A Thousand Little Blessings Read Free

you and Henry are doing.”
    Etta accompanied them to the front door, thanked them again, and watched them drive away. When the last automobile had disappeared, she slumped against the door frame and allowed the quiet to seep into her bones. Things would never be the same without her mother, but at least she and her father could relax now that everyone had left.
    Sara walked through the front parlor and hurried to Etta’s side. “Oh, Etta. Are you all right?”
    Etta straightened her spine and faced the other woman. “I’m fine.”
    Sara wrapped her arms around Etta’s shoulders and held her close. “I know I’m not your mother, but I hope you’ll call when you need something. I’m only a few minutes away.”
    Etta returned Sara’s embrace, glad to have her mother’s best friend looking out for her. Sara had been part of her mother’s life as long as Etta could remember. She’d often traveled to Pennsylvania with her mother to visit Etta at school, and her mother’s letters always contained news about what she and Sara were working on. They co-chaired church committees, worked on numerous fund-raising campaigns for the town library, and hosted one social after another. If Etta could step away from her own sorrow, she’d surely see how sorely Sara grieved the loss of her best friend. “Thank you for all your help, Sara. I couldn’t have handled everything without you.”
    “I don’t believe that for a second, but it’s the least I could do. Would you like to walk over to my house? We could have a cup of tea and a long talk, or simply sit and do nothing.”
    Sara’s house was only five minutes away, but even that short walk seemed overwhelming. “Maybe later. I want to make sure Papa gets some rest.”
    “That’s good advice for you, too.” Sara kissed Etta’s forehead and stepped through the front door. “I’ll check on you both tomorrow.”
    After watching Sara make her way to the footbridge connecting the Benson property to the Davis land, Etta closed the front door and walked quietly to the wall of windows in the dining room. Her father sat by himself in the courtyard, his head resting in his hand. “Help my Papa, Lord,” she whispered. “Only You know the depth of his grief. Only You can alleviate his pain.”
    Etta’s footsteps echoed on the stairs as she made her way to her bedroom. She’d wanted the visitors to leave, but now that the house was silent, the hollow feeling at the pit of her stomach intensified. Her mother’s gentle presence was gone from the house but not from her heart. She’d see her mother again someday, but Etta dreaded the years of sorrow that lay ahead of her.
    At the top of the staircase, Etta came face-to-face with the closed door of her mother’s sewing room. A shaft of afternoon sunlight blinded her as she swung the door open, and her mother’s scent, a blend of lavender and vanilla, wafted around her. A man’s unfinished dressing gown lay on a table, probably a gift for her father, and piles of folded fabric were stacked on a ladder-back chair. How her mother had loved to sew. Etta knew little more than how to hem a skirt or mend a torn seam, but her mother had loved to design everything from evening gowns to curtains.
    Etta sat at the machine and ran her fingers over a stack of blue and white quilt squares. Her mother hadn’t made many quilts, but she did occasionally join Sara’s quilting bees when the ladies of the church gathered to make one as a way to raise funds.
    Etta caressed her cheek with one quilt square. Just last week, her mother had been her usual busy self, softly singing a hymn as she arranged yellow roses in a crystal vase. This week, she was gone, one of the many victims snatched away by Spanish influenza.
    How long would it take until grief loosened its jagged talons? If Etta could open a doorway to heaven, she’d step right in, pay a visit, and then return to her normal life. She yearned for her mother’s loving touch, but she