The Seam Sorceress

Old Superstition, part 2.

"How she doing?" Tilly asked.

"Well as she can," Sprout said. "She was up this morning for maybe an hour. Just didn't have the energy."

"Even with the yellow paisley dress?"

"Even with the yellow paisley dress," the young Lafayette repeated. "She laid back down but started hollering an hour later. Said her leg was hurting. The one that's missing."

"Bless her heart." Tilly took a step towards the bed but couldn't bring herself to move any further, as though her presence would cause Mama to shatter into a thousand pieces. "What's with the flowers?"

"They're Sleeping Beauties," Sprout said. "They grow all over the place down in Fair Briar."

"That's over the mountain, ain't it? How'd you get some?"

"They just showed up a few days ago," Sprout explained. "Pretty mean stuff if you steep the petals in some tea. Lot stronger than that fuzzleberry you used in the MacGregor's quilt."

"So that's how you've laid her out." Tilly nodded. "Dr. Crabbe don't wanna treat her no more. Said there's no purpose."

Sprout's eyebrows arched above her goggles. "Can he do that?"

"Reckon so." Tilly looked down at her feet. "Listen, sis—I might have to go away for a while."

"Away? Where to?" Sprout asked. "Can I come?"

"Honey, I'd like you to, but somebody's gotta look after Mama." Tilly squirmed from guilt. "It's GP, he said the fair might hire me. Maybe I could do some sewing for them. They'd pay me enough—I'd be able to get that silver thread and everything else we need licketysplit."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry. I'd do just about anything to switch places with you. You've always been the more outgoing one." Tilly swept her fingers through her sister's unruly hair. "But I might be gone weeks or months, and Mama'll need to eat to keep her strength up. You think you can do that?"

"Of course I can." Something in those words made Sprout straighten with importance. "I've been feeding this house since I was born, haven't I?"

Tilly leaned down to give Sprout a hug. "You're the best girl for the job. I know I can count on you."

The room froze as Mama gave a whimper of pain. She was stirring.

"You got any more tea?" Tilly asked once she remembered how to breathe.

"Downstairs," Sprout answered. "Don't you wanna say goodbye to her? Tell her where you're going?"

"I would, but I'm afraid she wouldn't let me," Tilly said. "Best hurry on. I gotta pack anyway."

With a nod, Sprout crept to the door, her gaze never leaving their mother's sleeping form. "Love you, sis."

Tilly smiled. "I love you too."

As Sprout's footsteps thundered down the stairs, Tilly pried open the trunk. There was plenty of extra room for the MacGregor's unfinished quilt and her shopping from Ma Hubbard's and the mercantile, which she thought would serve as fine examples of her work. Next, she opened the wardrobe, eyes fixed on the uppermost shelf. She took a steadying breathe and slid out a slim box and a small, ribboned basket.

For as long as she could remember, the top shelf of the wardrobe was off limits. While other girls had a hope chest, Tilly had the promise that one day her grandmother's worldly possessions would be hers. Though Mama had declared her old enough for the pattern book a few years prior, Granny's sewing kit and cloak still eluded her.

Until that day.

Tilly handled the sewing kit carefully. Its content wasn't too different from her own, but the scissors had a pretty gold handle and the needles were stored in a small, ornate case that hung from a chain like a pendant. Tilly slipped the necklace over her head, then put the kit away in the trunk. Then came the box.

A rush of moth balls mixed with old perfume struck Tilly as she lifted the lid. Folded inside was a luxurious red cloak, as bright and as pristine as the day it was made. The garment was heavy in her hands, which made sense—Granny's pattern book said that the gold coins lined the bottom hem, to bring good luck and better fortune to whoever wore it. She felt a little guilty sliding it on, but told herself that this was an emergency.

With everything packed away, Tilly took a step back and mentally checked off a list of things she'd need. A bit of gold caught her attention from the dresser as it glimmered in the column of sunshine cast by the open window.

The magic mirror.

Her stomach did a flip as she picked it up and stared into its surface. She wondered if the pretty, pale-faced girl in the reflection would've known how to kiss GP. A part of her wondered if maybe things would've been better if she was one on the outside, and Tilly was the one stuck inside the mirror.

Something yanked on her hem. Annoyed, Tilly shoved it away, transfixed by her reflection. Then a pair of sharp teeth encircled her ankle. She bit back a cry, the mirror clattering to the dress. "What the heck was that for?"

"You okay?" Booger asked. "You been staring at that thing for five minutes. Ain't said a peep the whole time."

"I'm fine." Tilly stashed the mirror in the trunk and shut the lid. She kissed her mother's forehead in an unsaid goodbye. "I'm just fine."