Summer on Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber
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brought her brand-new knitting bag, filled with skeins of yarn in a restful sage-green color, her pattern and a pair of needles still in their clear plastic case. It was a lovely evening, but cool enough to require a sweater. Because she was early, she stopped at the French Café and purchased a half sandwich, pastrami on rye with mustard, and a cup of coffee.
Since the breakup, her appetite had suffered and she’d lost weight. This was the first hunger pang she’d experienced in two weeks, which was an encouraging sign. It felt like years since she’d been with Clark. That, too, was encouraging, and yet…
She struggled to hold back unexpected tears. The end of her engagement, the end of Clark’s presence in her life, necessary though it was, had brought her such grief. This was so much harder than anyone else imagined, than anyone would ever know. To her friends and her mother she came across as determined and unshakable, but Clark lingered constantly in her mind. It would get better soon; she’d told herself this so often that she’d actually started to believe it.
It had to.
Eventually this ache in her heart would lessen. However, right then, sitting by herself outside a café on a perfect summer evening, watching couples wander past holding hands, made her feel ten times worse. Ten times as lonely…
She crossed the street to A Good Yarn at precisely six. While eating her meal, she’d seen two other people walking into the yarn store and wondered if they were part of the Knit to Quit class, too. It didn’t seem likely. One was a man and the other apparently a street-savvy teenager.
The bell above the door jangled when she stepped inside, self-consciously clutching her supplies.
“Hi, Phoebe,” Lydia said, hurrying forward to greet her. “Everyone else is already here. Come on back and join us.”
Phoebe followed her to the rear of the store. The teenager and the man had both taken places at a large table and looked up as she approached. So she was wrong—these two were indeed part of the class. Well, it made for an interesting mix.
“This is Phoebe Rylander,” Lydia said, slipping an arm around Phoebe’s shoulders.
“Hi,” she said, nervously wiggling her fingers.
The man stood and extended his hand. “I’m Bryan Hutchinson. Everyone calls me Hutch.”
“Hi,” she said. Normally Phoebe wasn’t shy, but for some reason she felt awkward and unsure of herself. Maybe because this was a whole new venture for her, one that required skills she lacked. Although she’d done a bit of knitting as a girl, she’d never been very interested in any of the domestic crafts. Maybe that was about to change.
“I’m Alix, spelled with an I,” the girl said. Her hair was black, probably dyed, and she wore it in a short, spiky fashion that suited her. She had on a leather jacket and jeans. When she’d first noticed Alix-with-an-I, Phoebe had assumed she was a teenager, but on closer inspection she decided Alix had to be in her early twenties. The leather jacket was unzipped and revealed a cotton shirt with a lace collar in stark contrast to the rest of her appearance. She was obviously a bit unorthodox but that seemed rather charming to Phoebe. Smiling at Alix, who smiled back, Phoebe pulled out the chair next to her.
Lydia moved closer to the table. “Since this is a Knit to Quit class, I thought it might be helpful if we each shared the reason we joined and what we’re hoping to achieve by knitting.” She looked at Alix. “Would you mind starting us off, Alix?”
The young woman shrugged. “Sure, why not. As you know by now, my name is Alix.”
“With an I,” Hutch inserted, grinning.
“Right.” Alix gave him a cocky thumbs up. “I assume Lydia asked me to begin because I’ve taken classes here before. I learned to knit almost five years ago, when Lydia opened the shop.”
“Alix was in my original class and has become one of my dearest friends,” Lydia told them.
“I’ve changed a lot since that first class,” Alix went on to say. “Back then, I was pretty angry at the world. I’d gotten a bum rap on a drug possession charge. I think the judge must’ve realized that because he sentenced me to community service rather than jail.”
Hutch leaned closer to the table. “And you took up knitting as your community service? How did that work?”
“It was knitting for charity. I got approval from the court to knit a baby blanket for Project Linus. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to learn something constructive for once in my life.”
“Good idea,” Phoebe said, nodding. Alix certainly wasn’t typical of other young women her age. But then again, maybe she was….
“The reason I signed up for this class is that I started smoking before Jordan and I were married. All the stuff going on before the wedding turned out to be pretty stressful and I decided I needed a cigarette. I told myself I’d only smoke the one pack. As you might’ve guessed it ended up being a lot more than that and now I’m trying to quit.”
“I can’t believe you’re married,” Phoebe blurted out, then felt like a fool. “I mean, you seem so young.”
“I’m older than I look.” She laughed softly. “I hope it’s my appearance and not my behavior that made you think I was younger.”
“Of course!” Phoebe said.
“Definitely,” Hutch mumbled.
“Anyway, Jordan and I want to start a family. Before I get pregnant, I have to quit smoking. Knitting’s helped me through other things and…here I am.”
“And we’re glad you are,” Lydia told her. She turned to Hutch next. “What about you, Hutch?”
He was a nice-looking man, Phoebe thought, studying him across the table. It was difficult to tell how old he was. Midthirties, she guessed—although she’d just proven she wasn’t very good at judging age. He had pleasant, regular features and light-brown hair. Although she hated to admit it, he didn’t possess the strong masculine appeal of Clark. He seemed like a regular guy, not that there was anything wrong with that. What Phoebe did like was how interested he was in what everyone had to say. Other than her boss, she didn’t know many men who were good listeners.
Hutch sat back in his chair. “Actually, my doctor’s the one who suggested I try knitting. He’s a college classmate of mine. I was in for my annual checkup recently and Dave lectured me about working too hard and not getting enough exercise. I’m on medication for high blood pressure and, with a history of heart disease in the family, he felt I should find a method of relaxation. In fact,” Hutch said, “he told me he knits himself. I suppose that convinced me.”
“Your doctor’s very wise.” Lydia picked up the conversation. “Various studies have shown the health benefits of knitting as a form of relaxation. And from personal experience, I’d say that while our hands are at work on a project, we’re able to quiet our thoughts.”
Hutch nodded slowly. “Makes sense.”
“I think you’ve made an excellent choice. Obviously,” she added with a quick grin.
“Dave also said knitting would aid the healing process with my thumb.” He held up his right hand and showed where he’d cut himself. The scar was red and ugly.
“Another good point,” Lydia commented.
“So I’m here, but I have to tell you I’ve never held a pair of knitting needles in my life.”
“That’s not a problem,” Lydia said. “I’ve taught people how to knit since I was a teenager. I’m sure you’ll learn it easily.”
Hutch grinned. “Your confidence is reassuring.”
Lydia turned to Phoebe and gestured toward her. “Phoebe, can you tell us what prompted you to join Knit to Quit?”
She