Winter of Wishes by Charlotte Hubbard Page A

into bed, so you’ll
     have some peace and quiet for a while.”
    When she caught a movement in the hallway, Rhoda waved at the woman who was shuffling
     slowly behind her walker. “Ah, but your mamm ’s outta bed. Betty and I’ll have a nice cup of tea to start our day. Don’t worry
     about a thing, Andy.”
    The lines on his face nearly disappeared as he smiled at her. “I so appreciate all
     you do for me, Rhoda—and for my family,” he added quickly.
    Was there a new intensity, a wistfulness, in his reply? Or was she hearing Andy’s
     words with wishful ears?
    Don’t let me get all wrapped up in Andy’s kindness, thinkin’ he’s interested in me , she prayed. She watched his car back into the street and then fishtail on the packed
     snow. Keep him safe, Lord. A lot of folks depend on him.
    Rhoda went into the kitchen then, saddened by the way Betty labored to walk. She quickly
     pulled out a chair so the poor old soul could land in it. Betty’s white hair stuck
     out in tufts and her chenille robe looked as if she’d eaten a few meals with unsteady
     hands. “It’s gut to see ya up and about on this snowy morning,” she said in a cheerful voice. “Will
     ya have a cup of hot tea with me? Maybe some eggs and toast or a bowl of oatmeal?”
    Betty’s face brightened. “Snow?” she mumbled.
    “ Jah , the kids’re home from school today, but they’re sleepin’ in. So it’s just you and
     me for a while.” Rhoda stooped to smile directly into Betty’s eyes, pleased to see
     that her inner lights were burning even if her muscles couldn’t fully show it. “You’d
     feel better if we got ya showered and into a clean nightgown and robe, ain’t so?”
    Andy’s mother held her gaze, maintaining the connection between them for as long as
     she could. Then she looked down at Rhoda’s shoulders. “I . . . like your dress,” she
     said with some difficulty. “No . . . buttons.”
    Rhoda’s eyebrows rose. “Are ya sayin’ you’d wear daytime clothes if ya could fasten
     them easier?”
    Betty nodded eagerly, fingering Rhoda’s sleeve. “I’ve got . . . a sewing machine.
     Fabric, too.”
    Rhoda’s heart thumped faster. Andy’s mamm seemed to be emerging from behind the damage her stroke had done, back into being
     interested in everyday life. “I sew all my own dresses, ya know. I could make ya somethin’
     simple—”
    “Like your dress. Apron, too.” Her eyes were shining and clear, alert to this new
     idea. “Mother . . . always wore aprons . . . at home.”
    “So you’re wantin’ a Plain dress? I could make ya some of those in my sleep.” Her
     mind raced, eager to begin this worthwhile project. “And if ya have snaps, I could
     put them down the dress front so ya could put them on yourself, ain’t so?”
    Oh, but Betty smiled! While Rhoda suspected it would take a lot of time and therapy
     before Andy’s mother could fasten her clothing, who was she to dampen Betty’s excitement
     by saying so? The two of them ate their eggs and drank their tea faster than she would’ve
     thought possible. Once they got to Betty’s room, Betty showed Rhoda a walk-in closet
     that held bins of neatly folded fabrics, spools of thread, and a console sewing machine
     that hadn’t been opened for a long while, judging from the stuff sitting on top of
     it.
    “Now we’re cookin’!” Rhoda slung her arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “Let’s
     get ya cleaned up first, and then we’ll sew up a new dress!”
    Betty moved much faster as she got cleaned up, excited about having something new
     to wear. While she was in the shower, Rhoda chose some fabric pieces large enough
     for winter-weight dresses. She found some coordinating prints and colors that would
     work for aprons, too. It intrigued her, the bright array of colors and bold patterns
     Andy’s mother had chosen when she was sewing for herself.
    “Rhoda?” a little voice spoke behind her.
    Rhoda turned and then giggled: