Grandma's Wedding Quilts_Prequel Page 4

“Look at this, Callum.” She pointed out the uniforms behind a glass case. “Even if she was the best seamstress in the world, do you really think that someone would go to all of the trouble of encasing the uniform?”

  “I don't know; I guess it would depend on how valuable I thought the uniforms were. As Jefferson said, his great-grandfather was an avid historian.”

  “Yes, and he knew something about Gretchen's family, something that he didn't dare write on paper. Maybe that something influenced him to take even more precautions with preserving the uniforms.”

  “You mean, he thought they might be worth a lot of money some day?”

  “Yes, maybe.”

  “I'm not sure. It's a long shot.”

  “You said yourself that the bloodline ended for a reason, that there may have been a scandal in the family. Obviously, that was most likely the case, as it’s been confirmed by the distinct lack of documentation.”

  “Sure, but we don't know what. I mean, it could have been very simple. Back then, their moral standards and extensive restrictions on women allowed for many things to be scandals that wouldn't even be thought of twice now.”

  “I just think it’s something we should look into.”

  “Absolutely.” He met her eyes. “I just don't want you to be disappointed if it turns out not to be what you're expecting.”

  “Why do you always do that, Callum?” She turned to face him.

  “What?”

  “You're always saying you don't want me to be disappointed. Like somehow it's your job to prevent that.”

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.”

  “No, I'm not upset. I'm just curious.”

  “I don't want you to be hurt, Hannah.”

  “But it's not your job to protect me.” She shrugged. “I can take the risk of believing in miracles, can't I?”

  “You can, but,” he cleared his throat, “I've never seen one myself.”

  “Well, buckle in, Callum, because if you stick with me, you're going to see one, or two, or three or more.”

  “You really believe that much?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “The only way to create a miracle is to believe. There are no other options to save the museum, so yes, I'm going to believe. I'm not asking you to, but I am asking you not to try to protect me anymore. I want to take the risk.”

  “All right.” He smiled. “Then I'll do my best to believe with you. Let's go get some lunch, and I'll look over what I've found so far.”

  “Sounds good.” She led the way back to the car. As she snapped her seat belt into place, she glanced over at him. It meant a lot to her that he wanted to protect her, but what did that mean, exactly?

  * * *

  “This is very interesting.” Callum skimmed through some results on his tablet. “Based on the information that Jefferson gave us, I think I've found Mary.”

  “What? Really?” Hannah leaned over to look at the tablet and nearly knocked his elbow off of the table.

  “Okay, calm down.” He laughed and pushed the tablet toward her. “See for yourself.”

  “Mary—had four children and twelve grandchildren. This must be her! How did you find her?”

  “Once I had her name, it wasn't too hard. Although there are no birth records for her, there was a death record. Once I had that, I could find the survivors, and that led me to the others.”

  “So, we still don't know exactly who Mary was?”

  “Not exactly, but I'm going to look into it more. Meanwhile, you have a solid trail to follow, don't you think?”

  “Wow, I can't believe it. You're an amazing researcher, Callum.”

  “You think so?” He sat back and Hannah felt his eyes, unblinking, zoomed in on her. Her cheeks felt warm, and her breath caught in her throat.

  Redirect, Hannah, just redirect…

  “Yes, I know so. I can't wait to call Audrina and tell her about this. To think those quilts have survived so long, it's astonishing. Now, if we can trace the other grandchildren, then we might be able to find the other quilts. Provided they are still out there somewhere and in decent condition.”

  “It's important to consider that not every family may have been so careful with their quilts.” He frowned. “Sorry, there I go again.”

  “Don't be. You're right. It's a bit much to expect that they'll all be in perfect quality. But I'm going to try. It seems, at least from what I’ve learned thus far, that the quilt recipients felt there was something very special about them, and that they needed to keep them safe, so we have that going for us.”

  On the drive home, Hannah kept her gaze trained to the side window; her mind was a million miles away.

  In her mind, she could see herself at the foot of Grandma Mary's rocking chair, gazing up at her with adoration as she worked on her quilts. Whoever Grandma Mary was, she must have loved her family very much to invest so much time in creating such beautiful and intricate quilts.

  Maybe that was the sensation she felt when she touched the quilt—the power of love, as it traveled through the years.

  When Callum turned into the parking lot of her apartment building, she came back to the present as he put the car in park.

  “I'll walk you up to the door.”

  “No, you don't have to do that, Callum. I’m good.”

  “I want to. I mean, if you don't mind.” He offered a half-quizzical smile.

  “Sure, I guess.” She stepped out of the car, and he followed after her.

  “This is a nice building.”

  “It was in my price range.” She shrugged. “It serves its purpose, considering I’m not here all that much.”

  “Now you sound like me.”

  “Heh, I guess I do.”

  He felt warm and strong beside her; it felt natural. That realization made her drop her keys as she fidgeted with the lock on her door, their heads almost hitting as they both reached down to pick them up.

  “Hannah?”

  “Y… yes?” she stammered as she put all her attention on the lock.

  “If you'd like, I can look into your past, as well. I wasn't sure if I should offer. I wasn't sure how you would feel about it. But I might be able to find something that would be helpful to you.”

  “How?” She brushed her hair back from her eyes and studied him. “There's absolutely no record of me.”

  “There was no record of Grandma Mary, either. But I found her.” He reached out and swept her bangs out of her eyes, tucking them behind her ear, and she felt the draw of his eyes on hers. “I can find you, too.”

  “I’m… I'm right here.” Her cheeks grew hot. Could he see the blush in them? Was she reading too much into this? “I mean, finding my past, I don't think it will change much,” she countered as she pushed her door open.

  “Maybe not. But knowing your roots might let you put down some of your own.”

  “You think I don’t have roots?”

  “I think you live in an apartment, in your price range, that serves its purpose, and are willing to give every ounce of your time and energy to save a museum that you consider to be your home. I think maybe you're afraid to put down roots, because even though you had an amazing family, a part of you still feels like it is lost.”

  She gripped the doorknob tight. “I never thought of it that way. But, well, I don’t know. Let me take some time to think about it, okay?” She risked looking into his eyes. They were mere inches from her own, and she knew in that moment that he could see right through her—her uncertainty, fears, and maybe even her love—bare before him.

  His eyes brightened, as though he had found hope after a long drought.

  He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. “You know where to find me. I’ll see you soon, Hannah.”

  “I do,” she whispered, closing the door behind her and leaning against it for support. Was Callum interested in her, or was he simply interested in solving another mystery, her mysterious past?

  Callum’s family was well-to-do; his father was a senat
or, and his mother volunteered with several non-profit organizations locally. He had roots, deep and solid, and connections beyond anything she had ever known.

  He couldn’t be interested in her—she must be reading into it. Her emotions had been all over the place since she started working with the quilts. He’s just interested in helping her solve another mystery, and maybe that was enough. She doubted he would be able to find anything, but she was willing to let him try.

  Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she texted: Go for it.

  Within two seconds her phone buzzed, On it.

  Moments later, Hannah settled on the couch and dialed Audrina's number. It rang several times before someone answered.

  “Hello?” The male voice was abrupt.

  “Hi, I'm trying to reach Audrina Bell?”

  “I’m sorry, she's already gone.”

  “Gone?” She held her breath.

  “To the hospital. Are you a friend of hers?”

  “Sort of. Is she ill?”

  “She will likely be passing in the next day or two. The doctors are just making her comfortable.”

  “Oh no, how terrible—and her sister just died.”

  “They were very close. As much as it hurts to lose them, it seems fitting that they go so close together.”

  “Would you tell me what hospital she's in?”

  “She’s unable to talk, but they are allowing friends to visit.”

  “All right, yes, I’ll do that.” Her heart raced as she jotted down the name of the hospital and Audrina's room number.

  Suddenly she knew exactly what she had to do. But could she really go through with it?

  * * *

  The sun was setting as she approached the museum. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She was certain that she shouldn't go through with what she’d planned, but for some reason, she just couldn't resist. She used her key card to enter the museum and nodded to the overnight guard.

  He was accustomed to seeing her come in and out of the museum at all times of the day and night. She let herself into the processing room and opened the trunk. Without the slightest hesitation, she lifted the quilt out of the trunk and held it close to her. There it was, she'd already done it. She'd already touched it without gloves. What difference did it make if she went a few steps further now?

  The vision of Grandma Mary carefully sewing the patches of the quilt together, in the hope that the quilt would keep someone she loved warm, filled her. Audrina was one of her descendants, and this quilt belonged to her family, even if it was donated to the museum.

  Hannah tucked the quilt carefully into her bag, then turned and carried it out of the museum. The bored guard had barely offered her a nod.

  As she drove to the hospital, she reviewed all the rules she’d broken. If Dr. Wagstaff found out, she would fire her on the spot. And yet for some reason, that wasn’t the most important thing to her; it didn't even matter anymore.

  The desire to see Audrina, and let her hold the quilt one last time, was more powerful than anything else she considered.

  Once she arrived at the hospital, she hesitated. What if the hospital staff didn’t allow her to see Audrina? But the woman at the nurse's desk smiled, almost as if she recognized her. “It's wonderful to see family, finally. We were hoping she would have visitors.”

  Hannah cleared her throat and considered correcting her, but that would only prevent her from getting into the hospital room, so she played along.

  When she reached the door of the hospital room, an elderly man sat beside the hospital bed. The woman in the bed was pale, and Hannah wondered if she were still alive.

  “Oh, hello. I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”

  The man stood up as he stared at her.

  “What is it?” She stared back at him.

  “You're the woman I spoke to on the phone? I recognize your voice.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I'm so glad you're here.”

  “I just felt it was best if I returned this to Audrina.” She pulled the quilt from the bag and walked up to the side of the bed.

  “Audrina?” Hannah whispered softly, “I don't know if you remember speaking to me on the phone, about the quilts. But I just want you to know that I found Grandma Mary, and I'm going to find all of her grandchildren and all of her quilts. I promise, I will make sure they are all where they belong. Including this one.” She spread the quilt out over Audrina's body, and placed it under her hands. As she did, a tear trickled down one of Audrina's eyes. It made their faded blue shade seem to glow for a moment.

  Hannah slipped her hand into Audrina's and held it gently, tears streaming down her face. “I'm sure that Grandma Mary would have wanted you to have it, and to know that it will be kept safe.”

  “I'm sorry, she hasn't been able to talk since she collapsed yesterday. I'm sure she appreciates it, though.” The man beside her bed continued to stare at Hannah with wide eyes. She guessed he was touched by the effort she'd made to bring the quilt to Audrina.

  “It's okay, you don't have to talk, Audrina. Just rest. I'll sit with you, if that's okay?” She sat down in the chair beside her bed and continued to hold her hand. Audrina squeezed her fingers just ever so faintly, but enough for Hannah to know she was listening. “I don't know what it is about these quilts, but they are so beautiful. I'm really glad that I had the chance to see them, and to find you.” With her free hand, she traced her fingertips along the pattern of thread on the square closest to her. “I hope it gives you some comfort to have your sister’s quilt with you.”

  Audrina lifted her head some and looked into Hannah's eyes. “It's… yours,” she whispered. Her hand lovingly swept over the quilt and back to Hannah’s hand. “Y… yours.”

  “Oh, thank you, Audrina. I will make sure the museum takes good care of it.” She decided not to add that she would do it personally. She might not even work at the museum after this.

  “No,” the man insisted, “she's telling you it's yours. It belongs to you. What did you say your name was?”

  “Hannah, my name is Hannah Quinn.” She studied him for a moment. With the way he looked at her, she wasn't sure she should have given him her last name.

  “Hannah.” He closed his eyes and nodded, and something Hannah could not identify flickered across his face. Then he tilted his head toward the photographs on the table beside Audrina's bed. “I brought these here because I didn't want her to feel alone.”

  “Oh? Is it her family?” Hannah smiled. “What a lovely idea,” she affirmed, leaning toward the photos. She skimmed the faces in the frames until she came to one that looked almost exactly like her.

  “What?” Hannah stammered. Audrina's hand tightened on Hannah’s again. “H- how is that possible?”

  Hannah glanced at the look-alike photo again. Now she understood why the nurse thought she was family; she also realized that Audrina had the same unusual shade of blue eyes that she did. Everyone commented on Hannah’s eye color when they met her—they were a cross between faded blue and gray, depending on the light and what she was wearing that day. She had never met anyone with her same color eyes—until now.

  “Audrina had a daughter.” He lowered his eyes for a moment. “We had a daughter.” When he looked back up at Hannah, his cheeks were bright red. Her stomach clenched; she felt suspended between dread and something she couldn’t identify.

  “We were just kids, we weren't married, and when we found out, we went to Audrina's father—but he refused to let her marry me. So her parents sent Audrina away and then gave the baby to a family friend after she was born. But Audrina couldn't bear to be apart from her. She tried to be part of her life as much as she could be, but then when the—our child became an adult, she got herself into some trouble. She was lost, had a hard life, we tried to help her, but she refused.

  “And then she had a baby. A little girl.”

  He swallowed hard, lifting his eyes from the floor to Hannah’s. “She dropped the baby off with Audrina becaus
e she couldn't be a mother. We were grateful that she realized that, at least. Audrina was afraid that the baby would be taken away from us if anyone knew, so she kept the baby a secret. She only told me, and her sister. The baby was about five when Audrina's niece found out. She threatened to go to the police. Audrina was afraid that if she did, the child would be given back to her mother, who was involved in drugs, or even end up a ward of the state.

  “Before that could happen, she researched the best possible adoption agencies, and took the baby—she took you—there.”

  “What? Me?” Hannah shook her head. “This is crazy. It's not possible.”

  “It is.” He studied her intently. “I'm so sorry that we couldn't do more for you. I was going to fight for you, but then you were adopted by a great couple, and I was so old already, I just thought it would be better to let you have your life with a young couple who couldn’t have children of their own.”

  “Audrina?” She looked back to her. “Is this true? Are you my grandmother?”

  “It's yours.” She tapped the quilt. Hannah closed her eyes and allowed her fingertips to trace the pattern on the quilt. All at once she realized that it wasn't just a sensation, it was a memory. When she imagined sitting at Grandma Mary's feet, it was actually Audrina she was picturing. When she opened her eyes again, tears spilled from her eyes.

  Hannah felt frozen in time, but as she watched Audrina’s face, she knew her time was short. There was only one thing left to do.

  “I will take care of it, I promise.” She leaned down and kissed Audrina's forehead. “I didn't forget you, Grandmother, please know that. I have always remembered your love.”

  * * *

  Hannah spent the rest of the night, and well into the next morning, holding her grandmother's hand. Though it was hard for her to believe, she didn't question the connection she felt between herself and Audrina.

  Around dawn, she stepped outside for some fresh air and found that she'd missed a call from Callum. She returned the call, and he answered on the first ring.

  “Hannah, you're not going to believe this.”

  “I already know.”

  “No, wait, what? Listen to me, you're going to want to hear this.”