The Knitting Diaries

by Debbie Macomber

  The odd, crushing weight was growing worse.

  “Lieutenant, we’ve got at least twenty men moving in from the east.”

  “ETA?”

  “Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. That appears to be a major weapons cache that they’re protecting up here.”

  Gage swept the ridge with his night goggles. His orders were to secure any weapons against use by insurgent forces, and he had to act fast, before the full band returned to their mountain camp.

  He raised a hand, gesturing to his point man. Silently the squads moved forward into the night. They were crossing the top of the ridge, with the weapons cases in clear sight, when the ground shook and the first earthquake hit.

  Ten

  After a stop at his house, Peter insisted on escorting the women back home. Caro rode in his car with Bogie and Bacall, who were awake and strangely restless now. One minute they would press against Caro’s lap, and the next they would turn to the window, staring out intently into the darkness.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said softly. “Both of them are acting strange.”

  “It’s our job to make them comfortable.” The vet turned into the driveway that wound up to Caro’s house, then reached back to stroke Bogart’s neck. “I’d better go inside with your grandmother and be sure everything is okay. Will you be good out here for a couple of minutes?”

  “Of course.” Caro held Gage’s cat in one arm while Peter walked around to meet her grandmother. Bogart raced ahead of them, then stopped. Suddenly the dog turned away, facing the ocean, growling low in his throat.

  Caro rolled down her window. “What’s wrong?”

  Peter shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t see anything here.” The vet reached down for Bogart’s collar, but the dog refused to budge, his ears angled forward.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t think to tell you before, Caro. About an hour ago I heard something about insurgent forces on the move in Afghanistan. The television said there were clashes predicted near the border. I think we should check for updates.” Peter frowned, tugging gently at the big dog’s collar. “Come on, boy. There’s nothing out there.”

  Across the grass Morgan took a quick breath. “What kind of clashes?”

  “They didn’t say. No details available.”

  Gage.

  Suddenly cold with worry, Caro held the cat tighter. She saw Bogart strain forward, breaking free of Peter’s hold. The big dog banged against the vet’s legs, knocked the man sideways, then bolted across the driveway.

  Small claws dug at Caro’s arms.

  A second later Gage’s cat tore from her grip and leaped through the open car window, following Bogart off into the darkness.

  “I couldn’t react fast enough. I’m still too slow, too clumsy. All I got was a handful of cat fur.” Caro was breathing hard, her head out the window as Peter steered his SUV slowly through the darkness. “I think they were heading up toward the meadow. After that I lost sight of them.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find them. Something’s got them stirred up, that’s all. Maybe coyotes or an owl.”

  Caro knew coyotes and owls could snatch a small animal like Bacall in seconds. Even the retriever might have to put up a fight against a dozen coyotes working together. “Can’t you hurry, Dr. Lindstrom? We have to find them.”

  “I’m driving as fast as is safe, my dear. You know how quickly that big turn comes up on the ridge road. And I don’t want to—”

  His head angled forward. “There. Did you see that flash of light fur, up the hill to the right?”

  Caro had seen it. She could have sworn it was the white cat, scrambling up the overgrown slope. Without a thought she unlocked her door, a flashlight gripped in her hand. “Stop, Dr. Lindstrom. I’m going after them.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort. I’ll park and come with you.” The big wheels had barely come to a halt when Caro was running across the damp grass, heading toward the hillside. She saw another flash of white under a tree where the forest began. The growth was dense here, if she remembered correctly. And the slope stopped abruptly at a big ridge overlooking the coast.

  Her heart began to pound. “We have to hurry.” Her voice broke. “We can’t let them get away.”

  Peter aimed his light across the ground in front of her. She lost her footing in the wet bushes and fell sideways, biting back a cry of pain as she landed on her right forearm. But she didn’t stop, didn’t even brush the dirt off her hands and face as she ran headlong up the hill, focused on the spot where she had last seen Bacall.

  If only she had been faster. If only she had all her strength and her muscle control back, she could have caught the cat. And with Bacall in her arms, the dog might have returned freely.

  If only.

  If only.

  Another flash of movement. Caro caught sight of a second shape. At least Bogie and Bacall were together. They would be safer that way.

  As the moon broke from behind tattered clouds, she had a sudden glimpse of trees at the top of the ridge. On the far side of the slope, gray boulders gave way abruptly to cliffs above the interstate. Beyond that lay the sea.

  Suddenly the clouds parted. Light bathed the trees and Caro saw two animals poised at the very top of the ridge. The big retriever was frozen with tension, staring down at the distant line of the interstate.

  Caro had a strange flash of understanding. This had been the way that Gage had left Summer Island. The anxious dog had tracked Gage’s faint scent, trying desperately to find him.

  Ignoring the ache at her hands where she had fallen, she moved quietly through the high grass and sank down beside Bogart. She opened her hand on the dog’s head, trying to offer a measure of comfort, which she needed just as much as Gage’s animals did.

  “It’s okay, honey. We’ll get him back. He’s going to make it home fine. And so are we. That’s not a promise, that’s an order.” Her voice broke as Gage’s cat let out a restless cry and then turned, crawling into her lap.

  Wind roared up from the sea, tearing at Caro’s face. But they were together now. Caro would fight and defend them, the same way Gage was fighting and defending far away.

  Be careful, my love.

  The words seemed to well up from deep inside her, drawn from emotions that were still too new to name or recognize. She felt Bogie’s body strain against her as he pushed at her hand, trying to move closer to the cliff, but she held him firm, speaking quiet words of reassurance. At last the dog seemed to relax.

  He lay down beside Caro, his head across her knee next to Bacall, with the cold wind riffling his thick fur. And that was the way Peter Lindstrom found them a few moments later as he strode up through the trees.

  Eleven

  The television was filled with news of earthquakes and growing violence in Afghanistan. Caro kept a constant vigil over the next forty-eight hours, manning the news broadcasts while she listened for any emails from Gage. But nothing came.

  To distract herself, Caro went to Peter’s house to spend extra time with Gage’s pets and then she did a double set of hand exercises. When nothing else could calm her, she curled up in a big wing chair overlooking the ocean and sketched from memory.

  First she captured Bogart, jumping for Gage’s Frisbee. Next came Bacall, golden in a bar of afternoon sunlight, rolling onto her back with her paws in the air as she slept.

  Finally Caro sketched the dark image of the two pets huddled on the edge of the cliff, staring down at the road where Gage had left Summer Island.

  “That last one is good, Caro. Actually, it’s beyond good. I think I may have a buyer for it, if you’re interested. She collects animal pieces for her gallery up in Seattle.”

  “No, Gran. This one’s not for sale. None of them are.” Caro didn’t add that these designs would be for Gage when he came home. Not if but when, she thought fiercely. She’d give them to him along with the knitting she’d been working on for him every day.

  She put down her pencil and stretched
her cramped muscles. “Have there been any updates from Afghanistan?”

  “Nothing concrete. There’s something big going on, that much is clear. But no one has any details—or if they do they’re not broadcasting them over public news channels. For obvious reasons.” Caro’s grandmother hesitated. “I might as well tell you. I put in a call to an old friend in Washington and asked if he could help find out about Gage’s situation. With his connections, I think we may have an answer soon.”

  Morgan turned as the phone rang in the kitchen. “That’s probably Peter. He was worried about us.”

  When Morgan came back, her face wore a dogged expression. “Let me look at your hands.”

  “Why? I’m fine, Gran. There were only a few scratches after I tripped in the mud. Maybe one or two bruises.”

  “Since you’re doing fine, you won’t mind me having a look.” Before Caro could move back, Morgan gently pulled up the sleeves of Caro’s robe.

  The wild chase to recover Gage’s pets had left faint bruises and jagged welts when she had fallen. Peter had bandaged them for her, but Caro had been too worried to pay attention since then.

  Sighing irritably, Morgan McNeal took a medicine kit from the counter. “Fine, do you call it?” Shaking her head, Caro’s grandmother began to apply a salve that Peter had given them.

  “Is that veterinary salve that Peter gave me, Gran?”

  “Yes, it is. Peter swears by this stuff. And if it’s good enough for million-dollar racehorses cut during a training session, it should be good enough for you. Though frankly, I doubt any horse is as difficult a patient as you are.”

  They continued to grumble and bicker as Morgan tended to Caro’s arm. It was easier that way. Grumbling helped them forget their growing worry about Gage and his men.

  When the phone rang, Caro ran to answer. A stranger’s voice echoed through faint static. “Is this Ms. McNeal? Caro McNeal?”

  “Yes. I’m Caro. Who is this?”

  There was a pause. Papers rustled. “I’m a friend. I know that you are looking for news about Lieutenant Grayson, Ms. McNeal.”

  Caro felt her heart pound. “Yes?” she whispered. “Gage—is he okay?”

  “There’s not a great deal I can tell you right now. The details are classified. I can tell you that he was involved in hostile action.”

  “Please tell me how he is. I have to know.”

  The man made an irritated sound. “It isn’t good over there. Communications are in disarray. The earthquake has left some areas in rubble.” Caro heard a chair creak. “I can’t give you any more details.”

  “What are you trying to tell me? Is Gage hurt? Is he—” Caro’s hand closed into a fist. No. She refused to consider the darkest of possibilities.

  “What I am trying to tell you, Ms. McNeal, is that things are…in flux. Now that I have your direct number, I’ll update you as much as possible,” the man said grimly. “And I don’t think I need to tell you that this conversation is highly confidential. Use utmost discretion in sharing what I have told you. Definitely not with members of the press.”

  “I understand. I’ll be here. Please call me at this number anytime, whenever you have news. And thank you—thank you for telling me whatever you can.”

  Before Caro could ask anything else, the line went dead.

  Caro kept her cell phone beside her at all times now. She carried it in her pocket when she took Bacall and Bogart outdoors. She had it beside her when she took her physical therapy. It sat on the sink when she showered. If anyone else called her, Caro cut off the call immediately. Meanwhile, Peter and Morgan helped her screen the news channels, watching for updates.

  On the third day after her mystery call, her cell phone rang just as she was settling into sleep.

  “H-hello? Yes?”

  “Ms. McNeal. I have some news.”

  Caro struggled upright, hugging her pillow to her chest. Her heart was pounding so loud she heard it above the sound of his voice.

  It was him. Her mystery caller.

  “Yes. I’m—here.”

  “Your lieutenant is alive.”

  Caro felt her breath whoosh out in a wave. Her hands clutched at the pillow and she swallowed hard. “Thank you so much,” she managed to rasp. “What can I do to help? Tell me. Anything.”

  A chair creaked, just like before. Caro heard someone talking in the background. Then the talking stopped. “Well, I do have an idea, Ms. McNeal. It’s rather unusual. But perhaps we live in unusual times. How soon can you get ready to travel?”

  She started to ask who and where and what for. Then Caro cut off the questions. None of that mattered. Not one single thing. Whatever, wherever, she would go.

  “Right now. Ten minutes. I’ve had a travel bag packed ever since you called. I’ve been waiting—hoping for news.”

  The man chuckled. “Smart one, aren’t you? He told me that about you.” Caro heard papers rustling. “Do you still have those two animals with you? Lieutenant Grayson’s pets?”

  Caro had expected any question but this one. “Yes. They’re with our local vet, but he’s just across town. It’s very close.”

  “Okay.” Papers rustled again. More voices came and then faded. “Well, then, you’re on. Here’s what I want you to do, Ms. McNeal.” The man’s voice took on an edge of authority, the sound of someone accustomed to a command position. “You’ll need to move quickly, so get yourself a pen and take some notes. Give my regards to your grandmother, too, if you will. We were in college together.” He laughed dryly. “About two centuries ago. I was the one in the yellow sweater. She’ll remember. Now—do you have that pen ready?”

  “Yes.” Caro’s head was spinning as she grabbed a notebook. “I’m ready.”

  “Good. First go and get Lieutenant Grayson’s animals. Then here’s who you need to call.”

  Twelve

  “What do you mean, go for a trip? Go where? Caro, are you feeling okay? I know you’re worried about Gage, but—”

  “Gran, I can’t explain. I just need to go now. Right now.” Caro tossed an extra sweater into her suitcase, then zipped it shut. “I can’t answer any questions. I’m sorry, Gran. I need you to trust me.”

  “Of course I trust you, honey. But why—” Morgan’s eyes narrowed as she saw Caro carefully check the recent calls on her cell phone. “Someone called you a few minutes ago. You’re going because of that, aren’t you? Because of something you found out?”

  “I—” Caro ran a hand over her eyes. “I can’t tell you anything, Gran. That was part of the deal. But he did say to give you his regards.”

  “He?”

  “The man who called me said he knew you in college. He said to tell you he was the one with the yellow sweater.”

  Morgan gave a soft laugh. “It’s been years, but that boy was always a mover and a shaker. He had quite a little crush on me, too, back then. Not to brag.” Morgan squared her shoulders. “If Harris is involved, everything will be fine. I’m going to get packed. I’ll be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”

  Caro picked up her bag and shook her head. Her grandmother’s past was colorful and Caro knew only a small part of it. Clearly Harris, the mystery man, was an important person. Caro wondered what their true connection was.

  She would have long hours to ponder that question. Her driving instructions had been very clear. “Sorry, but you can’t come, Gran. I’m taking Gage’s pets with me. It’s part of the deal.”

  “You’re driving?” Morgan crossed her arms, looking worried.

  “That’s what he told me to do.”

  “Then I’ll fly and meet you there,” Morgan said firmly. “Just where are we going?”

  Within half an hour Gage’s pets were stowed safely and Caro was on the road. Despite her protests, Peter had insisted on following Caro to the state line. After that he was going to drive Morgan to the airport.

  Bogart and Bacall knew something important was happening. Once they were inside the car, the big dog kept moving betwe
en the seats, licking Caro energetically and whining. Bacall meowed for ten minutes, then curled up on Gage’s old T-shirt and went to sleep.

  They crossed the mountains and headed south. Caro gave a prayer of thanks that her last cast had finally been removed. After a fair amount of arguing, Peter waved goodbye to her at the Oregon state line, and she drove on into the darkness.

  As the miles flowed past, Caro felt her life hurtling forward, taking new shapes that couldn’t be seen clearly yet. But she felt fearless now, welcoming each change, full of joy and a certainty that Gage would be part of that future.

  Southern California

  Caro had never seen anything as wonderful as the sunlight gleaming off the Pacific near San Diego. She was restless and full of energy after too many cups of coffee as she studied the tile roofs and palm trees of Balboa Park.

  San Diego.

  This was the place.

  Caro pulled out her cell phone and the name of her contact. She scratched Bogart’s head and laughed as the dog tried to wedge his body between her and the side window. “Calm down, honey. We’re almost there. You’ve been a real trooper, and our trip is nearly over.”

  Her heart hammered. “Let’s get ready to see Gage.”

  Caro took several hours to rest and shower at a hotel near the freeway. Then she gave Bogart a good run and dressed carefully. Suddenly nervous, she paced in front of the mirror.

  Was her sweater too tight? Or was it tight enough? And her hair—more tousled? Or less?

  She wanted to look nice—but a little sexy. Okay, a lot sexy. Gage had seen her last with a cast. Not very pretty.

  Half an hour later Caro’s grandmother arrived from the airport, and after a quick hug, she nodded approval at Caro’s choice of clothes.