Calico Brides Page 14

  “Get a meal at Miss Kate’s, and you pay after you eat the meal,” Birdie shot back. “I know the Bible says if a man doesn’t work, he doesn’t eat.” Her back straightened. She had drawn her line in the sand, and she wouldn’t cross over it.

  Ned could quote half a dozen verses that talked about taking care of widows, orphans, and the poor, but Birdie would argue she didn’t fit into any of those categories. Taking his glasses off the bridge of his nose, he scratched his head with an earpiece. “Tell you what. Do you have enough material and whatnots to make something for a baby? A quilt, a christening gown? My sister…” Heat crept into his face. He was uneasy discussing such an intimate matter. But he kept his voice steady. “She’s in a delicate condition, and I’ve been thinking about what to give her. Anything you make would be a marvelous gift. You could probably fix that up quick, and then you’d have money for additional supplies.” He kept his eyes locked on hers, willing her to agree.

  Birdie returned his stare, her features not betraying her thoughts. She had a good face for poker. At last a rare smile burst out, bathing Ned with the first rays of sunrise. “I have some scraps that would be perfect for a baby quilt. When would you like it?”

  Ned’s niece or nephew wasn’t due for six months, but Birdie didn’t need to know that. “As soon as you can finish.”

  Birdie curled her fingers against her hands one by one, as if she was calculating the hours. “I should be able to finish it by a week from this Saturday.” Her smile faded like the last hint of color on the horizon at the end of the day. “Thank you for your business, Mr. Finnegan.” With a final nod of her head, she left his store.

  Most men would do almost anything to put another one of those smiles on Birdie’s face.

  With God’s help, Ned hoped to be the one who did.

  Chapter 2

  These are all the scraps I have.” Gladys handed a bag of fabric to Birdie. “I had set these aside to show to all of you before you told me about the baby quilt. If you find anything you can use, please take it off my hands. And here are the threads I pulled out from the seams, in case you can use them as well.” She dropped a spool half full of thread into the bag of scraps without waiting for Birdie’s answer.

  Since Birdie and the others shared alike when they had extra bits of sewing materials, she didn’t refuse the offer. The materials in the bag personified the adage her ma had branded on her mind: “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.” But no matter how Ma scrimped, they never had enough. Pa drank money as soon as he got ahold of it.

  Birdie reached for the spool and dropped it into her basket. Sorting through the scraps she had gathered, she decided on a pinwheel pattern in yellows, greens, and lavender. She had enough white fabric to mix with the others without purchasing anything else. “I’ve dealt with some stubborn men in my time, but I’ve never met anyone as bad as Mr. Finnegan. He wasn’t going to let me go until he found a way to give me money.”

  The other women exchanged glances, and Annie laughed out loud. She examined a square Birdie had already finished. “He’s not giving you anything. You’ve put a lot of hours into this quilt already. I couldn’t make anything so fine in a month of Saturdays.” She turned it over and examined the tiny knots on the back. “And to think you did this with leftover thread. You are a gifted seamstress.”

  Birdie’s spirits lifted at the kind words. She had used those skills to repair dresses for the other girls at the Betwixt ’n’ Between. Then there came a time when she didn’t ever want to pick up a needle again. That changed after Mrs. Fairfield talked her into joining the Ladies Sewing Circle and she’d made friends with the women in this room. Ruth described the surprising turn of events as God turning something bad into something good.

  “You’re smiling.” Gladys spoke like someone taking notes for class or a report to her newspaper editor fiancé, Haydn Keller.

  “So spill the news.” As usual, Annie was more straightforward. “You’re smiling like Christmas Day.”

  Birdie cut one of Annie’s scraps of fabric into two squares while she considered her answer. “It’s something Ruth said about God making something good out of something bad.”

  “That comes from Romans,” Ruth said. “ ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ ”

  “Or that verse in Isaiah about beauty for ashes.” Gladys nodded.

  Birdie looked at each woman, seeing the love in their eyes. When she first ran to the parsonage after fleeing the Betwixt ’n’ Between, she half expected the pastor, or his wife, to throw her out. At the time, she was desperate enough to try anything. “I never imagined myself in a place like this, making something for a baby, working among friends.” Tears she bottled up while at the saloon clung to her eyelashes, as they often did these days. “God is so good.”

  Annie laid aside her knitting needles long enough to pat her arm. “Yes He is. Even my Bear has learned that much.”

  Strange how these mission projects had led to love for Gladys and then for Annie. Birdie held no such illusions for her own future. Men wanted purity in a wife, and she had given that up a long time ago. Even Christians had to live with the consequences of earlier bad choices.

  The four of them bent their heads over their sewing and knitting. “Who are you making those for, Annie?” Gladys asked. “Seems like you’ve made enough socks to keep everyone in that fort in socks for a whole week.”

  “Not quite.” Annie laughed. “They get holes in them, or they get lost in the laundry, or a new soldier comes. Jeremiah lets me know, and I don’t mind at all. And what about you? You’re making yourself another wedding quilt and not allowing us to work on it with you.”

  Ruth stitched endless arrays of diapers, sheets, and other items to give to people who came to the church in need of help. Guilt tickled Birdie’s conscience, and Ruth tilted her head. “Now what’s bothering you?” Her gray eyes softened.

  “You’re all working on your mission projects for free. And Ned is going to pay me for this.” Birdie lifted the corner of the quilt.

  Annie and Gladys exchanged a look. At Gladys’s nod, Annie said, “You ask too much of yourself, Birdie. The three of us are blessed to live with our parents. You pay for your lodging—”

  “No I don’t. I help Miss Kate, that’s all.”

  “If you didn’t live there, she would pay you for your help. She pays me when I help out at the diner,” Gladys said.

  That fact was the only reason Birdie accepted the room. She felt better now that she had the laying hens and could offer as many eggs as Miss Kate needed for the diner.

  Ruth said, “You won’t accept help in getting your supplies, so you have to make money somehow to start on the clothes you want to give to your friends.”

  When Birdie sighed this time, peace lifted her heart like a feather on the wind. “I always feel so much better after we get together.”

  “That’s why God tells us not to forget about gathering together. It’s easier to wander away from Him when we’re alone.” Ruth finished stitching the sheet she was working on and turned down the top, starting a floral embroidery along the edge. “How is your mission project going?”

  “So-so.” When they first discussed projects in January, Birdie knew exactly what she wanted to do: help other girls stuck at the Betwixt ’n’ Between. But doing that required so many things she didn’t have yet. A small house they could share together. Proper clothing. Work. Safety. All of that took money. Ever since childhood, money had been the problem. God had provided for all her needs, just as He promised. Was she wrong to want more so that she could help others?

  Ruth worked a leaf pattern on the sheet. “It will all work out in God’s time. But it can be hard to wait.” She pulled her needle and thread through the fabric. “I keep telling myself the same thing, while I wonder when God will show me what He wants me to do.”

  Ruth already did plenty by helping her pare
nts with the church ministries. But she wanted something more personal, a specific person or situation.

  Annie tied off a finished sock and stuck her needles through the remainder of the ball of yarn. “I’m done for the day. I need to leave soon to meet up with the Peates. Before I go, do we have any more prayer requests?”

  Birdie enjoyed this part of their meetings the most, although she was still too shy to pray in front of the others. “We should pray for Mr. Finnegan’s sister, and the baby.”

  “And Jeremiah told me one of the new soldiers is having a hard time adapting. Jeremiah is afraid he might desert.” Annie never gave the names of the soldiers she asked prayer for, and she didn’t this time.

  Gladys slipped her needle into the fabric of the quilt top. “Haydn says the snowstorm damaged a few soddies. We should pray for those families.”

  They had discussed their personal prayer concerns many times. Today they had touched on Mr. Keller’s health (improving), beaus for Ruth and Birdie (in spite of their objections), Ruth’s hopes for the upcoming school year, and salvation and so much more for Birdie’s friends.

  Ruth finished the leaf she was working on and put the sheet away. “I’ll start.” They put away their projects and closed their eyes in prayer.

  Prayer. Birdie had seen too many answers in the short months she had been a Christian to doubt its power. As each woman prayed for Birdie’s friends by name, she could believe good things would happen. God would make something good out of something bad.

  If only her faith remained as solid during the middle of the night.

  Ned prided himself on not revealing his emotions on his face. A successful store owner couldn’t afford to offend potential customers. But Birdie’s question today left him speechless. He recovered quickly. “You want red flannel? To make long johns?”

  “I can make them for less money than they spend buying them from the catalog. Better quality, too.” If Birdie was a store owner like Gerard, she would be rubbing her hands in anticipation of potential sales. “What I want to know is if you’ll carry them in your store.” Her smile indicated she expected an automatic yes answer.

  Of course Birdie had seen men’s undergarments, although Ned had shut his mind to that part of her past. But this venture would drag her back to the past and not the future she planned. Wouldn’t it?

  The light went out in her eyes, and Ned realized he had waited too long with his answer. “Never mind. I’ll make money other ways.” She handed him the day’s basket of eggs. As she had promised, two dozen good-sized eggs each day.

  He gave her forty cents. “This is enough for a couple of lengths of flannel.” His voice sounded strangled to his ears as he lifted the bolt onto the cutting table. The scissors lay in the table drawer, and he busied himself with sharpening the blades while he waited for her instructions. After he marshaled his features into agreement, he lifted his face. “You’re right, they would sell well.”

  When she didn’t object, he nipped the edge of the material and cut in a straight line. “Do you need thread?”

  Birdie shook her head and asked, “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

  Her eyes told him she wanted a serious answer. He took his time slipping the scissors back into the drawer. When he looked at her again, the folded fabric lay between them like an exhibit ready to convict her in court. “I believe it’s fine as long as no one knows who’s making them. I haven’t told anyone who’s making the ready-made dresses, but I don’t know if it’s a secret. Some people might add four and four and make ten.”

  Ned’s spirits flagged as Birdie’s shoulders slumped, hunched over as if in defeat. She wouldn’t look at him. The moment stretched like taffy, until Ned feared the fragile bond of trust between them would stretch too far and break. What do I say, Lord?

  “Wait.”

  Ned put together the additional supplies Birdie needed for the long johns, offering his support in spite of his reservations. Once finished, he set the materials on the counter between them and waited. One moment she was slumped over, staring at the floor. In an instant, she changed. Straightening her back so that her shoulders made a proud line, she lifted her chin and looked him face on. “Pastor Fairfield and his missus tell me that I have to avoid even the appearance of evil, because people will assume the worst. They also warned me that I might be tempted to return to my old ways. Tell me, Mr. Finnegan, is making long underwear for soldiers the kind of behavior they meant?”

  His mouth suddenly dry, Ned could only nod. Popping a lemon drop into his mouth, he worked up enough saliva to speak. In the few seconds that took, he could see the tremble in Birdie’s shoulders as she maintained her composure, trying to appear as if his answer didn’t matter one way or the other.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Landry. But it seems that way to me.” Ned had to find some way to ease the defeat he’d read in her earlier posture. The smile that he had practiced on grouchy customers came in handy. “Annie Bliss is part of your sewing circle, right?”

  Birdie nodded.

  “She’s made connections with the commander’s wife at the fort. Together they might come up with a way to keep your role anonymous. Maybe she could even pretend she’s the one making the underwear.”

  The starch left Birdie, and her nod wasn’t forced. “I’ll do that. I’ll also ask Mrs. Fairfield for her suggestions.” Her face returned to its usual placid expression, and she turned to exit the door.

  “Don’t you want the fabric?” Ned called to her departing back.

  In the doorway, she turned. “I will once I have my answer.”

  That woman had enough pride and determination to build Rome in a day. Spunk, people would call that quality in someone else. She had used it to survive her past, and it gave her the courage to start over again now.

  She was everything Ned was not, and he liked her all the more for it.

  Chapter 3

  Thank you for agreeing to meet with me in town.” In spite of wearing her most modest dress, a deep blue that buttoned up the neck and at her wrists, the hem only far enough off the floor to avoid dragging in the dirt, Birdie felt stripped as Mrs. Peate fixed steady eyes on her.

  “I am honored that you would ask me to help with another one of your missions. God has done some amazing things through our friend Annie.” She nodded across the table where Annie and Gladys were seated. Mrs. Fairfield had joined them this morning as well.

  “Here is some fresh coffee.” Miss Kate bustled out of the diner kitchen.

  Finding a place to meet had proved problematical. They all agreed from the beginning that the meeting should not take place at the fort. Annie had said, “They figured out I was making their mittens, hats, and scarves because they saw me at the fort. That, and the fact I was spending so much time with Jeremiah.” A small giggle testified to her present happiness.

  If they met at Miss Kate’s boardinghouse, another resident might see Mrs. Peate there and make the very connection they wanted to avoid. Miss Kate had suggested an alternative: they could meet at the diner an hour before opening. If someone happened to see them sitting quietly in the corner, they would assume the women were Gladys’s or Miss Kate’s guests.

  Birdie’s stomach twisted like a pretzel as she wondered whether the business opportunity she had conceived was of the Lord or of the devil.

  Once all five ladies had settled at the table, sipping coffee and eating hot biscuits, they turned their eyes on Birdie. She spooned sugar into her coffee and stirred it, stalling for time. Ever since Ned questioned the wisdom of her enterprise, she had suffered a torrential rain of doubt.

  Miss Kate appeared at the door again. “Just go ahead and tell them, dearie.”

  “That’s my Aunt Kate,” Gladys grimaced. “She loves getting into our business. All with the kindest of motives, of course. She practically forced Haydn on me.”

  “And look how that turned out.” Annie grinned. “So unfortunate that you discovered the man God wants you to marry.”

  Birdi
e decided to speak before they got sidetracked with matrimonial pursuits. “That doesn’t matter, since there is no man involved in this matter.” Her thoughts ran guiltily to Ned, his kindness and the way he championed her to the community. “At least, there is no man in particular.”

  “Stop speaking in puzzles.” Mrs. Fairfield took her first sip of coffee. “My dear Mr. Fairfield always tells me to begin at the beginning.”

  Birdie could do that. “Ever since I became a Christian, I’ve dreamed of helping other girls get away from that place. When I was invited to join the sewing circle, I believed God had given me a sign. One of the first things the women need is modest clothing.”

  “What a lovely thought.” Mrs. Peate nodded approvingly. “The captain often says a man feels the most like a soldier when he’s wearing his dress uniform. Changing the look of the outside helps to change how you feel on the inside, even though the Lord values what’s inside a man.”

  Bacon sizzled in the kitchen, and Birdie’s stomach growled. She placed a light hand on her midsection as if that would stop the sound.

  Miss Kate brought a tray with steaming bowls of oatmeal. “I’ll have bacon and eggs for you in a minute.”

  “We didn’t intend to make you work.” Birdie’s stomach didn’t agree.

  “Nonsense. Since it’s already cooked, go ahead and eat.”

  Mrs. Peate ate a few bites of oatmeal. “That woman is a genius with food.” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I love your idea, but I don’t understand how the men of the fort are involved.”

  Now came the hard part. Birdie didn’t want to complain, but… “I’ve made money sewing since I became a Christian. God has provided for all my needs, but it takes everything I make to pay for my living expenses and supplies. Recently Miss Kate agreed to let me keep laying hens to make money a little faster.”

  Mrs. Peate ate a few more mouthfuls before Birdie started up again.