The Knitting Diaries

by Debbie Macomber

  “We’re meeting him in Chinatown,” Anne Marie answered.

  “We’re having Chinese?”

  This was Ellen’s all-time-favorite food. “Can I order chow mein with crispy noodles?” she asked.

  “I’m sure you can.” How thoughtful of Mel to remember Ellen’s preference for Chinese cuisine. He really was a good man; she doubted there was anything he wouldn’t do for her if she asked.

  “What about almond fried chicken with extra gravy?”

  “You’ll need to discuss that with Mel.” Once out on the sidewalk, Anne Marie took Ellen’s hand again, and with their heads bowed against the cold and the wind, they hurried toward the restaurant.

  Mel was already there and had obtained a booth. A large pot of tea with three small ceramic cups rested in the center of the table. Anne Marie was grateful Mel had thought to order it.

  He stood as they approached and leaned forward to kiss Anne Marie’s cheek.

  “Hello, Pumpkin,” he said to Ellen.

  “Hi, Punky,” she returned with a giggle. Where Ellen had come up with that name for Mel, Anne Marie had no idea. Maybe her version of “pumpkin”? In any event, Anne Marie appreciated their relaxed, friendly relationship.

  When the waitress arrived, they ordered far more food than they’d ever manage to eat.

  While they waited for their lunch, Mel made conversation with Ellen. “This is perfect weather for Baxter to wear that sweater you knit him,” he said.

  Ellen had made her own list of twenty wishes, and learning to knit was one of them. Fortunately, Lydia’s yarn shop was only a couple of doors down from the bookstore, and Lydia had encouraged Ellen’s first efforts. With practice, Ellen had improved to the point that she was able to complete a sweater for Baxter.

  “After lunch, would you like to show Mel the house?” Anne Marie prompted. She wanted Ellen to feel good about this move. Ellen had gone with Anne Marie to view various houses and had found something wrong with each one. It finally dawned on Anne Marie that Ellen simply didn’t want to leave Blossom Street, which she should’ve realized from the start. The little girl wouldn’t say so directly but she came up with convenient excuses to reject every home they’d seen—until this one. If Anne Marie had been more experienced as a parent she might have caught on earlier. But Ellen’s resistance was the main reason she’d put off the search after the first deal fell through.

  “Do you want to see the house?” Ellen asked Mel, sounding hesitant.

  “I’d enjoy that, especially if you’d give me a personal tour.”

  Ellen glanced at Anne Marie.

  “Mel would like you to show him around,” Anne Marie explained.

  “I can do that,” Ellen said, revealing her first enthusiasm for their new home. “I know every room. Did Mom tell you I have a big closet of my own and my bedroom faces the backyard, so I can look out my window and watch Baxter? He likes to chase birds and butterflies and bugs. I won’t have to take him for walks anymore because there’s a fence…. I can just open the door and let him go out.”

  “True, but it’s still a good idea to keep an eye on him,” Anne Marie reminded her. “And to take him for walks.”

  Ellen nodded.

  “I’ll bet there are lots of kids your age in the new neighborhood,” Mel said.

  Anne Marie hoped that was the case, although she hadn’t seen any.

  Ellen toyed with her fork and plate, moving the fork around the plate’s circumference. “I like my old neighborhood best,” she muttered.

  “But it’s a retail one,” Mel said.

  Ellen looked quizzically at Anne Marie.

  “He means there are shops on Blossom Street instead of houses.”

  “I like shops. I have friends there. Susannah lets me help her with the flowers in Susannah’s Garden. Last week I stood out front of her store and gave away pink carnations. Baxter was with me.”

  “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

  Ellen nodded again. “And Alix sometimes brings me leftover croissants from the French Café across the street.”

  Laughing, Anne Marie brought her head close to Mel’s and added, “That doesn’t happen often because they sell out of croissants almost every day.”

  “I like them warm so the jelly gets runny on them,” Ellen said. “Mom puts them in the microwave for me in the morning.”

  “I’ll have to try that,” Mel told her. “Sounds good.”

  “Lydia and Margaret are my friends, too.” Ellen continued to list her favorite people on Blossom Street.

  “Lydia owns A Good Yarn,” Anne Marie pointed out to Mel.

  “Yeah, I remember,” he said.

  “Lydia and Mom taught me to knit, and we knit every day, don’t we, Mom?”

  Before Anne Marie could respond, their food arrived. The conversation lagged as they passed around the serving plates. Mel asked for chopsticks, but Anne Marie and Ellen used forks—although Ellen proclaimed that she wanted to try chopsticks next time. She was just too hungry today.

  “You have lots of friends, don’t you?” Mel asked Ellen.

  Mouth full, the girl nodded eagerly.

  “But they’re all adults. Do you have any friends from school on Blossom Street?”

  After a short pause, Ellen said, “Cody and Casey, but they’re older and they go to a different school than me.”

  Anne Marie could see that Mel was trying to help Ellen see all the possibilities that awaited her in her new home. She thanked him with a smile, and he clasped her hand beneath the table.

  Half an hour later, when they couldn’t eat another bite, Mel asked for the bill. Carrying their leftovers, Anne Marie and Ellen walked to the parking garage for their car. Mel drove to the house on his own.

  Anne Marie and Ellen got there before him and after parking in the driveway, Anne Marie unlocked the front door, conscious that this was the first of many times. The inside looked different now that it was empty of furniture. The Johnsons had left the house meticulously clean, the floors scrubbed and polished and the walls freshly painted and unmarked.

  Mel showed up soon afterward. “What a lovely house,” he commented, stepping inside. He paused in the doorway to survey the hall and the living room.

  “Come,” Ellen said, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the hallway. “My bedroom’s this way.”

  “What about your mom’s?” he asked, looking back at Anne Marie over his shoulder.

  She nearly burst out laughing.

  “Mom’s across the hall from me,” Ellen told him.

  “Directly across the hall,” Anne Marie said pointedly. Although they’d been dating for several months, their relationship hadn’t gotten physical—not beyond kissing, anyway—although Anne Marie sensed that Mel was interested in taking it further.

  While Ellen showed him the bedrooms and the other areas of the house, she put the leftover Chinese food in the otherwise empty refrigerator. The official move was the next day—Saturday morning. The movers would take care of the furniture, while friends and family had volunteered to bring over the boxes. Anne Marie hoped to get Ellen settled before the end of the school year, which would give her a chance to make friends in her neighborhood this summer.

  She heard Ellen and Mel clattering down the hallway, their footsteps echoing.

  “Do you want to see the kitchen?” Ellen was asking Mel.

  “Of course. Will you cook me dinner one night?”

  “I don’t cook that good without Mom helping me.”

  “I bet she’d do it if you asked.”

  “Do you like macaroni and cheese?” Ellen asked. “I can make that in the microwave. It comes in a box.”

  “Ah…” Mel met Anne Marie’s look as he entered the kitchen.

  “I think Mel would be thrilled with whatever you cooked,” she inserted smoothly, smothering a laugh when Mel rolled his eyes.

  “I’ll eat anything you decide to serve me,” Mel agreed.

  “Okay.” Ellen nodded seriously. “A
boy in my class brought chocolate-covered ants to school last week.”

  “Chocolate-covered ants?” Mel repeated.

  “I didn’t eat any,” Ellen said, then explained, “There weren’t enough for everyone.”

  “That’s a shame,” Mel said with obvious insincerity, although Ellen didn’t seem to notice.

  Ellen was about to say something else when the doorbell chimed.

  Anne Marie shrugged, answering Mel’s unspoken question. “I’m not expecting anyone,” she said. It seemed a bit early for the neighbors to be introducing themselves. However, this could be a visit from a political candidate, as an election was coming up soon.

  Ellen beat her to the door and threw it open. Even before Anne Marie could see who’d come calling, her daughter announced, “It’s Dad!”

  Anne Marie cast Mel an apologetic look. “Hello, Tim,” she said cordially, standing behind Ellen.

  “Hello.” He smiled at his daughter. “How’s my girl?”

  “Good.” Ellen beamed happily, always excited about seeing her father.

  Tim gazed at Anne Marie, as if seeking confirmation that everything really was fine. His smile had a curious effect on her, which she did her best to ignore. She stood in the doorway, blocking his entry. “What can I do for you?” she asked politely, praying Mel would stay in the kitchen until Tim left.

  His timing was bad. Mel already had a problem with Tim’s coming around as much as he did, and Anne Marie didn’t want him to think Tim stopped by whenever he felt like it. That wasn’t the case; he generally made arrangements well in advance. Thank goodness, because she tried to keep the two men apart as much as possible.

  “I can only stay for a few minutes,” Tim said. “I came over to drop off a small housewarming gift.”

  “Oh.” Anne Marie felt properly chastised—and a little embarrassed.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  “Oh—of course.” She stepped aside to let him in as Ellen held the screen door, not hiding her delight.

  Two

  April 22

  Mom says I’ll get used to my new house, but I won’t. I keep telling her I like it right here on Blossom Street. Lydia said I’d have a big room all to myself and a closet, and that I’ll make new friends. But I like my old friends. I don’t want new ones. Baxter doesn’t want to move, either. I told my dad I’d rather stay here and he said I might not like the new house now but I will later. He said I’d still have my friends on Blossom Street. Mom said that, too…. I’m not sure she really wants to move, either, because she’s been knitting a lot and she knits real slow when she’s worried about something. She doesn’t think I pay attention but I do.

  Tim decided he shouldn’t have come to the house—not yet. Ellen had said Anne Marie was signing the final papers that day, so it was probably too soon. In their visit the previous weekend, he’d spent a lot of time reassuring his daughter that the move would be a good thing. He wondered how successful he’d been.

  More than anything, Tim wanted to help Ellen make a comfortable transition to her new neighborhood. He’d picked up a plant for the yard, which he’d set on the porch. But the housewarming gift was just an excuse, and Anne Marie had seen through it right away.

  Anne Marie.

  He’d blown it with her, handled the situation between them poorly. His AA sponsor had repeatedly emphasized the importance of honesty, but Tim had been afraid that if he told Anne Marie he was engaged to Vanessa, she wouldn’t let him see Ellen. Because his daughter meant everything to him, Tim had been afraid to take that risk. He’d have had to be blind not to see that Anne Marie was falling for him but he hadn’t acknowledged it. Instead, he’d delayed telling her the truth, which was a passive—and dishonest—way of encouraging her.

  Knowing her better now, Tim understood that Anne Marie would never have used the fact that he was involved with someone else as a pretext for keeping his daughter away from him. The irony was that his engagement hadn’t lasted very long once Ellen—and Anne Marie—became part of his life.

  Tim could hardly bear to think of his troubled past, his wasted years. Thank God for his family’s support. It’d been an act of tough love for his parents to step back and allow him to self-destruct. As a parent himself, he knew that couldn’t have been easy. But when he’d finally hit bottom, his family had been there, waiting. His mother and father were the first ones to offer him guidance and practical help.

  They’d gotten him into a rehab center and from that moment on he hadn’t looked back. He’d been sober ten years now. It was while he was trying to make restitution to the people he’d hurt that he learned he might have a child.

  The discovery had shocked him, thrown him into a tailspin. That day was the closest he’d come in all those years to taking a drink.

  Just after he’d entered rehab, Candy, the woman he’d been living with, had attempted to contact him. He’d ignored her phone calls once he became aware of them. He wasn’t permitted to receive any outside calls while in rehab; the only reason he even knew she’d tried to reach him was the multiple messages she’d left on his cell phone. When he got his cell back, he deleted each one without listening. Candy belonged to his old life and he was starting fresh.

  Later, she’d written him, but Tim wanted nothing to do with her, so he’d tossed out the letter, unopened and unread.

  Not once did he suspect she might be pregnant.

  Nine years later…he’d sought out Candy’s mother to repay the money they’d stolen from her in order to buy booze and drugs. Back then, all Candy and Tim could think about was the next hit, the next drink. Time melded together, hours, days, weeks. Often he didn’t know or care where he was or who he was with, as long as he could get drunk or high.

  After rehab, Tim had wanted to repay the old woman and apologize. If he was ever going to become the man he hoped to be, that meant restitution. So he went to see Candy’s mother. What he found was the house empty and listed for sale. The next-door neighbor told him Dolores had recently passed away.

  Then she’d added that the granddaughter Dolores had been raising had gone to live with a woman called Anne Marie.

  A granddaughter, aged nine.

  A chill had gone through Tim at those words. The timing was too coincidental to discount. That very minute he’d known. This granddaughter, this little girl, was his little girl.

  His daughter.

  Tim hadn’t slept that night or the following one. Thankfully, the neighbor knew Anne Marie’s full name, and after a couple of days to sort out his feelings and consider his options, he’d contacted her at the bookstore.

  At first Anne Marie assumed Tim wanted to take Ellen away from her. The thought had actually crossed his mind. Ellen was his flesh and blood, so he should be the one to raise her. But he’d consulted an attorney and discovered he had no legal rights where Ellen was concerned.

  Candy had signed away her parental rights, and the grandmother had stepped in. More shocking yet, Tim learned he wasn’t even named on the birth certificate. After the old lady’s death, Ellen became a ward of the state; when Anne Marie adopted her, he lost any chance of raising her, although a blood test proved that she was indeed his child.

  It’d taken weeks of gently, carefully, proving himself to Anne Marie before she allowed him into their lives. The funny, wonderful part was that Ellen seemed to recognize almost from the first that he was her father. In fact, before he could tell her, she asked him outright.

  He’d been so tongue-tied he hadn’t been able to answer.

  “I knew it,” she’d said, and smiled happily. He’d nearly dissolved into tears. So much for being manly and in control of his emotions.

  That night Ellen showed him her list of twenty wishes. She explained that Anne Marie and her widowed friends had each made a list, so she had, too. One of her wishes was to meet her father, and now she had. She’d thrown her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

  From then on, Tim’s relationship with Vanessa had gon
e steadily downhill. He realized it must’ve been hard on her to see him develop a relationship, no matter how innocent, with another woman. His sponsor had advised him to tell Anne Marie about Vanessa. He’d tried a couple of times and then, coward that he was, kept his trap shut. He couldn’t lose Ellen. By then he was completely captivated by his daughter and refused to take the risk.

  Then Vanessa had gotten drunk. After three years of sobriety, this awkward situation with Anne Marie had proved to be too much for her. Vanessa’s second slip followed shortly thereafter, when Ellen broke her arm. Tim could see where this was going. Vanessa couldn’t deal with such a complex relationship. That second slip was compounded by a third.

  Tim broke off the relationship entirely, and frankly, he was glad he’d done it. Once he’d made that decision, he made another. He wanted to get involved with Anne Marie—only he was too late. By then she’d started dating Mel and was no longer interested in him.

  He couldn’t blame her.

  Tim had met Mel a number of times and clearly the older man considered him competition. If that was the case, Tim didn’t see it. Anne Marie was always polite but distant; whatever chance he’d had with her was over.

  “You brought us a gift?” Ellen asked, looking eagerly around.

  “Ellen.” Anne Marie chastised her softly.

  “It’s a plant,” Tim said. “On the porch.”

  “Thank you.”

  He heard the reserve in Anne Marie’s voice. He stuck his hands in his pockets and was about to make his excuses and leave when Ellen asked, “Do you want to see the house? I gave Mel a tour. I can give you one, too.”

  Tim looked at Anne Marie, seeking her approval before he agreed. She nodded slightly.

  “I’d like that very much.”

  His daughter closed the screen door behind him.

  He trailed her into the living room and stopped when he saw Mel standing there, arms crossed. The other man didn’t need to say anything to convey the fact that he wasn’t keen on Tim’s presence at the house.