Back on Blossom Street

by Debbie Macomber

  “Hi, yourself.” He leaned over and touched his lips to hers in a casual kiss.

  Like her, Jordan seemed a lot more relaxed since their confrontation.

  “Grandma’s really excited that we’re coming to visit,” he said as he checked his sideview mirror and merged with the Blossom Street traffic.

  “You didn’t tell her we’re doing yard work, did you?” Once Grandma Turner heard that, Alix was afraid she’d be out digging in the flower beds herself.

  “I didn’t say a word.” He headed for the entrance to the Interstate.

  “Good.” Alix laid her head back and closed her eyes. She’d been awake since three that morning, with the same questions chasing around and around in her mind. She’d tried to ignore them, especially those having to do with his mother. “I love you, Jordan,” she said, her eyes still closed.

  “Any particular reason?” he asked, as if her statement amused him.

  “Lots. Mostly, I love you for loving me enough to cancel the big wedding.”

  “Oh. That.” His voice fell, and Alix opened her eyes to look at him.

  “Is it bad?” she asked, biting her lip. It couldn’t be easy for any of his family. Susan was the one on the front lines. The curious questions from relatives and friends would all be directed at her. She was stuck canceling the arrangements, too, since she’d booked most of them.

  “Mom will survive,” Jordan assured her.

  “Does she hate me?”

  “Alix, of course not! She understands.”

  That comment produced an involuntary smile. The one thing Alix had gleaned from their meeting the week before was that Susan Turner most definitely did not understand.

  When they arrived at Grandma Turner’s house on Star Lake, the sun gleamed on the water and the afternoon was about as lovely as Alix could have hoped for. After greeting them, Jordan’s grandmother insisted on serving them iced tea out by the lake.

  “I thought that while I was here I’d mow the lawn,” Jordan told her.

  “You don’t need to do that. I have a service that comes in every two weeks. I’ve already asked them to make a special trip right before your wedding.”

  “Grandma, we don’t want you to do that,” Alix said. “We’d like to do it for you.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, refusing their offer with an airy wave. “Getting the lawn mowed is the least I can do.” She urged Alix and Jordan to eat more of the oatmeal cookies she’d brought out with the tea. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re holding the wedding here.” She gazed wistfully out at the lake. “I’ve always loved this house. It’ll be wonderful to have all my children and grandchildren together.”

  “I’m happy about it, too,” Jordan said, linking his fingers with Alix’s.

  Jordan had described his visits to the lake when he was a child but Alix didn’t know how much he’d loved his grandmother’s home until she’d suggested getting married here. An elated expression had come over him and he’d immediately agreed it was the perfect place, a perfect solution.

  This close to the lake, Alix could feel a light breeze. She set her iced tea on the round patio table and saw Jordan’s grandmother glancing over her shoulder.

  “Jordan, would you mind bringing me my sweater?” Sarah asked. “It’s hanging on the peg just inside the kitchen.”

  Alix nodded to Jordan and instead of heading for the house, he went to his car and came back with a white box, tied with a red bow.

  “What’s this?” Grandma Turner asked when he returned.

  “A little something for you from Alix.”

  “Alix?” Wearing a puzzled look, Grandma Turner turned to her.

  “Just open it.”

  “Why would you be bringing me gifts?”

  The answer to that was simple. “Because I love you.”

  “Oh, Alix,” the old woman said, sighing. “You’re the best gift I could ever have.” Shaking her head, she added, “I couldn’t ask for a better match for my grandson. I’m so happy for you both.” Her eyes filled with tears, which she blinked rapidly away.

  Alix struggled not to cry herself.

  “Open the box before we all start to boo hoo,” Jordan teased, pretending to wipe tears from his face.

  Alix elbowed him in the ribs as his grandmother removed the lid and peeled back the tissue paper.

  “Alix knit it herself,” Jordan explained even before his grandmother had the opportunity to lift the lacy shawl from its box.

  “It’s the prayer shawl I mentioned earlier,” Alix said. “People knit them for other people who are special in their lives or in need of prayer or healing. You listened when I needed a friend and loved me when I didn’t think anyone in this family ever would again.” Alix looked at Jordan, who leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Those days with you meant a lot to me. I realize you’re not sick or in need of extra prayers, but I did want you to know how much I love you.”

  “Oh, Alix.” Grandma Turner breathed her name softly, reverently. “I remember you telling me about the shawl. I don’t believe I’ve ever received anything more precious. All the effort that went into this… I will treasure it for the rest of my life.”

  Alix gently, almost ceremoniously, arranged the shawl around the old woman’s shoulders, and they hugged.

  After they’d finished their tea, Jordan mowed the lawn over Sarah’s objections and clipped the hedge, while Alix tackled the flower beds, weeding and cultivating the soil. When they were done, she planned to spread beauty bark over the freshly tilled beds.

  “This garden used to be the pride of the neighborhood,” Grandma Turner said as she stood beside Alix. “I do what I can now, but it isn’t enough.”

  “We never had flowers at our house when I was growing up.” Alix kept her voice matter-of-fact. She remembered that the house had gone without more than flowers. Several times it lacked a window and once, the front door. Her mother had thrown a beer bottle at her father, who’d ducked; the bottle had broken the living-room window. Another time, when Alix was around six, her father had kicked in the front door.

  Alix had always envied people who had yards with flowers. Her own yard was an embarrassment, not that Alix spent much time worrying about grass and stuff like that. It was a much higher priority to stay out of range of both her parents when they drank. That was the reason she’d found a safe haven in her bedroom closet, where she’d created her fantasy family.

  “I want you and Jordan to stay for dinner,” Grandma Turner said.

  “I don’t think Jordan has any plans. Let me ask.”

  Jordan, done with clipping the hedge, drank a second glass of iced tea and then joined Alix in weeding the flower beds. She told him about Sarah’s invitation.

  “Knowing my grandmother, she’s already inside fixing a meal,” he said, moving close enough to kiss Alix’s sweaty neck.

  “Jordan!”

  “Would you like to stay?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  It’d been so long since they’d spent time together like this. Alix hadn’t fully understood how much strain the wedding had placed on their relationship. Once they’d made the decision to take control of it, the stress was gone.

  Dinner was a simple affair of soup and sandwiches, which they ate on the patio facing the lake. Grandma Turner fell asleep soon after Alix had carried the dishes inside. Jordan saw his grandmother into the bedroom and then helped Alix clean up the kitchen.

  “Not every girl enjoys spending time with a guy’s grandmother,” he said as he took a dish towel from the rack.

  “You know what I was thinking?” Alix murmured, washing by hand the few dishes they’d used.

  “That you’re crazy in love with me,” Jordan responded quickly. “In fact, you can’t wait to drag me into your bed and have your way with me.”

  Alix grinned. “Well, other than that.”

  “Tell me.” He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle.

  “I was just thinking how
peaceful it is, being here with you.”

  “Mmm.” He dropped a kiss on the curve of her neck. “Well, this place isn’t going to be so peaceful on June second.”

  Alix leaned against him. “Tell me the truth—has it been a problem for you at church?” She guessed that Susan’s concerns about what this might do to Jordan’s career were valid. Changing the wedding to a small, private affair so close to the date was likely to cause speculation.

  “Some,” Jordan admitted.

  “Like what?”

  He hesitated. “Pastor Downey, my dad and I had a heart-to-heart.”

  Alix wasn’t sure what that entailed nor was she sure it was her business to ask. She waited for Jordan to volunteer the information.

  After a brief silence he sighed and released her, then rested against the kitchen counter. “Dad asked me if I’d gotten you pregnant.”

  “What?” she exploded, and watched as a grin spread slowly across Jordan’s face. “Did he really ask you that?”

  “Yup.” Jordan nodded. “And I enjoyed telling him I looked forward to doing exactly that.”

  They’d talked about starting a family but not for several years. “Your mother put him up to it, didn’t she?”

  Jordan shrugged. “I assume so.”

  Alix knew she faced some damage control with Susan Turner. As soon as the wedding was over, she’d begin to repair their relationship.

  “Actually, it’s a good thing Pastor Downey, Dad and I talked,” Jordan went on to tell her. “We don’t do that enough. Male bonding.” He pounded his chest in a Tarzan imitation. “Me like bonding.”

  She rolled her eyes, loving him all the more for making a joke of it.

  “We all felt better afterward,” Jordan said in his normal voice, “and I have you to thank for that.”

  Alix hoped it was true.

  “What about Jacqueline and Reese?” Jordan asked her.

  Alix assured him they were fine. The funny part was, neither Jacqueline nor Reese seemed especially upset about the wedding plans being overturned. If anything, Reese found his wife’s wedding fixation rather comical.

  As Alix had suspected, it all went back to Paul and Tammie Lee’s wedding. To Jacqueline’s horror, not only hadn’t she been included, she hadn’t even been invited. She’d felt cheated, and as a result, she’d turned Alix and Jordan’s wedding into a substitute—and then some.

  “You know what?” Jordan murmured. “I’m much happier with what we’re doing now.”

  They hugged and Alix closed her eyes. In a little more than two weeks she would be Jordan Turner’s bride. June second couldn’t come fast enough.

  CHAPTER 31

  “Knitting a prayer shawl is ‘putting legs to your prayers.’ It is an outward reminder that someone cares.”

  —Cheryl Gunnells, Executive Director of Publications, Leisure Arts, Inc.

  Lydia Goetz

  Apparently, Alix hadn’t guessed that this last get-together of the shawl-knitting class was a surprise wedding shower for her. Once the word was out, I was delighted by how many people wanted to be part of it.

  The first person to contact me was Carol Girard. She still had trouble believing she was actually pregnant. Every time we talked about it, Carol started to giggle. A pregnancy was never supposed to happen for her and Doug.

  I told her I’d once read a scientific report that stated there was no logical reason a bumblebee should fly. The aerodynamics were all wrong, but apparently someone forgot to tell the bumblebee.

  Carol’s pregnancy did give me pause. I wondered if such a miracle would be possible for me. Unfortunately, chemotherapy and radiation play havoc with the reproductive system.

  A part of me longed for a child, an infant to hold and nurture and love. I’d assumed that in time this resurgence of baby hunger would go away, but it hadn’t yet. I lay awake at night thinking about a baby. Brad and I continued to discuss adoption, but we’d decided to think it over for a few months. There was no need to make a decision yet.

  Back to Alix’s party… Bethanne Hamlin was supplying the decorations. Her party business had become a notable success, and there was even talk of franchising the company. Whenever I thought back to the first time I met her, I was astonished that this was the same woman. In those days, Bethanne had lacked the initiative to do something as simple as sign up for a knitting class; her daughter Annie was the one who’d phoned. To be fair, Bethanne was still staggering from the pain and shock of her divorce, and her self-esteem was in ashes.

  Well, talk about rising from the ashes! The woman who was convinced she had no skills, no talents and no prospects, now headed a huge party business. The last I heard, she had thirty employees. Thirty!

  Annie was in her first year of college and planned on getting a business degree so she could join her mother. Two years ago who would’ve believed something like this could happen?

  Courtney, who’d also been in my sock-knitting class, mailed a gift for Alix when Annie Hamlin told her about the surprise shower. Courtney was away at the University of Illinois at Chicago; she hoped to eventually become a nutritionist. Bethanne’s son, Andrew, and Courtney were still in touch, too, which pleased me. I knew they’d maintained their long-distance relationship, because Courtney had recently e-mailed me about shipping her some yarn. She was knitting Andrew a sweater for his birthday in his school colors. Alix would love knowing that Courtney hadn’t forgotten her.

  Naturally, Jacqueline and Tammie Lee planned to attend, even though they’d already been part of another shower for Alix at the country club. They were bringing all kinds of treats for the party, everything from small quiches to a selection of cheeses. Tammie Lee told me she was also preparing a southern delicacy—pickled hardboiled eggs. Jacqueline said I should count my blessings that Tammie Lee hadn’t decided to cart in a Crock-Pot full of boiled peanuts.

  It warmed my heart to see the two of them getting along so well.

  Margaret would be here, too. I’d hoped Julia and Hailey could come, but unfortunately, they both had after-school events. Margaret hadn’t said much about Julia lately. When I asked, she changed the subject, evaded the issue or glared defiantly. Clearly, this wasn’t something she wanted to discuss, especially now that Danny Chesterfield had been released. My sister’s anger and her frustration with the police had returned tenfold.

  I tried not to worry about Julia or Margaret, but it was hard. Hailey and I talked every once in a while, and I got more news from her than I did from my own sister, whom I saw five days a week.

  The door opened and Bethanne Hamlin breezed into the store, hauling a huge box. Her hair was shorter than I remembered, and her sleeveless summer dress revealed a golden tan. I could tell she felt embarrassed when I told her how gorgeous she looked, but it was the truth.

  “Thanks for doing all this,” I said and would’ve hugged her if not for the large carton she held.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Bethanne set the box on the table and started to unpack. She had ties for the back of each chair, which resembled wedding veils, and silk flower bouquets that she attached to the veils, each one in a pastel shade. She draped the table with a decorated cloth and then brought out a silver tray with minisandwiches and sugar cookies shaped like champagne glasses.

  Even before she’d finished, Jacqueline and Tammie Lee came in with their bounty, followed by Elise and Maverick Beaumont. I immediately pulled out a chair for Maverick, who seemed thinner than the last time I’d seen him. His complexion was pale, too, and he seemed weak and tired. He was losing his battle with cancer. No one needed to tell me that; I could see it for myself.

  Elise stayed close to his side, as she had for the past two years. They were devoted to each other. Watching them together, so tender and loving, brought tears to my eyes. I hoped Brad and I would be like them in our old age.

  Elise used to be an embittered woman who resented her ex-husband, Maverick, for his many supposed transgressions, including the fact that he was a
professional gambler. Her life had become more and more rigid in her retirement, not less, as you might expect. But reconciling with Maverick had completely changed her.

  In addition to being my friend, Elise was one of my very best customers. When it came to knitting, there wasn’t any project Elise couldn’t tackle. The most complicated patterns didn’t daunt her.

  As the time neared for Alix’s arrival, everyone dispersed.

  “I see her,” I called from where I stood by the window. I watched Alix leave the French Café, carrying a basket of what I suspected were warm croissants. “Hide, everyone,” I instructed, and all my friends scrambled. I hurried over to the counter.

  The three customers in the shop had been told what was happening and been invited to join the festivities.

  The bell chimed as Alix stepped inside, then paused, glancing around. I’m no actress, but I did my best to look as if this was an ordinary afternoon.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, frowning.

  I stood behind the cash register, trying to keep our little secret as long as possible. The plan was to wait until Alix approached the table before everyone leaped out and shouted, “Surprise!”

  I shrugged. “What do you mean?”

  “No one’s here,” Alix said in a puzzled voice.

  “Colette and Susannah will be here in a few minutes.” In reality, they’d been among the first to show up. They had a large order to get out that night and it was a sacrifice for them to be here at all, but neither was willing to miss it.

  Alix still didn’t move.

  “Go on back.” I gestured to the rear of the shop.

  Alix sent me an odd look, and I was sure that despite my efforts I’d given the surprise away. She moved past the yarn—and then everyone rushed forward to shout.

  To my utter satisfaction, Alix was stunned. Her mouth fell open and she slowly turned and studied each face. The table was piled high with gifts and food, and everyone crowded around to offer her their best wishes.

  Alix always claimed she wasn’t any good in social situations, but after I saw her at this wedding shower, I begged to differ. She charmed her friends and thanked them for their gifts with unquestionable sincerity. The gifts were mostly thoughtful with a few comical ones tossed in. My sister’s present, a toaster, was as practical as Margaret herself. Mine was a gift card for $100 worth of yarn. My favorite present was an oversize T-shirt with an image of Shakespeare knitting a sleeve. “That’s the ‘raveled sleeve of care,’” Elise the ex-librarian explained. “Sleep knits it up again. Isn’t that a lovely metaphor? It’s from Macbeth.”