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It was a stormy week in late March, not the driving blizzard conditions of the previous months, but a constant mix of light snow and drizzle that enveloped the town in a pall of gloom. Folks became surly and were apt to snap a sharp retort at any question.
The dark weather did not affect everyone. The romantics, those people that read, or wrote the books for others to read, those people found such conditions inspiring.
Jake Grady didn't feel inspired, but he didn't mind the constant precipitation. He was a reader, but more than that; he was a smelt fisherman. Since a smelt could care less what happened above the surface of the water and ice Jake didn't either. He rather liked the feeling of sitting in a shack with his dog Mitch, feeling secure that no matter how much snow fell they would be safe and warm in the tiny building. The fact that he paid a dollar for every little bundle of kindling didn't enter into it. It was the feeling of security rather than the blunt truth that he was interested it.
For the uninitiated, smelt fishing is done when the salt water ice in the bays and river mouths freezes solidly enough to support an ice shanty equipped with a bench and a stove. People with good locations sometimes own a dozen or two shanties and these are rented to fisherman for the length of a tide. On a good tide one might catch a bucket of the tasty little fish, but as in most fishing, the size of the catch really isn't that important. It's the experience that counts.
Jake always offered to take Mildred, and she replied she could buy smelts right in the store for $1.99 a pound. But she always wished Jake and Mitch good luck and told them to be careful. There was good reason for this. Many people have died when they broke through the ice. The shanty village where Jake went had plenty of ice and a strong rope alongside the pathway to shore. Still, worried Mildred, ice was ice.
Plus, she had rekindled an old pastime. While at a flea market Jake had expressed an interest in a patchwork quilt. Many were the quilts she had made in times past and she was not about to spend money on one now. Out came her old black Singer sewing machine and boxes of old sheets and scraps of cloth from the attic. When Mildred started on a project she knew no rest until it was complete.
Jake loved to hear her tell the history of the quilts.
"In the old days, those of my mother and my grandmother, nothing was wasted. Cloth was much too precious to be used just once. Instead, when the clothes could be patched no more they were cut up and used to make quilts. Clothing was dark and drab as a rule, so my mother used to buy a piece of red and used a small portion of it in the center of every square. She said every quilt needed a splash of color. She also said the red represented the heart's love that went into the making of the quilt."
Her quilt for Jake had more than a splash of color, for she knew how much he loved the hues of daybreak and sunset. Instead of a traditional New England crazy patchwork she made one which featured strips of red, brown and gold. All circled around that one red splash in the center, which represented the heart's love.
Jake often tried to help her by ironing the cloth and cutting the squares and strips, but she was more fastidious than he was and usually said in mock exasperation, "Jake, why don't you take that mixed up dog of yours and go fishing."
To which Jake would flash his boyish smile and reply, "Certainly, my dear, whatever you desire."
So on one such evening Jake and Mitch spent a relaxed evening in a shanty, catching few fish but having the time of their lives. The dog had a way of tipping his head that made Jake think he was listening intently, so he had no qualms about talking to him.
"I'm tired tonight, Mitch. More than I should be. Maybe I should get a check-up. I've never been sick so I haven't even got a doctor. If I'm still this tired I'll go to that little medical center in town. Probably I just need some vitamins or something."
In the morning he was still tired and he did go to the medical center. There the doctor showed a lot more concern than Jake had expected. "I'm taking you to Mid-Maine Medical. You need a pacemaker."
"Right now?" Jake asked. In his mind he was wondering how to tell Mildred without worrying her.
"Right now. Let's go."
A quick call home, and then Jake was in surgery. It went well, with no unnecessary probing and pushing, and before he knew it he was awakening in a hospital bed, feeling good.
Mildred was just leaving the elevator on the floor of intensive when the nurses started running. Jake was totally surprised when he was shifted to a gurney and wheeled out the door. In thirty seconds he was strapped in a helicopter and being transported to Portland.
"What's going on?" Jake asked.
"A strand of wire went through the side of your heart. Don't worry, Portland has one of the best heart surgeries in the country."
"Worry? I didn't even know anything was wrong." In fifteen minutes he was back under anesthesia and entering another surgery.
Mildred got only a glimpse as they wheeled him out of his room and toward the helipad. How helpless he looked, strapped to a gurney and surrounded by burly male nurses. She instantly made up her mind and went out to jump in her car. If Portland was where he was going then she was too.
She had never liked to drive. Her normal route did not stretch more than eight miles from her house and she was quite happy to keep it that way. Mildred was loath to admit it but the pictures of the wrecks in the papers scared her deeply. She had never driven on a road featuring more than two lanes. But no matter - if Jake was going to Portland then she was too.
With a look akin to a claustrophobic person striding into a closet she clenched her jaw and went to a gas station, where she filled up and bought a road map. Then she headed south. And who can blame her if once, well, maybe twice; she laid on her horn as she forcibly changed lanes? She finally arrived at the hospital, a bit frayed; but safe and sound.
When she found Jake in intensive he was awake, waiting for her. "I knew you'd be here. I could feel you getting closer."
"Oh, Jake, I was so afraid. I don't like being away from you."
"You're here now. That's what matters." He looked around the room. "I wish there was some way you could stay right here with me."
A nurse, one with experience in emotions as well as physical ailments, said not a word, but wheeled in a folded bed and parked it snug against Jake's. "You'll need a blanket," she said to Mildred.
"No," came the reply, "I've brought one with me."
In ten minutes the nurse looked in again. Mildred was already asleep, and a smiling Jake was close to it. Their entwined hands were visible over the top of the quilt.
It was a home made quilt, with strips of color to represent the hues of daybreak and sunset, and each center contained a piece of red, which signified the heart's love that went into its making.
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