Читать книгу The Knitting Diaries: The Twenty-First Wish / Coming Unravelled / Return to Summer Island - Debbie Macomber, Christina Skye - Страница 12

April 25

My friend Lydia Goetz once told me there are two kinds of knitters in the world. Those who find tangled yarn a challenge and will spend hours restoring it and those who’d rather throw out the whole thing than deal with the mess. I haven’t quite decided which type I am. What I will say is that I feel like my life’s a tangled mess but instead of knotted yarn it’s my emotions. I thought I was over Tim. Completely over him. I assumed nothing he said would have the power to hurt me. I was wrong. When I heard him say the only reason he had anything to do with me was because of Ellen I actually stopped breathing. I was incapable of drawing in air—it hurt that much. It still hurts, and that angers me even more. I have emotionally removed myself from him.

Monday afternoon, Anne Marie walked back from the French Café where she’d had lunch. As she crossed the street she saw that Lydia was inside A Good Yarn. The shop was technically closed on Mondays, but Lydia was often there catching up on paperwork.

What she needed, Anne Marie told herself, was a talk with a good friend, and there was no better friend than Lydia Goetz.

Walking all the way through the bookstore, she came out in the alley behind the yarn shop. She knocked at the back door and a moment later, Lydia unlocked it, smiling when she saw Anne Marie.

“Do you have time for a cup of tea?” Anne Marie realized she sounded wistful.

Lydia’s shoulders relaxed. “I was just thinking that. Come on in.”

Anne Marie followed her through the back of the store where boxes of yarn waited to be unpacked.

“How did the move go?” Lydia asked.

“So smoothly I could hardly believe it. I really appreciate Brad’s and the kids’ help.”

“They loved it, especially Casey. She’s been moved from one family to the next all her life and never had more than a suitcase. She found it … interesting that two people could accumulate so much stuff.”

Anne Marie groaned. “That’s not the end of it, either. I have an entire storage unit that still needs to be emptied.” The move to the apartment three years earlier was only meant to be temporary.

While she was married to Robert, Anne Marie had left over a disagreement regarding children. She’d wanted a family and, as the father of a grown son and daughter, he hadn’t. When neither of them was willing to budge, they’d separated. To be fair to Robert, Anne Marie had agreed to no kids when she’d married him. Over the years, however, her feelings had changed.

Unfortunately, Robert had remained adamant. No children. When they’d reached that impasse, she’d moved into the small apartment above the bookstore—her way of letting her husband know she was serious. She wanted a family. Children of her own.

Then Robert had a heart attack and was gone, and with him, her dream of bearing a child. It was while she’d been dealing with her grief that she’d met several other widows; one Valentine’s night, they’d made those lists of twenty wishes.

As one of her wishes—to do something for someone else—she’d volunteered at the local grade school and been paired with Ellen. Although she was doing well academically, Ellen had been extremely shy. Anne Marie became her “lunch buddy,” and that was how everything began, how both their lives had been transformed.

Lydia filled the kettle and plugged it in, then reached for her knitting. “Well, I’m glad it all went well.”

“Tim was a big help, too,” Anne Marie commented, mesmerized by the way her friend knit, gracefully weaving the yarn around the needles, creating what appeared to be a child’s sweater, one knit in the round from the top down.

“I heard Tim was there, but Mel didn’t show up.”

“He was with clients,” Anne Marie explained, wondering what her friend knew.

“Casey likes Tim. She said his red truck was cool.”

Anne Marie remembered how eager Casey had been to ride with Tim and Ellen on the way to the house. Tim had agreed, which thrilled Ellen, who admired the older girl.

“We had a scare Saturday afternoon when Baxter went missing,” she said, “but it actually worked out well.”

Lydia looked up in alarm. “Missing? You got him back, right?”

The kettle whistled and she set aside her knitting.

As she took two mugs from the cupboard and poured hot water over the tea bags, Anne Marie clarified her remark. “Ellen and I were out looking for Baxter and, yes, we did get him back—thank goodness. We also came across a flower shop and a bakery.”

Lydia brought the tea to the small table, along with sugar and milk. “It sounds just like Blossom Street.”

Anne Marie thanked her for the tea, added milk, then sat back. “Well, not exactly like Blossom Street, but close enough for Ellen to realize her new neighborhood isn’t so different from her old one. She made a new friend, too—the girl who actually found Baxter—and, as it happens, April has a dog. Another Yorkie.”

“You couldn’t have arranged that more perfectly if you’d tried,” Lydia said with a smile.

“I know.” Anne Marie stared down at her tea. “Anything new on Blossom Street?” Ellen wasn’t the only one who was going to miss living here. She’d still be working here, but—despite what she’d told Ellen—it wasn’t quite the same.

“I saw Bethanne Hamlin on Saturday—and she had news.”

“Oh? What?” Anne Marie sipped her tea. Bethanne frequented the yarn shop and was a good friend of both Lydia and Anne Marie. She ran a highly successful party business that she’d started shortly after her divorce and often visited the bookstore.

“Bethanne told me that Andrew and Courtney Pulanski are engaged.”

“That’s wonderful! When’s the wedding?”

“Mid-July.”

Anne Marie had never met Courtney, although she’d heard plenty about her. Bethanne’s son, Andrew, and Courtney had been dating for several years; they’d met in their senior year of high school, after Bethanne and Courtney had taken one of Lydia’s knitting classes.

“Bethanne’s knitting Courtney a pair of beaded fingerless gloves for the wedding. I special-ordered the yarn,” Lydia told her. “Cashmere.”

“She’s such an accomplished knitter,” Anne Marie added. “I’m sure the gloves will become a family heirloom.”

“Me, too,” Lydia said.

Anne Marie put down her cup. She searched for a way to broach the subject that had been weighing on her mind all weekend. She’d unpacked boxes late into the night on Saturday and fallen into bed exhausted. Tired though she was, she’d been unable to sleep.

All thanks to Tim Carlsen.

“Did anything else happen on Saturday?” Lydia asked after a moment of silence.

“You could say that.”

“Between you and Tim?”

Anne Marie’s head shot up. “How’d you know that?” Lydia shrugged, her smile sympathetic. “Call it a lucky guess.”

Anne Marie exhaled slowly and picked up her tea, needing something to do with her hands. “I overheard a conversation he was having on his cell. As it turned out, he was talking to Mel, although he never really said why—other than to pass on the message that Mel called.” She paused. “At first I thought it might’ve been Vanessa.”

“The woman he was engaged to?”

Anne Marie nodded. “He told Mel the only reason he had anything to do with me was because of Ellen.”

“Ouch.” Lydia winced, not even attempting to minimize the hurt his words had inflicted.

Anne Marie looked away rather than reveal how upset she was.

“Why would he say this to Mel?”

“All I can think is that Mel phoned to clear the air. When I talked to him later, he didn’t mention it. But he and Tim are constantly goading each other. It’s ridiculous.”

“So Mel decided to set matters straight?”

“Apparently.”

“And I assume Tim was basically assuring him he had no interest in you,” Lydia said.

“That seems to be the case.”

“And that upsets you?”

More than Anne Marie ever dreamed it would.

“You still care about him, don’t you?”

“No.” Her denial was quick and emphatic. “How could I after everything he’s said and done?”

“How could you?” Lydia repeated, then leaned forward and pressed Anne Marie’s hand. “Well, first of all, the two of you have a strong bond in Ellen. She means the world to you both.”

“True.”

“He’s hardworking, funny, sincere and darn good-looking.”

All of that was accurate enough, especially the good-looking part. Tim was an attractive man; it wasn’t as if Anne Marie hadn’t noticed. When they’d first started seeing each other—while he’d been engaged to Vanessa and she hadn’t known it—they’d had such fun together. He’d been wonderful to her and to Ellen. They’d gone on several outings, the three of them, and she’d grown close to Tim. He was easy to talk to, and before she realized what was happening, she’d fallen for him and fallen hard. She’d never let him know that, although he’d probably guessed.

The one and only time Tim had asked Anne Marie out to dinner without Ellen had been to tell her about his relationship with Vanessa.

The news had shaken her badly. When she’d had the opportunity to meet the woman who was going to become Ellen’s stepmother, it had gone poorly. Vanessa, who’d taken an instant dislike to Anne Marie, had made her as uncomfortable as possible.

When Tim had announced that his relationship with Vanessa was over, it was too late. Anne Marie couldn’t—wouldn’t—trust him again. She wasn’t willing to give him a second chance. She’d assumed that she’d completely recovered from her infatuation with Ellen’s father. And then she’d overheard Tim talking to Mel…. His revelation had distressed her more than she would’ve expected.

Okay, she’d admit that her relationship with Mel wasn’t passionate, but it was comfortable and pleasant. He was a widower, and they had a great deal in common.

“Is Tim dating anyone else now?” Lydia asked, breaking into Anne Marie’s musings.

“Pardon?” she asked, looking up, mesmerized again by the graceful movements of Lydia’s hands. As a distraction she took a sip of her tea.

“Tim? Is he seeing someone else now that Vanessa’s out of the picture?”

“I don’t think so.” But she hadn’t known when he was involved with Vanessa and he was even less likely to discuss his dating life with her now.

“What does your gut tell you?” Lydia asked.

“That it was a mistake to let Ellen see him.”

Lydia stared at her long and hard. “You don’t mean that.”

Anne Marie sighed. “No, I don’t. Ellen’s become a different child since she met Tim and learned he’s her father.” The painfully shy, reticent little girl had blossomed before Anne Marie’s eyes. Tim’s love had a lot to do with that transformation. Ellen’s eyes lit up every time she saw her father.

“In my opinion—and this is just my opinion—you need to acknowledge that you still have feelings for him.”

Anne Marie opened her mouth to ardently object—and then hesitated. If nothing else, the incident on Saturday proved how much she continued to care about Tim, despite all her efforts not to. For months she’d buried her feelings for him, not realizing how ineffective those attempts had been.

“I’m dating Mel now.” Mel was her future, not Tim.

“Mel,” Lydia murmured.

“Yes, Mel. He’s generous and … and kind and sweet.” She knew she was trying too hard to convince Lydia.

“Yes,” Lydia agreed softly. Holding Anne Marie’s gaze, she said, “But he isn’t Tim Carlsen.”

“Tim couldn’t care less about me. By his own admission, the only reason he has anything to do with me is Ellen.” Her voice cracked and she struggled to hold on to her composure.

Lydia glanced up from her knitting and, again, leaned forward to press her hand over Anne Marie’s. “Don’t be so sure. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”