Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3

by Laurie Larsen

  Rita extended her hand and Leslie saw a business card tucked between her index and middle fingers. “Keep in touch. My phone number and email address are on there.”

  Leslie grinned. “It won’t be so hard to leave knowing we’ll talk again soon.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Rita. The hug was warm. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Thank you. And have a safe trip.”

  Leslie drove down the long driveway, waving out the window till she could no longer see the big homey house in the rearview mirror. She wondered what Day 2 would bring.

  Chapter Four

  As Leslie drove, the sun grew bigger and brighter in the sky. Her left arm, resting on the ledge of her open window, tingled. It was going to be a hot one, but that was all right. She had always loved summer. Hot weather was her friend. She made her way onto a big highway, I-77 South. Eventually reaching the ocean meant going east and south. This road was as good as any.

  About an hour into the drive, her cell phone rang. She pushed the speaker option and tossed it back onto the passenger seat. “Hello?”

  “Mom!”

  “Sweetheart!” A wave of joy exploded through her, starting in her heart and putting a huge smile on her face. “How’s Paris?”

  “Oh, my gosh, Mom, it’s incredible.” Jasmine launched into a ten-minute monologue of the people she was meeting, the work she was doing, the sights she was seeing. Leslie grinned at the excitement in her voice.

  “Well, you’re having a summer of a lifetime, darling. Enjoy every minute.”

  “I am, believe me. And how about you? Where are you, by the way?”

  “Ummm.” Leslie glanced around for a hint of her location. Beautiful green mountains decorated the landscape. “The Appalachian Mountains.”

  Jasmine laughed. “That covers a broad range, Mom. Are you getting along okay on your crazy, carefree road trip?”

  Leslie smiled. “I’m getting along like a champ. Don’t worry about me. Eventually I’m going to make my way to the ocean, but for now, I’m heading south through Virginia. I’ve met some very memorable people already.”

  Leslie told Jasmine about meeting Norman and Deakon Foster, and Joan Lundeen, Deakon’s grandmother. Then she described her evening with Nathan and Rita. She chatted happily and when she’d finished, Jasmine said, “Wow Mom, that’s quite a trip already. You sound so happy and content.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yeah, and I have to tell you, I’m glad to hear it. I was worried about leaving you this summer. I thought you’d be depressed because of the divorce and all.”

  “Sure. The whole reason I took this trip was because the long, empty summer was stretching out in front of me, looking miserable. Teachers always associate summer with freedom and fun, and this summer was looking like anything but. Now, I’m having some fun and getting out of my comfort zone at the same time.”

  “God always knows what we need, right Mom?”

  Leslie smiled. It was one of those childhood phrases she’d repeated as a mantra to her daughter whenever things got rough. Why had it taken Jaz repeating it now for her to remember this nugget?

  “You’re right Jaz, He sure does.”

  Jasmine wrapped up the conversation because she was due to run an errand for her designer boss. Leslie disconnected the call, but kept the happiness in her heart.

  Early in the afternoon, she passed signs for Charlotte, North Carolina. She was about ready for some lunch, and maybe Charlotte would offer something of interest to pass the time today. She followed the signs into the city and looked around. On her right was a charming park that reminded her of an old-fashioned town square. Sidewalks crisscrossed through a patch of grass about a city block in diameter. Stone benches sat randomly by, providing a leisurely resting spot.

  After her large breakfast with Rita, a simple cold cut sandwich sounded great, and the chance to sit in the park and soak in some early summer sunshine sounded even better. She drove a block or two and noticed a grocery store. Pulling into the lot, she headed to the store’s deli and joined a short line of customers. She peeked around the older woman in front of her to check out her selections.

  “May I help you?”

  The woman in front of her moved forward and began placing her order. “The honey ham there, yes. Two pounds. The roasted turkey. No, that one’s on sale, isn’t it? Two pounds. The smoked roast beef, two pounds of that also.”

  Leslie’s stomach let out an unbidden growl. The woman ordering turned. “Sorry about that. Sounds like my stomach wants to go wherever you’re taking all that delicious food.”

  “Well, let your stomach, and the rest of you know you’re welcome.”

  Leslie smiled and shook her head. She continued to wait while the woman ordered a variety of cheeses, potato salad and cole slaw. It sounded like a feast.

  When the deli worker gave the total amount, the older woman pulled out an envelope and started counting bills.

  “The ladies working this morning, Evelyn?”

  The woman finished shuffling through the bills and handed over a stack. “We sure are. We’re on deadline now, and there’s no time to waste. Full stomachs will keep those sticks flying.”

  Sticks? What was this lady organizing? She couldn’t imagine. She peered at the older woman, who seemed friendly enough. She decided to ask. “I’m sorry to be nosy, but I have to ask: what work are you leading that involves ladies throwing sticks in the air?”

  Evelyn let out a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s what it sounded like, didn’t it? No, they’re not throwing sticks in the air, but the sticks are flying nonetheless.” She leaned over her grocery cart, moving around the various elements of her feast. “But I tell you what, if you want to satisfy your curiosity, why don’t you follow me and see for yourself? You’ll get your answer, and you’ll also get a nice hearty lunch. Eh?”

  Leslie shook her head. “Actually, I don’t live in the area. I’m on a trip and only stopped for some lunch.”

  “All the better! You’ll have a good lunch to set you on your way.”

  The woman stopped poking around in her cart and looked up at Leslie with a beaming smile. She reached maybe to Leslie’s chin, and her face boasted lines sure to have been formed from a lifetime of smiling. She had a headful of bright graying hair, fashionably styled and a fresh manicure on slightly arthritic fingers. “I could use your help getting this stuff delivered anyway.”

  Leslie smiled. The woman exuded charm. “Well then, I’m at your service.”

  “Lovely!”

  Leslie pushed the cart outside and helped load the groceries into the trunk of Evelyn’s car. With a squeeze to Leslie’s forearm, she leaned close. “God bless you, young lady.” Leslie chuckled. When was the last time she’d been called a young lady? Youth was relative, she guessed.

  Walking to her car, her smile lingered, remembering Evelyn’s choice of words, and not just the ‘young lady’ part. She had felt blessed these last few days. God had led her to meet people and contribute. He’d used her unique skillset to help others. If she could continue to keep her heart open to God’s direction, what else could she do?

  Leslie steered her SUV through the parking lot and followed Evelyn’s sedan onto the street. Her heart raced with the uncertainty of the moment. She not only didn’t know where she was going, but who she was going with, or why. She sent a quick silent prayer heavenward, “God, keep me safe and use me to do your will, today and always,” and felt like she must have her bases covered. After a few turns, she drove into a church parking lot and let out a laugh. She rolled her eyes up to the sky and shook her head. “Wow, a church. How could I guess?”

  After parking, she hurried over to Evelyn’s car and helped her carry the bulging grocery bags inside. Evelyn, hoisting several of them, strolled down a main hallway and ducked into a small kitchenette.

  “Here you go, lay everything on this counter.” Evelyn was slightly winded but got right to work, pulling groceries out of bags.

&nb
sp; The women worked side by side and when they were done, they had lunch meat and cheeses spread out on round plastic trays, bread in a straw basket and salads in bowls. Evelyn’s eyes twinkled along with her grin. “Thank you for your help, uh, …? Mercy me, I never introduced myself! I’m Evelyn Fletcher. Lived here my whole life, and been a member of Cross Pointe Church since I was a teen.”

  Leslie squeezed her hand. “Nice to meet you, Evelyn. I’m Leslie Malone from Pittsburgh and I’m glad I was in the right place today to meet you and give you a hand.” She lingered in the warmth of Evelyn’s gaze. “Now, are you going to reveal the mystery? Who is all this delicious food for, and what are they all doing here on a weekday afternoon?”

  Evelyn laughed. “Come with me and find out.”

  They grabbed as much as they could carry and Leslie followed Evelyn to a room off the main hallway, across from the office. The room doubled as a library, boasting shelves of books on three walls, floor to ceiling. Tables stood back to back in a square, seating at least twenty women, all busy with sticks and yarn … knitting.

  “A knitting group!” Leslie exclaimed. “That’s what you meant by sticks flying. I won’t tell you where my imagination went with that one.”

  They returned to the kitchen, picked up the remaining food and delivered it to the knitting room. Evelyn clapped her hands. “Attention, ladies! Attention, everyone. I have two announcements. First, your lunch is here. You’ve all worked so hard this morning, and your donations have bought us all a delicious meal. So, please feel free to take a break to eat.

  “Secondly, we have a new friend. Leslie is here visiting from Pittsburgh and she kindly reached out a helping hand to an old lady at the grocery store. So I invited her to stay for lunch.”

  A wave of elderly voices flowed to her with audible wishes of welcome. Leslie waved. As the ladies got up and moved to the makeshift buffet line, several patted her shoulder and started a short conversation.

  “So what are you knitting? Are you working on a group project?”

  “Oh my, yes. We’ve joined in a partnership with Levine Children’s Hospital here in Charlotte. We provide a hand-knit blanket for each newborn, and the parents take it home with them when they leave. Pink ones and blue ones, of course. We’ve done that for several years and it’s a delightful project. So nice knowing our knitted blankets go to good use, starting a new baby out right.”

  Leslie scanned the ladies in the room, some stopping for lunch, others continuing their knitting of beautiful pink and blue blankets. Her gaze rested on one lady in the corner using not two long, straight knitting needles, but four. “What’s that lady making, Evelyn? That doesn’t look like a blanket.”

  Evelyn followed the direction of her gaze. “Oh yes, Carla’s working on our new project, starting this month. The hospital asked us if we could start providing knitted baby caps for the preemies born each month. A nice warm cap helps their temperature control. So I asked the ladies if they wanted to take on this additional request. We prayed about it, and felt we could.”

  Leslie smiled. Carla was probably half done with her preemie cap and looked like she didn’t want to stop for nourishment. “That cap pattern looks pretty intricate. Is it hard?”

  Evelyn put an arm on her shoulder and guided her in Carla’s direction. “Are you a knitter yourself?”

  Leslie shrugged. “Not in years. I’m a teacher so I’m always on the lookout for fun things to do and learn in the summer months. I took a weekly knitting class one summer at a craft shop near my house. But that must’ve been, oh, ten years ago?”

  They reached Carla’s chair. Evelyn pointed to a couple sheets of paper with printed instructions and a color photo of a cap, setting on the table in front of her. The pattern title was ‘All Around the Square Hat.’ “Can we take a peek at that?”

  Carla glanced up and shook her head. “I’m working.”

  Evelyn nodded. “But sweetie, you need to give yourself a break. You’ve been at this for five hours straight.” Evelyn motioned to Leslie to take a look at a short stack of pink caps on the table.

  “You made all of these today? I’m impressed.”

  At the unrecognized voice, Carla dragged her attention off her cap creation and looked over her shoulder, her hands still knitting away, using the four needles in a square. “Yes, well, if you get in a rhythm, you can whip these things out. I average one per hour. Without breaks.”

  Evelyn reached over Carla’s shoulder and commandeered the half-made cap, tugging it out of Carla’s hands. “Stop for a sandwich and a drink.” The firmness in her voice had Carla hesitating, running her gaze over Evelyn’s hands, then sighing.

  “All right. A quick one. Then back at it. Those are due tonight, you know. I promised.”

  Evelyn squeezed her shoulder with her free hand. “I know, sweetie, and you won’t let them down. You never do.”

  Carla nodded and rose, stretching her spine as she shambled over to the food table. As she did, Leslie noticed something else sitting on the table beside the pattern. She picked up a color print of a tiny baby in an incubator, wires and tubes connected in multiple places around the scrawny body, a pink knitted preemie cap on her head. Leslie studied the photo, an overwhelming sense of sadness filling her heart, bringing the sting of tears to her eyes. She blinked and looked over to Evelyn.

  “Her inspiration. Her granddaughter, Anna Rose. This is why we agreed to do the preemie caps for Levine.”

  Leslie peered closer at the picture. In the shady background she could make out a woman sitting beside the incubator, separated from the precious baby by the thick plastic wall. But a hand rested on the barrier, as if the little life inside could sense her presence, cheering her on, praying for her safety and recovery. She pointed to the hand, although the upper body and head had not made it into the picture. “Is that Carla there?”

  Evelyn nodded, a grim set to her lips. “Yes, she never left that baby’s side. Carla’s daughter, the mama, was sick for the first few days, and needed bed rest herself. Carla took it upon herself to make sure Anna Rose had a family member present day and night, every minute. She about made herself sick as well.”

  Leslie stared at the flushed pink skin, the tiny features of the baby. It nearly broke her heart to ask the question. “Did she …?” She turned to Evelyn, scanned her eyes. “Did she make it?”

  Evelyn shook her head, her face taut with the incomparable trauma of the loss of a child. Leslie heaved a deep breath in her chest, let it out, and said a silent prayer for Anna Rose, now a tiny angel, and her family who loved her, who she left behind.

  “This was taken about two months ago. Carla came up with the idea of the cap project for the hospital, and brought it to our knitting group. Of course, we couldn’t say no.”

  Leslie glanced over to the food table where Carla held a plate and was constructing a sandwich. “She sure is dedicated.”

  “Almost too much so. It’s great to have a project to throw yourself into after a loss. But you can see what she’s like. It’s almost like she has to singlehandedly make every cap herself. But it’s impossible. The need is too great.”

  Leslie set the picture down. “I can’t imagine.”

  “The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Levines is the best in the area, maybe the state. They have something like eighty five beds, and treat nearly a thousand babies a year.”

  “And your group knits blankets and caps for all of them?”

  Evelyn chuckled. “Not all of them. I imagine there are several knitting groups that make up the total. But we commit to a dozen blankets a month and a dozen caps. For a group our size, that’s a lot of knitting.” Evelyn motioned across the room. “Time for us to have some nourishment. But first, a question for you: would you like to take those ten-year-old knitting skills, dust them off and make something for a premature baby to use?”

  A case of nerves stabbed her heart. “Oh gosh, I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s been too long.
You all are on a tight deadline. No one has time to tutor me and teach me how to do this again. It’s not a good time.”

  They made their way around the tables. Evelyn said, “No time like the present. How about starting with a cap? It should only take a couple hours for a beginning knitter. And imagine the goodness you’ll feel when you pack it in with all the rest of them.”

  Leslie considered. “We’ll see.”

  Later, after a belly-filling lunch, Evelyn gathered the supplies Leslie would need to produce a preemie cap: a printed pattern, the needles, a pencil, scissors. “Pink or blue?”

  Leslie shook her head. She hadn’t actually agreed to making a cap, but what the heck? If it came out horribly, she could always unravel it. “Give me blue.”

  Evelyn’s smile beamed and she grabbed a skein of baby blue wool. “I’ll join you.” With supplies in hand, Evelyn led Leslie to a few empty seats at Carla’s table. Carla looked up. She was settling back in after her own lunch. “You got company, Carla. The cap-makers.”

  Carla smiled. “Great. I’d like to have three more done by five.”

  “Put each of us in for one. Carla, meet Leslie.”

  The two women murmured their greetings and got down to the business of knitting. Leslie picked up the yarn. Its softness sent a familiar rush of pleasure through her. She pulled the pattern closer. There had to be a way to get the wool on the four needles and get it started, but it had been too long since she’d knitted to know the specifics. She didn’t have the first clue. The pattern instructed, “Ten (10) stitches using a long tail cast on.” Yeah, right.

  “Um…” she looked up and found Evelyn smiling at her.

  “Give them to me and I’ll cast you on.”

  Leslie nodded. The term was familiar but she had no memory of how to do it. Evelyn reached out and Leslie put the wonderful blue wool in her hand. Evelyn pulled out a strand till it was the length of her arm, and looped the yarn onto the needles. She knit the ten stitches and when the cap was ready to begin, she handed it back.