Tuesday. The dreaded day had come.
Even as she dressed for breakfast, Diana still debated whether to go to the sewing circle. Conflicting thoughts warred in her mind. The other town girls shared the memories and experiences of a lifetime in Hickory Corners. She did not know how to relate to them. Surely they would believe she was trying to elbow her way into that close-knit group.
“All ready for your special day?” Millie asked with a cheery smile when Diana entered the kitchen. The housekeeper dished up a generous serving of scrambled eggs and feather-light biscuits and brought them to the table.
Diana forced a smile. “I … thought perhaps you might need me here at home. To … help with …,” she fluttered a hand, trying to think of a word, “something.”
Millie tucked her chin, a baffled expression scrunching her features. “Nonsense. I haven’t a thing pressing, and even if I did, what couldn’t wait a few hours? Now that you’re home to stay, you need to spend time with the other girls again. Rekindle those friendships.”
Diana heaved a sigh. Millie had no idea, no idea at all. Only one thing would make her understand. Honesty. “But that’s just it, Millie,” she confessed at last. “They’re not my friends. They’ve never been.” Maddening tears came dangerously near the surface, their presence stinging the back of Diana’s eyes, causing moisture she couldn’t quite suppress. She swallowed hard. “If my own mother and father don’t consider me worth being around, why should anyone else?”
The older woman’s mouth fell open with a gasp. She dropped the dish towel she’d been using and flew to Diana’s side, wrapping comforting arms around her. “Don’t think such things. I have a hard time myself, understanding your parents’ actions, but I know they love you. They truly do. Your brother’s sudden death hit them real hard, and the only way they could get through that sorrow was to throw themselves into that shipping business. Things were just coming together for them when you came along. It just wasn’t the best time for them to let up.”
“What about now?” Diana asked miserably. “Everyone knows Montclair Shipping Line is one of the biggest enterprises on the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. When will there be enough success and enough money for them to make room for me?”
“I don’t know that,” the housekeeper crooned. “Only the Good Lord can see into the future. But I pray every day that He’ll open their eyes to see the treasure they have right here.” She hugged harder.
Diana didn’t know if she should set any hopes on that or not. Even if her parents did decide to come here and make a life with her, the house would be filled with inhabitants who barely knew one another.
“In the meantime,” Millie went on, straightening and returning to her chore, “there are people in town who’ll accept you, if you’ll only let them. You have to remember, though, in order to make friends, you must be a friend.”
Be a friend.
A simple concept, yet profound. Diana pondered it throughout the remainder of the morning and during dinner.
Afterward, with the housekeeper’s admonishment still ringing in her ears, Diana couldn’t help but take her time walking the short distance to the minister’s home. What sort of reception would she have? Did the others truly want her to come, or had the invitation at church merely been a pretense, a polite gesture one might make to any regular visitor in town?
Happy chatter wafted out of the parsonage’s open window, along with the hem of a lacy curtain fluttering on the breeze. Her reservations intensified. Gazing idly at her feet, she did notice the new steps sported a coat of paint since her and Millie’s visit, a gray reminiscent of the decks on her father’s steamships. Grasping the skirt of her pale-green lawn gown in her hands, she drew a strengthening breath, approached the door, and rapped.
“Oh, Diana,” Mrs. Tidewell said, her gracious smile more than welcoming. “Come in, my dear.” Disposing of Diana’s shawl and bonnet, she ushered her inside to the comfortable sitting room, where the other girls from town were positioned around a quilt frame. The older woman raised her voice slightly. “Everyone, our little group is complete once again.”
Elsa, Betsy, and Samantha, looking fresh in crisp muslin and calico dresses, paused in their stitching and glanced up, their smiles pleasant, their demeanors expectant.
“What did you bring to work on?” Mrs. T asked, guiding Diana to the padded rocker in the corner which she’d always preferred.
“Nothing, really.” Venturing a step into the unknown, Diana cast caution to the wind. “I … was wondering if I might learn to stitch on the quilt, if it isn’t too much trouble to teach me. I must confess, sewing has always been my weakness. I’ve only ever done well with embroidery.” She held her breath, expecting a rebuff.
“Sure, we’d love to have you.” Elsa scooted her chair to one side, making room between her and Betsy.
Diana, greatly relieved, pulled up a seat for herself, while across from her, Betsy’s cousin Samantha offered a tentative smile. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all, Diana decided.
The pastor’s wife brought a quilting needle, a thimble, and a spool of thread to her from the sideboard. “Let me show you how to get started.”
She threaded the eye expertly and sat down, one hand above the quilt, the other below while she rocked the needle, collecting a series of ten stitches on that minuscule length. Watching her, Diana immediately lost heart. Her best efforts at sewing had been miserable failures. How could this one be any different?
Mrs. Tidewell’s conspiratorial smile put her at ease. “That’s how you’ll quilt once you’ve had some practice. But for now, merely poking the needle straight down, like this, then up again from below, will do nicely. Down, up. Down, up. Here, you try.” Mrs. Tidewell relinquished the chair and handed her the needle and thimble.
Diana drew an uneasy breath, took the seat, and set to work, not even daring to imagine attempting two stitches in a row on the needle, even with these lightweight layers of fabric. She gave all her concentration to laboring over the simpler method.
“You should have seen me trying to master this process,” Elsa said kindly, an understanding sparkle in her blue eyes as she worked on her section. “Poor Mrs. T must have sat for hours after we’d all gone home, ripping out every pathetic stitch I’d done and redoing them.”
An astonished gasp issued from the little woman. “I did no such thing.” Coming to peek over Diana’s shoulder, she perused the crooked stitches and nodded her encouragement. “On the contrary, I shall always treasure those first sweet projects completed by my fledgling seamstresses. One of my greatest joys has been witnessing your progress over the years. None of us is born with any ready-made skills. We learn things by practice. Including quilting.”
Somewhat more optimistic, but still feeling all thumbs, Diana jabbed the needle into the bright material. She stopped now and then to give a critical eye to her work while the other girls chattered in the easy way she’d always envied, sharing special memories of events unknown to her. Perhaps it was her own fault she had virtually no pleasant memories of classmates from her school years.
Diana contemplated the unique design of the quilt, each block of which held four hearts in different patterns, but complementing colors, with the points meeting at the center. To her, the theme seemed symbolic of the sewing circle … at least how it might have been, had she not lived away from town. Four girls, growing up together, forever friends.
Yet, part of her still felt like an intruder. Perhaps always would.
Just then, the grandfather clock across the room chimed the hour, and then Elsa yawned and stretched, a sheepish grin widening her rosy cheeks.
“Sounds like somebody had another long night with baby Georg,” Betsy said. “I’m learning what to expect when my own little one makes his entrance into the world.” She patted her blossoming tummy and blushed becomingly.
Elsa ceased stitching momentarily. “After being wakeful much of the night, I expect he’ll sleep the afternoon away. Of course, that should make it easier for Shane to look after him. Now that our little angel is toddling around, he finds some rather interesting things to get into when our backs are turned.”
Diana’s curiosity got the best of her. “He wakes you up in the night?”
Elsa nodded. “He must be cutting new teeth again.”
“I should think that’s why people hire nannies,” Diana blurted without thinking. “How can one function during the daytime if deprived of sleep?”
A peculiar look passed between the others.
“I really don’t mind tending to Georg,” Elsa said, her tone gentle. “I consider the responsibility a joy and a blessing. He’s growing so quickly, he’ll soon be out of this stage. Then I’ll get more sleep.”
Mrs. Tidewell took advantage of the awkward moment to cross the room for her Bible. “I believe we’ll read the Twenty-third Psalm today, pertaining to the way our Lord looks after His own.”
Listening to her soothing voice while continuing to sew, Diana paid close attention to the words being read. On Sunday, the Reverend suggested that God’s children were salt. Now it seemed they were also considered sheep. How very strange, those two mental images.
After the Scripture reading, the girls took a break for refreshments, serving themselves from the sideboard, where the minister’s wife had just poured cups of tea.
“These gingersnaps,” Samantha said dreamily, munching a cookie, “are truly delicious, Betsy.”
“Thank you. Ty especially likes them, so I bake them pretty often. Of course, with little brothers and a sister popping over to gobble every batch warm from the oven, I have to hide some, or he’d never get any.”
“It’s much the same at the hotel,” Elsa confessed, “trying to keep up with boarders and guests.”
Diana almost injected something about the benefits of having Millie around, but caught herself just in time. It seemed difficult to relate to people who did things for themselves, when she’d been waited on practically her whole life. In reality, however, the very fact the other girls were so self-reliant only made her envy them all the more.
“Would you care for more tea, Dear?” Mrs. Tidewell asked, making the rounds with the china pot.
Diana peered into her cup, amazed to see the bottom. She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts, she couldn’t recall drinking a drop. “Yes, please.”
“Are you glad to be home for good now?” Elsa asked, coming to sit beside her on the settee.
In all Diana’s years, she could remember no one ever asking her opinion on anything, only an endless string of go here, do this, do that, to which she’d submitted with no other recourse. Now, however, she dared another step into this strange new life. “I’m … trying to adjust. Everything’s so different.”
“I would imagine. I’ve often wondered how it must have been for you, going far away to the big city, living in boarding schools, taking excursions to see wonderful sights, traveling all that way home again. You must miss those benefits.”
“I did enjoy sailing on the steamships,” Diana confessed, some favorite memories surfacing. “Watching the lovely countryside passing by.”
“Mind if we listen in?” Betsy asked. “I haven’t traveled anywhere.” She and Samantha, obviously having overheard at least part of the conversation, drew up chairs and perched on them.
Having an audience who actually appeared interested in what she might say gave Diana a heady feeling she’d never before experienced. She felt some of her guard melting away as a yearning for the other girls to like her came to the fore. Was this what it was like to make friends? She looked from one face to the next, their sincere interest enabling her to relax and smile. “The schools I attended were quite lovely, with sprawling grounds one could stroll across between class hours. I most enjoyed visiting museums and going to the symphony.”
“I’ll probably never see anything beyond Hickory Corners,” Elsa mused, “though my family did travel some when I was a youngster. Shane has been all over, of course. He tells me lots of stories.”
Mrs. Tidewell, restoring order to the sideboard, smiled their way. “Perhaps we could continue sharing our recollections as we get back to work.”
“Yes, Mrs. T,” they singsonged.
Scarcely had they settled back into their places, when lively footsteps sounded from outside. The door opened, admitting Brady, unrolling the sleeves of his blue homespun shirt while he craned his neck in the direction of the baked treats. “Any good stuff left?” His unabashed grin made the rounds.
At least, Diana surmised, it included more than just her. She’d looked down so quickly, she could only guess. She had quite enough to focus on, remembering how the stitches were supposed to go.
“Oh, pshaw,” his aunt said. “As if we’d let a grown man starve. I’ve a plate already fixed for you out in the kitchen. Then if you’re still hankering for sweets, you can help yourself to the cookies.”
His not-so-quiet steps clumped across the plank floorboards, diminishing only a little as he disappeared into the other room.
“So what’s it like, going to an actual symphony?” Samantha asked Diana, her eyes aglow as she held her needle poised to sew. “To be in some huge hall, with music filling all the nooks and crannies. I should think that would be heaven.”
“Much better than having only a string quartet providing the entertainment,” Diana said with a smile. “Although, they, too, can be quite … entrancing.”
“I hope to go to a grand music hall one day,” Samantha said. “We don’t have much entertainment here in town.”
“What’s this about entertainment?” Brady echoed, carrying his dinner in one hand on his return. He plopped down onto a side chair next to the wall. One with a direct line of vision to Diana as he ate. “You saying you don’t like Nate’s fiddlin’ at socials?”
“We like it fine,” Betsy said. “But I’m sure we’d also enjoy some more refined music now and then.”
“Refined. Ah, yes. You’re hearing about the advantages of city life, as opposed to the more lowly lifestyle of country bumpkins.” A smirk took up residence on his face as his gaze slid to Diana.
Diana felt her cheeks burning. “I merely answered their questions,” she said in her own defense, miffed that he’d butted in.
“I reckon. But quiet towns have some benefits of their own. I wouldn’t discount country life altogether.”
“I wasn’t doing that.” Aware of her mounting emotions, Diana clamped her lips together, lest she really speak her mind. Here she’d been, on the verge of relating to the young women who’d been practically strangers to her over the years, and he had to come in and ruin everything. “Oh, would you look at the time,” she said in a rush. “I really must be going.” Knotting her thread, she clipped it off and rose. “Splendid visiting with you all,” she told the others, then smiled at her hostess. “Thank you for the refreshments and the sewing lesson. I had a lovely time.” She marched right past Brady Forbes without so much as a glance, her clipped steps beating a staccato tempo on her way to the door.
“Actually,” Elsa remarked, “I need to get back to the hotel myself. We’re expecting a ship around the supper hour.” Dropping her sewing supplies in Mrs. T’s basket, she snatched up her belongings and followed after Diana.
Outside, Elsa placed a hand on Diana’s forearm. “Thank you for coming to the circle this week. Don’t mind Brady, though. He’s far from being the town rake. He’s really quite the wit and takes singular pleasure in teasing us all, as you’ll discover week by week. Please don’t let him get to you.”
“What makes you think he gets to me?” Diana asked through gritted teeth.
The dark-haired girl merely smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. Intuition, perhaps.”
Despite herself, Diana calmed a little. But reliving the humiliation she’d suffered last summer thanks to the Tidewells’ nephew, it was pointless to correct the new mom. “Thank you, Elsa.”
“For what?”
“For helping me to feel less a stranger today. I appreciate it.”
“You’re most welcome. The other girls and I, well, we’ve always wondered what you were really like. Now you’re home to stay, we’ll finally have a chance to get to know you. So you’ll keep coming every week then?”
“I’ll try. I really will.”
“Good. I’m glad. See you at church on Sunday.” Swiveling on her heel, she crossed Birch Street, heading for the hotel.
Diana watched after her, amazed at how truly friendly Elsa Gerhard seemed now that she was married. Samantha and Betsy had made an effort to make her feel at ease today, too. If those girls were willing to accept her presence in Hickory Corners, perhaps it was time she accepted her fate and did the same.
At least some of her new life would be easier to endure. With a scathing glance over her shoulder at the parsonage, Diana headed for the nearby sanctity of her parents’ big house.
Where that man would appear soon enough, to fix the roof.