Fabric of Life Read online

  Chapter 15

  Gabe didn’t come that night.

  Thea tossed and turned in bed. Of all the times, when she wanted him to come so that she could talk to him, that’s when he stayed away. She was half angry until she realized that seeing his own funeral must have been hard for him. Being a ghost wasn’t the snap movies made it out to be.

  The last time she looked at the clock, it was one forty-five. She woke abruptly at four-thirty. It was time.

  She rushed to the barn and flew up the stairs. The minute she passed the golden arch, she knew that someone had recently been in the studio. Gabe must have been able to pass through the walls when she wasn’t there.

  She went to the bookmark loom and sat down. Her fingers were poised and ready when Rachel rushed into the room. There was a smile on her face and a happy glow about her. She gave an embarrassed smile. “Sorry I took so long.”

  Ahh, young love, Thea thought. And hot sex.

  Rachel stopped and looked around the loft as Thea had. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Someone’s been here.”

  Rachel screwed up her face in worry. “Another bookmark?”

  “We’ll have to look later. Tillie’s baby is stepping onto the scale.”

  Thea could sense the first bounce of the needle. She poised her fingers and wove one lavender thread across the three-inch loom. The needle bounced crazily, forming one giant knot, and then it stopped.

  Rachel looked at the one, short strand of knotted thread and began to cry.

  Thea licked her lips. Tillie’s baby would die a few weeks after her birth.

  Chapter 16

  Shari called Thea later that morning. “I’m with Tillie and Bill. It’s a girl. There are problems.”

  “I know.”

  When Thea didn’t say more, Shari’s voice grew tight. “What should I do?”

  “Be there for her.”

  “Oh, God.” Thea could hear Shari’s sigh over the phone. “Is she going to make it?”

  “No.”

  A long silence. “Thanks for telling me. I can do this. I can be strong for her.”

  “Are her parents there?”

  “Her mom came for a while. She upset Tillie so much, the nurse asked her to leave.”

  “What did she do?”

  “It was eight-thirty in the morning. Her mom hadn’t slept it off yet. She was pretty trashed. Told Tillie that if God took her baby, it was because she was born in sin.”

  “Shit.”

  “Tillie lost it, couldn’t stop crying.”

  “Wasn’t Naomi pregnant when she married Bud?”

  “Sex is okay. And being drunk is okay. But according to the gospel of Naomi, you have to be married to give birth.”

  “They’re getting married in a few weeks.”

  “Naomi goes to church every Sunday, and that makes her an expert Christian.”

  “Good for her.”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Don’t say anything to Tillie. Just be there for her.”

  “Got it.” Shari hung up.

  Thea stood for a long time looking out the tall windows at the front of the cabin. Outside, everything was painted with the verdant green of May, the color of new life, while Tillie’s baby struggled to cling to its frail thread. Why? she wondered. What purpose did it serve to enter the world for such a short time? What was the point?

  She needed to do something, to feel some sense of accomplishment. She went to the barn and climbed the steps to the loft. She’d work on Joshua’s life map. Maybe that would give her some answers. Once inside the studio, though, the windows beckoned her. She was higher on the hill here, looking a greater distance. Perspective. She needed more distance to be more objective. Did that give her greater wisdom, or just remove her from everyday pain?

  She shook her head. She’d been a weaver for twenty years. She wove life’s patterns, but she still didn’t understand the “why.” Maybe mortals weren’t meant to.

  She crossed the loft to the big loom and sat in front of Joshua’s bookmark. When she calmed herself enough to work, she realized that something wasn’t right in the room. The vibes were off, filled with tension. She looked around more closely and noticed a bookmark that had fallen to the floor.

  In her studio, nothing fell. Nothing was disturbed.

  Everything was in order. She walked to pick it up. Cold fear stiffened her movements, but when she studied it, it was fine. No loose threads, no cut knot.

  She placed it in her open palm and let it drift to its place in the rafters, carefully following its path. When it settled, she opened her palm and asked for the bookmarks on either side of it.

  Two bookmarks floated down to her, and she flinched when the first landed on her palm. A soft pattern of yellows, greens, and blues--happy, harmonious, and nurturing--were cut short where the knot had been unraveled and the threads yanked loose. Whose was it? She ran her fingers over the threads. Sheila Grayson’s.

  Thea walked to the overstuffed chair at the edge of the room and sank onto it. Why??? Sheila Grayson was a sweet, old soul who helped anyone in need. Thea studied the bookmark. Only two or three rows of threads had been pulled. Sheila wouldn’t have lived much longer, anyway. Why tamper with what was inevitable?

  She laid her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes. Some things she understood. She knew that each and every life had a purpose. She knew that each soul had ups and downs that were preordained to help it reach its goals. But why anyone would purposely mess with destiny was beyond her. Who would want to play God? And why? More importantly, how did she find who was doing this? And how did she keep them out of her studio?

  Chapter 17

  She must have fallen asleep. She woke with a start and realized that she was supposed to be at Annabel’s house a half hour ago. Hurrying from the barn, she locked the door behind her, not that it did much good lately.

  She ran to the house, got her keys, and drove past the jewelry shop and florist’s that faced Ruby Riverwalk before she reached Annabel’s house. The street was clogged with tourists who’d come to Emerald Hills early for the long Memorial Day weekend. Hannah was excited. Three days off, and then only four more days of school. Soon, Emerald Hills would be in full summer swing.

  Rachel had already served lunch when Thea dashed into the dining room. “Hey, lady, we started without you. Knew you had a long night.”

  Thea nodded gratefully and sank onto a chair.

  “You’re tardy, missy,” Annabel cracked. “Have you got a note from your parent?”

  “We forgive her,” Muriel said and passed her a plate with chicken salad arranged on spring greens. “Rachel outdid herself. It’s wonderful.”

  “I have a reputation to uphold.” Rachel placed a hand over Annabel’s and patted it. “Mom’s been nice enough to share all of her recipes with me.”

  “But it always tastes better when someone else cooks it,” David said with a laugh.

  Thea tensed. It was careful conversation, chatty small talk. Annabel must be having a bad day.

  Muriel reached for her drink, bumped the glass, and lemonade poured into her mother’s lap.

  David quickly threw napkins onto the table to soak up the spill.

  “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Annabel smacked her head with her hand. “Was that my fault?”

  “No, Mom. It was me.” Muriel started to push herself from her chair to get paper towels from the kitchen. “I’ll clean it up.”

  “Annabel and I will take care of it,” Rachel said, gently pulling Annabel from her chair. “Won’t we?”

  Thea watched Rachel easily steer Annabel toward the back of the house and marveled at how deftly her daughter managed the situation.

  “Mom’s more scattered than usual today,” Muriel said quietly. “She’s upset because we’re leaving.”

  “We didn’t plan on traveling right now,” David explained, his voice lowered, too. “And we have friends coming to stay with us in two days. We have to get bac
k.”

  Thea nodded. “I understand.”

  “But Mom doesn’t.” Muriel frowned. “The sculptor’s leaving this weekend, too, and that adds more to the mix.”

  “Does she know that Rachel and Isak are moving in?”

  “She remembers sometimes, but then she thinks about us leaving, and she gets it all confused.” Muriel pushed aside her empty plate. “I feel so guilty, like we should move back to town and take care of her, or else have her move to California with us.”

  “New surroundings would only make her feel more lost,” Thea said, “and you’re happy in San Diego. If you’re worried about her, fly home and visit more often.”

  Muriel’s face grew pensive, and she turned to Thea. “This is just as awkward as talking about Mom, but I have to ask you something. We know that Gabe visits you, that you and Hannah can see him. How does that work?”

  Thea explained. “He tried to visit you. He came when you first got here, but ghosts can only appear to one person, so you couldn’t see him. He didn’t come to me after his funeral. I think that was hard on him, but he’s usually happy and upbeat. He thinks this is a favor, that he gets to stay with us a while longer.”

  “Is he stuck now?” Muriel asked. “Did he give up his chance to leave?”

  “He can leave any time if he follows the light. Some ghosts stay because they’re afraid, and some don’t realize they’re dead. But Gabe chose to stay. He needed to tell me something.” She told Muriel about Joshua’s bookmark.

  David took a deep breath. “I can’t believe he played with those threads. He knows what you do. He knows what it means.”

  “Wouldn’t you do anything to make your son’s life better?” Thea asked.

  Muriel smiled. “You’ve always defended Gabe. He was lucky to find you.”

  David nodded. “Maybe there’s another reason he doesn’t want to go?”

  “He knows he made a horrible mistake with you,” Muriel said. “Now he can fix it.”

  “I’m sorry Gabe can only choose one person,” Thea said. “I was worried that it would upset you that he chose me.”

  “It did at first,” Muriel admitted, “but the more we thought about it, we can see how this is good for Gabe.”

  “Thanks,” Thea said.

  “Thanks for letting him stay,” Muriel said. “You could have sent him packing.”

  Rachel and Annabel returned to the room.

  “We’d about given up on you,” David teased.

  Rachel grinned. “Sorry, we decided to get dry pants for Annabel, and it takes a while.” She mopped up the spill on the table and washed off the stickiness with a damp cloth. When she was seated again, the talk turned to easy, cheerful topics to keep Annabel’s spirits up.

  It didn’t work. Annabel finally threw down her napkin and looked at them all. “Did you read about Sheila in the paper? She came to visit me every Monday morning. And now, she’s dead.”

  Thea dropped her fork. “It was in the morning paper?” She hadn’t taken the time to look. First, there’d been Shari’s call, then the bookmark in the studio, and then hurrying to get here for lunch.

  “Died in her sleep,” Annabel said. “Just never woke up.”

  “That’s a good way to go,” Rachel said.

  “But it’s too soon,” Annabel said. “Sheila and I promised each other that we’d be like old-broad Thelma and Louises, and we’d go together. We were both going to buy purple dresses to be buried in.”

  “So that’s what’s been bothering you so much today,” Muriel said. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “It’s just not fair!” Annabel said. “Damn it, she left me behind.”

  “It’s not like she had a choice,” David said.

  “I’m going to miss her.” Annabel’s face twisted with grief, then she shook her head. “If I even remember her three days from now.”

  Thea stayed to visit another hour, and then made the excuse that she had to return home to meet Hannah after school. She did need to be there by three-thirty, but she mostly needed time to think. Someone had entered her studio again, this time, to tamper with Sheila Grayson’s bookmark. NO ONE could have a grudge against Sheila. No one. So what was going on? Did the intruder just grab bookmarks at random? Thea thought of the new ghost, the young girl with the frightened, crazy energy. Was she so frustrated that she was striking back, and it didn’t matter whom she hurt?

  She went to the studio when she got home and stood in the center of it. If she slept here, would it make any difference? Could she SEE the ghost that was coming and going as it pleased?

  She was fretting one idea after another when Gabe came to join her. He exhaled a soft flow of air to let her know that he was there.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” he asked when she turned to see him.

  “Not good.” She explained about the studio and Sheila Grayson’s death. “Did you come to the studio when I wasn’t here?”

  “Got in, no problem,” he said. “Didn’t have to go past the arch, just drifted through the walls.”

  “It has to be a ghost,” Thea said.

  “So someone dead wanted me dead, too?” Gabe asked.

  “Maybe I’ve been wrong thinking someone chose you on purpose.” She told him about the new ghost. “Maybe she wasn’t ready to die. Maybe she’s upset, angry, and she’s striking back the only way she can. Who’d want to hurt Sheila Grayson? What if the young ghost just grabs any bookmark that’s handy?”

  “You need to find out who this ghost is.”

  She gave Gabe a long look. “I know you just got back, but can I ask you a favor?”

  “For you, anything.”

  “Until we can contact the ghost, would you guard the studio when I’m not here? I’d ask Aggie, but she’s watching over Cynthia and Toby.”

  “She told me that she was working as a bodyguard.” He glanced at the bookmarks dangling from the rafters. “Our new ghost’s had all the fun she’s going to. I don’t sleep. She won’t get past me.”

  “You’re still new at this. Do you think you can stop her?”

  “To save another life, I’ll give it everything I’ve got. And I’ll get pointers from Aggie.”

  Thea studied him. “Where did you go after your funeral?”

  Gabe shrugged. “This ghost thing kind of got to me when I saw my own body in the box. It really got to me when I saw my mom crying and I couldn’t do anything to comfort her.”

  “Your mom’s glad you’re back,” Thea told him.

  “Is she? Even when I can’t visit her like I do you?”

  “I was worried about that, but you know your mom. She understood.”

  “Bless her. She’s the best.” Gabe came to stand by Thea. “I could sure use a hug.”

  She put out her arms and wrapped them around him. She could feel something, like a tingle of air, but nothing solid. “Is it good for you?” she asked.

  He laughed. “You’re always good for me, but boy, what I wouldn’t give to be able to touch you. This is better than nothing, though. I can feel your warmth.”

  She squeezed tighter. “You’re a little on the chilly side.”

  Gabe started to fade. “This is all my fault,” he said. “If I’d told Melissa to take a hike, I’d still be here, alive and married. Damn it, I wish I hadn’t screwed up.”

  “It’s the past,” Thea said. “Forget it. We have new problems to face.”

  “This time, I’m going to come through for you,” Gabe said. “No matter what. No one’s going to touch another bookmark.”

  Chapter 18

  Thea was puttering in the kitchen when Gabe popped in the next morning.

  “I wish I could smell the coffee and taste your scones,” he said, looking hungrily at the leftovers on the pine table.

  Thea thought about that. “I can’t imagine a heaven without food. That’s a big part of what makes me happy, cooking and eating.”

  “Maybe there is food in heaven,” Gabe said. “I haven’t gone there yet.”


  “True. You’re sort of inbetween.” She didn’t know how wonderful heaven could be without food or wine. The Viking idea of Vahalla with feasts and mead was beginning to look appealing.

  Gabe drifted to her. “I came to ask a favor.”

  “For you. . . “ She stopped short. “What is it first?”

  He laughed. “You’ll like it. I’ve been trying to think of a way to let my mom and dad know how special they are to me and how grateful I am for the childhood they gave me, and I came up with something. It’s sort of silly, but they’ll understand.”

  “What can I do?”

  “You need to get a couple of things for me from my workshop in the barn.”

  She fretted on her way there. “I don’t have to build something, do I? I’m not very good with a hammer and nails.”

  “This takes no skill,” Gabe said. “Trust me.” As soon as he said it, he tried to undo the words. “What I mean is. . . “

  “I do trust you,” Thea said. “We’re past that.”

  “Okay then, you need to look in the third drawer of my workbench, in the storage areas on the side.”

  Thea rarely entered Gabe’s workshop, let alone touch anything in there. It was a respect she and Gabe had shown each other. He never bothered anything in her quilting loft, and she never bothered his tools and projects. After Gabe left, this had become Josh’s work area, and Thea extended him the same courtesy. It felt odd to open one of the heavy wooden drawers that stored hammers, chisels, and wrenches. To Thea’s surprise, in one of the wooden slots, she found a wooden whistle and a wooden slingshot that Gabe’s dad had made for him. He’d saved them all these years.

  “Great, aren’t they?” Gabe asked.

  “Bet you enjoyed these a little too much,” Thea said, thinking of the ornery boy Gabe was when he was little.

  “You only get good with a slingshot if you use it,” was Gabe’s glib reply. “Now go to the big, metal cabinets on the far wall.”

  Thea knew that Gabe’s big band saws and bulky tools were stored there. Gabe left them for Joshua when he moved away and bought everything new in Arizona, so that there wouldn’t be any memories when he made dulcimers and guitars for new markets.