Page 26 of Wrapped Up in Christmas Hope
“HIPPA,” Morgan automatically corrected.
“HIPPA,” Maybelle repeated. “Sorry. For once, Rosie’s right. I guess you can’t tell me how he is doing?”
Reluctantly, Morgan shook her head. “Unless a patient specifically gives permission to discuss their case with someone, then I can’t share any information.”
“No worries,” Maybelle assured her. “I’d meant to get over to say hello, but was busy helping Pastor Smith, then with singing, and John didn’t stick around long after it was over.”
No, he’d wanted to go back to his room and had seemed a bit down the rest of the day. Although he’d never have admitted it, Morgan had sensed his frustration with his body not cooperating with what he wanted it to do. Seeing Maybelle likely made him all the more aware of his inability to walk without the aid of a walker. She’d reminded him more than once that he was getting stronger every day and that, Lord willing, he should fully recover with time and continued therapy. Besides, she very much doubted Maybelle would think less of him just because he used a walker...but logic rarely won out in a battle against pride.
“After the singing, a few of us were talking and we’ve decided all the quilts from the sew-in are going to military residents at the assisted living facility.” Maybelle’s smile was positively radiant. “I nominated John for a quilt.”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “For a Quilt of Valor?”
Maybelle nodded. “I should have done so years ago, but just never thought to. He definitely deserves one.” She gave a little shrug. “All our military men and women do, of course.”
Happiness filled Morgan. “Oh, Maybelle, that’s wonderful! He is going to love that.”
Maybelle didn’t look so sure. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
“You have to keep in mind that many of our veterans don’t see themselves as heroes deserving of something special. They did their job and proudly served. Most, especially of John’s generation, don’t want to be recognized for what they see as their honor and duty.”
Both her parents had desk jobs, but she’d always thought them heroic for their choice to serve. She’d never wondered whether or not they, or any military personnel, questioned their heroism. She’d just assumed they saw themselves as she did—heroes she was so grateful for.
“You’re right,” Morgan admitted. “As deserving as he is of recognition, I could see John not wanting attention brought to himself.”
Maybelle nodded. “He’s a humble man, and the last one to expect any kind of recognition for all that he’s done by serving our country and making us so proud with his sacrifice. But that’s exactly why I want him to have a quilt. Especially right now while he’s dealing with his fractured hip, he needs to be wrapped up with some healing and love.”
“Who doesn’t?” Being wrapped up in healing and love sounded good to Morgan. Where did she sign up? And why did her gaze immediately go back to the man bent over the sewing machine, chatting with the others at his table, and obviously keeping the entire group entertained? His table was the noisiest by far, breaking out in loud laughter every few minutes. She found herself wondering if laughter really was the best medicine ever, because she couldn’t seem to prevent the giddy happy feeling inside when he was near.
Not to mention how she had checked the days off between each time they had interacted and was grateful the counter had reset.
Not because she missed him. She hadn’t.
Except...if she was honest with herself, maybe it was, maybe she had. If so, what did that mean?
“This is humiliating,” Ben groaned, staring at the crooked seam he’d just sewn. “Who knew there was anything you could do better than me?”
Running another two pieces of material beneath his sewing machine’s footer, Andrew said, “Hate to break it to you, pal, but everyone knows I’m the better man.”
Ben snorted. “Not sure being able to sew a perfect quarter-inch seam makes you the better man.”
“Listen to you spouting off about a quarter-inch seam,” Cole teased as he delivered a freshly ironed stack of material ready to be sewn together. “At least we know you learned something today.”
Beginning to rip out the scraggily seam, Ben sighed. “A lot of good knowing does me.”
“Quit trying to go so fast,” Andrew reminded him. “Take your time and keep the material lined up with the piece of tape I put on the machine for you to use as a guide.”
Ben finished getting the material back apart, tossed it onto the machine, and let out a loud sigh.
“Maybe you need a break to clear your head and stretch your legs,” Andrew suggested. “How about taking fifteen, going outside, and getting some fresh air?”
Ben considered a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I think I might do that. Want to go with me?”
“I’ll step out with you for a bit,” Cole said.
Andrew glanced back toward his machine and the stack of material waiting to be sewn together. “Let me finish up these, then I’ll head that way.”
