A Good Yarn

by Debbie Macomber

  Annie had agreed to see the therapist, and after two visits, felt she had a better perspective on the family’s situation and her own feelings. There’d been several tearful discussions between mother and daughter. Annie seemed better now, more like her old self, and Bethanne sensed that her daughter could move forward, with or without her father.

  “Has Grant had a chance to talk to Annie?” Paul asked.

  Bethanne had mentioned his most recent visit, although she’d left out his inquiry about her relationship with Paul.

  “He phoned the house.” Bethanne shrugged. “I don’t know what he said, but Annie was on and off the phone in about two minutes, so it couldn’t have been much of a conversation.”

  “From what I understand, the insurance paid for the damage to Tiffany’s engine,” Paul told her.

  “Did she contact you?” Bethanne asked. Paul rarely mentioned his ex-wife.

  “No, but our agent told me about it. It’s a good thing Tiff continued the coverage for vandalism.”

  Bethanne nodded. She wouldn’t put it past Tiffany to have Annie arrested; even worse, she wasn’t sure Grant would stand up for their daughter. Yes, Annie had been wrong and she needed to accept the consequences of her actions, but Bethanne couldn’t bear the thought of her daughter being prosecuted. At the therapist’s suggestion, Annie had written Tiffany a letter of apology and Bethanne hoped the matter would end there.

  The waitress came by, and Bethanne ordered the fajita salad, while Paul chose the chicken enchilada plate. He waited until she’d left the table before resuming the conversation.

  “How’s Annie now?” he asked.

  “She’s dealing with a lot,” Bethanne replied. “She’s coming through it, though, and I think the worst is over, but it’s been a difficult time for her.”

  “She needs a friend,” Paul said. “Someone who really understands.”

  “I agree, but—” Bethanne stopped in midsentence. “Yes. She does.”

  Paul laughed softly. “You’ve got that look in your eye.”

  Bethanne sat back in her chair. “She already has one. Only, my daughter is a lot like her mother and isn’t always aware of what’s right in front of her.”

  “You seem to be full of good news tonight,” he teased.

  She giggled. “I’m full of something, all right.” Suddenly she reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “Oh, my goodness,” she cried, shocked into momentary silence.

  “What?” Paul asked in concern.

  “Paul, I just realized that I’m happy. I’m actually happy. I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again, but I do. I really do.”

  Paul nodded thoughtfully.

  Bethanne leaned toward him. “Has it happened for you yet?”

  He didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Be honest,” she told him.

  “Not yet,” he admitted with a faint smile, “but I can feel it approaching.”

  “Good.” She felt better knowing that he was hopeful enough to anticipate the return of joy.

  “Seeing you makes me happy,” he confessed.

  “Thank you.” Bethanne sipped her margarita and sighed. “That’s sweet.”

  “I think about you a lot, Bethanne. About us both.”

  “Us.” She choked a little as she swallowed her drink.

  “What would you think of the two of us dating?”

  She frowned. She’d never asked, but assumed she was older than Paul, possibly by as much as ten years. “I…I like you as a friend, Paul, but as for this dating idea—I don’t know. I’m afraid it might change our whole relationship and I wouldn’t want that. I want things to stay the way they are.”

  He shrugged with apparent nonchalance. “That’s all right.”

  “Don’t take offense, please. I couldn’t bear it if you did. You’re my friend and I treasure our times together, but…”

  “Just think about us dating, all right?”

  “Okay, but…Okay, okay, I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.” He appeared to relax then. “I’m glad, Bethanne. You’re exactly the kind of woman I can imagine myself with.”

  She glanced around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. “This is because I asked you about sex, isn’t it?”

  “No,” he said abruptly. “This has to do with the fact that I really enjoy being with you. Not you, the ex-wife of the man my ex-wife left me for, but you, the person I’ve come to know and trust.”

  “Oh.” After two margaritas, she found it difficult to frame a response.

  “That surprises you?”

  “No.” Bethanne answered from her heart. “The truth is, I find your interest a very big compliment. For now, I’m more comfortable just being friends, but I’m willing to see where things go.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Bethanne,” he said in a serious tone.

  “That’s the lack of sex talking,” she teased.

  “Hmm—that could easily be fixed,” he joked back.

  Bethanne giggled. “I think it’s time we cut off the margaritas.”

  Paul smiled. “Let’s not be hasty. The conversation’s just getting good.”

  CHAPTER 24

  COURTNEY PULANSKI

  It’d been a pleasant surprise to hear from Annie, especially after the way their last meeting had ended, with Annie storming out of Courtney’s bedroom. Courtney had wanted to ask Bethanne about her during knitting class. She hadn’t, because she didn’t want to put Annie’s mother on the spot.

  Courtney was afraid for the girl, afraid of what she might do. She’d tried to talk to her, to help her, and explain that she understood—she’d gone through this horrible emotional pain herself. But Annie had made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t interested.

  Then, on a Monday afternoon, after no contact in almost two weeks, Annie had phoned and invited Courtney to her house. Her grandmother dropped her off at the Hamlins’ on her way to the church, where Vera volunteered at the library once a month. Before she moved to Seattle, Courtney had assumed her grandmother sat in front of the television and knit most afternoons. Boy, had she been wrong. Vera was at the pool four mornings a week and ate a robust breakfast. Then she worked in her yard and garden. She probably spent as many hours doing volunteer work, including various church committees, as she would’ve spent on a full-time job.

  As Grams drove off, Courtney stood on the sidewalk and examined Annie’s house. She immediately liked the brick structure with its steep front steps, rounded door and the gable that jutted out over the small porch. It reminded her of homes in some Chicago neighborhoods.

  Homesickness rushed through her. Chicago was where she had friends, where everything was familiar. Courtney hated having to rebuild her life in her senior year of high school. She’d worked for eleven years to reach this point, and she’d looked forward to being with her friends, some of whom she’d known nearly her entire life.

  She found it hard not to feel sorry for herself, but Courtney knew, and had long ago accepted, that this sacrifice was necessary. Julianna had recently reminded Courtney that next year, when she left for college, she’d be experiencing the same kind of dislocation, so in essence Courtney was simply making the move a year earlier than she normally would. She’d be that much more prepared for college, Julianna said, and Courtney appreciated her sister’s insight. She relied on the contact with her family, especially Julianna, to ward off feelings of isolation.

  Annie opened the door before Courtney had even rung the bell. “I saw your grandmother pull up,” she said. She wore tight shorts, a loose T-shirt and big fuzzy slippers.

  And she wasn’t smiling. Their conversation had been short, and she wondered if it’d been prompted by Bethanne or if Annie was sincere about wanting to see her. At the time, Courtney had been too grateful to question the other girl’s motives.

  “How’s it going?” Courtney asked, walking into the house.

  “All right, I guess.” Annie turned and headed up the stai
rs.

  Courtney followed her, although she wished she could look around a bit more. The house was beautiful, with cream-colored walls, furniture upholstered in dark reds and greens, shining wood floors, simple but expensive-looking area rugs. Fresh flowers graced the mantel. As she’d expected, Bethanne had gorgeous taste.

  Photographs lined the wall, and she paused long enough to look at the family portrait, obviously taken in better times. Andrew resembled his father, with deep blue eyes and a strong square chin, and Annie took after her mother. “Where is everyone?” she asked, trudging up the carpeted stairs.

  “Out,” Annie responded. “Why? Is that a problem?”

  Courtney decided to ignore the lack of welcome. “It’s fine with me.”

  “Good.” Annie had reached the top of the stairs and frowned when she saw Courtney regarding the framed portraits. “I told Mom to throw those away, but she wouldn’t do it.”

  The glass in the most recent family photograph was cracked, and Courtney wondered if Annie had tried to destroy it. “There’s pictures of my mother all over our house in Chicago, too.” Or there had been before the house was rented. “I used to come home, all excited about something, and rush into the house. Then as soon as I saw Mom’s photo I’d start to cry.” Talking about it still had that effect on her, and she turned aside to blot her eyes with her sleeve.

  Annie didn’t respond for a moment, and when she did speak, her voice was barely above a whisper. “When Dad first left, I thought for sure he’d be back. I hated him for leaving us. I wanted to…to punish him, and at the same time, I wanted him here, the way he’d always been.” She looked away as if she’d said more than she’d intended.

  “I didn’t cry at my mom’s funeral,” Courtney confessed. “Everyone was sobbing and carrying on. Even my dad broke down.” It was difficult to tell anyone this, even now, but she felt Annie would understand.

  “Why not?” Annie asked.

  “I think I must’ve been in shock. So many people came to the funeral and there was all this talk about how good Mom looked. She didn’t look good—she looked dead.” Her voice cracked as she said this and she lowered it, not wanting Annie to hear how emotional she got talking about her mom. “I wanted everyone to go away. I didn’t want all those people around me. That night—” she paused, swallowing hard “—after everyone left and we’d gone to bed, I couldn’t sleep. Then it hit me. We’d just buried Mom. This wasn’t like some TV show. She was gone. I couldn’t stand it. I started to scream.”

  Annie stared at her. “You must’ve felt bad,” she said quietly.

  “I did. So bad.” Courtney nodded. “I couldn’t stop. I screamed and screamed. Everyone came rushing into my room, and all I could do was scream. I wanted my mother. I wanted her with me. I felt like I was the one who died, not her. I wished it was me.”

  “What did your dad do?”

  “Dad held me.” Tears streaked her face and once again she wiped them away.

  “Then Jason and Julianna sat on my bed with Dad and me, and we all cried together. Up until then, I’d been the youngest, you know? Julianna and I weren’t that close—Jason and I weren’t, either—but we became real brother and sisters that night. Our whole family changed. We’re all so close now.” She was embarrassed to have said this much.

  Annie looked as if she didn’t know what to say.

  Courtney wanted her to realize that while she’d lost her father, he was still a part of her life, and she should be grateful for that.

  “My room’s over here.” Annie gestured down the hallway.

  Courtney gave the photos one last look and followed her slowly up the rest of the stairs and into the bedroom.

  Annie was sitting on her bed when Courtney came in. Discarded clothes littered the floor and the dresser was piled with CDs, books, makeup and magazines. A picture of a boy was stuck in a corner of the mirror.

  Courtney walked over to study the snapshot. Another one she hadn’t initially noticed was taped to the bottom edge of the mirror. It was of Annie and the same boy at a school dance, standing beneath an archway of white and black balloons. Annie wore a pink party dress with a matching floral shawl and her date had on a suit.

  “That’s Conner,” Annie whispered, her voice quavering. “We broke up a couple of months ago. He said I’d gotten to be a drag.”

  “He’s cute.” Courtney assumed Annie still cared about him, otherwise she wouldn’t have kept the photos.

  Annie shrugged. “He’s all right.”

  “Do you ever see him anymore?”

  “Once in a while. He’s going out with someone else now, but he’s on the football team with Andrew, so it’s unavoidable, you know? You like my brother, don’t you?”

  Courtney whirled around at the unexpectedness of the comment and felt color flood her face. “I—I think he’s nice.” She was afraid to say more, for fear it would be misconstrued. Andrew was cute and popular and, according to Bethanne, one of the school’s star athletes. Probably every girl there was already in love with him. Courtney didn’t figure she had a chance, and she accepted that. She wouldn’t waste her time pining over a lost cause. If she was lucky, maybe they could be friends….

  Annie heaved a sigh. “Speaking of my brother, he said I had to thank you for what you did that night. He’s right. I…I wasn’t really angry at you afterward.”

  “I know. You were angry with yourself more than anything. You got in deeper than you meant to, and then it was too late.”

  Annie stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry about your mom,” she said. “But my dad—it’s not the same. My dad wanted to leave. Your mother didn’t. He walked away, and now it’s as if Andrew and I are nothing more than…than collateral damage. All he cares about is her.” Annie’s face was red as she spit out the words.

  Courtney resisted the urge to squeeze her hand, knowing the other girl might reject her comfort. After a moment, she added, “Your father’s gone and your entire life’s been turned upside down. My life was too, Annie. It might not seem the same, but in some ways it was. I wouldn’t be living in Seattle if my mother hadn’t died, and my dad wouldn’t be in South America risking his life, either.”

  “If my father could keep his pants zipped, my mother wouldn’t be out singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to a bunch of brats and—” Annie began to sob, then jerkily moved her hand across her cheek. “I don’t want to talk about my dad, all right? I hate him and it doesn’t matter.”

  “We can talk about anything,” Courtney told her.

  Annie seemed to relax, as though she was relieved to change the subject. “The thing is, I actually think it’s cool what my mom’s doing. She always loved putting on parties, and she’s really enjoying this. And you know what? She’s making money. We’re getting a lot of phone calls, and Andrew and I help out whenever we can. I have a surprise for her. Want to see?”

  “Sure,” Courtney said.

  Annie leaped off the bed and sat down at her desk, turning on her computer. “Come and look,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.

  Courtney stood behind Annie as she brought up a graphic arts display. It featured balloons in one corner and a brightly decorated cake in the center, under a banner that read PARTIES BY BETHANNE, Birthdays a Specialty. Below that was their phone number.

  “What do you think?” she asked. “It’s for a business card.”

  “It’s great!”

  “I wasn’t sure about the balloons, but it needs something there, don’t you think?”

  Courtney examined it again and disagreed. “Take them out,” she suggested.

  With a click of her mouse, Annie deleted the balloons. She cocked her head to one side and nodded. “You’re right. It looks cleaner without the balloons. Besides, Mom said someone phoned and asked about an adult birthday party and I think balloons are more associated with kids, don’t you?”

  Courtney nodded. “This whole party idea has taken off, hasn’t it?”

  Annie smiled. “It’s been real
ly wild around here. Andrew and I thought Mom should have her own business cards. I guess she’ll need a Web site next.” She returned her attention to the screen. “Anything else I should change?”

  Courtney studied the graphic for another couple of minutes. “You might want to use a different font,” she suggested, “one of the less fancy ones. This one’s pretty but it’s kind of difficult to read. Try Comic Sans or Verdana. Or maybe Georgia.”

  Annie made the changes, deciding on Comic Sans, and sat back to examine the effect. “Hey, I like that.”

  So did Courtney. “This is really nice—you doing this for your mom, I mean.”

  “She asked me to work at one of her parties this weekend,” she said, still focusing on the monitor.

  “Are you going to?” Courtney didn’t mention that she’d volunteered, too.

  “Yeah, I guess. She said you might be there.”

  “I was thinking about it.”

  “I’ll do it if you will,” Annie said and looked up, grinning.

  A warm feeling touched Courtney. “Does this mean we’re friends?” she asked. It was an awkward question, but she needed to know.

  Annie seemed to seriously consider it. After a moment she said, “I’d like that. And I know I already said this, but Andrew’s right—I do owe you. He says you saved my ass.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “So…thanks.”

  “It’s okay.” Courtney dismissed her gratitude. “I did some pretty stupid stuff myself after Mom died. One day I started a fire behind the grocery store. I can’t even explain why I did it.” She lowered her head. No one knew about that, not even her sister. “I was hurting so bad. It was stupid, and if anyone ever found out, I’d probably still be in some detention center.”

  “You didn’t go to a rave, though, did you?”

  “No, but I was younger than you. Trust me—I got into my share of trouble.”

  Annie’s responding smile was weak, and she bit her lip. “According to the therapist I saw, what happened to us is pretty common. I’m not alone. Families split up, fathers walk away, and the kids just have to cope. I’m not very good at that. And…and I thought my father loved me.”