Rag Doll in the Attic

by Jan Fields

  “Your eyes look right pretty to me,” Jim said gallantly.

  Annie caught a fleeting frown pass over Alice’s face. Her friend was clearly taken with the handsome photographer, and he was certainly charming. Maybe it was time for her to give them some time alone. “You know, I should be getting back,” she said, standing and brushing off her crisp cotton pants. “I really should call my daughter about my grandchildren. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Parker. I’ll see you at the Hook and Needle meeting, Alice.”

  At that, Annie turned and hurried off, smiling as she noted that Alice had not protested her sudden departure. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything about the girls in your dreams,” Jim shouted after her.

  She waved her thanks, calling back, “Tell Alice, and she can tell me.”

  The walk down the long gravel road was almost more treacherous than the walk up. Gravel slipped and slid under Annie’s feet, and she had to move slowly to keep her balance. “What must this road be like in the rain?” she murmured.

  Finally she made it back to her yard and headed quickly up the back porch. She could hear the phone ringing inside. Boots met her halfway as she raced for the phone and seemed intent on tripping Annie before she could answer it. Despite some odd dance steps they managed together, Annie snagged the phone before the caller gave up. “Hello?” she said breathlessly as she made a face at the cat.

  “Mrs. Dawson?” Annie recognized the mellow voice instantly.

  “Pastor Mitchell? How nice to hear from you,” she said. She slipped into a high-backed Windsor chair by the phone and let the comforting voice of her pastor from Texas flow over her. She asked him about the missionary cupboard and other church programs in which she’d always been involved.

  Finally the pastor cleared his throat quietly and said, “I have to confess. I called you because your daughter asked me to. She suggested I talk you into moving back to Texas where … and I quote … you belong.”

  “Ah,” Annie said, shaking her head at her daughter’s newest plan to get her to give up Grey Gables. “LeeAnn can be single-minded when she wants something. So, are you going to try to talk me into coming back to Texas?”

  “No, though I am curious to know what you think about the situation,” Pastor Mitchell said. “Where do you feel most called to be?”

  Annie sighed. She poured out her heart and her confusion in one long gush. She loved Stony Point and felt a sense of belonging that made her feel right at home. She had made dear friends who were helping her heal after Wayne’s death and the loss of Gram in her life. But she couldn’t walk away from her life in Texas either.

  “I can’t bear the idea of never going back to the house Wayne and I shared. Still, I know I can’t just ignore the decision forever. I can’t just leave the house empty while I think about it for a few years.”

  “Well, I have an idea,” the pastor said slowly. “I’m not trying to talk you into anything, but the church has talked for years about picking up a piece of property for a missionary retreat. There’s a real need for a place families on the mission fields can come home to—a place to recharge. It’s possible the answer to your problem and ours lies right here.”

  “You want to buy my house?” Annie asked softly.

  “No, the church isn’t in a position to buy anything. The economy has been hard on our congregation. That’s what’s kept us from acting on this idea years ago. It’s very dear to my heart. I was just thinking that if you really feel like you want to make Stony Point your primary home,” he explained, “the church could take over the care of your house here. We could pack up your personal things and store them in the attic, but leave most of your belongings untouched. Then, when any mission family needs a place, they could stay in your home. And you could still stay in your home whenever you come back, of course.”

  Annie blinked at the tears that filled her eyes. Her mother and father had been missionaries, and she loved the idea of offering a shelter for mission families. Still, it felt so strange to think of people coming and going in her home when she wasn’t there. Could she let strangers into the home she had shared with Wayne?

  “I don’t mean for you to make a decision right now,” Pastor Mitchell said in response to her silence. “Just think about it and let me know when you know, OK?”

  “I will,” she said. “I will think about it and pray about it. This may be the answer I’ve been looking for.” She paused for a moment, and then added, “You know the twins’ birthday is coming up soon?”

  “Yes. LeeAnn told me you are planning to come back for the party,” the pastor said. “I believe she was hoping you would stay here once you saw the children again. You should be prepared for a fairly strong campaign on her part.”

  “I know my daughter well,” Annie said, “and I do agree that I need to have made my final decision by then, so that I can stick to it. I’ll give you an answer on your proposal as soon as I’ve made my decision. If I decide to let the church use the house, we can handle any details while I’m there.”

  The pastor agreed, and their conversation slipped into the comfort zone of catching up on births and weddings in the church. Annie promised that whatever she decided, they would definitely see her in church when she came back for the twins’ birthday. “You know I would never miss one of your sermons when I have the opportunity to be there,” she said.

  “I know,” the pastor said. “One thing I could count on every Sunday was the sight of encouraging smiles from you and Wayne whenever I looked out on the congregation. You’ve been badly missed here. It will be good to see you again, even for a visit.”

  As she hung up the phone, Annie felt a small glow of hope. She might still not be certain of her decision, but setting a deadline at least meant moving out of this place of limbo. “Whatever I decide,” she said quietly to herself, “it will be a relief to feel settled.”

  At the sound of her voice, Boots padded over and nudged her ankles in a show of support. Annie curled up on the loveseat near the window with a notebook. She decided to make a list of all the reasons she should go back to Texas, and another of all the reasons she should stay in Stony Point. Boots hopped up on her lap and settled down for a nap while she wrote.

  For hours, the only sound in the house was the scratch of Annie’s pen and birdsong through the window. Finally, a grumble from her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t had lunch. She flipped through the filled pages of the notebook and realized she had nearly the same number of things under each heading.

  “Well,” Annie said, “all I got from that was writer’s cramp!”

  Boots opened one eye and looked at her. “Nap’s over,” Annie said, gently shifting the sleepy cat to the loveseat. “I need some lunch.”

  The cat woke in a flash and followed Annie to the kitchen, more evidence that she spoke perfect English when it came to food.

  “What would I do with you if I go back to Texas?” Annie asked the cat as she poured a tall glass of mint tea to go with her freshly made sandwich. “Would you like to become a cowboy kitty?”

  Boots glanced up from crunching her kibble, and Annie imagined she saw disapproval on the furry face. “You might like it,” Annie said. “You seem like the perfect Southern belle to me.”

  Annie spent the next couple of days making a tiny crocheted sweater to match the larger one she’d created for Joanna. She thought her granddaughter would love to have a matching sweater for her favorite doll. She was quite proud of how well she adapted the pattern to the much smaller garment.

  She was a little surprised when no phone calls came from Alice. Annie realized she was incredibly curious about the possibility of romance for her friend. “I guess I won’t be able to complain anymore when the Hook and Needle Club grins at me every time a man speaks to me,” she told Boots during one of their afternoon cuddles in the new wicker chair on the porch. “I’m just as bad.” But she was glad when club day came around, as now she had a real mystery—the mystery of what was happening with her best f
riend and the handsome photographer!

  She slipped into A Stitch in Time bright and early on Tuesday. Mary Beth looked up in surprise as Annie breezed through the door. “You’re first today,” she said. “I don’t think that’s ever happened before. Were you lonely for your dolly?” She patted the rumpled little doll that leaned against the register.

  “I’m surprised you kept her out where people can see her,” Annie said. “She’s a little shabby.”

  “She’s just well-loved,” Mary Beth said. “Actually, Kate and I have grown quite attached to her. I do believe Kate has made up a dozen stories of what this little lady has been through. She’s become an unofficial store mascot, and we’ll miss her when you take her to the library.”

  “There is something endearing about her,” Annie admitted. Thinking of the doll reminded her of her nightmares. She hadn’t had one since her phone call with Pastor Mitchell. Maybe having a possible answer to her personal dilemma had chased the bad dreams away. “I had a dream about this little doll a few days ago. It had something to do with Butler’s Lighthouse.”

  “I can’t imagine what Butler’s Lighthouse could have in common with this sweet little doll,” Mary Beth said. “None of the lighthouse keepers ever had children there as far as I know.”

  Suddenly, Annie laughed. “I bet I know a budding lighthouse researcher who we could ask.”

  Before Annie could respond to Mary Beth’s puzzled look, the bell tinkled over the door, and Alice walked in with Peggy right behind her.

  “Ah, I was just talking about you, Alice,” Annie said, her voice teasing, “and about how interested you’ve gotten in lighthouses.”

  Alice grinned as she walked over and leaned on the counter. “You know me. I’m a huge history buff.”

  “Since when?” Peggy asked, looking at Alice in surprise.

  “Since history became more buff,” Annie said.

  “All right!” Mary Beth held up her hands. “You two are being way too mysterious, and you know how much I hate being left out. What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll tell you everything,” Alice said, “but let’s wait until everyone is here. Otherwise I know you’ll make me tell it over and over.”

  Kate breezed in, huffing a little from rushing. Her dark hair was rumpled from the breeze outside. “Sorry to be late,” she said to Mary Beth. “I was longer at Vanessa’s doctor than I expected.”

  “Is Vanessa all right?” Annie asked with concern in her voice.

  Kate nodded. “It was just an exam, but there was an insurance mix up. Apparently, Vanessa isn’t covered by Harry’s insurance anymore, and when I tried to call him, I just got his voice mail. So I had to pay for the visit. It was a bit of a shock.”

  The women nodded. No one ever knew quite how to respond to Kate’s problems with her ex-husband. He clearly loved his daughter, but he could be irresponsible too. It didn’t make things easy for Kate. “Let me know if you need a small advance to tide you over,” Mary Beth said.

  “I’m fine,” Kate said. “Just frustrated.”

  Another jingle at the door drew everyone’s attention. Stella swept in with the dignity of an English queen, and Gwen came in right after, dressed in a chic ivory pantsuit with a wide patent-leather belt. Both women were imposing in their own way. Gwen’s sense of style always made Annie feel the slightest bit shabby, while Stella’s matriarchal attitude subdued everyone around her. The women hurried to their cozy seats. Since the shop was empty of customers, Mary Beth sat with them.

  “Now, before we hear the story of Alice’s new passion for history,” Mary Beth raised an eyebrow when Annie laughed at her choice of words, “I wanted to talk a moment about the doll for the library writing contest. We need to pick which book the doll should represent.

  Annie suddenly flashed in her mind to the stack of books in the attic. “I found a really beautiful, old copy of The Secret Garden in the attic at Grey Gables,” she said. “What if we used that for the theme and gave the winner that lovely old book too? It would tie in with the historical display as well.”

  “That’s an excellent idea!” Mary Beth said. “I remember that story so well. And we could do little knitted stockings for the doll and a nice coat and hat. The story starts in the cold months of early spring, I believe.”

  “I would love to knit the little stockings,” Gwen said. “I have some really fine cream-color yarn that would be just perfect for it.”

  “I’ve finished the quilted book cover for Emily’s diary, and she loved it,” Peggy said. “I could make one for this book. Since the copy from the attic is older, it will give it a nice sprucing up to make it more appealing to the little girl.”

  “That’s a terrific idea,” Mary Beth said.

  Peggy beamed. “Do you think you could bring the book by The Cup & Saucer so I can get the dimensions?” she asked Annie.

  “Of course,” Annie said. “I’ll bring it by later today or in the morning.”

  Several of the others made suggestions for additions to the doll’s outfit, and soon, everyone had a job. As soon as that was settled, Mary Beth smiled and clapped her hands. “Now on to our mysteries!” she said.

  9

  “I think we should start with Annie’s mystery,” Alice said as she settled back in her chair with a tiny baby shoe in her lap. The delicate stitching on the tongue of the shoe was clearly beginning to look like a tiny robin. “I always like her attic mysteries best.”

  “You’re just stalling,” Annie teased as she got up to retrieve the doll from the counter and held it up before the group. “I found this lovely little doll in Gram’s attic. I don’t know who the owner was. Does she look familiar to you, Stella?”

  She passed the doll to the older woman. Stella’s normally stern face softened as she looked at the doll’s sweet expression. “These fabrics are too new to have been Betsy’s doll,” she said. “And the workmanship isn’t nearly good enough to have been made by Betsy for her daughter. I’ve never seen it before, but it’s certainly very sweet.”

  “She grows on you,” Kate said. “I wish we could get her back to her owner. Imagine getting back a childhood treasure like that.”

  “Well, my ideas for finding her owner began and ended with you, Stella,” Annie admitted. “I’m going to put her in the library display. Maybe the owner will walk by and claim her. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Then her smile faded as she thought of her frightening dreams of the girl and the doll. Could the dreams be more than her overactive imagination? She shook off the gloomy thought and turned to Alice. “OK, my mystery is all done. Tell us about yours.”

  Alice blushed slightly but otherwise seemed perfectly comfortable. “A photographer is visiting Stony Point and intends to put Butler’s Lighthouse in a book on New England lighthouses and legends. I met him, and I’m helping him gather some background information on the lighthouse.”

  “Has he talked to Liz and Edie at the Historical Society?” Stella asked.

  “He has,” Alice said, “but they were showing some of the stranger anxiety Stony Point is known for.” She paused as Stella sniffed slightly in response to her remark. Stella was often the leader in the campaign to keep strangers at arm’s length.

  “What do you know about him?” Stella asked pointedly. “Maybe they have good reason to be standoffish. These young paparazzi have no respect for history or tradition.”

  Annie nearly laughed out loud at Stella’s use of paparazzi.

  “I’ve looked him up on the Internet, and he’s done several very well-received books combining history and photographs,” Alice said. “He definitely matches the photo on the author page for those books. Also, he was never paparazzi. When he was younger, he was a war correspondent until he lost his legs in an explosion that brought down the hotel where journalists were staying in Kosovo.”

  “Oh my!” Annie gasped. Well, that certainly explained the limp.

  “I can call the Historical Society,” Stella said, her tone softer now. “I’ll se
e if they can be a little more helpful. What did you say the photographer’s name was?”

  “Jim Parker,” Alice said. “He’s mostly interested in the legends that tend to spring up around lighthouses. The ghost stories and children’s spook tales. I told him about the lighthouse curse as I’d always heard it.”

  “That’s just nonsense,” Stella said, her voice back to its normal aristocratic huff. “There certainly should be some real history connected with lighthouses. The book would be much better if it focused on the people saved by lighthouses.”

  Annie hid a smile by ducking to look at the rag doll in her lap. Stella certainly had an opinion on almost every topic and wasn’t the least bit shy about sharing it.

  “Apparently people like reading about legends,” Alice said. “They’re normally a bit of nonsense, though Jim believes they reflect the fears and values of a community. He says you can learn a lot about people by the legends they keep alive.”

  Stella sniffed and Annie was fairly sure she heard the older woman mutter, “Nonsense.”

  Alice simply ignored her and continued with her story. “Now, Jim had heard about Cagney’s death.” The death of the young man was tied to Mary Beth’s niece, so it was a touchy subject. Alice paused and turned her eyes to Mary Beth, clearly giving her time to respond.

  “That had nothing to do with the lighthouse curse,” Mary Beth said tightly. “And I wouldn’t like to see the story in a book where it can hurt Amy.”

  “I’m certain I was able to get Jim to understand that,” Alice said. “I told him the basics of that case and that Cagney definitely wasn’t trying to defy some lighthouse curse on the night he was murdered. But there is another story he wants to learn more about.”

  “What story is that?” Mary Beth said warily.

  “Apparently a little girl died from a fall near the lighthouse,” Alice said. “Jim wasn’t sure how long ago, though he is sure it preceded Cagney’s death. I promised I would help him track down the details of any deaths of children in the area. Stony Point hasn’t seen that many accidents involving young children.”