A Stitch in Time

by Susette Williams

  “Sure.” Jeremiah took change out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier. “Can I get two cups of coffee with milk?”

  Milk? Lizzie groaned inwardly. Creamer probably hadn’t been invented yet. She took a seat near the window. Jeremiah carried their cups of coffee to the table, placing one in front of her before sitting in the wooden chair across from her.

  “I didn’t think to bring my purse,” Lizzie said, realizing she’d allowed him to pay for her beverage. This wasn’t a date. He was a friend, helping her. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

  “No need.” He took a sip of his coffee. His eyes remained focused on her the whole time. “A gentleman never allows a lady to pay.”

  Granted, the coffee didn’t cost that much, but it made her feel beholden to him. Why didn’t men like this exist in her timeline? Today, guys often expected something in return if they were paying your way, and they definitely didn’t talk and act as refined. It was one of the few things she’d found enchanting about this era.

  Movement outside the window caught her attention. A middle-aged couple strolled along the sidewalk, the woman holding onto the man’s arm at the elbow. The sight of her pale blue striped dress with little pink and white flowers with green leaves made Lizzie’s breath catch.

  “That’s it,” she muttered, pointing toward the retreating figure.

  Jeremiah turned to look.

  Lizzie stood and hurried out the door in pursuit of the couple. “Ma’am, please wait.”

  The woman glanced over her shoulder, verifying she was the one being summoned.

  To Lizzie’s relief, the woman stopped.

  The man with her looked slightly confused, until he caught sight of Lizzie. “Can we help you?”

  She nodded. “Your dress. I need that fabric.”

  “I beg your pardon?” The woman’s eyes widened as her hand flew to her chest.

  “I’m sorry.” Lizzie giggled at how her words must have sounded to the lady. “I’m making a very important quilt and I need to find that fabric to use. Can you tell me where you got your dress, or the fabric if it was handmade?”

  “It was a gift from my sister,” the woman said. “She ordered it from a catalogue.”

  Jeremiah had joined them, nodding to the man when he approached.

  “Do you know what catalogue?” There could be dozens of catalogues. How would she know which one? “Or even if you could tell me the name of the store that carries the dress?”

  The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry. My sister is visiting relatives in London.”

  “Can you call her?” Lizzie’s voice squeaked.

  “I’m afraid not, dear.” The woman frowned. “While we do have a telephone, we don’t have the ability to call overseas.”

  “When will she be back?” Panic gripped her heart tighter than a vice grip.

  “We don’t expect her back for a couple of months,” the man informed Lizzie. “I’m sorry that we’re not able to help you.”

  They turned to go.

  Lizzie reached out, grabbing the woman’s arm firmer than she’d intended. “Please, can I buy the dress from you? Anything? I really need that material.”

  “Please unhand my wife, or I’ll be forced to call the constable.”

  “I’m sorry. I assure you that won’t be necessary.” Jeremiah wrapped his arm around Lizzie’s waist and urged her to move away from the couple. “Come on, Lizzie. We’ll figure something out.”

  As her hand loosened her grip on the woman’s arm, Lizzie felt her chances of creating the exact same quilt slipping out of her grasp as well. She had to get home—she just had to!

  Chapter Twelve

  M onday morning after breakfast, and Father had gone to work, Lizzie and Jeremiah set off on foot to find the fabric for the quilt at what Jeremiah referred to as a dry goods store. Given the past didn’t have modern refrigeration, it made sense to refer to a store as something quirky as that.

  “I get the feeling your parents don’t like me.”

  Expelling a long breath, Lizzie shook her head. She had omitted telling Father that Jeremiah would be escorting her today. The look of disapproval Mother gave that morning when Jeremiah showed up at their home was confirmation enough that she’d done the right thing by not telling Father. It wasn’t as if she and Jeremiah were planning to run away and get married…

  Lizzie’s heart pounded, and her ears rang. Her head jerked toward Jeremiah. “It’s you.”

  “Me?” Jeremiah’s narrowed. He frowned. “What did I do wrong? I’d be happy to apologize.”

  She grinned.

  “Are you laughing at me?” He stopped in his tracks. His cheeks reddened. “I don’t know why you find this all amusing.”

  “I’m not laughing at you.” Lizzie tried to hide her smile. “I just remembered something my great-grandmother said to me.” It was Lizzie’s turn for her cheeks to turn red.

  “Now you’re embarrassed.” Jeremiah took a step closer and tilted her chin up. His chocolate-brown eyes searched hers. “What did your great-grandmother say?”

  “I…,” Lizzie stammered. “I remembered one of the fabrics, it was dark blue. Like your uniform.”

  Jeremiah smiled. “So, you’re saying I was important to her?”

  Her, being her great-great-grandmother, yes. But he was vastly becoming important to Lizzie too. It was easy to get lost in the depth of his gaze. She moistened her lips and tried to swallow. “Yes. However, something happened to come between them.”

  He grimaced. “Like she went back to the future and left him all alone?”

  “No.” She nervously shook her head. “All I know is, something came between them and she was heartbroken. She later married someone else.”

  “I can’t imagine anything coming between us…other than your father.”

  Lizzie’s eyes felt weighted by sadness. “Surely he could see that his daughter’s happiness is more important than whether or not her boyfriend has a college degree?”

  A smile crept upon his lips. “So, I’m your boyfriend now?”

  She playfully punched his arm.

  His eyes widened in surprise as he laughed. “You hit me.”

  “Be nice, or I’ll do it again.” Lizzie turned to walk away so he wouldn’t see her grinning from ear-to-ear. She felt like a silly schoolgirl.

  “Well, with an attitude like that, I may not be willing to give you the fabric for your quilt.”

  Pausing in her steps, she swiveled to look at him, relaxing slightly when she was the playful look on his face. “Perhaps you have a co-worker, whom I might be able to persuade.”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “It won’t work. You said yourself, she used the fabric from someone she was in love with.”

  It would serve him right if she wiped that smug look off of his face, but he was right, and she was falling for him.

  Another thought haunted her. What if she were the reason her great-great-grandmother didn’t get married to him? How she wished she knew the whole story.

  Friday evening, Lizzie met Ruth at the train station as promised. Ruth exerted the same bubbly and fun personality traits as her brother. She even had the same dark brown hair, playful brown eyes, and cute narrow nose. The teen stood at least two inches shorter than Lizzie. Clutched in her hands was a rugged, rustic brown trunk that had seen better days. It reminded Lizzie of a smaller trunk she’d kept valuables locked away in at college, except this one was old, with leather straps.

  “That must be heavy?” Lizzie nodded toward the case. “Too bad it doesn’t have wheels on it.”

  “You and your ideas.” Jeremiah chuckled. “I’m curious though, how did you get your father to agree to let Ruth come spend the weekend with you?”

  “I told him since he was uncomfortable with our friendship, then perhaps it would be better if I spent time with your sister instead. Plus, she was willing to teach me how to sew, and he thought that was a good idea.” Lizzie smirked. “Seems he could be persuaded that it may
be a trait one might want to use in the future, should they wish to marry.”

  Lizzie omitted the part of the conversation with her father that entailed his questioning that those intentions had nothing to do with Jeremiah. That discussion was a battle for another day.

  “Anyhow, Father is waiting in the car.” Lizzie bit her lower lip. “Ruth and I should join him.”

  The look of dejection on Jeremiah’s face made Lizzie’s heart ache.

  “I understand.” Always the gentleman, Jeremiah didn’t voice his disappointment. His eyes brightened a little. “I do have a gift for you.”

  “You do?” Lizzie asked.

  Ruth beamed, nodding in agreement.

  A corner of Jeremiah’s lifted. “My sister will give it to you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Lizzie sulked. “Why do I have to wait?”

  “Same thing I asked myself.” Jeremiah laughed heartily. “But as they say, good things come to those who wait.”

  Saturday morning, Mary Margaret and Olivia insisted on needing to learn to sew. Ruth was a good sport and said she would be happy to teach them as well. Mother said she was going to read in the sitting room while she listened to music and for the girls to have fun.

  Not that sewing was on Lizzie’s list of enjoyable things to do, she was excited to spend time with Jeremiah’s sister. Ruth possessed a naïve innocence that Lizzie treasured. The past held a certain wonder and excitement, even if there were fewer things to do without the convenience of electronics. Getting accustomed to the phonograph and outdated music took some time. The lyrics reflected the virtue of the era, especially when the top song from the previous year was In the Good Old Summer Time. It amazed Lizzie how many songs had trees in them.

  “I can’t wait to see what Jeremiah’s surprise is,” Lizzie whispered next to Ruth’s ear as she and the girls headed to Lizzie’s room.

  Squeals of excitement bubbled out of Ruth. She grabbed the small trunk of her belongings and hoisted it on Lizzie’s bed. Ruth sneakily reached into it and pulled out what appeared to be a magazine.

  Lizzie stared at it, slowly reaching out to take it from Ruth. “What’s this?”

  “Jeremiah said you wanted to look through it for fabrics.” Ruth sighed and reached into her trunk again. “Perhaps you’ll like this better?” She handed Lizzie a pair of Jeremiah’s work trousers. “He caught them on something and they have a small rip, but that’ll be find since we were going to have to cut them up for the quilt anyway.”

  “They’re perfect.” Lizzie beamed, grabbing the trousers from Ruth and clutching them to her chest. “Now I just have to find the other five fabrics.”

  During the next two hours, Ruth helped Lizzie design the flower pattern she needed for the quilt. They cut out sample pieces to use as a guide to cut the shapes she needed once she found the remaining fabric.

  Finally came the time to learn to actually sew. Mary Margaret and Olivia anxiously held their fabric swatches in their tiny hands.

  “Now you want to be very careful,” Ruth instructed them. “The needle is very sharp, and you don’t want to poke yourself.” She pointed to the tip of the needle, then she explained how to thread the needle and tie a knot in the end. “You want to put the right side of the fabric together so that you actually sew the back side of the material.”

  “How do you know which is the right side?” Olivia asked, flipping the fabric back and forth.

  Ruth gave a lopsided grin, remaining patient as she was amused with her young, captive audience. “See this side?”

  The girls nodded. So, did Lizzie.

  “The color of the fabric isn’t as vibrant on the back side of the material as it is on the front side.”

  Given they were working with samples of white material, it was harder to tell.

  Ruth must have sensed their confusion. She set her fabric samples on the bed and turned up the end of her peach floral dress. “Here, maybe you can tell better by looking at a print fabric.”

  Sure enough, the underside of her dress was lighter. Lizzie turned her dress up and looked at the other side. She laughed when her sisters did the same.

  “Thank you for all of your help and patience in explaining this to us, Ruth.” She hugged Jeremiah’s sister. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  “It’s fine,” Ruth said. “I’m happy to help. In fact, I’m thinking of entering a quilt in the contest at the World’s Fair too.”

  By the time Ruthie left Monday morning, Lizzie felt she had a good grasp on how to stitch two pieces of fabric together, and then add the next piece, and so on, until she had a complete quilt square.

  Ruth promised she’d come back again to help Lizzie when she was ready to assemble the pieces—provided Lizzie could find the fabrics she needed. If she didn’t, she might never make it back home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  May 1904

  L izzie and Jeremiah had worked out a routine. She would take a walk around the time Jeremiah’s train came through the Warrensburg Train Depot so that she could see him a few brief minutes. Then on his days off, Ruth sometimes tagged along so that Lizzie’s father wouldn’t suspect anything. Ruth may not have started out as Lizzie’s friend, but she’d quickly become one.

  The Tuesday after Mother’s Day, Jeremiah gave Lizzie another catalogue when she came to see him.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled at her, holding her gaze captive by his mesmerizing brown eyes. “How did your mother like her present?”

  “She was a little confused as to why I was giving her a gift when it wasn’t her birthday or Christmas.” How was Lizzie to know they didn’t celebrate Mother’s Day yet? “But she definitely loved the dragonfly brooch you gave me to give her.” Sadness weighed heavily on her heart. “I wish I could have told her that it was from you.”

  “It was from both of us.” Jeremiah playfully tipped the end of her nose with his finger. “And one day, we’ll be able to tell her. After we convince your parents I’m not a bad sort.”

  Lizzie smiled. “That you’re not.”

  The train whistle blew, signaling it would be departing soon.

  “I hate saying goodbye.”

  “Me too.” Lizzie hugged the catalogue to her chest and looked wistfully away. “Even though we did just get to spend yesterday together.”

  Movement caught her attention as Jeremiah quickly kissed her cheek, her turning her head caused his lips to brush hers instead. For a moment, he lingered. “I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow.”

  She nodded, afraid to trust her words.

  With a wave, Jeremiah retreated up the steps and back to work.

  Lizzie sighed. In a daze, she walked home. When she went inside, she heard chatter coming from the parlor. She followed the sound of the voices. “Lillian?”

  “Hello, Lizzie.” Lillian stood to face her.

  “How are you?” Lizzie asked. She’d seen the girl two days ago at church, so why was she here?

  “Well…” Lillian bit her lower lip and looked at Mother.

  “Come have a seat, Lizzie.” Mother patted the seat next to her on the sofa.

  She did as she was instructed, smoothing out her dress as she sat, then she folded her hands in her lap. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was being cornered. Otherwise, it was some sort of intervention.

  Mother’s features were soft, yet firm as she locked eyes with Lizzie. “You’ve been rather preoccupied lately. In fact, your father and I were under the impression that you’d been spending time with Lillian lately.”

  Lizzie shrugged. When possible, she avoided saying whom she was spending time with, if anyone.

  “Lillian has been your friend for a very long time and she misses you.”

  How could she tell them that she really didn’t know Lillian?

  Olivia poked an inquisitive tilted, head around the parlor doorway, her tiny hand holding on to the white wooden trim. “May I come in?”

&n
bsp; “Not now,” Mother said, giving her a stern look.

  A frown formed on Olivia’s face, before alarm registered in her wide eyes as she lost her balance and tumbled to the floor.

  Everyone giggled once they realized Olivia wasn’t hurt.

  Lizzie’s jaw slumped. “Your dress.”

  Olivia looked at her dress. “Is it ripped?”

  “No. Your dress is fine.” Lizzie shook her head. “The fabric, that’s exactly what I need for my quilt.”

  To her surprise, Olivia shook her head vehemently. “You’re not cutting up my dress.”

  “I…,” Lizzie stammered. How did you convince a five-year-old the importance of sacrifice? Olivia would never agree to it if she knew it was so Lizzie could get back home.

  “Now, you know that I told you earlier that this is the last time you can wear that dress,” Mother said. “It’s getting too short. Look.” Mother pointed. “I can start to see your knees.”

  Her sister leaned forward to look, which made her dress look longer when she bent over.

  Lizzie wanted to smile, but she was more anxious in what Mother had to say. She’d been here a month and a half, and other than the background fabric, including the dark blue needed for the center of the flowers, Lizzie hadn’t been able to acquire any of the material needed for the petals.

  “It is rather short,” Lizzie said. It wasn’t a lie, she told herself. For the early 1900s, it was short. “Mother, do you think I could use her dress to make my quilt?”

  “I’m making a quilt, too.” Lillian’s sounded excited and bubbly.

  Some mornings, there wasn’t enough coffee to deal with perky people.

  “Maybe we can work on ours together?” Lillian suggested.

  The proverbial shoe dropped. Lillian’s complaining to Mother about Lizzie not spending time with her, and Lillian zeroing in on her opportunity.

  What could Lizzie say?

  Working with Lillian meant she’d have someone to help her, but it also meant she might be discovered for who she really was. Best friends knew those kind of things—didn’t they?