Broken Things to Mend

by Karey White

Celia ate until she was almost sick. She wanted to store up as much food as she could since she didn’t know when she’d have another good meal.

  “I thought I’d walk over to The Stitchin’ Station after we eat. Would you like to join me?” Pearl asked between bites.

  “That’s okay. I can stay here.”

  “I’d really enjoy your company, and it would do you good to get out and breathe some fresh air. Say you’ll come with me.”

  Celia nodded.

  “You were a hungry girl,” Jenny said when she picked up Celia’s empty plate.

  “Thank you. It was very good.”

  “We’re going over to The Stitchin’ Station, Jenny. Would you like to join us?”

  “Would I ever. Unfortunately, I have guests who will be showing up in the next couple of hours, and I need to be here to check them in.”

  “Do you need the room I’m staying in?” Celia asked. She hoped she could stay one more night but knew better than to expect it.

  “No, you’re fine. Pearl has asked if you can stay there until she leaves and that’s fine by me.”

  Celia wondered when Pearl would be leaving but didn’t dare ask.

  “Come along, Celia. Let’s go look at some quilts.”

  Main Street was busier than it had been the evening before. Cars and trucks drove down the narrow street in an almost steady line. A few people chatted on the sidewalk in front of BJ’s Ice Cream, enjoying the mild weather. The Stitchin’ Station sat on the corner, about four blocks from the bed and breakfast. The four windows at the front of the store each featured a flower painted by a student in town, their name and grade signed below it. Celia’s favorite, the pink daisy, was signed “Cammie B, 3rd grade.” A bell above the door rang as they entered.

  Celia had never been in such a place before. Bright, colorful quilts lined the walls. Some were random patchwork, some were intricately appliqued and others looked more like artwork, depicting wildflowers or rivers. She stopped in front of one that looked almost like a painting. Three snowcapped mountains stood behind a field of wildflowers.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a woman said and Celia nodded. “If you go outside and walk across the street, you can see these three mountains in the distance. They’re called The Three Sisters.”

  “Like the town,” Celia said.

  “Yes. The town was named after them. They’re like three sisters watching over us. We call them Faith, Hope, and Charity. You’ll have to take a look at them when you leave. Beneva Clyde made this quilt. She’s won several awards at the Sisters Quilt Festival. This is one of her best, I think.”

  “Ah, you’ve met,” Pearl said, stepping up beside Celia and the woman.

  Celia looked more closely at the gray-haired woman who had been talking to her. She had a pleasant face.

  “Not really,” the woman said. “I’ve been telling her a little about this quilt.”

  “Then I should introduce you. Celia, this is Nancy. She’s the one who picked up your bag at the bus stop yesterday. She’s Silas’s aunt.”

  “Thank you,” Celia said. “For getting my bag.”

  “Of course. It was no problem.” Celia liked Nancy’s voice. It was warm and friendly.

  “Nancy works here a few days a week.”

  “I should have retired years ago, but I like the perks. I get a discount on fabric, and I get first shot at all the new patterns. And best of all, I get to help with the Sisters Quilt Show. It’s my favorite week of the year.”

  “Can you look around for a few minutes, Celia? Nancy and I have some catching up to do.”

  Celia didn’t notice the confused look on Nancy’s face.

  The store felt more like an art museum to Celia. So many patterns and colors. Her hand bumped along the bolts of fabric and stopped to feel the thick skeins of yarn. There were three round racks of greeting cards, but these weren’t the kind of cards Celia had seen in grocery stores. These were beautiful, quirky pictures with unpronounceable foreign names on the backs. Celia wandered through a section of art supplies and wondered what it would be like to be talented and artistic.

  And then she stopped and looked across the room. How could she have missed the starburst quilt block hanging above the bolts of yellow material? The center was a school bus gold and each ray that extended from the center was a different yellow pattern. Celia smiled as she walked across the store and examined it more closely. At the end of the aisle was a basket that held the starburst pattern.

  The only thing Celia had ever sewn was a pillowcase in school. It had been an ugly thing because Gina, her foster mother at the time, had refused to go spend good money on fabric for something that probably wouldn’t turn out anyway. The morning that she was supposed to take fabric to school, Gina had brought out a dingy crib sheet that had been in storage for years. The fabric was rough and was covered with red and blue racecars. “You must be making your pillowcase for your brother,” her teacher said when she walked by to check Celia’s work. Celia had turned her back so the teacher wouldn’t see her tears. She had no brother. She had no one.

  “Isn’t that a lovely one,” Pearl said. “Your favorite color, too.”

  “We made that in quilt class a few months ago,” Nancy said. “I think I’ve got a kit already put together in the back room if you’re interested. Let me go look.”

  Nancy left and Pearl studied the instructions. A couple of minutes later, Nancy returned. “You’re in luck. I have one more kit. The pieces are already cut and ready to assemble. All you need is that pattern to show you how to lay them out.”

  Celia had already looked at the price tag. It would take all her money to buy it. She wouldn’t have any left for the cute stack of fabric tied with a white bow that Nancy held out to her.

  “I can’t. Thank you though.”

  “I’m sure you can do it. It’s really easy to put together. The pattern has great instructions.”

  “It’s not that. I don’t have a sewing machine.”

  “You can hand sew them. A sewing machine is faster, but we’ve got a few purists who do all their work by hand. I can get you a needle and thread, too.”

  “Thank you, but... I don’t have enough money.”

  “Oh, of course.” Nancy looked uncomfortable and Celia felt miserable.

  “I’ll bet Nancy can put it in the back room so no one else takes it, if you want to get it another time, dear,” Pearl said. “If you like it, that is. Maybe we’re encouraging you to buy it and you don’t even like it.”

  “I love it.” Celia said softly.

  The women were quiet for a moment before Nancy’s cheerful voice broke the silence. “Well, I have a better idea than hiding it back in the storage room. If you aren’t busy, you could stay and help me put together kits for Monday’s quilting class. We’re making Amish Star blocks and each one has forty-one pieces of fabric. I’ll be here all night if I don’t have help. What do you say? Help me put together the kits and that pattern and fabric is yours.”

  Celia looked at Pearl.

  “You don’t need my permission, but I think it’s a great idea.”

  Celia looked at the sunburst quilt block and her answer was easy. “Thank you. I’d be happy to help you.”

  “I’ve got a couple of letters to write,” Pearl said, “so I’ll see you back at Home Sweet Home when you’re finished.”

  Celia followed Nancy into a large workroom set up with long tables for cutting and three rows of five sewing machines. “This is where we hold our classes. We limit each class to thirty people so we only have two people sharing a sewing machine. Otherwise they’d be here all night. Have you ever quilted before?”

  Celia shook her head. “No, I’ve barely even sewn anything.”

  “You’ll like making that sunburst. It’s a pretty one and not nearly as complicated as it looks. I can help you, too, if you have any trouble, but I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  Nancy had already cut all the pieces for the Amish Star blocks, and stacks of fabri
c cut in squares and triangles were laid out on the table next to a box of freezer bags. “I’ve got these all labeled so you know how many of each one goes in each kit. Try to make them look nice and orderly when you put them in the bag and then seal it. The last thing you’ll do is staple this instruction sheet to the top of the bag.” The bell on the front door rang. “Any questions?”

  “I think I’ve got it,” Celia said as she picked up one of the bags.

  “Wonderful. Then I’ll go take care of business up front. Come get me if you need me.” Nancy smiled as she walked to the front of the store.

  Celia’s thoughts drifted to where she had been the last few days. It hadn’t even been a week since Damien had stumbled into her room in Chicago and now here she was in Sisters, Oregon. It surprised her that she was here. Would she love this place the way her mother had? One thing she knew for certain. She would never go back to Chicago. She’d had enough of sorrow and disappointment and rejection and brutality. In one day she’d been shown more kindness than she’d experienced since the Hundleys.

  The sun was setting when she stepped out of The Stitchin’ Station carrying a bag with the Sunburst quilt pieces, the pattern, and a package of needles and thread. She hurried across the street and looked back at the mountains Nancy had told her about. There they were, rising up in the distance, purple in the evening dusk, their peaks still capped with snow that glowed pink in the waning light. The Three Sisters. Faith, Hope and Charity. The names were perfect and for a brief moment, Celia felt she was right where she belonged.

  When Pearl walked into the parlor Sunday afternoon, Celia was sitting by the unlit fireplace painstakingly sewing together the quilt block.

  “Let me see what you’re working on.” Pearl leaned over Celia’s handiwork.

  “I haven’t got much done yet. I’m not very good at this.”

  Pearl held up her work. There were only six pieces sewn together, but the stitches were small and even. “I think this looks very good. What a pleasant way to spend a Sunday afternoon.”

  “Thank you.” Celia took back the handiwork and weaved the needle through the fabric.

  Pearl sat down in the chair opposite Celia and watched her work. Celia must have felt her gaze because she looked up. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. I’m only thinking.” Pearl said.

  They sat in silence for several minutes before Pearl spoke again.

  “Celia, I must be getting back to California.”

  If Pearl hadn’t been watching Celia’s face, she would have missed the brief expression of panic that was quickly replaced by the dispassionate look Pearl now recognized. It was the face Celia showed the world when she was building up walls to protect herself, and the look hurt Pearl’s heart.

  “I talked to Nancy this morning. She’s making a lemon meringue pie this afternoon and invited us over to have a piece.” She paused for a moment, but when she got no reaction from Celia, she continued. “I can’t be certain what kind of cook Nancy is—maybe the pie will be terrible—but she seems to me to be the type of woman who could make a delicious pie, so I thought we should give it a try. Would you like to go with me?”

  Celia shrugged. “If you want me to go with you, I will.”

  “I’m not the one asking you to go. Nancy is. I think she quite likes you. You could show her the progress you’ve already made.”

  “I guess so.”

  It wasn’t the enthusiastic response Pearl had been hoping for, but it would have to do. The important thing was to get her to Nancy’s house.

  “I’m tired,” Pearl said, standing. “I’m going to take a nap and leave you to your sewing. Jenny left some sandwiches in the kitchen, so have one when you get hungry.”

  “Thank you.”

  Pearl paused on the stairs. “I don’t suppose Jenny would care if you turned on the television while you work.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve got some thinking to do.” Celia sounded sad, but she looked up at Pearl and offered a weary smile.

  Poor girl. Sometimes it seems God requires too much suffering of his children. Pearl reached up and touched the pearl comb in her hair. She knew something of pain herself. She offered a silent plea that Celia would leave Nancy’s tonight with a little more hope.

  A golden retriever slept on the front porch. It lazily lifted its head and offered a half-hearted bark when Pearl and Celia stepped out of the Toyota Pearl had picked up from the garage yesterday. “I thought your dog was black,” Pearl said when Nancy opened the front door.

  “He is. Winston is Silas’s dog.” When he heard his name, Winston lifted his head off the porch for another moment before going back to sleep. “Come on in.”

  The scent of warm lemons made Celia’s mouth water when they stepped into the cozy house. An old black lab moved slowly across the room and stopped beside her. Celia knelt down and rubbed behind the dog’s ears.

  “That’s Nubia,” Nancy said.

  “As in the ancient civilization?” Pearl asked.

  “No. After a variety of eggplant.”

  Pearl laughed. “I love eggplant.”

  “You’d have loved my gardens over the years. I’ve kind of got a reputation for growing the best eggplants around. I’ve grown at least twenty varieties.”

  “Twenty? I didn’t know there were that many.”

  “Oh yes. There are even more than that, but not all of them survive in our climate here. I’ve had some eggplant triumphs and some eggplant disasters. I’m going to miss growing them.” Nancy and Pearl exchanged a look Celia didn’t understand. “Going to miss meeting so many nice people at the farmers markets, too.”

  Celia listened to the women talk about the farmers markets in Bend and The Dalles and about the various ways eggplant can be prepared. She sat on the floor and Nubia had snuggled in beside her, her head resting on Celia’s lap, enjoying the attention, and thumping her tail softly on the floor.

  The women were in the middle of discussing a particularly delicious eggplant sandwich Pearl had eaten in Boston when the front door opened. Nubia jumped to her feet and hurried to meet Silas, wagging her tail.

  “I wondered when you’d come looking for your Winston. He’s been sitting on my porch most of the afternoon.”

  “I had to go out to...”

  When he stopped speaking mid-sentence, Celia looked up at him. His lips were pinched together tightly and his face had turned a deep red. He opened his mouth and pressed his lips together again. Celia wasn’t sure what was happening. She glanced at Nancy to see if she was concerned, but she looked calm as she watched Silas.

  Silas relaxed his still-red face and took a deep breath. His words were slower when he spoke again. “I had to go out to Pringle Falls campground. There were comp... laints.” He seemed to get hung up on the “p” but this time it hadn’t stopped him completely. He glanced down at Celia and she quickly looked away from his embarrassed expression.

  “Got it all taken care of?” Nancy asked and Silas nodded. “As long as you’re here, you should stay and have a piece of pie with us.”

  “I need to get home,” Silas said, glancing at Celia again.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s lemon meringue and it will only take you a few minutes to have a piece. I’m cutting it now.”

  “I’ll help you,” Pearl said, and suddenly Celia and Silas were alone in the pretty, mismatched living room.

  Silas sat down on a worn leather chair and rubbed Nubia’s head. Celia felt a pang of jealousy that his hands had something to do, while she had no idea what to do with hers. She occupied herself by picking at the strings in a small hole in her jeans. She risked a glance his direction but kept her eyes low, resting on Nubia, which gave her a good look at Silas’s hands. His fingers were long, the knuckles a little knobby and the veins raised over their surface like a mountain range on a map. Above his hands was a blue and green plaid shirt and gray, down-filled vest. But Celia didn’t dare look beyond that, in case he was looking at her.

 
She was glad when Nancy and Pearl returned, each carrying two plates of pie. Celia moved from the floor to a blue, stuffed chair and Pearl handed her the plate. It looked beautiful and bright and after one bite, she knew it would require effort not to look like a pig. It was one of the best things Celia had ever tasted, like sunshine in her mouth.

  “Pearl says you brought your quilt block over,” Nancy said.

  “I’ve only done a little of it.”

  “I’d love to see it.”

  Celia reluctantly placed her pie on a little table beside her chair and took the quilt block out of her jacket pocket. She smoothed the pieces of fabric out against her leg then handed it to Pearl, who handed it to Nancy.

  “You were right, Pearl, the stitching is remarkable.” She turned to Celia. “You sure you haven’t sewn before?”

  “I made a pillowcase in school. On a sewing machine.”

  “Well this is lovely, and your stitches look like you’ve been doing this forever.”

  “I’m being really careful.” She glanced at Silas and he quickly looked at his plate. “That’s why it takes so long.”

  “Practice makes perfect,” Pearl said. “Keep working at it and you’ll get faster.”

  Celia nodded and Nancy handed the quilt block back. She had barely taken another bite of pie when Silas stood and walked to the kitchen with his empty plate.

  When he returned to the room, he leaned down and gave his aunt a quick hug. “Thanks. That was good.” He ruffled Nubia’s ears and left without looking Celia’s direction. She felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment as she heard him start his pickup and pull out.

  “He must live close if his dog comes over,” Pearl said.

  “He lives down that lane beside my house. This house used to be my parents’ and when Jack married Sharon—” Nancy turned to look at Celia— “Jack was my brother and Silas’s dad, they built a house back there. Funny thing how here we are all these years later and we’re both living in our parents’ houses. It sat empty for a long time after Jack and Sharon died and Silas moved in here with me. Then we rented it out for a few years, and it helped pay for Silas’s college. After he graduated and started working for the forest service, he moved back into it.”