Casting About (17 page)

T
rue to my word, Clarissa and I were at Spinning Forward shortly after Aunt Dora opened the door on Friday morning.

“Well, if it isn't our novice knitter,” Dora said as we walked inside. “I imagine you're here to choose your yarn?” she asked Clarissa.

“Yes. Monica said I should start with a scarf.”

“Good idea. It'll work up fast and be something you'll be proud to wear. Okay, first things first. Will she be doing a simple stock-inette stitch?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I think that's the easiest to start with, and she'll get good practice with her knit and purl rows.”

“Right. Well,” Dora told Clarissa. “Now you get to choose your yarn. So why don't you browse and see what you'd like. That's half the fun of knitting. Picking out a yarn you love.”

Clarissa wandered over to the cubbyholes and began fingering various skeins of fiber.

“How's the sweater coming that you're making for her?” Dora whispered to me.

“Not as good as I'd like. I can only knit when she's not around, so she won't see it. I'm hoping to get it about finished while Adam and I are in Augusta.”

“Makes it difficult trying to keep a secret. Are you working on anything else?”

“Actually, no, and I have a great pattern for a diamond leaf scarf, which makes it look lacey. I think I'll make it for Grace for Christmas, so I need to get some yarn today too.”

I walked over to the cubbyholes and found Clarissa holding a skein of the popular fake fur yarn.

“I like this,” she told me.

I glanced at the bright neon purple ball in her hand. “Hmm, that might not be the best choice to start with. It's very thin yarn and a bit tricky to work with when you're just learning.” My eye went to the display of Patons medium-weight yarn and I spied skeins of a gaudy color of grape. “Ah, maybe something from that table over there would be good.”

Sure enough, Clarissa went directly to the purple yarn. “This?” she asked, holding it up.

“Perfect,” I said.

“Okay,” Dora told Clarissa. “You have yourself some nice medium-weight yarn. Now needles. I think maybe a size nine would be good for her to work with. What do you think, Monica?”

“Yes, very good. Not too small or too large. A nine is comfortable to hold. Oh, and we'd better get two skeins of the yarn. One to practice with before she begins the scarf.”

“Good idea,” Dora said as she looked for a pair of size 9 needles. “Wood is probably better for a beginner. Not as slippery as some of the others.”

I returned to the cubbyholes and found some luscious Bonsai yarn in shades of black, gray, and silver that would be perfect for the scarf I'd make for Grace.

“Okay, anything else?” Dora asked as I placed my yarn on the counter.

I glanced around the shop. “Would you like one of those to hold your knitting supplies?” I asked Clarissa, pointing to medium-sized canvas tote bags in various colors.

“Do you have one?”

“I do. They're made at the Canvas Shop out on Twenty-four. Julie did a great job. Mine has a zipper and my initials monogrammed on it. I purchase them to sell here for knitters, and we can have Julie put your name on it.”

“Okay, I'll get one,” Clarissa said, walking over to choose a bright purple tote.

I laughed. “I guess it's safe to say purple's your favorite color, huh?”

Clarissa nodded. “Oh, yes. I love purple.”

“Okay, Dora. I think we're all set.”

She totaled up my sales and then put Clarissa's yarn and needles into the tote for her to carry.

I reached for my small shopping bag of yarn. “Thanks, Dora.”

“You gals have fun knitting. Is that how you plan to spend the afternoon?”

“Yup. We'll have lunch and then I'll teach Clarissa the age-old craft of knitting.”

 

“Are we ready yet?” Clarissa asked as I finished up the lunch dishes.

“Just about. Let me make myself a cup of tea and we'll be all set. How about some hot chocolate for you?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I'm going to take Billie out now so we won't be interrupted doing my lessons.”

I laughed. She was certainly into learning the knack of knitting.

“Okay,” I said, sitting on the sofa with Clarissa pressed tight against me. “First, you have to learn how to cast on. That means getting your stitches onto the needle. There are various ways to do it, but I'm going to teach you the knitting-on method.”

I proceeded to show Clarissa how to knit a stitch, leaving the original one on the needle, and then inserted my left needle up into the new stitch from the front. “See, then you have to slide that stitch back onto the left needle and pull the yarn to tighten it. So now we have two stitches and we just keep doing this until we have the amount of stitches required in the pattern. Here, you try,” I said, passing her the needles.

Straightening her back, she took the needles in her hands. Inserting the right needle into a stitch on the left, she hesitated for a moment. Then she took the yarn to loop around and confidently cast on another stitch.

“Bravo! I think you're a born knitter.”

Her face beamed with pride. “Do you think so?”

“I do. Okay, I'll watch while you cast on about twelve or so stitches and then I'll show how to knit a row.”

I was surprised at Clarissa's dexterity. I remembered being all thumbs when I'd first learned to knit. But she had good control of the needles and continued along.

“Excellent. Now I'll show you how to knit a row.”

I did a few stitches and then passed the needles to her. Again, although slow, she had caught on well.

“Tell you what. You keep knitting a few more rows and I'm going to cast on my stitches and begin working on the scarf for Grace.”

I took a sip of tea and then began my own project. We worked along in silence for a while. I stopped to inspect her work.

“Very good, Clarissa. I think you're ready to learn to purl. When you master that, you'll be ready to start your scarf.”

After watching me for a few minutes, she said, “Oh, this is just like knitting, except it's the opposite way of putting in your needle.”

I smiled. “Exactly,” I said and caught the fact this was the first time she'd referred to it as
knitting.
“Here, now you try.”

I watched her complete a row. No doubt about it. This child was catching on extremely fast.

“Terrific! Do a few more rows of purls and then you can begin your scarf.”

I resumed my own work. “How's Zoe these days?” I asked.

“Oh, she's good. I got an e-mail from her last night.”

“Sounds like she's settled in pretty well at her dad's house.”

Clarissa paused for a moment to inspect her row. “She has. She likes it there a lot. She has a really nice bedroom—almost like mine, she said, and Julie is very nice to her.”

“Oh, that's great. I'm so glad to hear that.”

“Yup, and they're going to have this thing for Julie—something to do with rain or water or something—and Zoe gets to be there too and she's pretty excited.”

I laughed. “Oh, you must mean a
shower.
A baby shower.”

“What's that?”

“Well, it's a party for a woman who's going to have a baby. Everybody brings gifts and there's usually food and cake. It's a celebration to welcome the coming baby.”

I glanced over at Clarissa and realized she'd put her knitting in her lap.

“No wonder Zoe's all excited. That sounds like fun. She said it's going to be at a restaurant.”

“When are they having it?”

“In February, because the baby's coming in April and Zoe said they have to get the room all ready for her brother.”

She remained silent for a few moments and then said, “We have an extra bedroom here at our house.”

Concentrating on my knitting, I mumbled, “Yeah, we do.”

“Well, don't you ever want to have a baby shower, Monica?”

Thrown completely off guard, I was at a loss for words. Was she telling me that she wanted a baby brother or sister too?

“Oh…um…your dad and I aren't sure about that. We've…only been married a little over a year. But…um…who knows.”

Who knows?
Where the heck did
that
come from?

I
awoke a few days later feeling nauseous. Oh, no, was I catching a flu? I stretched my hand across the bed to find it empty. Carefully turning onto my side to reduce motion, I saw the bedside clock read 7:10. Why hadn't Adam gotten me up? It was then I heard the sounds coming from the kitchen—dishes and silverware being rattled. He was tending to Clarissa's breakfast this morning.

Swinging my legs to the side of the bed, I sat for a few moments willing the nausea to disappear, with no effect. Great! Just great! I must have picked up some bug, and we were due to leave for Augusta in ten days.

I slowly stood up, taking huge, deep gulps of air, and made my way to the bathroom. Mouthwash made my mouth feel better, but not my stomach. Letting hot water pour over the face cloth, I took another deep breath and then held it to my face. A little better.

Getting into my robe, I made my way to the kitchen to find Adam and Clarissa seated at the table eating. The aroma of coffee caused me to grip the door frame as another wave of nausea enveloped me.

Adam looked up with concern on his face. “Are you okay?”

I pursed my lips together, refusing to give in to my rolling stomach. “I don't think so,” I said, making my way to a chair. “I think I've caught a bug or something.”

“How about some coffee and toast?” Adam asked, jumping up.

I shook my head. “No. But a cup of tea might settle my stomach a bit.”

Within a few minutes, he placed a steaming mug in front of me.

“There's nothing on your schedule for today, right? You need to spend the day in bed.”

“That might not be a bad idea,” I said, tentatively taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Will you get Clarissa after school?”

“Not a problem. Come on, let's get you back to bed.”

“Have a good day, Clarissa,” I told her, while Adam reached for my arm to help me up.

“I hope you feel better,” she told me as I made my way back to the bedroom.

Adam got me settled in bed, surrounded by pillows, magazines, and my cup of tea.

“Are you sure you'll be okay? I can call my mom or Dora to come and stay with you.”

“Don't be silly. It's just…” Another wave of nausea grabbed me. “Just a little stomach flu.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Okay, well, if you need anything call the school. We'll be home by two-thirty. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Two hours later I was bored leafing through magazines and realized the nausea had subsided. I decided I'd probably feel even better if I took a shower and got dressed.

Wearing a pair of comfortable sweats, I walked into the kitchen and looked around. Adam had done up the breakfast dishes before they'd left. The thought of food didn't interest me in the least, but I thought another cup of tea might keep the nausea away. Turning on the kettle to boil, my eye caught the calendar—
December 1.
December first already? Wait a sec…. I flipped the page back to November and scanned the little blocks. No “p” written in ink. I always kept track of my periods this way. Had done it for years. I must have forgotten with the excitement of Thanksgiving. I then flipped back to October—there was the tiny “p” written in a block for October 28. And according to my usual twenty-eight days that I'd maintained since age eleven, I was due November 25. Six days ago! I was six days late? This had never happened before. Ever. I was on the pill, for God's sake. I couldn't be…I couldn't even bring myself to
think
the word.

The whistling of the teakettle filled the kitchen. Walking over like an automaton, I turned off the burner and placed the kettle on a cork pad. Standing by the counter, I shook my head. This is crazy. I simply
couldn't
be pregnant. Could I?

As usual, I knew only one person could help me figure out my dilemma. I dialed Grace's number and explained I needed to see her.

“You want me to come over there?” she asked.

“If you could. I'm not feeling very well. I hate to make you do this, but it's pretty important.”

“Twila Faye is right here. She can cover the shop for me for a while. I'll be there within twenty minutes.”

How did any woman get through life without a best friend?

 

“Okay, now let me get this straight,” Grace said, bringing her cup of tea to her lips. “You actually think you might be pregnant?”

“I know. It's crazy. I'm on the pill. How could I be? But…I'm six days late and I woke up this morning with horrible nausea. I thought I had a bug, but…I just don't know.”

“Well, I hate to tell ya, girlfriend, but there's plenty of babies out there that can attest to the fact that sometimes that pill fails.”

“Yeah, but that's if the woman forgets to take it or whatever. I didn't do that.”

“I really hate to break your bubble, but I've heard of cases where the woman insisted
she
didn't forget to take them either. Didn't skip one day and yet—nine months later she has a bouncing baby.”

“Oh, Lord! Do you think? Do you think it's possible?”

“Anything's possible.”

I took a sip of the tea that Grace had prepared, momentarily distracted as I savored the pungent taste. “What's this? It's good.”

“Lavender. It's an herbal tea and good for relaxing. I brought it from the coffee shop. You sounded a bit stressed on the phone.”

“Well, Christ, can you blame me? Here I am, going along doing what I'm supposed to be doing, and wham—out of the blue, I could be pregnant?”

Grace let out a deep sigh. “Monica, would that really be so terrible?”

Anger came over me. “Well, how the hell would you know? You've never been pregnant.”

Grace remained silent for a few minutes and then softly replied, “Actually, I have been.”

My head shot up to look at her and I knew from the expression on her face that she was serious. “What?” I whispered. “You never told me.”

She nodded. “I know. I seldom talk about it. It was ten years ago. I was involved in—a relationship.” Staring down at her mug, she went on. “I was almost four months along—and I had a miscarriage.”

“Oh, Gracie.” I reached out to grasp her hand. “I'm so sorry.”

“Well, you know,” she said, “I've always felt those things happen for a reason. I'd already seen an OB guy and was taking very good care of myself. In all honesty, it certainly wasn't planned. I was one of the women who forgot to take my pill for a few days.” She paused and ran a hand through her auburn curls. “I don't even know if it was a boy or a girl. I didn't want to know. It was over. There wasn't a thing I could do about it.”

Despite her attempted bravado, I detected regret in her tone. “But Gracie, you're healthy and only thirty-six—it's not out of the question for you to have a child.”

She laughed, lightening the mood. “Hey, sweetie, you forget there's another part to this equation. A man. And at the moment, I'm fresh out of those.”

I joined her laughter and nodded.

“But you,” she said. “Hell, Monica, you have a husband that absolutely worships the ground you walk on. Adam adores you. Would it really be so bad if you're pregnant? How do you think Adam would feel about it?”

Even without a recent discussion on the subject, I instinctively knew Adam would be over the moon. But he knew my reluctance to having a child and had always been willing to support that decision.

I shrugged. “Probably happy.”

“I think you're right. Look how great he is with Clarissa.”

“Hmm…” was my only response.

“And I never thought I'd say this, but you're turning into quite a good mother to her as well.”

“Oh, I don't know about that….”

“I do. Look how far the two of you have come since she arrived here in April. You're developing closeness, and you know she loves being here with you and Adam. Remember when Billie was lost? You told me you couldn't believe how you felt her pain—you said it was something you couldn't even describe, but it tore
your
heart out to see her so miserable.”

It did, and that emotion had totally surprised me. I had never experienced anything like that for another person before. And the first time she hugged me, sobbing in my arms over the loss of Billie—how natural that had felt.

Leave it to Grace to make me feel better. By the time she left and Adam and Clarissa walked in from school, my nausea had completely disappeared and my emotions were calmer.

I had decided not to mention any of this to Adam. I still needed some time to absorb myself what could be happening.

 

For the next three mornings, I awoke again with the same nausea, only to have it disappear by midday. I still let Adam think it was some kind of bug I'd caught while I tried to figure out what my next step would be. I had decided that if nothing happened by the time we arrived in Augusta, I would purchase a pregnancy kit and share my suspicions with Adam. We could discover the news together.

But that wasn't to be—on the fourth morning, instead of the familiar nausea, I awoke with the distinctive cramping in my lower abdomen, knowing full well there would be no pregnancy kit.

I stayed in bed allowing the cramps to roll over me as I considered the strong sense of letdown I felt. A sense of loss for something I never had—I hadn't been pregnant at all. For whatever reason, I'd simply been late. But for the first time in my life, I had given serious thought to the possibility of bringing another life into the world.

I glanced over at Adam, soundly sleeping beside me. His handsome face was covered with peacefulness and I reached out a finger to stroke his cheek, causing him to stir. I felt a surge of love move through my body as I thought about creating another human being that would be a part of both Adam and me and the love that we shared.

There would be no pregnancy test while we were in Augusta—but there would definitely be a serious discussion with my husband.