The Dream Stitcher by Deborah Gaal

Author:Deborah Gaal [Gaal, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anchor House Publishing via Indie Author Project
Published: 2018-08-14T07:00:00+00:00

Maude stared at sleeping Bea, whose chest rose and fell in gentle rhythmic abandon. The early morning light exposed a wrinkled, used-up crone on the last leg of a powerless journey, who bore no resemblance to the woman standing before the tapestry hours ago, eyes shining with authority.

Maude left her at the kitchen table with her tea gone cold, moved to the French doors, and stared out into the backyard.

The fog fingered along the grass and snaked up the stone retaining walls, rising like secrets that demand the light of day. Perhaps the same fog encircles the globe through the eons, drifting from Poland to California and floating on the prayers of lost souls. If she breathed in, secrets might warm in her breast and burst into revelation.

She’d suck in the moist. She’d learn everything from her past. All answers checked-off and reconciled.

Maude fastened her robe tight, opened the door and stepped out into the chill.

The vapor enveloped and charged her. Condensation wet her cheeks and tickled her nose. Her hair stuck to her forehead.

She longed to be as fluid as mist, never needing to consider the slope or angle of the earth before settling. How freeing to just let go. Flow downhill and seep into a crevasse, or lift into the vaulted clouds.

“Let go,” Maude whispered to the fog. Let go of her home. Let go of wanting to know her past. Wasn’t it all really about control? Let go of need. Let go of Will.

Would he forgive her if she let him go?

“Live. Live,” he whispered back. “I demand you let me go. Live. Live.”

Maude sucked in a deep breath and pushed out the warmed wet air. “I let you go.” She could feel Will rising out of her chest and into the fog, carrying her loss and pain with him.

A stab of regret punched her heart. There was pain in losing a splinter your finger swelled over and housed. Losing a loss is a loss.

“Wait!” She called him back. “I’m not ready. Come back, Will.”

He’d no power of his own anymore. He seeped back in through her mouth and nose. She took a gulp of him and felt her chest fill with the heaviness she’d grown used to bearing.

She heard the door open behind her and startled. She turned to see Rosie.

“Why aren’t you dressed for work?” she asked.

“Long night with Bea. I’ll go in later.”

Rosie cocked her head and studied her mother. “Something else bothering you? You look kind of funny.”

“I want answers,” Maude blurted.

Rosie looked surprised at her mother’s sudden vehemence. Then her features softened, a smile spreading across her face. “You know I want that, too.”

“The two of us can solve anything, don’t you think?”

“Damn straight, we can. I’ll put a pot on.”

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