A Stitch in Time

by Susette Williams

  A Stitch in Time

  By Susette Williams

  Published by Family Friendly Fiction

  © 2018 by Susette Williams

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Dedication

  Thanks to God for giving me inspiration and the desire to write; my husband, Rob, and to our six children, Delilah, Eric, Melissa, Gabrielle, Nehemiah and Nathaniel.

  Acknowledgement

  Having raised six children, I realize how busy and hectic schedules can be, which is why I decided to begin writing novelettes and novellas—for the busy reader on-the-go. Now you can enjoy a shorter story when you don’t have time to sit down and read a novel. These are the perfect length books to read when you are waiting in a doctor or dentist office, trying to kill time while your child is at practice or a school sporting event, etc. I have waited for children a lot over the years, or at the doctor/dentist visit, and it helps when you have something you can do. It’s also nice when you can read a book for entertainment for less than the price of a cup of coffee!

  I hope you will enjoy this story. I can’t thank you enough for your continued support and hope that you are truly blessed in the year to come—Thank You!

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Excerpt of Little Orphan Annie

  Chapter One

  “E lizabeth Ruth Peterson, you are even more persnickety than my mother was growing up during the time of the World’s Fair,” said Great-grandma Mullane, her stern features buried beneath the wrinkles of age and wisdom. “If you keep turning your nose up at young suitors, you’ll be too old to have children when you finally do get married. Your great-great-grandmother didn’t have me until she was thirty-eight years old, and she’s lucky she didn’t die giving birth.”

  Lizzie sighed. She felt trapped in the small confines of her grandmother’s dining room. Fumbling with the delicate Delaware china cup, a tiny crack visible along one portion of blue roses and scrolls, she took the last sip of her hot green tea. “I know, Grandma Mullane.”

  “You know that Grandma Mullane and I are just worried about you, sweetie. It’s not good for anyone to be alone.” Grandma Bader patted Lizzie on the shoulder.

  Great-Grandma Mullane was in her early nineties, and Grandma Bader, who was only nineteen years younger, were both widowed and lived together.

  Having Grandmother Bader and Great-grandmother Mullane both living in the same house made it challenging to visit either of them. One-on-one, Lizzie felt outnumbered, but double-teamed… she felt like she was under a microscope. Why had she let her mother talk her into staying with both her widowed grandmothers to keep an eye on them while she and her father were out of town? After spending a day and a half with them, she remembered why she’d left Warrensburg and moved to St. Louis—to avoid scrutiny from her family.

  Christmas wasn’t far away. She had to finish her shopping and wrapping presents. Right now, the thought of fighting crowds looked appealing as opposed to having the marriage discussion with her grandmothers.

  “I’m only twenty-eight. I’ve still got plenty of time to find a husband.” It wasn’t like she wasn’t looking. Most single men her age had already fathered children or gotten divorced, some of whom wanted nothing to do with getting married again because of their previous experience.

  “Go get my mother’s quilt from the cedar chest at the end of my bed,” Grandma Mullane told her daughter. “I had planned to wait to give it to her until Christmas, but I think it’s high time Lizzie heard the story.”

  Lizzie took a deep breath and forced herself to smile politely. She cleared their empty tea cups from the table and took a moment of solace as she quickly washed the few dishes and put them in the strainer on the kitchen counter.

  Each step felt heavier as she made her way back to the dining room. Grandma Mullane had already spread the quilt out on the table. Wonderful. Story time. Lizzie wasn’t a child anymore; she didn’t need to hear stories. Not that some of her grandmothers’ stories weren’t entertaining. However, if they were on the topic of marriage, those stories felt more like a lecture.

  She might as well get this over with. Her grandmothers would both be going to bed in a couple hours, then she could enjoy some quiet time by herself.

  “So, what’s the story behind the quilt?” Lizzie took her seat and watched as Grandma Mullane’s frail fingers traced pieces of fabric on the quilt.

  “It’s a story I’ve only heard once before,” said Grandma Bader. “But I’m going to let her tell you it in peace while I go take a long hot bath before bed.”

  Lucky her, she was able to escape and enjoy some quiet time by herself. Lizzie longed to do the same. Instead, she leaned her arms on the table and waited patiently for Grandma Mullane to begin her story.

  “My father always said my mother spent so much time living in the past and what should have been that she nearly missed out on one of the biggest blessings in her life—me.” Grandma Mullane expelled a deep breath. “My mother was a good woman, but she always had a far-a-way look in her eyes. This quilt,” Grandma said, patting it, “was her memento of her youth. I’m not sure it was a good thing she kept it or not, because she could never fully move on.”

  “Move on from what?” Lizzie wasn’t sure how any of this related to her, but the story intrigued her, and she honestly wanted to find out more.

  “From the demons that haunted her.” Grandma Mullane’s faint smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You see, this quilt was the story of the time she spent at the World’s Fair in 1904, and of the love she never spoke about until she gave me this quilt the month before she died.”

  “So, she was in love with someone else?” Lizzie’s heart ached for Elizabeth. “Why didn’t they get married?”

  “Her father didn’t approve of him. You see, her father was a man of means, and he expected her to marry someone who could adequately provide for her.” Grandma Mullane shrugged, her hand gently brushing across the fabric. “He didn’t think this gentleman, a common laborer, would be a good match.”

  Lizzie’s great-great-great-grandfather may have been looking out for his daughter, but he should have considered her feelings. “Why didn’t they just elope?”

  Grandma Mullane smiled. “They were going to.” Her expression turned somber. “But something happened.”

  Lizzie waited a couple moments in anticipation, expecting her grandmother to continue. When she could take the silence no more, she blurted, “So what happened?

  “At least you are humoring an old lady and her stories.” Her gr
andmother laughed. “Unfortunately, their love story didn’t have a happy ending. When I asked my mother why she didn’t marry him instead of my father, she broke down in tears.” Grandma shrugged her shoulders. “So, I never really got to find out what kept them from getting married. I do know this piece of fabric here…” She pointed to a piece of dark blue fabric in the middle of the flower petals. That was the only piece of fabric that was the same on all three of the flower patterns of the quilt. “That dark blue came from something he wore. My mother placed it there because she said he was at the center of everything in her life.”

  “Uh.” Lizzie sighed. What happened to keep them apart? “Do you know what his name was?”

  Grandma Mullane gazed at the quilt with eyes that seemed to look deep into the past. “His name doesn’t matter.” Grandmother glanced at Lizzie. “The point is, Lizzie, you can’t let the past hold you hostage. You need to move on and find someone, so you don’t make the same mistakes. That boy you were crazy about in college is water under the bridge. Don’t let him keep you from finding someone who will truly make you happy.” Grandma patted her arm. “My mother spent a long time alone. It took her nearly seventeen years before she married my father. He was a widower with two young sons.”

  Lizzie’s throat tightened. Had she let her bad experience with Geoff in college make her critical toward men? She nodded in agreement, unable to produce audible words.

  Lizzie sat numbly, listening to her grandmother as she reminisced and shared the stories concerning the Crazy Quilt and events at the 1904 World’s Fair. She forced herself to ask questions so that she wouldn’t appear to be totally ignoring her grandmother. She really did want to listen intently to the tale, but inner turmoil raged a war with her consciousness.

  After Grandma Mullane finished her story, Lizzie folded the quilt. “I’ll put it away for you.”

  Grandma clasped Lizzie’s hand. Soft, frail fingers gripped her gently. “No, dear.” Grandma patted Lizzie’s hand before placing her own hand back in her lap. “I want you to keep it—it’s yours now.”

  “Oh, Grandma.” Lizzie clutched the quilt to her chest. “Are you sure?”

  Grandma Mullane nodded. “It’s time it was passed down.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lizzie knew she needed to move on and let go of the pain she still harbored from Geoff’s betrayal. She felt a lot like her great-great-grandmother, Elizabeth. She didn’t want to settle for anything less than true love.

  When Lizzie laid down in her grandmother’s spare bedroom, her mind whirled with thoughts of the past, back to the time of her great-great-grandmother in 1904. Lizzie’s own heartache after Geoff’s betrayal was so heart-wrenching, she could sympathize with Elizabeth’s broken heart, and how she’d left behind a quilt that not only told her story but held many secrets. Lizzie wrapped herself in the Crazy Quilt and fell asleep.

  Chapter Two

  “C ome on, Elizabeth. Wake up!”

  “Leave me alone.” Lizzie pushed at the hand shaking her. She blinked several times and lifted to her elbows.

  Two young girls stared at her, smiles beaming from ear to ear.

  Lizzie glanced from the taller of the two, a girl with curly blonde hair and freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose, to the smaller girl who was a curly brunette with a cute button nose. She wore a beautiful pink dress with puffy sleeves, a weird collar with ruffles, and the tie for the dress was at hip level instead of around the waist or underneath the chest. The older girl’s cream-colored dress had a lace collar and was equally outdated, yet they both appeared to be in brand new condition. Lizzie frowned. They looked harmless enough. “What in the world is going on? Who are you?”

  The smaller of the two girls covered her mouth, turned to the other girl, and giggled. “Sissy is being silly.”

  The other put her hands on her hips and stared smugly at Lizzie. “If you think you’re going to get us, you’re not.”

  “Get you?” Lizzie frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s All Fool’s Day.” The older girl crossed her arms in front of her. “You already promised us yesterday that you would take us to see the progress at the World’s Fair. So, it can’t be a joke. You have to take us.”

  “Yeah.” The younger of the two also crossed her arms defiantly. “You have to take us. No pulling pranks on us, Sissy, or I’m going to tell Daddy.”

  Their expressions would be funny—if Lizzie knew who they were and what was going on. “I’m sorry, girls. Honestly, I don’t know who either of you are. And why do you keep referring to me as Sissy?”

  “Because you’re our big sister.” The smaller munchkin put her hands to her hips. “Now stop playing, Elizabeth.”

  “Lizzie, please. Call me Lizzie.” She didn’t have any sisters, though she always wanted them. Instead, she had two older brothers. Lizzie stretched, hoping it would clear her foggy head. As she sat up in bed, the white, eyelet comforter slid down. “Where’s the quilt?” She grasped the cover and tossed it back, looking for the quilt her great-grandmother had given her the night before. It wasn’t here. Her heart beat so hard it pounded in her ears.

  “Your fabric is in the chair, silly.” The older girl pointed to a chair in the corner of the room. “Now, get ready so we can go. You can start working on the quilt you wanted to make tonight after we get back home.” She grabbed the younger girl by the arm. “Come on, Olivia. Let’s go finish setting the table for breakfast while Elizabeth—” She paused and glanced over her shoulder toward her. “I mean Lizzie, gets ready.”

  Lizzie resisted the urge to flop back against her pillow. Either this was an elaborate April Fool’s prank, or she was having the most vivid dream she’d ever had! Great-grandma Mullane had just mentioned the World’s Fair to her last night—so this had to be a dream. She tried to recall what she’d eaten for dinner the night before. “Normally oriental food makes me have weird dreams, but I haven’t had any since Wednesday,” Lizzie muttered to herself as she made her way to the mirror.

  She clasped her arms around herself. “Where are my clothes?” she hollered, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. This wasn’t funny! When she went to bed last night, she had on pajama pants. The thought of someone having changed her into this old-fashioned, cotton nightgown with lace and pink trim made her cheeks grow warm.

  Lizzie ran to the window and looked outside. She was on the second story of a home, surrounded by other homes, much larger than that of her grandmothers’. The few vehicles parked on the road were not modern. They resembled the old-fashioned collectors’ cars she’d seen at the car shows.

  She stormed out of the bedroom she’d woken up in and headed down the stairs toward the sound of voices. In the dining room, she found the two little girls seated at the table. A man wearing a suit sat at one end, and at the other end sat a woman whose dress looked as if it came right out of the movie, Meet Me in St. Louis. Presumably, these were her captors, although a very odd sort.

  Lizzie planted a fist firmly on each hip. “I demand to know what is going on.”

  The man carefully folded his newspaper and laid it aside on the table. “Elizabeth Ruth Ambrewster, don’t you think it was time you stopped teasing your sisters?”

  “My sisters? I don’t have any sisters. And how do you know my name?” She blinked rapidly as dawning set in. “My last name is Peterson, not Ambrewster. That was my great-great-grandmother’s maiden name.”

  The couple frowned as they stared at her.

  Lizzie glanced toward the children to see how they reacted to her revelation. Olivia, as the other girl had called her, eyes glistened as they began to well up with tears.

  She might as well have told the poor child Santa Claus wasn’t real. “I’m sorry,” Lizzie said. “I’ve always wanted a sister, but right now, I feel like someone is playing an elaborate April Fool’s joke on me.”

  “Now, dear, what makes you think such a thing?” the woman at the other end of the table asked. H
er expression turned serious as she glanced back toward the man. “You don’t think she has hit her head and can’t remember things, do you?”

  Lizzie bit her lower lip to keep from laughing at how ludicrous it all sounded. She hadn’t hit her head. “You never answered me.” She mustered up the courage to sound demanding, “How do you know my name and how did I get here?”

  “Enough of this nonsense, Elizabeth. You’re our daughter, so obviously we know your name.” Frown lines creased the man’s forehead. “If you continue behaving this way then… then… I’ll seriously consider having you locked up for being crazy.”

  The woman gasped. “John, you wouldn’t?!”

  His left eyebrow arched. “Well, Rose, if our daughter insists on acting like we are all a bunch of strangers, or worse yet, criminals, then I have no choice.”

  “I’m not crazy,” Lizzie protested. What should she do? She didn’t want to be locked up. Thus far, these people had been hospitable. They acted like they knew her and didn’t appear to be joking—unfortunately—about incarcerating her either.

  Lizzie tried to think of a reason for why this was all happening. If these people had kidnapped her, they had gone to elaborate lengths to do so. Her family wasn’t rich, so it didn’t make sense that anyone would go as far as to rent old-time vehicles.

  Weird food made her dream. Maybe she was hallucinating? She didn’t feel like she was drugged. The room wasn’t swaying. Lizzie pinched her arm. Ouch. That hurt. The only explanation left was she had to be dreaming. Was it possible to feel pain while you were dreaming?

  But what would cause her to have such an obscure dream? Especially if she hadn’t eaten Chinese or anything she could recall that would make her have weird dreams.

  Was this how Dorothy felt in the Wizard of Oz? As long as she didn’t come across any witches, good or bad, she’d let this silly dream play out, and in the morning, she’d wake up in the same bed that she went to sleep in last night—wrapped in her great-great-grandmother’s quilt.