How to Knit a Love Song

by Rachael Herron

  Cade steadied Abigail in place with his hands, and she tried in vain to forget where his hand had just been. It was no good, though; she still felt the burn of his palm against her skin, her breast.

  She took a deep breath and willed her color to go down. She knew she was beet red. Maybe they would blame it on pain. That was for sure what she was going to blame it on.

  Cade swung off, effortlessly, hardly moving Abigail at all in the process. Then, from the ground, he reached up his arms and told her how to fall from the animal into his arms.

  “I’ll guard your leg and your foot, trust me.”

  And even though he was the same guy that had told her just that morning that he would never trust her again, she did trust him. She fell to the side, raising her good foot, lifting it over the horse. She slid into his arms, and he turned at the last moment, raising her body so that her foot didn’t hit the ground.

  But it still hurt so bad she wanted to swear a blue streak. So she did, raising Tom’s eyebrows and making Janet howl with laughter.

  “Our little sailor,” she said. “Now, let’s get you to the car. We’ll take mine, since we don’t want to have to throw you in the back of a pickup, and it seems as if it’s all you people have around here.”

  Cade started to tell Janet that he’d just take her himself, but she cut him off.

  “We’re coming, too. You’ll need someone to keep you company while she gets X-rays.”

  Cade shook his head, and leaned Abigail against Tom’s truck as if she were a stick of wood.

  “Cade, I think we should,” said Tom. “It’s a nice idea. What if she needs something? Gets lonely in a hospital.”

  Cade looked at him incredulously. “Tom? When you had appendicitis, you stuck a vial of horse penicillin in your leg and didn’t go to the hospital until a week later, when your appendix burst. You were out in less than twelve hours and back at work a day later. You don’t do hospitals.”

  Janet looked impressed.

  Tom said, “Just ’cause I’m a stubborn cuss doesn’t mean she has to be, does it? And maybe I learned my lesson. Always better to go to the doc sooner rather than later.”

  “I don’t know what you’ve done with Tom, but put him back the way he was before you leave,” Cade said to Janet.

  Janet merely snapped her fingers at him and said, “Bring our girl to my car. It’s over on the other side of the house, by the cottage.”

  Cade sighed. “Does everyone always do what she wants?”

  “Everyone,” said Abigail. “Always.”

  “For God’s sake. Hold on.”

  And he swung her up in his arms.

  “I’m too heavy for you!”

  “A hay bale weighs more than you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “After fifteen years of baling hay, yes, I’m sure. Now, quit kicking around. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  So Abigail relaxed, and let herself be carried. Strangely enough, it felt good. She felt safe. Her ankle hurt like hell, but the rest of her felt just fine.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The magic of knitting is that very small acts add up into something substantial, useful, and beautiful.

  —E.C.

  Cade hadn’t been to this hospital since Tom had called him for a ride after his appendectomy. But he knew where it was, and he followed Janet’s car, grumbling to Tom the whole way.

  Janet drove faster than an ambulance loaded with a heart-attack patient. She screeched into the emergency-room parking lot and then ran through the open doors.

  “She’s fast on those heels, ain’t she?” Tom was openly admiring.

  A nurse ran outside with Janet, took one concerned look at Abigail, shook her head, and walked back in.

  “See? It’s just an ankle. I don’t know why we’re all here,” said Cade.

  Tom gave him a look before getting out of the truck. He leaned forward and turned down the police scanner that Cade kept in the truck to listen for wildfire reports. “I know why I’m here. I bet you do, too.”

  Once inside, the staff responded with surprising alacrity, whisking Abigail off to X-ray.

  “I guess that leaves the three of us out here, then.” Janet looked happy about it, Cade thought.

  Tom, Cade realized, had a similar look.

  “Am I going to be a third wheel here?”

  Janet said, “You’ll just have to be an entertaining third wheel.” She patted the seat across from her in the waiting room.

  “So, tell me everything, cowboy. Tom says you’re a great boss, and my friend says you’re a great kisser.”

  Cade’s almost tripped over the waiting-room rug. Abigail had said that?

  Tom made a muffled snorting sound through his nose and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “She, um, what?”

  “Dusty Diego. You know her, I believe.”

  Tom said, “Sounds like a stripper name.”

  “That’s helpful,” said Cade. “Thanks, Tom.” But he breathed easier. Maybe Janet didn’t know everything.

  Janet arched her eyebrows. “Do you even remember her?”

  “Of course I do,” snapped Cade. “We dated quite a while.”

  “You dated two months. You consider that a long time?”

  “For him it is,” said Tom.

  Janet tucked a high heel under her and said, “I’m not attacking you. I’m only trying to tell you I know how you’ve been in the past.”

  “Lady, I don’t know you from Adam. Number one, I can’t imagine you know anything about me at all, and number two, why would I care?”

  “I know sometimes you go for drinks on Tuesday nights at Larry’s Grill, and I know sometimes you meet women and then you date them right up to the point that they fall in love with you, and then you dump them.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Really, Cade. I’m not judging. We have nowhere to go right now. We should get to know each other.”

  Who was this? Why was he having to listen to this crap?

  “Tom, I’m going to get something to drink.” He didn’t look at Janet as he marched away.

  She called after him, “Black coffee, darling. One sugar, raw if they have it.”

  He’d be damned if he got her anything at all. His blood boiled.

  He went to the cafeteria, got a coffee for himself and no one else, and then wandered the halls. He was in no hurry to get back to Janet and Tom, none at all.

  Going around a corner, he almost stumbled over Abigail, sitting in a wheelchair under the hallway fluorescent lights, wearing a flimsy paper robe. She was knitting something red. Had Janet picked up her knitting for her? Or was it like magic, that she always had knitting with her, like Eliza?

  Abigail held the needles up and waved them. “Knit through everything,” she said. Then she dropped the yarn into her lap and ran a quick hand through her hair. “Hi,” she said in a quieter voice, looking at the floor.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “They took X-rays and now I’m waiting for the doctor to read them.”

  “And they’re making you wait out here?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Even in the paper gown, she was so goddamn pretty. Even now, he wanted his hands on her.

  And he reminded himself, again, for the thousandth time today, that she was trying to start a workshop. In his cottage, which wasn’t his, on his land, which he didn’t own anymore.

  But when she looked at him like that, with those huge blue eyes, he forgot everything for a minute. All he could think about was the shape and feel of her mouth.

  No. They were here because of her ankle. Which was an injury sustained on his land, so he was just a concerned landowner who wanted to avoid a lawsuit.

  God, a lawsuit. Wouldn’t that be something? Him, being sued by her, living together in the same damn farmhouse?

  He had to get her out of his house. And fast.

  “You’re looking better. Don’t look as gray as you did.�
��

  “Must have looked great.” She ran her hand through her hair again. Was it a nervous tic?

  She couldn’t be self-conscious; she was too pretty. He was sure she knew it, that she’d been told that a million times before, by a thousand men, but he said, without even thinking about it, “You’re gorgeous.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t need to do that.”

  He couldn’t push it, didn’t need to, didn’t even want to, didn’t know why he’d felt he had to say it, but she was gorgeous, and he could leave it at that.

  Maybe that would get this itch out of his system.

  She licked her lips, and his blood pressure rose.

  Okay. Maybe the only thing that would help would be to get out of her presence.

  Or having her again, soft and willing underneath him, moving with him, at his pace, with him in every way.

  He almost groaned out loud.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Fine. Hey, you have to sit out here? Or you wanna wait in the waiting room? Tom and Janet are still out there.”

  She nodded. “Come on, give me a ride.”

  Then she went fire-engine red.

  He almost laughed, but couldn’t, not quite. He was too busy thinking about taking her up on the offer.

  Janet and Tom appeared pleased to see them, although Cade thought they looked like they might have forgotten why exactly they were there. Both looked mildly puzzled when Cade rolled Abigail up.

  “Darling! What do they say?”

  “Nothing yet, waiting for X-rays.” Abigail waved her hands at them, as if to shoo them off. “I’m still not sure why you all are here, though. Why don’t you go out somewhere? Go shopping, or go back to work, for the love of God. It’s just my ankle.”

  Janet shook her head. “We’re ignoring you now. Knit, dearest. Sit in that fancy chair and look pretty. I want to hear more from Cade.”

  “Wait a second. Hang on.” Cade wouldn’t take any more grilling. “Who are you exactly? I’m still not quite sure how you even know Abigail here.”

  “Oh! Have I never properly introduced myself? I’m in textiles. I’m Abigail’s best friend, and I like to call myself her manager. And I know who you are because—”

  “Don’t care,” he interrupted, not caring if he sounded rude. “How are you her manager?”

  “It’s a figure of speech. I’m a little bossy.”

  “I am shocked to hear it.”

  “Is there a specific reason you don’t like me, Cade? Or do you just not like the cut of my jib? Substitute your favorite farm phrase—I was raised on boats, myself. We should talk about it, or we won’t get through it.”

  His blood pressure rose again, and not in the same way it had in the hallway when he’d been looking at Abigail. What did Abigail see in this woman?

  For that matter, what did Tom see in her? Tom was still goo-goo eyed. Cade wanted to kick him.

  Janet said, “Sweetheart, I’m not the bad guy.” She laughed and waved a hand at Tom, “I mean, I am a bad girl, but that’s not the point. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I was being nosy. I apologize. I’m like that.”

  “She’s like that,” said Abigail.

  “My wonder girl, my favorite writer, and my friend, has moved up from far away, and she’s now living in my backyard. I couldn’t be more thrilled. However, I don’t know you well, and all I’ve heard are rather colorful things. She’s had enough trouble with men, especially lately. So now I’m trying to get to know you myself. I have to make sure you’re not a mass murderer.”

  “Fine.” Cade dropped into a metal chair, resigned. “Let me have it.”

  “Do you have any children?”

  He choked. “No.”

  “Have you ever been married?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Why not?”

  “Didn’t come up.”

  “Ever been in love?”

  “Of course.” How long was she going to keep this up?

  “When? Who?”

  “I feel like I’m on a date. Who’s buying dinner?”

  “Darling, I’ll buy. You tell me all I want to know though, won’t you? So, when were you in love?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Janet laughed. “I knew it! You’ve never been in love.”

  “I have felt very fondly about women.”

  “Have they told you they loved you?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “What did you say back?”

  “I said thank you.”

  “You never said it back?”

  “I don’t like to lie.”

  “Don’t you want to fall in love?” Janet asked.

  “Do you?”

  “Of course. It’s my favorite thing in the world to do. I’m fabulous at it.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Cade.

  “You’re wasting it on me; send it that way.” Cade jerked his chin toward Tom.

  “So this whole Abigail-living-with-you thing? In your house? How has that been for you?”

  “Janet!” said Abigail.

  “Are you an agent or a therapist?” Cade asked. Janet wasn’t grating on him as much. She was almost interesting.

  “Do you mind sharing your house with her though? Or is it a relief?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Don’t you get lonely? Knocking around that old house of yours?”

  “I don’t get lonely. I love being by myself in my home.”

  Janet sighed. “Sure you’re not fibbing to yourself? Maybe? Just a little?”

  He shook his head, and felt a small smile creep onto his face. He didn’t dare look at Abigail. “I don’t think so. I like being by myself. I like cooking for myself. I like walking around the house naked when I want to.”

  “Well, sweetness, I’m sure Abigail wouldn’t mind being cooked for, and there’s a chance that she wouldn’t mind if you walked around naked, either.”

  “Hey!” said Abigail.

  “See?” said Cade. “She’d mind.” How much had Abigail revealed to Janet? Did she know about the night on the sofa? The tears?

  And about how he’d freaked out when confronted with the idea that Abigail might have been setting him up from the beginning?

  He bet that she did. He took another sip of his coffee and stretched his neck. “How long does it take to get the results around here, huh?”

  Janet continued, “So what about this cottage? Doesn’t look like you ever really used it, so you don’t mind that it went to her in the inheritance, do you?”

  “I mind. I don’t know why.” He surprised himself with his honesty.

  “What’s not to know? Are you jealous that you didn’t get everything? I think I would be, in your case.” She didn’t pause long enough to let him speak. “But if I were you, living alone in that old barn of yours, I would have seen this pretty little thing over there, driving up that driveway, and I would have started thanking my lucky stars that our good old Eliza loved Abigail that much.”

  “I don’t live in a barn. And wait, our what? You knew Eliza?”

  “She was one of my favorite people in the world.”

  “Of course she was.” Cade sighed. He should probably just give up now.

  Janet bounced in her chair and turned to Abigail. “You know how she designed Nordic Curtsey when she lived here? Maybe you can design a modern interpretation, now that you’re here.”

  “I don’t really think it needs updating. It’s still current, and it’s so pretty. And it’s already so famous….”

  Tom said, “Sweaters are famous? Why would a sweater be famous?”

  “Eliza was pretty well known,” said Abigail.

  “She was known for sweaters?” Tom sounded incredulous.

  “You sweater people are kind of crazy,” said Cade.

  Janet said, “The craziest! And now that we’ll have a new store in the area, people can’t be more excited. The only good place to go up until now was up the coast,
a good hour and a half drive, and that’s just too far to drive sometimes.”

  “A new store?” Tom said, still looking far out of his depth.

  “The store Abigail’s starting up.”

  Cade blinked.

  “Store?” Janet had to be wrong. It was just some sort of classroom, right?

  “Did you not know, Tom? I thought I mentioned it at lunch.”

  Abigail jumped in, “It’s not really a store, not exactly.”

  “What’s the difference between a store and a place where you sell stuff?”

  “On the ranch?” Tom took a few steps back.

  Abigail said, “I thought I’d have some knitting classes out of my cottage. Maybe some spinning lessons. Sell a few things, like wheels and fiber and maybe a little yarn.”

  “A store,” Cade said, with more venom than he had planned. He wasn’t sorry he’d spit it out like that though.

  “I suppose so.”

  “Does it have a name yet?”

  Abigail was quiet, and looked at her lap. She was as pale as the wall behind her, but Cade didn’t let his compassion be stirred.

  “Does it? I bet it does.”

  “I was thinking of Eliza’s, but I wanted to get your approval first. Before I order the sign.”

  “The sign? That will be visible from the highway, I’m sure.”

  “Just a little one, you’d only be able to see it from the county road.”

  “So MacArthur Ranch, which I’ve spent the last fifteen years making profitable and well respected, but for which I don’t have an actual sign, will suddenly become known for its yarn? Its spinning wheels? Its alpacas?”

  “We can get you a sign. I’ll buy you one.”

  “I can afford a sign. I just never thought I’d need one.”

  Cade stood. She couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let this happen, no matter how attracted he was to her. “You won’t open a store on my land.”

  Abigail placed both hands on the arms of the wheelchair and stared up at him. He’d expected to see her hesitate. But there was a flame in her eyes that he hadn’t bargained on, even though he’d seen it once before, in the parlor that night.

  “I won’t. You are correct. But I will open one on my land.”