Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (16 page)

As it turned out, it wasn’t much of a meeting. Once again, Martin surprised her. He arrived in the kitchen with a folder in hand and a security plan that seemed to solve all the questions the warden could possibly pose. Harry Butler served up roast pork and sauerkraut, potatoes and biscuits, and, much to Mamie’s amazement, drinkable coffee.

At the close of the meal, which they ate at one end of a long table marred with the scars of years of knives peeling and dicing, carving and cutting, Mamie took a last sip of coffee and, with a satisfied sigh, thanked Martin for putting things in order in such an efficient manner. He mumbled a response, bobbing his head and blushing. Mamie stood up to go. “If I can organize the rest of my lists with half the efficiency you’ve displayed this evening, I believe the warden will be duly impressed at Monday morning’s meeting.”

Martin, who was helping Harry by feeding one of the orphaned kittens with an eyedropper, looked up at her. “What lists are those?”

“The lists of things I’m praying the Lord will provide through donations. Sewing needles, fabric remnants—that kind of thing.”

“Scissors,” Martin said. “Pin cushions, too. And you’ll be wanting more measuring tapes, I suppose.”

Mamie nodded. “Yes. And flower seeds for the beds out front.”

“You having the trustees dig in any manure?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I’ll see to it.” He grinned. “One thing we have around here is plenty of manure.” He stroked the kitten’s tiny head with a gnarled forefinger, then lifted it to his shoulder, laughing when it nuzzled his neck and began to purr.

“I said you need to keep that one,” Harry called from where he stood at the stove, stirring a pot of boiling diapers.

Martin shook his head. “And what would I do with a kitten? Can’t keep it in the dormitory, don’t spend enough time in town.” He smiled at Mamie. “I could help you with your other lists. If you want.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“On what? My getting beat at another game of cards? Adam Selleck’s making fun of the way I walk? Someone hollering at me for—” He broke off. “Well, now, that was wrong. I should be counting blessings instead of rocks.”

“Rocks?”

A blush crept up the man’s neck. Even his Adam’s apple turned red. “Oh, that’s just a saying I have. There’s a reason but it’s not fit to tell. It means I shouldn’t complain.” He reached up to touch the kitten’s paw. “Anyway, I don’t mind helping. My penmanship isn’t as nice as yours, but I could copy lists well enough. As many as you need. You don’t even have to stay down here if you don’t want to. I’ll take care of it and bring them up in the morning. Or whenever you say.”

“I’m not about to let you risk your eyesight making lists in this pathetic light.” Mamie waved at the flickering lamp on the table.

“Whatever you say, Mamie.” He transferred the kitten from his shoulder to one cupped palm, laughing when the tiny creature curled onto its back, one paw flailing the air in a lazy wave.

Mamie gathered up her folder of papers and plans and called out her thanks to Mr. Butler for “putting up with me.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Martin said, and returned the kitten to the rag-lined box where three other balls of fur lay in a tangle of paws and tails. The kitten protested with a mew, but finally settled in.

And Mamie decided it was nice to have someone “walk her home.”

M
amie spent all of Friday evening after Martin “walked her home” working on her lists. She would need at least a dozen copies to share with the presidents of several Ladies Aid Societies in town. With Minnie’s help, Mamie hoped to begin gathering things up within a few days. The list included much more than sewing supplies. They would need readers, arithmetic texts—and a teacher. She began to think she was asking a lot of the good Lord. But then wasn’t He just the one to ask? Didn’t He often supply “above and beyond all that we ask or think”? She wasn’t positive, but she thought it said exactly that somewhere in the New Testament.

“Well, Lord. You said to let my requests be made known.” She paused. “I’ve never taken You quite so literally. If I’m being foolish, please forgive me. But there it is.” She sat back, as if waiting for God to read the list over her shoulder. Was it silly to ask God to supply three packages of number ten needles and eight pairs of sewing scissors? When it came to sewing machines, was it wrong to specify a brand?

At some point, she decided that after tea with Mrs. McKenna she would drive into Lincoln and speak with Dr. Zimmer—assuming he was still in town and she could find him. There had to be some medical reason why it was wrong to separate mother and child. Martin had mentioned something about a fine horse the doctor had rented from a certain livery. The livery might know where the doctor was staying. If only she could catch up with him before he left town. She would stay at Minnie’s Saturday night and distribute her lists to the ladies at church on Sunday. And then she would trust the Lord to move hearts toward a group of women most of them wanted to forget.

By Saturday morning, an overwhelmed and exhausted Mamie was sitting at the kitchen table, wondering how she would stay awake through tea with Mrs. McKenna, when she heard a key in the apartment door lock and a familiar voice calling a much-too-cheerful greeting.

“Toodle-oo-hoo, Mamie, it’s you-know-who.”

It was going to be one of
those
days. Cheerfulness personified. As Minnie swept into the apartment kitchen, Mamie groused, “Land sakes, you scared me to death.”

“Is it going to be one of
those
days? I thought you’d be glad to see me. Especially after the week you’ve had! Shall I exit and creep back in like a mouse?” She pulled her gloves and hat off and retreated into the hall.

Minnie didn’t know the half of it, but Mamie was too tired to go into it. With a sigh, she got up to get her sister a cup of tea. She filled Minnie’s hand-painted china cup and added two lumps of sugar. Setting the cup across from her at the small kitchen table, she sat back down to eat but could only stare at the oatmeal in the bowl. She had no appetite.

Minnie settled opposite her. “I hope you aren’t coming down with something. Isn’t that always the way? A girl gets a day off, and that’s the day her health goes. I’m scared to retire from the shop for fear the Grim Reaper will take note.” She frowned and ducked her head, trying to force Mamie to look at her. “Hellooo. Mamie? Anybody in there?” When Mamie still said nothing, Minnie sighed. Shook her head. “I am so glad I’m not the smart one. You’re always pondering the mysteries of life. And they always seem to depress you.” She jumped up and moved to the window, sipping her tea as she looked out.

“You’re
the smart one,” Mamie said. “You just won’t admit it.” She poked at the oatmeal with her spoon. “If you doubt it, consider our paths through life. Mine led here. You have a successful business in town and no need to worry over whether or not one of the women you interact with on a daily basis is going to stab someone.”

Mamie heard rather than saw Minnie set her cup and saucer on the window ledge, but shortly thereafter she felt her sister’s hand on her shoulder. “Mamie Dawson. You stop that right now.
I
attach feathers and ribbon to buckram frames so that homely women can look in the mirror and pretend they look just like the fashion plate they saw in
Demorest’s
latest edition.
You
show compassion to women the world has forgotten about. Which do you think is most worthy in light of eternity? Not that a Minnie Dawson creation isn’t the next best thing to heaven,” she joked. With another pat, she twirled away toward the kitchen to refill her cup. “Tell me what I need to know to shepherd your lambs today. And where are you off to, by the way?”

“Tea with Mrs. McKenna. Then—“

“Tea with the warden’s wife?” Minnie interrupted. “You must have made an impression through all the drama!” She slipped back into her chair. “What’s she like? Is she sickly? Is that why she’s been hiding away in that house?”

“Minnie!” Mamie’s stern voice was all that kept her sister from going on and on. “Mrs. McKenna is lovely.”

“Well, of course she is. I know that. With a husband like that? My goodness, doesn’t he look good enough to—”

“Please, Minnie.”

“You are
such
an old maid at times. But all right. I’ll hush.”

“Mrs. McKenna is… interesting.”

“And?”

“Southern.”

“And?”

“And you’ll likely meet her soon enough, and then you can judge for yourself. She seems to be taking a new interest in things over here.” Mamie went on to summarize her plans for the female department and the warden’s approval.

Minnie patted the back of her hand. “I am so proud of you.”

“Will you still think it’s wonderful when I tell you I need your help?”

“What kind of help?”

Mamie held out a copy of the list she’d spent half the night making. “I need everything on that list. Will the ladies in town think I’m being… greedy?”

Minnie perused the list. “To ask for needles and thread?”

“Keep reading.”

Minnie’s smile grew as she read. “Goodness, sister. Is the moon on here?” She looked up. “I’m teasing. It isn’t excessive. It’s a beginning designed to change lives.”

“Lives most people don’t give a fig about.”

“All you can do is ask. And pray. Which, if those bags under your eyes are any indication, you’ve been doing the better part of the night.”

Mamie sighed. “The warden pointed out that sewing involves tools that make excellent weapons. I suppose everyone in town will think the same thing.”

“And I suppose the men are cutting stone with their fingernails?”

Mamie chuckled in spite of herself. “Exactly.” But then her mood changed. “You haven’t heard the latest. You remember me telling you there was something… different about Pearl Brand?”

Minnie’s voice was stern. “Mamie Dawson. You are not to blame for what happened, and I won’t sit here and listen while you criticize my sister.”

Mamie frowned. “What do you know about what happened?”

“Martin Underhill is out front with another guard overseeing the digging of flower beds. He told me all about it.”

“Vestal could have died. She could have lost her baby.”

Minnie slipped into the chair beside her and took her hand. “But she didn’t. You acted quickly, and everything turned out just fine.” She squeezed her hand. “Mamie, you’re a blessing to those women, and I think they know it. Why don’t you?” She took a bite of Mamie’s oatmeal, made a face, and plopped the spoon back into the bowl. “No wonder you don’t want breakfast. I’ve never understood how you can eat this stuff.” She took another sip of tea. “Listen to me. I’m five minutes older than you, so show some respect for my more mature view of things.
No one blames you for anything that happened this past week.
Mr. Underhill told me how brave you were and how the warden thinks you’re going to revolutionize the female department for the better, and—“

Mamie shook her head. “That man. Did he tell you the doctor told him to rest?”

“He looked fine to me. Happy, in fact.” Minnie smiled. “Underneath that weathered exterior, he really is a very nice man.” She grinned. “And the way he talked about
you.
I was the perfect audience for his soliloquy on my intelligent, capable sister.” She plopped her teacup down onto the saucer. “Now get dressed and get out of here. It’s time you got to know the warden’s wife—so you can tell me all about her. Not to mention what that gorgeous house looks like on the inside. I’m assuming you were too distracted to pay much attention the other day.”

Mamie didn’t respond, merely got up and went to dress. She’d just buttoned her chemise when Minnie appeared in the doorway. “There’s a new resident at the Home for the Friendless. A woman with an infant. Both quite healthy from what I know. Might be willing to take on another baby.” She paused. “And I can see that isn’t good news in the least.”

Mamie shook her head. “I don’t think I can stand by and let that happen, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to say I
won’t
put up with it. It would mean my job, just when we’re starting something that has the potential to be truly meaningful.” She sat down at her dressing table and took up her brush, but instead of dealing with her hair, she sat looking at Minnie.

“I need help at the shop,” Minnie said. “But it would break your heart to give this up, and we both know it. Like it or not, this is your calling.” She paused. “Is the warden’s mind truly made up?”

Mamie sighed. “He said he was ‘making inquiries.’ I don’t know what that means. He also told me he doesn’t have any experience with women in prison. So why doesn’t he just listen to me?” Minnie stepped into the room. Taking the brush, she began to brush Mamie’s waist-length hair. Mamie closed her eyes, reveling in her sister’s loving touch.

“We’ll think of something,” Minnie said. “Maybe you should ‘make inquiries’ of your own this morning with
Mrs.
McKenna. Didn’t Martin tell me she provided some lovely baby things?”

“I don’t know that the warden would appreciate my going behind his back.”

Minnie shrugged. “Suit yourself. It was just an idea.” She twisted Mamie’s hair into an elaborate chignon.

Mamie pretended to scold. “It’s tea and a drive into Lincoln, Minnie, not a ball at the governor’s mansion.” She turned her head sideways to look in the mirror. “And how on earth do you manage things like that so easily?”

“It’s the consolation prize from God for His giving all the brains to my twin.” Minnie laughed, hugging Mamie from behind. “Now go forth and have a nice day. That color suits you. And you must tell me who makes your hats, Miss Dawson.”

“You are incorrigible.”

Minnie batted her eyes. “Aren’t I just?” She snatched up the matron’s keys and attached them to her belt, pausing at the door long enough to say, “You’ll figure something out for Vestal and her baby. You always do.”