by Colleen Coble, Kristin Billerbeck, Denise Hunter, Diann Hunt
Anna poured a cup of hot chocolate and held it out to Zoe.
“Oh, I really don’t have time. But how about I take it with me? Thanks, Mom.” She pulled on the blue woolen scarf, mittens, and hat that her mom had made her last Christmas. “See you, ladies.” Drink in one hand, handbag and purchase dangling from her other arm while she held on to her cookie, Zoe kissed her mother’s cheek and sped out the door.
“Kids, they never have time these days to sit and smell the roses.” Anna shook her head and threw away a customer’s forgotten receipt.
“You still doing Sunday afternoon meals with your girls?” Sally asked.
“Yes, thankfully. I love those days.”
“You’re lucky to have them. Most kids don’t even live around their families anymore. We live in a mobile society.”
“So true,” Anna said, feeling sorry she had complained. Sally’s boys lived in another state.
Anna didn’t know what she would do without her girls, her mom, and her aunties. She loved how they took turns hosting Sunday dinners, the hubbub of family, the chaos and the peace, all of it. She prayed it would never change.
The doorbell jangled again. Anna looked up, and her heart caught in her throat. She couldn’t imagine what Michael Conners would be doing back at her yarn shop.
“Well, well, we meet again.”
All smiles and brawn. Mr. Confidence himself.
“Michael Conners. Back so soon?” Anna gazed around her station to make sure it looked tidy.
“Yeah, but not for long. I’m headed to Sugarcreek Ski Resort.”
“Oh yes, your mom mentioned you worked there part-time.”
“I do, but I’m off today. Just want to get in a little skiing.”
“I see.” Anna knew very little about skiing, so she didn’t comment. “So, do you knit?”
His laughter rattled the windows.
“The boys back on the base would have a good laugh over the thought of me knitting.”
“Some men do,” she said, her tone a little sharper than she’d intended.
“Some men. Not me.” He lifted his calloused palms. “See these hands? They were built for man’s work. I’ll leave the knitting to you women.” He looked toward the circle of women and winked, and they all smiled.
A fire kindled in Anna’s belly. “Are you implying a man can’t be manly and knit?”
He shrugged. “To each his own, I guess. Just don’t expect you’ll ever see me doing it.”
The fire in her belly grew. Did he think it would be beneath his dignity to knit? That these women were frivolous time-wasters to do such a thing?
“Then what brings you here?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest and tapping her foot.
“Mom wanted some new yarn, and she forgot to get it when she was here.” He gave her a smile. “Knitting here with the ladies seems to calm her. I have you to thank for that.”
The words humbled Anna. If she could play a small part in encouraging Mrs. Conners, she was privileged to do so.
Suddenly the deafening sound of needles gone quiet filled the air. Anna looked at the circle of knitters and found they were all staring at her.
She ignored them. Well, she tried to anyway. “What is your mother making?” Anna asked in her most professional voice.
“Uh, I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know how much yarn to get?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know what type of yarn she wants?”
“The fuzzy kind?” He grinned. When she didn’t smile back, he cleared his throat. “I thought you would tell me all that.”
“Well, I can hardly do that if I don’t know what she’s making.”
“She finished those tricky slippers she was working on this week,” Sally interjected. “Why don’t you give him some of those pretty new cotton shades that you have for making dishcloths? That would give her something easy to work on for a change.”
There was a definite twinkle in her friend’s eye as she spoke. A twinkle that Anna didn’t like one little bit.
“That’s a good idea.” With her chin hiked, Anna walked over to the cotton bin and showed Michael the different colors. She refused to look up at him, but she felt sure he was watching her and not the yarn.
“Yes, these will work,” he said, plucking a couple of skeins out of the bin without so much as a second glance.
Did he have any idea the work that went into making these yarns? Did he touch them to get a feel for them? Consider the perfect color? Of course not. What was he doing here anyway?
He tossed the skeins of durable worsted weight yarn in the air and began to juggle them. Anna glanced at the women in the circle and saw that their hands were still quiet. He had them mesmerized. She wanted to bop every single one of them—or at the very least take back her cookies.
She rang up the yarn and announced the price.
His eyes widened. “Wow. Yarn doesn’t come cheap.”
“You get what you pay for, Mr. Conners,” she said.
“Please, call me Michael.”
The way he said that made her guard drop a little. She put his purchase into a pretty bag and took great delight in winding the raffia into an especially elegant, feminine bow. He rewarded her with a frown.
“Thank you. I’m sure Mom will enjoy this.” He turned to the group and tipped his head. “Ladies.” With that he headed out the door, pretty little package dangling softly from his big, manly man hands.
Anna covered her mouth to stop the giggles until the door closed, then let her laughter out.
“Why did you do that?” Debbie asked.
“What?”
“Well, you weren’t exactly friendly,” Sally piped up.
“That man just irritates me.”
“Or not,” Sally said.
Her words boiled in Anna’s midsection. “He’s just so full of himself.” She busied herself straightening some of the bins. When she got to the cotton bin, she noticed it was already straightened. “Well, of all the nerve.”
“What is it?” Beth wanted to know.
“He straightened this bin.”
“Wow. Gorgeous, and he cleans too? Grab him.” One look at Anna, and Sally’s smile left her face. Without another word she swept her needles into full running motion.
Michael Conners may have these women fooled, but he didn’t fool Anna. She knew his type all too well.
“Not the friendliest sort around,” Michael said in answer to his mother’s question.
“Don’t be too hard on her, dear. She’s been through a lot. Her husband up and left her awhile ago. Her three grown daughters all live in town, thankfully. They’re a fine family.” Emma Conners’s soft, age-spotted hand patted Michael’s hand the way she had when he was a boy.
“Now, don’t you go getting any ideas,” Michael said. “I’m just fine living on my own.” Though he had to admit, the spark in Anna’s gray eyes and her melting smile made this woman a definite consideration.
“Sure you are.” Another pat. “That’s what all men think. But we women know better.” This time she squeezed his palm lightly and Michael laughed.
With his mother settled in her room at the Smitten Assisted Living Center, Michael stopped by the church to see if they needed help with the set for the Christmas program. Pastor Walden assured him they had plenty of helpers, so he headed on to the ski slopes. The snow was sticking to the ground and seemed to be heavy enough to pack. Good news for the slopes.
He turned the wipers on to brush away the falling snow. Try as he might, he couldn’t get over Anna Thomas’s reaction to him. Not rude exactly, but he obviously had irritated her. He couldn’t imagine why. Maybe his presence intimidated her for some reason.
Not that it mattered. He was in Smitten to help his mom. Period. He had no intention of getting involved with a woman. Once his mom was gone, there was still more of the world he wanted to see, and he couldn’t do that holed up in a small town.
The turn signal clicked off time while Michael waited for a car to pass, then he maneuvered his car into the Sugarcreek parking lot.
He shook off his mental ramblings. This was going to be a good day. He hefted his skis from the backseat. A very good day indeed.
CHAPTER TWO
Clare, Zoe, and Tess set the dinner table while Anna scooped the last of the mashed potatoes into a serving bowl and added it to the table—but not before placing a dollop of butter on top.
“This looks great, Mom,” Clare said, settling into her chair.
“It sure does,” Aunt Violet said.
Although the girls had places of their own, and Anna’s aunts and mother lived on the family homestead, they made it a point to meet every Sunday afternoon for a meal. With the kids grown and her husband gone, Anna had purchased a quaint little home, but they somehow managed to get everyone around the table.
Everyone held hands, and Anna ushered them into a prayer of thankfulness for their meal and God’s many blessings.
While silverware clanked and iced tea glasses were refilled, they talked of work, family, and Smitten news.
“So, Tess, how’s that man of yours doing?” Aunt Petunia asked.
Tess grinned. “Ryan is doing well. His new root beer ice cream is a big hit.”
Aunt Violet nudged Anna. “Look at the way she just perks right up when she talks about him.”
“Zoe’s the same way with her man,” Anna said with a grin.
Clare chuckled, and Tess turned to her. “Don’t you laugh. You’ve got a man now too.”
“That’s right. How’s your young man, Clare?” Aunt Violet asked, shaking her head. “My, my, we can hardly keep up with you girls and your love lives.”
Clare’s new young man, Joshua Campbell, was full of compliments of Zoe’s dating service.
“Don’t discourage them,” Anna said. “I’ve been trying to find them the right men for years.”
“Joshua’s fine. Don’t print the invitations, though. It’s not like that.”
Anna had heard that line before. Clare struggled with commitment. Anna feared Joshua was on his way out. But maybe she was wrong.
“So, Zoe, do you think that dating business of yours could catch me a man?” Aunt Violet asked.
Suddenly the whole room took a collective breath.
“Well, sure we could. I’ve told you that before, Aunt Vi. You ought to sign up.” Zoe sat up eagerly in her chair and leaned toward her great-aunt.
“You can’t be serious,” Anna said. It was bad enough that she had to apply to the dating service to support her daughter, but Aunt Violet?
Aunt Violet’s nose hiked. “Wouldn’t hurt you to get back into the dating game.” She patted her hair. “Why leave all the fun to the young folks?”
Anna’s breath caught in her throat. “I had my time. It didn’t work out, and that’s that.” She placed her linen napkin on the tablecloth and rose. “Now, apple or pumpkin pie?”
Aunt Violet went with Anna to the kitchen.
“You weren’t serious about that dating thing, were you?” Anna asked.
“Of course not. Though Zoe loves the idea. I just like to tease about it.”
“Well, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
They carried the deep-dish pie plates to the table and cut generous portions before placing them on dessert plates. The air was sweet with the scent of sugar, apples, and pumpkin.
“Speaking of love . . . ,” Grandma Rose said.
Clare groaned. “Not that again.”
“Bet you girls didn’t know your mom met Michael Conners at her shop.”
Tess brightened. “You did?”
“She did. And he’s a very nice single man her age,” Rose offered.
Anna rolled her eyes.
“Michael Conners. Is that the fellow who’s renting the cottage down the street?” Aunt Violet wanted to know.
“The very same,” Aunt Petunia answered.
“He is a nice guy. I bumped into him at the toy store when I picked up something for Sophia. Sometimes she and I go there just to look around for fun. I’ve seen him there a couple of times, in fact,” Tess said.
“Why would he buy toys?” Anna asked. “He doesn’t have any small children.”
“Who knows?” Clare said before biting into her apple pie. “Maybe he likes kids.”
Zoe had been clearing the table of serving dishes and walked into the room to hear Clare’s comment. “Who are we talking about?” She scooted back into her chair.
“Michael Conners. The guy down the street,” Clare said.
“Oh, right, I heard about that,” Zoe said, picking up her fork and taking a bite of pumpkin pie.
Anna looked up. “Heard about what?”
“I heard some people talking about it at church. They said Michael banged his leg up pretty good skiing. Fortunately, it’s just a bad sprain.”
Anna turned off the car ignition and maneuvered the multiple packages from the store.
Once out of the car, she clicked her remote button. One of these days she’d build a garage. The driveway was slippery from an earlier snowfall, so she walked her path carefully to the door. As troublesome as it was, she loved the feel of snowflakes on her eyelashes and catching them on her tongue. When it came to snow, she was a little kid at heart. If she thought no one was looking, she might even have plunged into the fluffy white mixture and made a snow angel. But of course she was much too dignified for that.
A giggle escaped her. What would Michael Conners think if he looked out his window and saw her making angels in the snow?
The air was cold but not frigid, with a clear sky. The glow of moonlight resembled soft lamplight in a cozy room. The quiet crunch of tires on packed snow from a neighbor’s departing car was the only night sound Anna heard. She loved moments like these when Smitten townsfolk had ended their busy days and taken to dinner around the table in the quiet of their homes. A tinge of sadness tugged at her for moments gone so fast, life already lived.
With a contented sigh she unlocked the front door and pushed through. Dropping her keys on the hallstand, she released her bags and fell onto the sofa. “Oh, my aching feet.” She kicked her shoes off and decided to fix some hot chocolate and settle in for the night.
The phone rang. With a groan she shoved herself off the sofa and answered the cordless. “Hello?”
“Anna, dear, I hate to bother you, but it’s my son,” Emma Conners said.
“Oh, hello, Emma. I heard about his accident. Is he doing all right?”
“He says he is, but I’m worried. He lives right down the street from you. Would you mind popping in on him and seeing if he needs anything?”
Anna glanced at her watch. Seven o’clock. She could just call him. There were likely enough pot-roast-slinging widows taking him food, but she couldn’t tell his mother no. “I’d be happy to check on him.”
“Thank you, my dear. And you’ll call me when you get back?”
“Of course.” Anna hung up.
Her hot chocolate would have to wait. Good thing she’d left her coat on. That was one less step. Since the air was pleasantly cold, Anna decided to walk. Michael lived at the end of the street, not too far away.
Sinking deeper into her woolen scarf and mittens, she scrunched her cap snug over her ears and eased along the shoveled sidewalk. The last thing she needed was to have a sprained ankle alongside Michael. In the distance Sugarcreek Mountain stood bold and protective around the small valley of Smitten. Stars twinkled overhead as Anna whispered a prayer for guidance. What would she say? How could she help? She took a deep breath and released it in a puff. Why did she worry? God would give her the answers when she needed them.
She arrived at the house and stepped up on the porch. Though the cottage was older, it had plenty of character with strong wooden columns and an inviting porch swing. She knocked, then wondered how he would let her in. Oh dear, she hadn’t thought about that. Her visit would only cause him more prob
lems. She should have called instead. Maybe he hadn’t heard her and she should just go. But what if he did hear her and he got up, and by the time he answered, she was gone?
Just then she heard uneven footsteps approaching the door.
The door swished open. “Anna, come on in.” Michael stood before her with a crutch snug under each arm. He seemed to be managing, but by the looks of his swollen ankle, he wasn’t going to get very far. He settled onto the sofa and lifted his leg onto the cushions. “What brings you here on this cold, wintry night?”
Closing the door securely behind her, she walked over to a chair near the sofa. “Your mother was worried and asked me to check on you. I’m sorry about your foot.”
“Stupid accident. I wasn’t paying attention.” He shrugged. “It happens.”
She glanced around at the clean hardwood floors, polished stands, simple rugs scattered about, plain boxy furniture, and sparse furnishings. In the corner lay an organized stack of magazines in a holder. Tidy, but sterile. A gas fireplace with flickering flames made the room feel cozy.
“So how are you getting along? I understand meals are being brought in for you.” Earlier she had wondered why everyone made such a fuss about a sprain, but she could see for herself that it was a nasty one.
“Yeah, Pastor Walden saw to it. There’s some leftover lasagna in the kitchen. Would you like some?”
“No thanks.” She tried to swallow the words that were scrambling to get out. “I suppose you could use help with errands and such for a few days. Places you need to go.”
“I’ll manage.” He moved his leg and winced.
“How? You can’t drive with that,” she said, pointing to his swollen right foot.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Listen, we both know you want to do this on your own, but the fact is you need help. We all do from time to time, you know. I’ve certainly had my turn. It was humbling at first, but that’s what we’re here for, to help each other.” She’d never said that aloud before and wondered why she was confessing it to a virtual stranger.
He shook his head. “I don’t want to bother anyone.”
“I know. But as I said, you have to learn to let folks help you.”
