by Geri Krotow
“I wanted to have a yarn shop eventually, but not until I was on my feet with the llamas. Plus, there was the issue of being able to knit myself. You’ve taught me so much, Sasha!”
Sasha felt her face grow hot, but she wasn’t embarrassed. She was proud she’d helped Claire.
“Thanks, Claire.”
“Don’t thank me, honey. Thank your mother for teaching you how to knit.”
“So, it’s like she’s the one who taught you, isn’t it, Claire?” Sasha smiled at her.
Claire’s face stilled and she bit her bottom lip. Sasha always did that, too, when she didn’t want to cry.
“Are you okay, Claire?”
Claire wrapped her arms around Sasha. “I’m more than okay, Sasha.” Sasha slipped her arms around Claire’s middle.
“I love you, Claire.”
Claire’s breath stopped and it sounded as if she hiccupped. “I love you, too, pumpkin.”
“Am I interrupting a female moment?” Mr. Black’s smooth voice came from the open doorway.
“Not at all.” Claire straightened up, walked over to Mr. Black and gave him a peck on the cheek. It was obvious to Sasha that Claire loved being around him. He was so funny whenever they knitted together.
Sasha loved Mr. Black, too. He told the best stories while they worked and taught her about the history of knitting.
“Hi, Claire, darling.” He kissed Claire on both of her cheeks, in that European style. His twinkling eyes focused on Sasha. “And how’s our princess?”
Sasha wouldn’t normally like it if anyone else called her a princess—she was twelve, after all. But Mr. Black said it in a nice way, not a sarcastic way.
“I’m fine, thanks.” She grinned at him. “Do you really think we can finish the sweater by Father’s Day?”
“Father’s Day? That’s in June.” Mr. Black nodded. “We’ll have this done well before then.”
“Don’t forget we’ll have to take a break when we get closer to the Sheep and Wool Festival,” Claire said. Then she motioned to the chairs around the huge oak table she’d bought for the store.
“Let’s sit down and get started.”
CLAIRE AND SASHA worked with Mr. Black for an hour or so in the cottage. They’d finally gotten past the difficult parts of the sweater. All that remained was to finish one sleeve and then sew the pieces of the sweater together.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay any longer today. Jim’s getting home from work late and I need to start dinner.”
“Donald, thank you so much for the time you’ve given us. It’s made a huge difference.”
“Glad to help.” He looked at Claire and winked. “I have a feeling the recipient’s going to appreciate this more than you can imagine.”
Claire sighed. “We’ll see.” Did he sense the hope that had started to unfurl in her heart?
CLAIRE LOOKED at Sasha with a smile. They’d finished stacking yarn after Donald left. Sasha had organized the various packages of yarn according to fiber content and color. She was a natural with anything fiber-related, that was for sure.
“Want to have some cookies?”
“Yeah!” Sasha didn’t hesitate.
They walked up to the house together, the daylight still bright and the birds singing incessantly from the surrounding trees.
“Look!” Claire pointed to a hawk flying low. She didn’t regret serving her years on the job, but she wouldn’t trade an afternoon like this to go back to D.C. for anything.
“Cool.” Sasha’s tone indicated that she comprehended the awe of the bird’s territorial swoop. She leaned back to watch the raptor, its red tail glistening gold in the sunlight. Her huge backpack was incongruous as it hung on her thin frame. She looked as if she’d tip over backward with the slightest breeze.
“Isn’t that backpack awfully heavy?”
“No, I’m used to it.” Sasha straightened and started walking with Claire again.
“I don’t get it. I don’t remember ever carrying around such a huge backpack, even in high school.”
“Yeah, Dad and Aunt Ginny always say the same thing.” Sasha shrugged. “We don’t use our lockers—they’re too small. Plus it’s easy to forget a book, and then you get in trouble the next day ’cause your homework isn’t done. It’s easier just to carry everything with you.”
“You don’t use your lockers?” Getting her own locker in seventh grade had been a highlight of middle school for Claire.
“No, it takes too long to get to them between classes. We only have three minutes.”
Sasha stopped and stared at Claire. “What did you and my mom do?”
Ah, yes, Natalie. Sasha’s connection with Natalie. Claire had to keep that firmly in her mind. Or else it would kill her when Sasha decided she’d learned all she could about Natalie. Like it or not, the day would come when Sasha didn’t need her anymore. When she didn’t need these wonderful afternoons of sharing and working side by side.
Claire ignored the tug of grief and smiled at Sasha. “We had backpacks, but the most we ever carried was one or two books, maybe a folder. Between classes we’d carry a binder with books piled on top of it in our arms. We put gym clothes and bathing suits in the backpacks.”
“Bathing suits?”
“Yes, we had swimming in gym class. Don’t you?”
“No, but I think they do at the high school.”
“Oh.” Claire had assumed the new building would’ve been bigger and better than the old one where she, Dutch and Natalie had attended middle school.
As they resumed walking, the house came into sight. Claire liked how it stood back from the road and the welcoming vision it offered.
A school memory popped up and she laughed.
“I remember one time when we’d all started wearing bras. Your mom and I had bought ours together at the discount store in South River.” Claire bent and pulled a blade of grass up and twirled it in her fingers.
“Somehow when we got back home, we mixed the bags up. I couldn’t figure out why my bra was so tight, and your mom had to use safety pins to make hers stay on.”
Claire had blossomed early and still maintained her more buxom, athletic build. Natalie had been petite and, back in sixth grade, waifish.
“We had to change before and after gym, and one of the other girls saw my back and said ‘Claire, your bra’s digging into your skin.’ I was mortified.
“Another girl noticed your mom, with her bra hanging from her, and the safety pins. Natalie said, ‘My Mom got it big enough to grow into.’ Girls of that age, as I’m sure you know, can be really cruel, and one smart-mouth made a comment that your mom needed to stuff her bra.”
Sasha’s eyes were huge as she’d obviously never heard this story.
“Your mother may have been small, but she let that girl know she’d be stuffing her mouth with her fist if she didn’t shut up. The girl never bothered her again.”
“My mom was that tough?”
“Oh, yeah. If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t know how I would’ve made it through middle or high school. Even though she was the half-pint and I was a bit of an Amazon for those years. She was the stronger, more vocal one. She knew how to stick up for herself and her friends.”
“Wow.” Sasha stared at the ground as she absorbed this facet of her mother.
“I’ll bet you’re like that,” Claire said. “Are there friends you’re helping out?”
“Yeah, sure. I mean, we all help one another out. Like when Katie Kirkland got her hair cut and it wasn’t that great but we—the girls—all said it was pretty. We all basically told Melanie Danitti to shut up when she was making fun of Katie. Melanie’s always bothering somebody.”
“I’ve found over the years that the people who cause the most commotion often need the most love.” Claire thought about what she’d said; she didn’t want Sasha to get the wrong impression. “I don’t mean you should ever put up with someone else’s abuse, even if it seems like regular teasing. But it helps me to real
ize that the other person is hurting, so that I can let it go more easily.”
“Yeah, I had a girlfriend when school started who was so nice, but she never wanted to do what I wanted to. She’d try to meet at the convenience store, which my dad would, like, never let me do, and all she did was complain about her parents.”
“Let me guess—she wanted to meet boys, too?”
“Duh.” Sasha’s ponytail bounced in response to her nod.
“Are you still friends with her?”
Sash squinted and her lips pulled down.
“No, not really. But it’s not like I’m mean to her. If she wants to sit with me at lunch I don’t move to another table or anything. But I don’t hang out with her after school.”
“I’d say that’s a good decision on your part.”
They’d reached the house and Claire was impressed with the mature way Sasha handled her relationships. She was so easygoing about it, too. Claire didn’t remember any of middle school as easygoing, except for the time she and Natalie were together.
THEY SPENT THE NEXT hour drinking milk and eating cookies, laughing, and then ended up out in the barn tending to the llamas. Both crias were doing so well, Claire couldn’t get over the difference only a month had made. She’d come so close to losing all three.
Stormy contentedly chewed her grains, while Nip and Tuck frolicked a few feet away. Claire fought the urge to jump in and help Sasha with cleaning the droppings out of the stables. Sasha needed the experience for her 4-H project. She didn’t need an adult hovering over her every move.
“While you finish up out here, I’m going to run up to the house to check my e-mail.” She was awaiting a new consulting contract. “You’re okay out here for a couple of minutes, right?”
“Yeah, of course.” Sasha kept raking.
Claire headed for the house. The impending sunset spread out around her as golden rays broke through the oak trees that lined the short drive between the barn and the house.
She had a sense of serenity she hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. She was living her dream and making up for the sins of the past. While she’d never completely compensate for abandoning her friendship with Natalie during those last critical years, this time with Natalie’s daughter made a difference.
Claire wasn’t in the house more than a few minutes, enough time to check her e-mail and see that she didn’t have the new contract yet. She grabbed a sweatshirt and went back out to the barn.
The gleam of the remaining daylight reflected off Dutch’s red pickup, startling her. He was parked next to the barn. She looked at her watch. He wasn’t due for another twenty minutes or so.
When Claire walked into the barn she didn’t know if the wave of apprehension she felt came from Dutch arriving early or the tone of his voice as he addressed Sasha.
“You’ve been out here by yourself for how long?”
“Only a few minutes, Dad. Claire went back to the house to check her e-mail. She’ll be right back. We’ve been out here together for the past hour.”
“I don’t care if it’s a few minutes or an hour, Sasha. You’re supposed to have your cell phone with you at all times.”
“Dad!” Her voice had the adolescent tone she rarely used with Claire. The “you’re driving me crazy with your ignorance” tone.
“I left it in my backpack, up at the house. I’ve been with Claire the whole time, Dad. You knew I was here, so what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal, young lady, is that I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour. I wanted to make sure you got here safely, and I needed to tell you I might be late. As it turns out I got done faster than I expected, so I decided to come and get you early.”
“Dad! I’m supposed to have two hours of service with the llamas each week. I still have another fifteen minutes.”
“Working on your 4-H project is a privilege, Sasha. If you can’t obey simple rules about using your cell phone to stay in touch, instead of texting all your buddies, 4-H and every other extra activity is going bye-bye.”
“Dad!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CLAIRE CLEARED her throat and walked into view of both father and daughter.
Dutch’s gaze immediately locked on hers. “Why did you leave her alone?” he demanded just as she said, “Hi.”
No way was she going to let him rattle her. She’d done nothing wrong. Neither had Sasha.
They’d spoken at once, and Claire’s attempt at a neutral greeting was swallowed whole by Dutch’s accusation.
“She wasn’t really alone, Dutch. I was gone for only a few minutes.”
“What would’ve happened if she needed you? Could you hear her from here?” Dutch turned to Sasha. “Could you have called Claire on your cell? No.”
He turned back to Claire.
“We have strict rules about Sasha’s cell phone, no matter where she is. I need to be able to get hold of her, and vice versa, at any time.”
“Sure, that’s a good idea.” Claire looked at Sasha and immediately felt torn. She wanted to be Sasha’s ally, but Dutch’s concern was legitimate. Although she did think he was overreacting….
“I’ll make sure Sasha carries her cell phone when she’s here.”
“Sasha’s a big girl. Right, Sash? You can remember to carry your cell.” Dutch’s tone was softening slightly.
“Yes, Dad.” Sasha’s face reflected the glumness of her reply.
“You’re almost done here, Sasha. Why don’t you finish up and meet me and your dad out in the drive in a few minutes?” Claire told herself it wasn’t her place to chew Dutch out for being so harsh with Sasha. He was the father, and she understood that he had to put his daughter’s safety first.
It felt as if he didn’t trust her, though. That stung.
She grabbed Dutch’s elbow and nudged him toward the barn door. He stiffened, but didn’t fight her touch.
“Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?” Claire kept her voice steady as she measured the extent of Dutch’s anger. She’d done this before—figured out how close to the edge an interview subject was so she could gauge how far she had to go before that person would break and share his or her feelings without reservation.
Dutch wasn’t a congressman or the president. Yet he made her aware of her breath, her heartbeat, her need. Dutch made her shake with anxiety, knowing he’d never let their original feelings for each other resurface. He’d lost too much and wouldn’t allow himself to be vulnerable, especially to her.
She reminded herself that this was for Natalie but, even more so, for Sasha. Sasha needed time with Claire; it gave her insight into her mother she wouldn’t get elsewhere.
Once they were out of Sasha’s earshot and line of vision, she spoke. “Dutch, I know you’re upset. And you have every right to be.”
His eyes narrowed as he tempered his anger.
“I would never have left Sasha out here if I didn’t think she was safe,” Claire said, stepping closer.
“I’m not used to all the rules kids have nowadays. But let me know and I’ll do whatever you want me to, whatever will make you the most comfortable with Sasha spending time here.”
“It’s not about my comfort, Claire. It’s about her safety!” His eyes blazed with fury and pent-up frustration. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.
She stared at him, unable to respond.
“You still don’t get it, do you, Claire?” His words hung between them.
“I—”
“It’s always been about you, Claire,” he broke in. “What you need, what you want to study, what you want for your life. You don’t know a thing about kids. You’ve been single all these years.”
At the unfairness of his words, her spine straightened.
“Being single and living alone doesn’t mean I’m unaware of what a child needs or how to keep her safe.”
His gaze never left her eyes. He’d convicted her without even a trial.
“I’m not talking about now, Claire.”
His mouth thinned. “You never got it when Tom died. You said you did. And after a while you seemed to get over what had happened between Natalie and me. But you never truly forgave us. You didn’t care enough. You never even talked to me after that. You threw both of us away that easily.”
“Hardly!” she snapped, coming to her own defense. “You were the one who chose to comfort Natalie that night.”
“We were kids. We let our emotions and hormones carry us away.” He shook his head. “Everything you’ve ever done has been planned for, executed, each goal achieved. There’s no room for human shortcomings in your life, is there?”
Claire stayed silent. Not usual for her, but she knew that everything he said was true—at least until she’d moved back to Dovetail. She’d accused herself of the same things countless times.
Dutch pulled a hand out of his pocket and raked it through his hair. “I understand why you never forgave me, Claire. But Natalie was your best friend. You were her rock during her childhood, when her parents split up, and for a while right after Tom died. But you had to go on that debate trip, didn’t you? And then you weren’t there anymore.”
“Dutch, I did forgive both of you a long time ago, although I’m not sure you’ve forgiven me. But what happened wasn’t totally my fault, either.” She finally verbalized the conclusion she’d come to over the past couple of months.
“You and I had already drifted apart when you and Natalie got together. Our choices, each of our choices, made our destiny for us.”
Claire watched Dutch as his wary gaze stilled and comprehension dawned.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me for leaving town and not being here for Natalie at the end, Dutch. As a matter of fact, I’m not asking your forgiveness for anything. If you choose to continue taking offense at my actions or inactions, so be it. As for me, I’m grateful for this time with Sasha, but I don’t want it to cause friction between you. I’m doing this for myself as much as for her.”
At his obstinate stance and hard-boiled expression, her anger simmered and she wasn’t sure she could control it anymore.
She noticed a movement in the barn. Sasha was talking to one of the llamas and laughing.