Stitching My Heart

Chapter 4

After an all day one day event, I'm pooped but everything is packed back up and in my large SUV. I love the event; it's always my first stop (fair on the square first weekend in October). There is where I drum up business for custom quilts. (I have the, fill out forms with size, color, themes, dislikes, and age of the person receiving the quilt. Most times I pick the actual colors and patterns, it's better that way). I have a few days till my next event, which opens in Thursday. So, when I get back to my hotel room I plop on my bed on top of the covers, fully clothed, no shoes (yuck) and promptly fall asleep.

* * * *

The flashing light on my Phone wakes me indicating that someone is trying to call me. It's the only light in the otherwise dark room, thank goodness for black out curtains, but as soon as I move to get it the stupid thing stops. So, I'm slapping my hand around trying to find the light switch for the lamp, unsuccessfully. Until finally light blinds me. I quickly shut my eyes but still see spots.

Y'all my middle name is Grace. Not.

Letting my eyes adjust by blinking fast because that always works.

My phone starts going off again but this time with the back facing up the light flashes my right as my eyes were starting to return to normal.

Blah! It can go to voicemail, I think as I burry my head into the hotel pillow. I don't have anything pressing right now. Rest and be sore are the only two things on my agenda. Be very very sore.

A third time the jackrabbit goes off. Damn it someone better is dying.

I crawl from my bed and pull myself up to my phone. Its almost done ringing out when I can actually answer it.

"Hello," I answer in a harried voice trying for a professional voice.

"Hello, I'm looking for Eliana." The voice sounding vaguely familiar.

To buy myself time to figure it out I answer, "This is she, and how may I help you?"

"Eliana, its Wila. You said to call you if ever there were a problem with the quilt." She sounds hesitant to say what is actually wrong with it I can hear the despair in her voice.

"Yes, Mrs. Blackwood. How are you? What seems to be the problem with the quilt?"

"I'm doing well dear and the quilt well....," again her hesitancy to comment on the quilt leads me to believe there is something horribly wrong with it. "Its not awful it just needs a little bit of attention from your skilled hands, darling."

I'm flabbergasted that's there is something wrong with it this soon unless an animal was involved which make me cringe but at the same time pissed that all of my hard work has been ruined. My gasp must be audible through the phone.

"Oh no ok it'll take me a bit to get back to my studio. I have a few show I cant miss and hopefully the snow holds out. Give me two weeks. Can I......"

"Oh two weeks dear? Is that the quickest you can get back."

I do the math in my head. If I can get a flight out today or early tomorrow I should be able to fix it and get back to travel to my next show and not lose time getting there. "If I can get there in the next twelve hours I'll have one day/ twenty-four hours to fix it then I have to leave right after. Can you arrange for some one to meet me at the airport?"

"Yes, I can I think you can complete this in your twenty –four hour deadline."

That somewhat reassures me making my thoughts of a torn or shredded quilt dwindle just a bit.

"Thank you I'll be in contact with you when my flight lands." I quickly hang up with her and call the airlines to see if they have a flight into the mountains.

* * * * *

I can see my mom cringe the entire time she is on the phone with Eliana. I know she hates lying to anyone.... except her kids that is but she knows what's on the line. I'll thank her for this for the rest of my life, maybe even name a child after her.

I can hear the panic on the other end of the line due to the conversation. My mother telling her there is something wrong with a quilt she more than likely spent months making may not be ruined I cant imagine what must be going through her mine.

Not to long later my mom is off the phone headed towards me half despair half anger on her face.

* * * * * *

Twenty minutes later I am in my car heading to the local airport to grab a flight on an island hopper to the remote mountain town my studio is in.

The island hopper ride is bumpy and loud and not as quick as I'd like it to be, least to say its not like flying on a large commercial plane.

Eventually the little plane makes its way to our final destination the smallest airstrip to ever exist, McDade Airport, right at the foot of my mountain studio.

As the plane rolls down exiting the landing strip on its way to the hangar, I see a jeep with a male resting against the driver's door.

The athletic build of the male draws the senses. This must be my ride out to the Blackwood Estate. I internally fan myself. This is going to be a very long ride.

No NO NO that is not what I meant.

I clench my eyes shut at the images this invokes. This man exudes confidence and sex appeal and I'm still 100 yards away. Which doesn't help my mind stop the images of the ride we could have together a deep gruff throat clearing brings me out of the bedroom and back to the plane.

Lost in thought I have debarked the plane and made my way over to the man in question. His dark hair making his bright green eyes stand out from the rest of him, so mesmerizing.

"Hi," I say in a high-pitched voice embarrassed tremendously. I clear my throat in an attempt to sound normal. "Hello, are you taking me to the Blackwood Estate?"