Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
A manda didn’t see one sign of Connor on Sunday, not that she was really looking for him, of course. Much. His workshop door remained closed, and she never saw him out on his deck. But that was okay, she told herself. She had lots to do for the festival.
She got up early on Monday and made a light breakfast before heading over to Darlene’s for her first knitting lesson. She walked over, the morning sunlight illuminating her steps as she crossed over to the bay side of the island and found Darlene’s bed-and-breakfast.
A cozy Victorian-style house sat back with a long lawn stretching before it. Wicker chairs were scattered across the front porch, inviting everyone to come and sit down. Cheerful flowerpots spilled over with bright blooms. She climbed the stairs a bit nervous, but excited.
“Come in,” Darlene greeted her. “We’re just getting started. Here, take a seat by me.”
Amanda was acutely aware of the friendly but curious glances as she sat down beside Darlene.
“Ladies, this is Amanda. She’s a brand-new knitter. And she’s the one organizing the Heritage Festival this year.”
The women greeted her warmly. Darlene introduced her to everyone, and each one showed her their project, from a lacy shawl to a striped baby blanket to a light cotton sweater. A Mrs. Thompson was busy knitting a baby sweater for her first grandchild in a delicate shade of pink. A younger woman, Sally Ann— was that her name? —was knitting a bright pair of socks. The pastor’s wife was knitting a prayer shawl, her nimble fingers moving with ease and grace.
Watching their skilled hands, she felt a twinge of self-consciousness. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get to their level of mastery, but at least she was going to give knitting a try, ready to start her new creative endeavor.
“Now, here are the needles I have for you. Some nice bamboo ones. They won’t be as slippery as metal ones.” Darlene handed her the needles and then plucked a skein of soft, creamy yarn from the basket in front of her. “And I have this worsted weight yarn. A good yarn to learn with—not too thick or too thin. First, I’m going to teach you an easy cast-on. That’s where you start to put stitches on the needles.”
She watched Darlene carefully as she demonstrated, her fingers deftly moving the yarn and making stitches magically appear on the needle. Then she tried it on her own as Darlene patiently corrected her and soon she had a row of stitches—albeit uneven ones—on the needle.
“That’s enough for a simple scarf,” Darlene nodded. “Now I’ll show you the knit stitch.”
She struggled a bit at first but soon got into more of a rhythm with the movements, and they didn’t feel so strange. Her stitches weren’t as even as Darlene’s, but she kept trying, each row looking marginally better than the last. The friendly buzz of conversation and clicking needles surrounded her as she concentrated on her work. Darlene kept nodding encouragingly at her as her work grew slowly.
“I heard that we’re going to have fireworks again this year at the festival.” Mrs. Thompson’s voice cut through her intense concentration.
Amanda paused, stilling her needles, though Mrs. Thompson seemed quite capable of knitting and speaking at the same time. “We are. We raised enough funds and I’ve got them all ordered.”
“I’m pleased to have fireworks again. It’s been years.” Mrs. Thompson smiled approvingly. “You’re doing a great job with the organization this year. I’m afraid the last few years we just couldn’t get people to volunteer or donate. I’m willing to help with anything you need. Just ask.”
“I’ll help too,” Sally Ann offered.
“Thank you, both of you.” Soon the others were offering up items to be donated to the auction for next year’s festival.
As they all turned back to their work, a sense of belonging crept through her. She looked around at the women, busy chatting and knitting, their needles never pausing. A sense of kinship surrounded the women, a camaraderie that was unfamiliar but something that she craved. Just simple friendship and a sharing of a craft they all enjoyed.
After a few hours, the group slowly disbanded, with everyone heading out. She looked at her slightly lopsided beginning of a scarf and was proud of what she’d accomplished.
“You take that with you,” Darlene said. “And here’s a bag I knit. You can use it to carry your project. If you have any problems, you just drop by here and I’ll help you. And if you come next week, I’ll show you how to purl.”
“Thank you, Darlene. I really had a good time. You have such a nice group of friends.”
Darlene smiled. “I do, don’t I? I’m a lucky woman. And I’m glad you joined us. You’re welcome anytime.”
She headed outside with her knitting project carefully placed in the cute bag Darlene had given her. Hopefully she wouldn’t forget all she’d learned by the time she got home. She’d love to keep going and get a few more inches done on the scarf this evening. But now, she needed to get back to wrapping up details for the festival.
When she got back to her cottage, she set her knitting out beside her favorite chair and went to her laptop to check emails. She clicked through them one by one, jotting notes to herself when needed.
She looked at the next email in surprise. She’d reached out to a friend in New York who’d given her the name of an art critic. Her friend heard the woman was doing an article on regional art shows. Amanda had written to the woman but hadn’t heard back. It was a long shot, anyway.
But here she was, replying. The woman wanted to do a preliminary viewing of the items in the show. She wanted to do a write-up of the show but had a conflict on the actual date of the festival. Pleased, Amanda quickly answered back that it would work. An early write-up might help with promo for the festival too.
Luckily she had most of the artwork staged now in a large room in city hall, waiting to be moved to the pavilion for the festival. She wished she could set up the artwork at the pavilion for the critic, but it really needed to stay inside and protected until the festival. She’d have to make sure everything looked great and the lighting was good.
She finally rose and stretched, walking over to the sink to grab a glass of water. Glancing outside, she saw that Connor’s workshop doors were open. She debated going over there but didn’t like to interrupt his work uninvited.
She hadn’t seen him since the almost-maybe kiss on Saturday. A flutter of insecurity swept through her. Maybe he was avoiding her? Maybe he hadn’t had as good a time as she had? Or he was regretting his decision to go on a date with her?
She turned away from the window, determined not to go over. He could come see her. She didn’t want to look like she was chasing after him…
She settled into the overstuffed chair and picked up her knitting. Soon she was engrossed in her project, the rhythm of the needles and the dance of the yarn feeling more and more familiar as she practiced.
A knock at her door startled her, and she put her knitting down. She walked over and opened the door, pleased and surprised to see Connor standing there. “Hey, you.” A warm smile turned up the corners of his mouth and his eyes twinkled.
“Hi.” Her breath caught.
“Wondered if you needed any help with anything for the festival. I’ve got some free time on my hands.”
“I’m actually pretty well set. If the weather just holds out. That’s one thing I can’t control.”
“It wouldn’t dare rain on your parade.” He winked at her.
Connor Dempsey winked. A smile slipped across her lips. “It better not.”
“So if things are going well and you’re not busy, you want to take a walk on the beach?”
“I’d love to.” She kicked off her shoes, leaving them on the weathered porch steps as they stepped into the late afternoon sunshine.
They headed down to the beach, the powdery sand shifting beneath their feet until they hit the hard-packed sand by the water’s edge.
“This never gets old,” he said, nodding out toward the water. “The view of the waves, the clouds up in the sky, the birds flying past. It’s like a living piece of artwork. When I lived in the city, I felt like all I got were brief, teasing glimpses of the sky.”
“I know what you mean. Bits of sky between all the skyscrapers. Trees just in the few parks scattered around, all boxed in by concrete.” She glanced out toward the horizon where the turquoise water met the blue of the sky, the vastness of it all almost overwhelming her. And the fact that she was here, right now, taking it all in, appreciating it.
“And I admit to liking the sound of the surf better than the honking of cars and the sounds of sirens.” He watched the waves lap at his feet. “It was a good decision for me to move here. To… get away.” He turned back to her and smiled. “Guess I’m just in a reminiscing mood today. How things were, how they are now.”
“It seems like a different world than the one I came from. I’m really enjoying my time here.” And she could barely admit to herself that she’d been thinking about extending her visit. She’d already scheduled two whole months off. What would be left of her business if she took even more time off?
He looked down and gently took her hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They turned and headed down the beach, their steps in sync as the wind gently swept past them. The waves raced up the beach in front of them and washed away their footsteps behind them.
Contentment settled over her at the rightness of her life these days. Life here on Magnolia, with the friends she’d met and with Connor, filled her with a joy she hadn’t known she was missing. With a bone-deep sense of belonging. And with the certainty she was where she was supposed to be right now. She glanced up at him and he smiled back at her. If the man didn’t watch out, his smiling might become a habit.