Free Pennsylvania Patchwork by Kate Lloyd

shoulder-height. “Whose figurine?”
    â€œRemember the package delivered during the noon meal?” I relived the disappointment when I spotted the FedEx truck instead of Zach’s pickup.
    Armin drew closer. “A couple years back, I saw one almost identical to this in an antique shop in Philadelphia. The owner said it was from Southeast Asia.”
    â€œWhat were you doing in an antique shop?” my mother asked him.
    â€œA better question would be what was Armin doing in Philadelphia?” Mommy Anna waggled a finger at Armin.
    â€œBuying a present for someone.”
    â€œI hope you didn’t purchase anything like this doll.” Mommy Anna’s words sounded like a reprimand.
    â€œNee.” Armin skimmed his fingertips along his jawline. “As a matter of fact, I bought a teacup.”
    I wondered if the cup was for Lynnea, but would wait and ask later.
    â€œWhere did this doll come from?” he asked.
    â€œAccording to a letter that arrived with it, my dad gave it and some fabric to a war buddy during the evacuation of Saigon.” I pointed to the silk. “Apparently Dad asked the man to make sure Mom got these. The guy finally tracked her down. We think.”
    â€œHe could have located the wrong Samuel Fisher,” my mother said.
    â€œYah, there are many Samuel Fishers in this county alone,” Armin said.
    My shoulders slumped.
    â€œNo matter, I don’t want that fancy doll in the house,” Mommy Anna protested. “’Tis a bad influence on my grandchildren.”
    â€œThey live clear across the country.” Mom folded the fabric.
    Mommy Anna pointed a gnarled finger. “That shiny material either, Esther.”
    â€œSince these items were sent to me, I should determine their fate,” my mother said solemnly. It occurred to me she might be missing Dad as much as I did.
    My mother picked up the letter with her free hand as Mommy Anna reached for it. “So, you’re determined to write this fella,” my grandmother said.
    â€œYah, I must.” Mom’s pale face appeared haggard. A nest of fine lines gathered at the outer corners of her eyes. “I can’t ignore his gesture of kindness.”
    â€œIf that’s what it is,” Mommy Anna said. “Don’t it seem odd your Samuel would send you a doll wearing gaudy makeup and high heels?”
    â€œYah, that is a mystery,” Mom said.
    Mommy Anna’s voice grew harsh. “That material was meant for a woman of the streets, if you catch my gist. And, like Armin said, there are many Samuel Fishers in these parts.”
    â€œBut he sent the doll to Seattle, not here,” I said.
    â€œDon’t get your hopes up, darling girl,” Mommy Anna said to me.
    I noticed Armin receding from the room. “Wait a second,” I said. “I’ll come with you.” I funneled my words to my mother. “I want to look at the doll more closely when I get back.”
    â€œOkay, I’ll put it in my bedroom.”
    â€œThanks.” For the first time I was grateful my grandmother had difficulty climbing the stairs.
    I trailed Armin into the kitchen, grabbed my jacket, and followed him through the utility room and out to the back stoop. Rascal was tied at the bottom to the post railing. He yawned loudly, then yapped.
    The sky was as blue and wide as an ocean, but a current of cool air tickled my cheeks. I was glad I’d remembered a jacket. Yet Armin didn’t seem to need one.
    â€œWant to go for a walk with me?” I asked Rascal, and untied the rope.
    â€œWhere ya headed?” Armin asked.
    â€œI haven’t decided. I might go to my other grandparents’ farm. The Fishers.”
    â€œJeremiah and Beatrice? Please don’t take Rascal over there without me, what with their aggressive dog.”
    â€œOh, yeah, you’re right. They don’t call him Wolfie for nothing.” I recalled my encounter with