Running Stitches

by Carol Dean Jones

  “No,” she answered again. “Nothing that I know of.”

  “And when did you first notice it missing?” he asked, even though they’d already covered that.

  “At least a month ago,” she said, annoyed. “And I know I should have reported it earlier. I guess I thought it would show up.” Sarah knew that wasn’t entirely true, but she didn’t want to try to explain an elderly person’s feelings of vulnerability to this very young officer.

  As he was walking toward the door, Sarah asked if they are usually successful in finding stolen items. “Rarely,” he answered curtly and left.

  “Well that was a waste of time,” she said to Barney. “Let’s go eat lunch.” Barney wiggled his approval and they headed for the kitchen.

  Chapter 20

  Bea entered Persnickety Place early the next morning to clean the ice cream machine and get the shop set up for the day. As she unlocked the back door, she saw something move in the gazebo. She moved closer and realized the young girl was back and appeared to be sleeping. Bea wondered what she should do. The girl was very young and probably a runaway. Should I call the police? She went back into the shop, poured the cleaning solution into the machine, and turned it on so it could be processing while she decided what to do about the girl. Maybe I should talk to her first.

  By the time she washed her hands and turned to go outside, she saw the girl hurrying away. “Please wait,” Bea called after her. The girl stopped, looking confused about what to do next. “Come on back, please. I just wanted to say hello.” The girl reluctantly walked toward her, looking disheveled and tired. “I’m hungry,” Bea added, “and was going to walk up to the cafe for a little breakfast. Would you like to come with me?”

  “No, thank you,” the girl responded.

  “My treat. I hate to eat alone,” she added with a friendly smile.

  The girl looked at the woman and sensed that she was not a danger to her. The girl was very hungry. She thought about the stale rolls she had stuffed into her duffle bag the night before. That was to be breakfast. A hot meal at the cafe sounded tempting. Maybe even hot cocoa. “I guess,” she said hesitantly.

  While walking the two blocks to the cafe, Bea kept the conversation going. She asked the girl’s name and the girl said it was Catherine. Bea doubted that was her real name because she was hesitant, then stumbled over the word as she said it. “Catherine,” the girl repeated more confidently this time, as if she decided that would be a good name.

  When they reached the cafe, the girl relaxed and seemed eager for the food to arrive. They ordered cocoa and the girl drank the whole cup straight down. Bea ordered her a second cup. “Where are you from?” Bea asked, as casually as she could, hoping not to cause the girl to withdraw.

  “Oh, I’m from another state. I’m here visiting my grandmother.” She dropped her eyes as she spoke and began fidgeting with her napkin.

  Another lie. She’s surely a runaway. I’ll get a good meal in her and call the police. She needs to be taken to a safe place. The eggs and hotcakes arrived and the girl seemed to come alive over the food. She smiled at Bea and ate with gusto. She even asked a few questions about Bea’s shop. Bea told her about the Christmas Room and asked if she would like to come in and look around. The girl said she would love that and rewarded Bea with a warm smile.

  “I need to use the girl’s room first,” the girl said. Bea pointed the way and signaled the waitress for the bill.

  “Sweet girl,” the waitress said as she took Bea’s money.

  “You know her?” Bea said with surprise.

  “She’s been in a couple of times this week. She always seems very hungry, but only orders a cup of soup. I don’t know where she lives but she’s always out pretty late. She must live nearby.” Bea doubted that the girl was anywhere near her home, assuming she had one somewhere. She would call the police as soon as they returned to the shop.

  Bea sat back down in the booth to wait. The girl had been gone a long time but Bea decided she was probably washing up. Bea waited another five minutes and decided to check on her. The ladies room was empty. The back door was ajar. The girl was gone.

  * * *

  “Sarah,” Amanda said anxiously as Sarah picked up the phone. “I’m so glad you’re home! You need to get over to the court house right away. The judge wants Andy in the courtroom when he responds to the district attorney’s recommendation. It’s an open hearing and I knew you would want to be there to support him. Bring Sophie too, if you can. The more support he can get, the better. I have one of the guards from the prison farm coming, too, just in case the judge will allow him to speak on Andy’s behalf.

  “Will they want me to speak?” Sarah asked.

  “I doubt it,” she responded. “It’s not a trial. The judge will be deciding whether to accept the DA’s recommendation or if the case will go to trial. We’ll let Michelson know you’re in the courtroom just in case he sees an opportunity for you to speak on Andy’s behalf.”

  “We’ll be there,” Sarah announced confidently, feeling certain Sophie would agree. The hearing was scheduled for the morning of Sarah’s sampler quilt class but this was more important. She called Ruth and explained and Ruth promised to save a copy of the instructions for her and offered to give her any help she needed.

  * * *

  The phone in Ruth’s shop rang again. It was her brother. “He died this morning, Ruth,” Jacob said. His voice sounded hollow.

  “Was he at home?” she asked.

  “No. He didn’t make it home. His heart gave out while they were preparing him for the trip. It’s merciful that he’s gone. He’s been in excruciating pain for months. I just wish he could have died in his own bed like he wanted to.”

  Ruth felt the same hollowness in her chest that Jacob had in his voice. She wondered how she could feel such pain for the loss of a father who’d rejected her over twenty years ago. But he was her father. She loved him no matter what. When she was young, she used to pretend she was his favorite and would make up conversations between them that always ended with him giving her a big smile and a fatherly hug.

  “Should I come for the funeral?” Ruth asked her brother.

  “Sister, it would be better for Mama if you don’t come. It wasn’t just Papa, you know. He was responding to the community rules and Mama needs her community right now. I think it would be awkward for her, and she is barely holding up as it is, what with Papa’s death and her own illness. I’m sorry, Ruth…”

  “No, Jacob. I understand completely. Just give her a hug from me and tell her I love her and I’ll be praying for the family. And assure her I won’t be there.”

  “Thank you, sister. I appreciate your understanding. And I miss you so very much. I often think of our times together, even though I was very young.”

  “Yes, Jacob. I miss you, too.” She remembered taking Jacob down to the pond when he was about five. They fished with a string tied to a stick. When she got a chance, she would scoop up a minnow in her hand and say, “Look what you caught.” Jacob would jump for joy and run home to tell Mama. Those were good days.

  Not knowing what else to say, they said goodbye. Ruth returned to her work in the shop but the fabrics didn’t look as colorful, and the sun didn’t seem to be shining as bright. She held back the tears that struggled to escape.

  Chapter 21

  The court room was almost empty. Sarah and Sophie took seats in the second row behind Andy and his lawyer. Michelson was not what Sarah expected. He was short and his hair was unkempt. He wore a suit which may have fit him perfectly twenty pounds ago, but now it pulled across his back straining the shoulder seams. Sarah was sure he couldn’t button the jacket. He looked at Andy like he never saw him before. The man seemed out of place in the court room.

  The man at the table on the opposite side of the aisle was probably the district attorney, Sarah figured. In contrast to Michelson, he was dressed in an expensive looking dark blue suit with a white shirt and a red print tie. He was well g
roomed and spoke to the others at his table decisively.

  Andy looked good. Sarah was accustomed to seeing him in jeans and a baseball shirt with his gray hair always in need of attention. He had a habit of running his hand through his hair when he was thinking, leaving it standing straight up. Today he was dressed in a suit and his hair was freshly cut and styled. Sarah wondered whether she would have recognized him if they met on the street. Of course, she knew she would know him by his kind eyes, which were focused on her now. He was able to tell her how happy he was that she came to court simply with a look. She smiled and threw him an air kiss.

  “Stop that!” Sophie fussed. “You’re too old for such juvenile behavior!”

  “Sorry. I’ll be good,” Sarah responded, giggling.

  “Humph.”

  Just then the doors opened in the front of the courtroom and the judge entered the room as everyone stood. “Be seated,” the judge said gruffly. He shot a look of distain at Andy’s lawyer. Sarah started to worry.

  After a series of what Sarah assumed were normal procedures, the judge again looked at Michelson. He then looked at the district attorney and said that before he could rule on the recommendations, he needed to meet the accused. Michelson stood and poked Andy to stand up again. “This is Andy Burgess, your honor.”

  “Mr. Burgess. I have read the current charges against you. A prison break, as I understand it…”

  “Your honor,” Michelson interrupted. “It can hardly be characterized as a prison break. Mr. Burgess simply walked away from the prison.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Michelson,” the judge said sarcastically.” We will call it a prison walking away if you prefer.”

  Continuing to speak directly to Andy, the judge said, “I’ve read all the reports pertaining to your incarceration at Evanston prison, Mr. Burgess. I’ve read comments by the guards and the administration as to your exemplary conduct. I’ve read the pre-parole hearing reports and it looks like you were within months of being released. What I want to understand is why you left the grounds. Why would you jeopardize all that you had going for you?”

  There was silence in the court room. Michelson leaned over and whispered something to Andy. “I should speak?” Andy asked aloud.

  “Yes, Mr. Burgess, you should speak,” the judge responded. “Please come up to the front and answer my question.”

  Andy, already standing, walked around the table and to the front of the room. He stood at military attention. The judge said, “At ease,” and Andy assumed the military at ease position. “You have military background?” the judge asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “Yes, sir. Korea.”

  “Okay. Well, how about telling me just why you felt you had to walk away at that very moment.”

  Andy took a deep breath and began talking. He told the judge about carrot-top and about learning his daughter had run off. He even went into the story about offering to marry Catherine and her marrying Buck instead. At one point the judge gave a little hand signal indicating he would like for Andy to get on with the relevant part of the story.

  “I couldn’t leave her out there with no one. I had to help her. I was going to find her and take her to my friends who’d look after her, and then I was going to come right back.”

  “You were planning to come back?” the judge asked in a skeptical tone.

  “Yes! Absolutely!” Andy responded adamantly. “I was going to return. In fact, when I knew my friends were going to find her for me, I DID come right back! I turned myself in.”

  “Hmm. Well, that’s true. You did. And that’s admirable. I’m inclined to accept the recommendation of the district attorney and Mr. Michelson. I guess the only thing I have a problem with is sending you back to minimum security. How do I know you won’t pull off a second walking away once you’re returned?” As he said the words, the judge raised both eyebrows and stared wide-eyed at Michelson.

  “I can give you my word. My word is good,” Andy said.

  “Yes, I believe it is,” the judge responded. “The reason I’m considering sending you back to Evanston is this--they’ve requested you back and that’s very unusual. They generally don’t welcome the return of their walk aways. What I’m hearing from them is that the computer classes you’re teaching are having a positive impact on the prisoners. There’s a slim chance that, once these men have a skill, they just might stop using my court as a revolving door. Do you agree?”

  “Yes, sir.” Andy said, standing straight and looking the judge in the eye. The judge knew that this man would accept his decision, whatever it was, like a gentleman. He was no criminal and he didn’t belong in the system.

  “I’m going to accept the recommendation. The charges of walking away will be dismissed.” He looked again at Michelson with distain. “As for your upcoming parole hearing, I’m going to further recommend that your recent actions, the walking away, not be considered in their decision.”

  “Thank you, your honor,” Andy and Michelson said in unison.

  “Thank you, Lord,” Sarah and Sophie said in unison, as they squeezed each other’s hands.

  Chapter 22

  It had been almost a week since the girl slipped out the back door of the cafe. Bea wondered what had happened to her and decided to go to the cafe and see if anyone there had seen her. She spoke with the same young woman who’d waited on them the previous week, but she assured Bea the girl hadn’t been seen. At Bea’s invitation, the waitress sat with her and had a cup of coffee. The cafe was empty and they sat and speculated about who the young girl might be and where she might have gone. “So young,” the waitress said, shaking her head sadly.

  “How young do you suppose she is?” Bea asked.

  “I think early teens. She looked about the age of my sister’s girls. They’re thirteen and fourteen,” the waitress said. “By the way, my name is Olga. I lost my name tag and haven’t had a chance to make a new one.”

  “I’m Beatrice, but please don’t ever call me that! I’m Bea.”

  “I’ve seen you around here. Do you live nearby?” Olga asked.

  “No, but I work right up the street. I have that little shop in the next block, Persnickety Place.”

  “How do you know the girl?” Olga asked.

  “I don’t know her at all,” Bea responded. “It’s just that she slept a night or two in my gazebo. That’s why I think she must be either homeless or a runaway. I was planning to call the police right after we had breakfast here last week. Maybe she sensed it and that’s why she ran.”

  “Hmm. You never know about kids. She might show up again when she gets hungry.” Bea was not as optimistic. She felt she had scared the girl off. “Please call me if she does,” Bea requested, handing Olga her card.

  As she left the cafe, Bea wondered what it would be like to be young and living on the street. Her heart went out to the girl even though she didn’t know her. There was something very sad about her that Bea sensed. She wondered if her parents missed her. She wished she could help but knew she would probably never see the girl again.

  About that time, a car pulled up and parked across the street in front of Running Stitches, and an attractive woman about Bea’s age waved to her. “Hi, Bea,” the woman called.

  I know this woman but who…who…who. As the woman got out of her car, Bea immediately placed her as the woman who came into her shop a few weeks before. She had someone with her who bought several large bags of Christmas things, but she couldn’t remember this woman’s name.

  The woman crossed the street saying, “Bea, It’s good to see you again. We met a few weeks ago in your shop. I’m Sarah.”

  Of course! Bea admonished herself for not remembering her name, but appreciated that Sarah knew how important it is to keep telling people your name when you’re talking to older folks. Bea knew it was perfectly normal to begin forgetting names. A friend of hers had jokingly explained that it is simply that, once you reach a certain age, your brain is so full of information, that it starts falling off
the back! “Well, there must be a long trail of information behind me!” she had responded.

  “Sarah! It’s good to see you. What’re you doing in town so early?”

  “I’m on my way to Stitches. Ruth is having a sale today and I wanted to get here before the mobs arrive. I think I’m too early though. She doesn’t open for another twenty minutes.”

  “Do you want to walk up the street with me and have a dish of ice cream, my treat?”

  “I never eat ice cream before noon or drink a martini before five,” Sarah said laughing.

  “Well, someone once said it’s five o’clock somewhere, and, by that reasoning, it’s probably noon somewhere as well.” The two women laughed and strolled down the street to Bea’s shop.

  They sat together in the gazebo eating vanilla ice cream with granola sprinkled on top since it was breakfast time. Bea told Sarah about the young girl that had slept in the gazebo a couple of nights and then took off. “Homeless, I guess,” she added.

  “It’s sad.” Sarah responded. “So many kids are on the street now and I don’t understand it. Families seem to be too busy to take care of them.”

  “Families are falling apart,” Bea responded. “It’s not like it was when we were young. Remember having dinner with the family and going away on family vacations? It’s all different now.”

  They talked about it for a while when suddenly Sarah turned to Bea and said, “We sound like a couple of old folks, lamenting the loss of the good old days. My grandmother used to do this very thing!” They both laughed and decided that the world would probably go on, just in a different way.

  As Sarah walked back to Stitches, her original destination, she thought about the girl in the gazebo and wondered about Caitlyn. No one knew whether she stayed in Hamilton or went on to St. Louis. Was she sleeping in someone’s gazebo? Had she found a way to get food? Had she been discovered by the predators who lived off these girls? These thoughts made her so sad she didn’t feel like looking at fabric anymore. She headed home instead.