Broken Things to Mend Read online

  “Well, welcome to town. It’s a great place to live. Don’t let them scare you about Nancy’s garden. She’s been doing it herself for longer than I’ve been here, so I’m sure between the two of you, you’ll be fine.”

  Nancy was talkative as they drove home after the class.

  “I’m glad you came with me tonight. You should plan on coming from now on. If you don’t mind helping me put the kits together, we’ll count that as your class fees.”

  “I enjoyed it. It was a lot faster using a sewing machine,” Celia said.

  Nancy laughed. “I’m sure it was. And it’ll be good for you to get to know some of the other folks in town. There are some real fine people here.”

  “Lisa was nice.”

  “She’s a sweet girl. James did all right for himself. She loves coming to class and getting a little break from those three wild boys of hers.”

  The light on the front porch glowed as they pulled into the driveway.

  “Well look at that,” Nancy said. “Silas must have come by and changed out that lightbulb. Wouldn’t ya know, he’d come when we’re gone.”

  Celia had been living with Nancy for three weeks now, and Silas hadn’t been by since the night they had worked on the puzzle together. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t like her. Was she causing Nancy not to be able to see her nephew?

  “Does he come over very often?” Celia asked.

  “More than he has lately. I guess things have been busy for him at work.”

  “Are you sure it’s not because of me?”

  “Oh, I don’t think it’s that at all. Adam—that’s his boss—probably has him running around on some project. Don’t you worry. You watch. He’ll start coming around all the time and you’ll wish he’d stay away.”

  Celia wasn’t sure she believed Nancy, but she let it go.

  “I used to think I wanted more than an acre,” Nancy said as they walked across what would soon be the garden. “I even asked Grant if he’d sell me part of his place.” She pointed to a small farm adjacent to hers. “Thank goodness he said no. An acre is enough. I can rotate the plants enough to keep the soil healthy, and I have all I want to eat and enough to sell. It’s plenty big.”

  Celia hadn’t known how big an acre was, so Nancy had suggested they take a walk and map it out for planting.

  “I grew a garden one year when I was a kid,” Celia said. “But it was a little, back-yard thing. A couple of tomatoes and some zucchini. Nothing like this.”

  “Did you like it?”

  Celia nodded. “I liked watching things grow.”

  “There’s something wonderful about raising your own garden—getting your hands dirty and watching those plants change from seeds to food on the table. We’ll start planting in the next week or two. I’ll have Silas come and rototill for me. I used to do it myself, but a few years ago, I turned it over to him. It’s a hard thing to admit you’re too old to do something you love.”

  Celia had gone to bed when she heard Nancy say her name. Thinking she was calling for her, she opened the door, then stopped when she realized Nancy was speaking to someone on the phone.

  “Say you’ll come to dinner. You haven’t been by in weeks, and she’s starting to think it’s because of her.” Nancy waited for an answer. It had to be Silas. “We’ll plan on you Thursday. Oh, by the way, do you think you have time to rototill the garden for me? It’s about that time.”

  Celia quietly moved back into her room. She didn’t want Nancy to think she’d been eavesdropping.

  “Thank you. Saturday is great. I know you’re busy, and I really do appreciate it.”

  Celia held the handle and silently closed the door. Silas was coming to dinner on Thursday, and she wanted to make him comfortable. She felt certain he had stayed away because of her, and that wasn’t fair to Nancy. Nancy had been so kind to her. Somehow she had to figure out a way to keep Silas from running away.

  Celia found the key to the shed on a hook by the back door. The key stuck in the padlock and for a brief moment, she was afraid it might break, but then it clicked and slid open. She let her eyes adjust to the dim interior before she started exploring. She had watched a YouTube video about rototilling on Nancy’s computer this morning, so she had an idea what one looked like and felt confident she could figure out how to use it.

  Behind the lawn mower and a snow blower, she found it. There was even a can of gasoline on the shelf.

  Celia wrestled the tiller out the door, moving it from side to side inching it forward. It was heavier than she thought it would be. Once out of the shed, it was easier to lift it up on its wheels and move it to the corner of the garden.

  Nancy had filled the crock pot before she went to work this morning, so there was nothing to do for dinner. Celia had straightened the house and vacuumed the floors, but by noon, she was bored, and the sunshine was calling her outside. The rototilling tutorials left Celia feeling confident she could plow the garden herself.

  If only she could get the machine started.

  She pulled the starting cord as hard as she could and almost tipped the tiller over. After several tries, she went back to the shed and brought out the gas can. The cap was on so tight it took a few minutes of work to get it open, but when she finally did, she poured the fuel into the rototiller. It took more than she expected it would, which made her hopeful that now it would be easier to start.

  It only took two tries to start it up after she had added fuel. She pushed the bar down and the tines digging into the ground jolted the machine, startling her. She held the handle tightly and began to slowly move forward, trying to match her moves to those of the overall-clad YouTube teacher she had watched. Don’t bury the tines too deeply. Move slowly to dig the soil evenly.

  The roar of the engine drowned out the world and Celia was left with the vibrations of the tiller and the thoughts in her head. It had been a crazy five weeks, but here she was, in Sisters, Oregon.

  I came to Oregon, Mom. I’m really here. She wondered what her mother would think about Sisters. The people she had met were so kind. No one knew about her past here. To them she was a normal girl working for Nancy.

  A normal girl. It had been a long, long time since Celia had felt like she was something more than the freak foster kid whose junkie mom had overdosed.

  Celia reached the end of the long row. The words from the tutorial ran through her mind as she made the turn. Lift the tines out of the soil and turn it around, then start again.

  The sun slipped behind a cloud and the wind picked up, chilling her cheeks and fingers, but she felt strong as she pushed the tiller through the dirt. A peace she hadn’t known since she was a little girl came over her.

  Suddenly tears were streaming down her face. Why was she crying? Sure, she felt grateful to be here, in Oregon, where kind people had given her a chance to work. But tears? Was it because she felt tired? Was there pollen in the air? She knew it was neither of those things. She tried to wipe the tears onto her shoulder as she moved up the row, but they kept coming and finally she gave up.

  With her back to the road and the engine filling her ears, she didn’t hear Silas until he was beside her. She jumped and let go of the rototiller. Untethered to the ground, it jerked and swayed until Silas grabbed it and turned it off.

  He opened his mouth to say something then saw her wet cheeks and stopped. “Are you okay?”

  Embarrassed for him to see her like this, Celia wiped the tears away with her now freed hands. “I’m fine.”

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are,” he said, nodding and trying not to show his amusement at her denial.

  Celia shook her head. “You’re right. I was crying. Maybe it’s because you scared me to death. I don’t like it when people sneak up on me.” How had she not noticed what a good face he had? It was hard to pull her gaze from the little smile that played hide and seek on his lips.

  “I wasn’t sneakin
g.” He pointed to the lane at the Jeep Celia would have heard if the engine hadn’t been so loud. “What are you doing, anyway?”

  “I’m rototilling.”

  “You know how?”

  “I watched a YouTube video.”

  Silas laughed. “You did?”

  “Yes.” Celia’s back stiffened. “You can learn a lot on YouTube.”

  “B-but why? Aunt Nancy asked m—” His lips pursed and his face turned red. She could tell he was embarrassed so she looked back at the wide strip of dark earth so he wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable. It took a few seconds but finally he finished. “—me to do it.”

  “I was bored. And I think I’m doing a good job.” Celia swept her hand to take in the rows she had tilled.

  “You are.”

  “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I just got off.”

  “What time is it?”

  Silas pulled his phone from his shirt pocket and held it up for Celia to see. It was after five. She had been working for more than three hours.

  “I didn’t know it was so late. I need to go in and make a salad.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll p-put it away.”

  “Thanks,” Celia said.

  Inside, she washed her face and changed her clothes. She had planned to shower, but that was now out of the question. She knew she had told Nancy she would make the salad, but her arms ached and she felt like all her energy had abandoned her. She curled up on the bed until she heard the screen door bang shut. Then she pulled herself up and headed to the kitchen.

  “Got ambitious, huh?” Nancy said, smiling.

  “I figured I should get to work.”

  “You did a good job,” Nancy said. “Nice even rows.”

  “And she wasn’t even crying,” Silas said. Celia turned on him with a glare, but he was smiling, and she realized there was no cruelty in his words, so she smiled back.

  Nancy studied them and was about to say something when the crock pot began beeping. “I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

  “Starving.” Celia said.

  They ate shredded pork sandwiches and salad and talked about The Stitchin’ Station and the forest thinning Silas and his crew had finished by Camp Sherman. Exhaustion seeped into her bones and she sank into the back of her chair.

  “You should see the machines they use for thinning,” Nancy said. “They make that rototiller look like a toy.”

  “Too m-much for you,” Silas said.

  Celia gave him a tired smile. “I don’t know. Once I get that field tilled, I might be ready to move on to bigger and better things.”

  “One afternoon and you’re already cocky,” Silas teased.

  “I watched some rototilling races on YouTube,” said Celia, making Silas and Nancy laugh. “Those people are crazy.”

  Silas loaded up another sandwich, but Celia shook her head when Nancy offered her seconds. Something wasn’t settling well and she began feeling a little sick. She swallowed and held still, trying to calm her stomach.

  “You feeling okay?” Nancy asked.

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” Celia said, but a few seconds later, she excused herself and went to the bathroom.

  She splashed water on her clammy face and sat down on the edge of the tub, taking several deep breaths to quell the nausea. It didn’t work and soon she was kneeling in front of the toilet, retching.

  When the violent spasms in her stomach settled, she rinsed her mouth. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was surprised at the dark circles under her eyes. She’d been getting plenty of sleep, even taking naps some days, so why was she so weary? She had always felt a little more tired during that time of the month. Maybe...

  What was the date? Why hadn’t...

  And then a panic seized her.

  No, no, no. Please no.

  The peace and strength she had felt working in the garden were gone, and in their place was a fear unlike any she had ever felt.

  An order of Amy Butler fabrics had arrived this morning, and Nancy was putting out bolts of the new cloth when the bell on the front door rang. It was Celia.

  “Ooh, these are pretty,” she said, and touched a bolt of orange and turquoise paisley.

  “Some good pieces came in. You should pick out something new to work on.”

  Celia nodded and opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. Lately, it had seemed like Celia had a lot on her mind, but she was so reserved that Nancy had no idea what was bothering her.

  “Did you need me for something, or did you want to look around?”

  Celia took a deep breath and tried again. “Do you think I could get a job for a few hours a week? I could work here, or if you don’t need me, I could look for a job somewhere else. I need to have a little spending money. You know, for little things that come up.”

  Of course. Celia surely needed things an old woman wouldn’t have sitting around her house. Why hadn’t she thought of this? The poor girl.

  Celia looked uncomfortable, but continued. “Of course I wouldn’t let it interfere with the garden. I’ll make sure I take care of that. I—”

  Nancy held up her hand. “Say no more. Of course you need to have a little spending money. I know Val’s not hiring, but I have book club tomorrow night. I’ll ask around there. I can give you a few dollars to tide you over in the meantime.

  “No,” Celia said, shaking her head. “Thank you, but I don’t want to take your money. You’re already feeding me and giving me a place to live.”

  Not for the first time, Nancy wanted to pull the girl into her arms and hug her, but Celia held herself apart, and Nancy felt she’d be crossing a line Celia wasn’t comfortable with. But even though Celia was a determined girl, she seemed broken and fragile, like a china cup that’s been dropped and repaired too many times.

  Nancy nodded. “I’ll ask around.”

  “Thank you.” Celia looked relieved.

  Nancy didn’t wait for book club. She mentioned Celia’s desire to work a few hours a week to Val, who told her she thought Ellis was looking for a part-time girl at the Sisters Gallery. A phone call later, Celia had an interview arranged for the next afternoon. Nancy was eager to get home after work to see how the interview had gone.

  A happy Celia surprised Nancy with grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner. “I got the job.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “I hope you don’t mind that I fixed dinner.” Celia didn’t explain that she’d prepared grilled cheese sandwiches because it was the only thing that sounded like it might settle well on her unpredictable stomach.

  “Of course not. Let’s sit down and eat and you can tell me all about it.”

  They ate at the kitchen table, and Celia told Nancy about her interview. “Ellis said he’d like to go have lunch with his mother at a care center in Bend twice a week, so I’m going to work Tuesday and Thursday from eleven to two.”

  “Sounds like a good arrangement. Ellis is a good man. You’ll enjoy working for him. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get to see his little grandsons. Their mom sometimes leaves them there while she runs errands. They’re a mischievous little pair, but too cute to get mad at.”

  “Thank you for talking to Ellis. I doubt he’d have hired me if it weren’t for you.”

  “I only got your foot in the door. Ellis is a picky man. He wouldn’t have hired you if he hadn’t liked you.”

  “He said good things about you, too. I’m sure living with you didn’t hurt.” Celia paused. “I don’t want you to worry about me being too busy. I won’t let anything interfere with my work for you.”

  Nancy put her spoon back in her bowl. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

  A brief look of panic passed over Celia’s face. “Okay.”

  “I know you’re a good worker. You didn’t even wait for Silas to do the tilling, and every day I’ve worked, I’ve come home to a spotless house. But this arrangement doesn’t mean you’re my indentured servant. It doesn’t mean you
have to ask permission to do things. If you want to eat something, eat it. If you want to go to a movie, go to a movie. I like having you here and I want you to be happy.”

  Celia looked relieved and nodded.

  “If I would have known it meant coming home to a clean bathroom and dinner already made, I would have taken in a boarder a long time ago,” Nancy said and took another bite of her sandwich.

  “But then you might not have had room for me.”

  “You’ve got a point there.”

  The mood was lighter than it had been for several days.

  “So if I want to make cookies with those chocolate chips in the pantry, I don’t have to ask?”

  Nancy laughed. “You’re catching on. When you make them, be sure to make enough for Silas or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  After dinner, Nancy and Celia worked on a cupcake puzzle while Nancy told Celia about the Sisters Quilt Festival.

  “It’s later this summer.” Nancy gave Celia a serious look. “You will be here for it, right?”

  “The garden will still be growing, so of course I’ll be here for it.”

  “Good. You’ll enjoy it. It’s the largest outdoor quilt show in the world. Last year we had over a thousand quilts exhibited around town.”

  “Sisters hardly seems big enough to display that many quilts.”

  “For a small town, we manage to have a lot of fun. Did you say you lived in the city?”

  Celia had never said exactly where she came from. Every question about her past was met with short, evasive answers.

  “Yes. I definitely like the small town better.”

  “Illinois, right?”

  Celia nodded.

  “I went to St. Louis many years ago. It was nice, but I don’t think I could live there. Were you close to St. Louis?”

  Celia picked up the box lid and found the cupcake with the pink sprinkles. “A suburb of Chicago.”

  Nancy wanted to clap her hands and let out a whoop. This wasn’t terribly specific, but it was the first time Celia had willingly shared some of her history, and Nancy wasn’t sure whether to be satisfied for the time being or keep digging for more of Celia’s past.