“Quiches?” Sienna asked.
“No. That can be another class. In the spring. Easter quiches, maybe,” Lettye said.
“What about you, Lettye?” Nina asked. “Do you have any ideas for a class?”
Lettye and Tovah exchanged glances. “Actually, we,” she gestured between herself and Tovah, “want to do an ongoing series of lessons on social graces in stationery.”
Sienna nodded. “I love the idea! Do you think you might add the manners of the tea table as well? How to have tea with a friend, from inviting her to pouring out?”
“Or him,” Tovah smiled. “Invite your young man to tea.”
“Win over your crush with tea.” Nina smiled shyly. “I like it. Sign me up!”
They had just finished their cake when Tovah focused on the door. “Look who’s here. Sienna, you want to let Marnie in? I think we can trust her in the place for the four minutes before we officially open.”
“Hmm?” Sienna turned and saw her old friend. “Oh, yes.” She got up to open the door while the others cleared up the remains of the breakfast party. She hadn’t seen Marnie since the day of her meltdown over Susan. So much had happened since then. She hoped that she had not been as abrasive as she recalled. At least she hoped that Marnie would forgive her. She unlocked the door and opened it.
“Sienna.” Marnie stepped forward and hugged her. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You, too.” She hugged back. “Thank you for going to see Peter.”
Marnie looked startled.
“He told me how you talked about Susan. I think I understand now.”
“Oh.” Marnie looked relieved. “I’m glad.” She stood awkwardly in the entrance and eyed her friend warily. Susan was a sensitive subject, and Sienna had often been put off by reminders of her.
“Come in and let me make you some tea.” Sienna shut the door behind Marnie and ushered her toward the tea bar. “I wanted to thank you for praying for us and for talking with me last time you were here. I know I wasn’t very receptive.”
“It was a lot to take in. Susan was your daughter, and I misled you about her. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even know I was doing so. But that had to hurt.”
“It did, but it also helped. You gave me another way to remember her. Another way to be grateful.”
“That’s a relief.” Marnie let out a big breath.
“Peter said you came to pray for him on the baptism night.”
“Baptism night? Who was baptized?”
“I mean, the night so many people came to visit and pray. The night he was healed. I had a dream about you, but I didn’t know it was real.”
“Is that where baptism comes in? Was I laying down my burden down by the riverside?” Marnie sang the last bit in deference to the hymn. She knew all the old Southern baptism hymns, even if she was about the highest church Episcopalian of Sienna’s acquaintance.
“Hmm?” Sienna was distracted by the music. She got caught up in memories of summer church services and had to stare at Marnie for a moment to recall the conversation thread. “Oh, sorry. No. It’s just that the night reminded us of my baptism, when so many people helped bring the water to the font. We figure Peter was healed the same way. Healing by the handful.”
Marnie laughed. It was a deep, warm sound that shook her belly. “I guess—” She reached into her jacket pockets and brought out two handfuls of dried red petals and pale green leaves. She caught her breath around her laughter and tried again. “I guess that’s why I felt nudged to bring you these.” She moved her cup off her napkin and put down the blossoms. “Dried bee balm from our garden. Two hands full.”
“Two hands full of grace.” Sienna smiled and fingered the delicate dried herbs. She decided to put them into a new blend she was making. “Seems appropriate. You have been there with us through this whole ordeal. Through these ordeals. The shop, and Susan, and Peter. Bringing healing by the handful. Only, I didn’t notice right away what was happening. You’ve kept me sane, Marnie. Thank you.”
“Oh, Sienna. My dear friend, you are a joy to me.” She touched the delicate pink and yellow chintz china cup that Sienna had set in front of her. “I’m glad to be able to give you something with my hands.”
The bell rang at the front of the shop, and Bethel Bailey marched in, followed immediately by a rush of graduate students toward the bank of booth tables.
“You must be Marnie,” Bethel said, extending her hand. “Bethel Bailey. Regular customer, Orthodox Christian, friend. Father Max said you prayed with him the other night, and I was to satisfy my curiosity about you in person as soon as I might.”
“Did he?” Marnie smiled. “Glad to meet you. Though, I hope I’m not too much of a curiosity.”
“You’re a pilgrim and a praying person, which makes you odd enough, I suppose.” She burst into song, “To be a pilgrim! And all that. Well, you are the type of stranger that God kept back as a little treat, as my granny says. I expect we’ll get on perfectly.”
Marnie grinned without even stopping to consider whether she was being flattered. “I couldn’t ask for a better recommendation than that. Do you go on pilgrimages?”
“Bethel is the one who gave me the ‘Susan Was Here’ pilgrim assignment.” Sienna placed a cup and a fresh pot of Bethel’s favorite tea on the counter in front of her. “She goes to Father Max’s church, and her husband is studying to be a priest.”
“But I used to be Baptist, which is why my name sounds like a church name. Well, that, and Granny’s ornery streak.” Bethel launched into the story of her name while Sienna went to the kitchen to retrieve the cream and cream pitchers. When she returned, Bethel had just concluded, “It’s better than being called Second, I suppose. Secundus, isn’t that what Romans called their second sons?”
“You’re right. Your name suits you., Marnie said. “I’ve been to Bethel. It’s where Jacob dreamed the ladder to heaven. The front gate to heaven, some think. I guess that means you are a face that people see when they knock on God’s door.”
Sienna smiled at Bethel’s expression. The women would doubtless get along well; they were the very picture of iron strengthening iron. She busied herself nearby so she could enjoy the happy opportunity of watching them.
“You’re a healer and a seer,” Bethel said. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind my coming out and saying it. I don’t mind beating about the bush when it’s needed, but I think you know I know.”
“I’m on the healing prayer team at church, yes. And I pray that God will show me the way.”
“Tell me about your bracelets,” Bethel said, her tone casual, her eyes sharp. “The patterns are beautiful. I noticed them in the photo Sienna showed me. They remind me of bandages.”
Marnie, who had extended her wrists out of her long sleeves to show Bethel the bracelets, flinched and pulled them back at her last words. “Do they?” she asked. “I designed the patterns based on Celtic knotwork in some of the manuscripts of medieval Gospels. Have you seen the Book of Kells? I try to go see it at least once every few years. We like to travel to the Celtic isles. A lot of the saint sites escaped the Reformation. Of course, there wasn’t much to destroy, what with the simplicity of the hermits. The great church paintings are gone, of course. That pains me.”
Bethel reached out and touched the silver band around Marnie’s right wrist. “I imagine it does pain you. But what a gift to see them. There are certain losses that are restorative when we see them.” Her words were neutral enough not to draw the attention of the people around them. Bethel might have been lamenting the loss of church art, but Sienna could tell that Bethel was talking about something more immediate. She relocated the bowl of tea she was blending so she could watch her friends more closely.
Marnie nodded and looked Bethel in the eye. “You know.”
Bethel nodded once.
“Father Max?”
Bethel shook her head. “I knew before. He didn’t tell me, but I do math for a living and figured it out. There are certa
in types of math that you get used to when you walk among people becoming like God.”
“I see.”
Sienna stopped her work sniffing bins of tea and stared from Marnie to Bethel, to Marnie’s wrists. She remembered the bright light from her dream on the night Peter was healed. Marnie had a burn mark showing around the edge of the bracelet Bethel had touched. Surely not. Surely her friend did not bear the marks of Christ. Marnie turned to Sienna and looked at her. A wave of deep love welled inside Sienna. It brightened her memories of the days with Susan, with Peter, even memories that might have been of the future. The feeling bubbled to her lips. “Thank you.” Sienna said, and she remembered.
Susan was lying in her arms, frail and still warm. Sienna heard her own voice, the words she had spoken to the child before the cord had been cut. “My dear little girl. Susan, I love you so much. I am so grateful to be your mother. I love you so much, you wonderful child.” She had repeated it over and over, touching the miniscule fingers. She had kissed her daughter’s tiny head, her unopened eyes, the perfect ears.
It was the worst day of her life, but now that she recalled it, it was beautiful. She was smiling; she was crying; gratitude and memory were one. Marnie reached out and squeezed Sienna’s fingers, wiped her cheek with the back of a healing hand, and pulled her friend into a bear hug. Bethel joined in, squeezing them both so hard that Sienna laughed. She looked around, worried that she was making a scene. Cleotis Reed caught her eye and smiled, nodded. Her embarrassment melted away in the warmth of the hugs and memories.
“This,” Sienna whispered. “Here.” She hugged Marnie and Bethel harder. “Susan is here. This is what I wanted for her, had she lived. And she does.”
“For nothing shall separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus,” Marnie said.
“To God, all are alive,” Bethel answered.
“It’s true,” a deep masculine voice affirmed. Sienna looked up and saw Father Max standing at the counter.
Notes from Sienna’s Tea Files
Tamsin Tippett, 37, lawyer: Rooibos with brown lump sugar (or caramel if available). Strongly brewed, can withstand long exposure to heat.
Chapter Eighteen
Sienna pulled away from the group hug. She smiled at Father Max, at Bethel and Marnie and said, “Tea,” then bustled to the kitchen to wash her hands and face and put together a tray.
She pulled out the silver teapot from its flannel cozy, preheated it, and brought it to the front. Father Max was not the type to tell tales, but she wanted to thank him for being so gracious. His face reddened over his beard when he looked up from setting up the chess table with Cleotis and saw the silver pot, the pile of cookies and pastries on the best china, and small, intricate silver teaspoons alongside a Russian tea glass held in antique silver.
“On the house,” she said. He nodded acceptance and glanced toward the tea bar where Bethel and Marnie sat in animated conversation. When he looked back to her, she thanked him simply and left him to his match.
At lunchtime, Nina emerged from the kitchen with a wave of sweet-cinnamon scented air. She carried a tray of mini churros around to all of the customers and told those who accepted one about her upcoming class. The shop buzzed with the warm fragrance of churros and the buzz of hungry minds and bellies. Sienna, Lettye, Jessie, and Nina were all busy with tea customers before the lunch hour was out, and Tovah seemed to be making a bride and her mother very happy in the stationery area. Sienna walked toward the paper alcove to find out the reason for the laughter. She had reached the journal stand when a commotion by the front door called her attention back to the shop.
Four children stood by a tea table full of ladies-who-lunch. The children craned their heads eagerly toward the tea stand of desserts. A tall woman suddenly filled the frame of the door. She spoke quietly, and the children withdrew to a polite distance and smiled at the table of ladies.
“Maria!” Sienna rushed forward to welcome her. “You made it! Let me get you a table. Or here, come to the tea bar. All the larger tables are filled right now, though of course you are welcome to go watch the chess table any time.” She laughed as the little boy and one of the girls nipped straight over to where Cleotis and Father Max were deep in a match. “Of course you know Father Max. Come, come. Let me make you something. No, don’t worry about the children. They are most welcome here.” Besides a little extra twirling and dancing, the children blended in well with the shop as though they were accustomed to civilized settings.
“My children create their own weather.” Maria smiled. “Still, they will probably be relatively calm, especially with Father here. Oh, what’s this? Peanut butter pastry? The peanut butter makes it healthy, right?” She assisted a little girl into the high pink barstool while another girl pulled herself up in a neighboring spot.
“What will you have, mademoiselle?” Sienna asked the smallest girl.
“Tea, please.”
“With cream and sugar?”
“Yes, please!”
Sienna raised her brows in question to Maria, who nodded confirmation. Sienna prepared a large pot of malty Assam for the family and paired it with raspberry thumbprint cookies and a plate of the peanut butter pastries sliced into smaller servings. She placed the tray of tea things in front of Maria, who, now that Sienna had a chance to look at her sitting, sported a growing pregnant belly. Sienna added a bowl of fresh fruit to the tray.
“Now, shall I pour for you?” Sienna held up the pot over Maria’s stein. Maria nodded, and Sienna smiled in approval as the rich orange brown filled the glass cup and contrasted with the brightly painted design. “Oh, that is lovely. I can see why you prefer it over ordinary cups.”
“Plus the lid keeps the tea warm a little longer.” Maria brought the stein toward her and breathed the fragrant steam. “This smells amazing.”
“Shall I pour for the children, too?”
“Yes, please. They take extra milk.”
“I’ll leave room.” Sienna filled two pale pink cups halfway and set them by Maria. Maria looked at her girls’ eager faces and sat up straighter, simultaneously composing her face.
“One lump or two?” Maria asked in a precise voice.
“Two!” the girls chimed simultaneously. Their mother added the sugar and some milk, handed the cups to the girls to stir, and placed a few treats on each saucer. “Thank you,” they said, and set to eating.
“Bethel will be here soon. Do you know her?”
“Bethel Bailey? Yes! She’s the one who convinced me to make the trip out to try this place. She told me you had a real gift for picking teas. She was right.” Maria inhaled the steam again and sipped from her stein. “This is wonderful.”
“Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom,” the youngest girl said. Maria excused herself and took the little girl’s hand. They set off toward the ladies’ lounge. When they returned, Maria’s face was bright.
“That is the most child friendly restroom I’ve ever seen. Do you have children?”
“I had a little girl, but she died at nineteen weeks gestation. We planned the space with her in mind, though.”
Maria’s hands flew to her belly, but then she reached out to Sienna. “I’m so sorry for your loss. We lost one child, as well— a little boy. Of course, he died too early to know it was a boy, but I thought he was a boy. We named him Isaac.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, too. But I’m glad to hear Isaac’s name. It feels good to honor the love we have for babies, even when they don’t grow up.”
“One of the things I love about Orthodoxy is that I have a relationship with our son even though he’s gone. There’s a connection through prayer and the liturgy and saints. He prays for us, and we for him.”
“For to God all are alive.” Sienna repeated Bethel’s words from earlier that day. Maria nodded and looked into her tea. Sienna gave her a moment to recover. “It’s so strange. I just had a conversation about this very subject this morning with Bethel. But I don’t want to upset
you by dwelling on loss. You strike me as someone with a lot of joy.”
“Well, they go together, don’t they? The disciplines of motherhood bring us joy and sorrow. But mostly joy. A sword pierced Mary’s heart, but she fell asleep in the joy of the resurrection.”
They were joined by the two children who had gone to the chess table. The boy held Father Max’s hand. “Mama,” he said, “Father Max is going to be in a chess tournament, and he says I can watch if you want to bring me.”
“Me, too,” the oldest girl chimed in. Father Max greeted the seated members of the family and made the sign of the cross over them in blessing.
“Is there a child category in this tournament?” Maria asked.
“I don’t think so,” the boy said.
“Oh, can there be?” asked the girl.
“That’s a very good idea,” Sienna answered. “We don’t have plans for a youth tournament this time around, but let me get with my staff, and we can set one up for future. When are y’all out of school?”
“We homeschool,” The oldest girl answered matter-of-factly and climbed onto a barstool. She accepted a cup of tea and plate of pastries from her mother, then turned back to Sienna. “You can find the calendars of the local school systems on the Internet, though. That’s how I plan my sleepovers. Public school kids don’t get much time off, so you have to plan carefully.”
“Thank you,” Sienna said. She turned to Father Max. “So you’ll be joining us this weekend? Excellent. I suppose you’ll be in the higher tier of players, but you are welcome to come earlier to watch the other matches. We probably won’t have to use the overflow site until Cleotis starts accepting challengers that afternoon.” Father Max nodded acceptance.
“Actually, I was hoping you would join us now at the chess table. We have been having a most interesting discussion on miracles, and I think you will like seeing the resolution.”
“If your chess game has gotten to the degree of miraculous, I think I’d better go see.” Sienna excused herself to Maria and commended the family into Nina’s capable hands. Nina immediately plied the children with churros and drew Maria into conversation about the best oils for cooking Mexican cuisine. Sienna paused on her way to the chess table long enough to pour herself a mug of tea, then made her way through the tables of low conversation to the front window.
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