Loving Levi Greene

Chapter 6: The Patchwork Dress

I awake to chirping birds and warm sun rays beaming through sheer curtains. I slept amazing last night. That was probably the best I've slept in months.

I blush at the thought of what could have caused such a deep slumber.

Stop.

I just woke up and I'm already letting my mind wonder to places that it has no business being. I am done with that now. I am moving on after yesterday from that whole....situation.

Today is a new day. I am determined to be positive and hopeful. Just because Levi wasn't my match, doesn't mean I won't find someone.

Besides, it's not particularly abnormal or unheard of to have multiple seasons. It's just not preferable.

I'm deciding right now, that I will have as many seasons as I need to, if that means my true love may one day come of it.

I jump out of bed and run to the bathroom to quickly brush my teeth. After, I take a brush and attempt to tame my dark locks into place. I pin my hair half up, half down, just so it will be out of my face.

Bending over the sink, I splash warm water onto my face. Satisfied, I walk back into my bedroom and take off my sleep gown. I go to my closet and grab one of my worn dresses that I only use to get dirty in the garden.

It's a faded blue, covered in patch work, and you can tell that I've had it a very long time. Mother used to have one just like it, and we'd match in the garden. We'd work side by side, plucking and weeding and laughing at silly things.

I look down at the dress.

I look at the stains.

I look at the patches that mom had sewn in over the years. We could have easily replaced the dresses for gardening, but we enjoyed "collecting" the patches we earned from hours of hard work.

Mom would stitch them in, sometimes with a similar blue, and others with an outlandish color. She'd always smile while stitching the colorful ones.

I'd watch her, amazed at her needlework. How she could even lead the thread through the eye of the needle, I'll never know.

I never wanted to know how to do it, I just wanted to watch her do it.

I assumed I'd always have her around to sew in my patches.

I allow myself one sad little smile in remembrance. Then I shake it off. Today is going to be a good day.

No sad thoughts about mom, and no rude boys.

I grab my gardening gloves and make my way down the staircase. I even have a little skip to my step.

When I realize this, I smile to myself. It's been way to long since I've been this excited about something.

I wonder if Abigail would want to go to town later just to be social. I am walking down the hallway headed to the backdoor, when the door to my father's study opens.

My father steps out, nose in a newspaper, and he doesn't even realize I am there. I realize that I've stopped walking and I froze.

I hate running into my father.

Most of the time, the house is big enough that we don't have this issue. The hallway is to long for me to turn around, and he'd notice me if I did, so I may as well face him. He never has much to say anyhow. It's the awkwardness I dread. I bite the bullet.

"Good morning father." I say a little too chipper.

Startled, he stops abruptly and looks down at me like I wasn't coming down the hallway first or something.