The Eyes Have It

  Chapter 29

  “Nice job, Susan,” I complimented as I examined the side seam she had just finished sewing.

  “I messed up here,” she complained, pointing to the slight wobble in the stitching.

  “You’re too hard on yourself,” I smiled. “In some cultures a flaw is considered good luck and they do it on purpose, insisting that only God is perfect.”

  “Well, I’m sure not,” Susan said in self-disgust.

  “No one will ever notice,” I assured her. “You do beautiful wor…”

  I broke off, as a sharp pain shot through me. Gripping the table to keep from falling, I heard the shocked voice of Phyllis, the girl sitting at the sewing machine behind Susan asking, “Mrs. Wilson, what’s that?”

  I couldn’t turn around to look, but I felt wetness running down my leg. There was just enough time for me to register that she must have been referring to the blood soaking my lightly colored maternity pants before I passed out.