Knit Two Together. Connie Lane

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СКАЧАТЬ to cut Meghan some slack, Libby put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Over the past months Meghan had grown at least an inch.

      Libby herself wasn’t as petite as she was compact and though she struggled to maintain her figure as she was nearing forty, she sometimes looked longingly at Meghan, who was tall and willowy even as she was just entering her teenage years. Libby wondered what it would be like not to have to hem every pair of pants she ever bought.

      Meghan’s hair was nearly black, her eyes were as blue as sapphires and her complexion was porcelain perfection. They were traits she’d inherited from her father’s side of the family and she had yet to learn—thank goodness!—to use them to her best advantage. When she did, Libby knew Meghan would break hearts and—at least until hers was broken in return and she knew how much it hurt—she’d enjoy every minute of it.

      Libby, on the other hand, had unremarkable brown hair that tended to curl unless she kept it short and tamed with any number of hair-care products. She liked tailored, classic clothes, traditional styling and lots of color. As long as the colors in question were black, navy-blue, gray or white.

      Meghan’s growth spurt was just another sign that life was changing. Time was passing, and it was a reminder that Libby couldn’t wait for a fairy tale someday to make a new life for herself and her daughter. Today was what they had. It was all that mattered.

      “What do you say?” She stepped toward Barb’s Knits, taking Meghan along with her. “Should we have a look inside?”

      “Do we have to?”

      “Unless you want to live out here on the sidewalk.”

      Beneath her hand, Libby felt her daughter’s shoulders rise and fall. “We could go home.”

      “This is home now.”

      “We could—”

      “Race you to the door.” It was a game they hadn’t played in years, and Libby couldn’t say why she thought of it. She slid her arm from around Meghan’s shoulders and hurried up the front steps, fast enough to make it look as if she was willing to compete, but slow enough to allow Meghan to win. It wasn’t until she was at the door that she looked back to see Meghan standing exactly where she’d left her.

      “You’re so embarrassing,” Meghan said, and she stomped up to the porch.

      “Yeah,” Libby said under her breath. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

      With one hand, she fished in her purse for the key that her mother’s attorney had sent. She pulled it out and held it up for Meghan to see.

      “You ready?” she asked her daughter.

      Am I?

      The words taunted Libby. She fingered the key, imagining what she might find on the other side of the door. Was she ready for this glimpse into her mother’s life? Libby couldn’t lie to herself; she hoped that something on the other side of the door would reveal Barb’s character, explain her motives, prove a mother’s love she’d never known.

      And if she didn’t find it?

      “Mom!”

      Meghan’s voice snapped Libby back to reality.

      “You gonna go inside or you just gonna stand here and stare?”

      Libby tossed the key into the air and caught it. “Gonna go inside,” she said and she unlocked the front door. She paused on the threshold, drew in a breath for courage. And immediately gagged.

      “I think something’s dead in there,” she said at the same time Meghan squealed.

      Libby wasn’t going to let that stop her. She hadn’t come hundreds of miles to be chased away by a smell.

      There was a wooden chair on the front porch, and Libby propped it against the door to keep it open and allow some air inside.

      As ready as she’d ever be, she stepped into Barb’s Knits.

      “The place is a dump.” Meghan was right behind her and as always, she had a way of distilling a situation to its essence.

      Barb’s Knits was, indeed, a dump.

      The room they stepped into must have once been the living room of the first-floor apartment. In addition to a dust-covered counter and cash register on the left, there was a wall of shelves and books directly ahead of them, and across from it, tables where tape measures, scissors and other supplies were piled. Beyond a doorway was another room and from what Libby could see, another past that. She peered through the gloom. There was lots of yarn everywhere, lots of dust and—Libby shivered—even some mouse droppings.

      And something else.

      In spite of Meghan’s half-heard warnings about ghosts, axe murderers and creepy crawlers, Libby started into the next room without hesitation, her attention caught by a display table.

      The table had two tiers. The bottom one was stacked with wool, but Libby hardly noticed. Her eyes were on the teddy bear on the top tier. A cocoa-colored bear with one missing eye.

      “Mom, you okay?”

      “Of course.” Libby answered automatically, even though she wasn’t sure she was. Though she had no clear memory of the bear, there was something vaguely familiar about it. He was dressed in a fisherman knit sweater—handmade by the looks of it—and the fur on his right arm was nearly gone as if years of hugs had worn it away. Instinctively Libby touched the bear with one finger, then stepped back. She swore he was watching her with that one good eye of his.

      “Mom!” Meghan’s voice called from the front room. “You’re awfully quiet in there. Did you get kidnapped?”

      “I’m just looking around,” she told Meghan. “That’s all.”

      “Yeah, right. And I just fell off a turnip truck.”

      It was what Libby always said when Meghan tried to pull a fast one on her. Libby smiled grimly.

      Meghan stepped through the wide arched doorway that separated what had once been the living room from the dining room, caught sight of the bear and hurried over to scoop it into her arms. “Hey, he’s actually kind of cute. And, look, he’s wearing a little sweater! It doesn’t look nasty and dirty like some of this other stuff around here, does it?”

      “Put him down, Meghan.”

      Her daughter looked at Libby as if she’d lost her mind and in a way she supposed she had. That was the only thing that would explain how a toy—one she’d sworn she’d never seen before—could make her feel as if suddenly the walls were closing in on her. Her stomach churned.

      “Don’t worry. It doesn’t look like he has fleas or anything.” Meghan held the bear in front of her nose and studied him closely. “With a little cleaning and—”

      “I told you, Meghan, put the bear down.”

      Libby’s voice was sharp and prickly, and hearing it, she felt guilty for snapping and even guiltier for not caring.

      “Come СКАЧАТЬ