The Sisters of Sugarcreek

by Cathy Liggett

  “I have some good news for you all,” Liz announced. “I was going to tell you both during our knitting session tonight.”

  “I could use some good news about now,” Jessica muttered.

  “Me too,” Lydia agreed.

  “Well, then, guess who Daniel and I saw when we were out driving through the park the other day?” Liz chirped.

  “Who?” both Lydia and Jessica asked together.

  “Ryan Fletcher with his dad, sitting on a park bench.”

  “Jah?” Lydia smiled, thinking Liz had picked the perfect moment to share with them.

  “So he’s home from overseas?” Jessica asked. “Did he look all right?”

  “He had a bandage wrapped around his head, but it looked like he and Norm were enjoying the time together. I noticed they were both smiling over something.”

  “Oh, that’s great to hear. It really is.”

  Lydia noticed a happy lilt in Jessica’s voice that had been missing for days.

  “And, girls, just to let you know,” Liz further reported, “Ryan was wearing the scarf we left on Norm’s doorstep.”

  “Aww . . .” Even with her coat on, Lydia could feel goose bumps popping up on her arms. “That was quite an adventurous night for me.” She laughed.

  “For all of us.” Jessica gave a quick glance into the rearview mirror and grinned at her. “I thought for sure we were going to get caught that night with all of those lights bursting on every few seconds and—” Suddenly she straightened in the driver’s seat. “Wait! Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Liz asked.

  “Like a smack or a thump or a—”

  Jessica didn’t have to describe the noise any further. The clunky sound reverberated through the car as the vehicle began to shake and wobble, leaving their driver with no choice but to pull over to the side of the road.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jessica sighed after bringing the SUV to a complete stop. “A flat tire? Really? Tonight of all nights?”

  “I hate to tell you, but that’s what it sounds like,” Liz confirmed.

  “Does it feel that way too?” Lydia asked.

  “I’m afraid so. But just to be sure . . .” Jessica unsnapped her seat belt, got a flashlight out of the glove box, and proceeded to get out of the car to check the tires.

  Within a minute, she was back in the car, giving them her report. “It’s the left rear tire,” she said as she brushed ice crystals from her hair.

  “I’m sorry to say, honey, I haven’t changed a tire in eons,” Liz said.

  “And I’ve never changed one,” Lydia admitted. “But I could try.”

  “No—there’s no way we’re changing a tire in this weather and in the dark, too.” Jessica shook her head. “I’m calling AAA.”

  With that said, Lydia and Liz sat quietly while Jessica made the call for help. As the ice continued to pelt the windshield, Lydia hoped they wouldn’t be stuck where they were once the tire was fixed.

  “Obviously they have a lot of people needing roadside assistance tonight,” Jessica told them once she hung up and shifted around in her seat to face the two of them. “We could be sitting here for quite some time. I certainly hadn’t intended to spend this much on babysitting tonight.” She sighed. “I need to start cutting back.”

  “Well, at least we’re dry,” Liz offered.

  “And warm,” Lydia added in.

  Despite their positivity, Jessica let out a disgusted grunt. “I’m sorry I even suggested this outing, ladies.”

  “Jessica, it’s not a big deal.” Liz reached over and patted their friend’s shoulder. “We’ll get the tire fixed, get to the Grishams’, and be home in no time.”

  “Yeah, hours from now,” Jessica replied glumly. “I don’t even know if I have a decent spare. Oh, I hope I don’t have to buy any new tires.” She groaned. “Just one more thing I don’t need right now.”

  “One more thing?” Liz asked. “Have there, uh, been other things lately?”

  Noticing how Liz had taken Jessica’s comment as an opportunity to get Jessica to open up, as they’d hoped to do earlier in their knitting session, Lydia followed her lead. “Jah, because we’re really good people to share things with,” she said and even boldly clicked on the overhead dome light—which unfortunately caused all of them to squint and blink until their eyes adjusted. “If you need to talk, that is,” she added.

  “And there are lots of times we need to talk things out,” Liz joined in.

  “Jah, definitely, and I have to say this could be a mighty good time since it seems like something has been going on with you lately, Jessica. Something you might want to share,” Lydia prompted. “Of course, you can tell us it’s none of our business, but—”

  “You are our business, Jess,” Liz said sweetly but firmly.

  “Jah, you are.” Lydia nodded.

  The entire time she and Liz had been speaking, their friend’s mouth had been gaping open as if she was speechless. But now she pursed her lips together and waved a finger between Lydia’s spot in the back of the car and Liz’s seat in the front. “Have you two possibly been practicing this back-and-forth thing you have going on? Because it really sounds like you have.”

  “Oh . . .” Liz hemmed as she held up her thumb and forefinger, pinching them together. “Maybe just a little bit.”

  “Jah, when you were upstairs getting Cole settled in with Marisa,” Lydia confessed.

  “Hmm. I see.” Jessica bit her lip. “Well, I have to say . . .” A grin began to slowly show itself, lighting up her face. “I think this is the first time I’ve truly smiled in days. You’re both so sweet. But really, guys, though it’s nice of you to ask, I don’t want to talk about what’s going on. It’s something I need to work out for myself, and no one else can help,” she said, to which Liz instantly clucked.

  “You never know unless you open up and spill the beans.” Liz crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Jah, spilling beans can be a gut thing.”

  “And since we’re going to be sitting here for a while . . .”

  “A long while from the sounds of it,” Lydia added to Liz’s comment.

  “During which time you two are going to keep badgering me?” Jessica snickered.

  “Uh, yes. Something like that.” Liz gave her an assured smile.

  “Well, knowing how relentless the two of you are—” Jessica held up her hands—“I suppose I give. But I’m telling you, my situation is not anything you can help me with because the thing is I, uh, messed up. Big-time. I received a bill a few days ago. Well, it’s worse than a bill, actually. It’s a final notice on the property taxes for the Cottage and—”

  “Oh, thank You, Lord.” Lydia’s hand flew to her chest. “That’s such a relief!”

  “It is?” Jessica appeared understandably confused. “How can you say that?”

  “Because we thought you might’ve received bad news about your health. That you might be sick,” Lydia explained. “We were worried when you were acting so different.”

  “But it’s just a money problem?” Liz asked.

  “Just a money problem?” Jessica sounded slightly indignant.

  “Oh! I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Liz backpedaled. “Trust me, I’ve had some financial issues recently and they’ve been very worrisome and stressful. But maybe, well, let me think. Maybe I can figure out some way that I could lend you—”

  “No.” Before Liz could even finish, Jessica halted her suggestion with a wave of her hand. “Thank you, but no. I just need to come up with a few thousand dollars by the middle of next month to make things right, and I’m going to figure it out,” she said, sounding confident. At least until she added the last part of her thought. “I just don’t know how yet. So, anyway . . . if I’ve seemed like my mind has been on something else this week, it has. I still can’t believe how I messed up. How I was so unaware of all the costs involved with the shop.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself,”
Liz admonished. “You’re just starting out in the business, and it’s a huge undertaking. Something totally new to you. Why, I’ve been selling real estate for years and years and lately, I’m barely having any success with it at all—which has been completely puzzling to me,” she said, tugging at a spike of hair at the back of her head. “Not that this is about me, of course. It’s about the Cottage.”

  “Which is my responsibility,” Jessica replied firmly. “I own it and the problems that come with it.”

  “You’re mighty right,” Lydia told her. “You do own the Cottage, but it’s a very special place where I feel blessed to be spending my waking hours each day. It’s become like a second home to me. And if the shop is in trouble, I don’t want to stand by and do nothing. I want to help.”

  “She’s right, Jessica,” Liz joined in. “The Cottage is too special to us. You’re too special to us. No ifs, ands, or buts about it,” she said with a degree of finality. “You have to let us help you.”

  “I can’t tell you how much hearing that from both of you means to me. You really can’t know.” Jessica’s voice croaked. “But honestly, beyond being moral support for me, I don’t know what you can do.”

  As they all sat silently considering the situation, Jessica’s phone buzzed in her hand.

  “It’s AAA,” she said, glancing down at the screen. “They’ll be here in fifteen to twenty minutes.”

  “Yeah?” Liz shifted in her seat, sitting up straighter. “Well, good. I’d say that’s just long enough for us to come up with a plan for the Cottage.”

  Jessica tilted her head, appearing touched but doubtful. “Liz, really, like I said, I appreciate your concern—and yours, too, Lydia—but if I haven’t come up with a plan in the last few days, then I—”

  “I’m thinking I could teach some extra classes,” Lydia interrupted her, scooting forward till she was hugging the back of the front seats. “More classes would bring in more money.”

  “And when could you possibly do that, Lydia?” Jessica asked. “In your sleep? You already do so much at the shop.”

  “I don’t mind, Jessica. I’m sure I could find the time.”

  “It’s great of you to offer, Lydia, and I know our customers enjoy your classes, but the other part of the problem is I need the money more quickly than that.”

  “I know!” Liz snapped her fingers. “We could have a sale. It could be soon after Thanksgiving when people are buying things like crazy. It could be . . . a sidewalk sale.”

  “In December?” Jessica’s forehead crinkled.

  “It’s the perfect time to have one,” Liz said, her enthusiasm boundless as usual. “We have an endless stream of tourists visiting town then. Oh!” She raised a finger in the air. “And we could schedule the sale on a day when there’s a busload of women coming from a senior facility. You know the buses will be coming to Sugarcreek nonstop all during the weeks before Christmas.”

  Lydia thought Liz’s suggestion was far better than hers. A special sale could make extra money in a day—not weeks. But she was uncertain about the sale being held outside, which Jessica seemed to be having a problem with as well.

  “I don’t know, Liz. It’ll be cold and it could be icy like tonight,” Jessica wavered. “That may not be the best idea when it comes to the elderly ladies and their walkers.”

  “Could we have the sale indoors?” Lydia suggested. “And maybe call it . . . I don’t know . . .” She tried to think.

  “How about Santa’s Cottage Sale?” Jessica said, seeming to get into the spirit of things. “But then, what would we sell to make extra money? I mean, besides the regular things we sell,” she asked, which happened to be the same thing Lydia was wondering too.

  “Well, we could . . .” Liz paused, tapping her finger to her lips. “Sell things we’ve made,” she volunteered, which caused Jessica to snort.

  “Maybe things you and Lydia have made,” Jessica said. “Maybe even some of the hand-knit sweaters and vests Rose had tucked away in her cedar chests. But as far as anything I’ve made, I’m fairly certain there won’t be too many prospective buyers.”

  “That’s not so, Jessica,” Lydia spoke up. “What about your scarves?”

  “My lumpy, bumpy scarves? You’ve got to be kidding.” Jessica shook her head.

  “No, I’m not. With the pretty sparkly bows, they’re adorable.” Lydia turned to Liz. “What did you call them?”

  “Shabby chic, and I couldn’t agree more.” Liz clapped her hands. “And while you’re making more scarves, Jessica, now that my kitchen is back in order, I’ll start baking my famous red velvet cakes and freezing them. They look so very Christmassy, and I’ll have you know, the cake won a baking contest at church one holiday season. Oh, and that reminds me—Christmas cookies!” Liz’s eyes widened. “We can sell cakes and cookies, too, by the box or individual ones for a dollar apiece. I love making Christmas cookies.”

  “We can also sell quilts,” Lydia suggested.

  “Oh, that’s a great idea, Lydia.” Liz gave her a thumbs-up. “Quilts are huge moneymakers. Huge.”

  “Okay, you two were beginning to sell me on Aunt Rose’s sweaters and cakes and even scarves, I suppose, but quilts?” Jessica asked dubiously. “Now we’re also going to whip up a few quilts? I really don’t see that happening.”

  “Not us.” Lydia shook her head.

  “Then who?” Jessica frowned.

  “Don’t you worry about it,” she told her friend. “I know just the ‘whos’ who can do the job.” She smiled.

  “And if anyone knows how to advertise the sale online, you do, Jessica. Which means you’ve got to let us make a go of this,” Liz insisted.

  “We have to at least try.” Lydia nodded at Jessica, hoping against hope she’d say yes.

  “Well?” Liz cocked her head, waiting for Jessica’s final approval. “What do you think?”

  “Well, I . . . what I think is . . .” Jessica glanced at Liz, then at Lydia, then back to Liz and Lydia once more, while the two of them waited for her answer. “Honestly, I don’t know how to say this.”

  “Don’t say no to the sale, Jessica. Please,” Lydia implored her.

  “Oh, it’s not that. It’s just . . .” Jessica took a deep breath. “It all just hit me right now.”

  “What just hit you, honey?” Liz leaned closer. “The money? The situation?” she asked, her voice more subdued than usual.

  “No.” Jessica shook her head. “The two of you. Your kindness. And your caring. The way you love Aunt Rose’s Cottage like I do.” Her voice quaked with emotion. “For the longest while, I’ve been so caught up in myself and my hurt, hating that God kept taking things—the people I loved—away from me. I haven’t been praying to Him or talking to Him at all. I just haven’t felt like He was there. Or that He cared. But now . . .” Jessica looked down at her hands, then back up, and Lydia knew she was trying to get control of herself before speaking again. “Like I said, it just hit me that all the while I wasn’t thinking of Him, He was thinking of me. I know He was because He sent you—both of you—into my life. Giving me a new family, new people to care about, just when I needed them most.”

  As the tears trickled down Jessica’s cheeks, Lydia tried to control her own. Reaching out, she patted her friend’s shoulder, knowing that despite what any of them might think at times, Gott was always present, always at work in their lives. That was His promise. “You mean the same to us, Jessica,” she said. “Verra much you do.”

  Liz wiped at her eyes. “So, I’m guessing—” She paused to clear her throat. “I’m guessing that this, uh, means you’ll agree for us to do the sale with you?”

  Jessica chuckled faintly. “Oh, definitely. Yes. Now I see the light.”

  As she said the words, eerily, a soft light began to filter into the car. A light that grew brighter and whiter with each passing moment, until finally it filled the car from back to front.

  In sync with one another, they turned their heads to see exactly what L
ydia expected to see. The AAA truck had pulled up behind Jessica’s SUV, its headlights gleaming through the rear window.

  “Actually, I think we’ve all seen the light,” Liz quipped and Lydia couldn’t have agreed more as the three of them laughed through their tears.

  LYDIA WAS FEELING QUITE sheepish as she stood holding open her front door for Jonas. But she was also feeling very much appreciative as he carried yet another one of his chairs into her house and placed it on the periphery of her sitting room.

  “That’s the last of them, Lydia.” He stood in the center of the room, brushing his hands together. “I wish I had more chairs for you to borrow, but even if I did, I don’t know where you’d put them.”

  He was right, of course. He’d placed a few of his chairs in the extra bedroom, where her pedal sewing machine was set up. He’d added a couple to the chairs she already had in the kitchen. At that point, they’d decided to leave the rest of his wooden seats in the sitting room, so the ladies from church could rearrange them however worked out best for their quilting session.

  “Jah. It’s a bit of a tight fit in here, isn’t it?” she agreed, glancing around the room.

  Tight—and much too warm.

  She’d made a huge fire in the fireplace a half hour earlier, hoping to make her home as cozy and welcoming for her guests as possible. Jeb and Kit certainly seemed to be enjoying the heat, curled up together in front of the hearth. Yet she was fanning her face with her hand as she turned to her neighbor to thank him. Once again.

  “I cannot say it enough, Jonas. I’m mighty indebted to you,” she said sincerely. “Here I remembered to gather up all the material and threads from the Cottage for the quilts. And I remembered all the ingredients I needed for my potato soup and for the friendship bread I made. But then I forgot all about chairs.” She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I sure don’t know where I thought everyone was going to sit to quilt and eat.”

  Jonas’s eyes twinkled as he laughed, not seeming concerned by her oversight at all. “Jah, well, there you go. Sometimes we forget the big things when we’re focusing on all the little ones,” he said.