Malcolm outlined Mr. Martin’s plan for his father, who nodded. “A sensible strategy. My wife could use a strong girl to help around the house if Lena needs a job. I’m sure Sally’s boardinghouse will make room for the girl in this situation.”
“That’s what I figure.” Mr. Martin shielded the sunset’s rays with his hat. “I hope I don’t lose it all.”
Malcolm patted the kid draped across his horse; the bleating nanny goat trailed behind. “You got a good start to rebuild, and your land’s still here.”
Mr. Martin stared after Josiah. “Maybe.”
Pa said to make Lena sew, to take her mind off what happened, and that’s exactly what Sally did when they returned to Fairhope. Welcomed as a refugee by Sally’s landlord, Lena was embraced by Fairhope residents, and several brought her clothing and other necessary items. On Tuesday morning at the dressmaker’s shop, Sally provided Lena a piece of fresh linen and her box of threads while she got her day’s work organized.
The two sat in front of the large window that looked across the dirt street at MacDougall’s Mercantile. Sunlight shone in, making the delicate stitching on Mrs. Campbell’s new dress easier to see. While Sally hemmed, she tried to find a way to talk to Lena about what had happened. Last night the girl had cried herself to sleep, even though she was thrilled to be in town. While Sterling had a schoolhouse, a blacksmith’s shop, and a cramped general store, Fairhope boasted three whole blocks of businesses.
The sweet scent of honeysuckle wafted through the open window. “What was it like?” Sally asked.
Lena shrugged. “The sky looked scary. The wind blew hard. Pa figured we were in for a severe storm, so we took shelter.” A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “You should have seen the chickens trying to stand upright. They kept blowing away, so we put them in the hen house.”
“Good thinking; it made them easier to find,” Sally said. Malcolm had discovered the battered chicken coop a half mile away from the farm; the disgruntled chickens squawking and clucking, but alive.
“My sunbonnet kept trying to blow away, but I tied it tight. It’s so clever, the way you shape the brim with reed. You should make more and tell ladies they’re twister proof!”
Sally watched her sister playing with the gray silk thread she’d found in the thread box. Lena whipped her hand in a circular fashion, trying to produce a triangular shape. She frowned, shook her head and picked it apart, only to start over.
“What are you doing?” Sally asked.
“Trying to picture what it looked like. Don’t funnel clouds start small at the bottom, twisting and turning into a triangular shape?”
“Are you embroidering a tornado?” Sally reached for the linen cloth.
Lena had captured the swirling motion of a funnel cloud with her deft stitches. Sally turned the cloth, marveling at how the threads caught the shimmering light from the window. “You should embroider one of these on your sunbonnet to remember how it stayed put.”
Lena picked up her bonnet. “Where should I embroider it?”
This was Sally’s specialty: hats. Where would Lena’s clever thread picture look best? On the cloth-covered brim, or perhaps on the side where the tie strings attached to the body of the bonnet?
The bell above the door jingled, and Kate entered. She carried soft gauze and wore a shy smile. “Can I hire you to run your machine and hem these?”
Sally raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
Kate giggled. “You’re among the first to know. We’ll use them as diapers come winter.”
The girls squealed together and chattered about the baby to come. After a glance at the clock, Sally set them aside. “I’d be pleased to. The work will be my gift to you.”
“Will Mrs. Sinclair allow it?” Kate whispered.
“I’m welcome to use the machine on my own time. Yes.”
Lena showed Kate her thread funnel cloud and asked where she thought it belonged on the bonnet.
“What a charming idea. I’d embroider it above the left tie ribbon. It will hide the back of your stitching better there.”
Sally turned over the embroidered linen and handed it to Kate. Lena’s stitching was so fine, she didn’t need to hide the backside.
“It’s charming in either spot. I must get back to the mercantile. Thanks!”
They watched her cross the street and pause to talk with a tall man in a pristine jacket.
“Josiah’s sure a handsome dandy,” Lena said.
He looked in their direction and raised his hand in greeting. Lena waved. Sally felt her face redden and picked up her needle. “Back to work.”
They sewed in silence for twenty minutes before Lena held up her olive sunbonnet. “Done.”
The clean silver-gray embroidery gleamed against the tired dusty bonnet. Sally bit her lip, trying to figure out why the little funnel shape dressed it up so much.
“This is to show I survived,” Lena announced.
The door opened, and Josiah entered. “Welcome to Fairhope, Miss Lena. I extend my condolences on the difficult occasion of your relocation.”
Lena ducked her head.
“I trust your father is managing?”
“Yes,” Lena murmured.
“Malcolm and Ewan are helping the folks in Sterling. There’s a lot of work to do to find their possessions, much less rebuild.” Sally looked at the sky out the window. “They hope to bring in what remains of the harvest, too, before another bad storm.”
Josiah’s brows contracted. “Does your Pa think he’ll have a crop to sell this year?”
Sally darted a look at her sister. “He hopes he’s got enough food to last until spring planting. The farmers who lost their fields are in a bad way.”
“One man’s loss is another’s opportunity. I hope he fares well. I must return to work. Good day.” Josiah tipped his hat and exited. They watched him step carefully down the boardwalk to the bank on the corner.
Lena stared after him. “He doesn’t look like he’s ever walked behind a plow.”
“No. But then, he’s never needed to.” Sally poked her needle through the cloth and pricked her finger. She stuck it in her mouth.
Financial security was the reward for hard work and often the result of creative activity. Josiah had told her so at the dance, and she meant to prove it in her own life. Sally had plans, and they involved owning a dress shop of her own.
She looked at her sister’s newly embroidered bonnet and wondered if it might hold a key to her future.
Maybe.
Chapter 4
Malcolm filled Bessie and Daisy’s trough with oats and curried the dust out of their coats as they ate. His muscled ached, and he felt dog tired—Sport already had curled up in a ball near the stall door—but his horses were the key to his livelihood as a teamster for the family mercantile, and they needed care first.
Daisy huffed, and he smiled at her pleasure. The oats even smelled good to him.
The last three days had been exhausting as he’d toiled with Reverend Cummings and others to aid the Sterling farmers. The damage would set back many, including Mr. Martin, by years. He didn’t know how they would survive the winter.
Malcolm tightened his jaw. Josiah had been out talking to the farmers, discussing their assets and liabilities. He cringed whenever he saw the polished banker arrive on the scene and while Reverend Cummings had explained the man meant well, Malcolm wasn’t so sure.
He was a businessman himself; he understood about profit and loss, but in the midst of catastrophe? Jesus told people to “weep with those who weep.” Did they have to lose so much to a tornado and then forfeit whatever they had left to the bank?
Folks needed time to mourn. Later, they could calculate and make the best decision for their families.
Malcolm brushed harder.
He stepped out of the stall as the sun dipped toward the horizon and headed toward Mrs. Sinclair’s shop, hoping Sally would be finishing up. Her father had sent him with an assignment.
Sally met him on the boardwalk out front. “Any news? How is Pa?”
“Working hard. He wanted me to give you this.” Malcolm handed her a small blue and white cameo.
Her pretty red lips opened in a gasp of joy. “It’s not lost! My mother’s most precious possession.” She showed it to Lena, who clapped her hands.
“When are you going back? Can you take me with you?” Sally asked.
Malcolm hesitated. “I think your pa wants you to stay in town. It’s tough living out there without shelter. Once we get all the boards separated out, he’ll build a lean-to with what he’s got, but it’s not a place for womenfolk right now.”
“Don’t be silly. We lived in a lean-to when we first proved up the land. I should be helping him. I could cook, if nothing else.”
Malcolm lowered his voice. “You need to stay on your job so you’ll have income. He’s worried about eating this winter.”
Sally went still and closed her eyes. Her lips trembled, and Malcolm ached to put his arms around her. But he watched and waited while she processed his words.
“We’ll make more sunbonnets,” Lena declared. “We can earn money to help Pa that way. See what we’ve got.”
She handed him a green and white checked sunbonnet, cleverly made with a reed frame to keep the sun out of women’s eyes. Malcolm had admired the style before—both his mother and sister had bonnets made like this and he’d once cut the thin reed for Sally. Based on his family’s experience making reed flutes, he’d shown her how to keep the reed flexible by soaking it in water until she could form it into any shape she wanted.
That had been a good day in the spring sunshine, with the scent of early wildflowers and the shrill calls of fledglings learning to fly. With the dust caked to his clothes and hot skin, Malcolm had a sudden yearning for the cleansing creek waters.
He took a deep breath and attended to the cap in his hand. “What’s this?” He traced a triangular shape on the brim, realized how filthy his hands were, and stopped.
“Lena thought it would be memorable to mark the sunbonnet even a tornado couldn’t blow off her head. Go ahead and inspect it,” she smiled. “It washes.”
He turned the creation over, and even his uninformed eye recognized skilled embroidery. “It looks nearly the same on top as on the bottom.”
Sally nodded. “My sister is talented.”
“You both are. This is real nice. A badge of honor the sunbonnet survived the storm.”
“We made two more last night. Perhaps we should give them to women in Sterling whose bonnets did blow away.” Sally’s shoulders drooped. “How bad is it? I feel so guilty living comfortable in town.”
“It’s no worse than pioneers deal with everywhere,” Malcolm said. “It gives your pa peace of mind knowing you’re both safe here.”
“I get off on Saturday; will you take me out?” Sally touched his arm, and Malcolm struggled not to react.
“I’ll let you know. I scarce know my own business these days.”
“Of course.” Sally’s eyes fell. “I shouldn’t presume. We’ll see you at the church meeting tonight.”
Malcolm watched them walk to their boardinghouse. What meeting?
His mother had filled the hip tub with warm water by the time he entered the house. “Dinner will be in half an hour. I roasted a chicken.”
Malcolm could hardly wait.
Scrubbed for the first time in days, Malcolm sat at the loaded table and stared at the potatoes, greens, and applesauce from last fall. His stomach turned. The good folks of Sterling weren’t eating so well and probably wouldn’t for months.
He pushed the food around his plate and told his parents what he and Ewan had seen and done.
“Reverend Cummings called a meeting tonight at the church to discuss what more Fairhope can do,” his father said. “Are you going back to Sterling tomorrow?”
“Any hauling work needed?”
“A small load when you can get to it out at Brush Creek. Matthew Boden said you should concentrate on those who need help first, but he’d like the goods by the end of the week.”
“I’ll tell you after the meeting.”
Most of the church members were in attendance when they entered the plain wooden building. Kate entertained them before the meeting began by playing her bagpipes—a sound growing on Malcolm, though he knew Ewan still cringed when she played out of tune. Of course, playing out of tune was practically a given with the instrument, but Ewan bore it all cheerfully.
Must be the power of love, Malcolm thought. His eyes drifted across the aisle to where Sally and her sister sat with Josiah and Mr. Finch.
After an opening prayer, Reverend Cummings got straight to the point. “Our brothers and sisters in Sterling are in great need. Several men worked hard this week to help them sort through the ruins. Next week we’ll need men to help bring in the harvest. But long term, this winter in particular, will be tough. What can we do?”
Reverend Cummings liked to challenge them, Malcolm mused. He presented a spiritual problem and waited to see how his congregation responded.
“I’ve been listening to my husband’s and brother’s stories,” Kate said. “We need to raise money to feed them through the winter and buy more seed for next spring. How about a dance? I’m sure Ewan would play and my bagpipes, of course, are always at your disposal.”
A good natured groan from Kate’s neighbor and a smattering of laughter ran through the congregation. Reverend Cummings looked about the church. “Ewan? You game to play?”
Ewan stood and bowed. “I’m at my wife’s service.” He looked at her with loving eyes. “Always.”
“We could have a pie auction,” Kate continued. “All proceeds for the townsfolk of Sterling.”
Malcolm figured the congregation would like the idea; most of their social life involved eating.
“My sister can make more of these to sell.” Lena jumped to her feet and waved her embroidered sunbonnet. The sharp-eyed deacon’s wife behind her leaned in for a closer look.
“Very nice, Sally. I’ll take one.”
Sally’s mouth dropped open and she nodded. “I’d be honored.”
Josiah Finch examined the sunbonnet. “I believe this would be of interest to women in Clarkesville. I’ll take a sample to town on Tuesday. Perhaps folks from all around, including our county seat, would come for the dance.”
The crowd got to work forming committees. Malcolm watched Sally’s excited face and thought only one thing.
He wished it had been him, not Josiah, who had volunteered to take one of Sally’s sunbonnets to Clarkesville for sale—so the sparkle in her eyes would be aimed at him.
Sally and Lena worked every spare minute to create new sunbonnets. Sewing late into the evenings after work, they devised a system: both cut the fabric from a pattern Sally devised, Sally ran the machine while Lena embroidered. On nights Ewan stayed to help in Sterling, Kate joined them to hem and finish off.
Kate’s visits cheered Sally, especially hearing Lena’s laughter and enthusiasm when Kate played one of her reed flutes. During the day working alongside Sally, Lena hardly spoke a word. If Sally dropped the heavy sheers or a wagon rumbled past the window, the girl startled and her eyes grew round with fear.
Sally’s heart ached with tenderness for her baby sister reliving those awful moments in the dark cellar when the tornado tore apart the only home she knew.
Sally herself trembled if she thought about it too much.
Mrs. Sinclair provided shirts for Lena to hem and other odd jobs while Sally attended her sewing. Spare time previously used to fashion clever hats for the women of Fairhope, she now spent working on the more practical sunbonnets, but the women who stopped in all claimed they’d be purchasing a new one.
“So clever with the framing,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said one day. “I don’t know how you thought of it.”
She passed it to her bosom friend, Mrs. Downdall, who nodded. “Could you make me one in my favorite color: sky blue?”
“A nice color with the dark gray funnel cloud embroidery,” Sally said. “And it would look lovely with your features. Do you mind if I sew them after the dance?”
The women agreed and took their leave. They’d purchased a copy of The Ladies Home Journal and wanted to read the story together. Sally watched them stroll away arm in arm. She loved Fairhope’s friendliness.
Malcolm entered the shop, his large presence filling the room with the smell of horses and sweat. “I’m headed out to see your Pa tomorrow. Do you have anything for him?”
“I’ll gather a few things together. When can I go with you?”
He turned his hat in his hands. “I’ll ask him. Anything you need?”
She dropped her eyes to the bucket at her feet. “I’m almost out of the reeds I use on the sunbonnet brim. Perhaps if I could go with you on Saturday, we could cut more reeds at Pa’s creek?”
His nervous face lighted into a broad grin. “I’d like to take you. But what about Lena?”
Sally bit her lip. “Do you want to come, Lena?”
The girl shook. “Yes. But … but not yet.” She rubbed her hand across her face and turned away.
“Kate would probably welcome a visit from you, Lena. Why don’t we ask her?”
Sally closed her eyes in relief. She knew Malcolm would fix everything.
The two young women returned to the boardinghouse after work. They ate a small meal and gathered foodstuffs and a fresh blanket for Malcolm to take with him the next morning. Afterward, they sat on the front porch drinking lemonade and stitching.
Josiah stopped at the gate and tipped his hat. Sally invited him to join them.
“I’ll get another glass.” Lena hastened into the house.
Josiah nestled into her vacated chair, and they sat together in companionable silence. From the pond behind the house, peepers tuned up for a night of song. A lark trilled, and in the distance a dog barked. The neighbor’s chickens settled into their coop, and on the table in the window behind Sally, her landlady Mrs. Campbell set a kerosene lamp for light.
“How goes the sewing?” Josiah asked.
The 12 Brides of Summer Novella Collection 1 Page 8
