A Stitch in Time Read online

  Isaiah didn’t guffaw as he read. He didn’t even twitch a facial muscle. That was almost worse than if he’d grimaced or yawned. It felt like years went by before he finally laid the pages on his desk and looked at Toby.

  “How do you think you did?” he asked.

  “Well . . .” Toby had never been asked that sort of thing before. He’d always been assigned a grade, and that was that. “I believe I did fairly well, considering these were my first articles. I captured some human interest, I included facts and figures, I remained neutral throughout, and I know my spelling and grammar are correct. I think that with some practice, I could be quite good.”

  “And I agree.” Isaiah tapped the pages. “I see potential here, Toby, and I’d like to offer you the job.”

  Toby’s heart gave a thump, and he struggled to remain calm on the outside. “Thank you, Mr. Burns.”

  “You realize, you do have a lot to learn, so the pay won’t be quite as much to start. But once you’ve got some experience under your belt, this could be a smart career move for you.”

  “Thank you. I’m very grateful for this opportunity.”

  “Well, don’t thank me yet. You’ll have several more parties to attend and cakes to describe before you’re done—I’ll still be handling the really juicy stories until you’ve got a little less peach fuzz. Keep up the good work, Toby—you’ll be there in no time.”

  They discussed his starting salary, which wasn’t impressive, but wasn’t as small as Toby had feared, and they agreed that he would start the following Monday morning. Then they shook hands and he left, feeling a little lightheaded. He’d done it. He’d just gotten a job working for the newspaper—he wouldn’t be digging ditches or hauling logs anymore . . . unless someone needed extra help. He couldn’t picture himself turning down the chance to make additional money. But for the most part, he was going to be a reporter—a genuine newspaper reporter, using his brains instead of his back to earn his living.

  It felt so good.

  He’d go home and write his parents, of course—hopefully they’d start to understand why staying in Topeka was so important to him. His grandmother would be overjoyed, he was sure. And Miriam . . . he wanted to tell her first of all, but she’d bid him goodbye that afternoon. She wasn’t interested in anything he had to say—they weren’t friends anymore, and he needed to accept that.

  Or did he?

  She always had been the most stubborn girl he’d ever met. Maybe he needed to be equally as stubborn and insist that she listen to him. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d say, but he did know that he deserved another chance. It would be helpful if he knew why she’d become so angry with him in the first place . . .

  He’d go talk to her in the morning. Church services didn’t start until ten, giving him plenty of time to show up at her house, plead his case, and see if he could get her to see reason. If he couldn’t, maybe an hour of sermonizing and singing would loosen her up. Pastor Osbourne was always good for interpreting the spirit and making things plain.

  First, though, he had some good news to share with his grandmother.

  The party ended just before sunset. After her chat with Toby, Miriam had gone upstairs for a moment to collect herself, and then she’d spent the rest of the day smiling, visiting, and catching up with her old friends and acquaintances. When the last person finally left, she sank into a chair on the porch, watching Peter Thomas and his father load tables and chairs into their wagon to be taken back to their rightful owners.

  When Esther sat down next to her, Miriam reached over and touched her grandmother’s hand. “Thank you so much. I can’t believe how hard you worked on this.”

  “It was my pleasure, sweetheart. And I had so much help.”

  “Your friends really are wonderful. I didn’t get the chance to visit with them as much as I wanted, though.”

  “You should come with me to my sewing circle meeting. I’m sure they’ve all got dozens of questions to pepper you with.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I could interrupt your meeting like that.” Plus, Miriam couldn’t stand the idea of being peppered with questions. She couldn’t even answer the few that had been posed to her that day. She cringed as she thought about her conversation with Toby. That had gone so horribly wrong. She’d meant to be calm, dignified, and gracious. Instead, she’d been cold, shallow, and rude—it seemed she hadn’t matured at all where Toby was concerned.

  “Nonsense, my dear—you’d be our special guest, not an interruption. And you’d love Jane’s shop. She’s got it set up as nicely as can be.”

  “Kitty was telling me about it. I’m surprised Jane’s able to stay competitive with Appleby’s—they’ve carried all the sewing supplies in this part of town for years now.”

  Esther chuckled. “Well now, that’s just another evidence of the goodness of people. When Jane’s husband died and she needed a way to make a living, it was actually Mr. Appleby who suggested that she open up a shop. He told her that he was finding it hard to carry so many different things in his store, and if she’d take over the sewing goods, he’d be obliged to her.”

  “He did?”

  “That’s right, and he helped her get in contact with the various suppliers and everything. Now the only sewing goods left at Appleby’s are the leftover bits of stock he hasn’t sold yet—he hasn’t reordered anything since Jane opened.”

  “But that must be costing him quite a lot in sales,” Miriam said. “How can he afford to be so generous?”

  “He says he can’t afford not to be. If he can’t take care of the widows, he can’t call himself a Christian. Jane doesn’t know any of this, though—only a few of us do because we helped him talk her into it. And the shop has helped all of us—we have a place to meet and share our sorrows now.”

  Miriam wiped away the unexpected tear that appeared on her cheek. “Oh, that’s just wonderful. What a blessing for all of you.”

  “Yes, it’s one of the reasons why I love it here so much. And why I hoped you’d love it here too.” Esther peered at Miriam curiously, and Miriam knew the moment she’d been dreading had come. “Why aren’t you happy here, my dear?”

  “Oh, Grandma, it’s not that I’m unhappy here. It’s . . . I’m unhappy everywhere.”

  Esther’s eyes filled with tears, and Miriam felt terrible. She hadn’t meant to make her grandmother cry. “You’ve always had a deep sadness in you, something I didn’t know how to fix, and I hoped it would leave you someday. But it hasn’t.”

  Miriam shook her head. “No, it hasn’t. And every time I leave, I have this wild idea in my head that maybe I’ll be happier in the new place, that I’ll find what I’m looking for, but it never happens. Kitty told me I should stay here and get myself sorted out around people who love me instead of running off again, and she’s probably right, but what if it doesn’t work?”

  Esther reached over and took Miriam’s hand. “Sweetheart, if you’re looking for what I think you’re looking for, this is the only place where you can find it.”

  “And what am I looking for? If I knew that, I’m sure it would be much easier to find.”

  “Your mother and father,” Esther replied.

  Miriam’s breath caught in her chest. “What do you mean? How can I be looking for them when they’re dead?”

  “You’re looking for the way you used to feel when you were around them. You’re looking for your mother’s cuddles and the way your father would swing you around when he picked you up. You’re looking for family.”

  Miriam pulled out her handkerchief and wiped her cheeks. “But I’ll never find those things. She can’t cuddle me, he can’t swing me around—that’s over now.”

  “Those things are over, but family isn’t.” Esther looked at her with shining eyes. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  “I know—or maybe I don’t know because I don’t have any grandchildren of my own, so I can only pretend to understand. It’s a whole lot, though.”

  “Ye
s, it’s a whole lot.” Esther wiped at her eyes. “That night, that horrible night . . . We lost our son and we lost our daughter-in-law, but you were spared, and we always felt that was a blessing specifically for us. If you’d been taken too, I don’t know how we ever would have survived our grief.”

  “I sometimes wonder if it would have been better if I’d died too,” Miriam said, her voice low.

  “Oh, sweetheart. Please don’t feel that way.” Esther wiped her eyes again. “You’ve been the light of my life. You’ve given me something to focus on and pray about and be proud of. And now that your grandfather’s gone, if I didn’t have you, I’d be all alone in the world. Please don’t ever wish that—for my sake, if nothing else. This poor little old woman needs you.”

  Miriam slid to her knees and buried her head in her grandmother’s lap. “I’m sorry, Grandma,” she managed to choke out after a moment had gone by. “I should have been here the whole time—I shouldn’t have left you so often.”

  “You were doing what you thought you needed to do,” Esther soothed, stroking Miriam’s hair. “I knew that even when I didn’t fully understand it.”

  “But if I’d stayed . . .”

  “We’re not going to dwell on the past, sweetheart. It won’t do anyone any good. Let’s think about the future, all right? Let’s think about ways to find all the missing pieces and make you whole again.”

  Miriam lifted her face and looked into her grandmother’s kindly eyes. “I think talking to you is a very good first step.”

  “I think so too, and we should keep talking—as much as we need to and for as long as we need to. This isn’t a burden you’ve ever needed to carry alone.”

  “I remember you telling me that years ago, but I never listened, did I?”

  “No, and I blame your father for that. He was the most stubborn man alive, and he must have passed that trait down to you.” Esther chuckled. “You’re so very like him—it makes me happy to see him in you.”

  “Even when I’m being stubborn?”

  “Yes, even then. I often thought I’d never be able to raise him to adulthood, but we both made it, and he became a very nice young man and a good father. Do you remember your parents very well?”

  “Both of them,” Miriam replied. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll pull out all my memories and relive them.”

  “That’s a nice thing to do. I might have to try that.” Esther smiled down at her. “What do you think? Will you stay a while?”

  “Well, I’m certainly not having much success with what I was doing before,” Miriam replied. “I might as well stay here where there’s plenty of baked chicken to be had.”

  “That’s the spirit. Now, would you please get up? Seeing you down there is making my arthritis act up. I’m not as far gone as Viola, but I do have my achy moments.”

  Miriam laughed. “All right. I’ll get up, and I’ll stay. Any other promises you’d like to extract from me while we’re at it?”

  “Yes.” Esther cupped Miriam’s cheek in the palm of her hand. “Promise me that you’ll always be my sweet, sweet girl.”

  “I promise, Grandma. I’ll always be yours. Maybe more stubborn than sweet, but yours.”

  Chapter Eight

  Miriam was outside gathering fresh flowers for the center of the kitchen table when she heard a horse trotting up the road. She shielded her eyes and saw that it was Toby, dressed for church and carrying a small wrapped package.

  Hadn’t she told him she didn’t want to speak with him? Hadn’t she been as plain as day?

  She gave an exasperated growl and marched into the house.

  “Grandma, lock all the doors and bar all the windows.”

  “Whatever for?” Esther asked, looking up from the stove.

  “Toby Johnson is riding up the road this very minute, and I think he intends to make a call.”

  Esther set down her spoon. “Would that be so terrible?”

  “Yes! I told him yesterday that I didn’t want to speak with him. He’s going against my specific instructions by showing up here.”

  “Well, you never know. He might be coming to see me.” Esther turned back to her skillet, a smile on her face.

  “Grandma, that’s not funny.” Miriam folded her arms. “Don’t answer the door when he knocks.”

  Esther turned around again. “First of all, young lady, this is my house and I’ll open the door whenever I please. I might even start opening it at random times during the day and night simply because it’s my door and I have the right to do so. Secondly, I think you should hear him out. Do you remember that stubborn streak of yours we were talking about last night? Well, if you don’t learn to get it under control, you’re going to find yourself regretting quite a lot of things, and I believe that losing Toby’s friendship would be one of them.”

  Miriam opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to come up with a response. Her grandmother wasn’t usually so pointed. “I . . . I’ll let him in, but I can’t promise anything after that,” she finally said.

  “I’ll take it as a start. He’s here now, so you might practice looking a little more pleasant.”

  Miriam tried to smooth out her scowl as she walked toward the front door. She didn’t see any reason to greet him with a smile, but she supposed she could at least try not to look like an ogre. When he tapped, she opened the door and gave him a nod, deciding that civility was her best course of action.

  “Good morning, Toby. How are you today?”

  “I’m quite well, Miriam. How is your sorghum crop coming along this year?”

  She blinked. “My . . . my what?”

  “Your sorghum crop. If we’re exchanging pleasantries, we might as well be thorough.”

  “But we don’t grow sorghum . . .”

  “Then I’ll retract my inquiry.” Toby reached out and handed her the box. “A small gift to celebrate your arrival.”

  “I . . .”

  “Take it. It’s not expensive, and it won’t obligate you to anything.”

  She sighed, remembering how easily he’d always been able to figure out what she was thinking. When she opened the box, a blue ribbon fell out, and dangling from it was a tiny cameo. She gasped, and her hands began to tremble.

  “Toby! Where on earth did you find this?”

  “On the floor at school one day. I knew you’d dropped it, and I should have given it back, but I wanted something of yours, so I put it in my pocket.”

  “And you’ve had it ever since?”

  “It’s been in my pocket ever since,” he clarified.

  Her gaze flew up to meet his. “You’ve carried it with you?”

  “No matter where I’ve gone.” His expression became pleading. “May I speak with you?”

  She didn’t want to let him in, but how could she refuse him when he’d just returned the dearest thing she owned, the thing she thought was gone forever? She stepped back wordlessly and led the way to the parlor, the cameo clutched tightly in her hand.

  “Tell me about the necklace.”

  She sat on the edge of the sofa and looked down at her fist. “It was my mother’s,” she said softly. “It was the only thing I had left of hers. I never took it off until that day—I guess the ribbon came loose. I cried for weeks when I realized I’d lost it.”

  “I’m sorry, Miriam. If I’d known, I would have given it right back.”

  “I should have said something. I’m just so happy to see it now.” She traced the tiny face of the cameo with the tip of her finger. She would get a proper chain and stop taking such risks with it. “You said you wanted something of mine.”

  “Yes.” Toby shrugged, looking a little embarrassed.

  “That’s actually quite romantic for a . . . let’s see. You would have been thirteen? For a thirteen-year-old boy.”

  “What can I say? You brought out the romantic in me.”

  She could tell that he was trying to be light, but his words still cut her to the heart. “Please don�
��t, Toby. Don’t joke with me about something so serious.”

  “Then tell me what you do want, Miriam. Tell me what I did, tell me how to make this right—tell me what happened so long ago that turned you against me.”

  Something deep inside her slammed shut as resolutely as an iron door, and she shook her head. “I don’t want to have this conversation. I don’t see what good it could possibly do, and it would just dredge things up that are best left buried.”

  “And that’s where you and I differ. I think it would do a great deal of good, and we’d both feel better afterwards.”

  “Like pulling a splinter?”

  “Precisely.”

  She shook her head again. “No. Please just go, Toby—thank you for returning the necklace, though. It means a lot to me to have it back.”

  “Even though I’m the reason it was missing this whole time?”

  “Well, yes, but I’m choosing not to dwell on that.”

  He pressed his lips together. “And yet you’re hanging on to that other trespass of mine—whatever it was—without giving me the same courtesy?”

  A headache was forming behind her eyes. “I never said it made sense—it’s just how I feel.”

  He walked over to the doorway of the parlor, then turned. “I’m not giving up, Miriam. I don’t believe that a person should be punished for a crime they didn’t know they committed, and until we get to the root of this, I won’t be satisfied.” Then he left, and she listened as the horse hooves trotted back up the road.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to pull her thoughts together. Was she being unfair to him? Absolutely. He was right when he said he deserved to know what he’d done, but his biggest offense had been wounding her pride, and it was her pride keeping her from telling him that. She didn’t want to admit how very much she’d counted on him, how he’d given her strength she didn’t have for herself and how she’d crumbled when he was no longer there to provide it. She wasn’t strong enough to admit that she was weak.