by Dawn Kinzer
Clara held up the pattern envelope. “And these?”
“They’re graded into sizes so a pattern can work for more than one body. Each woman is unique, which is wonderful, but it does make fitting clothes a challenge at times.” Hope slipped the envelope from Clara’s hand, then trailed her finger down the dress depicted on the front. “Then the patterns are printed on tissue paper. They’re cut, folded, and inserted into envelopes complete with instruction sheets, so anyone in America can have a dress made that’s also worn in Chicago, New York, or France. Once patterns are completed, garments are constructed, sketched with pen and ink, and engraved for colored fashion plates used in print.”
“And that’s what we see in The Delineator.” Clara chewed on her lower lip. “But, even though the company is usin’ European designs, they’ll still consider yours. You should be so proud, Hope.”
Oh, how she wanted to let those words reach deep inside. The rejection still smarted too much for that. “I am grateful there’s still a chance for me. I think it’s to my advantage that the Butterick family started out as simple tailors. They wanted fashion to be available for everyone. They also wanted to make dressmaking easier. So that’s why even people living in small farming communities like Riverton have access to their patterns.”
Hope unrolled the lavender material along the counter to keep things moving with her customer. “The company welcomes suggestions and ideas from the public. So, even though I’m currently living here, I have an avenue to submit my designs.” She read the pattern instructions before measuring and cutting the fabric, then fidgeted with the material. Should she bring up the subject she’d been wanting to discuss with Clara for several days? “I know this seems a bit presumptuous, but I was wondering if we might help each other.”
“How?” Clara seemed interested, which gave Hope courage.
“You’re good with a sewing machine and needle and thread, but I’m embarrassed to say I’m not.” She’d shown vulnerability and admitted her weakness, but what would Clara think of her now? “At least, I’m not as skilled as I want to be when it comes to making fine clothing.”
Clara’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you askin’ me to teach you?”
“Yes, but more than that. What would you think about us working together?”
Clara’s face lit up. “I could help put your designs together, and you could show me how to make things more fashionable.” A smile spread across her face—a possible hint she felt as inspired by the possibilities. “I do find it challenging to update one style to another. So many women ask for alterations on what they already own. You might also have a little more time to work on your sketches if you don’t have to put the garments together yourself. But are you sure I can do your designs justice?” A frown creased her brow and her enthusiasm faded. “I wouldn’t want to let you down.”
Let her down? Hope couldn’t be more grateful that Clara would entertain her idea. “I’ve been told you’re the best seamstress in the area, and I really do need your help. So, are you willing to try it and see what happens?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Wonderful.” Her lungs felt like they’d taken in fresh air. She’d acquired help, maybe even a partner. “Now, let’s find the perfect buttons for your daughter’s birthday dress.” Hope folded, then carried the cut material to another counter nearby where Annie was shelving three bolts of gingham on the wall. Hope pulled out several small drawers that held pearl-like buttons.
Annie finished and turned around. “Another busy Friday. Only a few more hours before closing.” Her face lit up with a grin. “Hi, Clara. Purchasing items for a new sewing project?”
Clara nodded. “A dress for Rose—for her birthday.”
“Oh, my...the lavender will look lovely.” Annie fingered the material. “You can trust me to keep it a secret.”
“These are perfect.” Clara held up a set of dainty buttons.
“You’re absolutely right.” Hope had spotted another set of buttons she was just about to recommend, but seeing the others next to the fabric, she had to admit that Clara had made a better choice.
Annie’s eyes shifted from the cloth to somewhere behind Clara, and she groaned. “Trouble brewing. Rebecca Hoyt and Mrs. Jorgenson are heading right for us.”
“I have delightful news!” Mrs. Jorgenson beamed. “I was just telling Rebecca about the library, and she wants to help.”
Annie’s mouth opened large enough a dragonfly could have swooped in. “I—I...” Her gaze moved from Mrs. Jorgenson to Rebecca, who stood prim and proper with hands folded in front of her.
“Trust me. You need what I can offer.” Rebecca stared at Annie as though defying her to disagree.
“Trust you?” Annie shook her head as though the idea of Rebecca getting involved with the library was unthinkable. “Thank you, but we don’t need your kind of help.”
“Annie, what’s gotten into you?” Mrs. Jorgenson’s eyes saddened. “We should be grateful for anyone who is willing to join this huge undertaking, but especially someone who may have a voice with the town council.”
“May I speak with you in private?” Annie gestured to the older woman to follow her, and the two of them stepped to the end of the counter and began whispering.
Clara fidgeted with her handbag. Rebecca stared at the floor. The tension hanging in the air was so thick, Hope feared choking on it.
Rebecca cleared her throat and smiled. “Clara, my mother means to tell you herself, but I’d also like to mention that she was delighted with the tea gown you delivered the other day.”
“Thank you.” Clara’s shoulders relaxed, and she stopped fumbling with her bag. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Yes, well, you know how difficult it is to please her with anything. But you’ve mastered the art.” Rebecca turned to Hope. “Clara’s expertise with needle and thread is exceptional. No other handiwork compares.”
Clara’s eyes shone. “Thank you, Rebecca.”
Hope should be tending to other customers wandering around the store, but she hadn’t finished Clara’s purchase. Hope prayed silently and tried to appear relaxed. This latest development could play out several ways, and she wanted to offer Annie support, if needed.
The whispering at the other end of the counter stopped, and the two women returned.
Annie faced Rebecca. “I’m willing to listen.” Not even a hint of a smile—still, she sounded earnest.
“Good.” Rebecca laid her handbag on the counter. “To begin, the town’s approval is imperative. The council’s next meeting is set for July fifth, which is just a little over two weeks away. So, you have that much time to come up with a detailed plan.” She moistened her lips. “I can help write and present the proposal. As a teacher in Riverton, I can offer insight as to the benefits of having a library accessible to adults and students. I’d have no trouble expounding on what this could do for our community. Once approved, I’m willing to do whatever you ask.”
“Hmmm...whatever I ask...” Annie drummed her fingertips on the counter. “It sounds like you’re as passionate about this project as we are,” she said with a hint of surprise in her voice.
“I know you have reason to distrust me.” Rebecca’s eyes focused on Annie. “I did things in the past that hurt your friends. But, please believe me. I would never do anything to jeopardize your plans. My students need this. The school’s books and resources are so limited our children can’t compete academically with those attending in larger towns. A library would open up other worlds to everyone in the community—worlds we don’t have access to in a place the size of Riverton.”
“All right.” Annie sighed. “I’ll gladly accept anything you can offer.”
“Thank you, Annie. You won’t regret it.”
“When can we start working on a proposal?”
Rebecca picked up her bag. “We have a lot of work and not much time. Why not get some preliminary ideas down this evening?”
“The sooner the better. If we do
n’t go to the meeting prepared, the council may decide to sell it to the other prospective buyer, and that would be heartbreaking.” Annie glanced at Hope, who nodded. “Mrs. Jorgenson, are you able to join us at our house after supper?”
A warm smile spread across the older woman’s face, and she winked at Annie. “I’ll bring dessert.”
Rebecca laid her hand on Mrs. Jorgenson’s arm. “And I’ll pick you up in my buggy around, say six thirty?”
“That would be lovely, dear.” Mrs. Jorgenson turned. “I’ll see you ladies this evening.” She and Rebecca left the store together.
“I still need to get a few other items before heading home myself.” Clara picked up the material and buttons. “I’ll be back in just a moment to pay for these.”
“No hurry, Clara, and if there’s anything else I can help you with, please don’t hesitate to ask.” Hope slipped the button drawers back into place.
“Thanks, Hope.” Clara marched down an aisle as though on a mission.
“So, cousin.” Hope leaned against the counter and blew out a gust of air. “How in the world did Mrs. Jorgenson ever convince you to let Rebecca Hoyt, the woman you’ve detested for the past several years, join your crusade?”
“Frightening, right?” Annie gave Hope a weak smile. “She reminded me of some things. The first being that Rebecca has been forgiven by those she offended, so I have no cause to hold those past offenses against her. And...”
“And?”
“God gave everyone certain gifts. It would be wrong for me to stand in the way of Rebecca offering hers.” Annie grinned. “Besides, she’s right. We can use all the help we can get.”
chapteR TEN
Here she stood in the Pedersons’ backyard, surrounded by people who had welcomed her with open arms and included her in their Fourth of July festivities, and her mother and father were doing all they could to alleviate hardships for people struggling thousands of mile away. As proud as Hope was of them, their sacrifices made her feel small and insignificant in comparison. All she could do was honor them the best she could by becoming the woman they believed her to be.
She set drinking glasses at the end of a long table behind the large farm house. Carefree children’s laughter carried toward her. Smiling, she took in all the activity and chatter around the yard. It would have been nice to have had a brother or sister.
Ellie and Thomas Pederson had invited Annie and Hope to join their family gathering, and warm-hearted Ellie made Hope feel right at home. Ellie was Reverend Caswell’s sister, so other guests included the reverend, Sarah, and their daughter Mary, as well as Sarah’s grandmother, Abigail Hansen. Hope had learned that Mrs. Hansen, who was now resting in a chair beneath a shade tree, could be a bit crotchety at times, but she also had a tender spot when it came to Sarah.
Ellie’s two sons, John and Isaac, played with a ball and bat, while her daughter, Grace, pushed Mary on a swing hung from a large oak tree.
“I hope the boys show up soon.” Ellie placed a large pitcher of lemonade on the table next to the glasses, then covered the top with a small towel to keep the flies away. “It’s such a warm day, I don’t want to bring out the milk or potato salad until they’re here.”
“Boys?” As far as Hope knew, Ellie’s family was all present.
“Ben and Jake Greene.”
Hope’s heart thumped double-time. Ben would be spending the day here? She’d avoided him since the fighting incident and had barely spoken to him even at church services except for forced, polite conversation. She still wondered what Jake meant when he alluded to Ben having reasons for not stepping in to stop the beating. How could anyone stand by while one person hurt another?
Ellie shooed a honey bee away from the table. “I suppose I shouldn’t call them boys, but I’ve grown to think of them almost as younger brothers. They’ve been a great help to Thomas, and the children adore them.” She pointed to the left. “Their farm is just through the woods on the other side of the cornfield over there.”
Hope’s shirtwaist felt damp beneath her arms, and she wiped moisture from her brow. The noonday sun was beating down, but it wasn’t so hot beneath the maple tree’s canopy that she should be melting like a burning candle. Was this God’s providence? She and Ben thrown together at a small, friendly gathering when she still hadn’t made peace with him?
Her mother’s letter explaining her efforts to share God’s love with the people in Panama had jolted Hope into realizing that whether she agreed with Ben’s actions or not, being rude or withholding kindness didn’t make her more noble than him—maybe less.
“Just in time!” Annie placed a large roaster of steaming baked beans on the table and ran to greet the wagon pulling up to the side of the barn.
Hope smoothed her skirt and loose strands of hair, then put a genuine—and slightly nervous—smile on her face. She looked up and moved forward to greet the newcomers, and her smile faltered. Only one Greene brother had arrived. Jake.
“Where’s Ben?” Ellie stood alongside Annie as Jake disembarked from the wagon. “Is he following behind?”
Jake tied the horse to a post, then reached into the wagon and pulled out a basket filled with ripe, lush strawberries. “He, uh, sends his regrets.”
Ellie sighed. “Oh, no. I hope he’s not ill.”
“Nothing to worry about.” He cast a glance in Hope’s direction, but it lingered only a second before he gave Ellie a grin. “Where are those baked beans you promised? I could smell them cooking all the way over at our farm. I’m not fooling, either.”
“Sure you could.” Annie’s eyes shone as she laughed along with him. Could it be more obvious how she felt about Jake? “Right this way, and bring the berries with you.”
“The children will miss having Ben here. We all will,” Ellie said as she followed them back to the tables now laden with food.
Yes, we all will. That realization struck a chord in her heart. Hope felt a surprising loss at his absence as she helped bring the last few dishes from the kitchen.
What had she glimpsed in Jake’s eyes? A hint that Ben’s refusal had something to do with her? Had she offended him so much by her frustration over his lack of defending a man that he would actually stay away from the celebration? He deserved to be there more than she did. Maybe her accusations had bothered him more than she thought.
Hope should be relieved Ben wasn’t coming today. It wasn’t in her to pretend that everything was fine when, in reality, tension between them had remained as thick as paint exposed to the sun’s heat. Left too long, it could possibly harden.
It wasn’t in her to live with the ache of unfinished business. Words spoken by her mother echoed in Hope’s mind, reminding her that she couldn’t just look at the fruit a person produced in his life—she also needed to dig down to the roots to truly understand someone.
She jolted to a stop between the kitchen and a picnic table, and a platter of golden ears of corn almost slipped from her hands. She wanted to know Ben. Not just the man he willingly exposed, but also the deeper part of him that might make it possible to become real friends. Somehow she had to make things right between them.
The platter made it safely to the table, much to Hope’s relief. Before leaving for Panama, her father had promised that God would open doors for her. But she also held some responsibility to do her part. Lord, if you provide an opportunity to make peace with Ben, I’ll try to be brave enough to take it.
“Gather around everyone.” Reverend Caswell grabbed Sarah’s hand. The handsome pastor and his beautiful wife, both with dark hair and deep blue eyes, made a striking couple.
“Hush, children!” Sarah’s grandmother, Mrs. Hansen, tapped her cane on the ground. “Listen to the reverend.”
The boys and girls giggled, then quieted, as though they knew the elderly woman meant business, but was still soft under the crusty exterior.
“Before we fill our bellies with the wonderful food prepared for us, let’s pray.” Reverend Caswell bowed his h
ead, and everyone followed suit. “Thank you, Lord, for the country we live in and the blessings we receive here. Help us to never take for granted the freedom we have or the sacrifices it has taken to attain and keep that freedom. Thank you for this food that we’re about to enjoy. We also ask, Lord, that you bless and protect Hope’s parents with comfort, friendship, good health, and your divine guidance. Amen.”
“Amen!” they all added in unison.
Hope glanced at each individual, wishing she could put into words how much it meant to her—to hear a prayer for her parents while being surrounded by people who had become like family.
The adults found places at one table, while the children sat together at another. Once the youngsters’ plates had been filled, dishes were passed around to the others.
“Hope, how do you spend the Fourth of July in New York?” Thomas, who reminded her of a Norwegian Viking, slathered butter onto a biscuit. “Must be pretty exciting in a big city.”
All eyes focused on her, displaying an eagerness to hear the answer. Hope dabbed her mouth with a napkin and took a drink of lemonade. “Well, like here, it’s hot in the summer. So, my parents and I have always spent the holiday at Coney Island. We picnic at the beach.”
Jake stopped chomping on a chicken wing. “Do any swimming in the ocean?”
“Sometimes.” She smiled. “My favorite thing is to spend time in the amusement parks. Luna Park is filled with thousands of outside electric lamps. It’s beautiful when they’re all lit up. One of the popular rides in that park is called ‘Trip to the Moon.’ Steeplechase Park has wonderful roller coasters and a Ferris wheel. I also love the scale models of the Eiffel Tower and the Palace of Westminster’s clock tower.”
“We must go back someday so you can show me everything.” Annie popped a strawberry into her mouth.
“Of course.” Hope returned her cousin’s smile. It would be great fun to show Annie the sights, but when would it be possible to return to New York? For now, she needed to make sure enough time and distance kept her safe from Henry. “Thomas, would you please pass the biscuits and blackberry jam?” That little diversion did the trick, and conversation went in other directions.
