girl something to help the process along. Good thing I have an appointment today. I feel pretty rough.” She shook her head when she realized she’d been talking to herself – again.

“Get a grip, old girl.”

Her three grand kids were a mess, but she loved them. It had been a rough year. The pain of their mother’s accidental death had faded along with the bruises she’d inflicted on them. Tad’s broken arm had healed quickly, as young bones often do, but the nightmare of his mother breaking it, had not. He used to wake up, screaming with fear. Tillie had suggested they check into family therapy at the Child Guidance Center. At the time Annabelle resisted, but after six months of therapy they reaped the benefits. Annabelle got her chance to make things right, to undo the mistakes she’d made with her daughter Liddy, their mother.

The phone rang in the kitchen, disrupting Annabelle’s thoughts. She shuffled down the hall and snatched up the receiver. “Heh…low?” She panted, gulping for air.

“Annabelle? Is that you?” Regina asked.

“Hello. Sorry, I was just saying goodbye to Tillie.”

“What did you do, race her to the door?”

Annabelle chuckled, “No. And I’m fine, thanks.”

“You don’t sound fine. I called to make sure the family home was still standing and to ask you to watch Sugar for the weekend?”

“This house may be a hundred-years-old but it’s sturdy. It’ll even survive us. We’d love to see Sugar. Tad’s crazy about that dog.” She hesitated. “Ms. Pickles isn’t too fond of her, but Megan will see that no harm comes to the cat or the dog’s nose.” Annabelle twirled the phone cord around her finger.

“Great. We’ll bring her by Friday after Sam gets home from the office and pick her up Sunday afternoon.”

Annabelle took slow calming breaths. She could still feel her heart pounding. “That’ll be fine. Don’t forget to bring plenty of dog food. We ran out last time. Ms. Pickles had a fit when her cat food disappeared.”

“That cat has no sense of humor.” Regina laughed. “See you Friday."