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When he hadn’t shown at her place prior to church services, she’d consoled herself that she’d see him later that afternoon.
Coming home to an empty space where he usually parked his truck had disappointed her.
Surely, he’d be by in a few? Not that there was much left to be done on the specific jobs she’d hired him to do.
He’d stayed well under her budget, which meant she could afford some of the projects she’d planned to put off. If he was willing, she’d ask him to start on renovating the upstairs or at least as much as he could get done prior to his leaving for his job in the new year.
The advertisements she’d purchased were set to start running this week, but she’d been actively promoting on social media for months and had visitors lined up for the new year. Soon, Hamilton House would be filled with guests, she hoped and prayed.
She sighed. If only Hamilton House opening didn’t mean Bodie would be gone.
If only he wasn’t leaving, then she could allow herself to think on their kiss, could allow herself to think about him, and dream of what might be.
She didn’t want him to leave, but he would. And soon.
Trying to change the course of her thoughts, she went to her bedroom. After programming her phone to play Christmas music, she flipped on her sewing machine and pulled out the fabric she was making into quilt blocks.
If anything could give her peace, it was sewing. She’d always found taking pieces of material and transforming them into something beautiful, something useful, to be cathartic. An added benefit was that it was something that made her feel closer to Aunt Jean. As she ran the material through the machine, she could hear her aunt’s voice telling her to make sure she kept the seams at a quarter inch.
Oh, how she wished Aunt Jean was there, so she could’ve met Bodie.
After completing several pieces, Sarah stood, set up her ironing board, and turned on the iron so it could heat while she placed a sewn section of fabric on her ironing board.
Although pressed for time with the B & B, she planned to complete another Quilt of Valor in the upcoming year, and at least one annually for all her years to follow. Doing so was yet another legacy to her aunt. And to her mother.
Sarah smiled at thoughts of the quilt she always gravitated toward at her father’s house. The quilt her mother had made him while he’d been away in the service, that she had given him upon his return.
Had Aunt Jean fantasized that each Quilt of Valor she so lovingly made was for Roy? Had those fantasies fueled her constant need to make and then donate the beautiful patriotic quilts?
Taking the iron, Sarah pressed the seams down so the material would lie flat.
She was a lot like her aunt. Hadn’t she dreamed of a love of her own during all the hours she’d put into the special quilt she’d made following her aunt’s death?
She’d poured so much love, so much emotion into every stitch as she’d grieved her aunt. Somewhere, there was a soldier who would return to his love, her quilt in tow, and they’d have happiness.
She’d pour just as much emotion into this new quilt, would send it off to wrap another soldier in love and good wishes.
Lord willing, she’d continue to do so as her aunt had.
Just as she finished pressing the newly sewn pieces, she heard a vehicle pull into her driveway. Her heart kicked into overdrive. That was Bodie’s truck.
Grateful her bedroom had a window on the driveway side of the house, she walked to it and saw Bodie getting out of his truck, Harry jumping out right behind him. Joy spread through her.
She shouldn’t feel such happiness at his arrival, but she did. He’d been at Hamilton House so much that his not being there when she got home had felt wrong.
After unplugging the iron, she practically ran to the foyer. Not waiting for him to knock, she opened the front door.
He stood on the porch, hand poised to knock.
“Hey there,” she breathed, smiling at him. Realizing he wasn’t smiling back, Sarah’s smile fizzled.
Looking at Bodie like this was a flashback to seeing him for the first time when he’d shown up at the community center. Just like then, his expression was tight, withdrawn, almost tormented. What had happened?
“Is everything okay?” she asked, reaching out to touch his jacket sleeve.
Rather than reassure her, he looked back into her yard, his gaze stopping on where Harry sniffed at a bush at the yard edge. “You busy?”
Not sure what she’d expected, her hand fell to her side. “Not doing anything that can’t wait.”
