Heart in Hand: Stitches in Time Series #3

by Barbara Cameron

  The bell jangled over the door as she left.

  Mary Katherine joined Anna at the counter. “So, did she come in to check you out?” she whispered.

  Anna shook her head. “Apparently she sent Gideon in to get something for Sarah Rose. I need to get back to them.”

  She walked over to where Gideon stood considering a pattern in his hand. “You sure I can do this?”

  “I remember you were very good with your hands in schul,” she said, then realized how that sounded. She blushed and unfolded the directions. “It’s just a matter of following directions, counting out rows, that sort of thing, see?”

  Remembering what she’d told his sister, she smiled at him. “If you or Sarah Rose have any problems, just come see us here.”

  Gideon glanced up and studied her. “You’ll help us with questions?”

  Funny, but her throat went dry. “Any—any of us can help you.”

  “But you’re the knitting expert.”

  She nodded.

  “Well, then, we’ll come see you if we have any questions.”

  She started to nod again and then realized she probably looked like one of those silly bobblehead dolls that they sold in a nearby toy store. Turning, she looked for Sarah Rose and found her in an adjoining aisle, staring hard at an object in her hand. It was a thimble, one that bore a carved silver flower design.

  “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she asked.

  Sarah Rose jumped and dropped the thimble. “Sorry,” she said as she scrambled for it.

  “No problem. I’ll go ring up the things you and your daedi chose.”

  Turning, she made her way back to the counter and added up the purchase, then reached for the schedule of classes and with a pen circled the knitting class before handing it to Gideon.

  “You might want to attend a class since you’re taking up a new hobby,” she said.

  “Me in a class with a bunch of ladies?”

  “You never know, you might meet someone,” she teased. The minute the words were out, she wanted to call them back.

  “And where do you meet men?” He watched her with an intensity she found unnerving.

  Frowning, she shook her head. “I don’t.” She bit her lip, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me to suggest you’d want to meet someone. You might not be any more ready than I am. I just thought—”

  “You just thought?” he finished for her.

  Oh, well, in for a penny, she thought. “I just thought since you have Sarah Rose you might be looking to get married again.”

  “To give her a mamm?”

  She lifted her shoulders and then let them fall. “It’s what many men do. It’s hard to raise a child on your own.”

  “True. But I figure when God feels it’s the right time, He’ll send along the woman he has for me.”

  His words threw her. “You think that God has more than one person set aside for us?”

  He nodded slowly. “I can’t think He gave us a taste of heaven only to yank it away forever, do you?”

  “I—I don’t know,” she whispered, at a loss for words for perhaps the first time in her life.

  “Daedi, can we go now?” Sarah Rose said, appearing beside him. “I’m very hungry.”

  Gideon blinked and dragged his gaze away from Anna. “I promised her we’d eat while we were in town.”

  “I’m glad you stopped by,” Anna told the child. She smiled at her. “If you have any problems, you and your daedi come see us here, all right?”

  Nodding quickly, Sarah Rose tugged on her father’s hand. “Can we go?”

  Shrugging, Gideon allowed himself to be led to the door. “Say thank you to Anna, Sarah Rose.”

  “Danki!”

  And they were gone.

  “Anna?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Anna!” Mary Katherine said more firmly.

  “What?” Anna turned to look at her cousin.

  “I didn’t know how to tell you this while they were here.”

  Anna rolled her eyes. “Don’t start acting like I’m interested in Gideon.”

  “I don’t have to state the obvious,” Mary Katherine said dryly. “But it’s not that. Anna, Sarah Rose stole while she was in here.”

  3

  She did what?”

  “Sarah Rose stole.” Mary Katherine’s voice sounded flat and disappointed.

  “Are you sure? I didn’t see anything.”

  Mary Katherine sat down on the stool behind the counter. “I couldn’t believe my eyes, either. She took one of the silver thimbles.”

  “Why didn’t you say something while they were here?”

  “I was so surprised, I didn’t know what to do. I think we should ask Grandmother what she wants us to do about it.”

  “Do about what?”

  Anna pressed a hand to her heart. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “Do about what?” Leah repeated as she walked around the counter and checked the cash register.

  “Sarah Rose stole something while she was here—one of the fancy carved silver thimbles.”

  Leah stopped and stared at Mary Katherine. “Sweet little Sarah Rose? Gideon’s daughter?”

  “I saw her holding it, but I thought she put it back,” Anna said. “Mary Katherine said she was too shocked to say anything.”

  “Well, Gideon must be told.”

  Anna nodded. “I’ll go see him after work. He’s going to be appalled. What would make her steal something?”

  “She lost one of the two most important people in her life two years ago.”

  “You’re saying she stole because her mamm died?” Anna asked, not believing what she was hearing.

  “Grief affects people in different ways,” Leah said quietly.

  “I don’t believe what I’m hearing.” Shaking her head, Anna walked around the counter. “I’m going to go finish unpacking the delivery I started before we got busy today.”

  It is downright ridiculous the way people blame everything on grief, she thought as she opened a box and pulled out skein after skein of yarn and checked it off on the shipping invoice that had been included. She’d lost Samuel and not turned into a kleptomaniac, hadn’t she? And she hadn’t heard of anyone she knew who had lost a loved one who’d resorted to larceny. Mood swings, sure. Sleepless nights. Difficulty concentrating. She could personally verify that all those were symptoms of going through grief.

  But stealing? Never.

  The day had gone by so fast, but the last hour before closing dragged. Anna knew it was because she was dreading talking to Gideon. She went over and over what to say: “I’m concerned about Sarah Rose. I’m sorry to tell you that your child stole from us. Maybe you should get her counseling.” No, that was telling him what to do.

  “Give us back the thimble and we won’t press charges.” Ouch.

  Or—the door opened and her grandmother stepped inside the storage room.

  “Do you want me to go with you when you talk to Gideon?”

  Surprised, Anna shook her head. “No, why?”

  “I know it’s probably going to be awkward.”

  Anna shrugged. “I imagine it will be. But I’ve known Gideon for years. And Sarah Rose since she was born. I’m hoping he’ll realize I’m there to talk to him as a friend.”

  Leah sighed. “I hope so, too. Get your things together. We’re closing a few minutes early.”

  Well, that certainly caused mixed emotions, Anna thought. Part of her just wanted the workday over with, and part of her knew she still had to talk to Gideon. Anna winced. So sad. She’d always liked Sarah Rose with her big, solemn eyes and sweet nature. She hated having to tell Gideon that the child had done something wrong.

  Gideon was a good father. She could tell from seeing him with his daughter in church. Such obvious love and care couldn’t be pretense. And the fact that he’d brought her to the shop to find something to do with her—something he thought her mother would have done with her. Well, t
hat was so sweet.

  “What are you going to say?” Naomi wanted to know as Nick, her fiancé and their driver for the past couple of years, drove them to Gideon’s home.

  “I have no idea.”

  She turned to Leah. “What would you say?”

  “No parent likes to hear that his child has done such a thing,” Leah said, turning to stare out the van window with a faraway expression. “I remember when your mother’s teacher called me. I was appalled. I—well, that’s for another time.”

  She looked back at Anna. “Be prepared for Gideon to be defensive because he won’t think his little girl could steal. It’s the boys we expect such behavior from.” She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “Sorry, Nick.”

  He laughed. “No offense taken. My mother had a lot of those conversations with teachers and others, I’m afraid. About my brother, not me. I was the good son.”

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and he glanced at Naomi sitting in the front passenger seat, then away. She reached over and squeezed his arm and he nodded, but no words were exchanged.

  Something was obviously wrong. Anna glanced at her grandmother, but she shook her head and touched her forefinger to her lips to indicate now wasn’t the time to be asking.

  Anna knew her cousins didn’t always appreciate her curiosity, but it wasn’t as if curiosity could be—should be—contained. She believed it was like trying to hold back a sneeze. Maybe it would do something to you inside.

  That was her story and she was sticking to it.

  But she was getting That Look from her grandmother so she stifled herself. She hoped her grandmother realized what an effort it was taking.

  A few minutes later, Nick drove into Gideon’s drive.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” he told her. “Will that give you enough time?”

  She took a deep breath. “I might need just five minutes. It could be that he’ll slam the door in my face.”

  Her grandmother patted her hand. “Gideon won’t do that.”

  “But who knows what Sarah Rose will do?” She got out of the van and straightened her shoulders. “Well, here goes.”

  She looked at her grandmother, then Naomi. “See you both in the morning.”

  “We’ll pray for you and Sarah Rose,” her grandmother said. “And Gideon.”

  Anna nodded. “Good idea.” She glanced at Nick. “See you in an hour.”

  As she walked toward the house, she couldn’t help thinking how glad she was that she had tomorrow off.

  The door opened before she could knock.

  Sarah Rose stood there, frowning. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, not sounding like the sweet little girl who’d accompanied her father just hours earlier.

  “I think you know,” Anna said quietly, trying very hard not to sound accusing.

  Sarah Rose reached into her pocket and threw the thimble at Anna’s feet. “There!” she cried. “Take the stupid thing.”

  Anna’s eyes widened at the girl’s rude action, then she glanced down where the thimble glittered in the fading sunlight as it lay on the wooden porch.

  “Sarah Rose? Is someone at the door?”

  The child went white as she heard her father call. “No, Daedi!” She slammed the door.

  A moment later, the door opened and Gideon stood there, looking puzzled. “Anna? What’s going on?”

  Anna bent down to pick up the thimble. “We need to talk.”

  “Schur.” He held the door open wider and gestured for her to enter. “We just finished supper. Have you eaten? Can I offer you something?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll eat when I get home.”

  “Some coffee?”

  Anna hesitated. A cup of coffee after a long day might be nice, but she wasn’t sure how he’d feel about offering it after what she had to say.

  “Let me get you some. Come on into the kitchen.”

  The room was warm and homey, with crisp curtains at the window. Anna knew that Mary had made them because she’d bought the material at the store. Mary had been quite a seamstress, even in a community filled with good ones.

  If Anna hadn’t already been feeling a little hungry for her evening meal, she would have been now. Unless she was mistaken, they’d had vegetable beef soup and—sniff, sniff—grilled cheese sandwiches.

  Gideon chuckled and shrugged as he noticed her looking over at the stove.

  “Soup and sandwich night,” he said, setting a mug of coffee in front of her. “Sarah Rose isn’t much for fancy food, and that’s good considering my cooking skills. Cream? Sugar? I’m afraid I don’t have any of that sugar substitute stuff some women are so fond of.”

  “Milk and regular sugar are fine.”

  He got a small carton of half-and-half from the refrigerator and pushed a small sugar bowl toward her.

  She fixed the coffee to her taste and noted that he took his black. When she tried hers, she found it so delicious she probably didn’t need the cream and sugar. Who knew a man could make such a good cup of coffee?

  “I’m afraid we haven’t tried the kit yet so I can’t tell you how it is.”

  Anna smiled. “I didn’t figure you’d had time. I—I came to talk to you about something else. Something that happened at the store today. I’m afraid I have to tell you that Sarah Rose stole something.”

  She wished she’d timed it better—Gideon choked on his coffee. He reached for a napkin and wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry—you said?”

  “Sarah Rose stole this.” Anna held out the thimble.

  Gideon looked confused. “If she stole it, how can you have it?”

  Anna sighed. “She just—gave it to me at the door when I arrived.”

  She didn’t want to tell him that his daughter had thrown it at her. It was enough to have to tell him his daughter had shoplifted.

  He put his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the table, and then he straightened and looked at her. “I am so sorry she put you through this trouble. I’m going to have her apologize.”

  He stood, pulled out his wallet, and began pulling bills from it.

  “There’s no need to pay,” she said quickly. “The item’s been returned, and it wasn’t damaged. But I do think an apology is in order. I think it would be good for Sarah Rose.”

  “You’re sure about the money?”

  She nodded.

  “Let me call her down.”

  He went to the stairs and did so, and they heard her slowly descend them. When she entered the kitchen, it was obvious that she’d been crying. Gideon pulled out a chair and indicated she was to sit between him and Anna.

  “Sarah Rose, Anna had to come here this evening after a long day working to tell me something. Something disappointing.”

  “I gave it back to her!” she cried, her lips trembling.

  “That doesn’t make it right,” he said firmly.

  Big tears began rolling down her cheeks. Anna’s stomach twisted and she felt like crying herself.

  “Why did you take it?” he asked her.

  She wiped her tears away with her fists. “I just wanted it.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me for it?”

  “It was too ’spensive.”

  “But that’s no reason to steal it. I hope you haven’t done that anywhere else?”

  She shook her head hard.

  “You owe Anna an apology.”

  Sarah Rose turned to Anna. “I’m sorry.”

  “Go to your room now, Sarah Rose. We’re going to talk some more about your punishment before you go to bed.”

  She slid off her chair and threw herself into his arms. “I’m sorry,” she cried as she pressed her face against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

  He patted her back, frowning as he looked at Anna. “Go get ready for bed.”

  She ran from the room and Gideon sat there, lost in thought. Then he looked at Anna.

  “Can I see that thimble again?”

  “Sure.” She held it out, and he s
tudied it for a moment and then handed it back to her. “Wait here just a minute.”

  He left the room and took the stairs two at a time. She listened to his footsteps overhead, then he returned to the room carrying a sewing basket.

  Sitting, he opened the basket, his hands looking so big and masculine on the delicate woven basket. He reached inside and withdrew something, holding it out in the palm of his hand.

  The thimble was exactly the same as the one Sarah Rose had stolen.

  “I thought it looked familiar,” he said. “This was Mary’s.”

  “She must have taken it because it reminded her of her mother. Mary probably bought it in our store. She shopped there for her quilting and sewing supplies.”

  When he nodded, she stayed silent for a minute, thinking hard. “Gideon, why haven’t you given the basket to Sarah Rose?”

  “She wasn’t old enough when her mother died. I thought I’d give it to her when she would appreciate it more.”

  “Maybe she’s old enough now,” Anna said. “I think when she was in the store and she saw the thimble like her mother’s, it stirred something in her. Maybe you should give it to her.”

  “My daughter’s something of a tomboy,” he said. “She hasn’t really been interested in sewing and that sort of thing. That’s one of the reasons I brought her to the store today—the promise I made to her mother that I wouldn’t let her become a wild little thing.”

  “This isn’t about her having the basket so she can sew. It’s because she wants something that reminds her of her mother.”

  Anna touched the basket. “I remember what tiny stitches Mary made when she quilted. How she made a crib quilt before Sarah Rose was born and talked about how much she was looking forward to holding her.”

  She looked at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you sad.”

  “Can’t be helped,” he said, putting the thimble back inside the basket and closing it. “At the same time, it helps to hear a good memory, don’t you think?”

  She nodded, but the truth was, she didn’t often let someone speak of Samuel. It just hurt too much. Glancing at the kitchen clock, she stood.