Blossom Street Bundle

Already she could see that knitting was something she’d enjoy. At noon she’d go and choose her yarn for the first class, two days from now. Timing would be tight, since Anne Marie was still joining Ellen for lunch on Wednesdays, even though the girl was living with her.

“I was thinking I’d have everyone over for dinner,” Lillie murmured, breaking into Anne Marie’s thoughts.

She must have responded with a blank look because Lillie immediately said, “For our meeting? To discuss our wishes.”

“Oh, right.”

“Is Thursday still okay?”

“Yes…” Anne Marie returned with some hesitation. “But remember Ellen will be with me.”

“That’s fine,” Lillie said.

“You’re sure?” Anne Marie could probably find someone to watch Ellen if she had to.

“Of course she can come,” Lillie was quick to tell her. “We’d love to have Ellen.”

Anne Marie grinned, remembering how intently Ellen had worked at compiling her own list. “Did I mention Ellen’s got Twenty Wishes, too?”

Mother and daughter shared a smile.

“My friend Jacqueline Donovan is making one, as well,” Lillie added. “The minute I mention the idea to anyone, they decide to make their own. Jacqueline told me the first wish on her list is to ride a camel in Egypt and see the pyramids. She also wants to sleep under the desert sky.”

“Jacqueline? Camping?” Barbie said incredulously. “That woman likes her luxuries.”

“I know, that was my reaction, too.” Lillie shrugged in amusement. “Who knew?”

“I guess it’s like me and belly dancing,” Barbie said. “It was in the back of my mind, just a vague…whimsy, I guess you could say, but it didn’t enter my consciousness until I started working on my list of wishes. Sometimes I think we’re afraid to admit we want certain things. Especially things that contradict the image we have of ourselves.”

“Or the way others think of us,” Lillie said.

“Right.”

A customer walked in the door.

Lillie glanced over her shoulder and then back at Anne Marie. “Thursday night, then. Shall we say six?”

“I’m looking forward to it.” And she was. Her list of wishes was growing and it wasn’t as difficult to come up with ideas as it had originally been. All at once a whole world of wishes, of desires and possibilities, had opened up to her, ideas that had seemed beyond the scope of her imagination only a few weeks ago. Perhaps her heart had finally, gradually, begun to mend. She had fifteen wishes now.

12. Take a cake-decorating class and bake Ellen a huge birthday cake

13. Practice not-so-random acts of kindness at least once a week

14. Ride the biggest roller coaster in the world at Six Flags in New Jersey

15. Visit the Civil War battlefield in Gettysburg and then go to Amish country

That evening as Anne Marie put away the dinner dishes, Ellen sat at the kitchen table, doing her homework. Her ankles were demurely crossed, her entire demeanor intent.

Ellen had spoken with her grandmother before dinner, and so had Anne Marie. Dolores was regaining her strength. It wouldn’t be long before Ellen could return to her home and all that was familiar.

“Do you need me to go over your spelling with you?” Anne Marie offered as she wiped the countertop.

“No, thank you.”

“Don’t you have a test tomorrow?”

“Yes, but I already memorized all the words,” Ellen said proudly.

“On the very first day?”

Ellen nodded. “I did that after I took Baxter for a walk when I got home.”

Anne Marie wasn’t sure how Baxter would do when Ellen went back to her grandmother’s. The eight-year-old had completely spoiled him. Every day after the school bus dropped her off, Ellen ran up the stairs to their apartment and lavished Baxter with love and attention. Anne Marie walked her dog twice every day and once in the evening. Now, however, Ellen took over for her in the afternoon. Anne Marie used to take him to the alley behind the store. Not Ellen. She paraded him up and down Blossom Street with all the ceremony of visiting royalty. Needless to say, Baxter loved their excursions.

Cody, Lydia’s stepson, had recently come by with his dog, Chase, and the two dogs and children had quickly become friends. The dogs made quite a pair; Chase was a hefty golden retriever and Baxter was tiny by comparison. Like many small dogs, Baxter wasn’t intimidated by the bigger dog’s size, and the two of them marched side by side, looking for all the world like Laurel and Hardy.

In addition to Lydia, Ellen had made friends with several of the other business-owners. It wasn’t uncommon for her to return with a carnation given to her by Susannah or a cookie from Alix at the French Café.

“Can I watch TV when I finish my homework?” Ellen asked, glancing up from her arithmetic.

“Okay.” Anne Marie was looking forward to sitting down in front of the TV, too. She’d gone to A Good Yarn on her lunch break to buy the necessary knitting supplies. With the extra classes and increased business, the shop was now open six days a week. Elise had helped Anne Marie select her yarn and needles. The choices seemed endless, and after much debate, she’d decided on a soft washable wool in lavender to make a lap robe for Dolores Falk.

Because Anne Marie was so eager to learn, Elise had taught her how to cast on and showed her the basic knit stitch. To her delight, Anne Marie had picked it up without a problem.

An hour later, Anne Marie and Ellen sat together on the sofa, watching the Family Channel. Wanting to practice what she’d learned, Anne Marie took out the needles and a skein of yarn.

“What are you doing?” Ellen asked.

“Knitting,” she said, adding “I hope,” under her breath.

“Grandma Dolores used to knit.”

Anne Marie nodded.

“She said she’d teach me.”

Again Anne Marie acknowledged the comment with a slight inclination of her head as she concentrated on casting on stitches.

“Is it hard?”

“Not really.”

“Can I watch you?”

“Sure.”

Ellen scooted closer and stared fixedly as Anne Marie attempted what Elise called a knitted cast-on. The term didn’t mean anything to her; all she wanted to do was get stitches onto the needle.

“That’s knitting?” Ellen said.

Anne Marie paused. “I think so.”

Ellen removed her shoes and stood on the sofa to get a better view.

Suddenly she bounded off the sofa and dashed into her bedroom. She was back an instant later with a pad and paper.

“What’s that for?” Anne Marie asked as the youngster skidded to a stop, barely missing the coffee table.

“My Twenty Wishes. I want to learn how to knit, too.”

Anne Marie grinned at her. “How about if I teach you what I know?”

“You mean now?” The girl’s eyes grew round.

“Why not?”

“Okay.” Ellen leaped back onto the sofa, sitting close beside Anne Marie.

“According to Elise…”

“Mrs. Beaumont?”

“Yes, Mrs. Beaumont. There are actually only two basic stitches. The first is called the knit stitch and the second is a purl stitch.”

“Okay,” Ellen said again, nodding sagely.

“So far, I just know how to do the knit stitch. I’ll learn how to purl in the first class.”

“You haven’t taken a real class yet?”

“No. I’m signed up, though.”

“Oh.”

“In other words, Ellen, I don’t know all that much, but I’m willing to show you what I can do. If you like it, I’ll take you to the yarn shop and let you pick out your own needles and yarn.”

“Really?” Ellen was beside herself with excitement. “Really? Really?”

“Yes, really,” Anne Marie responded, smiling.

For the next forty minutes, the television show was forgotten as Anne Marie showed Ellen what Elise had taught her that day. Ellen didn’t catch on as easily as Anne Marie, but she was, after all, only eight.

Anne Marie was pleased with the child’s determination to learn. Before the evening was over, Ellen was every bit as proficient as Anne Marie.

“I want to knit something for Grandma Dolores,” Ellen stated. “Something pretty.”

“What about a scarf?” Anne Marie suggested. She’d seen several exquisite ones at the shop. Elise had explained that these elaborate scarves had been knit using only the basic stitch she’d taught Anne Marie that very day.

“For her to wear to church,” Ellen continued excitedly. “I’ll give it to her when she comes home from the hospital.”

“That’s a very good idea.”

Ellen finished the row and was about to start another when Anne Marie noticed the time. The evening had simply slipped away. It used to be that the hours she spent in the apartment moved so slowly she seemed aware of every passing minute.

“It’s nine o’clock,” Anne Marie said. “You should’ve been in bed half an hour ago.”

“Is it nine already?” Ellen protested, but she couldn’t hold back a yawn.

“I’m afraid so. We’ll knit again tomorrow night,” Anne Marie promised.

Ellen set down the needles and yarn and stumbled toward her room, yawning every step of the way.

“Call me when you’re ready for your prayers, sleepyhead.”

“Oh…kay.”

A few minutes later, Ellen called out that she was ready. They followed the same routine as when Ellen lived with her grandmother, which meant that Anne Marie listened to the girl’s prayers. She’d been saying them aloud for the last while.

Kneeling by the sofa bed, Anne Marie propped her elbows on the mattress, closed her eyes and bowed her head. Ellen’s prayers didn’t vary much. First, she asked God to help her grandmother get better. Then she asked Him to bless a number of people, Anne Marie and Baxter included, with lengthy descriptions of each. Finally, she gave thanks for the day’s small triumphs. At the end of the seemingly interminable list, she said “Amen.”

“Amen,” Anne Marie echoed. “Good night, Ellen.” She drew the covers more firmly around her and was about to get up when Ellen threw both arms around Anne Marie’s neck and hugged her tightly. “Thank you for teaching me to knit.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, hugging her back. Getting to her feet, she turned out the light, then tiptoed out of the room. As was her habit, she left the door slightly ajar.

It wasn’t until Anne Marie had stepped into the hallway that she realized something—this was the first time Ellen had actually hugged her. The night Anne Marie had gone to Dolores Falk’s home, Ellen had fallen weeping into her arms, but that wasn’t a real hug. Not like the one she’d just received.

Anne Marie stood right where she was and savored the moment. She felt loved and needed in a way she never had before.

It was like the return of warmth after the coldest winter of her life.

Chapter 18

“You came!” Tessa Bassett said with unrestrained glee when Barbie stepped forward to purchase her movie ticket. The teenager’s face was flushed with excitement, and she leaned forward, lowering her voice. “He’s here.”

“Mark?” Barbie could hardly believe it. She hadn’t expected this, but it shouldn’t surprise her. Mark was definitely intrigued, even if he resisted her. Despite his hostility he hadn’t really wanted to scare her off. Or maybe he was testing her interest. At any rate, Barbie saw the first substantial crack in that impervious exterior of his.

Mark was back. For that matter, so was she.

“He said he wasn’t going to ever come on a Monday again—but now he has. I wanted to call you but I didn’t know your last name, so I couldn’t. I just hoped you’d be back and you are.” This was all said in one breath. While she was speaking, Tessa slipped her the movie ticket and held out her hand for the money.

“What movie am I seeing?”

“A horror flick.”

“Oh…”

“You don’t like horror movies?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh.” Tessa’s face fell. “Do you want to see something else? You don’t, do you? Because I think my uncle Mark likes you. Only he’s afraid ’cause, after the accident, his wife divorced him and he’s never heard from her again. You’re the first woman he’s even noticed since then.”

Barbie stared at her, appalled. This ex-wife of his sounded like a shallow, selfish woman. Whatever happened to “for better, for worse”? Marriage vows didn’t become null and void if one of the partners got sick or hurt. She knew without a second’s hesitation that she and Gary would have stuck by each other, regardless of circumstances.

She sighed. “I suppose I could watch a horror movie,” she said. “How bloody is it?”

Tessa grimaced, wrinkling her nose. “Real bloody.”

“Are there dismembered body parts?” That was the worst, in Barbie’s opinion.

Tessa nodded reluctantly. “But he came back! That’s big.”

Undecided, Barbie chewed on her lower lip. Tessa was right; neither of them had expected Mark to return. Barbie wasn’t sure why she’d come—force of habit? Hope?

“Just go,” Tessa urged. “Don’t look at the screen. Close your eyes and plug your ears. That’s what I do.”

Other than the thought of having to watch the dispersing of gore and guts, choreographed to loud, pounding music, Barbie couldn’t have said what was stopping her. So the movie wasn’t exactly her choice. So what? She’d be with Mark and wasn’t that the whole point of being here?

“Okay,” she said with a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”

“Terrific!”

She just prayed she wouldn’t have nightmares for the rest of her life.

“Let me know what happens, okay? With Uncle Mark, I mean,” Tessa said. “My parents and my grandmother want to know, too.”

“Okay.” That meant the whole family was in on this, which was encouraging.

Barbie took her time, waiting until the last possible minute before slipping into the darkened theater. She purchased her popcorn and soda and lingered in the lobby until the show was about to start.

When she walked into the theater, the previews had already begun. She made her way to the row where Mark had parked his wheelchair, the same as usual. As she had previously, she sat one seat away from him.

He turned and stared at her in feigned surprise. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

She could act as well as he could. “Oh, hello,” she said brightly. “Is that you again?”

For a moment she suspected the hint of a smile. She turned back to the screen just in time to see an ax-murderer heave his weapon of death into a wall next to a trembling woman’s head. Unable to stop herself, she gasped aloud and nearly dropped her popcorn.

“Frightens you, does it?” Mark asked in a far too satisfied tone. “Might I remind you these are only the previews.”

“Yikes.” She gritted her teeth.

Mark laughed, causing a woman behind him to make a shushing sound. “Yikes,” he repeated, lowering his voice. “Is that the best you can do?”

“Might I remind you I have sons.”

“And you’re a lady, right?” He spoke as if he intended that to be an insult.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said stiffly. “I know all the words you do. I merely choose not to say them.”

“I doubt it,” he muttered, then settled back in his wheelchair to watch the movie, which was just getting started.

He gave every appearance of enjoying it, but as far as Barbie was concerned, this was torture. She’d always avoided being around when her sons watched horror DVDs with the bloodthirsty gusto of teenage boys. Now she squirmed in her seat, covered her face frequently and dashed out of the the-ater twice. It was even worse than she’d expected. Special effects being what they were, little was left to the imagination.

Barbie knew very well that Mark had planned this. He’d guessed—and guessed right—that she’d hate a movie like The Axman Cometh and had intentionally subjected her to an hour and a half of disgusting violence. The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became. And yet, she was determined to prove she could take it. Even if she couldn’t.

After her second escape, when she’d hurried into the foyer to avoid watching another horrific scene, Mark leaned toward her and asked, “Are you going to finish that popcorn?”

“How can you possibly eat?” she snapped.

His grin seemed boyish as he reached for her bag and helped himself to a huge handful. Oh, yes, she thought grimly, he was enjoying her discomfort.

The movie wasn’t actually all that long but it seemed to drag on for hours and hours and hours. The music, the tension, the blood, the stupidity was simply too much. By the time the movie ended, Barbie felt drained. The lights came up and the twenty or so viewers filed out of the theater. Mark stayed put and so did Barbie.

Finally she turned to him. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what?” he asked innocently.

Barbie wasn’t fooled. She also decided that if this was a test, she’d failed. He knew she wanted to be with him, and because of that she’d endure this…this torture. She began to wonder if Tessa and her family had it all wrong. Maybe Mark wasn’t attracted to her. Maybe he was just trying to punish her. Barbie began to mistrust her own intuition, her certainty that he reciprocated her interest. If he meant to signal that he didn’t want her to bother him again, perhaps she should listen.

Fine. She would.

Barbie stood and, without another word, walked out of the theater.

Tessa, who’d been busy both times she’d fled into the lobby, was waiting for her.

“Well?” the girl asked anxiously.

“I don’t care if I ever see your uncle again,” Barbie said flatly.

Tessa’s mouth fell open.

“What?”

“You heard me. He’s rude and arrogant and…and…” She tried to think of a word that adequately described him. “Mean,” she concluded. Making her sit through that debacle of a movie was downright mean.

“What did he say?” Tessa demanded, trotting alongside her.

“He didn’t have to say anything. I got the message.”

“Tell me,” Tessa pleaded. “My mom and grandma are gonna bug me if I don’t tell them what happened.”

“Let me put it succinctly. Mark isn’t interested. Period. If you think he is, then you and your family are sadly mistaken.” Hearing his wheelchair behind her, Barbie whirled around to face him, ignoring the curious bystanders arriving for the next movie. “Isn’t that right, Mark?”

Mark was silent.

“You like her, don’t you, Uncle Mark?”

“I came to see a movie,” he responded, his voice impassive. “If I wanted to find my perfect match, I would’ve gone online. She is right. I’m not interested.”

Barbie tossed the girl an I-told-you-so look and stalked out. She was all the way to the exit when Mark called her name.

“What?” she asked angrily. “Don’t worry,” she told him before he could say a word. “I won’t make the mistake of sitting next to you again—at any movie.”

He blinked, then shrugged as if it made no difference to him. “Whatever.”

Over the years, Barbie had come to hate that word and its connotation of teenage apathy. With as much dignity as she could gather, she continued toward the parking lot.

She was surprised when Tessa ran out of the building after her. “He didn’t mean anything,” she said breathlessly. “How would he know you hated scary movies? He just wanted to find out if you’d be willing to see something besides a romantic comedy. The least you can do is give him another chance.”

“Why are you trying so hard?” Barbie asked. She was willing to accept that she’d made a mistake and move on. As attractive as she found Mark, she wasn’t going to invite his rejection over and over again.

“You have to give him another chance,” Tessa said.

“Why?”

Tessa paused, then answered on a heavy sigh. “Because my uncle Mark deserves to be loved.” Her eyes pleaded with Barbie’s. “This is new to him. He married his high school girlfriend and never loved anyone else and then she dumped him after the accident….” She gulped in a breath. “I’m positive he likes you—only he doesn’t know how to show it.”

Barbie hesitated. If anything about this entire evening astonished her, it was that Mark hadn’t come outside and insisted his niece mind her own business. Delving inside her purse, she searched for a business card. “Okay, fine. Give him this and tell him the next move is his.”

Tessa’s face shone with eagerness as she nodded. “Great! Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you. You won’t be sorry, I promise.”

That remained to be seen.

Feeling wretched, Barbie did what she always did when she needed solace—she drove to her mother’s house.

Lillie opened the door and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?” Without delay she led her into the kitchen. “It isn’t the boys, is it?”

Barbie swallowed hard and shook her head.

Hands on her hips, Lillie stood in the middle of her beautiful, gleaming kitchen. “Should I put on coffee or bring out the shot glasses?”

Barbie managed to smile. “This time I think I need both.”

Lillie took a whiskey bottle from the small liquor cabinet in the kitchen, then started a pot of coffee. That involved first grinding beans, a production Barbie lacked the patience to bother with.

“So, tell me what happened,” Lillie said when she’d made two Irish coffees. She sat on the stool at the counter next to Barbie and they silently toasted each other with the mugs.

“I saw Mark again.”

Her mother nodded. “The man you met at the theater.”

“Yes.” She hadn’t told Lillie much about him, and with good reason. As soon as her mother learned he was in a wheelchair, she’d find a dozen reasons to dissuade her from pursuing him.

Barbie already knew a relationship with Mark wouldn’t be easy. She’d done her homework. All right, she’d looked up a few facts about paraplegics on the Internet. Even his anger with the world wasn’t unusual. Until this evening, she’d assumed she was prepared to deal with it. Apparently not.

Lillie gestured for Barbie to continue. “And…”

“And he…he isn’t interested.”

Lillie cast her a look of disbelief. “That can’t be true. You’re gorgeous, young, accomplished—and a lovely person. Is something wrong with him?”

“Not really.” A half truth.

“He’s not…”

“No, Mother, he’s not gay. Or married.” Barbie wondered how much more she should explain.

Lillie studied her and raised one elegantly curved eyebrow. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Barbie should’ve known her mother would see straight through her prevarication.

Lillie’s voice grew gentler. “What is it, honey?”

Barbie sighed. “If I tell you, I’m afraid you’ll discourage me, and I don’t think I could bear that just now.”

For a long moment her mother didn’t respond. “It’s odd you should say that, seeing I have something I wanted to discuss with you and…and haven’t, for the very same reason.”

“What?” Barbie’s curiosity was instantly piqued. She couldn’t imagine her mother keeping anything from her. They were each other’s support system, especially since David and Gary had died. But then, she’d never supposed she’d ever hide secrets from Lillie, either. Obviously they were both guilty of deception.

Lillie cleared her throat. “I…I recently met someone myself.” Barbie was stunned. “You haven’t said a word.”

Her mother avoided eye contact. “I’m afraid if I mention …my friend, you’ll discourage me.” She picked up her coffee and took a deep swallow. “This man I met—I believe we’re both afraid of what others will think,” she added. “Jacqueline urged me to ask him out, since he seems reluctant to approach me. But women of my generation don’t do things like that. Yet I find the idea so appealing, I’m willing to put aside everything I’ve had ingrained in me all these years just for the opportunity to spend time with him again.”

Lillie’s cheeks were flushed and her hands trembled slightly as she raised the mug to her lips. It might’ve been the whiskey, but Barbie doubted that. There was more to this. Her mother was the most competent, composed woman she’d ever known and her being so flustered and unnerved over a man was completely out of character.