The Knitting Diaries

by Debbie Macomber

  Robyn glanced over her shoulder, prepared to say that for some reason the man seemed to hate her. But as she looked again, she saw he wasn’t paying attention to her at all. When he did look up, his eyes carried the mild curiosity of any stranger.

  She faced front again, wondering if the long drive had tired her more than she’d thought. She must have imagined his animosity. After all, how could someone who never even met her loathe her on sight?

  Robyn parked in front of her grandmother’s pretty house in a quiet, suburban part of Georgetown. The houses all looked pristine—paint and landscaping all kept fresh and neat. This was a part of town where people took pride in their homes.

  She got out of the clunker she’d borrowed for the trip home. It was a car shared by a group of people. Robyn wasn’t sure who even owned it. She just knew that in two days a guy would arrive to drive it to California. Her job was to make sure it was full of gas and to hand over the keys.

  Her grandmother limped toward her. “What can I carry in?”

  “I’ll get it,” Robyn replied, frowning slightly. “Should you ice your knee?”

  “At this point, it’s beyond help.” Eleanor grinned. “But in a few weeks, I’ll have the left knee of a thirty-year-old. I’ve asked the doctor if he can do that to my behind as well, but he ignores me.”

  Robyn laughed. “Grandma, are you flirting with your medical professional?”

  “Mostly giving him a hard time. Now hand me something to carry.”

  Robyn passed over the lightest of the bags, then grabbed two more for herself. Deconstructing her life had taken less time than she would have thought, but despite selling or bartering nearly everything she owned, she’d still filled the car with her stuff.

  Once they were inside, Robyn followed Eleanor to the room that had been Robyn’s since the death of her mother. The windows were clean, the curtains freshly washed. The faint smell of new paint made her frown.

  “Tell me you didn’t paint this room for me,” she said. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy until you have your knee replacement surgery.”

  “I didn’t paint the room.” Her grandmother winked. “T.J. did it. He’s the nicest man. When I mentioned you were coming back and that I wanted to spruce up your room, he volunteered.”

  T.J. of the glaring eyes? Robyn had trouble believing that.

  After leaving the luggage, they went into the kitchen where all important meals, discussions and decisions occurred. Eleanor got out the kettle to make tea. Robyn took it from her.

  “Go sit. I’ll deal with this.”

  “You’re tired from your long drive,” her grandmother protested.

  “I can still boil water.”

  Everything was where she remembered. The delicate porcelain cups and saucers decorated with flowers. The carved wooden box that contained a dozen or so different types of loose tea in worn tins. The tea balls in the drawer to the right and the teapots themselves, in the cupboard next to the stove.

  “It’s wonderful to have you here,” her grandmother told her from her place at the Formica kitchen table. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” Robyn said. “I’m glad you asked me to come back.”

  “I hated to take you away from your career. However long you can give me is plenty.”

  There was no career, Robyn thought, feeling both ashamed and guilty. Once there’d been a dream, but it had died a couple of years ago, starved to death slowly and painfully. She’d actually been relieved when her grandmother had called and asked if Robyn could spare the time to take care of her after her knee replacement surgery.

  “I’m staying indefinitely,” Robyn announced. There was no way she was heading back to New York, but that wasn’t a conversation to have her first fifteen minutes back. She would bring it up gradually over the next few days.

  While she didn’t have the details of her plan worked out, she had a basic premise. She would help Eleanor for as long as she was needed, then she would find a job locally. She was an excellent waitress, with plenty of experience and recommendations. With all the wonderful restaurants in the area, she was confident she could find something nearby. She planned to live cheaply, save money and figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

  When the tea was ready, she carried the pot to the table and poured them each a cup. Her grandmother stirred in cream, then took a sip.

  “Lovely,” she breathed. “It tastes better with you here.”

  Robyn laughed.

  “How was the drive?”

  “Long.”

  “You got here quicker than I expected.”

  “I drove straight through.”

  Her grandmother set down her cup and stared at her. “Robyn, no. Why would you do that?”

  “I wanted to get home.”

  Which was mostly true. There was also the issue of not wanting to spend the money on a hotel room.

  “I drank plenty of coffee.”

  “You must be exhausted.”

  “My behind is a little draggy.”

  Eleanor squeezed her hand. “Sometimes I worry about you. All right. I’m going back to the store. You stay here and rest. Climb into bed and don’t think about getting out until I get home.”

  Bed did sound nice, Robyn thought. Her body ached from the drive and her eyes felt gritty.

  There was a knock at the front door.

  “I’ll get it,” she said, pushing herself to her feet.

  She crossed the living room and pulled open the door, only to find T.J. standing on the wide front porch.

  He didn’t look any happier to see her than he had before.

  Now that he was standing, Robyn realized he was taller than she’d thought, nearly a full head above her own five foot six. Lean, but with plenty of muscle, he looked like the kind of man who could handle himself in any situation. He had black hair that needed cutting and a determined expression. His dark eyes were cold and assessing as they stared at her over the threshold. If he would smile, she had a feeling he would be devastating…in a good way.

  “Marion says Eleanor is needed back at the store,” he said. “I came by to see if I could help you unload the car.”

  The kind words were totally at odds with his expression. It was like looking at a growling dog with a wagging tail. Robyn didn’t know which end to believe.

  “T.J.,” Eleanor said, coming up behind Robyn. “You didn’t have to come all this way.”

  “It’s five blocks.”

  “Still. You’re so thoughtful.” Eleanor patted Robyn’s arm. “After T.J. helps you, dear, get some rest.”

  “I will,” Robyn promised, then had to resist the need to beg her grandmother not to leave her alone with a man who seemed to find her so wanting.

  But she’d been fighting her own battles for a long time now, so she ignored T.J.’s steady gaze and ushered her grandmother to her car.

  When Eleanor had driven away, Robyn folded her arms over her chest and stared at T.J.

  “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here,” she said.

  “All right.” He glared at her. “I know your kind and I know what you want. Don’t for a minute think you’re going to get away with it. If you’re going to get to them, you’re going to have to go through me.”

  Two

  T.J. had to give the woman credit. She didn’t back down. Instead she went to her car and pulled out a couple of boxes, then started for the front door of the house.

  He followed her.

  “I thought you were here to help,” she said.

  “Help your grandmother, not you.”

  She set the boxes in the living room next to her suitcases. “So you’re a liar as well as someone who makes pretty incredible assumptions about someone they’ve only just met. Good to know.”

  She was pretty, he thought absently, in a too-thin kind of way. Her cheekbones nearly jutted through her pale skin. Her blond hair could be attractive, if it was a little longer. As it was
, the sleek, jaw-length bob only emphasized her sharp chin.

  She pointed to the door. “You need to go now.”

  “Not until I find out what you’re after.”

  Her blue eyes turned frosty. “What are you talking about? Eleanor is my grandmother. Has it occurred to you that I’m back to take care of her during her surgery? Where do you get off assuming anything bad about me? You don’t even know me.”

  “And you don’t know me.” He stared at her. “I’m a friend of hers and her friends. You’d know that if you’d bothered to get involved in their lives, but you haven’t even visited except for a couple of days here and there. You’ve been off in New York, taking care of yourself. Never giving a thought to these women who love you. Instead you’re sucking them dry. I couldn’t do anything about it before, but I sure can now, and I will.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed. She shook her head. “Do you think I’m after money?”

  “What else? They financed your move there and who knows how much they’re spending on a monthly basis. It’s expensive to live in the city. You’re sure as hell not supporting yourself in the theater.” He narrowed his gaze. “They might believe your lies, but I don’t. I’ve looked on the internet. You haven’t been in a play in over three years. Although to hear them brag, you’re going to be up for a Tony any day now.”

  She flushed, then ducked her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He knew enough, he thought grimly. He knew that she wanted Eleanor and her friends to think she was on her way to making it as an actress. T.J. was willing to overlook a lot of faults, but he wasn’t one to forgive a liar. Especially when those lies hurt people he cared about.

  He might have come to Only Ewe reluctantly and because taking the knitting class got his doctor off his ass. But over time, he’d found that it was a safe place to be. There were no memories in the store. Just grandmotherly types who fussed over him and made being alive a little less painful.

  He spent the first six months resisting their efforts to embrace him. Over time, they’d sucked him into their world. Once he’d given himself over to the process, he’d begun to heal.

  Now they were his family and there was no way a skinny, selfish wannabe actress was going to hurt them. He would have to tread carefully—he knew Eleanor adored her granddaughter. But there were ways of protecting the old ladies without them catching on.

  “I know enough,” he told her. “I’ll be watching and waiting.”

  “You’re going to have to do that from the other side of the door,” she told him, pointing. “Get out.”

  He went. When she slammed the door, he only smiled. If she thought a couple of pieces of wood were enough to protect her from him, she was wrong.

  Robyn woke shortly after five-thirty in the morning. It took her a second to realize she’d slept for nearly fifteen hours straight. She was starving, but for the first time in forever, she felt rested and at peace.

  She was home. She’d moved in with her grandmother after her mother had died. Robyn had been twelve and scared, but never alone. Eleanor had always been a part of her life. They’d been a close family, the three Mulligan women.

  She showered in the bathroom across the hall, then dressed. It felt good not to have to put on her waitressing uniform. If she never wore a short black skirt and white shirt again in her life, she would be happy.

  Her favorite jeans were loose, she thought, knowing she’d lost another couple of pounds in the past week. All that running around and not so much on the eating. But that would change, she told herself. One of the great things about Texas was the food. There was plenty of it and she would be able to afford it.

  Robyn dug around in a bottom dresser drawer to find an old T-shirt to pull on. As she grabbed the one on top, she felt something hard tucked underneath. A book, she thought, pulling that out as well. Only, it wasn’t a book.

  The worn cover had once been bright blue. Time had left the fabric faded to a more gray color. The pages were a little tattered at the edges. She slipped on the T-shirt, then sat on the bed and flipped through what had once been her diary.

  Her grandmother had given her the book years ago. Robyn couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve. The first entries were about dance classes and singing lessons, ideas for a sweater she wanted to make her mother for Christmas. Later her thoughts had shifted to boys and fashion, until her mother had gotten sick. Then Robyn hadn’t written in her diary for a long time.

  Now she turned to the last page and read.

  “I head to New York tomorrow. I’m not afraid. I’m going there to make all my dreams come true. Not just for me, but for my mom, too. She never had the chance. It’s up to me to make this happen for both of us.”

  Robyn closed the book. She hadn’t been able to make her mother’s dreams come true—or her own. Even a few months ago, that knowledge would have been painful. Now she understood that everything had changed. That facing her future with courage was a way to finally be free.

  She put the diary back in the drawer, made her way to the kitchen and started coffee.

  After opening the refrigerator, she nearly swooned at the sight of eggs and bacon, fruit, and hamburger thawing on a plate. If she wasn’t mistaken, her grandmother was planning on her famous spaghetti that night. Robyn’s mouth watered at the memory of the delicious sauce smothering a huge plate of noodles.

  While the coffee brewed, she moved into the dining room. Family pictures lined the walls. Her mother as a young girl, dressed in a tutu, standing on her toes. Her mother as a teenager, in costume for a school play.

  There were similar pictures of Robyn as she’d grown up. At the ballet barre at her mother’s dance studio. In high school productions. Their dreams were the same—to be on the stage. To make it on Broadway.

  Instead of leaving for New York, Robyn’s mother had fallen in love. When she’d discovered she was pregnant, the man who had stolen her heart had taken off, leaving her alone. She’d been determined that Robyn wouldn’t follow in her footsteps. From the time Robyn could understand what her mother was saying, she’d heard over and over again that a man only got in the way of a woman’s dream. She knew she had to do better. That she had to be successful for both herself and her mother.

  Her grandmother had tried to temper the message, saying life was balance, but it was too little, too late. Robyn had gone to New York after college, determined to be the best. Failure hadn’t been an option, but it had happened just the same.

  She heard footsteps in the hallway and looked up.

  “Good morning,” she said when she saw Eleanor. “I can’t believe I slept straight through.”

  “You needed it.”

  “I’m feeling much better.” She crossed to the older woman and hugged her. “How are you?”

  “Happy to have you home. I thought we’d have spaghetti tonight.”

  “I saw that. My stomach is still growling at the thought.”

  They went into the kitchen. While Eleanor poured coffee, Robyn got out eggs and did her best not to whimper in anticipation. She inhaled the smell of the bacon, sipped coffee and dropped toast into the toaster.

  “Just one slice for me,” Eleanor said. “I’m cutting back a little. I wanted to lose ten pounds before my surgery. Only one more to go. You’re incredibly thin, Robyn. What’s your secret?”

  Not having enough money to buy food, she thought grimly. “I’m on my feet all the time and I’m so busy, I forget to eat.” She gave a fake laugh. “The working girl’s diet. I’m hoping to put on a few pounds now that I’m back.”

  “Easy enough. I’ll make cinnamon rolls this weekend.”

  “I’d like that.”

  They sat across from each other at the table. As Robyn devoured the food, she studied her grandmother, taking in the familiar features, the new lines around her eyes. Eleanor wasn’t getting younger, but she was still healthy and active. Robyn hoped to have her for at least another twenty years.

 
“You looked busy at the store,” Robyn said when she’d inhaled the three eggs she’d scrambled, along with four pieces of bacon.

  “We are. The Old Town section of Georgetown is always so active and vital. We have our loyal customer base and plenty of new customers. Knitting is very in these days.” Eleanor frowned. “Do you young people still say ‘in’?”

  Robyn grinned. “We understand what it means.”

  “I want to stay current,” her grandmother said primly. “I even text.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I see you and T.J. got everything in from your car.”

  T.J. hadn’t been any help at all, Robyn thought, pushing away the last slice of toast. Thinking about the irritating man spoiled the rest of her appetite.

  She’d been afraid obsessing about him would have kept her up, but fortunately she’d been too exhausted to let him interrupt her sleep. He’d been so annoying and oddly attractive, which really bothered her.

  Still, she couldn’t figure out where he got the idea she was a bad person. As for leeching off her grandmother, yes, Eleanor and her friends had financed Robyn’s move to New York, but nothing else. She’d been determined to survive on her own and she had.

  “You said he’d been coming to the store for a couple of years,” she murmured.

  “Yes. His doctor sent him. It was very sad. His wife and baby son were killed in a car accident. Apparently he wasn’t expected to make it, either. But he did. He was in physical therapy for months. He was told to take up knitting to help with his fine motor skills.” She smiled. “I confess Adeline, Marion and I have pretended to be far more helpless than we are to try to bring him back to life.”

  “That was very sweet of you,” Robyn said automatically, not sure what to do with the revelation. The man who had accused her of being a horrible person and a leech was someone she could easily dislike. The injured guy who lost his wife and young son was someone else entirely.

  “He’s still not healed,” Eleanor said with a sigh as she rose to her feet. “On the outside, he’s fine, but I do worry about his heart. It’s still broken. He’s so closed off. Oh, he’s friendly enough, but nothing really touches him.”