Little Shoes and Mistletoe

by Sally Laity

  “Agreed.” Anabelle crossed her arms and gave a decisive nod. “We’ll do it on Fridays then. That is, assuming my coming here won’t upset your schedule, Mrs. Harper.” She swept a glance up to the older woman, who at this point appeared to be in shock.

  With a shake of her snowy head, she recovered nicely. “No, no. Whatever you two decide is fine with me. I’ll still have Eliza to help me the rest of the time.”

  But when Eliza searched her aunt’s lined face, she saw something she hadn’t been aware of before. . .a deep love for her. Concern for her welfare. She couldn’t resist the urge to hug the kind woman.

  As she did, the future which had seemed to hold nothing but bleakness and despair such a short time ago shone with brighter facets. She may not have become the new bride she had expected to be—and possibly never would—but the Lord held her life in His hands. And for the most fleeting of seconds, Eliza could almost glimpse a measure of beauty taking shape in the pattern He’d chosen.

  five

  The smartly fitted black and red barouche rolled smoothly behind matched chestnut geldings. Despite Eliza’s best intentions to put her unhappiness behind her, the grayness of the afternoon sky cast a pallor over her spirit as she rode with her new friend to the quilting circle meeting.

  “You’ll just love the dear ladies who come every week to sew,” Anabelle gushed. “Especially the Madison sisters, Francine and Frederica. Sadly enough, they nursed their sickly parents for so many years, life has passed them by. But a kinder, more selfless pair of spinsters you’ll never find, to say nothing of their blithesome natures. They inspire the rest of us to accept whatever befalls.”

  Eliza stifled a grim smile, wondering if one day someone would make a similar comment about her. Poor Eliza Criswell. For an old maid, she remains amazingly cheerful. I hear she came near to marrying at one time, but her beau ran off with her best friend. Tsk, tsk.

  “It’s to be commended, don’t you think?”

  Realizing Anabelle was awaiting her response, Eliza felt a flush crest her face. “Forgive me; I was thinking about something else and missed what you said.”

  “No matter,” Anabelle said, her fair complexion a stark contrast against the coat’s deep blue hood. “I get rather carried away at times with my chattering. It’s one of my worst faults. I didn’t mean to bore you.”

  “Oh, you weren’t boring me. Not at all. Please, do continue with what you were saying.”

  As if to make sure the plea was sincere, Anabelle scrutinized her for a few seconds, then picked up the thread of conversation. “I was merely stating that Faith Community Church provides many kinds of aid to the immigrants, and thanks to the efforts of the Madison sisters, many other city churches have now undertaken similar programs.”

  “Yes, that is splendid. From what I’ve heard, the need is great.”

  “Quite true. I confess, however, that I fail to share Micah’s obsession for the unfortunates. How he can set foot in those horrid, smelly places, I’ll never know. But after all, some of us labor best from behind the lines.”

  “I heartily agree.”

  At this, a broad smile lit Anabelle’s blithe countenance. “I knew it. From the moment we met, I’ve had a most profound conviction that we’re kindred spirits.”

  “So did I!” Eliza returned the smile. “I’m glad we’ve become friends.”

  The carriage slowed upon nearing the neat, steepled church, then drew to a stop.

  Anabelle pushed aside the fur lap robe covering their legs as the lanky, black-coated driver hopped down from his seat.

  “I’ll call back for you at half-past three, miss,” he said pleasantly, lifting his prominent chin when he helped Anabelle and Eliza alight from the conveyance.

  “Thank you, Graham; that will be fine. Come, Eliza.” Gathering her skirt in one hand on her way up the church steps, Anabelle waited at the top landing for Eliza, and together they entered the building. “We use the basement for our work, since it’s near the furnace and therefore the quickest to heat.”

  Once inside, they hung up their outer wraps and immediately took the stairwell off to the right. Quiet voices from below floated up to meet them, growing louder on their descent.

  When they emerged into the open, Eliza saw that long worktables had been pushed end-to-end, dominating the center of the large room, their flat surfaces sporting piles of assorted materials and works in progress. A dozen or more seamstresses lined both sides.

  “Good day, ladies,” Anabelle sing-songed.

  The workers turned their heads, light glinting off an array of eyeglasses perched on the various noses.

  Eliza manufactured a brave smile.

  “I’ve brought a newcomer to join us,” Anabelle went on. “I’m sure many of you met Eliza Criswell this past Sunday at service. She lives at Harper House now and will be helping with our projects.”

  “Splendid,” a frail waif of an elderly woman said, her voice crackling. “The more the merrier.”

  “Yes, we’re thrilled to have additional hands,” a second, plumper matron added.

  Recognizing a number of faces as Anabelle rattled off everyone’s names, Eliza released a small breath of relief. She wasn’t going to feel so much like a stranger here after all.

  “And you must get to know this charming duo.” Anabelle moved to drape her arms about the shoulders of two bony but handsome ladies of advanced years. “These are the Madison sisters, Miss Francine and Miss Frederica, our mainstays here at Faith Community.”

  “So good to make your acquaintance,” the more outspoken of the two said, while her sister gave a beaming nod. “You girls make yourself right at home.” She waved a spindly, blue-veined hand in the direction of an available spot where they could sit together.

  Anabelle perused the multicolored quilt draping the work space between the sisters. “Oh, I see you’ve nearly finished that one. Eliza and I will begin piecing a new top.” She helped herself to the scissors, needles, and thread they would need, then rooted through the available scraps, which she placed in close proximity for working.

  The afternoon went swiftly for Eliza, listening to the chatter and gentle teasing passing back and forth among the workers, but she couldn’t help wondering how Aunt Phoebe was making out on her own.

  Idly surveying the work going on around her, she noticed a lovely finished coverlet similar to one her mother had pieced years ago for a hope chest better forgotten. Before the memory could inflict pain, she centered on the need to write home and let her parents know that being here in New York agreed with her.

  As the session wound down to a close and two ladies folded a newly finished quilt, the heavy clomp of masculine footsteps sounded from the stairs. Micah Richmond entered, his face red from the outside chill. “Greetings, ladies. Thought I’d come by for the latest offerings.” He rubbed his gloved hands together as if to generate some warmth.

  “We’ve done three more this afternoon,” one of the Madi-sons informed him. “Now that we’ve got a new helper—” She smiled at Eliza graciously. “We should be a little more productive each month.”

  “Wonderful.” He grinned at the older woman before turning his deep-set hazel eyes upon Eliza. “I assure you, we can use as many of these as your nimble fingers can provide.”

  Eliza watched Anabelle move to his side, the young woman’s gaze and her smile dreamy as they rested on his manly features. When Micah drew her within the crook of his arm, the sight sent a sad remembrance through Eliza. She lowered her lashes and busied herself helping the others set the work area to rights once more.

  Micah would have had to be blind not to notice the bright spots of color both Anabelle and Eliza provided amid this gathering of somberly attired matrons and widows. Not only had the pair dressed in rich jewel hues, but they were the only two whose hair was neither white nor some shade of gray. Even their faces bore a youth
ful radiance, with Miss Criswell’s taking on a deeper rose whenever he looked her way. Curious, how she never quite met his eyes, but perhaps she was shy.

  “Well, now,” he said casually, tightening his arm about Anabelle’s slender form, “I know some folks who will truly appreciate your tireless labors. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. We’ll waste no time in delivering them where they’re most needed.”

  “Will I see you this evening?” Anabelle asked as he released her and moved away to pick up the neat stack of quilts waiting at the end of one table.

  “Most likely.”

  “Marvelous. We’ll expect you for supper then.”

  “Fine. I’ll be there.” Leaning to plant a quick peck on her cheek, he gave her chin a loving tweak with his free hand, then waved good-bye to the others. “Thanks again, ladies. God bless you all.”

  Mounting the stairs two at a time, he hurried to his waiting buggy. He’d head directly to Child Placement to collect his assistant, Mrs. Wallace, and the two of them would take the coverlets to some needy tenement families. And after that, he’d go to Ana’s.

  Thoughts of his intended rambled through his busy mind, and he smiled. She seemed much happier since Eliza Cris-well’s arrival in town. The pair seemed to get along royally, which was gratifying, considering he’d suggested Anabelle befriend Mrs. Harper’s niece mainly for the newcomer’s benefit. But whatever the outcome of this blossoming friendship, he appreciated seeing those green eyes of Anabelle’s sparkling again.

  He only wished he had generated some of that dazzle himself.

  ❧

  When Eliza got home, she found her aunt in her favorite rocking chair, working on a needlepoint case for spectacles.

  The older woman looked up. “Did you enjoy your outing, my dear?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s rather amazing to see how much a group of women can accomplish in a single afternoon. And it’s a joy to be with Anabelle.” She drew a hesitant breath. “Her beau stopped by when we were finishing up.”

  “Is that so?” Aunt Phoebe nudged her special sewing glasses a notch higher but continued to peer over them at her.

  “Yes, to pick up the finished quilts.” Even as she elaborated on Micah Richmond’s visit, Eliza wondered why she’d bothered to mention it. Nevertheless, she could not restrain her tongue. “It seems he delivers them almost the moment the last thread has been tied.”

  “That does not surprise me. I’ve yet to meet a more industrious lad. His parents would have been proud of his generous spirit. Of course, to be truthful, he is much like they were themselves. It was a great loss to our church when his dear mother passed away suddenly, to be followed soon after by his father. Of course, Micah’s family and Anabelle’s were very close friends, and the Dumonts treat him like their own son. He will be, soon enough, I expect.”

  Eliza nodded thoughtfully, reflecting on the striking couple Anabelle and Micah made.

  The older woman studied her for a moment. “It does my heart good to see you perking up, dear. I don’t mind telling you, I was quite concerned over you when you first arrived from Harrisburg.”

  “I suppose I’m destined to live after all,” Eliza admitted candidly, then paused with a sad smile. “But still, there are certain things I can’t allow myself to dwell on just yet.”

  Her aunt nodded. “I never met that young man of yours, so I realize I’m making a rash judgment when I speak ill of him. But I’ve known you all your life, Eliza, and it boggles this old mind that anyone could treat you shamefully.”

  With suppressed tears so very near the surface these days, Eliza fought hard to keep them at bay.

  “But never you mind about him, my dear. It has always been my experience that the Lord never takes something away from us without replacing it with something better. And I’m sure He has someone wonderful and more deserving of you in store. Wait and see.” She picked up her needlepoint and resumed working.

  Watching her, Eliza pondered those last statements. She sincerely doubted she wanted to be that vulnerable again—ever. Just now that was about the last thing on her list of desires. But considering her aunt’s optimistic statement, Eliza felt the need to clarify it. “Auntie, when the Lord took Uncle Amos all those years ago, did He send you someone. . .better?”

  The old hands stilled once more, and the watery blue eyes turned to her. “Yes and no. Of course, I could never imagine loving another man the way I did my Captain. It was like losing a part of myself when his ship went down. Took me ages to stop looking out the window, expecting to see him coming up the walk with those long sweeping strides of his, hearing that jaunty whistle that so cheered my days.”

  A wistful expression gentled the creases in the aged countenance. “But gradually I became aware of the soothing presence of the Comforter Whom God tells us about in His Word. The Holy Spirit became very real to me, in a way I’d never experienced before. And He is a great blessing and has been through the years. That is what has sustained me since Cap’s been gone.”

  Eliza felt the gathering tears trembling on her lashes. Her heart ached for Aunt Phoebe’s loss and for her own. Perhaps the day would come when she could think of Weston and Melanie without wanting to scream or cry. But at the moment she felt compelled to go and hug her aunt, perhaps absorb some of that peaceful spirit that somehow radiated from her very being.

  Tonight, she would ask God to make His presence more real in her own empty life. Anything to fill the aching void that gaped within her heart.

  six

  Thanksgiving, a quiet affair for two, provided a time of challenge, with Eliza and her Aunt Phoebe trying to outdo one another in relating their blessings. Though it started out in all seriousness over dried apple pie after a small but delectable feast, it soon became apparent that neither wanted to relinquish the opportunity to have the last word.

  “Well, I am thankful to still be living here at Harper House,” the older woman said, “where so many of life’s precious memories still bring me joy.”

  Eliza tipped her head respectfully. “And I am glad you’re still here, making precious memories with me.”

  “How sweet. And now that you mention it, I am thankful to have company at last. To hear someone else’s footsteps and laughter besides my own.”

  “Then, both of us are grateful to Weston for furnishing me with a reason to come!” Even though Eliza had spoken without thinking, the fact that she truly meant it made her sputter into a giggle. Her aunt joined in, and they laughed until tears ran down their faces.

  For a brief moment, Eliza feared she would not be able to stop crying, and the astute older woman’s expression gentled.

  “It hurt very deeply, I would expect.”

  Eliza blotted the corners of her eyes on her napkin and nodded. “Perhaps it might have been easier to bear if—” She could hardly utter the words. “Why did he have to choose my very dearest friend?” Tears again blurred her vision, and she rushed to say the rest before her throat closed up. “I could have turned to Melanie for solace, but instead, I’ve had to learn to live without her, too.”

  “I know, child.” Aunt Phoebe inhaled slowly, deeply. Her loving fingers stroked Eliza’s arm, letting her cry as long as she needed to. “Sometimes I wonder how we manage to endure some of the losses we are asked to suffer. And all I can say is that our heavenly Father’s heart breaks right along with ours, and then He gives the strength we need.”

  When Eliza’s inner turmoil subsided, she gathered herself together. She searched the kind, frail face across the table, and her heart swelled with love. “You know, Auntie, not too long ago, I wondered if I would ever be happy again. But somehow, since coming to be with you, I’ve actually started ‘forgetting the past,’ as the apostle Paul put it. Not that I have come up with any grandiose plans for my future, mind you. I don’t care to look that far ahead. But at least I can trust God for today without fearing what
tomorrow may bring. Does that sound strange?”

  “Not at all, my dear, not at all.” Closing her crooked fingers over Eliza’s, she smiled. “I would say it’s an answer to prayer.” Her blue eyes sparkled again. “For which I am deeply grateful.”

  “Oh, no!” Eliza laughed in feigned shock. “Now you’ve made it my turn again. . . .”

  ❧

  November ended and December took its place, bringing shorter, changeable days which featured brilliant sunshine or banks of endless gray clouds. Holly boughs and evergreen wreaths tied with crimson ribbons lent a festive air to lampposts and front doors all over the city.

  In view of the coming holidays, Aunt Phoebe set out an abundance of red candles and velvet-bowed decorations. And the bell above the gift shop door rang with more frequency, necessitating long evenings of labor to replace merchandise which had been sold.

  Eliza took pride in the quality of work she now turned out, both at home and in the quilting circle at church. But most of all, she treasured her times of solitude in her room when she sought the company of the loving Comforter Whose soothing presence her aunt so appreciated. Morning and evening Bible reading and prayer became less a duty and more a joyous communion with a dearest Friend. And in the light of the indescribable peace that now filled Eliza, past disappointments faded into insignificance as she began to pray that her life would have meaning and purpose.

  On Thursday, Anabelle stayed home in bed with a cold but sent her driver as usual to transport Eliza to church. While she was glad to go, Eliza found the activity rather lonely without the willowy young woman’s company and good-natured chatter. Nevertheless, the afternoon did pass swiftly, with four more coverlets completed.

  It was Eliza’s turn to tidy up at the close of the sewing session, so after the other ladies put away the supplies and took their leave, Eliza swept the loose threads from the floor. The silence of the almost-empty building magnified the peculiar creaks and groans caused by the wind, sounds that had been scarcely noticeable earlier amid the banter and conversation. Now they echoed hollowly from wall to wall. Eager to be finished with the chore, she hurriedly dumped the dustpan into a waste bin in the storage closet.