Broken Things to Mend Read online

  After she heard Silas leave, she joined Nancy in the kitchen.

  “We should leave for the parade in half an hour,” Nancy said. She smiled, but there was a little tension behind her friendly tone.

  “I think I’ll stay home.” Nancy looked surprised. “I’m not feeling too well tonight.”

  “Are you sick?” Nancy walked over and put her hand on Celia’s forehead. She may be concerned about her nephew, but she was still behaving kindly toward Celia.

  “I’m feeling a little tired and achy.”

  “Did we wake you earlier?” Nancy looked guilty.

  “When?”

  “Silas and I were talking earlier. Were we too loud?”

  “No. I must have been out of it.”

  Nancy looked relieved. “I hate for you to miss tonight. The last night’s always fun.”

  “Yeah. Too bad. You guys go have fun though. I’ll just go to bed early.”

  Celia wasn’t tired at all after they left so she watched some television. About eleven, she heard the explosions of the fireworks outside. She walked out on the porch and sat on the steps watching the tiny lights burst like millions of stars against the dark sky. She wanted to enjoy them, but all they did was make her feel lonely. An ache sprouted in her chest and grew until her throat was tight and tears escaped her eyes.

  Nancy had been kind to her, and Silas might even think he liked her. But neither of them trusted her and neither of them knew her. No one did. In this entire world, there wasn’t a single person who knew her and loved her.

  Not one.

  Silas looked at the clock. Nine-forty-eight. He straightened his necktie and looked in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. The tie was much too long. It made him look like a little boy dressing up in his father’s clothes. Technically this was his father’s tie, but Silas wasn’t a little boy. He yanked the knot loose around his neck and started over, knowing this was probably making him late.

  He glanced at Aunt Nancy’s house as he drove by. What would she think if she knew where Silas was going? Was he wasting his time this morning? Not that going to church was a waste of time, but he knew he wasn’t going for the right reasons. He was going because, for at least the past two Sundays, Celia had gone to church. He should have asked her which church she attended, but he hadn’t, so now he could only hope she had returned to the church she’d walked to the night he found her crying.

  Silas parked his Jeep in the shade of a pine tree and walked to the door. He ran his hands through his hair as he looked at his reflection then walked inside.

  The air felt cool in the foyer. An organ began playing “How Great Thou Art” and Silas moved toward the chapel. He stood at the back and scanned the room, looking for Celia’s brown sugar hair. On the third row from the back he found her. She looked shocked when Silas slid past a couple at the end of the bench and sat down beside her.

  She was wearing the blue dress and it occurred to Silas it was probably the only dress she owned. Part of her hair was pulled back off her face. She had pretty cheekbones. He turned toward the front of the room where the man leading the music cut off the last note with a flourish.

  Silas hadn’t been to church since Easter Sunday, and then it had been a different denomination. He’d never been to this one before, but as the minister began speaking about forgiveness, he found himself interested in the message and moved by the stories he told. He felt Celia’s glance several times, but kept his gaze on the minister or the stained glass behind him, or the organ.

  The meeting lasted more than an hour, but Silas didn’t mind. He was sitting beside Celia. He had wanted to sit beside her at the rodeo and fireworks the night before. Despite Aunt Nancy’s worries, Silas had thought of nothing but Celia as he stood at the beginning of the parade route, motioning each entry forward at forty-five second intervals. When the convertible with the mayor brought up the end of the parade, he’d worked his way down the street to The Stitchin’ Station, where the employees always sat chairs out for their families. He had been disappointed when he realized Celia hadn’t joined Aunt Nancy for the parade. It was difficult to be good company for the evening when his mind kept wandering to Celia.

  It had taken Silas a long time to fall asleep after he arrived home from the fireworks. Aunt Nancy’s concerns seemed valid. What did they really know about Celia? Pearl had picked her up in Bend, brought her to Sisters, and helped her find a place to live. But then Pearl had left. Had she even known Celia? Silas couldn’t remember anything that would indicate that they were friends, or even acquaintances. So Pearl had pulled some strings, but that couldn’t really be an endorsement of Celia’s character or intentions, could it?

  Celia had told Aunt Nancy she came from Chicago and didn’t have any family. That’s all they knew. It seemed like she wanted to leave the past behind her, but what was that past? At first Silas had thought she might be a con artist, but he didn’t feel that way now. Maybe that proved she was pulling a really good scam. Or maybe she was running from the law.

  As he tossed and turned, none of those things felt right, but it was true. They didn’t know much about her. Despite that, Silas was interested. He felt drawn to her, protective of her. The logical solution was to find out more about her and the only way to do that would be to spend more time together.

  He’d start the next day. Aunt Nancy had told him Celia had gone to church the last two Sundays. Would she make it a third? He didn’t know, but if she did, he could be there. He wanted to spend time with her anyway, so why not?

  Now, here he was in a church he’d never attended before, but the message was good—forgiveness was a good thing, right? The minister had charisma. A few times he cracked tasteful jokes and he seemed sincere. The building was peaceful and the morning light made the stained glass depiction of the Garden of Gethsemane beautiful. And Celia was beside him. He felt good.

  He glanced over at Celia as she wiped away tears. Was she crying about something the minister had said? Silas thought over the last few sentences of the sermon. Something about needing to forgive others seventy times seven. Silas wondered what had prompted the tears. Did Celia need to forgive or did she need to be forgiven? He wanted to put his arm around her and offer some comfort but she turned away from him as she wiped her cheeks, and he could tell it would be better if she didn’t know he’d seen her tears.

  After the services were over, they sat on the bench as the organ played and others rose to leave.

  “Do you go to this church?” Celia asked softly.

  “First time at this one.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought you m-might want some company.”

  She looked at him for a moment. “Thanks.”

  Silas nodded. “You want some lunch? I thought we could go to Bend. M-McKay’s Cottage.”

  Celia hesitated. “Um, sure.”

  When they walked to Silas’s Jeep, he walked with her to the passenger side and opened the door. It wasn’t an easy vehicle to board, especially in a dress, so when Silas held out his hand to help her, she took it.

  “Should we be inviting Nancy?” she asked when they drove past the road that led home.

  Silas was glad he knew Aunt Nancy was scheduled at The Stitchin’ Station. “She’s working today. We’ll get something for her.”

  They drove the same road they’d traveled with Pearl two months ago, but this time neither of them were silent. Silas pointed out the Three Sisters mountains. “That’s Faith, that one’s Hope and that’s Charity.”

  “Appropriate names for a Sunday afternoon.”

  “There’s a s-sermon in there somewhere.”

  “Do you know one? An old pioneer story or something? About how they got their names.” Celia asked.

  “I don’t.”

  “It seems like there should be one. An old legend or something.”

  Silas looked at her sideways. “You should make one up.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not good at making up stori
es.”

  “You’re giving up that easily? Come on. Those m-mountains deserve a story.”

  Celia shook her head again.

  “You’ve really let them down. They’ve b-been waiting all these years for you to come to Sisters and give them a legend.”

  Celia smiled. “Really? It’s my job? They’ve been here for thousands of years and no one’s given them a legend? You old-timers should be ashamed.” She turned toward the mountains. “Sorry Sisters, the people who have lived here enjoying your beauty for all these years have really let you down.”

  “And the one you’ve waited for for centuries is still letting you down.”

  The mood was light and Celia looked happy. “Oh no, you can’t put this on me. But...” Celia turned toward Silas, and when he saw the playful way she was looking at him, something seized inside of him.

  “What?” Silas gave her a suspicious sideways glance.

  “We could create a legend together. Back and forth. Line by line.” Silas looked doubtful. “Unless you’re afraid your lines will stink.”

  Silas laughed and shrugged. “Okay. You first.”

  Celia looked thoughtful as she studied the mountains for a minute. “Thousands of years ago in a land of green trees and blue skies, a woman gave birth to three little girls.”

  Silas nodded. “Not bad.”

  “Not bad? It was great. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

  “Their parents named them M-Mary, Sherri, and... Larry.”

  Celia looked appalled. “I said three little girls. Larry?”

  “I couldn’t think of something that rhymed with M-Mary and Sherri.”

  “Let’s see. Carrie. Jeri. Terri.”

  “Yeah. Those are better. You should have named them with your line, I guess.”

  “I guess so.” Celia folded her arms. “Ah ha. After a few days, the parents realized life would be very confusing if the girls had rhyming names, and they didn’t much like the name Larry anyway, so they renamed the girls Mary, Elizabeth and Gertrude.”

  “Gertrude is better than Larry?” Silas was laughing.

  “For a girl, yes.”

  “Okay.” Silas needed to come up with a good line. “The girls were p-pretty and grew to be very tall. Over ten thousand feet to be exact.”

  “It’s a legend. Not literal. What am I supposed to do with ten thousand foot tall girls?”

  “Hmm.” He rubbed his chin. “That’s your p-problem.”

  They drove at least a mile before Celia offered the next sentence. “One year, heavy snows came and covered the three sisters with beautiful, white dresses.”

  “P-people came from all over the world to climb up the sisters and s-ski down their skirts.”

  “Were there skiers thousands of years ago?” Celia asked.

  “There were in m-my legend. And don’t I get a little acknowledgement for that line? Ski down their skirts? It’s a good line.”

  Celia rocked her hand back and forth in a so-so way. Back and forth they went, adding to their story.

  “The sisters shouted to each other across the cold, winter air.”

  “‘I have more skiers than you,’ Gertrude said.”

  “‘But I’m more beautiful than you,’ said Elizabeth.”

  “‘I think we should stop fighting,’ M-M-Mary said.”

  “The sisters decided they should be best friends instead of rivals.”

  Silas looked at Celia. “I have nowhere to go with this.”

  They laughed, and Celia said, “Get creative.”

  It took a couple of minutes before Silas continued. “Since M-M-Mary was so wise, the three sisters decided they would stay together forever.”

  Celia nodded and got a teasing look on her face. “And then the sisters looked far into the future and saw that a kind man named Silas, who would someday work in their forests and write a long-overdue legend for them, had trouble saying Mary’s name, so they changed their names to Faith, Hope and Charity.” For a moment, Celia looked nervous, but relief filled her eyes when Silas started laughing, a real, joyful laugh.

  “And Faith, Hope, and Charity lived happily ever after,” he said without a stutter.

  They grinned at each other as Silas reached over and, for just a second, he squeezed Celia’s hand.

  Many people had teased Silas about his stutter. Every other time it had felt hurtful and had left him feeling insecure. He wondered how it was possible for it to feel so different this time.

  McKay’s Cottage was a craftsman-style home converted into a restaurant. Sunday brunch was a busy time and even though they were seating people inside and had more than a dozen tables set up around the yard, Silas and Celia still had to wait at the bottom of the stairs for twenty minutes. Servers in khakis and McKay’s Cottage t-shirts worked quickly and cheerfully.

  “This must be a fun place to work,” Celia said. “Everyone’s smiling.”

  “They p-probably get to eat while they work.”

  Celia hadn’t eaten breakfast, and as the servers walked by them carrying beautiful plates of food to the tables on the lawn, her mouth watered. It looked delicious. And expensive. She had a twenty dollar bill in her bag, but now she worried that might not be enough. A few minutes ago, the idea of spending it all on a meal at a restaurant would have horrified her, but the food looked so good and she was so hungry, all thoughts of frugality vanished, and she couldn’t wait to eat.

  When the hostess finally seated them, Celia opened the menu and couldn’t contain her smile. She could order whatever she wanted, and what she wanted was the meal she remembered Nancy raving about—the lemon ricotta pancakes with fresh berries.

  Had she ever had a nicer day? The peacefulness of church had calmed her turbulent feelings, and in spite of his conversation with Nancy, Silas had surprised her. She could tell he liked her. He had laughed at her teasing, had even touched her.

  A light breeze rustled in the trees and the umbrellas that shielded the tables from the sunshine flapped lightly. It carried the fragrance of the flowers that lined the front of the yard. Celia looked around at the people seated near them. There were some that looked like they’d come from church. A table of six not far from theirs talked about their morning hike. It was a cheerful setting, and she didn’t feel like an outsider looking in at others’ happiness. It felt like she fit in. Was it because of church or because of Silas? She didn’t really know, but for a few moments she felt contented and peaceful.

  When she took her first bite of pancakes, she sighed and Silas laughed. “That good, huh?” He was eating a salmon and potato hash.

  “This might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  They didn’t talk much as they ate—just occasional comments about the food. Mostly, Celia savored each bite and did her best to push aside thoughts that threatened to ruin this perfect day. This will bother Nancy. He wouldn’t be here with you if he knew you were pregnant. You’ll have to tell them some time. You won’t be able to hide it in a couple more months. As each thought crowded in, she beat it back. Didn’t she deserve a perfect day just once?

  She looked across the table and saw that Silas was sweeping crumbs from his scone into a little pile, his expression thoughtful. Was he thinking about what his aunt had said? Or maybe it was their conversation in the car. Why had she teased him about his stutter? He had seemed okay with it, but when she thought back on the things she’d said, it scared her that she had been so forward. Maybe he regretted following her to church and wished he were somewhere else.

  “Is everything okay?” She braced herself for his answer.

  Silas met her gaze then leaned forward.

  “Tell m-me about you.” His mouth stalled on the “m” long enough that she knew this wasn’t a casual question.

  Celia had prepared herself for whatever Silas had to say about himself or his feelings, but she hadn’t prepared herself for this. She didn’t like talking about herself. Her life made people uncomfortable and she didn’t want to spoil the day wi
th stories of drug addicted parents and disappointing foster homes. Or worse.

  Celia tried to laugh. “There’s not much to tell, really.”

  “Celia. Don’t. P-please. I want to know more about you.”

  He was so earnest, she knew she couldn’t joke or squirm her way out of an answer. She gave up and sighed. “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about your family.”

  Celia watched the perfect day slide over the horizon, and even though it was midday, she suddenly felt overcome by the coldness and darkness of her past. She blew out a deep breath and slumped back in her chair. She picked at a thread on her napkin and her voice was unemotional as she recited the bullet points of her life. “My dad left when I was a baby. I never knew him. My mom died when I was eleven. I lived in four foster homes after that. I got out of the system a little more than two years ago.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Not very exciting.”

  Silas didn’t answer immediately and Celia could see she had surprised him. “You have no family?”

  Celia shook her head.

  “No aunts or uncles?”

  “I have an uncle. I think he lives in Wisconsin, but his wife didn’t want to deal with a kid whose mom died in front of her of an overdose. Too much baggage to have me around their daughter. I never saw them after the funeral.”

  “Are you ready for your bill?” a friendly server asked.

  “I think so,” Silas said.

  “Could I get a scone and jam to go?” Celia asked the server. She turned to Silas. “We should take something to Nancy.” Silas nodded as Celia turned back to talk to the girl. “You can put the scone on my bill.”

  “Oh, so you want separate checks?”

  “No.” Silas pulled out his wallet. “I’m p-paying.”

  “I don’t mind—”

  “I invited you.”

  “Don’t fight him on it,” the server said. “Just bring him back sometime and treat him. It’s a win-win.”