The Knitting Diaries

by Debbie Macomber

  Robyn could think of a lot of descriptions for T.J. and the words friendly enough didn’t make her list. But he’d apparently become a friend to her aunt and her friends, for which Robyn was grateful. But that didn’t mean she had to like the man.

  Eleanor carried her plates over to the sink. “I enjoyed having breakfast with you. It’s been a long time.”

  Robyn stood, as well. “It has. Too long. Grandma, I need to talk to you about what happened in New York.” It was time to come clean about her past.

  Her grandmother smiled at her. “I would love to hear all of it, but I need to get to the store. We have an early class today. Can it wait?”

  Robyn nodded. “Sure.”

  “Good. Come to the store whenever you’re ready.”

  Robyn stayed behind long enough to clean the kitchen, then she walked the five blocks to Only Ewe and let herself in the back. Even though it was a few minutes before eight, she heard the rumble of low conversation coming from the front part of the store. She walked around the corner, through the stockroom and stepped into the main space, only to freeze in her tracks when she saw seven or eight high school guys staring intently at the knitting needles and yarn in their hands. What on earth?

  The guys were huge, with broad shoulders and massive fingers. She didn’t think she would be more surprised to see hedgehogs knitting. She blinked, then looked again. Yup, they were still there, with T.J. at the head of the table, giving instructions.

  Her grandmother limped over to her. “They come every week,” she said in a quiet voice. “Their coach’s wife knits and she and I got to talking about how it would help them with their concentration. I mentioned it to T.J. He resisted at first, but we kept on him.” She smiled. “The little projects keep him distracted. He’s suffered so much.”

  “He has,” Robyn said automatically, her gaze moving to T.J.

  He glanced up just then, his dark eyes meeting hers. The annoyance was back, as was the determination. The man obviously hadn’t changed his opinion of her.

  “I don’t think he…” she began, then stopped when she saw her grandmother looking at him with an expression of affection and pride.

  She pressed her lips together. There was no reason to point out that T.J. obviously didn’t like her. Right now she doubted her grandmother would believe her. It didn’t matter anyway. She didn’t need T.J.’s or anyone’s approval. This was her home. She was back and no crabby man was going to drive her away.

  Three

  Robyn stood on the step stool and balanced the bucket of soapy water. After raising herself onto her tiptoes, she stretched her arm over the shelf and scrubbed it with the sponge.

  From what she could tell, the stockroom hadn’t been cleaned since she left six years ago. Not that she would expect elderly women to take on that kind of chore. But there was plenty of dust and grit ready to be washed away. After a good rinsing, she would dry the shelves, then put back the yarn. She figured it would take her two days to get through the entire stockroom.

  She didn’t mind the physical labor. After the stress that had been her life, she enjoyed getting something specific accomplished. She also liked the chance to think.

  Once Eleanor was back on her feet, Robyn would have to see about getting another job. She doubted the store could afford four of them on the payroll. Waitressing was the most obvious kind of job. With her references, she could start at the more exclusive restaurants in Austin. Bigger bills usually meant bigger tips. As long as the place was busy. Fifteen to twenty percent of no customers wouldn’t work for her.

  She was also thinking she could try to talk to a career counselor. While her degree in fine arts hadn’t exactly been long on practicality, there had to be some transferable skills. If not, she wanted to explore other kinds of schooling. Maybe a few business courses would help. She was also toying with the idea of teaching. She’d always loved kids and her favorite times in New York had been helping one of her girlfriends teach a juniors acting class.

  She was so engrossed in her cleaning, that she didn’t hear anyone walk into the stockroom. She leaned to get the farthest corner of the top shelf, only to jump and shriek when she bumped into something hard and warm.

  She turned away from the sensation and found herself stepping out into space. The only thing that saved her from falling was a strong arm wrapping around her legs until she regained her balance.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” she snapped, glaring down at T.J. “Why are you sneaking around?”

  His normal loathing expression looked almost amused. “I wasn’t sneaking. Marion’s going out for sandwiches and she wanted me to ask you if you wanted one.”

  “I brought lunch from home,” she said.

  “You mean instead of having your grandmother pay for your lunch out, you’re letting her pay for you to take her food from her house.”

  She did her best not to blush. Despite how she felt about him, he was telling the truth—at least about that. She wasn’t paying for the food. She hoped that her hard work made it a fair exchange, but she couldn’t say for sure.

  Part of her wanted to point out that her grandmother loved her and would do anything for her. Eleanor would never begrudge her a few meals. But saying that meant admitting even the tiniest part of what T.J. thought of her was true and she refused to go down that road.

  “I can see I was mistaken,” she said, returning to her cleaning. “When I first saw you, I thought you were a cowboy. I was wrong. You talk way too much to be anything but a business type.”

  He surprised her by chuckling. “That’s your grandmother’s fault. And those other two. I never used to talk at all.”

  “You could practice being quiet.”

  “I could,” he agreed. “But I won’t.”

  “Because you’re determined to protect them from me.”

  He nodded.

  “Won’t you feel like a jerk when you find out you’ve been wrong,” she told him.

  “I would, but we both know I’m right.”

  She drew in a breath and stared down into his dark eyes. “No. We don’t.”

  He studied her for a long time, then turned to leave. He took a few steps. If she hadn’t known about the bad accident, she might not have noticed the slight hesitation in his stride, as if he had to think before he moved. When he reached the doorway, he faced her again.

  “You’re going to have to tell them the truth about your so-called career,” he said. “Or I will.”

  Robyn sat at the big craft table in the rear of the store with the other beginners. She’d chosen a lightweight cotton blend from the sale bin and size seven bamboo needles for her first project. Six years ago she could have whipped out a complex pattern without having to blink. Today the idea of a simple rectangular wrap was daunting.

  “It will come back to you,” Adeline told her encouragingly. “Your fingers remember.”

  Maybe, Robyn thought doubtfully. Right now her fingers felt stiff and uncooperative.

  She cast on the first row, working slowly, awkwardly. Her hands seemed to work in opposition, rather than as a team. But as she started the second row, she was pleased to see that her stitches were even. All was not lost.

  “Oh, no.” The young woman sitting next to Robyn stared at her own project, her eyes wide with dismay. “I dropped a stitch. It’s gone.”

  She sounded heartbroken.

  Without thinking, Robyn put down her project and reached for the woman’s needles. “It’s just hiding,” she said with a smile. “We’ll find it.”

  The panel looked to be the front of a sweater for a child. The stitches were small and a little lumpy, but the pattern was nice.

  Robyn peered at the work, counting stitches, then seeing where the slipped stitch had disappeared. She coaxed the yarn up and over the needle, worked the stitch, then handed it back to the customer.

  “There you go.”

  The woman stared at her. “That was impressive. Are you sure you want to be in the beginner gr
oup?”

  “I haven’t knit in years. I guess there are some things you don’t forget.”

  “Apparently not. I’m Belinda.”

  “Hi. Robyn. Eleanor’s my grandmother, so I might have a genetic advantage.”

  The petite brunette laughed. “I come from a long line of women who weren’t the least bit creative. But I’m determined to learn something. Cake decorating turned out to be a complete disaster, so I’ve moved on to knitting. I really like it, plus it’s something I can do while my daughter is at dance class.”

  “Absolutely,” Robyn agreed with her. “It would be more difficult to travel with cake decorating supplies.”

  Belinda laughed.

  Robyn glanced up in time to see her grandmother smiling approvingly. She told herself to enjoy the moment because as soon as she confessed all, everything would change. For now, it was enough to be here, to feel the yarn in her hands, to see the colors and textures. Even though she hadn’t been able to afford knitting supplies while she’d been gone, she hadn’t been able to resist going into some of the knitting stores just to look at the yarn, to hold it in her hands and dream about what she could create.

  She continued to knit and chat with the other customers. Marion walked around the table, offering advice and giving praise.

  “It’s too bad you weren’t able to keep up with your knitting in New York,” the older woman said. “I thought all actors did something on set to pass the time.”

  “That would be in the movies,” Eleanor told her. “Between takes. Robyn was on the stage.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  Belinda turned to Robyn. “You’re an actress? On Broadway?”

  Robyn felt herself flush. “Not exactly.”

  “She was very successful,” Eleanor said proudly. “Practically nominated for a Tony.”

  “I wish,” Robyn muttered. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “How exciting,” Belinda said with a sigh. “I’ve never even been out of the state. I got married right after high school and was pregnant before I was twenty. Now I have three kids. But one day…”

  Marriage and three kids sounded kind of nice, Robyn thought. Having a home, knowing where she belonged. At least Belinda hadn’t wasted her life and her opportunities. Robyn had worked her butt off and for what? The chance to become a really good waitress?

  Thankfully, the subject changed to the empty store next door and speculation about who would lease it.

  With the lunch hour came a rush of customers. Robyn put away her project and got up to help her grandmother. As she rang up yarn and talked patterns, she was aware of Eleanor’s limping stride as she walked around the store. Had the other woman put off the surgery longer than she should have to give Robyn more time in New York?

  Robyn knew T.J. would tell her yes, and blame her for everything from the economy to global warming. While she wasn’t willing to take responsibility for all of that, she couldn’t help wondering if her grandmother had suffered on her behalf. It wasn’t a happy thought.

  Tonight, she promised herself. She would tell them the truth tonight, after the store closed.

  Robyn kept her word. Shortly after six, when the customers were finally gone and the front doors locked, she walked to the craft table where her grandmother and her two friends were waiting. They’d all agreed to stay so she could talk to them about what it was like living in New York. She was determined to be brutally honest—as much for the sake of her conscience as for their edification.

  Now, as she looked at their three loving faces, she wished she had a different story to tell. Disappointing people was hard enough. Disappointing the three women who loved her best in the world would be like cutting out part of her heart.

  Marion smiled at her. “We were just talking about what a pretty girl you were. So talented. I remember your first dance recital.”

  “Didn’t she sing, too?” Adeline asked. “That song from Annie.”

  “You were very special,” Eleanor said. “I was so proud when you got the lead in the high school play and you were only a freshman. The other students were furious, but you were the best.”

  “Oh, and that college production of Grease. You were the perfect Sandy.” Eleanor sighed. “Such happy times.”

  Robyn swallowed hard, then pulled out a chair across from the three of them and sat down.

  “Those are all great memories,” she began, telling herself it was for the best to come clean. “I really thought I was going to show up in New York and immediately become a star.” Like hundreds of thousands of other young, foolish dreamers did every year, she thought ruefully. Reality was very different.

  “You might not be a star yet,” Eleanor told her. “But you’ve made excellent progress.”

  “No, I haven’t.” Robyn looked at each of them. “I wasn’t completely honest with you. About anything. My career wasn’t going well. It wasn’t going at all.”

  The women exchanged glances.

  “What do you mean?” Adeline asked.

  “At first I did go on a lot of auditions. I got a few parts. But then everything sort of dried up. In high school and college, I was one of the best. But in New York, there were a thousand other girls just like me. Acting classes are expensive. I burned through the money you gave me in a few months and had to start waitressing just to pay the rent.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” her grandmother asked.

  “Because I didn’t want you to worry. Because I was ashamed of not being everything everyone thought I would be.” Robyn stared at her hands on the table. “I haven’t had a callback in two years.” She forced herself to raise her gaze. “I lived in a sixth-floor walk-up. One small room, with the tiniest bathroom ever. I’m not skinny because it’s fashionable, but because I can’t afford much food. When I got pneumonia two years ago, it wiped me out financially. I didn’t have insurance and the bills kept coming. I’ve paid them all now, but it’s been tough.”

  “Oh, Robyn,” Marion breathed. “You should have said something.”

  “I couldn’t. I had to make it on my own. At least that’s what I told myself. I wasn’t giving up. But it’s been six years. I’m done trying. I want a real life. I want to not be hungry anymore. I haven’t had a steak since I left Texas. I haven’t been on a date in three years and I haven’t…”

  She stopped. There was no reason for her grandmother and her friends to know how long it had been since she’d been with a man. That definitely fell into the category of too much information.

  “Is this why you always put us off when we wanted to visit?” her grandmother asked gently.

  She nodded. “It was easier for me to come here for a couple of days. I could still pretend that way.” She paused. “I think dreams are great. But mine turned into a nightmare. I’m ready to be done. I was so grateful when you asked me to come back. Knowing you needed me gave me permission to finally admit the truth to myself. That I was desperate to come back home. This is where I belong.”

  Robyn tried to smile and wasn’t sure she succeeded. “When you’re up on your feet again, I’m going to find a job and get my own place. I want to save some money, go back to college and figure out what to do with the rest of my life.” She swallowed. “I hope you’re not too disappointed in me.”

  Her grandmother rose and started around the table. Robyn hurried to meet her, then was pulled into a warm, loving embrace. Adeline and Marion joined in, making her feel safe and welcome.

  “I could never be disappointed in you,” Eleanor said fiercely. “I love you and I’m thrilled you’re back to stay.”

  “We all are,” Marion told her.

  “Silly girl,” Adeline murmured.

  T.J. stood slowly. He’d walked in through the back just about the time Robyn started talking to her grandmother and had stayed to listen. After a couple of minutes, he’d thought maybe she was telling the truth. That she wasn’t the leech he’d first thought.

  She’d had a tough time, he admitted to himself,
and he felt kind of bad she’d gone hungry trying to pay her bills. Maybe he should give her a break and let her prove herself to him instead of assuming the worst.

  Four

  Robyn had forgotten that age twelve began the time of eye rolling. As she explained how to cast on, the girls in the group listened attentively, while the boys looked embarrassed and bored.

  The students were part of the Georgetown Partners in Education program that teamed the school district with local businesses. The idea was that getting kids engaged in the community before they were teenagers made for better citizens later down the road. At her grandmother’s request, Robyn had set up the table with large, easy-to-use needles and a basket of colorful yarn. The girls were obviously excited by the prospect of learning to knit and the boys had that “anywhere but here” look in their eyes.

  “Any questions?” Robyn asked.

  No one said anything.

  “Great.” She heard the front door open and glanced up, then grinned. “Sometimes learning a new skill is easier when you have a mentor or coach to help. I’ve asked a few people who have already mastered the art of knitting to join us.”

  Five guys from the high school football team and members of T.J.’s class walked over.

  “Whassup?” the tallest of the players asked.

  The boys at the table nearly fell off their chairs.

  “You knit?” one boy asked, then pushed up his glasses. “For real?”

  Inviting the players had been Adeline’s idea. Robyn had called the high school and spoken with the football coach. He’d been happy to lend her the players for the afternoon.

  The older guys pulled up chairs and squeezed in between the younger kids. Soon everyone was holding needles and slowly casting on.

  Marion joined them, going from student to student, offering advice. Robyn did the same, pleased to hear laughter and excited conversation instead of groans.