“Okay, thanks.” It was a starting point, but where to go next? Leslie studied the pattern again. Terms floated out to her, once part of her vocabulary – purl stitch, knit stitch, bind-off.
“The good thing about us both following the same pattern at the same table, is I can mentor you while I go. Watch what I do, and I’ll explain it as I go along. And if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. Think of the precious tiny baby who is going to wear your creation, and it’ll be fuel to keep you going.”
Evelyn’s pep talk did the trick. There was no need to feel frustrated or overwhelmed. These women were all there for the same purpose, helping newborn babies stay warm and feel loved. Leslie could help, even if her skills weren’t current. Eventually she’d knitted enough stitches to have all four needles involved, knitted yarn on each, in a square. She moved from one needle to the next as the pattern called for, moved on to what could probably pass as a purl stitch and heard Evelyn’s encouragement, “That’s the way.”
Twenty minutes into the adventure, Leslie found that certain basics about knitting were coming back to her, and she remembered why she enjoyed this hobby, a decade past. Although she needed to concentrate, eventually she could chat with Carla or Evelyn. If she made a mistake, she unraveled the last few stitches.
Late afternoon, the ladies were beginning to wrap up. Conversational noises increased as they put the finishing touches on their projects, rolled up the remaining wool and began packing their tools away into bags. Evelyn got up and made her way through the crowded room. Another lady moved to the corner of the room and positioned herself next to a large silver bell, a string hanging down beneath the clapper.
Evelyn located the first of the completed blankets, gathered it in her arms and yelled, “One!” The bell tolled. All the ladies cheered, and the creator of the first blanket beamed her delight. On Evelyn went to the next table and another finished blanket was added to her arms. “Two!” More bell-tolling, more cheering.
Leslie laughed, enjoying the obvious joy and pleasure of everyone in the room. The ladies were exuberant in camaraderie, togetherness and productivity. They had used their talents to create useful, wonderful, hand-made treasures, with the certainty that they would be put to use very soon by a group of precious babies in need of warmth and comfort. Knowing this would be enough, but the ladies piled on the celebration with a monthly ceremony of bell-ringing and cheering. The joy in the room was palpable and Leslie wished she’d be around a month from now for the next gathering.
Moments later, Evelyn held such a large stack of blankets, her face was barely visible over the top. “Ten!” “Eleven!” There was a collective holding of breath by almost every woman in the room. The goal was twelve. Would they meet it?
“We have eleven blankets, friends. Is one more done?” Every head swiveled silently, searching for the last blanket to donate. Leslie’s heart dropped. They couldn’t be one short. This group deserved the victory of donating exactly their committed number. They’d worked so hard.
One woman held a pink blanket up in the air. “It’s not quite done, but I’ll work on it tonight and deliver it in the morning.”
Applause broke out around the room. It wasn’t quite perfect, but then again, nothing in life ever was. Those premature babies who hung onto life at Levine Children’s Hospital weren’t starting life with perfection. And yet, everyone working together did their best to give their shaky lives a fighting start.
“Thank you, Ruth. That will be perfect,” Evelyn said. “Now, Carla? Would you gather the caps, please?”
Carla stood and picked up her stack of caps in front of her. “Seven!”
The ladies laughed and clapped as the bell ringer counted out seven chimes of the bell. Carla smiled as she waited. Then, she picked up Evelyn’s single blue cap and piled it on. “Eight.” Then Carla reached for Leslie’s cap.
Leslie reached out and grabbed her hand, a flood of nervousness attacking her heart. “Let’s wait and see how many we get. This one isn’t exactly right. If I have more time, I’d like to work on it a little more.”
Carla nodded and moved to the next table. Leslie saw Evelyn gaze at them from across the room, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.
By the time Carla made her way through the room, she’d collected fourteen caps. Chairs pushed back from tables made whooshing sounds on the carpeted floor as women stood and stretched their backs and fingers after a sedentary day of creation.
Leslie gathered her things and hastily stuffed the blue cap into her purse. They had more than met their cap goal without her raggedy one. Although it wasn’t needed for the hospital donation, Leslie was glad she did it. It brought back a pleasure she’d previously developed for knitting. Maybe she’d do some more of it when she reached her destination at the beach.
She made her way over to Evelyn. “Thank you so much for pulling me in today. I never thought I could knit anything after ten years away, but it was fun.”
Evelyn put an arm on her shoulder. “You want to feel really good? Come with Carla and me to the hospital to do the delivery.”
Leslie didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”
They headed for Evelyn’s car and traveled the short distance to the hospital. They parked in a garage and loaded up their arms with knitted creations. They entered the main lobby and Leslie swooned at the beauty of the modern atrium. “This looks more like a children’s museum than a hospital.”
Evelyn and Carla grinned and continued on their way to the receptionist, but Leslie took a moment to savor the stunning sight. It was truly a room that would take a child’s sting out of a trip to the hospital. The open, sunny area was welcoming and fun, the furniture modern and clean. Tilting her head back, she soaked in the tall spaciousness. Stationary kites decorated the open air between the first and third floors. A huge net hung down, and sparkling glass tubes dangled from the knitted strands, catching the light and casting enchanted reflections on the floor.
Not wanting to miss out on the chance to deliver the blankets, Leslie tore herself away when Evelyn led the way to the elevators. The doors opened on the seventh floor to a traditional hospital ward, the walls painted a muted grayish blue. Leslie followed the others to a nurse’s station.
“There they are! We were looking forward to your visit today, ladies.”
A nurse dressed in scrubs held her arms out and the ladies piled the blankets on. Leslie followed suit with the caps.
“We’re one blanket short, but we brought extra caps,” Carla explained.
“The blanket will be delivered tomorrow, though,” said Evelyn.
The nurse nodded, her head barely visible in the midst of knitted cotton yarn. “We have a rash of babies being released today and tomorrow so we’ll need the blankets to send home with them. And unfortunately we have about a dozen new babies born and admitted into the NICU, so the caps will help keep the tiny angels warm while they’re here.”
The nurse headed down a hallway and directly into a large nursery full of babies, each in their own tiny crib marked with their name and identifying information. Leslie stood with Evelyn and Carla on the outside of a wall-to-floor glass window, watching as the nurse placed a new blanket inside each crib, either under the infant, to the side or covering the baby. Then she covered each baby’s head with a cap from the church ladies’ stash. Leslie could tell from the nurse’s sureness of hand, she was an experienced professional, and those precious children were in good hands at Levine.
A quiet sniff to her left made Leslie turn her head. Carla watched the distribution of the caps and blankets with tears streaming down her cheeks. Compassion for the woman made Leslie move closer and put an arm around her. “This must be so difficult for you to watch.”
Carla nodded, her mouth set in grim determination. “My beautiful Anna Rose couldn’t be saved. But I do my best to make sure other families don’t have to experience the same loss we did. In my small way, this is what God says I can do.” She turned and gazed at Leslie. “So,
I do it.”
Leslie squeezed her tight and Carla gripped her hand. “We do what we can, don’t we?”
The nurse finished with the deliveries and joined the three of them in the hallway. “You have no idea how welcome these gifts are. You see that mother?”
They turned back to the window. A young woman sat in a chair beside an incubator. Inside was a tiny little baby, resembling Anna Rose in all manner of tubes and cords leaving its body. The mother’s hand was extended into the container, resting lightly on the baby’s clothed tummy.
“She had a terrible case of toxemia. She wasn’t even due for another two months, but her doctor was concerned that if they didn’t take the baby, she could die. So, they did a c-section, and the poor thing weighed only two pounds. Much of his bodily systems aren’t developed yet. It’s still touch and go for him.”
A hitch in Leslie’s throat made it hard to breathe. She bowed her head and said a silent prayer, “Please be with this young mother and her tiny baby. Please shelter them from further pain and disappointment, and lead them both to a life of health and recovery.”
“It’s a baby boy?” Evelyn asked.
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t have a cap,” Carla noticed.
The nurse nodded. “He’s so premature, it’s hard for him to be touched. Even a cap may cause him discomfort on his scalp. Do you see how Mom’s making a connection, very faintly on top of his onesie?”
Leslie saw. “Is it painful for him?”
“We’re not sure if it’s painful, or more tingly. It’s a condition that generally improves the more days he’s alive. As he gets older, we’ll be able to let Mom touch him directly skin to skin. Speaking of Mom, her time’s up. She’s only allowed in there for thirty minutes every two hours.” The nurse slipped into the nursery and patted the young woman on the shoulder. She jolted at the contact, her eyes sad as she looked up at the nurse and nodded. With a last furtive glance at her baby, she stood and turned away.
Leslie watched her walk down the hallway. “I’ll just be a moment,” she whispered to Evelyn.
She took off after the young mom. She turned into a vending machine room and Leslie followed her in. “Excuse me.”
The young mom turned to her. “Yes?”
Leslie dug in her purse and pulled out the cap, held it out to her. “Hi. I made this cap today, but I thought it wasn’t quite accomplished enough to donate. I haven’t knitted in years.”
“It’s beautiful, don’t be silly.”
“It’s not as perfect as the ones made by the expert knitters. But feel how soft it is.”
The woman gave a small smile and ran a hand over it, nodding at Leslie. “Wonderful.”
“I’d like you to keep it. Maybe wash it with Downy. Realize that it was made with love, and I want your boy to have it. What’s his name?”
“Carson.” The woman took the cap. “Thank you very much. That’s so sweet of you.”
“Please keep the faith. Carson’s going to make it. You will carry him out of here someday, even if you can’t imagine it now.”
The woman stilled and stared into Leslie’s eyes. She reached up and grabbed both Leslie’s hands in her own. “Thank you for saying that. I so needed to hear it.”
They stood without movement and then the woman dropped her hands, held up the hat and walked away.
When they returned to the church, Leslie got out of the back seat and circled around to the driver side window. She leaned in and thanked Evelyn again for a wonderful day. “You know, Carla said something I’ll always remember. God tells us what we can do to help. So we do it.”
Evelyn nodded.
“It’s a good way to lead our lives isn’t it, that simple theology.”
“It sure is. I’m glad God put you in the grocery store at the same moment he put me there. You enjoy the rest of your day, now, all right?”
Leslie turned on her engine and looked around. It was time to find a hotel for the night.
Chapter Five
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, a veritable gift from a God trying hard to bestow a most perfect day. Leslie rolled her suitcase to her car and tossed it into the hatch. Despite the choppiness of her trip – the stop and go and her flexibility to take her time – she was making progress. Her current location, Charlotte, NC was probably two-thirds of the way toward her destination. And she’d met some wonderful people and had some extraordinary adventures so far. But she was anxious to arrive.
Today. This was the day she’d get to the beach.
Hopping into the front seat, she pulled out her GPS and frowned at the display screen. How did it work? Tim always took care of the directions when they drove. He detested the GPS, always used the old-fashioned method of researching his route with the atlas. Well, he wasn’t here, and one of the very good things about that was, she could do things her way now. And she was just tech-savvy enough to figure out this little helpful gadget if she put her mind to it. She suspected they’d become good partners.
Now, first things first: where should she tell the GPS to go? The early morning became a still backdrop to summer sounds – a bird chirp in a nearby tree, a cicada hum, a bee buzzing outside her window. In the quietness, a memory emerged.
When she was a child, her family visited the same vacation spot at least eight years in a row. Her family members dotted across the US map, with cousins living in Tennessee, Ohio, California, Illinois. Difficult as it was to stay in touch in the era before convenient electronic gadgets, the adults of the families made an annual pledge to gather at the beach, spending memorable, happy days co-habitating a house in Pawleys Island, South Carolina.
Some families could stay a week, some two. Some came later, some overlapped by only a few days. But for eight glorious summers as a child, Leslie was one member of a large clan who didn’t watch the clock, didn’t set the alarm, had very few rules. Four or five moms, dads, a grandparent or two, and an army of kids all connected through DNA, got reacquainted after twelve months apart, on the shore of the most beautiful ocean nature offered in the world: the Atlantic.
Somehow by fate, the adults of the family located a house that accommodated this crazy, come-as-you-are vacation. A large gray wooden plank house sitting on stilts over a sandy-floored garage, the back covered porch overlooking its own little slice of beach and ocean. Out the front door and across a narrow gravel road, a long wooden fishing dock led out over a saltwater creek where the patient cousin could hold a fishing pole or a crabbing string with bait, hoping to score a catch to hand off to the moms to transform in the kitchen into something tasty. The house, christened “The Old Gray Barn” was homey but not luxurious, not in the least. Wooden floors with space between the slats to sweep the sand through, left there by children’s feet fresh from the beach. A cramped but functional kitchen, a dining area and spacious open living room with a multitude of couches shared the first floor with two or three bedrooms. Up the short flight of stairs were two dormitory-style bedrooms containing eight or so beds apiece. The kids quickly deemed one the girls’ room and the other, the boys’.
Leslie smiled at the memories of those long-ago vacations as they flooded her imagination. They hadn’t ever returned, not through all their summer vacations as a family of three. Tim always preferred Hilton Head, or somewhere on the Gulf in Florida. They’d sampled Maui and the Caribbean. But this trip was all about following where her whim led her. Why not set the GPS to Pawleys Island and try to find the Old Gray Barn? Was it still there? Had a hurricane swept it away? Had developers leveled it and built modern condominiums?
It was now her mission to find out. She typed in the destination and was thrilled to learn it was four and a half hours away. She’d be there by lunchtime. Happily, she buckled herself in, set her music and took off.
The GPS kept her busy, keeping up with all the road changes. There didn’t seem to be a straight path from Charlotte to Pawleys. But it kept the trip interesting, staying on one road for twelve miles or so
, then merging onto another. Two and a half hours in, she crossed over the South Carolina border, cheering as she did. As the beach got closer, the air streaming in through her open window grew heavier. The tangy smell of salt tickled her nostrils, and the density of ocean air filled her lungs. Along with it, she could barely contain her glee.
In the early afternoon, she arrived. She had no clear childhood memory of the town itself, so she didn’t have a clue how to locate The Old Gray Barn. Her GPS wouldn’t help her with that dilemma either. She’d have to stop for lunch and hope someone could help.
A few minutes later, she pulled into a restaurant, a shabby small building with an inlet water view, its marquis boasting the best fried shrimp in town. Leslie went in and was seated. A young woman placed a napkin rolled with silverware and a menu on the table.
“What would you like to drink?”
“Pepsi, thanks.”
She pushed the menu aside because the shrimp had caught her fancy, then reached for it again. Maybe she’d come back here, if the food was good. The locale was fine, the view was terrific, and glancing at the menu, she saw the prices were affordable.
The waitress brought the icy drink. “Know what you want?”
“I’ll take the fried shrimp dinner.”
The woman smiled and nodded. “Excellent choice. Sides?” She pointed at a list on the menu.
To celebrate being in the south, Leslie chose cole slaw, hush puppies and collard greens. The waitress bounced off to place the order.
As she waited, she glanced around the dining room. White painted walls were covered with framed prints and photographs of the ocean, sunsets or fishing boats. The place reminded her of every single beach town cheap seafood joint she’d ever been to, and she reveled in its familiarity. Being at the beach just made her happy, it always had.
Her meal came, along with a fragrant rush of fried goodness. “This looks delicious. But I have a question for you. I’m looking for an old rental house called The Old Gray Barn. I stayed there when I was a kid. Are you familiar with it?”
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 7