The Restoration of Celia Fairchild - Marie Bostwick Page 0,102

I lost my courage, hope, or sense of humor, Calvin renewed them. When I lost my job and livelihood, suddenly there was a house and Trey, a champion to fight my battles and keep the wolf from the door. It was all there when I needed it, but not a moment before. And it wasn’t always about me. So often, the solution to problems I’d never foreseen came in the form of people who needed me just as much as I needed them.

I desperately needed a contractor and suddenly, there was Lorne, who desperately needed a second chance. I longed for a family connection and along came Teddy, who needed the exact same thing. I needed friends, practical help, encouragement, and a sense of belonging, and there was Felicia, Pris, Caroline, Polly, and even Happy, each of whom came with her own set of needs and gaps that the rest of us helped to fill, each in our own way.

I’d never really had women friends before, not close ones. I’d had acquaintances and colleagues but not real girlfriends. Calvin was my best friend and always would be, but I had never had a wide circle of female friends. I hadn’t known I needed them. Now, only a month after that first dinner, I couldn’t imagine my life without these women. Did they feel the same? I thought so. I hoped so.

Ostensibly, we were getting together to make stuff, but what we were really creating was a safe space, a space where we could be real with each other. When I say it like that, it sounds like some big touchy-feely group therapy session, but it was different from that, easier and more organic. We weren’t trying to be known or heard or understood; we just were.

The Sunday before, Teddy had invited me to go to church with him. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced before, much different from the quiet, orderly services I’d attended as a child at St. Philip’s, with everyone murmuring prewritten prayers in unison. Everyone seemed so excited to be there. Whenever someone new came through the door, the faces of those who’d entered previously lit up with joyous recognition, and they gathered around the newcomer for greetings, embraces, and backslaps, as if seven months had passed since their last meeting instead of only seven days, and Sunday was the day they looked forward to all week long. The service was the definition of spontaneous. Whenever anyone, whether pastor or parishioner, shared some insight or observation, be it large or small, the congregation would nod, murmur, or amen, or sometimes just lift a hand, as if to be counted present. It took a little getting used to but I liked the feeling that they were simply there for one another, listening with empathy, affirming with compassion, wholly available to the moment and each another.

That was how I felt about my new friends. We were really still getting to know each other, but the more I did know, the more I wanted to know. Monday was now my favorite day of the week. Was Someone trying to tell me something? It seemed possible. At least so far.

But . . . what now? What next? What if?

I picked up another ball of yarn, looped it around the needle, changing the color from sapphire to dandelion. There was only this moment, this day, this room, this stitch, these thoughts. I worked there in silence, looping the yarn and pulling it through again, and again, and again, adding inch after inch to the blanket meant to wrap the child my heart was so ready to love.

Calm fell over me like a soft mist and I tied a mental knot in my memory, to remind myself about just-in-time inventory and the futility of worry and the seemingly contradictory truth that sometimes the freedom to be yourself can only be found by tethering yourself to others.

I needed to write it all down, for Peaches. Someday she would need to know what it had taken me so long to learn.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Oh, look! Another pot holder! Just what I needed.” Polly lifted my offering from the wrapping paper and held it aloft so the others could see before putting it down on her lap and wiping tears from both eyes.

“You people are ridiculous.”

Today was Polly’s last day in business. Happy had suggested we move the weekly crafting get-together from my house to Sheepish so everyone could help pack what was left of Polly’s considerable