Patch of Trouble

Chapter Two-3

NOT ONLY WAS BEATRICE able to take a nap, she was able to work with great focus on her quilt for a good hour without being afflicted by that all-too-familiar restless sensation. She loved the feel of motion in the pattern with the Snail’s Trail blocks in a bold blue and green color wash. She took Noo-noo for an evening stroll, felt more exhausted than she thought she would afterward, ate scrambled eggs with shredded cheddar for supper, and turned in early.

Because of her restful day, Beatrice was wide awake before dawn. She tossed around in her bed in an effort to coax herself back to sleep by somehow lying differently, but couldn’t manage it. She rose for the day, ate tomato soup for breakfast since she’d had breakfast for supper, and then headed out to the hospital. Because it was so early, she hoped she might be able to catch the doctor on his rounds and hear firsthand what he had to say about Miss Sissy’s injuries.

Despite being acquainted first-hand with Miss Sissy’s ravenous appetite, Beatrice decided that hospital breakfast food might need supplementing. Especially considering Miss Sissy’s disdain with the idea of chicken broth and gelatin from the day before. She threw in a couple of English muffins, some butter in a plastic container, and a couple of bananas in a plastic bag. As an afterthought, she grabbed a large, finished nine patch quilt full of vibrant reds and blues, and headed out.

When Beatrice arrived in the hospital room, Miss Sissy was having a lively argument with the doctor, who seemed on the verge of losing his patience. He looked relieved as Beatrice entered the room. “Is this your mother?” he asked.

“She’s not,” said Beatrice briskly. “She’s a friend, though. Is there something I can do to help?”

“I’m trying to convince her that it might be a good idea for her to consider moving to a ... well, a senior living community,” said the doctor. He removed his glasses and absently cleaned the lenses as Miss Sissy fussed at him.

“No!” she said scornfully.

Beatrice saw that the old woman was worked up which probably wasn’t great for any injury-related headaches. She briskly said, “Miss Sissy does have a good number of friends in town. We’ll be sure to help keep an eye on her. She spends much of her day at the quilt shop in Dappled Hills.”

Miss Sissy’s eyes lit up at the mention of the Patchwork Cottage. “Posy is there. And a cat! Maisie.”

The doctor gave a resigned sigh. “I only mentioned it because, if she’s prone to taking tumbles, she might have a fall at home and not be able to get help for a while. That can be very distressing. Does she at least have a cell phone?”

Beatrice shook her head. She knew that Miss Sissy had even had her regular phone service disconnected recently for failure to pay. It had been an oversight on Miss Sissy’s part, and it seemed to indicate that some things were slipping past her.

The doctor glanced at his watch. “I’ve got many more patients to see. Your friend is ready to be released for home. But this is my only bit of advice for you—get her a cell phone. Make sure she knows how to use it and charge it. And that she carries it with her.”

And that I receive the bills, thought Beatrice rather glumly. “That won’t be a problem,” she said. “Thanks for your time.”

Miss Sissy glared at the doctor as he walked out. “Mutant!” she hissed.

Beatrice was used to Miss Sissy’s random insults or name calling, so ignored her. Although she did spare a hasty glance at the door in the hopes the doctor hadn’t heard her. “I brought something for you,” she said quickly, in an attempt to salvage their visit.

Miss Sissy’s beady eyes lit up as Beatrice pulled the quilt from the tote bag and carefully covered Miss Sissy with it.

The old woman reached out a gnarled hand to gently run her fingers over the fabric. “Pretty,” she said gruffly.

Beatrice gave a small sigh of relief. “I’m glad you like it.”

“For me to keep?” asked Miss Sissy, tilting her chin in determination.

That hadn’t really been part of the original plan. And Miss Sissy probably had over a hundred quilts at her house. She’d been quilting for seventy years, for heaven’s sake. And she was a far better quilter than Beatrice was. “Of course,” said Beatrice stiffly.

Miss Sissy smiled in satisfaction.

Now that she was in a better mood, Beatrice decided to move on to a more sensitive topic. “Do you think you could learn to use a phone like this one, Miss Sissy?” she asked. She pulled out her smart phone and handed it to the old woman.

Miss Sissy glared suspiciously at the device. It wasn’t the most expensive phone and it didn’t have all the bells and whistles of some others ... but apparently it was alarming enough.

“Maybe one of those basic phones then,” said Beatrice with a sigh.

Miss Sissy looked cunning. “One that flips open.”

“Oh, so you do know something about phones. You want a flip phone. That should be easy enough,” said Beatrice. “I’ll pick one up and show you how to use it.”

Miss Sissy gave her a scornful look. “I use phones!”

“Yes, but this phone will allow you to send text messages. At least, it will if I buy a plan for it, which I guess I should,” said Beatrice.

Her thoughts on inexpensive pay-as-you-go phones with hopefully inexpensive pay-as-you-go texting were cut short by a rap on the hospital door as Ramsay poked his rather anxious face around it.