The Knitting Diaries

by Debbie Macomber

  “I’m sorry.”

  Polite empty words, she thought, wishing there was something more she could offer.

  He stared at his scarred hands. “I thought I’d die, too,” he murmured. “I wanted to. With them gone, I didn’t have anything to live for.” He glanced at her. “Fate wasn’t that kind. I was left behind to recover without them.”

  She could intellectually understand. She’d lost her mother, she understood the pain of feeling as if a part of yourself was gone. But to lose a child must be something so much worse. An emptiness that never went away.

  “I only went into the knitting store to get my physical therapist off my butt.” A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Those old women fussed over me. I wouldn’t talk, but they said enough for ten people. The first time I answered a question, they nearly fell over.”

  She touched his hand. “They’re good people.”

  “Yes, they are. They helped me heal—pretty much against my will.” His gaze sharpened. “I’m not the man I was before. I don’t care about things the same way. I’ve lost as much as there is to lose.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was sharing or warning her. Either way, there was a message—one she should listen to.

  They’d had a single date that had been very nice. She would like to think that they were friends. As his friend, she could appreciate all he’d been through. But to want any more from a man like him was to try to catch hold of the moon. It would never happen.

  “I feel guilty about my second chance with my grandmother,” she admitted.

  “Don’t. Be happy that you still have time with her. She’s an amazing woman.” His expression softened. “They all are. Wait until you see Marion’s wedding dress.”

  “She went for a traditional dress?”

  “Lace and beads and a veil from that material you brought her. All dyed pink.”

  Robyn laughed. “I can’t wait to see it. She’ll be a beautiful bride.”

  “I’m walking her down the aisle.”

  “I look forward to that, too.”

  Robyn hovered as her grandmother gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.

  Eleanor leaned back against the pillows and sighed. “Stop staring. I’m fine.”

  “You just had surgery.”

  “Four days ago. I’m feeling good and frankly, compared to the pain I had before, this is nothing.”

  Robyn wanted to believe her, but she couldn’t help worrying. Even though the surgery had gone great and Eleanor’s recovery was exactly where it should be, her grandmother wasn’t a young woman.

  The nurse, an efficient-looking woman in her forties, walked briskly into the bedroom.

  “How are we feeling?” the nurse asked as she quickly adjusted pillows and eased Eleanor against them. “That last pain shot they gave you at the hospital will wear off in the next couple of hours. You tell me when it does. We need to stay on top of the pain. Pain stresses the body and for the first couple of weeks, you need to concentrate all your energy on healing.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Eleanor said with a teasing smile.

  Her nurse grinned in return. “That’s what I like to hear. Cooperate completely and we’ll get along fine.”

  Robyn stepped back to allow the nurse to check her grandmother’s vital signs.

  Apparently part of Eleanor’s impressive health care had included a private room at the hospital, a drive home in an ambulance and a twenty-four-hour nurse for the first ten days she was home.

  She heard the front door open and went to check who had arrived. Adeline and Marion would both come by, although not during store hours.

  Robyn came to a stop when she saw T.J. in her grandmother’s tidy living room. She shouldn’t be surprised that he would visit. He’d been at the hospital every day. Still, she hadn’t been expecting him and somehow the sight of him made her breath catch a little.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “Great. Happy to be home and the nurse is amazing.” She glanced back at the bedroom. “Are you sure the insurance company authorized the private duty care?”

  “It’s all taken care of. The time is prepaid, so make sure Eleanor uses every minute of it.”

  “I will and thanks for calling for me.”

  “You had plenty to do,” he said. “I was happy to help.”

  He’d done more than help, she thought, staring into his dark eyes. He’d been a rock. When she’d been worried, he’d made her laugh, when she’d been tired, he’d sent her home to rest. Maybe he’d been difficult and judgmental when she’d first arrived home, but that no longer bothered her. T.J. looked out for the people he cared about.

  Involuntarily, her gaze dropped to his mouth. He hadn’t kissed her since their dinner out, even though she’d found herself wishing he would. Which made her a fool. She wasn’t looking to get involved—she had her life to put back together. But even if she was on marriage alert, he wasn’t a good candidate. Too much of a past, she thought.

  “It’s ten,” he said gently.

  A not-so-subtle reminder that she was supposed to be at the store, helping Marion.

  “Do you want me to go to Only Ewe?” he asked.

  “No. I need to be there.” Her grandmother was trusting her with the business. Robyn wasn’t about to let her down. “Are you going to stay for a while?”

  “Until Eleanor gets tired,” he said. “Then I’ll come back this afternoon.”

  Telling herself he was available because he didn’t have a real job or a life might be true, but it didn’t make her less hopeful that he would be there when she got home.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll go tell her I’m leaving.”

  As Robyn returned to the bedroom, she reminded herself that T.J. was the kind of temptation a sensible woman ignored. A man like him was a born heartbreaker. Her woman’s instincts made her want to heal what was broken, even as her head pointed out that loving someone like him would only rip her up inside.

  Not that she loved him. But she had a feeling she easily could. If she wasn’t very, very careful.

  Eight

  “I was thinking for my sister,” the tall, burly high school kid said. “She’s only six, you know, and she kind of likes dogs. Is it too hard?”

  Robyn studied the knitting pattern Cody held, one he’d downloaded for free online. It was for a knitted toy poodle puppet that was completely adorable, but a little complicated. Maybe they should offer classes for kids, she thought absently. There were plenty of fun projects, like puppets and other toys.

  “You could do it,” she said at last, “but you’ll need help.”

  Cody, all of seventeen and six feet of testosterone said, “Yeah? You think I could do it?”

  Had he missed the “with help” part? “It won’t be easy.”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work. It’s for her birthday.”

  Robyn smiled at him. “Then I guess you’re going to do this, aren’t you?”

  She explained which kind of yarn would be best and left him to figure out if he wanted to find a real dog-colored yarn or go more fantastical with a pink or purple puppet.

  It was late morning, on Saturday. Eleanor had been home from the hospital for five days and was doing great. The nurses took care of everything, allowing Robyn to concentrate on the business.

  Cody wasn’t the only one trying new things, she thought as she chatted with customers and rang up several purchases. She’d started on a new sweater that tested her rusty abilities. The more she knitted, the more she remembered and the more she missed the craft that had always been a part of her life.

  “What about this?” Cody asked. “The purple is for the dog and the pink is for the dress.”

  The yarn was durable and had a sparkle to it. “Your sister is going to love it. The best gifts are those that come from the heart.”

  Cody blushed, then ducked his head. “Okay. I’ll get started, then.”

  “I’ll be over in a few minutes to see how you’re doing.�
��

  She turned to answer a customer’s question, only to feel a slight tingling on the back of her neck. Without looking up, she knew that T.J. had just walked into the store. He came in the back as much as he came in the front and she never knew when he was going to show up.

  But she was always aware of him, as if she had built-in T.J. radar. If he was in the store, she knew exactly where he was. If he was gone, she missed him. Not good, she thought, refusing to let herself be vulnerable.

  After helping a customer find the right yarn for a first pair of socks and gushing over a finished tote bag, she went back to the craft table to check on Cody.

  He’d already made good progress on the puppet, completing six rows.

  “Nice,” she said, bending over his shoulder and studying the careful, even stitches. “You’re really getting this.”

  Cody looked up at her. “Go to prom with me.”

  Robyn straightened, sure she hadn’t heard him correctly.

  Cody stumbled to his feet, towering over her, looking humiliated but sincere. “I know I’m young, but I did get into college and I won’t, you know, expect anything just because it’s prom.”

  She didn’t know if she should be flattered or run shrieking into the afternoon. She felt the tingling again and knew that T.J. was close by, probably listening. Because life was fair.

  “Cody,” she began.

  “There’s only ten years between us,” he blurted. “It’s not a cougar thing.”

  From somewhere behind her came a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter. She vowed to take care of T.J. later.

  “Cody,” she repeated. “I appreciate the invitation, but I think you’d have a better time with a girl from your school.”

  “I don’t like any of the girls at my school.”

  “I’ll bet a few of them like you.” The kid was cute enough and kind. Did high school girls care about kindness in a boy? Or did appreciation of that attribute come with age and experience?

  “You’re going to say no, aren’t you?”

  She nodded slowly. “Ten years is a lot of difference right now. So thank you for asking me, but I can’t go.”

  He sighed heavily and collapsed back into his chair. “I figured you’d say something like that. You still gonna help me with the puppet?”

  “Of course.”

  She patted him on the shoulder, then walked back to the cash register. As she passed T.J., she glared at him.

  “Don’t say anything,” she told him.

  “I wouldn’t. It was sweet.”

  “He’s a good kid.”

  “I agree.” One corner of his mouth twitched. “I didn’t realize we had a cougar lurking.”

  She socked him in the arm and kept walking.

  An hour later, Adeline rushed into the store, holding keys and papers in her hand.

  “I have the instructions for Mr. Whiskers,” she said, as she handed the sheets to Robyn. “He’s very particular about his food.”

  Robyn scanned the instructions. They were two pages long, including detailed instructions about where exactly to leave his plate and how to empty the litter box. She’d always heard that cats were independent and easy. Apparently she’d been wrong.

  “Be sure to maintain eye contact,” Adeline added. “That’s important. You don’t want to upset him.”

  “What will happen if I do?” Robyn asked.

  Adeline pressed her lips together. “Perhaps you’re not the right person for this.”

  T.J. joined them. “I’ll help,” he said. “Mr. Whiskers likes me.” He shrugged. “As much as he’d like anyone who wasn’t you. Robyn and I can take shifts.”

  Robyn wanted to say she could handle Mr. Whiskers on her own, but as he was Adeline’s treasured pet, it might be better to have a little help.

  “That would be a relief,” the older woman breathed.

  Robyn nodded. “Sure. We’ll make sure Mr. Whiskers is happy while you’re gone.”

  Adeline looked doubtful. “I wouldn’t use the word happy to describe him, but you can try.”

  Before Robyn could ask more details about this unhappy cat who required eye contact, T.J. was turning Adeline to face the front window.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said, pointing to the long, white limo that pulled up in front of the store. “Your ride to the airport.”

  Adeline clutched her hands to her chest. “For me?”

  T.J. kissed her cheek. “For you.”

  “I’ve never been in a limo before.”

  “You’ll arrive in style.”

  The usually stern, slightly difficult woman melted, hugging T.J., then Robyn, waving and rushing out to meet her ride.

  For all his attempts to withdraw from the world after the loss of his family, T.J. hadn’t been able to stop being who he was—a kind man who truly cared about others. A man who needed emotional connections.

  She could relate to that. It was one of the reasons she’d never felt at home in New York. Her family had always been here. She’d had someone to miss. Someone to come back to. What did T.J. have?

  “That was nice,” she told him. “You’ve given her a great start to her vacation.”

  “She deserves it.”

  She returned her attention to the list of instructions, which included fresh water twice a day, but only from the filtered container on the counter. Never from the tap.

  “Want to check this out when Marion arrives?” she asked.

  T.J. grinned. “You’re going to love Mr. Whiskers.”

  Robyn was less sure.

  They were busy all afternoon and Robyn didn’t have a chance to break away until closing. She called her grandmother to let her know she would be a few minutes late, then walked with T.J. the three blocks to Adeline’s small house.

  The yard was neat, with mature trees and climbing roses. The paint was fresh, the porch swept clean.

  “Women of my grandmother’s generation are so tidy,” she murmured as they stepped through the low gate. “I always feel inadequate. I’m more of a piler than someone who puts things away.”

  T.J. laughed. “I’m a guy. What do I know about tidy?”

  He used the key to open the front door and they walked into the small house.

  The living room was filled with large pieces of furniture. Little porcelain figurines covered every open surface. But that wasn’t what caught Robyn’s attention. Instead she found herself mesmerized by the sight of the biggest cat she’d ever seen outside of a zoo.

  Mr. Whiskers was gray, with dark paws and ears. Maybe a little Siamese in his background, she thought absently, as she was captured by a contemptuous green stare.

  He was huge—at least twenty-five pounds of pure muscle. Judging by his expression, he was not amused by the interruption to his afternoon nap, or her presence. She had the feeling that he was figuring out if he could take her or not, and if he could, was she worth the effort.

  “I don’t think I’m a cat person,” she whispered.

  T.J. laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Mr. Whiskers and I go way back.”

  To her amazement, he crossed to the cat and confidently rubbed it on the head.

  Robyn expected there to be a loud hiss, a swipe of claws and blood everywhere. Instead Mr. Whiskers began to purr. The loud rumble practically made the windows vibrate.

  “I’ll keep him occupied,” T.J. told her. “You go prepare the food.”

  The sacrifice was more like it, she thought as she hurried into the kitchen and began the detailed process of Mr. Whiskers’s dinner.

  Robyn arrived home an hour later. Mr. Whiskers had been fed and his litter box cleaned. When T.J. offered to take over pet-sitting duties, she gladly agreed. Honestly, if she were alone with the cat, she would fear for her life.

  She walked into her grandmother’s house and called out a greeting.

  “Have you met Adeline’s cat?” she asked as she went into the kitchen, where her grandmother sat at the table. “I think he�
��s part mountain lion.”

  But instead of laughing, her grandmother looked troubled. She sat with the cordless phone on the table, with a pad of paper next to it.

  “What?” Robyn asked. “Do you feel all right? Is something wrong?”

  “I’m fine,” her grandmother said slowly. “It’s not my knee. It’s…” She motioned for Robyn to sit. “What happened when you called the insurance company about the private nurse?”

  “I didn’t. T.J. did. Did he get it wrong?” Would there be a large bill? Robyn didn’t know much about her grandmother’s finances, but while the store was relatively successful, it wasn’t a huge moneymaker.

  “Not wrong,” Eleanor said. “My insurance doesn’t provide a private nurse at all. Someone else is paying for that.”

  “Did they tell you who?”

  “Yes. It’s T.J.”

  Nine

  “Hey, beautiful.” T.J. handed Eleanor the pink roses he’d picked up, kissed her on the cheek, then settled on the sofa across from her. He eyed her knee. “How are you feeling?”

  “Very well, thank you.” She leaned forward and poured them each a cup of tea.

  While her asking him to stop by for a visit wasn’t anything new, he had a feeling her request was for more than company.

  “What’s up?” he asked, taking the delicate cup from her.

  Her blue eyes, the same color as Robyn’s, narrowed slightly. “How long have you owned Long Day Records?” she asked.

  He held in a groan. “How’d you find out?”

  “I looked you up on the computer.”

  “Does Robyn know?”

  “No. I didn’t tell her. There’s a reason you’re keeping your business a secret and until I know why, I’ll respect your privacy.” Her usually warm gaze turned frosty. “However, I don’t appreciate you playing us all for fools.”

  “It wasn’t that,” he said, putting down his cup. He hesitated before speaking, knowing she deserved the truth. “When I lost my wife and my son, I didn’t care about the company. I walked away from it, in spirit, if not in reality. None of that mattered to me.”