But then without warning, the tears came. And the sobbing.
The only thing was, she wasn’t sure what she was crying about most. There were so many things causing her mind to reel—and her heart to break.
Was it the fear of her situation that shattered her most? The sorrow of possibly losing the Cottage? The anger at herself for being so naive and careless, so unorganized?
Or was she feeling bad for the way she’d treated Lydia? What a brat she’d been to her friend all afternoon, hadn’t she? But every time she’d looked at Lydia, all she could think was how she might have to let her go soon. And, oh, how she didn’t want to disappoint her friend! How she didn’t want to turn Lydia’s life upside down when she’d just gotten into a routine and seemed so comforted by it.
As it was, Jessica had already been wondering how she would afford to keep Lydia when business slowed down after the holidays. She’d been stewing about that, trying to come up with possible solutions. But now with the extra bill . . . it might be even sooner that she’d have to let her go. And then what would she do? If she lost Lydia, she still didn’t know enough about knitting and quilting to run the shop herself. Not to mention, the Cottage wouldn’t seem the same without Lydia and her smile lighting up the shop each day.
And then, Derek. She’d tried to act like all was good when he’d called earlier in the day, but somehow—someway—he knew otherwise. He’d kept asking if she was all right. She wished he’d just quit asking because there was no way she was going to load him down with her troubles. He couldn’t be her go-to guy forever. He had a life of his own to live.
And she needed to carry on with her life as well.
Whatever that meant . . . whatever that looked like . . . however she was going to do that.
Her brain was such a jumble of thoughts and her heart such a mess of emotions that at first she barely heard Cole’s voice calling to her in the dimness of the bedroom.
“Mom? Mommy?”
Feeling like she’d been caught, she hurriedly wiped the tears from her cheeks. Sitting up in bed, she saw Cole standing in the shadow of the doorway.
“Cole, what are you doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he complained, even though he rubbed his eyes sleepily with his fist.
“Did you have a bad dream?” She thought he’d gotten past that phase for the time being. But maybe not . . .
“No.” He leaned forward, poking his head into the room. It seemed as if his eyes had adjusted to the dark and he was seeing something he hadn’t noticed before. “Mommy, were you crying?”
“No, I wasn’t.” She sniffed. “I, uh, I just have a little cold,” she lied as she plucked a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand and blew her nose as if to validate her words.
Even so, all four feet of him leaned against the doorframe as he stood staring at her.
“Cole, you need to go back to bed and go to sleep. In fact, we both need to go to sleep.”
“But you don’t have your pajamas on,” he countered.
She imagined she did look odd to him, lying in bed, wearing the same clothes she’d had on all day.
“I was taking a rest before I sleep.” That was the truth at least.
“Oh.”
“Cole, if you didn’t have a bad dream, what are you doing up?”
“You forgot to say my prayers with me again.”
“I did?” Jessica bit her lip. She wasn’t doing much of anything right lately, was she?
Cole nodded. “Did you forget to say your prayers too?”
“Well, I, uh . . .”
“We can say our prayers together,” he suggested, a hint of hopefulness in his voice.
Her lips twitched at the sweetness of his suggestion. If one thing was certain in her uncertain world, she could always count on her son to bring out a smile in her. “Yes, I suppose we could.”
She flipped back the covers the rest of the way, ready to get up and take him to his room. But he took her act as an invitation and flew into the room, hopping straight into bed with her. Sitting alongside her, he pulled the blanket up to their waists, tucking it around them.
“Should we say our prayers now before we forget again?” he asked.
“That sounds like a good idea.”
He put his hands together and pointed them upward. Then he glanced over at her to make sure she had followed suit. She quickly clasped her hands, holding them to her chest. Eyeing her, Cole nodded his approval.
“Ready?” he asked.
“You start.”
He giggled. “No, you.”
“All right.” She drew in a breath and was about to acquiesce when he stopped her.
“No,” he blurted. “I changed my mind. We should say the words together.”
“Okay, on the count of three. One.”
“Two.” He smiled.
“Three.”
“Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep,” they prayed, their voices blending together in the dark. “Let angels sleep by my side, and bless the day when I rise.”
“God bless Mommy,” Cole said.
“And God bless Cole,” Jessica said.
“Amen.” As they finalized the prayer in unison, quick as a rabbit slipping underground, Cole slid down and snuggled deeper under the blankets.
“Cole, you can’t sleep here tonight.”
He popped open one eye. “But you sleep with me when I’m sick or scared.”
“I’m not really sick sick, and I’m not scared. Everything’s fine, sweetie,” she fibbed again.
But he closed his eyes tight and lay perfectly still, which she knew was no easy feat for him, and pretended he hadn’t heard her. Pretended that he had already drifted off to sleep. Glancing down at him, she didn’t have the heart or the energy to budge him.
Instead, she looked at her hands, still folded together, still pointed to the heavens. Oh . . . Cole was right, wasn’t he? She had been forgetting to pray for a while now. Well, not forgetting exactly. She just hadn’t wanted to. Didn’t know what to say to God. Didn’t feel close to Him. Not when He kept taking things that she loved away from her.
Although . . . She squeezed her already-clasped hands. Maybe this would be a good time to start a conversation with Him after all.
Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and waited. Waited for thoughts. Waited for some kind of feeling—for anything to come. But all she felt was the emptiness inside her. Somehow, like always, He felt distant from her. Way too far away.
“I’M SORRY TO CALL YOU SO early in the morning, Liz,” Lydia said as she stood shivering inside the unheated phone shanty, trying to control her chattering teeth.
In the past few months, she’d walked across the street to the shanty to make calls more times than she ever had in the entire eight years she’d lived on Quarterhorse Road.
Most of the calls had been to one of the town’s driving services to secure rides to work. None of them had ever been to Liz. Even though her friend had given her a number to call a while ago, Lydia had never had a reason to use it. Actually, she still didn’t know if she had a good reason for calling Liz. She’d been debating that fact all through her restless night of sleep.
“No problem at all, Lydia,” Liz replied, sounding completely awake and even glad that she’d phoned. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure—” her voice quavered mostly from cold, but from worry as well—“but something doesna seem right with Jessica.”
There was a silent pause on the other end of the phone. “Not right? Do you mean you think she might be sick or something?”
“I really can’t tell.” Jessica’s physical well-being had been a concern of Lydia’s from the start, especially from the way she had been acting. Seeming so out of sorts, as if she’d gotten bad news that she hadn’t been expecting. “All I know,” Lydia explained, “is that ever since she went out to run errands the other day, she hasn’t seemed the same. She came back to the Cottage in the worst of moods
, as if something had gone verra wrong. She wasna too pleased with me, neither, and had some sharp words to share.”
Of course, Lydia never expected that Jessica wouldn’t ever have problems with the work she was doing. Nothing about her or anyone else was perfect; that was for sure. But generally if Jessica did have an issue with anything—as she’d had with the sweater sign—she had an easygoing way of letting Lydia know what she needed to do or change.
“Are you sure you’re not being overly sensitive?”
It was a fair question, and something Lydia had wondered as well. She sighed as she pondered the idea again. “Well . . . nee. Nee, I really don’t think so. I’ve got a feeling inside me that she’s dealing with something upsetting. And it’s not just with me she seems distant and preoccupied. It’s with the customers too. Oh!” She remembered the other peculiarity she’d noticed. “She keeps getting out Post-it notes to write things down, then after she does, she crumples them all up and sticks them in her pocket.”
Lydia had been wishing, of course, that Jessica would toss a few of those yellow squares into the wastebasket so she could retrieve one and see what was written on it. But so far, Jessica had kept her scribblings to herself.
“Do you think she might be having a problem with Derek? Maybe she was—I don’t know—writing out what she wanted to say to him?” Liz sounded as if she was grasping at straws.
“Nee,” Lydia replied readily. “I don’t think it has anything to do with Derek. When he stops by the shop I can see how she tries to act as normal as normal can be. But then when he leaves, it’s like she lets down again and gets more withdrawn.”
“Hmm . . .” was all Liz had to say.
“Jah. That’s what I’ve been thinking to myself too—hmm.” She paused as a slight wind rattled the tiny window of the shanty. “The truth is, Liz, I didna want to ask her about anything by myself. I sure don’t want her to think I’m being nosy about her or her business. But I am worried about her, and I was thinking that, well, maybe—”
“We could talk to her together?”
Liz’s response brought on such a surge of relief that Lydia immediately felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. “Jah. Jah. That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. Since we’re supposed to get together for a knitting session later today, I thought it would be the perfect time,” she said, hoping Jessica didn’t back out of their plans. “That’s why I called you.”
“That’s a great idea, Lydia. When we meet, we’ll have plenty of time to get a feel for things with her and plenty of time to talk. I’m glad you gave me a heads-up.”
“Hopefully we can find out something and be of help.”
“Absolutely,” Liz said, and Lydia could practically feel her friend nodding affirmatively over the phone. “So I’ll see you later at the shop.”
“Jah, you have a good day, Liz.”
“And you get back inside your house. I can hear your teeth chattering all the way over the phone.”
“I will for sure.” Lydia smiled. She definitely needed to finish getting ready for work. Her ride would be at her house any minute.
“And, Lydia?” Liz said before Lydia could say good-bye.
“Jah?”
“You’re not being nosy at all. You’re being concerned and a good friend.”
“Danke, Liz.” She instantly warmed. “So are you.”
Even though Lydia had felt relieved after sharing her concerns with Liz earlier in the morning, she’d struggled all day being around Jessica at the shop. Trying to act normal when Jessica wasn’t acting that way at all, and when Lydia knew that she and Liz were going to approach Jessica, made for an uncomfortable day on the job.
She thought she’d feel better when Liz arrived at the Cottage. Yet as she sat alongside Liz at the worktable, knitting and chatting—and plotting some too—while they waited for Jessica to get Cole settled with Marisa, her stomach was still churning in anticipation.
She didn’t know whether to be glad or even more anxious when Jessica finally made her way down the stairs with her knitting bag.
“Are you two talking about Mrs. Grisham’s accident?”
“Virginia had an accident?” Liz’s needles came to a halt. Lydia looked up in surprise as well.
“That’s what Marisa was just telling me,” Jessica confirmed with a nod. “She overheard some ladies at Hair and Now talking about it. Apparently Mrs. Grisham fell down a flight of steps at her house and—”
“She fell—or someone pushed her?” Liz interrupted, then quickly put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, did I just say that? I’m sorry. That’s terrible of me.”
Lydia pretended she hadn’t heard Liz’s comment. “Is she all right?” she asked Jessica.
“Thankfully she didn’t hit her head.” Jessica laid her tote on the table. “But it sounds like she broke her left wrist and sprained her right one.”
“Oh, that’s not gut at all,” Lydia replied.
“I guess she won’t be doing any knitting for a while,” Liz added.
Jessica’s brow creased. “No, I suppose not.”
Lydia thought after sharing the news, Jessica would settle into a chair and get knitting on her scarf, but instead she remained standing. “I feel like we should make a Secret Stitches run,” she said, placing her hands on her hips.
“For Virginia Grisham?” Liz looked shocked. “Really, Jessica? After what she pulled on you?”
“Liz, I’m the one who initially made the mistake with her,” Jessica easily admitted, to which Liz shook her finger.
“And the woman could’ve been more forgiving about it.”
“Well, but . . .” Jessica stammered. “I don’t need any more bad karma.”
“More bad karma? What do you mean? Is something wrong?” Liz spoke up and Lydia’s heart beat faster, waiting for Jessica’s reply.
Jessica gave a quick shake of her head, her hair swinging back and forth. “Did I say more? I didn’t mean to say more. I’m just thinking Mrs. Grisham’s got to feel lost not being able to knit and—”
“Yeah, not being able to knit and manipulate other people’s lives,” Liz quipped.
“Look, Liz, I know you’re just being protective on my behalf, and it’s really sweet of you, but—”
“And on your aunt’s behalf too.” Liz arched a defiant brow. “Rose always gave Virginia great discounts on everything in the shop.”
“Because she was a loyal customer,” Jessica countered.
“But I guess her loyalty only goes so far, huh?”
Feeling like she was caught between the forces of two opposing winds, Lydia had kept silent while her friends bantered, but now she spoke up. “Actually, I was hoping we could get some knitting done and catch up with each other tonight.”
Although she felt mighty bad about Mrs. Grisham’s accident, she was far more concerned about Jessica at the moment. She didn’t want another day to go by without having the chance to speak to her—with Liz by her side, of course. Liz, who with a sideways glance let Lydia know she hadn’t forgotten the pact they’d made earlier in the day.
“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Liz chimed in.
“But, Liz—” Jessica held up her hands—“you’re the one who got me started on the secret missions. You’ve got me hooked and now you’re bailing? Plus, call me crazy, but I do feel bad for the woman.”
“But we don’t even have anything to take to her house,” Liz contended. Yet even as Liz said the words, Lydia could hear how her tone was already beginning to soften. How she was beginning to wane, not protesting as staunchly as she had before.
“Actually, I remember seeing a really pretty greenish-blue prayer shawl in Aunt Rose’s treasure chest,” Jessica said, and Lydia knew just the one she was speaking of. “I thought we could bring that. Unless—well, if neither of you truly want to go, I can run to her house by myself.” Jessica glanced between the two of them. “She doesn’t live far from here.”
Watching Jessica stand there
, tapping her foot, Lydia knew there was no way her friend was going to settle in and knit. It was almost as if Jessica knew that Lydia and Liz had an intervention in store for her, and she wasn’t about to sit down for it.
Which made Lydia give in before Liz did.
“Nee, Jessica. There’s no way you’re going on your own. I made a pair of slippers the other day and haven’t put them out on display yet. They come up over the ankles and have decorative buttons on them. They’re also a nice blue and very cute. We can add those to the package,” she said as she turned to Liz, giving her an apologetic shrug. So much for their plan, she wanted to say.
Liz conceded with a shrug of her own. “Hmm. Well, I guess Virginia Grisham is in luck then, ladies. I just happen to have a box of Godiva chocolates in my car,” she said with a tight-lipped smile. “I bought them for a coworker’s birthday tomorrow, but whatever. I can always pick up another box.”
Fifteen minutes later, after putting away their knitting and gathering up their gifts of hope, the three of them were in Jessica’s car, headed for Virginia Grisham’s house. Lydia had scooted into the backseat as usual, letting Liz sit in the front in case she needed to help Jessica navigate. But as they headed out on Route 39, Lydia noticed Jessica seemed comfortable with where she was going. However, she didn’t seem all that relaxed about the rain, which all at once had begun to turn to slush and ice.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.” Jessica sighed, and Lydia’s heart went out to her. Here she was trying to do something nice in her time of stress, and the weather surely wasn’t cooperating.
“Do we have much farther to go?” she asked.
“Not at this point,” Liz spoke up.
Jessica glanced at her copilot. “But we still have to get back home,” she said, sounding anxious. “I hope the weather doesn’t get much worse.”
Against the silence in the car, the flecks of ice seemed almost deafening as they pummeled the windshield, making Lydia feel as uneasy as Jessica had sounded. She was wishing she could think of something funny or heartening to say to put them all at ease when their talkative friend came through.
The Sisters of Sugarcreek Page 22
