Blessings

She paused for a moment at the gate to Miss Winifred’s to stare at the house just down the street, across the way. The Darlings lived there. She should have guessed it that first day, but it had taken Miss Winifred to point it out. There were bicycles strewn across the driveway. Bright pink balls, a green plastic doll carriage and a child’s yellow jacket spilled across the still-shaggy grass.

But there were no flowers in the window boxes or tumbling out of the big urns that sat beside the front porch.

“Hey, it’s her!” Ruthie barreled out the front door and down the steps of her house, clad in a flowered pink nightgown and a pair of fuzzy slippers. “Hi, Doc! Remember me?”

“How could I forget?” Nicole grinned. “Hi, Ruthie. How’s the arm?”

“Oh, it’s all right. I hafta get this cast cut off pretty soon, though. Our class is going to take swimming lessons!”

“Hmm. That sounds like fun, but you’ll have to wear it until your arm is healed.” Nicole listened as the little girl chattered about her life.

“Ruthie? You’d better get your butt in here before Dad gets home.” An older version of Ruthie stood on the doorstep, glaring at her sister.

“Do you remember? That’s Rachel. She thinks she’s the boss, but she isn’t. She’s only one year older than me, and I’m six.”

“Ruthie!”

“Just a minute,” Ruthie yelled over her shoulder. She leaned closer to Nicole, her face screwed up in concern. “Quick! What am I supposed to call you? I can’t just say doctor all the time, can I?” Ruthie’s blue eyes darkened as she considered. “You did mean it when you said we’d be friends?”

It had been a ploy, something to get the child to trust her while she treated the arm. Nicole had never had sisters, never been around young children. She knew diddle about being their friend.

But something in this sprite’s eyes made her want to be Ruthie’s friend.

“Ruthie, I’m warning you!”

“I’m coming.” Dejected, Ruthie turned toward the house, slippers flopping as she walked.

“It’s Nicole. You can call me Nicole, Ruthie. And yes, I’d like to be your friend. If you want to.”

“Good.” Ruthie’s smile transformed her face as she raced back, ignoring her sister’s angry squeal. Her head tipped to one side. “But Nicole is what everyone calls you. You should have a special name, a friend name.” Her face tilted up, curiosity evident in the big blue eyes. “Don’t you have one?”

“A special name?” No one had ever called her anything but Nicole. Except her mother, she suddenly remembered. So long ago, when they’d snuggled together and read stories. That’s where Nici had come from.

“You could call me Nici,” she murmured. “My mother used to call me that.”

“Does she still?”

“She’s dead. She died when I was a little girl.”

“Hey,” Ruthie crowed, eyes blazing. “Just like me! My mom died, too. She always called me Ruthie. Now there’s just me an’ Rachel and Roz.” She lowered her voice, checked over one shoulder. “Sometimes I call her Rosie. An’ there’s my dad, of course. He sometimes calls me Ruth Ann. I like Ruthie better.”

“Then Ruthie it is.”

They grinned at each other like coconspirators. The low rumble of an engine drew Ruthie’s attention. She gulped, then offered a watery smile.

“Whoops! It’s my dad. I gotta go.”

She scurried toward the house, turning when she reached the top stair to smile and lift her hand. Her voice rang through the air as clear as a bell.

“See you tomorrow, Nici.” Then Ruthie slipped into her house.

“Good night, Ruthie. See you tomorrow.” Nicole waited just long enough to watch Dr. Darling try to steer into his littered driveway.

Then she turned and quickly walked through the gate and up to her temporary home, determined not to be there when he bawled those darling girls out for leaving their toys in his way.

The red door opened before she got there.

“My dear, what a long day you’ve had!” Miss Winifred ushered her inside. “Come along, I’ve got a bowl of chili just waiting for you, and some of my fresh kaiser rolls to go with it.”

“Sounds perfect.” Nicole shed her coat and bag at the entrance, then followed her hostess through to the kitchen. “Smells good, too.”

She sat down obediently, whispered a quick grace and sampled the big fluffy roll.

“These are wonderful! Did you have a good day at your bakery?”

Nicole knew for a fact that her hostess had risen before four this morning in order to get a head start, and yet Miss Winifred looked as fresh as she always did.

“Yes, thank you, dear. We had a lovely time. Furly Bowes, she’s my assistant, you know. Well, Furly got there long before me, had all the breads nicely rising. We had our cases filled before nine. I do love it when that happens. Folks appreciate a full selection.”

Miss Winifred walked over to the counter and returned with a plain white box with red script running across one corner. Nicole read it surreptitiously. “Blessing Bakery—made with love.”

“I brought you one of my specialties.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have! Not when I’m such a push-over for anything baked.” Nicole savored the last spoonful of chili with a smile. “We used to have a housekeeper who made shortbread at Christmas. It literally melted in your mouth.”

Now, where had that come from? The people of Blessing, Colorado, didn’t need to know the details of her pathetic past. Nicole lifted the lid of the small square box.

“Oh! It’s a big cookie.”

“One of my love cookies. I only make them when I feel the Lord gives me a special message to pass on.” She sat down across from Nicole, her eyes sparkling. “Go ahead, read it.”

With gentle fingers lest she damage the flaky, heart-shaped cookie, Nicole lifted it out of the box. Vivid red icing spelled out a message.

“All sunshine makes a desert.” Puzzled, she looked across at Miss Winifred. “It’s very nice.”

“Oh, it’s not just nice, dear. Those are words to live by. Problems come to us for a reason and help us appreciate the good times far more than we would have without them. Here, let me pour you some tea to go with that.” She tipped her cornflower teapot, allowing the fragrant aroma of black currents to waft through the room.

“This tea is like nectar.” Nicole sipped again, then broke off a tiny corner of the cookie and ate it. “Your cookies are delicious, too, Miss Winifred. I promise I’ll think about your words.”

“Thank you.” The older woman fiddled with her cup, her forehead wrinkled. Finally she looked up at Nicole. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, dear, and I’m afraid that’s caused you some hurt.”

“What do you mean?”

“Today was difficult, wasn’t it?”

Nicole quickly glanced away. She had no desire to answer.

“I knew it would be.”