Читать книгу Blossom Street Bundle (Books 1-5) - Debbie Macomber - Страница 25

“Handknitting is a soothing and comforting means of creative expression that can result in a warm, useful and lovingly knitted garment … what a bonus.”

—Meg Swansen, Schoolhouse Press

LYDIA HOFFMAN

The three women in my knitting class sat around the table, eager for the last scheduled lesson. Before I could start, however, Jacqueline spoke up.

“I’d like to let everyone know I’ve decided against returning for the new session.” She meant our knitting “support group,” for which I charged five dollars a week.

No one made any protest, so I felt I should say something. “I’m sorry to hear that, Jacqueline.” I was, and my feelings weren’t entirely mercenary, although I knew if she stayed, Jacqueline would be inclined to purchase the higher-end yarns.

“I’m not,” Alix said without so much as a second’s hesitation.

“I didn’t expect anything different from you,” Jacqueline muttered, not hiding her scorn.

Truth be known, I was just as glad not to be stuck refereeing those two, although it did make for an amusing moment now and then. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two women who disliked each other more intensely. I’d believed that their animosity had lessened in the past few weeks, but apparently I’d read the situation completely wrong. Once again, my lack of experience when it came to relationships was showing.

Jacqueline was difficult to know—and to like. I did give her credit, though; she’d made a genuine effort to learn to knit and had nearly completed the baby blanket she was making for her first grandchild.

“I felt I should attend the last class and tell everyone what I’d decided.”

“Like we’d care,” Alix mumbled under her breath.

Standing behind Alix, I placed my hand on her shoulder as a way of asking her to keep her comments to herself. Through the last six weeks, I’d discovered that for all her crusty exterior the girl was actually quite sensitive. Even a hint of criticism was enough to make her withdraw.

“I don’t think I could stop knitting now if I wanted to,” Carol said. She was working on a sweater for her brother. The cashmere yarn was the most expensive in the shop and she’d bought it in a creamy gray.

“I’m going to continue, too,” Alix said, glaring across the table at Jacqueline as if to suggest the older woman lacked willpower. “I’m gonna get this blanket right no matter what it takes.”

I had to admire Alix’s determination. She was still rather clumsy in her handling of the yarn and needles, but she refused to give up. I suspect she undid as many rows as she knit in the first few weeks. Thankfully, she’d learned what she was doing wrong and was progressing nicely. Her biggest hindrance was lack of time.

“Are you saying I’m a quitter?” Jacqueline asked, challenging Alix.

“If the fancy shoe fits, then walk in it. It’s no biggie, right? You certainly won’t be missed by me.”

Jacqueline and Alix’s constant bickering wore on my nerves. But before I could react, Carol leaped in.

“I have news,” she said in a blatant effort to change the subject. I was grateful to her.

“Oh, good.” I didn’t bother to hide the relief in my voice.

“Monday morning Doug’s taking me in for the last IVF attempt.”

Although she presented a cheerful facade, I sensed—and I’m sure the others did, too—a deep-seated fear. I hoped everything would work this time and Carol would carry the pregnancy full-term. She’d been going in for regular appointments, although she hadn’t given us details. She’d talked briefly to the group about her fertility problems and a bit more to me privately, but not much. My heart ached for her.

To my surprise, it was Jacqueline who spoke first. “Oh, my dear, I certainly wish you success. Reese and I only had the one child and we longed for a second.”

“At this point Doug and I would be ecstatic with just one.” Her smile trembled.

“I so wished for a daughter.”

“Didn’t you mention that your son and his wife are having a girl?” I seemed to remember that from an earlier conversation with Jacqueline.

“Yes.”

Jacqueline had been suspiciously quiet about her son and Tammie Lee lately. It made me wonder if something had happened that she preferred not to discuss. With her it was hard to tell. While Carol and Alix had grown comfortable with each other, Jacqueline remained emotionally distant. I had the impression that the only women she allowed into her life were her country club friends.

Alix kept her head lowered and concentrated on her knitting. “I think only people who really want kids should have them.” She’d said something similar to this earlier, I recalled. She seemed to have strong feelings about it. I could only assume that was because of her own experience.

“I do, too,” Carol agreed. “What I don’t understand is why so many couples who love children seem to have such difficulty getting pregnant. When I think back on all the years I put off having a family, I want to weep. I thought I had lots of time, but how was I to know?” A pained look came over her.

“What about you?” Alix asked, glancing in my direction.

I was sure my face went scarlet, although why the subject of children should bother me, I don’t know. In response I shook my head.

“What?” Alix demanded. “You don’t want kids?”

“I’m not married.”

“That didn’t worry my mother. She was six months pregnant with my brother before she got around to marrying my father. It was the worst mistake of her life, she claims, but that didn’t stop her from having me.”

“A child can’t be blamed for the circumstances of his or her birth,” Carol said.

“Yeah, well, that’s not the way I heard it.” Alix jerked viciously on the ball of yarn. “It’s no big deal. I survived.”

“Surely a lovely young woman like you will marry one day,” Jacqueline said, directing the comment at me.

Jacqueline had a tendency to catch me off guard once in a while. Only moments earlier she’d expressed compassion and understanding for Carol, and her comment about me being lovely—well, that was an unexpected compliment.

“Thank you, but …” I let the rest fade. I’d rather not reveal the details of my life if I can help it.

“But what?” Carol pressed.

“But—well, I don’t think I’d make a very good wife.”

“Why not?” Alix again. “You’d sure as hell be a better wife than my mother ever was.”

This conversation was fast becoming uncomfortable. “Husbands have … expectations.”

Alix looked up with a puzzled frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I could see the other two were equally curious. “I’ve already gone through two bouts of cancer. It’s possible that our family has a predisposition to it.”

“Do you have it now?”

“No, thank God, but my older sister had a recent scare.” Thankfully Margaret’s second mammogram had been clear. I’d gone to the doctor’s office with her and given her the support she needed. Afterward she’d invited me to lunch to celebrate the results.

This was the closest I’d felt to my sister since I was a teenager. Perverse as it sounds, I’m grateful for the alarm that initial mammogram caused. For the first time in years, my sister and I had something in common—fear. And for the first time ever, I was the one who had the greater knowledge … and the authority of personal experience.

“Why can’t you get married?” Alix asked.

I sighed. I really didn’t want to get into this. “There’s no guarantee the cancer won’t come back,” I said simply.

I discovered all three women staring at me with blank expressions.

“In case you haven’t noticed, life doesn’t exactly come with guarantees,” Alix said. “I should know about that.”

“If it did, I’d be a mother by now,” Carol added.

“She’s right,” Jacqueline said, gesturing toward Carol.

My sister had been saying the same thing. Our lunch had gone well until she’d mentioned Brad. I hadn’t seen the UPS guy for several days and as far as I was concerned, the question of my dating him was a moot point. After two rejections, I doubted he’d ask me out again. Really, why should he? I’d made it plain that I wasn’t interested.

“I haven’t been on a date in so long, I’m not sure how to act,” I told my friends. It was the truth.

“You just act normal,” Carol said as if that was understood.

“Just be yourself,” Jacqueline threw in. To my astonishment, she drew out her knitting. I’d had the impression earlier that she intended to make her big announcement and leave. I was glad to see her join the others.

“Hey, do you have the hots for some guy?”

Naturally Alix would ask such a question. “Of course not.” My denial was fast and firm. Once again, the heat in my face reflected my embarrassment.

“You do so,” Carol said, watching me. She laughed softly. “All right, give. Who is he?”

I shook my head, refusing to answer. “It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late.” Jacqueline leaned toward me.

“Tell us the name,” Alix encouraged.

They wouldn’t drop the matter and I could think of nothing to say or do that would take the conversation elsewhere.

“Come on, Lydia,” Alix insisted again. “Tell us.”

I hesitated, then with a deep sigh told them about Brad. “He won’t ask me out again,” I said when I’d finished.

“Probably not,” Alix agreed. “What you have to do now is ask him out.”

Both Jacqueline and Carol nodded. It seemed Brad had won Margaret to his side and now my entire knitting class, too.