The Ties That Bind:
A Sewing Circle Romance
Book Two
by Amelia C. Adams
With thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Barbara, Cindy, Dorothy, Joseph, Mary, Meisje, Robin, Sandy, Shelby, Suzy, Teresa, Theresa, and Tina.
Cover design by Ammon Pinkston
Get A Stitch in Time, book one of the Sewing Circle, by clicking here!
Would you like to join my readers group on Facebook? Click here!
Table of Contents:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
Chapter One
Topeka, Kansas
1877
Jane Henderson stood on the platform of the Topeka train station, waiting for her crate of supplies to be taken off the baggage car. There really was no reason for her to be here—Mr. Hoover always saw to it that her orders made it safely to her shop—but whenever she could, she liked to watch. It was thrilling, really, to think how far these items had come—most were all the way from New York City. She could only imagine traveling that far herself.
The first flush of excitement began when she saw the plume of smoke come over the rise and could hear the whistle blowing in the distance. Sometimes if she had a few minutes to spare, she’d watch the train leave again half an hour later and imagine herself on it. She’d heard amazing things about places like San Francisco and Chicago, but she knew she’d never see them for herself. No, she was Kansas born and bred, and Kansas was where she would die. She had prairie dust under her fingernails and in her blood.
Maude Thomas, one of Jane’s closest friends, had come with her to the station under the guise of keeping her company. At first, they’d chatted about the goings-on in town and made sure they each knew who was ill and who had gotten better, but Jane could tell that something was amiss with Maude, and after a few minutes, it was clear that what Maude really needed was the chance to talk about herself.
“Of all my grandchildren, I believe I’ve lost more sleep over Peter than everyone else put together,” Maude was saying as the luggage was being lifted off the train. “You’d never know it, but he’s got such a sensitive heart.”
“We most certainly know it,” Jane replied. “He’s a very sweet boy.” She supposed she couldn’t actually call him a boy—he was twenty-five, if she hadn’t lost track—but calling him a man seemed wrong somehow. Time was passing by far too quickly for comfort.
“Sometimes I think he’s too sweet. If he toughened up a little, maybe he wouldn’t get hurt so easily.”
Jane shook her head. “He’s just as tough as he ought to be, and not one bit too sweet. I think he’s a perfect mixture, and when he does find the right young lady, she’ll think so too.” One of the baggage handlers lifted a crate onto the platform, and Jane gave a nod. “That looks like mine right there.”
“That’s why I was up all night.”
Jane frowned. “Because of my crate?”
“No, of course not. Peter’s girl. Where are we going to find this young lady? It’s all well and good that we made a pledge to help him, but how exactly are we going to fulfill that pledge? I’m not capable of producing young ladies out of the woodwork. Are you?”
Jane smiled and patted Maude’s arm. “This is where faith comes in. You want what’s best for the boy, and you have to trust that’s what the Lord wants too. If marrying and having a family is for the best, it will happen. And since it hasn’t happened yet, we’ll encourage it a little and see.”
Maude didn’t look comforted yet. “And . . . what if it’s not for the best?”
“Then you’ll be happy for him when it doesn’t happen.”
“But we won’t know for years if he was happiest alone, and I’ll be dead by then!”
Jane laughed. “Oh, Maude, you do enjoy fussing and fuming. What would you do without something to worry about?”
Maude seemed to consider that for a moment. “Well, I suppose I’d have to invent something.”
“Or you could enjoy what it feels like to let your worries go.” Jane gave her friend’s arm a little squeeze. “Let’s get back to the shop and meet up with the other ladies before we proclaim Peter’s case hopeless. We’ve only just begun, you know, and it’s far too early to be so despondent about things.”
“I didn’t realize that despondency ran on a timetable,” Maude replied.
“It certainly does, and if you succumb to it too early, it could throw everything else off.” Jane gave a smile of thanks to the stationmaster, Mr. Hoover, letting him know she was aware that he’d deliver her shipment as he always did. Then the two friends stepped off the platform and began their stroll.
The wooden sign that hung from Jane’s eaves swung gently in the breeze. Her son Milton had carved it for her and installed it as a surprise on her opening day. The Sewing Shoppe, it read, and she felt a little thrill whenever she looked at it. She’d never imagined herself being a businesswoman, but she’d also never considered what it would mean to be a widow, and she was learning how to navigate both worlds.
She unlocked the door, then raised the blinds in the windows to let in the warm morning sunshine. She hoped the building wouldn’t be too cold for poor Viola—her arthritis had been acting up quite a bit as of late, and warmth was the only relief she could find. She couldn’t hold a needle or even a crochet hook anymore, but she still attended their sewing circle meetings for the camaraderie, and Jane was so glad she did—she couldn’t imagine how they’d get by without Viola’s wisdom and sometimes sharp tongue.
The other members of the group arrived at nearly the same time and took their seats in the same spots they had chosen since the beginning. Jane looked around at them and smiled. She was so grateful for their constant friendship and the support they’d given her during her lonely hours, and she was thankful that she’d been in a position to help them when they struggled. Being a widow was a part of life—at least, that’s what everyone assumed, and so it was also assumed that it was easy. No, it most certainly wasn’t. It was the most difficult thing Jane had ever done, and she was so glad she didn’t have to go through it alone.
“Welcome, ladies,” she said, lifting one hand to bring an end to the chattering. Their meetings weren’t formal, but they did follow a certain agenda, and part of that included a report on everyone’s current projects. “How are you all coming along on your sections for Toby and Miriam’s wedding quilt?”
“Jane, you did a lovely job of cutting these squares for us,” Thora Barton said, holding the portion she’d pieced up to the light. “I don’t know how you managed to get them so exact.”
“A ruler and sharp scissors,” Jane replied.
“Well, there must be a trick to it because I can never get my squares this nice. I’m nearly done, and then I’ll be ready to join my section to someone else’s.”
“I’m finished,” Bonnie Clark said, and Nola Johnson replied, “So am I.”
“I was going to finish mine yesterday, but I got horribly sidetracked,” Maude said. “My neighbor’s ducks got out of their pen, and I spent a good two hours chasing them up and down the street. I’m sure I looked quite a sight, but we did finally get them all tucked away again.”
“Oh, I would have loved to see that,” Esther Brown said with a chuckle. “I’m not done either—it’s been hard to work on it with Miriam in the house. I’ve almost shown it to her a few times just to end the secrecy.”
“You can’t do that!” Thora cried. “It’s bad luck for the bride to see her quilt before the wedding!”
“I thought the bride wasn’t supposed to br
eak a mirror on her wedding day,” Nola added.
“I’m pretty sure it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony,” Maude said. “You’re getting everything all mixed up and backwards.”
“There’s no such thing as bad luck.” Viola lifted one trembling hand and waved a finger. “There are only people’s reactions to everyday circumstances.”
“Viola’s right. I would hate to see the surprise ruined, though,” Jane said. “Esther, why don’t you finish up here at the shop? I’d enjoy having your company, and it would reduce the chances of Miriam seeing it.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Jane laughed. “I didn’t have these chairs brought in just to be used once a week—of course I don’t mind.”
“All right, I’ll do it. It will be nice to spend a little more time out of the house.”
Jane glanced over the quilt portions that were done to see if any could be hooked together—no, in order to create the right pattern, they’d have to wait for the other ladies to finish up. She hoped there would be time—the wedding wasn’t that far off, and they still needed to assemble the quilt and do the stitching. Any quilt worth having was worth doing right, and she didn’t want to feel like they’d rushed—not when Toby and Miriam were so dear to them all. They deserved something lovely.
“Please let me know if you need help with your section,” she said to the room at large. “And now let’s move on to our other matter at hand.”
“The question of my grandson,” Maude interjected, not waiting to see if Jane had even finished her sentence. Jane didn’t take offense at the interruption—she knew it was just Maude’s way when she was worked up about something. “I’m at a loss for that poor boy.”
Thora reached into her sewing bag. “I thought it might help if I made a list of all the unmarried young ladies in our neighborhood,” she said, pulling out a piece of paper. “You’ll have to help me when it comes to the other neighborhoods, though. I don’t get out much.”
“Of course we’ll help you,” Nola said, glancing over Thora’s shoulder. “Oh, but we need to cross off names one and two immediately.”
“Have they already turned him down?” Thora asked.
“Yes, and they weren’t too polite about it. He and Toby are good friends, as you know, and I’ve caught snippets of their conversations. I just don’t understand how a girl could allow a boy to think he had a real chance, to encourage him to visit and even to be seen in public together, and then dismiss him so callously. In my day, that was the very height of rudeness.”
“I agree, Nola,” Jane said. “I was always taught that you should make your preferences clear right from the start, and if you weren’t interested in a boy, you should never allow him to think that you were.”
“Today’s youngsters don’t seem to understand that, though,” Maude said. “It’s a game to see how many suitors you can string along at the same time. It’s a dangerous game, if you ask me, and terribly immature.”
Thora pulled a pencil from her bag. “All right, names one and two are gone. Now, tell me who I’ve forgotten.”
The ladies worked on their quilt pieces while Thora read her list aloud, occasionally adding their two cents about a girl who shouldn’t be included or one who should be added. It seemed like such a mechanical way to go about finding Peter’s true love, but they had to start somewhere. He didn’t have someone lingering in his past like Toby did—they’d have to dig a little deeper for him.
They were in the middle of discussing the Appleby girls when the door to the shop swung open and a small child ran in, gasping for breath. “It’s a sewing emer . . . emergency!”
Jane came to her feet and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “What’s the matter, dear?”
She reached down and pointed to the hem of her dress. Sure enough, some stitches had come out, and it was starting to sag. “My mama said I can’t possibly be seen in public like this and we’d need to go home so she can fix it, but we were on our way to get a treat, and then I saw your sign with the picture of the needle and thread on it. Please help me.” Her eyes were large, and Jane had to hide her smile at the girl’s plea.
“Of course I can help you. Come here.”
Jane led the child over to her chair and had her stand still while she pinned the offending hem back into place. While she worked, she asked, “What’s your name? And don’t wiggle—you must hold very still so I don’t poke you.”
The girl pursed her lips. “All right. And about my name . . . well, that’s a matter of who you ask. My grandma calls me Myrtle, but my mama calls me May.”
Maude chuckled. “You’re Eliza’s new little friend, aren’t you? Princess Amaryllis?”
“Yes! You know Eliza? She’s my best friend in the whole world!” Her braids swung back and forth in her excitement.
“I’m Eliza’s grandmother,” Maude said. “She told me all about you.”
“And she told me all about you! And how you made her red dress. You must be a wonderful grandma.” The girl’s eyes clouded over. “My grandma is sick, and I don’t know when we’ll get to see her again.”
“Oh, that’s sad,” Jane said. She finished pinning the hem, then chose a spool of thread from her basket that seemed a likely match for that shade of blue. “So . . . it’s Princess Amaryllis, is it?”
“Yes, please, but my mama said I shouldn’t expect everyone to go along with my little game.” She paused. “That means it’s all right if you want to call me something else.”
Jane smiled. “Why would I ever want to call you anything else? I think it’s a lovely name.”
Her face lit up. “It’s the loveliest name in the whole world!”
“And where is your mama now, Princess Amaryllis?”
The girl looked over her shoulder, trying to see out the window while keeping the rest of her body still. “Probably still chasing Freddy. He’s not a very nice boy sometimes, and when I told her I was coming here, he decided to run off the other way. He’s my older brother, but he doesn’t act older very much of the time.” She leaned in and whispered, “I heard someone call him a hoo . . . a hoo . . . Oh, I can’t remember. But the way they said it, I don’t think it was a nice word.”
“Was it ‘hooligan,’ maybe?” Thora asked.
Princess Amaryllis nodded. “Yes! That’s it. But what does that mean?”
“It means he’s a boy with lots of energy.” Jane finished her basting stitch, then began going back over with her finishing stitch. This girl would not experience another sewing emergency any time soon.
The door to the shop opened again, and a pretty auburn-haired young woman stepped inside. She held a boy’s hand in hers, and Jane could see that she was flustered. “Oh, May. There you are.”
“Of course, Mama. I told you where I was going.” Princess Amaryllis held out her arms. “I found a whole room full of grandmas. This place is like a grandma store.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Her mama gave a smile. “Hello, everyone. I hope we aren’t interrupting your gathering. A sewing circle, from the looks of it.”
“That’s right,” Jane said. “But you’re not interrupting. I’d say, your daughter has brought us quite a breath of fresh air this morning.” The other ladies nodded.
“When she went scampering up ahead, I was worried that she’d get lost. This looks like a very nice place to end up.” The young woman looked around, smiling appreciatively.
“I’m Jane Henderson, and these are my friends.” Each widow nodded as Jane said her name so the newcomer would know who was being introduced. “Did I see you at Miriam Brown’s welcome home party a few weeks ago? You look familiar.”
“Yes, I was there. My name is Scarlett Carlson, and you’ve met May.” She gave a small chuckle. “And this is Freddy,” she went on, indicating the boy, who was tugging on her hand.
“Do you see what I mean?” Princess Amaryllis whispered to Jane. “He’s not a nice boy.”
Jane smil
ed and whispered back, “He’s likely just bored. This isn’t the sort of store for little boys.” She winced as he turned his attention to kicking the wall, but his mother bent down and said something in his ear. He stopped, but pasted a very unpleasant look on his face.
“Where do you live, Mrs. Carlson?” Bonnie was asking.
“In the small house just on the other side of the parsonage,” she replied. “We’re renting it in hopes of finding something a little larger to buy later on.”
“Yes, that house is rather small.” Esther shook her head. “I can’t imagine fitting a whole family in there.”
“We’re making do for now, and once we get our feet under us, I’m sure we’ll find something more suitable.” Mrs. Carlson smiled again, and Jane wondered if the poor lady felt a little uncomfortable.
“You’ll have to forgive us if we seem to be scrutinizing you,” Jane told her. “We don’t mean to do it—we’re just curious.”
“And we don’t have much else to do,” Viola piped up, waving her trembling hand again.
Mrs. Carlson chuckled. “I understand—we are quite the oddity, I’m sure.”
Thora frowned. “Why would you be an oddity? I don’t see anything particularly odd about you.”
“Oh, so the speculation hasn’t begun yet.” Mrs. Carlson took a deep breath, and Jane thought she looked like she was preparing herself for some kind of battle. “My husband passed away a short time ago, so it’s just me with the two children.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Bonnie said. “We’re all widows too.”
“All of you?” Mrs. Carlson seemed surprised.
“Yes, dear, but none of us were left alone so early on.” Thora looked at the young woman compassionately.
The little boy tugged on his mother’s hand again. “Let’s go,” he whined.
“Just a minute,” Jane told him. “I’m almost finished with your sister’s dress.”
“Who cares about stupid dresses? I want to go buy some candy.” Freddy, if Jane remembered his name correctly, yanked his arm out of his mother’s grip and ran out of the store, slamming the door behind him.
The Ties That Bind Page 1