Читать книгу Blossom Street - Debbie Macomber - Страница 102

“When in doubt, grab a ball of yarn and Get Creative!”

—Sasha Kagan, Sasha Kagan Knitwear.

LYDIA HOFFMAN

It was more than a week since I’d seen Brad. My anger had cooled and I wished I could take back some of what I’d said. I hoped he felt the same way. Tuesday morning when I removed the Closed sign from my door, I took the opportunity to glance up and down the street. It was too early to see Brad’s UPS truck, but I was hopeful nonetheless. I hadn’t figured out what I’d say, but I knew I’d be far less emotional than last week at Green Lake.

It had been an incredible few days. Friday afternoon, Courtney came by to introduce me to her older sister. They had a fantastic story about a fairy godfather who’d stepped in to ensure that her date for Homecoming would be as perfect as it could possibly be. I couldn’t imagine who’d do anything like that. I think Courtney somehow expected me to know, but I didn’t.

On Saturday it was Bethanne who arrived with an equally fantastic story of a mysterious benefactor who’d given her the money she needed, no strings attached. A gift, not a loan. The only stipulation was that she help someone else if she was ever in a position to do so.

Exuberant, she dashed across the street with a business idea that involved Alix—a contract to provide birthday cakes and other desserts for the various events Bethanne arranged.

I was thrilled for both Bethanne and Courtney. If this fairy godfather had any extra fairy dust available, I could use some myself—not that I expected any magic in my life.

The bell chimed, and Margaret walked in promptly at ten. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully.

“Morning,” I responded. I thought of asking her about her good mood but hesitated, wondering if she’d volunteer the information herself. Often it’s still difficult to know how best to approach my sister.

“It looks like you had a good weekend,” I finally ventured, somewhat cautiously.

“We sure did.” She was practically skipping as she entered the store. I trailed behind her to the office.

“Did you do anything fun?” I asked. I was thinking maybe dinner out or a movie.

“Better than anything you can imagine!” She gave me a huge smile. Not a typical Margaret smile, either, which often seemed more of a grimace, but a wide, unstinting smile that changed her whole face.

“Oh?” I said, dying of curiosity.

She opened her purse and removed an envelope, which she handed me with a dramatic flourish.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

I’ll admit I was eager enough to tear it open. Inside was a card and a check. I noticed the amount and gasped—it was for the entire bank loan of ten thousand dollars. The card was a thank-you note written to me by my brother-in-law and signed by both Margaret and Matt.

“What … how—” I stammered, hardly able to form a question.

“Matt has a wonderful new job.”

My guess was that this new job had nothing to do with painting houses. “The money …”

“A signing bonus.”

“But …”

“We talked it over, Matt and I, when you first gave us the money. Matt was so touched that you’d do this for us. I can’t even begin to tell you what a difference it made to be able to keep the house. We—we’ve never gotten this far behind, and it was a blow to both of us. We’re terribly grateful for what you did, but we always felt the money had to be a loan.”

“But …” I couldn’t seem to get out more than one word at a time—and it takes a lot to leave me speechless.

“The truly astounding part is that Matt hadn’t even applied with this particular engineering firm. Their Human Resources department contacted him on Thursday and asked him to submit an application immediately, which he did. They didn’t have it longer than a day before he heard back and the negotiations began.”

“That’s marvelous!”

“It is—more than you know. I’ve hardly ever seen Matt so excited. He was like a little kid when he got the news. He started work yesterday. I wanted to say something on Friday, but we decided to wait until everything was in place—and we could give you this.” She pointed to the check.

“Margaret,” I said, hugging my sister. “Are you sure? I mean, there must be a hundred things you need. Keep the money, repay me when you can.”

“No,” she returned sternly. “This is yours, and neither Matt nor I will hear of anything else.”

“Wow,” I whispered, “the fairy dust is flying all over the place.” I don’t think my sister realized what a turning point that loan was for me, in more ways than one. Perhaps for the first time since I became an adult, I’d truly stepped outside myself. I know that sounds odd, but it has to do with the rather insular life I’d lived for so many years. What I mean is, when I was a teenager and in my twenties, my whole life revolved around my sickness and consequently around me. Not until I opened the shop on Blossom Street did I begin to understand how self-absorbed I’d become.

This had been an especially difficult summer for me as I learned to consider needs and concerns other than my own. It was a financial stretch to help Margaret and Matt, but I badly wanted to give back to my sister and her family for all the sacrifices they’d made on my behalf.

Later, with Mom, I came to understand that our roles were now reversed. It was time for me to take care of her. The paperwork, finances and everything else involved in getting Mom settled in assisted living had been time-consuming and often frustrating. But my parents had always handled those details for me, during my bouts of cancer. I received the very best treatment available because my parents fought for me. Now it was my turn.

My third emotional lesson was perhaps the most painful. It came when Brad told me about Janice. I’d just about dissolved into a puddle of self-pity because the man I loved had broken off our relationship. Only later, when I looked past the pain I was suffering, did I understand that Brad had done this out of love for his son. Reconciling with Janice wasn’t what he wanted, but he loved Cody enough to put aside his own wants in an effort to give him the family he needed. I failed to be as noble. Granted, once I recognized his motives, I felt less hurt, but I wasn’t nearly as gracious or understanding as I could have been.

The bell above the door jangled and I had my first customer of the day. I half expected Margaret to rush out. She seemed occupied with order forms, so I placed the check on my desk and hurried into the shop.

Brad stood just inside and my heart seized at the sight of him. Margaret’s smile had nothing on mine. “Hello, handsome,” I said.

“Hello, beautiful.”

We stood there smiling at each other for the longest moment, until he held his arms out to me. I didn’t need a second invitation. My feet barely touched the ground as I ran into his embrace. Anyone who happened to be strolling past my shop window would’ve seen two people in love. Brad and I were entwined, arms around each other, kissing, kissing, kissing.

When we finally managed to break apart, it was with reluctance. “You’re so right,” I cried, running my hands over his face, needing to touch him. “I behaved like a jealous fool, and I lied, I lied. There’s no one else. Brad, forgive me. I’m sorry.”

“I am, too—for what I said last week. I could no more walk away from you than I could one of Alix’s chocolate éclairs.”

I laughed and poked my finger into his ribs. Then because it felt so good to be with him again, I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight.

“So there isn’t another guy?” he murmured. “There never was?”

“No one. You’re the one and only love of my life.”

“Forever?” he asked.

I looked into his eyes and whispered, “That could be arranged.”

His shoulders relaxed. “I was hoping you’d say that. It’s time, Lydia. Time for you and me. I came too close to losing you. I love you, Lydia. I’ve never stopped. Cody loves you. Chase loves you, I—”

I brought my lips to his, interrupting him. He didn’t need to say another word.

His hold around my waist tightened as he lifted me from the floor. “Does this mean you’ll marry me, Lydia Hoffman?”

“It does.” I wanted to qualify my response with a warning or two. The cancer could return. I wasn’t sure I could have children or that it was advisable. But I said none of this. Our marriage wasn’t about me—it was about Brad, Cody and me. Chase, too, for that matter. We were going to be a family.

“Lydia?” Margaret said, stepping out of the office, her voice tentative.

I smiled over at my sister. “How would you feel about being my maid of honor?” I asked her.

She turned to Brad, then to me. “You’re getting married?”

I nodded. “Are you up for a wedding?”

“You bet I am!” she cried.

I draped my arms around Brad and pressed my head to his shoulder.

I swear there was fairy dust floating all over that room.