by Heidi Betts
The tightness in Gage’s chest and abdomen hadn’t abated, but his mind was running about a million miles a minute, and he was relieved when Eric didn’t ask why he was suddenly so interested in all of this. He pretty much let the conversation dwindle on its own, then went back to prepping for their drug-bust operation, and Gage did the same.
Could it really be as simple as his friend made it sound? Oh, he knew raising a child wasn’t a simple matter by any stretch of the imagination, but was it possible it wasn’t the nightmare of hidden traps and dangers he’d envisioned? Folks had kids every day, right? Yeah, one was occasionally found dead in a snow bank or wandering the streets alone. But a lot weren’t.
And he could cross the fear of parental abuse right off the list, because there was no way he or Jenna would ever hurt or neglect one of their own children. If he had his way, he’d pretty much smother them in bubble wrap from head to toe the minute they were born, so even getting a paper cut would be virtually impossible.
It was too much to digest all at once, but Eric had given him something to think about. Given his rock-solid determination of the past couple years to avoid fatherhood and vulnerability at any cost, he considered that progress.
When Charlotte pulled her long, wood-panel station wagon up to her house, she’d been gone almost a full two weeks, was running on Zingers and Mountain Dew, and had to tinkle like a toy poodle.
Jenna’s car, with its adorable magnetic daisies stuck all over, was nowhere in sight. Not that Charlotte was surprised. It was, after all, Wednesday night, and she only had about an hour to hit the potty, check her darling babies-oh, how she’d missed them while she was gone-unhitch the U-Haul from the car, and get to The Yarn Barn herself.
Throwing open the driver’s-side door, she scooted around the front of the wagon, then hotfooted it into the house and headed straight for the bathroom before the little fender-bender in that expo building parking lot became only one of the accidents she had to account for from her time away.
After taking care of business, she came back downstairs and made her way out to the barn. Her babies were all tucked into their stalls for the night, dozing or enjoying some munchies. They looked healthy and fit, and Charlotte ’s heart swelled with relief.
Not that she didn’t trust Jenna to take proper care of the sweet little beasts, but no one could look after them quite the way Charlotte did. She knew each of them by name, knew their individual quirks and personalities. Knew that all-white Snowball loved tiny pieces of apple and carrot, and that the black and white Domi (short for Domino) frightened easily. Really, really easily. And he didn’t just kick or spit, as was typical of alpacas when they got nervous or scared, but his eyes went wide and he also piddled a tiny bit down his leg.
For that reason alone, she didn’t race up to her baby boy’s stall and shout the joy of her return. Instead, she waddled quickly but quietly to each stall to greet her darlings individually.
Pumpkin, one of her favorite light brown darlings, lifted her head, spotted Charlotte, and trotted over to the half-door with a wide grin on her long, narrow face.
Most people would probably say Charlotte was crazy, that alpacas couldn’t grin. But Charlotte knew better-on both counts.
“Baby!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms wide to give the creature a giant hug.
Next came Sprinkles, Daisy, Snowball, Rascal, and finally Domino, all of whom got big hugs and kisses and tons and tons of super-special Mama lovin’.
She spent longer than she probably should have snuggling with her sweetie pies, but eventually she broke away, tossed them each a bit of extra hay for being such good furry babies, and reluctantly made her way back to the station wagon.
After dragging the bulkiest pieces of her luggage to just inside the house and unhooking the trailer hitch, she gathered her most recent knitting project onto the passenger side of the front seat beside her and cranked the engine. The ancient vehicle rumbled to life, purring like a big, happy jungle cat and lurching beneath her like an industrial washing machine.
Maybe this was why she’d had a thing for hogs in her younger days. The roar of an engine, the vibrating sensation that rippled through her entire body and set her skin to tingling. All that power. All that massive metal, with some big hunk of man perched on top.
Charlotte ’s cheeks turned rosy as a flush of heat stole through her body. The girls in her knitting group might think she was just a silly old woman, but she’d been a real chippy in her day. Oh, she’d never played fast and loose-she wasn’t that kind of woman. She’d never teased the fellas just to get attention, either. But she’d had her fair share of suitors. And just like her niece, she’d had a bit of a thing for the bad-boy type.
If she’d been a few years-all right, decades, she admitted reluctantly-younger, she’d have probably set her hat for Gage herself. What a tall, tattooed drink of water he was, that one.
With a shake of her bright orange beehived ’do, she put the wagon in gear and backed out of the drive, setting off down the graveled road toward town at a fast enough clip that a giant cloud of dust and dirt blew out behind her, kicked up by her rear tires.
Thinking about Jenna and Gage made her wonder what had happened with the skein of yarn she’d left with her niece before going on the road. It was magic yarn, infused with special true love powers, so surely something wonderful had occurred by now, right?
Perhaps Jenna had met a nice young man and fallen madly in love. Granted, she’d only been gone two weeks, but Charlotte was a firm believer in soul mates and love at first sight. And with the extra-special yarn at work, drawing in suitable mates, anything could happen.
At five minutes after eight, she pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall where The Yarn Barn nestled snugly between a coffee shop and one of those ninety-nine-cent stores. She found an open space only a few spaces from the front door, grabbed her things, and hurried inside.
There was a skip in her step and a wide smile on her face, not only because she’d been gone for so long and missed her Knit-Witting pals, but because she couldn’t wait to hear about Jenna’s whirlwind romance. She just knew her niece would be grinning from ear to ear, bursting at the seams to share her good news.
The others had already arrived, filling most of the chairs that the store had arranged in a circle around a small coffee table for multiple crafting groups to use on different afternoons and evenings during the week. There was a crochet group, a quilting group, a sewing group, and even an appliqué class that met in the same space.
Several reusable ceramic mugs with The Yarn Barn logo on them sat on the low table, filled with both hot and cold drinks from the small refreshment area the store provided, and the steady, staccato click and clack of needles coming together could be heard over friendly chit-chat.
Charlotte loved that sound. It was a sound of comfort to her. Of home and happiness.
“Hello, everyone,” she greeted them, taking a seat across the circle from her favorite members of the group-Jenna, Ronnie, and Grace. Of course, they were her favorites because she knew them best and spent the most time with them outside of their weekly knitting meetings.
Cries of “ Charlotte!” went up all around, warming her right down to her toes. She’d only been absent from two meetings, but she’d really missed them, and it felt good to be back and to receive such a cheerful welcome.
“How was your trip?” Grace wanted to know after everyone had jumped up to hug her. And that nearly overlapped Ronnie’s inquiry of “When did you get back?”
She told them all about her time on the road, becoming one with the highway and the big-rig drivers who made it their home. The truck stops where she’d eaten, and the rundown motels where she’d stayed. She’d been like Thelma on her way to meet Louise.
And then there had been the craft shows, which were held in giant fair auxiliary buildings or outdoors on the huge fairgrounds themselves. They’d bustled with crowds and been filled with vendors hawking every kind of craft
and handmade item imaginable, and Charlotte had done a good bit of business for herself and others whose pieces she’d taken along to sell.
But the shows hadn’t been nearly as exciting as the freedom of the road, moving from place to place, and feeling the wind blow through her hair as she raced along the interstates. With the possible exception of missing her babies and the Knit Wit meetings, she almost couldn’t wait until next year to get back out there and do it all over again.
Although… come to think of it, she might have to consider either a new hairstyle or a hat of some sort. Maybe a helmet or set of scarves in different colors and prints. Because that wind blowing through the open windows of the wagon had really played havoc with her beautiful, bright red upsweep. If she hadn’t used so much hairspray to keep it in place, and then to work it back into place each time she stopped to tinkle, she would have looked positively frightful at the end of every day.
It wasn’t until she’d finished regaling everyone in the circle with stories of her adventures of the last two weeks that she realized Jenna had been unusually quiet. Well, not unusually quiet for sad, divorced Jenna, but unusually quiet for ecstatically happy, newly infatuated Jenna.
“So how did things go for you out at the farm, dear?” she fished. “Was everything all right?”
Did a gorgeous hunk of man get lost on that dusty old road and stumble to the door to ask for directions? Did you invite him in for a sip of tea to quench his mighty thirst and end up offering yourself on a silver platter, as well?
Her niece offered a friendly smile, but anyone with eyes could see it was forced.
“Everything was fine,” Jenna assured her. “I took very good care of your babies.”
“I could see that,” Charlotte said with a nod. “I stopped by to check on them before coming here, and they looked wonderful. Thank you again for staying there with them these last two weeks.”
The group lapsed into silence and Charlotte ’s dark eyebrows-which clashed drastically with her carrot-red hair-came together in a frown as she studied her niece even more closely. The lackluster expression, the slow, methodical motion of her hands as she knit at about one-quarter her usual speed.
Jenna certainly didn’t look like she’d been bitten by the love bug recently. A flu bug, maybe. The bumblebee of depression, possibly. But nothing close to a love bug.
Could it be that the yarn hadn’t worked its magic this time around?
No. Charlotte wouldn’t believe that. It had done such a marvelous job with Ronnie and Dylan-two people who’d barely been able to stand the sight of each other in the beginning-that she simply couldn’t believe it wouldn’t also work wonders for Jenna. Jenna, who was open and looking for love.
It felt like there were ants in Charlotte ’s pants as she tried to remain still in her seat and not ask what the Jolly Green Giant had gone wrong. Hadn’t Jenna used the soft purple yarn she’d given her? Was that the problem?
Charlotte wasn’t at all certain what the qualifications and nuances of the magical spinning wheel were, so it was entirely possible that simply possessing or touching the yarn wasn’t enough to invoke its powers. Maybe one had to actually use it to create something before those powers were released. Maybe-as had been the case with Ronnie and Dylan-both parties had to touch and use it for the enchantment to work.
Lordy, Lordy, if that was the case, then they were in trouble, indeed. How many times could she count on Fate bringing a man and woman together long enough to knit with a magic skein of yarn?
The fact that Ronnie and Dylan had done just that was a miracle in itself, and something Charlotte didn’t think she could either count on happening again, ever in this lifetime, or manipulate into taking place.
Her heart gave a little lurch in her chest as another horrible thought struck. What if she’d done something wrong? What if she’d used the wrong type of fibers this time, or hadn’t spun them quite right?
What if the beautiful, solid-oak spinning wheel that had been handed down through generations of women in her family and was reputed to be enchanted with the ability to create true love was nothing of the sort? What if it was just a solid-oak spinning wheel, meant to spin new yarn out of fibers, and nothing more?
A chill swept Charlotte from the top of her Lucille Ball head to the corn pads stuck to her toes. She’d been so sure the wheel was infused with magic. So sure she could help to bring about true love matches through a hobby she already adored.
But if the wheel was just a wheel, then that meant Veronica and Dylan working out their differences and falling for one another was nothing more than a fluke. A natural human occurrence.
How dreadfully boring and mundane.
It also meant that Charlotte had no hope of drawing Jenna out of her self-imposed shell and helping her to fall in love again.
Sigh. Perhaps she was giving up too soon. Thinking the worst before she had definitive proof that the yarn from the enchanted spinning wheel had failed. She needed details, doggone it, so she could get a better handle on what was going on and whether her machinations had made at least a small dent in her niece’s love life-or lack thereof-or not.
Unable to stand the ominous silence a second more, she piped up and directed a pointed question in Jenna’s direction. “Did you keep busy while I was away? I hope you weren’t bored out there all by yourself.”
Grace snorted, quickly lifting a hand to cover the rest of her laugh. Something was definitely going on here, Charlotte thought, narrowing her heavily lined eyes in suspicion.
“Actually, Charlotte,” Ronnie offered, casting a chastising glance at her blond friend, “a lot has happened since you took off.”
“Oh?” Charlotte asked, scooching forward in her seat a fraction, trying not to appear overly curious. “Like what?”
“Like discovering Zachary Hoolihan is a cheating dickwad SOB whose ass had to be kicked to the curb,” Grace grumbled.
“Oh, my.” Charlotte ’s eyes widened and her cheeks heated at the ferocity of Grace’s statement.
Playing the part of levelheaded narrator, Ronnie quickly filled her in on Grace’s discovery of her fiancé-ex-fiancé now, it seemed-in bed with another woman while on the road for a charity event with some of the other players from the Rockets team.
Grace scathingly referred to the other woman as a “puck bunny.” For a moment, though, Charlotte considered asking her physician to fit her with a hearing aid because she thought Grace had said something very different. Something that started with a letter that came much earlier in the alphabet and wasn’t any official hockey term that she’d ever heard.
“That’s terrible,” Charlotte offered. “I’m so sorry, dear.”
Grace inclined her head and kept her mouth in a tight line, putting on a good show of remaining unmoved. But Charlotte didn’t miss the telltale glimmer that filled her prettily madeup eyes. When she thought no one was looking, she sniffed, then wiped a finger beneath her lashes to remove any hint of moisture.
Poor Grace, Charlotte thought, her heart tugging in sympathy. She’d been so happy, so deliriously happy with that young man and all her elaborate wedding plans.
She’d even started knitting her own wedding gown, which Charlotte had been thrilled about. Not many young people would be willing to put the time and effort into such complicated projects, and she’d been eager to see the final results.
The miniscule needles and thin, white yarn were conspicuously absent at this evening’s meeting, Charlotte suddenly noticed. And no wonder. If Grace’s intended had stepped out on her, she wouldn’t have continued working on any part of the wedding plans, either.
Through all of this, Jenna had once again remained ominously silent, keeping her gaze locked on the long aqua-blue boa she was knitting. Aqua blue, not purple. Not the yarn Charlotte had given her before she’d gone wheels up and taken off for adventure in the great beyond.
“And what about you, Jenna, dear?” she asked pointedly. Come Hell or high water, she would find out wha
t had happened with her niece while she was gone. And where in St. Petersburg the enchanted yarn had gone!
In response to Charlotte ’s question, Jenna blanched, Grace chuckled, and Ronnie’s mouth twisted to one side.
Hmm. Things just kept getting curiouser and curiouser.
“Our little Jenna had herself a booty call while you were away, Aunt Charlotte,” Grace provided, her tone laced with glee.
Charlotte raised a brow as the color rushed back into her niece’s face. She wasn’t entirely clear on what a booty call was, but thought Grace’s intonation and Jenna’s accompanying embarrassment were pretty good indications that it was something naughty.
Continuing to act as diplomatic moderator for their little triumvirate, Ronnie calmly supplied, “Jenna and Gage spent a bit of time together while you were away.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Charlotte exclaimed. She certainly hadn’t been expecting to hear anything like that.
“At last report, things were still going hot and heavy.” Grace grinned and let go of her knitting long enough to flip a lock of blond hair back over her shoulder. She shot Jenna a lascivious, expectant glance and added, “We haven’t gotten an update for this week yet.”
“Actually,” Jenna said in a tiny, almost voice, keeping her gaze glued to her needles, “he left, and he won’t be coming back.”
Everyone in the circle heard the pain in Jenna’s voice, noticed the white-knuckled grip she had on her knitting and that she’d stopped stitching altogether.
“Oh, honey.” Dropping her own knitting, Grace dragged her chair closer to Jenna’s side and took her hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. And here I was being such a smart-ass.”
