Threads of Change

by Jodi Barrows

  Caleb would have loved this quilt, she thought.

  Each piece and every stitch had come to memorialize his life with her. And now that completed quilt announced the final chapter of their book as well.

  Luke had turned twelve, and Liz would reach her thirty-second birthday that summer. She’d been a widow for almost a full year. Several Southern gentlemen had made their courting desires known to Grandpa Lucas. He’d even tried to convince her to see Doc Gaither. He was handsome and agreeable enough, she supposed, but Liz loved Caleb. She missed his smile, and the two freckles on his ear.

  Across the hall, the bustle of Megan’s treadle machine brought Liz to the doorway. She watched as Megan sewed pieces on the new treadle. Petite, with dark and shiny straight hair, Megan had hazy green eyes, big and intent, their gaze revealing her passionate nature; playful and happy. She pedaled the machine hard, her shoulders even with the movement of the machine, her hair swaying this way and that as she pushed through the quilt top of vibrant creams, reds, and blues.

  Darkness had begun to roll in, and Liz knew she’d have to light the lamp for the evening. She didn’t like Megan to work by lamplight. With so much shifting and motion, she feared the lamp might fall and start a fire. Megan slowed the motion of the treadle wheel and looked up at her.

  “I think Luke will probably go with us when we leave for Texas,” Liz said.

  “What happened? I thought you were against it,” Megan commented.

  “I told him that Grandpa and I would consider it. But now that I think of it, we could use him.”

  “I’ve thought so all along, really.”

  Megan adjusted the fabric under the needle of her treadle. She had taken to the new machine immediately. Learning the difference in hand piecing and treadle sewing hadn’t troubled her one bit.

  “What happened a little while ago with Luke?” she asked.

  “He overheard us discussing whether he would go with us or not. He got mad and said he would join the Union Army if we forbade him to come.”

  They shared a giggle at Luke’s idea.

  “I know it is safer for him here, Liz, but I do think it would be better if he went with us. He can even go to school there.” Megan brightened suddenly. “Oh, Liz! I didn’t tell you. I got a letter today from Pastor Parker and his wife.”

  “You did? I must’ve been sleeping. Did you read it?”

  “Yes, I did. By fall, they’ll have the church prepared for holding classes, and they want Abby to teach there!”

  “Oh, Meggie, that’s wonderful.”

  “Yes, they’re preparing a classroom in an extra room of the church. I can’t wait to tell her.”

  “She will be delighted. Did they say when to expect them?”

  “Their stage should arrive late Thursday afternoon.”

  “I must say, Meggie, I’m growing rather excited about our journey.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I wonder if Abby and Emma are as well.”

  “Oh, they must be!”

  A wagon jangled as it rolled away from the house, dust trailing just behind. Liz watched as two lanterns dangled from the side posts of the wagon, realizing she must have dozed for longer than she’d expected.

  “Where are the Lukes off to?” Megan asked.

  “Grandpa wanted to take Luke for one final fishing trip. And they prefer to fish at night. Grandpa says that’s when most of the fish are caught.”

  “Oh, maybe we’ll have catfish for supper.”

  They shared a laugh without verbalizing their usual joke about whether or not there were any fish left to be caught in that pond at all.

  “Is that Granny’s pattern?” Liz asked, and Megan nodded.

  They gazed at the cotton top, a lovely, pieced appliqué quilt with nine beautiful flower blocks. The various triangles had been meticulously stitched together so that the corners ran smooth and flat against the borders. “This is beautiful! I simply adore this pattern. Do you remember the one she made with pastel fabrics and paisley border? Granny always loved appliqué.”

  Liz traced her fingers over the seams and down its edges. She’d always felt that quilts were made to be touched. It was part of the process. Love poured from her fingertips, circling through the quilt and straight back into her.

  “Yes, I do. It was very pretty,” Megan replied.

  “You’ve finished so quickly, Meggie. It looks wonderful. You’ve become quick friends with this machine.”

  “Thank you.” Megan glowed. “I would like to have this one in its frame by morning.”

  “Oh! Well, I can’t wait to see it quilted. I can help if you’d like.”

  “I imagine that Abby and Emma will want to help as well.” Megan started the pedal moving again.

  Megan hovered over the treadle and concentrated on the needle as Liz peered out the window at the red dusk-shadowed barn.

  “Liz, do you think you will ever remarry?”

  The question caught her by surprise. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be a widow, but I don’t feel like I could right now. I just … want Caleb to come home. I know he won’t, but I just have to hang on to that thread of hope that maybe he just might. Not seeing the accident,” she said, and then paused and bit her lip. “Not seeing a body just makes me wonder or hope that he’s out there somewhere, trying to find us.” She shrugged her shoulder. “Silly.”

  Megan sighed, and Liz felt her sympathetic affection. But the matchmaker in her sister seemed always at the ready.

  “Have you thought about Thomas?”

  “Caleb’s best friend?” She dipped her eyebrows at the thought. “Thomas, as a suitor? No, not really. Isn’t he like family?”

  “Yes, we already know him.” She paused. “You’ve both lost Caleb, Liz.” Megan’s interest no longer remained fixed on her sewing, but on her sister.

  Liz squirmed a little. “Is that what we would start a relationship with? Our grief?”

  “Well, maybe it does sound silly now, but think about it.” Megan paused for a moment. “I think Thomas wants to see you as more than a family friend.”

  “What?” Liz blushed. “Now, who is being silly?”

  “Pay attention, Liz. He lingers sometimes, and he watches you constantly.”

  Liz did remember some longer looks from Thomas, but she’d always attributed it to his concern for her.

  “I don’t know, Megan. It’s too soon.”

  “Are you going to be a widow for the rest of your life? You’re past the required six months of mourning.”

  Liz looked at her sister sharply.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Just think about it, Liz.” Teasing her sister into a smile, Megan added, “Thomas is a catch, you know, and our lovely cousins will be here in a few days.”

  Liz placed Caleb’s quilt at the foot of her bed, and it dipped down and touched the wooden floor. She smoothed it with her hand, fixing the wrinkles she had made from sleeping the night before.

  She glanced at the empty side of the bed and contemplated what Megan suggested about Thomas.

  Perhaps I should speak with him, she thought. I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

  The sound of horses brought Liz to the front porch, and Megan arrived at the same time. They looked out over the railing as six wooden wagons met in the yard and in front of the barn. The mill workers unloaded empty crates and boxes of sawdust from the mill.

  The late afternoon felt quite muggy from the previous night’s rain. Springtime in Louisiana always brought with it a hot spell. The daytime air remained damp and heavy. Today, however, seemed especially humid. Liz ran her hand across her neck. The back of her dress stuck to her shoulders.

  “Miss Elizabeth. Miss Megan. Good afternoon,” Thomas said in full stride as he approached the steps.

  “Good afternoon,” they said politely.

  “We’re unloading your packing crates,” Thomas said.

  “Thank you. We are ready to start packing,” Megan said,
inspecting the crates from a distance.

  “Yes, we also brought the sawdust to pack your breakables for the trip.”

  “Thank you. That was thoughtful,” Liz replied, and she suddenly found herself looking at Thomas in a way she never had before.

  Thomas’s muscles rippled under his snug shirt, and he held a quiet confidence that boosted his attractiveness. The neutral-colored trousers fell over his boot tops.

  Liz suddenly realized she was looking him over from head to toe, and she scolded herself, afraid her thoughts might show up on her blushing face. “It was just as easy to bring the wagons, too. Everything is ready.”

  “When will more of the horses arrive?” Megan asked.

  “Most likely, in a few days.”

  Grandpa Lucas motioned to Megan from the side of one of the wagons. She gave a polite gesture to Thomas and hastily walked down the stairs to meet him. They exchanged whispers and looked over to the couple standing in silence under the porch. Try as she might, Liz couldn’t avoid their scrutiny.

  Grandpa Lucas wanted nothing more than for Liz to be happy, she knew that. And he had always been quite partial to Thomas. More than twenty years ago, his wife Claire and their young son had died, and her grandfather had never remarried.

  It’s different for a man though, she thought.

  Grandpa Lucas had the mill and the farm and two granddaughters to look after. His Claire could never be replaced, although he had never really looked. Not too long ago, however, Liz and Megan told him about a widow his age who lived just outside of town. The woman had made it known that she was interested in Lucas, but he seemed insulted by the mere thought of it. Afterward, he stopped going to any of the church socials that she attended.

  “Nonsense!” he had called it.

  “Thomas,” Liz said, all of a sudden uncomfortable standing next to him alone. “I suppose I should let you know something.”

  Thomas focused his gaze and listened anxiously. His silent attention somehow made her uneasy though, and she quickly lost her words. She had never felt this way with Thomas before.

  “Oh,” she mumbled.

  He seemed to sense her nervousness, and he moved closer.

  Liz took a sudden small step backward to avoid him. Her foot searched for a stair behind her. A board creaked under the weight of her foot and startled her. She tried to adjust her footing, but her balance shifted on the top step. Somehow, she lost control of her feet and her hands and arms rummaged desperately for a post, a column, anything to steady herself.

  I’m going to fall. The words dashed through her mind.

  And flat on her fanny she fell!

  As she hit the ground, a burst of laughter erupted from the yard. Everyone had seen the whole embarrassing ordeal. She looked up at Thomas, and he and the mill workers burst with laughter. After a moment, all she could do was join them. She was sick of crying, after all.

  “Nothing to see here, nothing to see,” Thomas said, waving his arms at everyone and trying to be funny while removing the attention from Liz.

  “Ahh, are you all right?” Grandpa Lucas asked, rushing over to help her stand.

  “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Just wounded my pride. I don’t know what is wrong with me.”

  “Lizzie,” Megan teased. “Did someone move the porch?”

  Another small burst of laughter erupted among the bystanders. Liz smiled and tried to act busy dusting the ground off her dress. She had needed a good laugh and she really wasn’t hurt.

  The timber mill workers, pleased with the disturbance that had interrupted their work, walked back to the wagons with smiles and recaps of the incident with a “Didyousee,” and an “Andthenshe” before they all laughed.

  “Are you okay?” Thomas asked now with everyone gone.

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Good, I didn’t mean to cause that … if I did.”

  “Would you like some currant tea?” Liz asked with a tilt of her head, clearly letting Thomas know she was changing the topic.

  “Please, I’m quite thirsty.” He smiled back at her.

  “Okay, I’ll bring it to you on the porch.”

  When she returned from the kitchen, the front yard bustled again with mill workers and wagons, unloading and preparing to leave for the day. Liz and Thomas sat on the porch sipping currant tea, both of them seemingly somehow pleased by being separated from it all. Liz felt mischievous for it, like they should be working but weren’t.

  Luke sat hunched over the porch steps with the catfish fillets he had recently caught and cleaned. They awaited breading before Liz cooked them, and the barn cats hovered about, awaiting their chance to have a taste of the leftovers.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Liz inquired. “We’re having catfish.”

  “I can see that. Catfish sounds delicious.” Thomas sent Luke a pleasing smile.

  “Great then, I think Grandpa would like to discuss some things about the trip with you.” Liz gathered her thoughts, preparing to change the subject. “I want you to know I’ve really appreciated all that you’ve done for us, for Luke and the mill and everything.”

  “I’ve enjoyed working for your grandfather. He’s a good man.” Liz’s hands wrapped tightly around her tea glass. “I’m going to put the marker on the hill for Caleb in the morning. Would you like to come with me?”

  Liz hadn’t wanted an empty casket for Caleb, or a memorial service. Anytime it had been mentioned, she firmly shut it down. But now that they planned to leave, she felt the time had come to do so.

  “It would honor me,” Thomas said, and he seemed surprised at Liz putting a finality to Caleb’s death.

  Before either could speak again, Megan appeared from the house.

  “Li-zee,” Megan interrupted from inside as she stepped out onto the porch with cornmeal on her hands. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t know you were out here, Thomas,” she said. “Well, dinner will be ready soon. But could you give me a hand, Liz? I need your help with something.” She winked.

  “Yes, I’ll be right in,” Liz said, wondering what her sister was up to now.

  “Thomas, are you staying for dinner?” Grandpa Lucas asked merrily as he approached the front steps.

  Liz intervened, “Yes, he is.”

  “Good then, we’ve got so much catfish we could never eat it all.”

  “Mom, is Thomas staying for dinner tonight?” Luke asked excitedly.

  “Yes, honey, he’s staying for dinner.” Liz wondered if anyone at all had paid attention to what had been happening on the porch.

  Liz walked into the house with Luke straggling just behind with the catfish in hand. Thomas and Grandpa Lucas lingered on the front porch, looking out at the dusky sky. The sun dipped down below the trees, just beginning to settle for the night, and magnificent pinks, reds, and oranges smeared the blue sky through the clouds and final beams of sunlight. The locusts sang their low whine from tree to tree.

  “What an incredible sunset,” Lucas suggested while chewing the stem of his tobacco-less pipe. Thomas recalled him saying that the general store happened to be out of his brand, and he hated Lyon tobaccos.

  “It is especially incredible tonight, isn’t it?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Grandpa Lucas said, in a form of masculine agreement.

  A long silence lingered, but Thomas figured silence was quite the norm for men standing on a porch together. They were just more comfortable with the idea of silence. It wasn’t at all awkward.

  “Well,” Lucas said, breaking the silence. “I have been thinking some, and I must say that I don’t feel completely at ease with sending my granddaughters alone on this trip. I just don’t like the idea.” He paused for a moment. “I’ve made plans for them to have an escort part of the way, with the Rangers from Texas, but I’m still not eased by this.”

  “I can understand that. I think it’s normal, sir.”

  “The reason I’m telling you this, Thomas, is because I would like for you to go along with them and be their escort.”r />
  Thomas paused for a moment, thinking about what to say. “And this would make you at ease … if I went along with them?”

  Lucas chuckled and pulled out his pipe to examine it. He had a contagious laugh, and Thomas couldn’t help but laugh along with him. Though, he wasn’t sure what about.

  “Thomas, I don’t think anything would ease my mind completely, but it would help to know you were there.”

  Thomas understood the old man’s feelings.

  “But I also know the ladies, and Luke too, would want for you to go rather than any of the other millworkers.”

  “I see.”

  “So, what do you say? You can think about it some if you’d like …”

  “I’ll do it then, sir.” Thomas blurted out his answer with excitement, offering his hand to Lucas. They shook hands firmly.

  “Dinner is ready!” Megan called from the door. Even though she had a comb in her hair, it swung with every feisty movement.

  “Wonderful, I’m hungry,” Lucas said, placing his hand around the back of Thomas’s shoulder. “Let’s go eat. We can discuss the details later.”

  Dawn had a hard time breaking through the fog the next morning. Liz could barely see the corner of the barn from the house with its red outline poking out through the muddled mistiness. The fog had a way of filtering out any distant noises until they drew near so, when Thomas’s wagon showed up in the yard, the sudden jolt of the horse announced his arrival.

  A large wooden marker and two shovels lay in the wagon bed, along with about ten feet of rope. Liz didn’t know the purpose of the rope; but it was always in the wagon.

  “Good morning!” Thomas called as he stepped down. “How are you?”

  “Good morning. I’m fine; a little tired, however,” Liz admitted. She hadn’t slept well the night before.

  Liz had decided to put the marker on the “bodiless” grave. She’d never wanted to before, but she felt she needed to do it before they left their home behind. Caleb’s marker would rest on the hill where Claire and other family members had been buried. Her husband needed to be remembered.