Chapter 14
Bonnie never went into Fabrics and Notions alone.
She had a pact with Sophia and Carol.
Sophia always accompanied her.
Otherwise Bonnie would blow Homespun Handicrafts’ profits on a rainbow of materials and “just one more pattern.”
If she had an addiction, it was sewing notions and fabric.
That addiction was on full display.
Maybe because it was getting harder and harder to use her hands.
She shrugged off the melancholy thoughts that had plagued her after Chet picked her up earlier in the day and entertained her with a rousing rendition of “Up from the Grave He Arose.”
The man had a great voice, he was a good people-reader, and he had good intentions.
But he couldn’t fix her hands.
The first day of May was a dreary one that promised rain, but it delivered a measly hit-or-miss sprinkle that only served to increase the humidity.
It was supposed to be approaching summer, yet finicky spring weather continued to plague the area, making it impossible to know whether to wear a coat, a shawl, a sweater, or none of the above.
No pity parties allowed.
Instead Bonnie had permitted herself thirty minutes in her second most favorite store behind Homespun Handicrafts.
Simply walking through the door to see shears, thimbles, needles, and threads lifted her spirits.
Not to mention the scent of industriousness.
That was how sewing felt: industrious. “Look, Soph, at this cute purple-and-lilac paisley.”
Bonnie held up a bolt of cotton material.
“Wouldn’t this make the cutest cat? I saw a new pattern—”
“Easy, maedel.”
Sophia reached up to tug the fabric from Bonnie’s hands.
“We agreed.
Three kinds of material.
Three patterns.
You already have a sloth, a flamingo, and a unicorn.”
How could she limit herself to three fabrics when the store had row upon row of bolts—cottons, denims, polyesters, blends, flannels, jerseys, rayon—in every color and print imaginable? Not to mention the six five-foot-high spinning racks of patterns.
Women’s clothes, men’s clothes, children’s clothes, doll clothes, stuffed animals, dog beds.
Even dogs’ coats.
“Jah, but—”
“No buts.
You can use the pink polka-dotted material for both the flamingo and the pig.”
“Nee, the flamingo needs to be hot pink.
I saw some on the clearance rack.”
“Well, if it’s on sale, of course.”
Sophia’s eye roll coupled with her sarcastic tone said she wasn’t buying that logic.
“It’s on sale because it’s ugly, and no one wants a hot-pink flamingo.
Go with the pink polka dots.”
“What do you know about material? You’re a painter.”
“With an eye for color.”
Sophia laid the bolt in her lap.
She wheeled her chair around to the row from which the bolt had come.
Without an iota of pity on display for Bonnie, she stuck the bolt back on the shelf between a big sunflower print and a too-stretchy maroon jersey material.
Next to it was a darling white flannel with kittens and puppies on it that would make cute pj’s for the English dolls.
Sophia must’ve seen the desire on Bonnie’s face. “Don’t even think about it. Hey, isn’t that Patience Coblentz and Mary Eash? Let’s say hallo.”
This would be a lot better medicine for the blues if Sophia would give an inch on Bonnie’s purchases.
Trying to distract her wouldn’t work.
Still, Bonnie tore her gaze from the flannel to see two women standing side by side at the pattern racks.
Most Plain women could make pants, dresses, shirts, and such in their sleep.
They didn’t need patterns. They could even make doll clothes from the scraps without patterns. But it was still fun to browse. Or make stuffed animals for their children. In these women’s cases, their grandchildren.
“On second thought, you go say hallo.
I’m going to visit the restroom.
My bag overfloweth.”
With a wry grin, Sophia cocked her head toward the back.
“I love that Miriam remodeled the restroom to make it more accessible.”
“Take your time.”
“Just remember, I plan to check your basket when I return.
No sneaking purchases.”
“Like I can sneak a bolt past you.”
“Go say hallo.
I’ll be right back.”
Mary and Patience stood with their backs to the store.
They chattered as they spun their racks to check out patterns for doll clothes, teddy bears, bunnies, lions, and more.
The lion pattern had called Bonnie’s name, but Sophia nixed the idea.
Not until Bonnie used every pattern she’d bought the last trip to Fabrics and Notions.
“Kathryn really likes the idea of working at Millers’ Combination Store.
She says Elizabeth and the girls make it fun.”
Patience held up a boa snake pattern.
Mary shook her head.
Patience returned the pattern to her rack.
“Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Elijah will be around when he’s not auctioneering.
She says they’re selling his toys and such in the store now. He’ll be in and out of the store bringing in new inventory.”
The unspoken words if all goes well ended her sentence.
At the mention of Elijah’s name, Bonnie paused.
Not eavesdropping.
Simply surprised.
So he did plan to call auctions.
He had to bow to his father’s wishes. Any good Plain son would.
Mary spun the rack until it stopped at doll clothes.
“Did he seem interested?”
“Who can tell with that man? He hardly says a word.
The cat didn’t just take his tongue; he hid it somewhere permanently.”
“But Kathryn’s interested?”
“She doesn’t say it, but it’s obvious.
I’m pretty sure she visited his workshop last night while Menno and me talked with Charlie and Elizabeth.
She had the strangest look on her face after she supposedly went for a walk.
She told Elizabeth she’d changed her mind about the job.”
Patience sighed.
“Fortunately, Elizabeth talked her out of it.
She needs a job since the Englischers moved their grandmother to assisted living.
No more cooking and cleaning for her.
I’m hoping this will be the last one, though. She’ll be twenty-four in a few months. Maybe Elijah will wake up and notice her if she’s around every day.”
Over for supper.
Visited the workshop.
Working there every day.
Why would Elizabeth choose to matchmake with Kathryn if she hadn’t seen a spark of interest from Elijah? Why did any of the mothers in the district matchmake? They pretended to let nature take its course during rumspringa, but everyone knew they were on pin and needles—sometimes for years.
Enough.
Bonnie retrieved her manners.
“Hallo, ladies.
Fancy running into you here.”
Patience turned first.
“Ach, Bonnie, we were so busy jawing, we didn’t hear you come up.
How’re you doing? How’s your mudder doing?”
That question asked with that certain tone of honeyed concern shouldn’t grate, but it did.
No doubt Patience really wanted to know.
By the same token, Bonnie’s health shouldn’t be the first order of business in every conversation.
“I’m gut.
Really gut. Mamm is gut. Did you find some fun patterns?”
As usual it was her job to steer the conversation toward more interesting topics.
In this case, Kathryn’s new job.
How did she get there without revealing that she’d heard more than her share of the women’s conversation?
“Just browsing.”
Mary waved at the racks in dismissal.
“Why go to the trouble of making stuffies for the grandkids when we can buy them from your store?”
Because it would be cheaper.
Bonnie didn’t voice that thought.
The Plain women in her district thought the shop’s prices were high.
They were.
She and her partners set prices according to their primary customer—tourists who could and would pay more. Neither Mary nor Patience would buy from the shop. They made birthday and Christmas gifts just like everyone else. “I thought I heard you say Kathryn got a job working for the Millers.”
“Jah, in the store.
Today is her first full day.”
Despite her early comments, Patience managed to appear happy about it.
“I think it’ll be a nice change after spending so much time caring for Mrs.
Danforth.
Taking care of all her needs was rewarding, but watching her health decline was hard.
I’m hoping this will be Kathryn’s last job before she marries.”
Bonnie thumbed through packages of buttons.
Every color, round, square, rectangle, metal, plastic, glass, vintage, two holes, four holes.
A woman couldn’t have enough buttons.
Of course Bonnie had two fruitcake tins full of buttons at the store and another one at home.
Still, the red ones shaped like stars would make cute eyes.
She touched their smooth surfaces.
So small.
Threading a needle and then pushing that needle through the tiny holes on the back—it would be hard for adept sewers.
Impossible for Bonnie.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
You have a mudder who wants to help, who’s happy to help.
So true.
She was blessed.
Bonnie slipped them in her basket.
“Kathryn has a beau, then.”
Just the right touch of disinterest in her voice.
“You probably know more about that than I do.”
Bonnie glanced up.
Patience’s face was full of innocence.
That hadn’t been a dig, even though they likely knew Bonnie didn’t go to singings.
She didn’t run around.
She hadn’t done much of that even before her baptism. They couldn’t help but know of Bonnie’s perennial lack of a suitor. Women talked. Just as Patience and Mary had been talking while browsing. A perfect time to gossip and solve their children’s problems. “I don’t.”
“I heard Elijah Miller is selling his toys at your shop.”
Mary adopted the same tone of disinterest.
“I’d love to see some of his toys.
Kathryn says they’re nice.
They must sell well in your store.”
“We don’t have his toys and furniture out.”
Her business dealings were confidential.
“Then I guess it’s true he’s really going to try again to call auctions.”
Patience perused a pattern for a dog bed, then discarded it.
Plain dogs slept on old rugs or in the barn.
“His dat wants that, so I reckon he’ll have the last word.
Any woman who marries a Miller better be prepared to stand on her own two feet six months out of the year.”
“If he doesn’t freeze up again.”
Mary picked up a basket sitting on a nearby pile of fabric remnants stacked on a clearance table.
“I better skedaddle.
Lunch isn’t going to make itself.”
“I reckon he will.
I’ve never met a man so tightly wound into himself.
I’d better go too.”
Patience dropped the lion pattern in her basket.
Her cheeks turned pink.
“I need to make a birthday present for James’s youngest.
He’ll be one next month.”
So she was thinking of how Kathryn would adapt to such a life.
Putting the horse before the buggy.
“He’s not tightly wound.
He just doesn’t like being the center of attention,”
Bonnie blurted out.
Such a quality was supposed to be an admirable one, one to which Plain folks aspired.
“He’s quiet because he thinks before he speaks.”
Something to which these ladies could aspire.
Patience wrinkled her nose in a frown.
Probably wondering how Bonnie knew so much about Elijah’s qualities.
“He probably doesn’t listen to conversations that don’t involve him either.”
Ouch.
“Have a gut day.”
“You too.”
“Her face was the color of steamed eggplant.”
Sophia wheeled to a stop in the next aisle.
“What did you say to her?”
“I may have called her out for gossiping.”
“About what?”
“If I told you, I’d be gossiping.”
“You’re no fun.”
Sophia led the way to the cash register.
She took it upon herself to move Bonnie’s items to the counter.
The star buttons stayed, but the lion pattern went into the cashier’s return-to-shelf cart.
Bonnie pretended to pout while the cashier held the door so they could both exit.
“You’re no fun either.”
Out on the street, a soft sprinkle dampened her face.
Bonnie put her hand to her forehead and squinted.
Several cars were parked across the street at the shop.
Good.
Again, she was blessed.
“Looks like we’ve got a full store.”
Sophia wheeled down to the accessible curb cut.
She stopped and peered both ways.
“Even Slowpoke showed up.
Elijah must’ve made him stay outside.”
One buggy sat between two SUVs with Pennsylvania tags.
Slowpoke did occupy the seat.
Which meant Elijah couldn’t be far away.
“We’d better hustle.”
Sophia wheeled into the street in the crosswalk.
“With Hannah off today, Carol will need our help.”
“You go on.
I want to stop into the bakery.”
“Your mamm sent blueberry muffins.”
“They’ll be gone by now.”
“What’s with you? You’ve been dying to see if Elijah would come back.”
She hadn’t said a word to her friends about Elijah.
Now they were stopped in the middle of the street in downtown Lee’s Gulch, and Sophia brought it up.
Bonnie set her bag in her friend’s lap.
“Have not.
Tell Carol I’m right behind you.”
“I can read your face better than anyone else.”
Sophia flapped her arms.
“Chicken.
Bawk, bawk, bawk.”
“I’m not a chicken—”
“Are too.”
A familiar bell dinged.
Elijah poked his head out the shop’s door.
“Carol says to get out of the street before you get hit by a car.”
He closed the door.
“That wasn’t embarrassing at all.”
Sophia wheeled forward.
“Now you have to go in.”
Bonnie followed.
She might have to enter the store, but she didn’t have to like it.
Or Elijah.