The Shop on Blossom Street

Page 27

Nothing had ever come easy for Alix. Everything had been a struggle. If she was going to have a good life, she had to make it happen herself. That recognition fired her determination to give this relationship a chance.
Alix was waiting outside the skating rink, leaning against the building, when the big yellow church bus pulled up. The doors opened and about a thousand pre-teens poured out. No one paid much attention to Alix until Jordan walked over to her, wearing the biggest grin she’d ever seen.
“I was hoping you’d show up.”
“I’m not skating.” She wanted that understood. “I came to watch.” She wasn’t willing to play the role of klutz in front of a crowd of teenyboppers.
“You’ll be missing out on all the fun.”
She didn’t care; no one was strapping her into a pair of skates.
The rink opened and the kids swarmed inside. Alix hung around on the street, smoking a cigarette, then casually wandered into the rink. Already kids were skating on the polished wooden floor, speeding around and around with the music blasting. This wasn’t music Alix recognized—but then she realized she did. She’d heard one of the songs while she was standing outside the church last Sunday morning. The rink apparently provided Christian rock.
Alix had to look for Jordan. Then she saw him, surrounded by kids. They followed him wherever he went—as though he were Moses, she thought with a smile. Some of that Bible stuff had definitely stuck. Jordan was busy helping them with their skates and putting on his own. Before he ventured into the rink, he stopped and gazed around. When he saw her, he smiled that lazy, happy grin and she nodded her head in acknowledgement. He winked back, and it felt as if the sun was shining directly on her.
Despite her curiosity, Alix remained in the background, taking everything in. Jordan finally skated into the rink, faltering a bit before he found his balance. Once he did, he began skating smoothly and confidently; she found it a pleasure to watch. A few of the kids skated around him, and some of them were really good, skating backward and doing creative dance-style moves to the music.
When Alix lost sight of Jordan, she moved closer to the railing. Jordan skated past and waved. It didn’t take long for the church kids to notice the attention he paid Alix. Several stopped to look at her and chat among themselves. Alix ignored them.
“Is Jordan your friend?” a girl asked. She couldn’t be more than thirteen, with perfect dark hair and olive skin. Another girl, a blonde in braces, stood beside her.
Alix nodded.
“He mentioned you,” Blondie said.
Okay, so Alix was curious. “What did he say?”
The other girl answered. “Jordan said he’d invited a friend to join him. He said you used to be his valentine.”
Alix shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”
“He’s kinda cute, don’t you think?” Blondie said.
Alix shrugged again. Anything she said was sure to get back to Jordan.
“Aren’t you going to skate?” the first girl asked.
“Maybe later.”
Jordan went around the rink at least a dozen times, then pleaded fatigue and glided over to stand next to Alix. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’ve been around.”
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”
She almost hadn’t, but she didn’t mention the reason.
“You’ve never skated before, have you?”
“Every kid’s skated,” she returned, rather than confess the truth.
An hour later, Alix was wearing a pair of skates. Before she knew it, her two newfound friends had convinced her to give it a try. Once Alix had on the skates, the girls led her into the rink, each holding one of her hands.
“Don’t worry, we aren’t going to let you fall,” the blond girl promised.
The girls gripped her fingers hard enough for Alix to believe it.
She shouldn’t have.
Two feet onto the slick wooden floor, Alix started flailing. Not ten seconds later, she was flat on her butt. She didn’t have a chance to even think before Jordan came up behind her and tucked his arms under hers, swooping her upright.
“Everyone falls.” Then with his arm around her waist and his free hand holding hers, they made one full circuit of the rink. Kids whizzed past them at speeds that made Alix dizzy. She didn’t look. Couldn’t look. She needed all her concentration to remain upright.
“This isn’t so hard.” She was starting to get the feel of it. Despite herself she laughed. It was as if she were six years old again and Santa had delivered that pair of roller skates, after all.
“Cherie says you’re cool.”
Alix didn’t care what the little blond girl thought. “What do you say?” she asked Jordan.
He grinned down at her. “I think you’re pretty cool, too.”
His words were more beautiful than any music she’d ever heard.
CHAPTER 26
“People who say they don’t have enough patience to knit are precisely those who could most improve their lives by learning how!”
—Sally Melville, author of The Knitting Experience series
LYDIA HOFFMAN
T his has been quite a week. It’s unheard of for me to have two social engagements within the same seven-day period. My lunch on Wednesday with Carol did so much good—for both of us. I feel I connected with her and extended a hand of friendship. She responded, and I’m confident we’ll stay in touch, whether or not she continues to knit.
The class earlier this afternoon was the best yet. Following the incident in the back alley, Alix and Jacqueline were cordial and just shy of friendly. Jacqueline relayed the details of the confrontation in minute detail, with Alix leaping in to add comments. Anyone looking at them would think they were longtime friends.
When I asked Jacqueline how her husband had reacted when she told him about the incident, she’d gone suspiciously quiet. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I have the feeling all is not well between Jacqueline and Reese Donovan.
The class flew by, and then I was seeing Brad for drinks. We were meeting at The Pour House for a beer at six after I’d closed for the day. Despite the drizzle we’d had intermittently since early morning, I was in a great mood.
The Pour House was about two blocks off Blossom, and seemed to be a popular hangout for the after-work crowd. The noise level was high with music blaring from a jukebox, high-spirited laughter and a television above the bar, which had a ball game on. I’m not very interested in sports, but I know lots of men are. Between the noise and the room’s darkness, I felt a bit disoriented.
Brad had found a booth near the back, and when he saw me, he stood, waving his arms over his head. I smiled and waved back, then quickly made my way across the room, negotiating tables and chairs.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it,” he said as he slid back into the booth.
“Am I late?” I glanced at my watch, and was surprised to see that it was almost fifteen minutes past six. I shook the rain off my jacket and Brad hung it up for me.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, but I’ve only got half an hour or so. The day care teacher said she’d keep Cody until seven-fifteen but not a minute longer and it takes me at least twenty minutes to get there.”
“How old is your son?”
“Eight. He keeps telling me he’s too old to be in day care, but I’m not letting him stay by himself all day.” Judging by Brad’s frown, I guessed this had been a frequent argument over the summer. “Sometimes I swear that kid’s eight going on eighteen.”
I thought of my own two nieces and while I might not be a mother, I understood what he was saying.
“Since we don’t have much time,” Brad said, “I’d rather not waste it talking about me. I want to learn about you.”
I considered myself the least intriguing of subjects. Nevertheless, I was flattered by his curiosity.
“I know there’s a lot of interest in knitting, but isn’t it risky to open a shop right now?” he asked before I could forestall him with questions of my own. I knew so little about Brad except what my eyes told me. He was as handsome as sin. From bits and pieces of conversation, I also knew he was divorced and apparently had custody of his eight-year-old son, but that was about it.
He certainly wasn’t the first person to express concern about my timing. Everyone worried that I was going to become a victim of our weak economy, that I was in over my head. But I’d been treading water since I was sixteen, so opening my own yarn store was no riskier than anything else in my life. Margaret had come right out and declared that I was making a mistake. But if I’d waited until all the conditions were ideal, it would never have happened. After two bouts with cancer, I knew I couldn’t wait for life to be perfect. I had to find my own happiness and quit waiting for it to find me.
I saw that he’d already ordered a pitcher of beer, which had just arrived. He paid the waitress and poured us each a glass. “My dad died just after Christmas,” I said as if that explained everything. “I was dealing with that loss, and then one day I found myself knitting furiously and remembered a conversation we’d had several years earlier.”
Brad sipped his beer and nodded for me to continue.
My throat got a bit scratchy but I ignored the emotion that filled me at the mention of my father. I don’t know if I’ll ever grow accustomed to having lost him. I paused for a moment.
“Go on,” Brad encouraged.
“At the time, I figured I was the one who didn’t have long to live.”
“You said you had cancer.”
“Twice.” I wanted to be sure he understood. I waited for a reaction from him, but he gave me none.
“Go on,” he said again. “You were talking about your father.”
I sipped my beer. He’d chosen a dark ale and I liked it. “I was in the hospital, and it was the night before my second brain surgery. Mom and Dad came to spend the evening with me. Mom was reading, and Dad and I were talking.” I remember that night so well because in my own heart I was convinced I’d be dead before the year was over. Dad was the one who believed in me, who insisted I was going to cheat death a second time.
“He asked me to describe one perfect day,” I told Brad. I knew he was forcing me to acknowledge that I wanted to live. The question was his way of drawing me into a future. A future I firmly believed was unavailable to me.
“What did you tell him?” Brad had leaned forward and cupped both hands around his mug.
I closed my eyes for a few seconds. “That I wanted to wake up in my own bed instead of one in a hospital.”
“Can’t blame you there.”
I grinned. Brad made it surprisingly easy to talk about myself. “Next I wanted to be able to smell flowers and be close to the water and feel sunshine on my face.”
“In the Pacific Northwest?” He smiled as he asked the question and I couldn’t help responding with a laugh.
“My perfect day happens in late summer, when we get plenty of sunshine.” This past Wednesday was a good example. “Now don’t distract me.”