Rod Stewart got it right. Some guys—and gals—have all the luck.

Some guys and gals have ancestors who left them treasure troves of photographs, letters, books, diaries, heirloom possessions. They can look into the eyes of their own history, turn the same pages their ancestors turned, hold in their hands the same beloved objects.

Then there are the elusive forebears who left us nothing but mystery and just enough fact to pique fascination.

Annie, the indelible heroine of The River by Starlight, was such a person. I would bristle if you called her a black sheep but I think maybe her family did. She met with misfortune early in adulthood and appears to have separated herself, geographically and emotionally, from her immediate kin. No one remains who knew her. At least no one who will talk.

When I first learned Annie’s story, I admired her as one bowed but undefeated by catastrophe, who rebuilt her life against daunting odds. I wanted her in my life, and wished dearly for some tangible object that would connect our kindred spirits. It seemed impossible.

Do you believe, as many do, that there are no coincidences? Nowadays, we can thank eBay for that, because one fine day, an astonishing thing popped up on my laptop screen.

Fleisher’s Knitting and Crocheting Manual for 1912 featured patterns for four shawls, all shown in white. The vision leaped before me—the lacy fabric flowing from Annie’s needles as she made a bridal shawl for her 1912 winter wedding.

If Annie had left us no heirlooms, I would make one.

It had to be authentic and it had to be “her,” so I searched out yarn that would have been available in her time. That narrowed the options down to wool, silk and linen. From the bottom shelf of a mill end store, the perfect plain eggshell wool found me. Three separate elements of the Fleisher patterns came together as one.

She adds a log to the stove and settles into the chair across the table from his. Her face reflects the amber light as she knits from a ball of cream-colored wool without looking at her needles. A lacy garment flows into her lap.

 ~Chapter 7, The River by Starlight

The lacy fabric flowed from my needles and the shawl that emerged was indeed “her.” One of a kind.

This shawl is no one-occasion wonder; its versatility has amazed and delighted me. Annie is with me everywhere.  At the theatre, at school, at work. Visiting friends, strolling the neighborhood, traveling the continent—and here, sitting in bed at 5:00 a.m. writing about creating an heirloom worthy of that elusive ancestor from another century who left us none.

Adapted from “A Stitch in Time,” originally published in Ancestry, Nov-Dec 2008