Sister's Choice

by Judith Pella

  “Will you defend my son to the best of your ability?”

  “If I took the case, I would.” Now his voice held confidence.

  “I should like to hire you, then.”

  “You should give it a few days to ensure your lawyer receives the letter of release.”

  “I hate to wait that long,” Mrs. Donnelly said. She had been holding up well during the visit, but now her lips trembled. “Tommy dearly hates to be locked up. It has been so long already. I would go into Portland myself, but it is the middle of harvest, and even though my neighbors are helping out, I need to be at the farm.”

  “I will go into Portland and speak with your lawyer—Mr.Werth, isn’t it?” Evan asked.

  “You would do that?” Tears welled up in Mrs. Donnelly’s eyes.

  “A good lawyer does everything he can for his clients.”

  “Then you will take Tommy’s case?”

  “I will.” Evan looked a little surprised himself about his decision.

  Mrs. Donnelly took both his hands into hers. “Thank you so much!” She gave Evan the letter she had yet to post so that he could deliver it to Portland personally.

  When Mrs. Donnelly was ready to take her leave, Maggie told her to go on ahead, for she wanted to speak with Evan a moment longer.

  Sensing perhaps this would not be a conversation they would wish to have in the parlor with his mother near, Evan suggested they take a walk. “I am in need of exercise,” he said for his mother’s benefit.

  Maggie noted mother and son exchange a look that implied deeper meaning.

  “Now, Evan,” Mrs. Parker said, “you needn’t worry about your lack of industry. This is a vacation for you before you return to your real work in Boston.”

  “I still need exercise for the sake of a fit constitution,” Evan rejoined.

  “Oh, you are too young to worry about such things, but take your walk, if you must.” Mrs. Parker rose and then turned to Maggie. “I should get back to my sewing. Maggie, you must tell your mother that I am almost finished piecing an entire quilt top on my new sewing machine. I hope to bring it to the Sewing Circle on Sunday to show.”

  “I’ll tell her, Mrs. Parker.” But Maggie would do no such thing. The last thing she wanted was to get in between the two rivals.

  She and Evan went outside. Maggie had been so busy that day she’d barely noticed what a fine September day it was. It was the middle of the month and summer was still holding on, but leaves were already starting to turn on some of the trees.

  Evan suggested he walk her home, so they headed in that direction, taking a shortcut from the edge of town, where the Parker house was located, over a back road that wound between the Briggs’ place and the Lamberts’ farm.

  “I might do Mrs. Donnelly more good if I helped her with her farm,” Evan commented.

  “I didn’t think you were much of a farmer.”

  “And I never will be if my parents have their way,” he replied with emotion. “They are appalled that I would even consider giving up the law. They won’t let me work at the mill. My father is probably the only man on earth who is less than thrilled at the prospect of his son following him in business. Mother continues to hang on to the hope that I’ll return to the influential Boston job.”

  “They put a lot into your education and don’t want to see it wasted.”

  “Maggie, I just took upon myself a case in which a young man’s life is in my hands. I don’t know if I am up to the challenge.”

  “You are, Evan.”

  “How do you know? You don’t even know me.”

  “I think Mrs. Donnelly saw, as I do, that there is more to you than meets the eye and more than you want others to see. You can’t let yourself be stopped by fear.”

  “I’d guess you have never been afraid of anything in your life.” He arched a brow when she started to protest.

  She shrugged. “I don’t think about it much. Maybe that’s your problem. You think about things so much you get worked up into a lather over it.”

  “Yes, that describes me to a tee.” He chuckled wryly. “Maggie, why don’t you help me with the trial?”

  “Me? What could I do?”

  “In the Boston law office there were clerks who did research and other kinds of footwork required during a trial. I clerked there during my schooling. If there is one thing I am sure about, it is that I will need a clerk for this case.”

  “Could I do that and still be a witness?”

  “Why would you be a witness?”

  Maggie realized she might have said too much. She had not thought whether or not she would reveal to Evan what Tommy had told her before his father’s death. Maybe she should worry more about things like Evan did. Perhaps then she wouldn’t be caught by surprise.

  “Well,” she replied, “to witness as a friend. To tell people what a good person Tommy is.”

  “A character witness,” he said. “I will have those, but I wouldn’t call a young woman unless absolutely necessary.”

  She might have argued the point. She was slightly insulted that because she was a young woman her testimony might not be valued. But she decided to accept it as a reprieve for now, though she would soon have to make up her mind about what exactly to tell Evan about Tommy.

  Changing the subject seemed her safest move. “Evan, I wanted to tell you that we are going to have a party next Saturday. And this one will be fun—I mean . . .” She fumbled, realizing the implied insult of her words. The last party had been at his house. “That is, there will be dancing. You and Tamara can dance, and Colby and I—” She stopped upon seeing he’d suddenly gone pale. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t go!” he blurted, almost desperately.

  “What do you mean? I’m planning this party for us, for our causes, you know.”

  “It doesn’t matter if I’m not there, does it?” He fumbled with his spectacles, nearly knocking them off his face.

  “Yes, it does matter. You have to be there. You will keep Tamara occupied while I keep Colby occupied. Don’t you get it?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm in her tone. Was she pinning her hopes on a dullard?

  He let out a sharp, frustrated breath. “I can’t dance!” he admitted.

  Somehow his statement didn’t really surprise her. “There must have been parties in Boston. What did you do then?”

  “I didn’t go.”

  “Even when Tamara was there?”

  “There were a couple parties when she came to visit. I . . . uh . . . managed to find some excuse or other to bow out. Once I feigned an injured foot.”

  “No wonder she didn’t fall passionately in love with you! She probably thought you didn’t want to dance with her. That tends to put a girl off.”

  “So would crushing her delicate toes under mine.”

  She nodded with a wry smile. “Yes, I can see your point. Well, I’ll just have to teach you to dance.”

  “In one day?”

  “The party isn’t tomorrow,” Maggie said patiently. “It is next Saturday.”

  He gave her a look that meant, “So what does it matter?”

  “Even you can learn to dance in a week,” she said confidently.

  ELEVEN

  The next day, Tamara came to the Newcombs’ for her sewing lesson. She was dressed prettily in a day dress of pink, printed with little red flowers. It was nice enough to be a party dress. And Maggie was in overalls! She had completely forgotten her resolve to dress for company, but then she hadn’t really considered this a company occasion. If she dressed for Tamara’s visits, she was going to have to dress up all the time!

  Maggie had finished her nine-patch block. The browns and golds she’d chosen complemented the red nicely. The block had turned out well. It was actually square! And no puckers, either.

  Would Tamara begin her lesson with a nine-patch? If so, Maggie was ahead of her right from the start. She tried to convince herself this wasn’t a competition, but it was hard not to think of it in that way. Grand
ma did tell Tamara her first block would be a nine-patch. She asked Maggie to show hers, and Tamara was very complimentary of it.

  “What will I do next, Grandma?” Maggie asked.

  “A log cabin.”

  Maggie groaned. She had been hoping to finally do something more intricate.

  “The log cabin may seem easy,” Grandma explained, “but this is a pattern in which you must sew a very uniform seam. Because the log cabin has so many pieces, any variation will show. You must learn to make a uniform quarter-inch seam before you move on to more intricate patterns.”

  “I love your colors, Maggie,” Tamara said. “Mrs. Stoddard let me choose some of her scraps to use in my project.”

  “Let’s see them,” Maggie said.

  Maggie wasn’t surprised when Tamara took from her basket some fabrics in pastel colors—pink, lavender, pale blue, buttery yellow, all very feminine.

  “You are welcome to look in my scrap box, as well,” Mama offered, calling from the kitchen, where she was washing up after breakfast. Usually Mama left during the sewing lessons, but no doubt she was staying around to be sociable toward Tamara.

  “This is very exciting,” Grandma said. “You are both going to make the same quilt, but since you are using such different colors, they will each be unique.”

  “The same quilt?” Maggie couldn’t help the disappointment in her voice. It was bad enough that she’d been roped into sharing her sewing lessons; now there would be nothing special about her quilt.

  “Trust me, Maggie,” Grandma assured her, “they will look like two completely different quilts. And, as you become more proficient, perhaps I will let you choose different blocks that more suit your tastes. How is that?”

  Maggie nodded, not entirely convinced but determined to stick with her promise not to argue. When Grandma made her next suggestion, that Maggie actually teach Tamara the nine-patch, Maggie just shrugged and accepted her fate. Grandma said teaching others was the best way to learn.

  They chatted while they sewed, just like the women in Mama’s Sewing Circle.

  “I understand you are from Portland, Tamara,” Grandma said.

  “Yes. My father is a doctor.”

  “And what do you enjoy doing besides sewing?”

  “I hope I will enjoy sewing,” Tamara replied. “I’ve only done some needlepoint. I keep busy practicing my music.”

  “You should hear her, Grandma,” Maggie said. “She plays the violin really well. I mean, as far as I can tell. I don’t know much about music. And she plays the piano. But no one around here plays the violin like she does.”

  “Mrs. Stoddard says she is saving for one for Sarah,” Tamara said. “Sarah excelled in piano at school—ouch!” Tamara had stuck her finger with her needle. Maggie couldn’t help feeling just a little gratified by this.

  “You should have chosen red like me,” Maggie said lightly, “then the blood won’t show as much!”

  Tamara laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Just remember that your saliva will get your own blood out if you dab it on quickly,” Grandma suggested.

  “Ick!” said Maggie and Tamara together.

  It was not long after that incident that Maggie realized she was actually enjoying the session, enjoying Tamara’s company. Tamara wasn’t some rich snob, which was how Maggie had wanted to perceive her. She was a nice person. Maggie wondered if she should be honest with her about Colby. Well, she wasn’t ready to do that just yet, but she’d give it some thought.

  Grandma asked Tamara how she happened to be visiting the Stoddards.

  “Sarah and I attended finishing school together,” Tamara answered.

  “Ellie was also in their class,” put in Maggie.

  “But our parents were friends before that. Mr. Stoddard grew up in Portland and attended school with my father. So here I am.” Pausing, Tamara concentrated on her work for a moment, then went on, “I guess the main reason I’ve come is because my mother thought I needed a change of scene after . . . after my engagement ended.”

  “I’m so sorry, dear,” Grandma said.

  “I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.” Tamara sighed.

  “Did you decide you weren’t ready to get married?” asked Maggie.

  “Not actually.” Tamara hesitated, then added, “He jilted me.”

  “How awful!” Maggie exclaimed. And she truly meant it. It was a sad thing to happen even to a rival.

  “I keep trying to tell myself that it was God’s will.”

  “And it surely is,” said Grandma, “but that still doesn’t prevent it from breaking your heart. It will get easier. How long ago did it happen?”

  “I went to Boston last spring for my brother’s graduation from Harvard. When I returned home, I learned Jeffery had found someone else. I guess he realized he didn’t miss me as much as he should.”

  “What a cad!” Maggie said.

  “Now, Maggie,” said Grandma, “Tamara may still have feelings for the young man.”

  “But he was terrible—” Maggie started to protest. Then she realized how advantageous it might be to her if Tamara did still love this fellow. Yet she wouldn’t wish even her worst enemy to be matched with someone so calloused.

  “It’s okay,” Tamara said. “I don’t suppose I care about him anymore. He was my parents’ choice in the first place. Oh, I came to care for him, but not . . .” Her words trailed away, and she concentrated on her work.

  Perhaps she realized she was sharing too much with people she hardly knew. But Maggie wanted to know more. “You didn’t love him?”

  “Well, I’m nineteen years old. I didn’t want to be an old maid!” Tamara blurted the words like a painful confession.

  “And now your parents want to match you with Colby Stod-dard?” Maggie ventured boldly.

  Grandma stirred but said nothing. A few dishes rattled from her mother’s direction. Maggie had the feeling she’d get scolded later for her bluntness, but she’d worry about that later. Now she needed to know Tamara’s intentions.

  “You know about that?” Tamara smiled a self-conscious smile. “Everyone must know.”

  “Girls, we must concentrate on our sewing for a moment,” Grandma put in. “I’ve noticed you are having some difficulty threading your needles. We all have heard about wetting the end of the thread, and that often does the trick. I have another little hint—try wetting the eye of the needle.” She demonstrated with her needle and thread. It did work well.

  The conversation didn’t get back to Tamara’s love life after that. Maggie had a suspicion that Grandma had purposely diverted the direction of the discussion. Maggie knew she had pushed too far. Tamara would probably never come back now and that, surprisingly, disappointed Maggie. Not only because of her schemes, but because she liked Tamara and also felt a little sorry for her. It must be hard for her to have her parents so dictate her life. Maggie complained often enough that her own parents, especially her mother, were always telling her what to do, but in reality, they were fairly lenient. Her mother made comments about her need to get ready for marriage, but never did she push her toward any one person. The closest she had come to doing that was when she had supported the idea of marrying the new minister. She’d learned her lesson from that and now was more reticent than ever on the subject of marriage.

  After about an hour Grandma declared the lesson over for the day. She encouraged them to work on their projects on their own when they had a chance. She also welcomed Tamara to join them again. Tamara thanked her but made no firm commitment.

  Maggie followed her outside. “Are you sure you want to walk home?” She knew Mr. Stoddard had brought Tamara and that she’d told him she would be happy to walk home. “It’s a good two miles to the Stoddard place.”

  “Exercise will do me good.”

  “We could lend you a saddle horse.”

  “I don’t ride well.”

  “You could ride with me. I don’t mind.”

  “Thank you very
much, but I’ll be all right.”

  Maggie detected a coolness in her tone. “Tamara, I am sorry if I offended you earlier. Mama tells me I’m too curious for my own good.”

  Tamara seemed surprised by the apology. “Don’t worry about it. Truly. Though it is a touchy subject . . . I thought I might want to talk about it, but in the end I was too embarrassed. My reticence had nothing to do with you. Honestly.”

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Maggie assured her. “It’s that fellow Jeffery who should be ashamed.”

  “You have to be jilted yourself, Maggie, to know how it feels.” Her tone was slightly defensive, but it held no accusation. “You feel that when a man leaves you, it must be your fault, that you failed him in some way. And you fear that other men will find you objectionable, as well. I guess that’s why I jumped at the chance to come here where I wasn’t known. Yet that didn’t work out. My past has followed me.”

  “It’s a small town.” Maggie wanted to say something to lift her spirits. “I’ll bet Colby doesn’t care about that other fellow. He seemed very attentive to you the other night.”

  “But to know my mother was desperate enough to push me toward someone who, in her estimation, is beneath me is, in itself, humiliating!” When Maggie opened her mouth, about to defend Colby, Tamara added, “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think he, or anyone, is beneath me. But my mother would have wanted someone of more financial affluence though she likes the idea of a match with the son of an old family friend.”

  “The Parkers have lots of money,” Maggie found herself saying. As much as she was conflicted about scheming, she couldn’t let this prime opportunity go.

  Tamara rolled her eyes. “So everyone knows about Evan Parker, as well. He was never a real suitor because I was engaged at the time we were together in Boston.”

  “Well, Colby isn’t the only eligible bachelor in these parts.” Maggie was only speaking the truth. There couldn’t be anything wrong with that.

  “Evan was sweet. But Colby . . .” A blush of pink rose in Tamara’s cheeks. “He’s so marvelous.” She giggled.

  With a sinking feeling, Maggie realized Tamara was already starting to fall in love with Colby.