Blossom Street Brides

by Debbie Macomber

  Max elbowed him with a gentle nudge, and Rooster chose to ignore that, too.

  “I came to apologize,” Lauren murmured, again with a voice as soft as calf leather.

  He nodded, indicating that he was willing to let bygones be bygones. He appreciated that she’d made the effort to find him and apologize, but that was as far as he was willing to go.

  “Would you …” She hesitated as if unsure she should continue. “I mean, I can see you’re still upset … I don’t blame you. What happened was dreadful and—”

  “What happened?” Max quizzed.

  Rooster straightened. “That’s between me and Lauren,” he said, glaring at his friend.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll stay out of it.”

  That silly grin of Max’s remained firmly in place. He was enjoying this little exchange far too much.

  “You were saying,” Max said, returning his attention to Lauren.

  Lauren focused her attention on Rooster. “I thought … I hoped you’d be willing to give me a second chance.”

  Until this moment, Rooster had resisted her with every ounce of self-control he possessed. Every word she said ripped into the wall of stone he’d erected against her. They fell in a cavalcade and pooled at his feet until he stood vulnerable and exposed before her. That she had this much power over him, in such a short amount of time, left him stunned and speechless.

  Rooster turned, and his eyes met hers. Everything about her spoke of sincerity. Her look, her stance, the way she clasped her hands in front of her. The way her beautiful clear blue eyes looked up at him with such honesty was his undoing.

  “I mean,” she said, and lifted one shoulder, “if you’re not interested, I just got another offer.”

  “Bozo over there is interested,” Max said.

  Again, Rooster glared at his friend. “I think it’s time you got back to Bethanne.”

  Max chuckled. “I can see I’m no longer wanted or needed here.” He slapped Rooster across the back and left cash on the counter for his lunch. He took one last sip of his beer, set the mug down on the bar, and said, “I’ll check in with you later.”

  “Later,” Rooster repeated, and while he tried, he couldn’t take his eyes off Lauren. He couldn’t make himself do it. Silently, she stood before him, waiting for him to speak.

  “So Bozo made you an offer,” Rooster said with a soft snicker and nodded in the direction of the man with the big belly and the shaggy beard.

  “He did,” she returned, brightening.

  “Anything that might interest you?”

  “Maybe.”

  He could see she was struggling to hold back a smile but with little success. “He told me I could be his woman.”

  Rooster chuckled. “That sounds too good to be true. Are you sure you aren’t making this up?”

  “Cross my heart.” Taking her index finger, she made a giant X across her heart.

  “Then I suggest we leave before the temptation becomes too great.” He reached for the tab and paid the bill. When he’d finished, he took Lauren’s hand and led her out of Hog’s Hideout.

  Rooster squinted in the bright light of day and wished he’d thought to grab his sunglasses when he’d left the hotel.

  Lauren’s phone buzzed. She reached for it and checked caller ID. “It’s Bethanne.”

  “Ah, so that’s how you knew where to find me.”

  She nodded as she pressed the phone to her ear. “Hi, Bethanne.”

  “Did you find him?” Rooster heard Bethanne ask.

  “I did. I can’t thank you enough for your help.”

  “Glad to do it. He’s a gem. You couldn’t find a better man than Rooster Wayne. He’d never tell you this, but Max would have lost his business and a whole lot more if it hadn’t been for Rooster.”

  Lauren glanced up at Rooster and smiled.

  He frowned back. It made him uncomfortable to have Bethanne sing his praises.

  Lauren looked to be on the verge of laughing. “I think you might be right. I better go. I’m getting the evil eye from Rooster. Bye, Bethanne.”

  “Bye. Oh, before I forget, how’s the baby blanket coming along?”

  Rooster stiffened. Baby blanket.

  “Okay so far.”

  “Me, too. I’ve just finished knitting the border.”

  Rooster knew about the “husband list,” which had intrigued him, but now it seemed Lauren was thinking about getting pregnant … unless, of course, she was already in that condition. He swallowed hard. It just might be that he’d bitten off a bigger bite than he’d realized.

  With the call ended, Lauren returned the cell to her purse.

  “You’re knitting a baby blanket?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as skeptical as he felt.

  “Yes. I thought I mentioned that. That’s what Bethanne and I were knitting when you and Max showed up at the yarn store.”

  “Is there any particular reason you’re knitting a baby blanket?” he asked, afraid his voice didn’t sound quite right. He examined her closely, wondering if he’d missed something earlier.

  “Well, yes, for my sister.”

  “Your sister?” Now he remembered. Learning her younger sister was pregnant was what had prompted this entire desire to create this husband list of hers. The tension left him, and he felt the almost irrepressible urge to laugh.

  Lauren paused mid-step. “Rooster? Did you think? You thought … I was … me, pregnant? Oh, honestly!”

  Unable to hold back his amusement, Rooster started to chuckle, and soon Lauren was laughing, too. He stopped when he realized how beautiful she looked in her pretty pink sweater. His gaze wandered to her lips, and he felt his chest tighten with the need to kiss her. It didn’t matter that they stood in the middle of the sidewalk in a section of town that was less than desirable. Nothing mattered but bringing Lauren into the protection of his arms.

  The laughter drained out of her eyes as she read his intent. It seemed to Rooster that she leaned toward him at the very instant he reached for her. Then his mouth covered hers and his hands tangled in her hair. This was good, better than good. She tasted of mint and springtime as she opened to him and he to her, slanting his mouth over hers in an effort to be close, intimate. She was warm and welcoming, her arms wrapped around his neck. Their bodies fused together, close and tight, as though they were made for this. The disappointment he’d experienced the night before lifted from his shoulders, the irritation and regret wiped out with a single kiss. His heart rate quickly accelerated as the realization hit him that he could easily fall for this woman. The thought frightened him, but not enough to put an end to what was happening between them. Not nearly enough for that.

  Someone walked past and bumped into him, and Rooster reluctantly broke off the kiss. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Okay,” Lauren whispered.

  He didn’t have a single idea where they would go. Not that it mattered, as long as it was a place where he could kiss Lauren again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Color is a feeling for me. I work by feeling!

  —Tina,

  Freia Handpaint Yarns,

  www.freiafibers.com

  Sunday morning, Lydia and Brad had barely arrived at church before Casey and Cody shot off in different directions. Casey to the youth group section and Cody to the kid zone. Bible in hand, Lydia started down the center aisle. She liked to sit on the right-hand side about halfway up. Not too close and not too far back. They sat in the same pew nearly every week; it was almost as if they had their own designated row.

  After greeting a few friends and getting an update on the Women’s Comedy Night, which was scheduled for a week from Friday, Lydia and Brad slipped inside the pew. After Lydia took a moment to be reflective and silent, Brad handed her the church bulletin.

  Leaning his head toward her, he whispered, “Jordan’s preaching today.”

  “Oh, good.” Jordan Turner served as the youth pastor and gave the sermon once a month. Jordan had married Al
ix Townsend. That had been a few years earlier, and they now had a toddler named Tommy, who Casey adored. For that matter, so did Lydia. The toddler had the sweetest disposition.

  Alix would always be close to Lydia’s heart. She’d been a member of the very first knitting class Lydia had taught soon after opening A Good Yarn. At the time Alix had been a young adult and a little rough around the edges—well, actually, more than a little rough. In the beginning, Lydia had been tentative about her attending the knitting class. How wrong she’d been to prejudge the girl.

  These days Alix worked as a baker at The French Cafe and was a wife to her fifth-grade sweetheart and a mother to Tommy. Lately Lydia had heard talk about the couple wanting to add to their family.

  Not surprisingly, the gritty Alix had turned out to be a talented knitter. Over the years, Lydia had looked on proudly as Alix tackled one complex pattern after another. When it came to yarn and life, Alix Turner was fearless.

  It wasn’t long before the music started, indicating the service was ready to begin. Looking to the words that showed on the overhead, Lydia and Brad stood with the congregation. Brad reached for her hand as they started to sing.

  Jordan wasn’t as polished a speaker as the senior pastor; nevertheless, his sermon was uplifting, instructional, and informative. The hour flew by, and soon it was time for the closing song.

  Lydia didn’t need to worry about finding Casey or Cody; the two would find her and Brad in short order. It pleased Lydia that Casey had fit in so easily with the other teens. She was convinced Alix had had something to do with that.

  As they exited the pew the couple exchanged greetings with friends and neighbors. Both Jordan and the senior pastor stood in the narthex at the back of the church. They chatted with each person as the congregation slowly flowed out of the building.

  Lydia hadn’t always been faithful about attending church services. Not until she’d married Brad and become a mother to Cody did she fully appreciate the need to feed the spiritual part of herself. Often it felt like a hassle to get everyone fed and dressed on a Sunday morning, but she came away feeling empowered and inspired. It was a great way to start the week.

  “Lydia.”

  Hearing her name, Lydia turned to find Alix waving her hand in order to gain her attention. Alix had Tommy on her hip, and the toddler, who seemed ready for his nap, laid his head on his mother’s shoulder, his thumb in his mouth.

  “Wait up,” Alix called.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll get the kids,” Brad told her. He was eager to get home to watch the Mariners baseball game on TV.

  “I’ll meet you at the car,” Lydia said, and then to reassure him added, “I won’t be long.”

  He cast her a look that basically said he’d believe that when he saw it. Her husband slowly made his way toward the double-door exit.

  Lydia was fairly certain this had to do with Alix’s most recent purchase from the shop. The pattern had called for a fingering-weight yarn that she intended to use for a breathtakingly beautiful round lace shawl. It was an heirloom piece that would require weeks if not months of knitting. Lydia knew that with Alix being a young mother plus working thirty to forty hours a week, she didn’t have a lot of spare time for knitting. Lydia guessed Alix had run into a problem with the pattern.

  The young pastor’s wife caught up with her and beamed Lydia a smile. “You’re brilliant. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Well, thank you,” Lydia returned. “What did I do for you to come to this foregone conclusion?”

  “The new marketing campaign for the yarn store.”

  The profit margin with the yarn store was minute, allowing for taxes, paying employees, and restocking the shelves with product. Just recently she’d had a heart-to-heart conversation with her husband about how tight everything was financially. At the end of the day Lydia wasn’t able to pay herself. Still, she loved her store and her customers. With funds so tight, there simply wasn’t enough room in the budget to market the store. This could mean only one thing.

  “Are you talking about those knitting baskets left around the neighborhood?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Alix returned. “I saw one at the roller rink Friday night. Jordan and I took the youth group there, and one of the girls found the basket and brought it to me because she knows I love to knit.”

  Casey had attended the church-sponsored function but hadn’t mentioned anything. But then her daughter only had eyes for a certain boy named Jack who was part of the church group.

  Lydia held up her palm. “Sorry, not me.”

  “You mean to say that wasn’t your idea?”

  “I wish I could claim it was, but unfortunately, I can’t take the credit.”

  Alix appeared stunned. “It was so clever, too.”

  “The yarn in the basket was from my shop?”

  “The labels had your sticker on them, so naturally that was what I assumed.”

  “It was in a basket, you said?”

  Alix nodded. Tommy whined, and she cupped her son’s head and gently bounced him. “It won’t be much longer,” she promised, and kissed his cheek, and then, looking back to Lydia, explained. “He hasn’t been feeling well.”

  “We can chat later,” Lydia offered, although she was more than curious to get Alix’s take on these yarn baskets.

  “I need to wait for Jordan, anyway,” Alix explained. “We’re always the last to leave the church.”

  “Okay, tell me what was in the basket.”

  “Yarn and needles, plus a few basic instructions.”

  “Instructions?”

  “A note that explained that the yarn was there for anyone who wanted to knit. It also said that the project would be a scarf, and when it was finished it would be donated to a homeless shelter or brought in to the store for distribution. Oh, and it had one of those small spiral notebooks in the basket, too.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t really know, since it was blank. I assumed it was for anyone to make a comment or perhaps to write down their name.”

  This didn’t make a lot of sense to Lydia.

  “I started the scarf, cast on the stitches, and knit a few rows myself. Then several of the girls took turns knitting.”

  “Casey?”

  Alix shrugged. “She was too busy chasing Jack around the rink.”

  Lydia smiled. That figured.

  “Did the girls write anything in the notebook?”

  “Oh, that was cool,” Alix said. “The girls wrote short notes of encouragement.”

  “To those who would be knitting the scarf?” Lydia asked.

  “No, to the homeless person who would receive the scarf. I wasn’t sure if that was the original intent, but one of the girls thought of doing that, and it seemed like a good idea. I was sure this whole thing was your mastermind marketing program.”

  Lydia was all the more perplexed. This was the third time she’d heard of someone finding a yarn basket. “I wish I had thought of it myself.”

  “Don’t look so concerned,” Alix told her. “I think it’s great and it’s sure to generate business. Whoever is doing this clearly buys the yarn from you.”

  All the way to the parking lot, Lydia mulled over what she’d learned. Brad and the kids were already in the car, and as soon as her husband saw her, he started the engine.

  Lydia opened the front passenger door and scooted inside.

  “What did Alix want?” Brad asked, and then, without giving her time to reply, asked a second question: “Is she recruiting you for another one of her church projects?”

  “As a matter of fact, no.”

  Brad arched both brows to show his surprise. Alix Turner operated on the theory that if the church needed a task accomplished, she should look to Lydia. As busy as she was, Lydia always seemed to be able to pull a project together.

  “Alix mentioned that she saw another one of those knitting baskets at the roller rink on Friday.”

  “Mom,” Ca
sey said, so excited she practically came out of her seat belt. “I forgot to tell you about that.”

  “I saw one, too,” Cody piped in.

  Brad twisted around to look at their son. “Where?”

  “Charlie’s mother showed me one after baseball practice last week. She said it was a really smart thing Mom’s doing.”

  “I wish I was that smart,” Lydia whispered.

  “Where was it?” Brad asked.

  Cody hesitated. “If I tell you, you might get mad.”

  “I’m not going to be mad,” his father assured him.

  “McDonald’s.”

  His confession was followed by a short silence.

  “Wednesday night? You mean to say you ate a hamburger right before your dinner, young man?” Lydia asked. “No wonder you barely touched your meal.”

  “I didn’t eat a hamburger,” Cody murmured. “I ate two, and they were cheeseburgers, not hamburgers.”

  “Oh, Cody.” Lydia remembered that he’d barely touched his dinner, and Cody had insisted he wasn’t hungry. Lydia had been concerned he might be coming down with a flu bug. It simply wasn’t like Cody, a growing boy, not to be interested in food.

  “You said you wouldn’t be mad.”

  “I wish you’d told me earlier.”

  “I would have, but you don’t like it when I eat before meals.”

  “I wonder why that is,” Brad said. “Your mother cooked you a perfectly good dinner that went to waste.”

  “I know,” Cody said, sounding contrite. “But I was hungry and Charlie’s mom had a meeting and that was his dinner.”

  “Yours, too, apparently,” Brad added.

  Lydia could sympathize. “Honey, next time just let me know, okay?”

  “And you won’t get upset or anything?”

  Lydia was mildly afraid she would break her promise. “I’ll do my best, if you do the same. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Cody echoed.

  “Where are we going?” Casey asked, when Brad turned off from the street that led to their house.

  “To McDonald’s.”

  “For lunch?” Cody asked excitedly.

  “I like Burger King better,” Casey piped in.