gone, bringing, at least
light, and sometimes, the precious sun.
There was hope in the light, despair in the thickness. I knew I'd have to make the back of
my quilt a solid gray to represent the fog. "The Beach in Winter" I called it.
But the frontpiece was giving me fits. Until near spring when I remembered what Willie
had said about David painting Haystack Rock.
That was it!
I'd put Haystack in the middle on a background of bright blue. The rock would be
reddish brown, like it is sometimes when the evening sunset turns the sky red. Surrounding the
big center square would be yellow suns, embroidered all the way 'round. The border would be a
pale blue, quilted to look like waves.
I started with the Rock, as it was the central, most important piece, drawing its shape on
a pad I had left from school and kept in my quilt bag. The Rock was in clear view from the front
window, except when hidden by fog. I spent hours trying to copy it.
I couldn't get it. The harder I tried the worse it looked. I'd make it too big for anything
else to be around it. I couldn't get how it looked with the whole of the sea and sky surrounding it.
I spent many hours by the window sketching it in different weathers. Finally I put it away and
went back to work on the boys' quilts.
7. What Are You Doing Here?
Along about the end of March the weather started clearing. It was still rainy and foggy
most of the time, but the long winter was finally coming to an end.
After I learned that David was married, I wasn't at the window so often. For the first
three days or so I hid in my bedroom when I saw him leave the beach below, and only came out
when I was sure he'd had time to pass. But finally I could stand it no longer, I missed his smile
too much.
If my romantic dreams couldn't come true I could at least be friendly. The poor man, I
thought, stuck in the house with a sick wife, probably a whiney invalid. Perhaps our daily
exchange was as important to his life as it was to mine--in a different way of course. By that
time, David had assumed such saintly proportions that I couldn't conceive of him being
unfaithful to his wife, however much a trial she was to him.
On the fourth day, I had gone into my bedroom as usual, but after a few minutes I spread
the curtain cautiously and looked across the room out the window. David had just come in view
and he was looking directly at the cabin. His face had a searching, troubled look and his
shoulders were slumped.
I couldn't bear to see him like that. I came out and walked over to the window.
As soon as I appeared his whole appearance changed. His shoulders went back, his step
was lighter and his face lit up in a big smile.
I was exhilarated and terrified. His hold on me was total, and I knew it. And we'd never
even spoken a word. As he passed he stopped and said, "I missed you." Then he went on. I
couldn't hear the words but I knew what he had said.
The rest of the day was a haze. I tried to sew, and couldn't. His words kept repeating in
my brain, "I missed you. I missed you. I missed you." I had imaginary conversations with him
where I went out the door and took his hands in mine and looking deep into his eyes said, I
missed you, too.
Come away with me, he pleaded.
But your wife?
What wife? I have no wife.
But, the woman on the beach?
Oh, that was my sister who was ill and here for the sea air. She is gone now, so
come and live with me in my beautiful house.
Gladly, I answered.
Thus I easily dismissed the wife. She didn't exist for David and me. Still I had sense
enough to try to cool my behavior. I seldom stood at the window anymore. When he came by, I
would be busy sweeping or kneading bread, or at the stove. He would get a nod or a slight wave
but I kept my face busy, paying attention to the work I was doing. He must not know how
completely he had me, how I lived each day to see him, a man I didn't even know.
'Round about the end of March, first of April, I started working outside on the garden.