Make Quilts Not War - By Arlene Sachitano Page 0,40

was, you didn’t call me. Not that night, not the next day. Not at all. Once she…” Harriet grasped for words that wouldn’t be offensive to him. “…did what she did, I ceased to exist for you.

“And that is the problem. That’s the part of all this that you refuse to take responsibility for. Even now, you walked through the woods and sat on my steps freezing so she wouldn’t know you’d come here, didn’t you? You’re afraid of what she’ll do or say if she knows you’re talking to me.”

Aiden’s chin dropped to his chest.

“What am I supposed to do?” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Grow up” comes to mind, Harriet thought, but instead of giving voice to it, she moved around to his side of the table and pulled him up. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Only you can figure this out, Aiden. I can’t, and Michelle certainly won’t.”

He bent his head down and grazed her lips with his. When she didn’t protest, he deepened the kiss. She threaded her hands under his shirt and stroked his back.

“This has never been our problem,” she said when their lips finally parted.

He hugged her, swaying slightly as he held her.

“I’ve missed this,” he said. “Us. You.” He breathed in deeply. “I love the way your hair smells.” He held her silently. “Maybe we could run away somewhere,” he murmured into her hair.

Harriet leaned back and looked into his face to be sure he didn’t seriously believe that was a viable solution.

“Let me give you a ride home,” she said and turned away from him. “I promise I’ll drop you at the end of your road so your sister doesn’t know where you were.”

“When can I see you again,” he asked.

Harriet stopped and turned back to him.

“I’m not going to play the other woman, sneaking around behind your sister’s back. You’ve got some decisions to make, and I’ve got my hands full with this festival and everything.”

“Has something else happened? Everyone’s been talking about the murder, but it sounds like they suspect her husband.”

She told him about the tire-slashing.

“You should have called me,” he said automatically.

“So you could ask Michelle’s permission to come out? I don’t think so.”

“I want to see you again.”

“I want to see you, too. But not until the festival’s over. We can talk, but, Aiden, there won’t be any point to it unless something changes.”

“I guess that’s all I can ask,” he said and shrugged into his coat.

“I wish you would talk to someone about your sister, someone who isn’t me. There must be a family counselor in Foggy Point, or maybe you could see Pastor Hafer.”

He stood in silence, his lips clamped tight. She sighed and put her coat on, picked up her purse and keys and led the way to the garage.

Chapter 17

Harriet got up early the next morning and went straight to her studio. Connie had found a box of granny-style dresses made with small print floral cotton fabrics stored in her attic. She’d distributed them among her friends; but since she was shorter than anyone else in the Loose Threads, the dresses didn’t reach the ankle length they were intended to be but ended mid-calf.

Harriet dug through her stash and found a similar piece of fabric in a coordinating print. She pulled out the hem on the dress and used her fabric to make a border, covering the seam with a piece of flat lace that was left over from another project. She held it up when she’d finished.

“Well, boys,” she said to her two pets, “it’ll have to do.”

Scooter wagged his tail, but Fred had no opinion.

An hour later, she was showered, had eaten and was wearing her handiwork. She’d put gel in her short dark hair and blown it dry, fluffing it into her facsimile of an afro. She’d pulled on a pair of running tights under the dress and added hiking boots to finish the look.

“You boys behave yourselves,” she said to the dog and cat. “I’m going to be a little late, but Uncle Rod is going to come by twice just to be sure you’re okay.”

With that, she picked up her purse, stitching bag and coat and headed for the garage.

Jenny was standing by her quilt when Harriet came into the exhibit hall; she had done a more extensive makeover on her granny dress. In addition to adding wine-colored velveteen around the bottom, she’d sewn a velveteen