A Stitch in Time

by Amelia C. Adams

  He stepped up behind her and rested his hands on her forearms. “But doesn’t it also feel enlivening and liberating?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure that I’ve ever let myself feel like that.” It was painful to say the words aloud, but she knew she must. She had to face them, and she had to stop living in such an isolated way. Shutting herself off from pain was also shutting herself off from joy, and she wanted joy so very desperately.

  Toby slowly turned her around, his hands still on her arms, and then brought her in close. She didn’t realize he was going to kiss her until he was doing it, and her first instinct was to push him away. Her very next instinct, though, was to wrap her arms around his waist. This was what she really wanted—to hold him, to be held, to belong. To be his.

  The kiss was over far too soon. He stepped back and looked into her eyes. “If you really want to stay angry at me, I can’t make you change your mind,” he said. “But I think we have too much to lose and so much to gain. I can’t imagine myself with anyone but you, Miriam. You’ve been everything to me since we were children. That’s not going to change.”

  “I don’t want to be angry anymore.” Her voice was so low, it was almost a whisper. “But I don’t know what to replace it with.”

  “Love,” he replied. “Replace it with love.”

  “Will . . . will you show me how?”

  “Absolutely.” He took both her hands in his. “Let’s start by trusting each other enough to talk to each other, all right? About everything, but especially the things that are bothering us.”

  She smiled, feeling a bit tremulous. “I should have asked you outright—I was just so scared to hear your answer.”

  “You would rather believe I’d rejected you than to ask if I’d rejected you?”

  She flinched. “It sounds so . . . ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

  He rubbed the backs of her knuckles with his thumb. “It sounds like the normal reaction of a person who’s been hurt and doesn’t want to be hurt anymore.” He paused. “Your parents, if I’m not mistaken.”

  She nodded. “I loved them, and they left . . .”

  “Not by choice. No one would ever choose to leave you. I only stayed away because it’s what you wanted.”

  “So, why are you here now? I told you before that I didn’t want to see you.”

  He pursed his lips. “Well, you could say that I decided I’m just as stubborn as you are, and that maybe it was time I got my way for once.”

  “What? I don’t always get my way!”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that so?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “All right, maybe I do . . . a lot of the time . . . and maybe it really is your turn . . .”

  Toby grinned. “That’s a very nice admission to hear.” He took a step closer. “I love you, Miriam Brown, and that’s a solid fact. I’m willing to take this as slowly as you need to—we have a lot of catching up to do—but I’m telling you now, I intend to marry you someday.”

  He still wanted to marry her after everything that had happened. That seemed almost impossible to believe, and yet, he’d said the words. She hadn’t imagined it.

  “I’m not sure I’m the marrying type, Toby. Shouldn’t you be choosing someone more settled? Less confused and ornery?”

  “I don’t want someone less confused and ornery. I want you.”

  She smirked. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

  “And I’m not sure you’re accepting compliments right now.” He squeezed her hands. “As slowly as you need to go—just don’t close the door on me. Not again.”

  “You’re still willing to take a chance on me, even knowing I have so many things to learn about myself?”

  “Even knowing all that, and believe me, I’m going through the same thing. Maybe you’re not the only confused and ornery person on this porch.”

  “Hmm. And here I thought I was special.”

  “Oh, so first you’re not accepting compliments, and now you’re fishing for them?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not quite sure what you’re up to, Miss Brown.”

  “I don’t think I know either.” She let go of his hands, but only to sit down again. She was feeling worn out after everything they’d discussed—she wasn’t used to having so many emotions flooding through her at once. She wasn’t used to feeling that many emotions at all—she’d learned to block them out and acknowledge them one at a time. “My grandmother and I spent some time talking last night about my parents and my sense of loss. I think I’m beginning to make sense of it all, but it’s still so raw.”

  “I’m glad you’re sharing that with her. She’s the best one to help you sort through your feelings because she knew your parents best—besides you, of course.”

  “Yes, I can see that now. I just wish I’d understood it years ago.” Miriam sighed. “Do you think we’ll ever reach a point where we automatically respond or behave the way we should right from the start? Or will we always be blundering around in the dark, saying and doing the wrong things, hurting people along the way and stubbing our own toes while we’re at it?”

  “I don’t know,” Toby replied. “I sure hope so. If not, I think we’re all doomed. Life’s about experimentation and learning from those experiments, as my grandma always says. As I get older, I understand a little better what she means.”

  “So . . .” Miriam hated to bring it up and spoil the moment, but she had to know. “What are we now, Toby? We know we have feelings for each other, but I don’t think we’re ready to court, and I can’t think of a way to describe this . . . this awkward truce.”

  He laughed. “Do all awkward truces involve kissing? Because I believe I kissed you a moment ago, unless I imagined it.”

  “No, you kissed me.” Her cheeks grew a little warm as she recalled how much she’d enjoyed that kiss. “But . . . what does it mean?”

  “What if it means that for now, we’re friends, and we’ll decide the rest later? You’re right—we’re not ready to court, and I think it would be foolish to pin ourselves to one definition. In my heart, you’ve always been my girl, and I’m content to keep thinking of you that way until it’s time to make it more official. I have no doubt that day is coming—we just don’t know when.”

  Miriam nodded. It was coming—she knew it too. She also knew that she had a great deal of self-introspection to carry out, and she needed to keep examining her feelings about Toby and making sure that she really had brought out her reasons for being angry with him. If she was holding anything back, it wouldn’t bode well for their future. She needed to be upfront with him about everything—she’d learned that from her grandmother the night before, and she hoped that Toby was ready to make the same sort of commitment.

  “I want to show you something,” he said. “Can you take a buggy ride with me this evening?”

  “Oh, now you’re coming to see me three times in one day? I’m all astonishment.”

  He grinned. “Just keeping you on your toes. Will you come?”

  “Yes, I’ll come.” She had no idea what he wanted to show her, but he was obviously excited about it.

  He stood. “All right, then. I’ll go for now and arrange for a buggy, but I’ll be back around seven.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  She watched him leave, his shoulders straight, a slight bounce in his step. She felt lighter too, even though she was exhausted. She’d released the larger part of her burden, but it had taken a toll on her. She finally realized what Toby meant when he asked about the cost she was paying. She’d actually given up her peace of mind because she was so determined to stay angry.

  But not anymore. She’d learn how to let it go—she’d learn how to find that peace again.

  Chapter Ten

  Toby couldn’t stop grinning as he guided the borrowed horse and buggy along the streets of Topeka toward his destination. On his way to pick up Miriam, he’d worried for a moment that he’d imagined their reconciliation, that he’d turn up and she’d send him away
with as much disdain as she had after the party. But no—she was waiting for him on the front porch, her cameo necklace in the hollow of her throat, and she looked eager to go.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked as the buggy rattled along down the rutted path.

  “I can’t tell you yet, but it’s someplace very special to me,” he replied. He hoped she liked it—he’d envisioned her there so many times, it was impossible to separate them in his mind.

  “That sounds mysterious.”

  “It’s not mysterious, but it is a surprise.” He guided the buggy around a curve, then turned the corner onto another road. As the buggy emerged from the cover of the trees that lined their way, the property he’d chosen stretched before them, and he glanced over to see her reaction. Her eyes were wide, and she seemed unable to find words.

  “Do you like it?” he asked. “I found this spot one day while I was out riding, and I decided it had to be mine someday. I’ve been saving up ever since, and I plan to put a cabin there and a barn there . . .”

  He continued to describe his plans for the place, but he sensed that she wasn’t really listening. As soon as he brought the buggy to a stop, she leaped down and ran several dozen yards, her arms out wide.

  “Miriam?” He climbed down and followed her. “Do you like it?”

  She turned to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “How did you know? Did someone tell you?”

  “Did . . . someone tell me what?”

  “You have to know. Things like this don’t happen by coincidence.”

  He shook his head. “I honestly don’t.”

  She twirled around, her arms stretched out like wings. “This is where my house used to be. Where I was born. The house . . . that burned down.”

  “Really?” Toby couldn’t believe it. Of all the places he could have chosen, of all the places he could have fallen in love with . . . “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! Look.” She pointed down to the ground. “One of the chimney stones is still here. The rest must have been carried off, but this one looks buried too deeply to steal. How would I know the chimney was right there if I’ve never been here before?”

  “You couldn’t know.” Toby shook his head. “And I couldn’t have known either—we never talked about it, and no one ever told me this was the spot.”

  “You’re planning to build here? This isn’t just a dream?”

  “No dream. Once I’ve worked at the newspaper for a couple of months, I’ll have enough to make it a reality. A house, on this spot.” He paused. “Our house, if that’s what you want.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I do want it, Toby. I want it so very much.”

  He grinned. “Well then, Miss Brown, I hereby announce my intention of courting you—still taking things nice and slow, of course, since I have a house to build.” He met her eyes with his gaze. “Are you sure that living here won’t bring back too many sad memories?”

  “I only have one night’s worth of bad memories here, but six whole years of good ones. I was happy here, blissfully happy, and I know I will be again.” She reached out and took his hand. “How is this possible? How can one man be the answer to everything I need? Your patience, your understanding . . . and now, bringing me here . . . There are no coincidences, Toby. This was meant to be.”

  “And don’t forget my hardheadedness . . .”

  “No one could forget your hardheadedness. Or mine.” She looked up into his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for all of it.”

  He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She rested her cheek against his lapel, and they stood that way for several minutes, looking out over the patch of land they would call their own. They would rebuild their relationship as they rebuilt the house, and together, they would build a family—one brick at a time.

  Epilogue

  “Well now, that turned out to be a success after all,” Nola said, waving her scissors for emphasis. “I wasn’t at all sure it would.”

  “I was a little worried too.” Bonnie reached out and took the scissors from Nola’s hand before something unintentional happened.

  “When you have two young people as headstrong as Toby and Miriam, it’s impossible to guess the outcome, but I believe we did all right.” Jane looked around the circle and smiled, feeling more than just a little bit smug. They had quite a lot to congratulate themselves for.

  “If only they’d talked things over in the first place,” Esther mused. “You know what they say—a stitch in time saves nine.”

  “And we should know about a thing or two about stitching,” Thora chimed in.

  “I think that learning to communicate is one of the hardest things about marriage,” Bonnie said. “When the bride and groom get married, they’re coming together from two different places, and they have to learn to speak a common language. Hopefully, Toby and Miriam have learned that lesson and will remember it when things get difficult in the future.”

  “So, when is the wedding?” Maude asked. “If I’m going to make a wedding quilt, I’d best get started on it right away.”

  “The wedding will take place as soon as the house is finished,” Nola replied. “So you’ll have a couple of months, and of course we’ll help with the quilt.”

  “That would be nice. After all, we worked together to bring this wedding about—we might as well work together on the wedding gift.”

  “I must say, I haven’t had so much fun in a good long time.” Thora paused to thread her needle, then continued. “I’m so happy they’re together now, but I’m sad that our little adventure has come to an end.”

  “Are we sure that it must, though?” Maude asked. “I woke up this morning worried about my Peter. Did you know that poor boy has been in love four times, and not one of those girls has returned his feelings? He’s trying to fill his life with work and activities, but what he really wants is a family. I thought that just maybe . . .”

  All eyes turned to Jane. She had no idea why, but they seemed to believe she was in charge of their escapades. She shrugged. Why not? “What do you say, ladies? Shall we take Peter under our wing?”

  “All in favor, say aye!” Maude called out, and seven hands shot into the air.

  Click here for book two of the Sewing Circle, The Ties That Bind.

  About Amelia C. Adams

  Amelia traces her family tree right back to the settlement of the Old West—her great-great-grandmother even drove a wagon to her new home. Amelia is a wife, a mother, and a novelist. She spends her days dreaming up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you might just see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels. She loves all things historical and enjoys learning about days gone by, but she's glad she was born in modern times because the Internet is awesome, and she's glad she doesn't have to wash her clothes by hand in a galvanized tub. She’s an eater of tacos, a taker of naps, and a dreamer of dreams.

  You can reach Amelia at ameliaadamsauthor@gmail.com.

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