We Can Forever (Silent Journey #1)

Chapter 1 – Hannah

Chapter One

HANNAH

“ H old the door!”

I freeze, halfway to letting the front door to Knit Happens close, and look down the street. A figure runs along the sidewalk, bathed in the glow of another gorgeous Maine sunset.

Squinting, I try to figure out who it is. I don’t have to wonder for long, though.

Jenny slows to a jog, breathing heavily, and grins at me. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I made it in time. Please tell me. Can I get some yarn? Please, please, please?”

She clasps her hands together and bats her eyelashes at me. It’s a funny and awkward sight, seeing a woman who has to be around forty putting on such a show, and all I can do is laugh.

“Yes, of course.” I hold the door open for her. “I’m not saying no to one of my best customers.”

“You’re a lifesaver, girl. Thank you so much.” Jenny scurries into the shop, and I shut the door behind us then flip the sign to closed.

“I’ve never heard about yarn saving lives, but there’s a first time for everything.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise.” She purses her lips and studies the rows of wool skeins. “I just need a bit to finish the scarf I’m making for Rose’s teacher. It’s her birthday tomorrow.”

“That’s sweet.” I’ve never met her daughter, but Jenny talks about her every time she’s in here. The fact that she’s obviously such a good mom always warms my heart.

“Found it.” Jenny selects a red skein and then watches me arrange some folding chairs in a circle. “Do you have something going on here tonight?”

“Yeah, it’s a…” I wipe my hands against my jeans, suddenly nervous. “It’s a meeting. A little crafting group.”

A lump forms in my throat. I know there’s nothing to hide, but at the same time, I’m praying she doesn’t ask any more questions.

Thankfully, she turns to face the register. “That’s nice. We need more things happening on this island. It’s slow as molasses sometimes.”

I step behind the register to ring her up. “That’s the appeal, though, isn’t it?”

“I guess.” She fiddles with one end of the wool. “I can only imagine it’s why you moved here, right? To get some peace and quiet?”

“Yeah,” I agree, though there’s more to it than that.

When I saw the picture of this empty storefront online, it called to me in a way nothing ever had before. Even from all the way in Portland, Oregon, I knew I’d found my shop—a place for my dreams to take flight.

“I’m so glad you came.” Jenny hands me some cash. “The shop is amazing, and we all love having you here so much. I hope it’s not too small-town for you. I know people can really get into everyone’s business around here…”

I hand her the change, wondering why she’s in such a talkative mood. She’s always friendly, but it seems like nerves are running her tongue tonight.

The front door opens, and Flick enters the shop. She’s still wearing her canvas work apron, and her long, dark brown hair is pulled back in a messy bun. I give her a quick wave, but since Jenny hasn’t stopped to take a breath, I have no time to say hello.

“…It can get lonely here too. There are some really nice men, though. Are you single?” Jenny cocks her head at me.

The question nearly makes me lose my balance. “Am I…uh…”

Flick steps up to the counter, and I can already tell what that glint in her eyes means. Though we’ve only known each other for a handful of months, Flick and I were basically best friends from day one, and we can read each other like a book.

“She’s single,” Flick announces. “Very, very single.”

When I narrow my eyes at Flick, it’s half in playfulness, half in annoyance. “Thank you,” I say, making my tone as dry as possible. “Would you like to add another ‘very’ on to that?”

She laughs. “Nah, I’m good.”

Jenny raps the counter in excitement. “Excellent! I have the perfect guy for you! Oh, wait—are you into men? I should have asked first.”

My cheeks warm. “Yes, I like men.”

I just haven’t had much to do with them in years. Not because I don’t appreciate them, but because life has a way of pumping the brakes sometimes, whether we like it or not.

“Who is he?” Flick leans her elbow on the counter and turns to face Jenny, transfixed.

“Michael. My brother.”

“Oh.” Flick’s eyebrows shoot up, but I can’t tell what that means.

“He’s really sweet,” Jenny says.

“Handsome, too,” Flick adds with a wink at me.

“Um. Okay.” I lick my lips, my heart racing. This isn’t at all what I was expecting tonight, and it’s starting to get a little overwhelming.

“He does have a kid.” Jenny studies me. “So, if that’s a deal-breaker?—”

“It’s not.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love kids. I don’t date much, though. I’m kind of out of practice.”

“Then you’re perfect for him.”

My belly warms. I haven’t even considered dating in a while, but the thought of spending a romantic evening with a man is tempting…

“What does he look like?”

Jenny shakes her head. “I can’t tell you that. Blind dates always work the best when you don’t know that much about the other person. Are you free tomorrow night?”

I gulp. “Sure.”

“Yes!” Jenny’s arms shoot high into the air, her jacket sleeves sliding down to reveal the black floral tattoos dotting her skin. “You eat pizza, right? He’ll come pick you up here at seven.”

I cut my gaze to Flick, hoping she’ll come through with some details. Going into situations blindfolded doesn’t work well for me. It’s best to have all the information I can, because that’s how I manage my energy and my symptoms. I need to know the factors that will affect my day, because otherwise, things can get very bad, very fast.

“You’ll love him.” Jenny grabs her skein and walks backward toward the door. “I promise.”

There’s no chance for me to say anything else, because a second later, she’s out the door. There’s also no chance for me to grill Flick on Michael, because not two seconds later, the door opens again and two women enter.

“Hi.” One of the women, a brunette with bright-green eyes, looks hesitantly between me and Flick. “Is this the Chronic Pain Crafting group?”

“Yes, it is.” My heart does a flip. I’ve been so worried that no one would show up for the first meeting, I’m in danger of crying tears of happiness.

“Oh, good.” The other woman, whose straight dark-blonde hair hangs down her back, smiles at us. Her makeup is impeccable, and her nails are long and perfectly manicured.

Not only am I happy they’ve arrived, I’m also glad for the distraction. The thought of going on my first date in five years is enough to make me break out in hives.

“Please, have a seat.” I gesture at the circle where I’ve placed eight folding chairs, borrowed from the church down the street.

The other three take their seats while I finish setting out the water bottles and snacks. My hands shake slightly, and I do my best to calm my nerves. Tonight is so much bigger than just meeting other women with chronic pain—although that’s also something I’ve wanted to do for a while.

What I said to Jenny earlier about yarn never saving lives was only partly a joke. Crazy as it is, yarn did kind of save mine.

Well, knitting did, more specifically.

During those weeks following my breakup with Paul five years ago, I spent hours each day on the couch at my aunt’s house, knitting and purling through all the pain and worries. Every stitch cleared my head a little more, and whenever I finished a project, I saw confirmation that, despite the challenges in life, I could still persevere and create worthwhile things.

I want to share that with others—not just in classes for all adults and kids, but also for people living with silent and chronic illnesses.

People like me.

Today, finally, is my soft launch. The first notch in my belt that will be followed by more classes and—hopefully—funding from the state to cover my store hours so I can keep doing this.

Taking a seat on one of the cold, hard chairs, I place my hands on my knees. I’ve prepared a script for tonight, and thank God for it. Even though I’ve been on Pine Island for about half a year, my haunts are still exclusively Knit Happens, my house, and the grocery store.

When it comes to people, my interactions are limited to discussions about the best kind of needles for different projects and what the fresh catch of the day is.

“Welcome, everyone.” My voice catches, and I clear my throat. “Thank you for coming. I would love it if we could all introduce ourselves by saying our names, our preferred knit craft, and, if you want, your illness. I’ll go first.”

The silence in the room is deafening, and even though only three sets of eyes are on me, I feel as if I might buckle under the weight of them.

But then I remember why we’re here tonight, what joins us all together, and strength surges through me. “I’m Hannah. I love making amigurumi, and I have fibromyalgia.”

The second the last word leaves my lips, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. I don’t usually talk about my illness, but naming it in front of these people, even though two of them are strangers, is so freeing.

The other women are nodding and giving me sympathetic looks, and I can tell that I won’t need to explain fibromyalgia to them. They already know about the pain, the fatigue, the having to constantly measure how much energy you have so that you don’t overexert yourself and end up in the middle of a flare before you can even process what’s happening.

Taking a deep breath, I let the warmth rush through me. Two minutes into this meeting and I know for a fact that starting it was a good choice.

“Hi, I’m Flick.” She waves at the two women whose names we haven’t gotten yet. “I have rheumatoid arthritis, and I’m a yarn dyer. I work out of my condo here on the island. My favorite knitting project? Hmm, let’s see… I’ll have to go with the good ole classic scarves.”

We look at the brown-haired woman, who is probably about thirty and has her hands folded between her knees. “I’m Maya. I work at Hamilton Elementary. I teach art. I have lupus.”

“What’s your favorite knit craft?” Flick asks.

“Oh. Uh, I’m not sure. I’ve never done anything like this. I do nearly every other medium in my classes, but not knitting or crochet. Alexis told me about this, and I thought it sounded like fun.”

“Hi. I’m Alexis,” the other woman, who I guesstimate is in her midthirties, says. “I’m a remote food writer with interstitial cystitis. I knitted some socks in high school and they turned out pretty awful, so I’d love to take a second go at them.”

We all chuckle, and it’s as if the air in the room sparkles with opportunity and hope. It’s been hard the last six years, ever since I started having the symptoms that would end up changing my life. To call these diseases we all have “invisible” is only the tip of the iceberg. Receiving a diagnosis is one step in the journey. After that comes all the other ways that society and people can overlook you, all the ways that they can diminish your experience or call you a liar—either directly or through suggestion or a certain look in their eye.

Being here, in this room with women who I know for a fact see me… It means more than I can put into words.

Before the emotion can spill out of me in the form of tears, I clap my hands together. “Right. So, I figured we could start with a sort of ‘how-to’ knit class tonight. If you’re already comfortable with knitting, I have some designs I pulled out that you can take your pick from.”

We get to work, selecting our projects and tools. The chatter in the room rises, and the next thing I know, we’ve moved our chairs closer together and there’s never a beat of silence.

“Dessert hummus,” Alexis is telling Flick, while she casts on some orange yarn. “Everyone is crazy about it now.”

Flick makes a face. “Like, chocolate hummus?”

“Oh yeah. And other kinds too.”

I study Maya’s needles, where she’s making great progress starting her first-ever scarf. “I used to teach, too,” I tell her.

“Oh, really?” Her eyes light up. “Where?”

“Back in Oregon. I stopped because it got to be too much with my symptoms. I started doing tutoring online, and then?—”

“You ended up here.”

“Exactly,” I laugh.

She gives me an appreciative look. “I’m glad you did. And I’m glad you started this group. This island is so small. I would have thought no one here but Alexis would understand what it’s like, you know, living this way.”

I nod. “It feels lonely sometimes.”

“Yeah,” she says softly, lowering her eyes.

“Hey, Maya.” Flick turns to her. “You teach at Hamilton, right? Do you know Michael Greer? He has an eleven-year-old daughter. I don’t remember her name…”

My heart rate picks up. So, Michael’s kid is eleven?

I try to glean some information from that little nugget, but it doesn’t tell me anything. I love kids but have never dated anyone with them, so I don’t really have a daily look into what parenting is like.

“I know who he is.” Maya puts her knitting in her lap. “He grew up on Pine Island and just moved back. I’ve never talked to him, though. We haven’t had the autumn parent-teacher conferences yet. Katie is a great kid, though. And…” She smiles shyly. “The other teachers say that Michael is easy on the eyes.”

“Hannah has a blind date with him,” Flick says.

Alexis gasps, and suddenly, all the attention in the room is on me. I shrug, doing my best to keep my hands moving. I’ve dropped yet another stitch, though—my fifth one.

Just how attractive is Michael? What if he’s out of my league? Not that I’m ugly—I mean, I don’t think—but I also don’t think I’m anything to write home about.

“Sorry,” Flick whispers to me, as the other two start a conversation about their knitting. “I shouldn’t have announced that.”

“No, it’s okay.” I shake my head. “I’m just… I haven’t been on a date in a long time.”

“I know.” She gives me a sympathetic look. I’ve told her all about Paul and how I’ve been too busy to date since him.

“What if it’s just a mess?” I sigh. “What if?—”

“If it’s a mess, then you send me an SOS text, and I’ll call you with some sort of yarn-based emergency that you need to attend to immediately. Like a crate of vicu?a just became available and we have to go to the wholesale store and wrestle the other vendors for it. And if all goes well…that’s a good thing.”

“Is he really that hot?” I whisper. “How hot is he? On a scale of one to ten?”

Flick takes my knitting out of my hands. “I’m not going to answer that because I don’t want you to work yourself up even more. Just know that you deserve someone hot and kind and good to you, and dating is the way to get there.”

I take my knitting back from her. “Thank you.”

She stares me down. “Remember how nervous you were about tonight’s meeting?”

“Of course.” I was barely able to sleep for weeks leading up to it.

“And look how well it’s going.”

I glance at Alexis and Maya, who are admiring each other’s work. A smile pulls at my lips. Flick is right. I was super anxious about tonight, and despite that, everything turned out great.

So maybe tomorrow’s date will be the same.

Either way, at least I’m going for it. I’m taking the plunge and getting outside my comfort zone. And if I do something embarrassing on the date and fall flat on my face, I can always come back to the shop and bury myself in a mountain of yarn skeins.