The Shop on Blossom Street

by Debbie Macomber

  “I’m afraid so.”

  She struggled into a sitting position and offered Doug a tired smile.

  “Have I told you lately how much I love you?” he asked.

  He told her in a thousand different ways. “Yup,” she said in the middle of a loud yawn.

  “This is a very important day, you know,” Doug said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “I do know,” Carol whispered. This was the day she’d welcome Doug’s child into her womb.

  CHAPTER 21

  ALIX TOWNSEND

  Alix stepped outside the video store and lit up a cigarette. She was cutting back, but giving up smoking was difficult. Taking a long drag, she savored the immediate soothing effect and exhaled, tilting her head upward. It was when she started to take a second puff that she noticed Jordan Turner walking down the opposite side of the street. A sense of dread filled her; she didn’t want to talk to him.

  What was the point? He obviously wasn’t interested in her. Oh sure, she amused him, but he saw her as a leftover challenge from the sixth grade—the girl he wanted to save. Another notch in his ministerial belt. Preachers couldn’t accept that Alix wasn’t looking for salvation. Oh, sure she’d ridden the church bus to Sunday School. Her parents would’ve been willing to let her go anywhere if it meant she was out of their hair for an hour or two. She’d done the Jesus thing at ten and eleven, but it hadn’t gotten her anywhere. Been there, done that, and been awarded the prize Bible for memorizing scripture.

  She’d been on her own since she was sixteen and one of the hardest lessons life had taught her was that the only person she could rely on was herself. It wasn’t a lesson she was likely to forget.

  Crushing out her half-smoked cigarette, Alix went back inside the store, hoping Jordan would take the hint and leave her alone.

  “That was quick,” Laurel muttered as Alix joined her behind the counter.

  “I’m going into the back room.”

  Laurel frowned. “Why?”

  “If you-know-who comes in, tell him I’m not working tonight.”

  “Are you still avoiding Jordan?”

  “Just do it,” Alix snapped and hurried to the back of the store before the preacher man caught up with her. It’d been two weeks since they’d bumped into each other at Starbucks and he’d dropped his bomb. The explosion still reverberated in her ears. Jordan was a minister—and she wanted nothing to do with him or his God.

  No more than a minute later, Laurel appeared, and she didn’t look any too pleased. “He saw you.”

  Alix whirled around. “Then tell him I’m busy.”

  “I already tried that.”

  This was getting irritating. “So tell him something else. I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “You can’t hide forever.”

  “I’m not hiding,” Alix insisted, which was a pretty weak argument.

  “Do what you want,” Laurel said. “But he told me he was going to wait until you came out.” With that, her roommate and supposed friend returned to the front of the store.

  Alix waited an agonizing ten minutes and figured that by then Jordan would’ve given up on her. No such luck. Arms crossed, he stood by the microwave popcorn display next to the cash register. His eyes narrowed when he saw her.

  Rather than try to avoid him anymore, she strolled purposely toward Jordan. “You don’t take a hint, do you?” she asked bluntly.

  “Not easily,” he admitted. “Let’s talk.”

  “I can’t.” She’d already squandered her fifteen-minute break and that was her last of the evening. The video store wasn’t doing a robust business, but they were busy enough.

  “Meet me after work.”

  Alix shrugged. She might as well get this over with. “All right.”

  “Your word is good?”

  The challenge in his voice offended her sense of pride. “Damn straight it is! I’ll be at Starbucks ten minutes after closing.”

  “Make it Annie’s Café.”

  “Fine, Annie’s.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  It could’ve been Alix’s imagination, but she thought she saw Jordan wink at Laurel on his way out the door. She wondered what the hell that was about and then decided it didn’t matter. If he was interested in her friend, then fine. She hoped the two of them would be very happy. Jordan was a damn sight better than that slimy used-car salesman.

  Only Alix did care, and she was in a bitch of a mood for the rest of her shift. By eleven o’clock Laurel was no longer speaking to her and left in a huff. Alix was just as glad to be rid of her.

  Exactly ten minutes after closing out the till, locking up the store and making the deposit, Alix walked into Annie’s. The café was half a block down from the video store. As a treat every payday, Alix bought herself dinner there. The food was good, plentiful and cheap.

  Jordan was in a booth reading the menu when she approached. She scowled at him and said, “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “Yeah? And your point is?”

  “I don’t have to be here.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “True, but I figure you owe me an explanation as to why you ditched me in sixth grade.”

  “I didn’t ditch you. I…I got caught up in circumstances beyond my control.”

  “All right, but consider it common courtesy to explain what happened.”

  He’d obviously been taught etiquette. She, on the other hand, didn’t know anything about it.

  “Listen,” she said aggressively, “we can spend the rest of the evening arguing about something that happened in grade school or we can talk. You decide.”

  It was all too apparent that Jordan intended to pester her until he got the answers he wanted. She’d already decided she’d rather not get involved with a minister, but he was making that difficult. Frowning, she slid into the booth across from him.

  “What’s wrong, Alix?” Jordan asked.

  This was an interesting approach but before she could answer, the waitress appeared. Alix knew Jenny, who worked swing shift, and she watched as the older woman glanced between them, not bothering to hide her surprise.

  Folding over the top sheet of her pad, Jenny asked, “What can I get you two?”

  Jordan closed the plastic-coated menu. “I’m thinking about a bacon cheeseburger with the works.” Then he looked at Alix. “How about you?”

  Her mouth watered at the thought of one of Annie’s mammoth cheeseburgers. But first she had to find out who was paying for it. “You buying? Or am I getting my own?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”

  Alix tucked the menu behind the sugar canister. “I’ll have the same.”

  “Two bacon cheeseburgers,” Jordan said. “And two Cokes.” He gave Alix a questioning smile and she nodded.

  Jenny wrote down the order and left.

  As soon as the waitress was gone, Jordan rested his hands on the table. “So,” he began.

  Squarely meeting his gaze, Alix sighed heavily. “So I’m not interested in church,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the church-going kind.”

  “And what kind is that?”

  Alix rolled her eyes. “Ladies who wear hats and gloves and exchange polite conversation with a few ‘praise the Lords’ thrown in.”

  Jordan’s head reared back and he snorted with laughter. “You’re describing a garden party, not church. I can tell you haven’t attended in a while.”

  “I went to Sunday School back in grade school but skipped the church part,” she told him. The truth was, she’d gone a few times but left early, bored by all the preaching. “Like I said, I’m not interested.”

  Jenny brought their Cokes and Jordan waited impatiently before he responded.

  “How do you know?” he burst out when she was gone.

  “Jordan, I think you’re great.” She took a long sip of her drink. “I remember your dad and he was nice, too.” Jordan’s fat
her had come to the house once to talk to her mother, after Alix had been awarded that prize Bible. It was the one and only time he’d stopped by, and she didn’t blame him for never visiting again.

  “How do you know you’re not interested in church unless you try it? Why don’t you come one Sunday and see?”

  “Listen,” Alix said, trying to be as honest as possible. “I don’t need anyone to save me.”

  He frowned. “So that’s what you think?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “You’ve certainly got me figured out,” he said, a little sarcastically.

  Being rude was natural for her, but she was determined to keep the peace until after she’d eaten the cheeseburger. After all, he was paying for it. And she was hungry.

  “Why is it so important for me to go to church?” she demanded, and then answered for him. “It’s because you want to change me.”

  “No,” he argued. “I want to see you.”

  Sure he did!

  “I liked you in sixth grade and I like you now. Do I need an excuse?” He leaned across the table, unwilling to break eye contact.

  “I’m not your type.”

  “Did you decide that on your own, or did someone else make up your mind for you?”

  She bristled at his question. “I make up my own mind.”

  She could see he was growing angry. His hand clenched the silverware wrapped in a paper napkin. “Let me see if I understand you. I was all right to hang with until you found out I’m someone you knew ten or twelve years ago—who just happens to be a minister?”

  Alix lowered her eyes and refused to answer.

  “You liked me just fine in grade school, and now you don’t?”

  That bacon cheeseburger had better show up fast, because holding her tongue was damn difficult. Alix bit the inside of her lip.

  “The least you can do is answer me.”

  “What do you want me to say?” she snapped. “That it doesn’t matter? Well, it does.”

  “What changed?”

  She opened her mouth and then faltered, unsure of herself. “You’re… You’re…” She gestured toward him, making circular motions with her hands. “You’re…good.”

  “Good?” Jordan repeated. “What do you mean by that?”

  She folded her arms and searched with growing desperation for Jenny. It never took this long for an order to come up. Her stomach growled and reminded her it’d been midafternoon since her latte and she was hungry. As soon as her meal arrived, she could say what she wanted and take her cheeseburger home. Only he was confusing her. All she could think about was how badly she’d wanted to attend that valentine party. She hadn’t told him, but she’d had a valentine for him, too.

  “You know what I mean,” she challenged.

  “No, I don’t,” Jordan said, “so you’d better explain it to me. What the hell makes me good?”

  She blinked and realized he was serious. “God,” she whispered.

  His expression went blank. “God?”

  She nodded. “You’re this lily-white guy who grew up with a perfect family. I didn’t. You had parents who loved you. I didn’t. You—”

  “None of that’s relevant,” he countered, cutting her off.

  “My mother did jail time for shooting my father. Did you know that?”

  He nodded slowly. “There was plenty of talk about it, but all I wanted to know was what had happened to you.”

  “Oh.” This was unexpected.

  Alix nearly sighed in relief when Jenny appeared with two plates. The cheeseburger was left open and the cheese had melted perfectly. The French fries glistened and sizzled, fresh from the fryer. Her mouth watered just looking at her meal.

  “I asked my dad to find out where you were. He tried, but didn’t get anywhere. Apparently you and your brother had already been sent to foster homes in another part of the city,” Jordan said.

  Alix reached for the salt shaker but her eyes didn’t leave his the whole time she salted her fries. “You did?”

  He nodded and picked up a fry.

  Hungry though she was, Alix hadn’t touched her food. “What made you decide to go into the ministry? Like father, like son?”

  “That’s a story for another night.” He added lettuce and a slice of tomato to his burger and closed it before taking his first bite.

  Alix bit into her burger, too. “Just remember I don’t need you to save me,” she said, still chewing.

  “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

  She swallowed and drank some more of her Coke. “Why not?”

  “It’s not what I do. I leave the salvation up to God. He saves, I just point the way.” He took another fry, dipping it into a small pool of ketchup he’d squirted onto his plate.

  She still didn’t trust him. “I don’t get it.”

  “What’s to get?”

  “You,” she said. “Wanting to see me.”

  He cast her a strange look. “Is there some law that says I’m not supposed to be attracted to you? I liked you in sixth grade and I still think you’re kinda cute.”

  He liked her? He thought she was cute? “You do?” she asked and was mortified by the slight quiver in her voice.

  “I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t.” He stretched out his hand and stole one of her French fries.

  “Hey.” She slapped his hand.

  He laughed and gave her his sliced pickle.

  They finished eating, talked about movies they’d both seen and then left the café an hour later. “Are you going to stop avoiding me now?” Jordan asked.

  Alix figured she’d play it cool. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Decide soon, will you?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know how much longer I can afford to rent movies.”

  Alix laughed.

  “You coming to church on Sunday?” he asked.

  “Probably not.” She didn’t see herself sitting next to any church lady with sagging panty hose and a big purse. Jordan might want her to show up, but she didn’t think those goody-goody types would take kindly to her purple-tinted hair.

  Church was for people who had regular lives and who had goals and dreams. Okay, Alix had dreams, too, but damn little chance of ever seeing them come to life. She wanted to be a chef. Not just a cook, but a real chef in some fancy restaurant. She’d worked in a couple of cafés like Annie’s over the years and always liked the kitchen jobs best. The last place she’d worked—before the video store—had closed down, but working there had set the dream in place.

  She suspected he was laughing at her. Before she knew what he intended, he pulled her into the shadows of the alley and backed her up against the brick wall.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, neither breathing, neither saying anything.

  Then his mouth was on hers, and it was all she could do not to crumple at the effect of his kiss. Her head started to spin and her knees actually went weak. The only thing left to do was hold on to him, so she wrapped her arms around Jordan’s neck. From there, her senses took her on a roller-coaster ride more exciting than anything Disney had to offer.

  “What was that for?” she asked, her voice sounding like something rattling around in a tin can.

  When Jordan finally lifted his head, he whispered. “I figured you owed me that because I had my heart broken in sixth grade.”

  Alix moistened her lips. “Yeah…well, you weren’t the only one.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “In the hands of a knitter, yarn becomes the medium that binds the heart and soul.”

  —Robin Villiers-Furze, The Needleworks Company,

  Port Orchard, Washington

  LYDIA HOFFMAN

  Another Friday had come to an end. The knitting session was one of the best ever, with Alix laughing a lot and Jacqueline more relaxed and tolerant than I’d ever seen her. Carol was at home—doctor’s orders. By the time I turned over the closed sign on the shop door and headed upstairs to my apar
tment, I was exhausted. But this was a good kind of tired. When I first opened A Good Yarn, I’d had plenty of empty hours to work on my own projects.

  Not anymore. I had a continuous stream of customers and I was intermittently busy most days. I needed to thank Jacqueline the next time I saw her. She’d spread the word about the store, and two of her affluent friends had recently stopped by. Despite all her threats to quit the class, she showed up each and every Friday. And Jacqueline’s country club friends had purchased four hundred dollars’ worth of yarn. With big sales like these I didn’t need to worry about making the rent payment, which was one of my biggest concerns when I opened my door.

  I wasn’t actually earning enough to pay myself a real salary yet, but I was managing the rent and after less than three months in business, that excited me. My strategy was to live simply and believe in myself.

  When I arrived upstairs, I left the smaller windows in the living room open. A gentle breeze filtered through. Whiskers was all over me, weaving between my feet in an effort to attract my undivided attention. I love my cat and he’s excellent company, but there are days I’d like a few moments to myself to unwind. Whiskers’s demands come first, however.

  I opened a can of his favorite tuna and set it down. He’s terribly spoiled, but I can’t help it. While Whiskers chowed down on dinner, I sorted through the day’s mail and came upon an envelope with a familiar scrawl. Margaret.

  I hesitated before I tore it open. Inside were two thank-you notes, one from each of my nieces, thanking me for the sweaters I’d recently knit. It was the first time they’d formally acknowledged my gifts. In the past I’d often suspected Margaret hadn’t given them the things I made them.

  In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have reacted by phoning my sister. Except that our strained relationship showed recent signs of improvement, and I was feeling encouraged. Before I could change my mind, I punched out her telephone number.

  At the first ring, I nearly did change my mind and hang up. But I knew she had Caller ID and would immediately contact me and ask why I’d phoned.