Morgan fixed herself a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk, which she took to the living room to eat in front of the TV. Normally, this wasn’t allowed, but since Mom was gone and Grandma was asleep, who would know? She turned on the TV, going to the Disney channel, but the show playing, of course, was about a ski trip. Morgan turned off the TV and ate her sandwich in silence. All she could think was that, right now, Emily was with Chelsea, having the time of her life. She was enjoying a fancy dinner in a ski lodge, complete with live music — how could Morgan ever compete with something like that?
“What are you doing, Morgan?” asked Grandma as she came out of her bedroom.
“Oh …” Morgan looked up with a guilty expression. “I was all alone and hungry … and I just thought —”
“I’m sorry,” said Grandma as she looked at the clock on the wall. “I had no idea it was so late. I thought I’d take a little rest. Goodness, what happened to the time?”
“It looks like you were busy today,” said Morgan as she polished off the last of her milk. “Sorry I wasn’t around to help.”
“Oh, that’s all right.”
Morgan followed Grandma into the kitchen. But it seemed like Grandma was moving slower than usual. “Are you okay?” Morgan asked her.
Grandma turned and looked at her. “Well, yes … just tired, I guess …” She smiled. “Getting old.”
“Anything I can help you with?” offered Morgan.
“Not tonight … but I might take you up on that tomorrow. Did you get enough to eat, dear?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Then Morgan sat on the kitchen stool and watched as Grandma put a bowl of soup into the microwave.
“Are you still feeling badly about Emily not being here for Thanksgiving?”
Morgan shrugged. “I’m okay.” She’d already confessed some of her sadness to Grandma, but now she wanted to pretend like it wasn’t such a big deal.
“Have you tried out the sock pattern with the tiger stripes yet?” Grandma sat down on the stool opposite Morgan and dipped her spoon into the soup she’d just heated. “I found some other nice remnants of polar fleece the other day. I think there might be enough for several pairs of socks.”
“I haven’t tried the pattern yet,” admitted Morgan. “I’d been hoping that Emily and I could work on it tomorrow and into the weekend … but that’s not going to happen.”
“Maybe you and I could work on it together,” offered Grandma.
“Sure,” said Morgan. And she knew it was nice of Grandma to want to help and she didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but it just wouldn’t be the same as having Emily here.
The next morning, Morgan did what she could to help Grandma in the kitchen. But with Mom home, it seemed more like Morgan was in the way. And then when Mr. Greeley and Emily’s family came, all Morgan could think was that it wasn’t fair that Emily wasn’t here. She tried to be polite during dinner, but all she wanted to do was to get away from these people. It was all wrong. Finally, as everyone was taking a break before dessert, Morgan excused herself.
“I think I’ll take a walk,” she said.
“Right now?” said Mom with a creased brow. “It’s raining like the dickens out there.”
“I’ll wear my rain slicker.” And then Morgan made a quick exit. But Mom was right; it was really coming down hard. Soon Morgan found herself unlocking the door to the clubhouse. She turned on the heater and the string of lights and proceeded to make herself at home. She tried not to think about what Emily and Chelsea were doing right now. But it was like telling herself not to think about pink elephants — the more she tried to push it from her mind, the more obsessed she became. Since it was raining down here, it was probably snowing up there. Snow sure seemed a lot nicer than rain. She wondered if Emily was wearing Chelsea’s Tommy Hilfiger outfit. Were they having a great time riding down the mountain together? Was Emily as good as Chelsea? Or maybe she was better. Morgan remembered Emily’s promise to give Morgan lessons on Kyle’s skateboard, but that hadn’t happened yet. Finally, Morgan was sick and tired of thinking about Emily and Chelsea. Maybe being stuck at home with her family and Emily’s and even Mr. Greeley would be better than this!
Besides, Morgan told herself as she jogged back through the rain, she could start making polar socks. If she set her mind to it, she might even have several pairs finished by the end of the day. She wondered how many pairs it would take to make fifty dollars — five pairs if she charged ten for each pair, but that seemed a little steep.
“You’re back,” said Mom as Morgan burst in out of the rain.
“Yeah, it’s pretty wet out there.”
“Well, Mr. Greeley and Lisa and Kyle just left.”
“Did they already have dessert?”
“Yes, and everyone was starting to act sleepy. I think they all went home to take a nap.”
“That sounds good to me,” said Grandma.
“Yes,” said Mom. “You go and have a rest. Morgan and I will clean up in here.”
Morgan wanted to protest this idea, but knew that would be selfish … especially since she hadn’t helped much to get things ready. So she rolled up her sleeves and helped Mom to put the kitchen back in order.
“Grandma said that you were missing Emily,” said Mom as she handed Morgan a pan to dry.
Morgan just shrugged. “I guess …”
“Lisa said that Emily had been so thrilled to go, Morgan. You know life hasn’t been exactly easy for them this past year. Emily has been through a lot. Really, you should be happy for her.”
Morgan forced a smile. “Okay, I am happy for her. I guess I’m just sad for me.”
Mom laughed and gave Morgan a little hug. “Well, at least that’s honest.”
“And I’m worried,” confessed Morgan.
“About what?”
“Well, what if Emily and Chelsea become best friends?”
“I suppose that could happen …” Mom handed Morgan a pie tin to dry. “At least you have several good friends, Morgan. There’s Carlie and Amy still.”
“I know … but Emily is my best friend.”
“Then my guess is that she will continue to be your best friend.”
“I hope so.”
“Morgan …” Mom had a slightly worried expression now.
“What?”
“Well, I’m concerned about your grandma.”
“Why?”
“She hasn’t been feeling well lately. She’s very tired and … and it seems like she’s just not herself.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I’m encouraging her to see the doctor, but she thinks it’s just old age.”
“How old is Grandma anyway?”
“Not that old. She’s not even seventy yet.”
“Oh.” Morgan didn’t want to admit it, but that seemed pretty old.
“Anyway, until we can get her to go to the doctor, I want both of us to help out more around here. Are you okay with that?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe we can take turns fixing dinner,” said Mom.
Morgan made a face. “But we’re not as good at cooking as Grandma.”
“I know. But that might be because we never get the chance to practice.”
“But Grandma loves to cook.”
“Well, we can help with other things too. You’re old enough to do your own laundry. And I can start doing some of the grocery shopping.”
Morgan studied Mom for a moment. “Do you really think she’s sick?”
Mom just shook her head. “I don’t know.”
So when Morgan went to bed on Thanksgiving night, she had two things to worry about — losing her best friend, and her grandmother’s health. But instead of worrying, Morgan did something better. She prayed.
chapter five
When Morgan got up on the day after Thanksgiving, she discovered Grandma sitting at the kitchen table with her sewing basket and a small pile of colorful polar fleece. “Good morning,” said
Grandma brightly.
“Good morning.” Morgan eyed the fleece. “Is that for making socks?”
“Yes. I thought you and I could work on it together. Your mom already went to open up her shop early. You know what they say about today.”
“Black Friday?” asked Morgan.
Grandma chuckled. “Yes, the biggest shopping day of the year.”
“I wish I had thought about that sooner,” said Morgan. “I could’ve had some socks all made up to sell in Mom’s shop today.”
“Oh, well,” said Grandma. “No use crying over spilt milk.”
“Did you have breakfast already?” asked Morgan.
Grandma smiled sheepishly. “Well, I wasn’t very hungry after all that feasting yesterday. I had pumpkin pie and coffee. Are you hungry?” Grandma started to get up.
“No,” said Morgan quickly. “I just want cold cereal. I can get it.”
Grandma held up the paper pattern. “I’ve been reading the instructions. I see that we use this pattern as a model to create several other patterns in various sizes.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Morgan as she filled a bowl with Cheer-ios. “I never even thought about sizes.”
“Apparently somebody else did. While you’re up, do you want to get me that roll of butcher paper out of the drawer?”
Morgan found the paper and handed it to Grandma, then sat down across from her and began eating cereal.
“I’ll just trace these out on the paper,” said Grandma as she adjusted her glasses. “You can cut them.”
By noon they had all the patterns cut, and Morgan was just getting ready to cut out the fabric when Grandma seemed to grow weary. “Why don’t you go have a rest,” said Morgan. “I can work on these.”
“I do feel tired,” said Grandma.
Morgan stood up now. “Come on,” she urged as she helped Grandma up. “You have a little nap and then you can help me later, okay?”
“You and Cleo,” said Grandma. “You’re treating me like an old lady.”
“Because we love you,” said Morgan.
Grandma laughed as she walked, but Morgan also noticed that she put her hand on the counter to balance herself. That was not like her.
“Come on, Grandma,” said Morgan as she took her by the arm. “Let me walk with you.”
“I do feel a little unsteady sometimes,” admitted Grandma. “A little light-headed when I stand up.”
“Mom said you need to go to the doctor,” said Morgan as she walked her to her bedroom.
“Oh, I don’t know about —”
“And while you’re resting, I’m going to call Dr. Ballister and make an appointment for you.”
“Oh, you are, are you?” Grandma peered at Morgan.
“Isn’t that what you would do for me if I was feeling sick?”
Grandma chuckled as Morgan helped her to her bed. “You’re growing up too fast, Morgan. It seems like only yesterday that I was putting you down for a nap … now you’re doing the same to me.”
Morgan laid Grandma’s crocheted afghan over her legs. “Just rest, Grandma. I’ll see if I can get you an appointment for next week. Okay?”
“Whatever you say, dear.”
So Morgan closed the door behind her and went out and looked up Dr. Ballister’s phone number. She explained the concerns they had about Grandma as well as the symptoms of tiredness and dizziness and the nurse made an appointment for the following Tuesday. Morgan wrote down the time and date, thanked her, and hung up.
Morgan returned to the kitchen, and instead of going back to her sewing project, she cleaned up the breakfast dishes, washed out the coffee pot, and then went back to cutting out socks. She realized right away that it would be important to pin the pieces together so that the sizes didn’t get mixed up. She also made some mistakes with cutting the fabric with the wrong side out. But finally, she had what appeared to be eight pairs of socks, in various sizes, ready to sew together. It really didn’t seem too complicated.
“How’s it going?” asked Grandma as Morgan was setting up her sewing machine.
“You’re up from your nap,” said Morgan. “Feeling better?”
“I can hardly believe I slept so long. Do you know that it’s after one already?”
Morgan showed her how many pairs of socks she cut out. “I was just about to sew up this first pair. They’re my size, so I thought I could test them out to make sure I’m doing it right.”
“Good thinking. And don’t forget to use the knit stitch. It takes longer, but it’s the only way you can sew a stretchy fabric like that fleece without having the seams pop open.”
“I know,” said Morgan. “I just wish it wasn’t such a slow way to sew.”
“Better slowly than holey.”
Morgan laughed as she changed the stitch setting. “Some people might like ‘holy’ socks.”
“Not ones with holes in them. And while you’re doing that, I’ll go put us together some lunch. We have some fine-looking turkey leftovers.”
“Sounds yummy.”
By the time Grandma called her to lunch, Morgan had one sock completely finished in the tiger design. She proudly took it in to show Grandma.
“It looks fine, Morgan. Did it fit okay?”
“I haven’t tried it yet.” Morgan sat down in a chair in the living room and peeled off her shoe and sock. “I guess it doesn’t matter which foot I put it on, does it?”
“Not for socks, dear.”
“Ugh,” groaned Morgan as she tried to force her foot into the sock. “This is not working … not at all.”
“Let me see,” said Grandma.
Morgan handed her the sock. “It doesn’t stretch, you know, to go over my foot. It’s too tight.”
Grandma examined the sock and finally nodded. “I see what’s wrong.”
“What?”
Grandma stretched the fabric. “See?”
“What?”
“The stretch is going the wrong way. You need to cut them out so that the stretch goes widthwise. This one goes lengthwise. That’s why you couldn’t get your foot into it.”
“Oh no,” said Morgan. “I never thought about that when I cut out the other socks. What if they’re all wrong?”
“I doubt that they’ll all be wrong, dear.”
“But some of them will be.”
“At least it was only remnant fabric,” said Grandma. “Come and have some lunch, and we’ll figure it out later.”
“I can’t believe I was so stupid,” said Morgan as she sat down at the kitchen table. “You’ve told me about the grain of the fabric before.”
After lunch, they went to Morgan’s room to see what could be done about the sock dilemma. Morgan held up a pair of cut-out socks that were neatly pinned together. “I thought I was being so careful,” she said, “and all I did was mess things up.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I probably would’ve done the same thing. I’ve knit socks before, but making them out of fabric is new to me too.” Grandma sat on Morgan’s bed and examined the pieces that she had cut out, separating into two piles the ones that were going the right way from the ones that were going the wrong way. But the wrong-way pile was getting bigger and bigger.
“This is hopeless,” said Morgan as she flopped down into her beanbag chair.
Grandma chuckled. “Well, it looks like you have two pairs that are cut in the right direction.”
“All that work for just two pairs of socks,” said Morgan sadly. “And I haven’t even sewn them yet.”
“Just consider it a learning experience.”
“But what about all the fabric I wasted?” Morgan looked at the big pile of colorful pieces.
Grandma smiled. “Well, don’t throw these away. I think I might be able to piece them together for a quilt.”
“A sock quilt?”
Grandma laughed. “Maybe so … maybe so …”
“I guess I should be glad that Emily isn’t here.”
“Why’s that, dear?”
“Because she’d probably think I was an idiot to waste all this time and fabric to produce just two pairs of socks.”
“You haven’t even produced those yet,” Grandma reminded her. “Why don’t you sew them up and see how it goes. Then maybe we can make a trip to the fabric store and get some more polar fleece fabric. They’re having a big sale today.”
“You want to go shopping on Black Friday?”
Grandma patted her on the head. “If it’ll help get you out of these doldrums, I do.” Then she winked at Morgan. “Besides, you know me, I’m always happy to go to the fabric store.”
So Morgan sewed up the socks and was surprised that it didn’t take as long as she thought it would. She even tried a pair on — the ones with red and white stripes — and they fit perfectly. She proudly modeled them for Grandma.
“How do they feel?”
“Great. I think I’ll keep them.” Then Morgan looked at the other pair. They were soft pastel colors. “Hey, these are your size, Grandma. Why don’t you try them on?”
“Oh, I don’t want to —”
“Come on,” said Morgan. “Just try them.”
So Grandma slipped off her slippers and pulled on the fuzzy socks. “Very nice,” she said, pointing a toe.
“They’re for you,” proclaimed Morgan.
“Thank you very much.”
Then Grandma and Morgan went to the fabric store. Morgan only had twelve dollars of her own money, but Grandma offered to help out. “Look at all these colors,” said Morgan as they walked down the aisle of polar fleece fabric. “I don’t know how I’ll decide.” But before long, Morgan had picked out a stack of bolts. Grandma helped her to figure out the yardage, and according to their estimates, Morgan would be able to make about thirty pairs of socks when she was all done. “That’s if I don’t cut them wrong,” said Morgan as they went out to the car.
“I think today’s lesson will take care of that.”
Raising Faith Page 4