THE FIRST MORNING OF HER RETIREMENT, ANABELLE woke at her usual hour. Wrapped in her velour bathrobe, she went downstairs to let Sarge out.
It was still dark outside, so she flipped on the exterior light. Sarge raced down the steps and into the yard, his tail wagging. He dashed from one winter-dried flowerbed to another in search of telltale signs that his domain had been invaded overnight.
The lawn was brown, the trees lifeless, the yard waiting silently for the arrival of spring and Cam’s careful cultivation of his garden. In spring, splashes of color would be everywhere: daffodils and tulips, pansies and alyssum edging the borders, shrubs bursting with blooms.
Gooseflesh rose on her arms. “Come on, Sarge. Let’s not dawdle. It’s cold out here.”
He came bounding back to her, still very much a puppy despite the way he’d grown into his big feet in the past two years.
“That’s a good boy.” She let him back inside and filled his dish with fresh kibbles, which he attacked with the same enthusiasm as he had demonstrated to explore the backyard for new scents.
In the kitchen, she poured herself a cup of coffee that had been automatically brewed and sat down at the kitchen table. Over the years, she’d never been able to linger over her morning coffee on a workday.
This, however, was not a workday.
Nor would tomorrow be a workday.
She frowned and idly watched the steam rise from her cup. Later, when the day had warmed a little, she’d take Sarge for a walk.
After a while, she heard Cam’s slippered footsteps in the hallway. He placed the newspaper he’d retrieved from the driveway on the table.
“Good morning, lass. I thought you might sleep late this morning.” He bent to kiss her.
“I couldn’t. My eyes popped open as if the alarm had gone off.”
He poured himself a cup of coffee and joined her at the table. “You’ll get over that.”
“Seems a waste to wake up so early when I don’t have to go to work.”
He flipped open the paper, took a sip of coffee and started to read the front page. “You want some of this paper?”
“I suppose.” Except on Sundays, she rarely had time to read the paper.
He handed her the Community section. Putting on her reading glasses, she skimmed the headline about the school board reducing the number of counselors and another article about the school science fair.
Not that she didn’t care about the local schools. But her children were grown. Kirstie off in Chicago. She had trouble getting worked up over counselors or the science fair.
Putting the paper aside, she sighed and looked over the top of her glasses. “What am I going to do with my time?”
“You’ll find something.” Cam continued reading the news.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have retired.”
He eyed her across the table. “This is only your first day. You’ll get the hang of it.”
Maybe. She did have her quilting. With Ainslee expecting again and Candace with two on the way, she could start on those projects.
Perhaps in the spring she could take a position on the Deerford Quilting Guild board. They always needed volunteers. She’d have time now to get more involved with the organization.
“Would you like me to fix you some eggs and toast?” she asked Cam.
“No need. I’ll get myself a bowl of cereal in a minute. I have to be at the nursery about eight to talk with Evan.”
“How is it going for Evan and Maureen? Does she wear her ring?”
Cam folded the paper and set it aside. “I don’t know about the ring. But Evan said she wouldn’t be wearing it to work. I think he eats at her house a couple of times a week. It’s hard for them both to take time off together.”
“I think we should invite Evan, Maureen, and the children over to dinner. We haven’t seen them since Evan made the engagement official. In fact, maybe we should throw an engagement party for them.”
“Easy, luv. Before you get too carried away, why don’t you talk with Evan? See what he and Maureen would like.”
“Well, of course, I’d do that first.” With a huff of indignation, she went about fixing her own breakfast. Something special for her first day as a retiree. Eggs Benedict wouldn’t take long to prepare.
Then she’d dress and take Sarge for a nice long walk. When she returned home, she’d call Ainslee and see if she wanted to go with her to Peoria to the yardage store. Ainslee, Lindsay Belle, and Anabelle could make a day of it.
Yes, that’s exactly how she’d spend her first day of retirement.
On the way to work, Candace said, “I don’t see how I’ll be able to work after the twins are born.”
Heath turned onto Main Street. At this early hour, traffic was light, only the gas station at the edge of town open.
“There’ll be no reason for you to work. My salary will carry us,” he said.
“Maybe for now, but when the children are older our expenses will go up. Brooke will be in high school next fall. There will be all sorts of extras to buy. She’ll want to go to school dances—”
“No daughter of mine is going to a dance with a boy until she’s twenty-nine years old!”
Candace burst into laughter. “Oh yes, I’m sure you’ll be able to enforce that rule.”
He shrugged easily and his grin kicked up. “Well, I can try.”
To Candace’s delight, Brooke and Howie had been thrilled at the prospect of having twin siblings, one for each of them to spoil. Still, the reality might not be as much fun as they anticipated once the babies were here with their constant need for attention.
“With Brooke and Howie, I worked almost until my due date. I don’t think I’ll be able to do that with the twins. Premature births are too common with multiples to take that risk.”
“I’m not seeing a problem, Candace.” He pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Although we won’t be able to save much, my salary will cover all of our expenses for now. Maybe, when the twins are older, and only if you want to, you could go back to nursing full-time.”
Is that what she wanted? At this point, she had trouble seeing clearly into the future. But with Heath’s help—and the Lord’s—surely everything would work out.
If only her hormones would calm down, that might help her to think straight.
Ainslee couldn’t go fabric shopping with Anabelle. Lindsay Belle had a runny nose, and Ainslee didn’t want to take her out of the house.
Disheartened, Anabelle drove to Peoria by herself, an hour-and-a-half trip. The huge store provided great discounts on the best names in fabric. Anabelle loved simply browsing through the rows of shelves holding bolt after bolt of fabric.
Once inside the store, which wasn’t busy on a weekday, she made her way directly to the display of quilting fabrics. She passed up fabrics patterned with teddy bears or bright spring flowers. Ainslee preferred urban chic over the more traditional styles that were Anabelle’s favorites.
Soothing elevator music played over the loudspeaker, which suited Anabelle’s mood.
As she browsed for fabrics in sage, light gray, and lavender, which Ainslee had suggested as color choices, Anabelle came across a bolt with little toy soldiers and rocking horses on a red background. Perfect for the backing of a child’s quilt, although not for Ainslee’s baby. And it was on sale!
Unable to resist, Anabelle dropped the bolt into her shopping cart. The Deerford Quilting Guild made quilts for the needy, including abused and homeless children. Making the toy soldier fabric into something a child would want to cuddle would be an act of love on Anabelle’s part.
On the far side of the sale table, she found bolts of red, white, and blue that matched the toy soldiers perfectly. Into the cart those bolts went as well.
It used to be that she, Ainslee, and Kirstie would shop together, usually making a day of it, laughing for silly reasons almost more than spending time selecting fabrics.
But no more. Not with Kirstie in Chicago and Ainslee with her family responsibilities.
She should have called her friend Genna Hamilton and asked her to come shopping with her.
“Hello, Anabelle,” a voice behind her said. “I didn’t expect to see you here on a weekday.”
Recognizing Terri Martin, the store manager’s voice, Anabelle turned and smiled. Typical of someone selling yardage, Terri had measuring tape dangling around her neck like a narrow, free-form scarf. Somewhere in her forties, she had a great eye for color and knew virtually everything about sewing and quilting.
“I’m living the life of luxury now,” Anabelle said. “This is my first day of retirement.”
“Well, congratulations! I’m glad you decided to spend your day with us. Anything I can help you with?”
“Now that you mention it, the fabric in my cart distracted me. I’m going to make it into a quilt for homeless children. But I actually came here because my daughter is expecting their second this coming summer. I want to make something for the baby.”
“Wonderful. Did you have anything special in mind?”
“My daughter suggested sage, light gray, and lavender.”
“Ah, she’s doing urban chic. Very popular with young women these days.” Terri glanced around. “Over here, I think.” At a quick pace, Terri made her way around various display tables, stopping at a wall of fabrics. “Here you go. All of these subdued colors and prints go well with urban chic.”
“Yes, these look exactly like what my daughter had in mind.”
“Fine. You browse for a bit. If you need any more help, give me a shout.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Terri hurried off to help a customer on the opposite side of the store.
Holding one bolt of fabric up against another, Anabelle worked her way down the aisle. She finally decided on a sage-green fabric with a darker green fern print that was set in the center of a square. She matched that fabric with a soft lavender with raised cross-stitching. She’d outline the design with strips of light gray and use a gray-on-gray damask print for the backing. All of the colors subdued like Ainslee preferred.
Satisfied with her selections, she picked up some cotton batting and made her way to the checkout counter with a full cart. Later she’d call Candace to find out what she’d prefer for her twins and return to Peoria in the next week or two.
Perhaps she’d find a day when Ainslee could come with her.
A first-time mother in labor arrived in the Birthing Unit a little after lunchtime. Candace quickly went into the room to see her new patient settled. The room, painted in relaxing shades of beige and rose, included a couch for the dad-to-be to rest on as well as the bed where the mother would labor.
To Candace’s delight, she was met first by Bea Crofton, a longtime doula in the Deerford area. A woman well past sixty, she spent time with a pregnant woman, teaching and reassuring her about pregnancy, answering questions, and helping after the birth of the baby. Her role was a supportive one, unlike a midwife who actually delivered babies.
“Hi, Bea, good to see you.” Candace had learned to trust Bea. As a doula, she never interfered with the medical side of childbirth. Instead she kept both mother and father calm during the process. “Who have you brought me today?”
A former farmer’s wife, Bea’s wrinkled face shifted into a bright smile. “My two favorite people. Arlene Emenaker, our mother-to-be, and her husband, Mike.”
Candace turned to Arlene, who was sitting on the edge of the bed while her husband held her hand. She introduced herself to the young couple.
“So you’ve been working with Bea?” Candace asked.
“My mother lives in Florida. She’s going to come after the baby’s here.” She glanced at Bea. “I wanted someone with me who knew what she was doing.”
“You picked a good doula. Bea knows more about having babies than practically anyone else in town.”
Arlene grimaced and a groan escaped.
“How far apart are your contractions?” Candace asked.
“I’ve been timing them,” Mike volunteered. “That one was four minutes. They were coming about five minutes apart until that one.”
“Okay.” Candace handed the young woman a gown. “Sounds like everything is moving along nicely. You put on that gown, relax a little, and I’ll come back to examine you.”
Never letting go of each other’s hands, the couple nodded in unison, and Candace smiled. There was nothing she liked better than seeing a couple in love who were about to become parents.
She slipped out the door and Bea followed her.
“Those two are real sweethearts,” Bea said. “A pleasure to work with.”
“They look very much in love.”
“They are, which isn’t true with all of my clients.”
Candace raised her brows.
“I don’t mean to complain. I’m just getting old and cranky, I guess. I don’t know how many more years I’m going to keep this up.”
Candace retrieved some supplies from the storeroom. “Are you planning to retire?”
“Not for a year or two. I’m thinking about moving in with my sister. Living alone on the farm like I’ve been doing since my husband passed gets lonely.”
“I imagine. Where does your sister live?”
“In Springfield. It’s a nice town, good restaurants.”
Candace hadn’t wanted to mention that Bea had put on some weight lately, perhaps the result of too many trips to Springfield.
Returning to the birthing room with Bea, Candace began prepping her patient and determined how far the young woman was dilated. Meanwhile, Bea spoke quietly with the couple, reminding them how to breathe during the contractions.
While a doula didn’t actually deliver babies, the close personal connection with the expectant mother and her partner had its own rewards.
That was something Candace could think about for the future.