Little Shoes and Mistletoe

by Sally Laity

  “Fuss and bother,” Aunt Phoebe muttered, but a sparkle in her eye belied her frown. “A simple chill is nothing to concern oneself about.”

  “Perhaps not,” he said. “Nevertheless, we shall see that you get home as quickly as possible.”

  When they reached the bottom step and the driver of the buggy pulled forward to the end of the walk, Micah effortlessly picked Aunt Phoebe up and deposited her onto the leather seat, then assisted Eliza and spread the lap robe over them both. “I’ll check in on you later,” he said, touching the older woman’s sleeve, then nodded to Eliza and the driver.

  A flick of the reins set the gelding in motion.

  The sincerity she’d glimpsed in Micah’s hazel eyes touched Eliza deeply, and she drew much comfort in knowing he truly cared about her aged aunt. No doubt his prayers would join her own wordless pleas for the older woman’s welfare.

  And perhaps God, in His mercy, would grant renewed health one more time. Trying to rest upon this assurance, Eliza swallowed and relaxed against the upholstery.

  Once they reached Harper House, Eliza paid the stocky driver and hopped down from the buggy.

  He followed a second later. “Always glad to lend a hand to fair ladies,” he said in explanation, and gently helped Aunt Phoebe to alight and guided her to the door.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” the older woman whispered, utterly spent.

  “Yes. Thank you so much.” With a grateful smile, Eliza ushered her aunt inside and to her bedroom, thankful that the older woman occupied a first-floor chamber. She dispensed with both their outer wraps as Aunt Phoebe sank onto her feather bed.

  “There, that’s better,” Eliza crooned. “Let me cover you up, then I’ll go make some nice broth and tea for you.”

  “Later, perhaps,” came her aunt’s labored whisper. “I’ll sleep now.” And almost as soon as her silvery hair touched the pillow, her eyelids fluttered closed.

  Not quite ready to take her leave, Eliza remained where she was for several moments, listening until the uneven breaths became more regular. Then she tiptoed out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  The big house seemed unnaturally quiet at this hour, even though Aunt Phoebe’s Sunday naps had been a custom since before Eliza’s arrival. She felt at a loss and paced the sitting room aimlessly as she tried to relinquish control of the situation to the Lord. Please, please, Father. . .make her well again. She has so much to do here. . . .

  True to his word, Micah Richmond stopped by a few hours later.

  At the sight of him, Eliza’s heart skipped a beat, but she convinced herself she’d have been just as glad to see any friendly face after being alone with her disquiet all that time.

  He hung his coat on a wrought-iron hook just inside the door, followed by his scarf and bowler. “How’s our patient faring?” he asked and blew into his chapped hands.

  She shrugged, hugging herself. “She seems to be sleeping peacefully whenever I peek in on her. See what you think.”

  He nodded. “I stopped by her doctor’s house on the way here. He wasn’t home, but I took the liberty of leaving word for him to call first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you. I—” At his kindness, the floodgates behind Eliza’s eyes threatened to collapse. She’d successfully banked her anxieties in her aunt’s presence, and then later when she’d been by herself. But now those defenses started to crumble, and the thought absolutely mortified her. She just couldn’t fall apart now, not in front of Micah, of all people.

  He seemed to sense her distress and took a step closer.

  A jolt of alarm shot through Eliza. She almost expected him to put his arms around her.

  But he merely gave her shoulder an empathetic squeeze. “Everything will be all right, my friend. As I prayed for your aunt on my drive here, a feeling of great peace came over me. I believe the Lord will bring her through.”

  Eliza blinked away telltale mistiness and managed a smile.

  He stared for a few seconds, then, appearing satisfied, he strode quietly up the hallway to the older woman’s room.

  The scent of his hair balm lingered in his wake, as did the warmth and strength of his touch.

  Eliza scolded herself. It was only a friendly gesture, for pity’s sake.

  But, oh, the comfort her soul had drawn from it.

  Quickly reining in her wayward imaginings before they turned utterly ridiculous, she attributed her momentary weakness to a touch of homesickness for her demonstrative parents. She must have missed a hundred hugs since she’d left. . .some of which should have been Weston’s embraces.

  Weston. No doubt all of his displays of affection were lavished on Melanie now. . . .

  Surprisingly, that thought didn’t carry the usual sting. That saying about time and its healing powers must be true.

  An almost imperceptible squeak from the other end of the hall brought Eliza back to the present. But before she could compose herself, her breath caught as Micah came into view. Oh, Anabelle. I sorely wish you had come, too. “H–how is she?”

  “Resting quietly, as you said. Her color appears to be improving also.”

  Eliza touched a hand to her throat in relief. “Truly?”

  Micah nodded. “She awakened for a few moments, so I offered a short prayer, and that seemed to comfort her. She drifted off to sleep again.”

  “Well, thank you. For coming, I mean. I know my aunt thinks the world of you.”

  “And I of her.” His expression turned unreadable. “You share some of your aunt’s finer qualities, you know.”

  The heat of a blush crested Eliza’s cheeks. Speechless, she had no idea whether to accept the statement or challenge it. She said nothing.

  If he noticed her reaction, Micah gave no indication as he crossed to the wall peg, took down his coat, and pulled it on. “Well, the doctor should come by in the morning. I’ll keep the two of you in my thoughts and prayers this eve.”

  “Thank you,” Eliza murmured, knowing he should leave, wishing he would stay, and aware that she had no right to wishes concerning Micah Richmond.

  And with a buoyant wave, he was gone.

  nine

  Eliza peeked in at Aunt Phoebe, then went upstairs to her own room. Her cheeks still burned with shame at the brazenly wanton thoughts regarding Micah. Falling to her knees beside the bed, she clasped her hands and bowed her head.

  Dear heavenly Father, I’m truly mixed up and have no one to turn to except You. I beg Your forgiveness for my foolishness. When Weston tossed me aside, I almost hated him—as much for breaking my heart as for depriving me of Melanie, my dearest friend in the world. But with the passing of days and weeks, I realized I had no choice other than to accept my sad fate. With Your help, and Aunt Phoebe’s kindness and love, I’ve done just that. I no longer harbor ill feelings toward Weston. I don’t love him or hate him, and I’d rather spend the rest of my life alone than to be that vulnerable ever again.

  But what I cannot understand is why I feel so drawn to Micah Richmond. I do not want someone to replace Weston—and it’s not as if he were inclined to do so anyway. He’s not free, Father. He belongs to Anabelle, and she is the best friend I have in this world just now. Please help me not to be untrustworthy or unfaithful to this new friendship.

  I’m just being a silly goose, and I know it. So, please, help me to think clearly again and act rationally. Don’t let me lose myself to daydreams and fantasies. I want You to fill all the needs of my heart. Help me to be the person You want me to be, and may my life glorify You always.

  A new peace came over Eliza, enveloping her in its warmth. She stood to her feet and removed her Bible from the bedside table, then sank into the comfort of the chaise. Opening to the book of Psalms, she feasted upon the bounty before her.

  ❧

  “My, but you seem preoccupied this evening,” Anabelle remarked, setting
the tray of scones and tea on the lamp table. She smoothed her butternut gabardine skirt with her fingers.

  Micah gave her a one-sided smile and took her hand, drawing her down to the settee next to him. “Forgive me, sweetheart. I was just thinking of Mrs. Harper. She had a spell this morning at church.”

  “Oh, yes.” Snuggling closer, she rested her golden head against his shoulder. “I thought I noticed Eliza leading her away after the service, rather than allowing her to visit with the other ladies as she normally does.” She turned her face upward, meeting his gaze. “Is it something serious? Has there been word?”

  He traced a finger lightly along her delicate jawline, catching the sincerity in her eyes, and his heart contracted. “I really couldn’t say, just yet. I stopped by the house on my way over here to see how she’s doing. She seemed to be resting and looked a little better than she did at church. I prayed with her and left. No doubt the doctor will run by there tomorrow.”

  “Then I shall pray for her tonight when I go to bed. How was Eliza coping?” she asked casually.

  “Same as always. Had her aunt all tucked in bed with a tea tray waiting for when she awakened. Naturally she’s worried, but she seems determined to leave the matter in God’s hands.”

  Ana gave a consenting nod. A quiet moment elapsed before she spoke again. “Eliza is very. . .lonely.”

  “Think so?”

  Another nod. “She left all her friends behind, you know, in Harrisburg. I think she’s getting a bit homesick.”

  “Could be.”

  “I wish she’d agree to attend some Christmas concerts with us. In the company of, say, Phillip Madison. Or even Charles Sprocket. A foursome would be such fun.”

  “Why don’t you suggest it?” Even as he asked, Micah tried to picture gentle Eliza in the company of slick-handed Phillip or nasal-voiced Charles. He grimaced.

  Ana toyed with the lace edging on her ivory silk sleeve. “Oh, but I have. She says she’s not in the least interested.”

  “Well, then, we should accept her decision.”

  Leaning forward, Anabelle poured tea into the china cups, handing one to Micah. She added her customary two sugar lumps to hers and stirred it, the spoon making soft clicking sounds with her movements. Then she took a sip and set her cup down again. “I think Eliza was jilted.”

  Micah swallowed too quickly and held his breath as the scalding liquid singed his throat. He took a bite of a raisin scone, trying to envision the kind of rat who could inflict pain on someone like Eliza.

  “She hasn’t told me so,” Ana admitted. “At least, not in so many words. But she’s alluded to something sad. I’m sure she’ll come out with the whole story one of these days.”

  “Let’s wait, then. No sense making up stories that might or might not be true.”

  “And in the meanwhile, why don’t you check with Phillip or Charles and see if either of them would consider escorting our new friend about town? I’m sure if I keep after her, Eliza will agree to join us.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Splendid.” A sweet smile spread across Anabelle’s lips.

  ❧

  “Oh, I think complete bed rest for a week or so should suffice,” Doctor Jenson said, tucking his instruments into the old black bag he’d brought with him before slipping into his equally worn black suit coat.

  “A week!” Aunt Phoebe groaned.

  “Only a week?” Eliza could not mask her elation that her aunt’s spell hadn’t been more serious. Or that it hadn’t been her imagination that the older woman looked more like herself this morning, even if a touch pale. Thinning hair draped the shoulders of her nightdress in two slender braids.

  “That’s what I said, ladies. A week.” The white-haired old man winked at Eliza, then glared pointedly through his monocle at his patient. “And you’d best follow my orders, Phoebe, or I’ll put you in the hospital myself. You manage to get yourself in a fix every year at this time, seems like, working yourself to death for that shop out front.”

  “Well, if I didn’t, there’d be a lot of people without gifts for Christmas,” she said in her own defense. After the good night’s sleep, her voice had regained some of its force.

  “Be that as it may, I expect you to stay in bed. This niece of yours appears perfectly capable of seeing to business.” He glanced at his silver pocket watch, then tucked it into the fob pocket of his vest. “I’ll check back day after tomorrow to see how you’re doing. Good day, Phoebe. Miss.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Eliza came around from the other side of her aunt’s bed. “I’ll show you out.” As she led the way, she had to ask the question, had to satisfy herself. “She’s really going to be all right? She’s just overtired?”

  “That’s right. Wears herself out every holiday season, regular as clockwork. The old gal must think she’s still a spring chicken.”

  Eliza smiled. “Well, I’ll see that she obeys your orders. You can count on me.”

  He flicked a teasing grin over his shoulder. “Kinda thought that, just looking at you. Good day, miss.” Plunking his hat atop his head, he nodded and took his leave.

  Eliza all but skipped back to her aunt’s room.

  ❧

  The next morning Eliza had the shop dusted and open for business bright and early and discovered she enjoyed dealing with the customers, many of whom asked after her aunt and expressed their regards. Mostly women, they appreciated the quality of the goods. Eliza took singular pleasure when a patron would stop to admire something she’d done herself.

  “Does this tea towel come in other designs?” a heavy-set lady asked as she browsed among the wares that afternoon, perusing, touching this and that with plump, bejeweled fingers.

  “Yes. In fact, we’ve a selection of floral patterns in stock. Let me show you.” Crossing to her, Eliza bent to open a drawer beneath the display of towels and brought out several others for the woman to examine.

  After some consideration, she pursed her lips and inclined her head. “I’ll take these two. My daughter’s to be married in the spring. She loves getting pretty things for her hope chest.”

  “Then you’ve made a fine choice. A young wife would be proud to have these in her kitchen. Will there be anything else, madam?”

  “Yes, that lily-of-the-valley tablecloth.” Her index finger indicated the folded linen cover displayed to one side. “It’s simply exquisite.” She dug into her handbag.

  Having finished embroidering the design in the cloth’s four corners scarcely a week ago, Eliza tried not to blush as she wrapped the items and made change.

  “Thank you, miss. Good day.”

  The bell above the door trilled on her departure.

  Eliza swivelled to refold a few items that needed to be tidied before turning the Closed sign outward.

  “So, how’s our patient today?” Micah’s resonant voice rang through the quiet room.

  Eliza jumped, inadvertently knocking a stack of crocheted doilies to the floor. Before she could stoop to gather them, he beat her to it and handed them over with a smile. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “No harm done. I–I just didn’t hear anyone come in,” she said inanely, hating the flush rising upward from her collar.

  “I happened to arrive just as that last lady was leaving.”

  “I see.” Eliza’s hands began an irritating tremble. Hoping it was not obvious, she reached to tuck a loose strand of hair into her hair net, then purposely laced her fingers together behind her back.

  “Thought I’d stop by for the weekly donation,” Micah went on. “But first I’d like to see Mrs. Harper, if I may.”

  “Of course.” Gradually regaining her equilibrium, Eliza smiled. “The doctor’s making her stay in bed all week, so she’s a mite testy, but I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

  “Splendid.” He
spun on his heel and stepped into the hall.

  His temporary absence gave Eliza a chance to call herself a few names for being so flustered. A fine way to act, she thought scathingly, considering that fervent prayer just last eve. She simply had to conquer her silly tendency to go all aflutter whenever Micah Richmond appeared. To start with, she drew several calming breaths, which did help. She repeated the procedure off and on while he remained with her aunt. He is merely a friend, she lectured inwardly. A friend who is spoken for. “And you are a goose,” she added for good measure.

  “Did you say something?” Exactly when Micah had exited Aunt Phoebe’s room would remain a mystery, but those long strides of his quickly brought him into the parlor.

  Eliza turned her eyes skyward. “Counting,” she blurted. “I was merely counting stock.” Bother. Now I’m resorting to lying? This just has to stop.

  “Oh. Well, it appears the Lord has seen fit to answer our prayers and restore your dear aunt to health once again.”

  The small reminder of the Lord’s constant presence reinforced Eliza’s guilt. “Yes. I’m so thankful. She was able to take some broth and toast earlier. And I can tell from her temper she’ll soon be back to feeling like herself.”

  He chuckled, a warm, low rumble that made Eliza smile.

  “I’ll get the funds she left for you.” Aware of his gaze following her movements, but unable to do anything about it, Eliza somehow managed to get to the drawer and find the packet quickly. She held it out to him.

  A broad grin appeared as he closed his fingers around the envelope. “I do thank you immensely. Both of you. As I mentioned before, everything helps.”

  “I’ve been wondering, have there been any new developments for the little girls since our visit? Rosa and Gabriella, I mean?”

  Micah tipped his head slightly in thought. “I was there just yesterday, actually. The family’s doing their level best to cope with the extra mouths to feed, now that there’s less income to live on. It’s not easy, by any stretch of the imagination.”