The early morning routine at the teashop went smoothly enough until Nina arrived. The girl looked shaken, anxious, and wan. Sienna invited her to sit at the tea bar.
“Here, Nina. I think you and I could both use some breakfast before we get underway.” Sienna set a mug of tea and a warm almond pastry in front of both of them. She ate quietly for a few minutes, observing Nina.
“Miss, I may need a ride home again later.” Nina kept her eyes trained on the pastry.
“That shouldn’t be a problem, but I won’t be able to leave until we close at 6:00. Is that okay?”
“Sure. But I may have a ride already. I’m just not sure.” The girl worried her lower lip.
“Is there anything that I need to know about, Nina?”
“I’m not sure, Miss. My sister may have had something come up, is all. I’m nervous for her.” She was silent for a long space. She quickly finished her pastry and drained her mug and made to get up.
“Nina?” Sienna stopped her. “Would you like us to pray about it? You don’t have to say what it is, but we might do better today if we ask for help.”
Nina nodded, and Sienna reached for her hand. She breathed deeply and relaxed into the space within that was a prayer room, where she could see people in the light of God’s love. She sensed the anxiety of pursuit. “Oh Lord God our protector, hide Nina and her sister and family under the shadow of your wings. Keep them safe from those who pursue them, and send the help they need when they need it. Give them a sense of your comfort and presence, through Jesus Christ our Lord. We thank you that this is so. Amen.”
“Thanks, Miss,” Nina said. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, then took their plates to the back.
Sienna sighed, looking around the empty tearoom. Everything was clean and neat, but she walked to the manuscript table anyway, damp cloth in hand. It was clean, not even a sticky spot in sight. Her employees were very thorough. She retrieved a small pot of beeswax and orange oil furniture polish and rubbed the old refectory wood into a fragrant shine. Then she rearranged the pens in the central container, setting each of them nib down. Satisfied, she nodded at the table and went to check the tea stocks. The bins were all amply supplied, the clean teapots lined up, the hot water dispensers at their proper temperatures. Again, she noted the efficiency of her team.
The thought crossed her mind, “I’m not needed here except as an extra pair of hands,” but she caught it by the tail as it passed. “No,” she said to herself. “That’s just guilt speaking because I have not been here much. The systems I set up are working well, and my team is doing excellent work. That’s cause to rejoice, not berate myself.”
Nina returned from the kitchen and slipped a tray of fresh tea sandwiches into the case. “Are we ready to open, Miss?”
“Yes!” Sienna said, noting the time on the clock. It was almost 8:00, and regulars would be along soon. “Thanks, Nina. Would you like to open the door?”
“Sure,” she said, brightening at the small but authoritative responsibility. She walked quickly to the door and unlatched the deadbolts. She opened the roll shade, revealing a warm brown and red logo of a teacup with a feather quill across its saucer. “Tea & Crumples” marched above the logo in an Art Deco print. Nina flipped a carved wooden Open sign forward, just as the warm brown smile of Cleotis Reed, kindly smiling, filled the window between the logo and store name.
“Good morning, Mr. Reed,” Nina said. She stood back, holding the door for him.
“Good morning, Miss Nina,” Cleotis answered. He doffed a tweed hat that he had clearly worn against the cold and held it in one hand at his side. He was completely still as he looked at the young woman, giving her his full attention. “And how is my favorite tea hostess this morning?”
“Well enough, Mr. Reed,” Nina said. Her answering smile did not quite wipe the anxiety from her eyes and forehead. Standing near the tea bar, Sienna was sure Cleotis Reed noticed.
“Hmmph.” Cleotis smiled back at her, a kind and gracious smile that seemed like a dose of strong blessing. It was contagious. Sienna felt her face stretch into a smile, and she saw the tension ease out of the girl’s shoulders and face. “Well, praise the Lord!” Cleotis Reed said, and he went toward his chair at the chess table.
Sienna brought him his usual tea, and she added a few small chocolate wafers to the saucer as an afterthought. She placed them on Cleotis’ right.
“Well, what’s all this?” Cleotis asked, noticing the cookies straight away.
“Nina made them. They’re wonderful. Like the chocolate part of Oreos, but better, and much healthier for you.”
He ate a cookie and raised his eyebrows in theatrical appreciation. “These are wonderful, Miss Nina,” he said toward the girl, who had lingered near the door after his entrance benediction.
“Thank you, Mr. Reed,” she answered. She blushed a little and asked, “Will Mr. Whitmer be here today? I made those for him. He told me he liked nothing better than the cookie part of Oreos, and it was a shame they didn’t make them separate.”
“I don’t believe we’ll be seeing A.C. anytime soon, at least you ladies won’t. I might see him again sooner than most.”
Sienna and Nina stood near, confused expressions playing over their faces.
“A.C.’s with the Lord now,” Cleotis said with a solemn nod. “I was at his funeral yesterday.”
“Oh, no!” Sienna said, and she sank into the chair opposite Cleotis at the chess table. “But I wanted to tell him thanks, for what he said to me last week.”
“I’m sure he knows,” Cleotis said, his somber brown eyes a little darker with tears.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Cleotis,” Sienna said. “He was your oldest friend.”
“Yes, that he was.” Cleotis pressed the tea in the small pot next to him and poured out a cup. Nina, who had bustled away at the announcement, returned suddenly and placed a mug and teapot in front of Sienna.
“Thank you, Nina,” Sienna said. She reached out for the girl’s hand and squeezed. “Please, while we’re the only ones here, would you like to sit awhile, too?”
Nina nodded and pulled up a chair. At length, Cleotis looked toward her again.
“That was very thoughtful of you, Miss Nina, making those cookies. And if I might make free to speculate, I’d say it was inspired, too. Here I am, coming for my morning refreshment without A.C. for the first time in five decades, and I get a reminder of his ways. These cookies may not do A.C. much good right now, but they would have made him happy, and that makes his passing easier on me.”
“Five decades. So you met in the 60’s?” Sienna asked. “You must have been some friends to get together in those days!”
“That’s right. In fact, though not many knew so, A.C. and I were kin, related by marriage. His brother and my sister were married in 1964. When they both died in a house fire, A.C. and his family were the only white people at the joint funeral.”
“A house fire?” Sienna asked, brows knit with doubt.
“To own the truth, it was arson. They were locked in, trapped by men with guns, and then burned up. Seems some people took exception to their union.”
“The Klan?”
He nodded. “After the funeral, my wife and I invited A.C. and his wife and children over for the luncheon, and he saw my chess board. We had our first game right then and there. Had to push aside quite a few hams and plates of biscuits to do it, but we played together well enough.”
“Did you win?” Nina asked.
“Of course.” Cleotis smiled a little. “But I could see that he would be a good opponent. Didn’t think like me, but had a good heart. And I was right about half of that.”
“You did think alike after all?” Nina asked, leaning in.
“After all, I believe we did.”
“He certainly had a way of sharing his thoughts,” Sienna said, a sad smile on her face. “As unassuming as if he was talking about the weather, but in reality he was spreading the grace of God.”
&nb
sp; Cleotis nodded. “He certainly had a knack for speaking his mind. He would truck no unkindness, either. I have come to lean on his good sense like a walking stick. Come to think of it, I suppose I’ve thought of him as God’s way of keeping me in line, one of the manifestations of God’s shepherd staff.” He looked down into the murky swirls of his teacup, then raised his face, brightening. “No telling what kind of mischief I’ll get up to now.”
“He’s built in now,” Nina said. “You don’t have to worry about acting out. True friends are like trees that grow side by side. Even when you die you share the same roots.”
Sienna raised her eyebrows at the girl’s insight. The bell over the door tinkled, and Sienna rose to meet Bethel Bailey, who was already clipping along to the tea bar. “You stay, Nina. Y’all reminisce for a bit. I’ll see to Bethel.”
Bethel fidgeted with her peach tweed jacket, whose boxy cut looked a little too high for Bethel’s stout frame. She fiddled with a brooch as Sienna came around the bar.
“This will not lay right!” Bethel said, looking at Sienna with knitted brows. “Granny insisted on me wearing this—contraption—today!” She gestured to take in her unflattering jacket, “Her friend Ms. Betsy is stopping by the office, and Granny told her years ago that the reason she never wore the brooch Ms. Betsy gave her was that I had fallen in love with the only jacket that went with it and insisted on having it for my own.” She blew a puff of air out through her lips and shook her head. “I’m going to need tea today. Lots of tea.” She leaned forward toward Sienna, who was already laying out the tea things in front of Bethel. Bethel’s eyes narrowed and she grasped Sienna’s hand as the tea mistress set out a clean silver spoon in front of her. “What is it?”
Sienna looked up into Bethel’s kind eyes and almost burst into tears. “Peter’s not doing well. He may not make it. They’ve told me to expect to say goodbye in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh, Sienna!” Bethel gasped. She held tightly to the hand she had captured and looked at her, an expression of compassion transforming her features. After several seconds, she sighed and released her. “And here I forgot to ask Father Max about visiting y’all.”
“You’ve already done so much to help me feel better about life, Bethel. Don’t beat yourself up. Besides, I can ask Father Max to come see Peter when he comes in to play chess with Cleotis later.”
“So you’re not mad at God?” Bethel asked. Her expression was open and bright, as though she had asked a simple question.
“Um, no,” Sienna said, eyebrows raised in surprise. “I suppose I hadn’t considered it. Don’t give me too much credit, though,” she smiled demurely. “I’m still a bit shocked.”
“I don’t know,” Bethel said. She removed the leaf basket from her tea, set it on the saucer next to the teapot, and replaced the lid. “In my experience, it doesn’t take much to get mad at God.”
“What do you mean?” Sienna held her breath a moment, then went on, “I don’t really think of you as someone who gets mad at God.”
“Oh, I fuss at God plenty. But that’s not what I mean. There are some people who get in a hard situation, and straightaway they start hollering. Why did God allow such and such to happen, and how could there be a God if there’s this horrible thing in the world? And so on.”
“So, more like having done with God altogether than getting angry with Him.”
“I guess so. I hear so many people saying they don’t understand how God could do such and such to them, and then maybe they don’t believe in Him anymore. I’m glad that’s not where you’re going. That’s a hard place to walk.”
“Yes,” Sienna said. She watched Bethel pour her tea before continuing. “But those people really think they do understand God, and what they think they understand, they just don’t like. Only, what they think they understand is not God at all.”
Bethel nodded.
Sienna leaned forward a little and lowered her voice. “You know what is one good thing about what I’ve been through, Bethel? I know that God doesn’t leave us in hell. If I have to go through hell again, I want Jesus with me.” She and Bethel exchanged the pained look of those who have lost.
Bethel stood on the rail under the tea bar and leaned forward, hugging Sienna tightly over the expanse of tea things. There was a metallic thunk and a splash.
“Oh, shoot!” Bethel pulled back and looked down. She retrieved the brooch from where it had fallen into her half-full teacup. She set it on a napkin. “I think I’m going to need some more tea.”
Sienna replaced the cup with a fresh one and eyed the brooch on the damp napkin. She gasped. “What is that?” She shuddered.
“I know,” Bethel answered darkly. “Granny obviously felt the same way as you, or she would not have gone to such lengths to foist it off on me. But to answer your question, it’s a tarantula. Ms. Betsy is a retired science teacher, and she thought this brooch—which is modeled on a real spider, if spiders could be gold with crystal green eyes—was just gorgeous.
“Well,” Sienna said, wiping up the remaining mess from the splash, “bless her heart.”
Bethel laughed, sputtering tea into her cup. “I’m glad at least it’s done one good deed today—distracting you a bit.”
Several grad students in corduroy and cotton filed through the door and headed toward the long booth seats with power outlets for their computers. Sienna smiled at Bethel. “I expect I’ll see you again today,” she said. “But for now, I have to go caffeinate the next great minds of academia.”
Nina bustled into action as well, and between the two of them, Sienna and Nina got everyone settled quickly. A few more folks trickled in over the next hour, including Sienna’s favorite stranger, a bearded man who wrote piles of postcards and notes at the manuscript table. Even though she was a little worried that the shop was not more full during the prime caffeination hours of early morning, she was glad to have the opportunity to meet the letter-writing man. He ordered a pot of citrusy green tea and a spicy brioche roll with candied fruit mixed into the dough.
“Here you are,” Sienna said, setting the items to the side within his reach.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Michael.”
“Sienna. I’m one of the owners here. I’ve seen you, but haven’t had a chance to stop by before.” She glanced at his notepaper, neatly stacked with a book of stamps and one of the rollerballs from the jar. “I’m glad you like the pens. They’re the kind I use when I write letters.”
“Yes,” he said, and held up the pen, “I’m always leaving the house without one. I love the table here. It’s perfect for keeping up with friends.”
“You must write a lot.” Sienna smiled.
“I have a lot of friends, all over the world. It comes with being a pilgrim.” His blue eyes were clear and friendly, and his expression put her in mind of men from past centuries who followed long roads in search of God.
“A pilgrim?” she smiled. “I have a friend who’s a pilgrim, too. When she gets back from her latest adventure, I’ll have to introduce you. Y’all can talk about all the places you’ve found God.”
He laughed. “I would like that, thank you. But you know, I haven’t found God on my pilgrimages, or at least not in the destinations.”
“No?” She looked again at the pile of notecards and noticed a second pile beyond them, letters addressed to Michael with postmarks from all over the world. He followed her gaze and smiled.
“Yes, I’ve met a lot of fellow pilgrims. That’s just the thing. No matter where I go, I’m always being surprised to find that God is walking with me all along.” He broke into a grin that took over his broad face.
Sienna smiled, too, and she felt her heart lift. “Well said, Michael. And well met.” She nodded again in parting and went to see to a lately-arrived graduate student.
The morning passed quickly with a steady stream of customers. Sienna and Nina worked behind the scenes and managed to spare a few extra seconds of welc
ome for each person who arrived. Even so, Sienna let out a deep sigh of relief when Lettye walked in just before noon. Lettye was swift to administer gracious welcome and service, and Nina seemed energized by the lunch rush. Sienna seized the opportunity to work in the kitchen, heating dishes, cleaning, and baking.
It was a relief to let her face relax from the forced expression of politeness. She felt her mouth fall into the too familiar lines of grief. The pull of the frown that overcame her when she was alone reminded her forcibly of the weeks after they lost Susan. How many hours had passed while the sun failed to penetrate her eyes? She had stared fixedly at the memory child, warm from her body but so still. Her mind was pulled in equal measures by awe and love at the beautiful girl in her arms and the shocking pain of loss. The teashop had saved her then, its need for her busy hands pulling her along until she saw that she could live despite the implacability of her grief.
But now it was not a help to her. Peter was still alive, and the shop was keeping her from him. She glared at the tea mug in her hand, a fine bone china confection of roses. Its beauty was obscene when Peter was dying alone. Sienna raised the mug above her head, opened her fingers, and watched it smash into pieces on the concrete floor. Belatedly, she noticed the noise. She looked up just in time to see Nina, who was rushing to find out what had happened.
“It’s okay, Nina. Just averting the evil eye.” She glanced down at the shards of china under the sink. “I’ll clean it up.” She pulled her face into what she hoped was a comforting smile.
“No, Miss, I’ll get it,” Nina said, already moving the broom across the floor as she came toward Sienna. “You have a visitor. A lady. She’s asking for you. I think she said her name was Marnie?”
Hope washed over Sienna as she started toward the door to the front of the shop, but it did not last long. She remembered Marnie’s words the last time her family was disintegrating. Marnie had been so sure that Susan would live. Anger jolted through Sienna, and she swallowed it in a heady rush as she stepped behind the tea bar. There was Marnie, glowing as usual, wearing a new set of silver bangles patterned in Celtic knots. She smiled when Sienna walked in, but the expression turned wary as she took in her friend’s expression.
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