Chapter Five

After her mom died, Georgie’s mother’s best friend, Margie Garfinkel, tried to fill the void created by her absence. Which meant regular outings to shop, eat, and gossip.

“Oh, Georgie, I can’t believe you did that to that poor boy’s surfboard,” Margie said over margaritas and nachos.

Georgie blushed. “I know, right? Can you even stand that I destroyed this man’s handiwork? I feel so awful about it, and I don’t even have a way to reach out to him to apologize further.”

Margie placed her hand on top of Georgie’s. “Maybe that’s just as well, sweetie. Strange men with rage issues can be a scary thing.”

Georgie rolled her eyes. “Who said anything about rage issues?”

“Well, didn’t he use the f-bomb on you?”

“Of course he did. Same as I would have if he’d ruined something that took me ages to make by hand. Not that I can imagine anything like that, but if there was.” She was still entertaining the idea of making that quilt, but it seemed such a crackpot of a thing to do for someone she’d probably never see again.

“So, he wasn’t enraged at you?”

Georgie scrunched her nose and thought about that for a minute. “Actually no, he wasn’t at all enraged. He was surfer-dude chill. Surprising. I mean I’d be jumping up and down and screaming my head off. But his shoulders sank, his face fell. To be honest, he seemed more crestfallen, if anything.” She thrust out her lower lip in a pout. “I feel awful about that.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Margie took a slug of her drink then smacked her lips. “Oooh-whee! They do make a good margarita here.”

“Well the place is called Margarita Maggie’s so they’d better. It’s practically their calling card.” She pursed her lips, deciding whether to clue Margie in on her idea.

“Something wrong, bug?” The term of endearment always made Georgie feel so loved.

“I was thinking of doing something as a sort of ‘I’m sorry’ gift for the guy. The only thing is I might not ever see him again, so it might be particularly weird to do something like that, you know?”

“Like what did you have in mind?”

“Remember when I made that quilt for Mom?”

She smiled, her eyes crinkling in that warm, loving way that melted Georgie’s heart. “Of course! Your mama treasured that quilt—all that love and devotion you put into making it for her.”

“I enjoyed making that. It was a good thing to do with my idle time too. Perfect for watching TV. So, I thought maybe I’d make an apology quilt. For a man, I’ll probably never see. In which case, it’ll be a penance quilt that I’ll happily cherish.” She giggled.

Margie nodded. “I, for one, think it’s a lovely idea, dear. What man wouldn’t appreciate that?”

Georgie figured it went without saying that Dan wouldn’t have appreciated it. Dan. What a jerk. How could she have been so stupid? She shook her head, trying to get rid of thoughts of that miserable excuse for a man.

“You okay?” Margie cocked her head.

“I’m fine. All good.” She scooped up a chip with lots of cheese and ground beef on it. “I’m thinking about what a schmuck I was to have fallen for Danny Leonard.”

“You weren’t a schmuck.”

“Okay, a fool.”

“Not that, either.” She patted her hand again. “You were a lonely young woman missing her beloved mama who fell for a man who turned out to be a coward. That was not at all about you, Georgie.” Margie pulled her chin toward her with her pointer finger. “You know that, don’t you?”

Georgie shrugged. You can’t be left behind weeks away from a wedding and not take it personally. But she didn’t want to get into the nuts and bolts of it right now, so she simply agreed with Margie. “Yeah, I know.”

“And I bet if he were ever brave enough to come back here, he’d apologize profusely to you.”

“If he ever came back here, I’d kick him in the balls and send him packing.”

They both burst out laughing. “I would be right behind you, maybe with a strong left hook.”

“Now that I’d love to see,” Georgie said, pretending to throw a punch.

“But let’s forget about Dan. He’s history, and there’s no reason to ruin a perfectly good couple of margaritas talking about him. Tell me what else makes you happy these days, Georgie.”

She cast her gaze skyward, thinking for a minute, trying to come up with something. “I’ve been enjoying working with Harper Landry at her shop. She’s sweet and funny, and she’s even teaching me how to make jewelry.” She held out her wrist, on which rested a simple silver band with a swirl in the center of it.

“Did you make that?”

Georgie nodded. “With my own hands. I guess another craft I can add to my crafty resume.”

“You have a crafty resume?”

“Well, I guess informally. I tried to figure out if I had any interesting skills other than scrolling through Facebook too often.” She sighed. “Ugh. Facebook. It’s going to be the death of us all, isn’t it?”

“I hear ya. I decided to go on a Facebook fast for the next month to see if I miss it.”

“I bet you won’t.”

“I bet you’re right.” Margie winked at her. “You can join me. Instead of wasting time on the computer, why don’t you get to work on that quilt?”

Georgie curled her lip. “You don’t think it’s weird to make it for him when I’ll never see him again?”

“I think it’s a delightfully optimistic thing to do. In fact, why don’t we run to the quilt store after this and we’ll find a pattern so you can get started on it? Maybe I’ll look for something little to work on too. After all, we’re going to have lots of time on our hands now that we’re off of Facebook. Deal?” She extended her hand to meet Georgie’s and they shook.

“We’re going to be super uber productive. I can feel it in my bones.”

~*~

“Well, who knew?” Georgia said as she thumbed through patterns and kits at the quilt store. “Apparently the good thing about a seaside quilt shop is that there are all sorts of ocean-themed patterns.” She pointed to an already-finished quilt hanging on the wall. “I love that one. And there are so many different types of jellyfish! I would never have thought to make jellyfish quilts.”

“I love them,” Margie said, running her fingers along the Caribbean-blue background on which three-dimensional, multitextured fabric jellyfish were appliqued. “Which is funny—you know how much of a weenie I am in the ocean because I hate jellyfish. But in fabric form, they’re downright elegant.”

“Remember that time my mom and I literally dragged you into the water because you were so scared of them? We wanted to prove to you that you had nothing to be afraid of.”

Margie shook her head. “Crazy for a grown woman to be afraid of something so insignificant, isn’t it?”

“Totally understandable. We all have those things that scare us.”

“Like for you, I’d venture to guess you’re particularly scared about ever venturing into a new relationship.”

Georgie pretended to thrust a dagger into her heart. “Guilty as charged. I can’t foresee a time in which I’d want to be involved with another man. I think I’m going to take a vow of celibacy and join a nunnery. Although it seems as if that vow of celibacy has been in full force now for the past two years anyhow.”

“Huh. Has it been that long already? Seems like plenty of time to heal a broken heart, no?” Margie glanced at Georgie out of the corner of her eyes as she fondled fabrics.

“Even if my heart heals—and I’m not telling you it can or will—who’s to say I ever want to risk injuring it again?”

Margie nodded. “As someone who has loved and lost and loved again, I hope you are willing to take that chance. Think of how much you might miss out on because you allowed fear to dominate your life. It’s like those people who are so terrified of terrorism that they won’t travel abroad—even though they have a far greater chance of being in a car accident in their own neighborhood. Fear is a terrible burden to carry around for your whole life, hon.” She wrapped her arm around Georgie’s shoulder.

“I know, I know.” Georgie knew intellectually that her mother’s friend was spot-on, but emotionally? There was the rub. It was far easier to, say, make a quilt for someone she’d never see again. That was the type of commitment her heart could handle. It was time to divert this conversation into something a little safer and more comfortable. “I wonder if a surfer would hate jellyfish? They wear wet suits to keep warm, but the suits probably protect them from those nasty tentacles too. So maybe they don’t mind them?”

Margie held her young friend’s cheeks between her hands and fixed her pale blue gaze on Georgie’s. “It’s okay. I’ll let you change the subject on me. As long as somewhere in there,” she paused, then rapped Georgie’s head lightly with her knuckles, “you are registering what I’m saying. So that slowly but surely, you’ll begin to realize how much you are denying yourself by allowing your fear to win out. Promise?”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

“And remember: those surfers? Even if they’re scared of what’s lurking beneath the surface of the big, dark ocean, they keep returning to it, despite those fears. Jellyfish? Sharks? Inherent risks in pursuing their passion. Risks they’re willing to take. And I trust that soon, you’ll be willing to take your chances that there might be other sharks you could encounter, and understand that even if they take a bite out of your heart, you’ll survive. And thrive.”

Georgie knew Margie was speaking logic. And she hoped someday she could believe it. Until then, she would have to be perfectly happy quilting for men she’d never have to worry about again. It was much safer that way.