The Sweethearts’ Knitting Club (3 page)

That love led them to start the Sweethearts’ Knitting Club the very same year her mother posed for the photograph. The genesis for the club came from the fact that as part of a romantic Twilight tradition, both Marva and Lynn had married—and stayed wedded to—their high school sweethearts. They formed a knitting club among other women who could claim the same thing.

Twilight was founded on the Brazos River in 1875 and today it functioned mainly as a regional tourist destination. To keep a steady influx of cash pouring into a town that claimed a permanent population of just under six thousand, a cottage industry had sprung up around a local legend whose authenticity was the topic of heated debate.

The prevailing legend, among the romantics, involved two teenage sweethearts separated during the Civil War. Jon Grant had been a soldier for
the North; Rebekka Nash, a sweet Southern belle. Circumstances tore them asunder, but they never stopped loving each other. Fifteen years later, they met again at twilight on the banks of the Brazos in the same spot where the town now stood.

In the early 1900s a statue in the lovers’ honor had been erected in the park near the town square. Rumor had it that if you threw pennies into the park’s fountain, you’d be reunited with your high school sweetheart. Whether it was true or not, the legend worked. Twilight was officially nicknamed Sweetheart Town in the
Fort Worth Star-Telegram
in 1910, and there’d been a steady influx of romance-related tourism ever since. Many reunited high school lovers came to Twilight to get married under the Sweetheart Tree, and in fact Belinda Murphey, one of the other ladies of the knitting club, ran a thriving matchmaking business focusing on helping people reconnect with long-lost loves.

“Once you and Beau are hitched, you’ll be an official member of the club,” Terri said. “Having qualified by marrying the only man you’ve ever really loved.”

Thoughts of Jesse circled Flynn’s head again. Why was he on her mind so much today? She hadn’t thought about him in ages…well, except in an occasional lusty dream. She slid a stealthy glance over at Patsy, who sank down in her designated rocking chair near the television set. She was startled to find the older woman glaring at her.

Unnerved, Flynn snatched her gaze away.

“Wow, you’ve made a lot of progress since last week,” Terri said, plucking up the afghan Carrie
had knitted for Flynn and studying the needlework. “How do you find the time? Running Froggy’s, looking after your dad and Carrie and the twins, keeping house, dating Beau…”

“Idle hands,” Flynn said, and reached for the afghan. She clutched it to her chest. She didn’t want anyone looking too closely. “With the twins away at basketball camp in Iowa for the entire summer, I’ve got some extra time on my hands.” That was true enough.

“You’re getting really good.” Terri nodded in approval. “I love this pattern. When did you learn to do that stitch?”

“Oh, you know,” Flynn shrugged. She hated lying, but she’d been pretending for so long, how did you just suddenly come out and confess that you were a fraud?

“Your mother would be so proud.”

Guilt stabbed her. This was her secret shame.

The lie had started innocently enough not long after her mother received the crippling blow that she would be slowly wasting away until she died, losing her abilities to do all the things she enjoyed most. Combing her daughters’ hair, cooking her husband’s dinner, rocking her twin sons, knitting crafts for family and friends.

Her mother had been hands-down the best knitter in the county. Some said even the whole of Texas. She’d won the state fair competition three years running.

Flynn had been thirteen at the time and her mother had been trying for almost a year to teach her how to knit. Flynn couldn’t seem to wrap her head around it. Knitting was tedious, not relaxing
as her mother claimed, and when it came to yarn, all ten of Flynn’s digits turned into clumsy thumbs. But more than anything else in the world, she’d wanted to please her mother, so she kept trying.

One day, while Flynn was in the bedroom she’d shared with Carrie, knitting needles clutched in her hands like handle bars, yarn in her lap, cussing up a blue streak because she couldn’t make it work, Carrie got up off the floor where she was coloring and walked over. She took the knitting needles and yarn from Flynn’s hands, sank down on the bed beside her, and just went to town.

Flynn’s mouth had dropped open. “How…how’d you learn to do that?”

Carrie had given her an it’s-no-big-deal shrug. “I watched Mama showing you how to do it.”

“You…you’re a natural.”

“It’s easy.”

Flynn had wanted to slap her. “Does Mama know you can do this?”

“Naw, if I told her she’d pester me to do it all the time like she does with you.”

“I’ll pay you to knit something for me.”

Carrie looked surprised and pleased. “Ten bucks.”

“Done.”

Carrie had knitted her a scarf. Flynn had presented it to their mother as her own work. Lynn had been overjoyed that she’d finally gotten through to her oldest daughter. She called all her friends and bragged up a storm. Carrie bought a bagful of candy with her money and a copy of
Teen Beat
.

And so Flynn’s big fat lie began.

When it came to the Sweethearts’ Knitting Club,
she was a fraud in every sense of the word. She didn’t know how to knit, and while she’d dated Beau in high school, he hadn’t been the one she’d first given her heart to. If these women knew her secrets, they’d boot her right out of the knitting club that her own mother had started.

The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of more Sweethearts. Flynn got up to answer the door. Raylene Pringle waltzed over the threshold. Raylene had been a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader back in the Tom Landry/Roger Staubach days and she still dressed the part even though she was rapidly approaching sixty. White knee-high boots, blond hair teased big, false eyelashes, short skirt, an expertly hand-knitted Dallas Cowboys sweater vest, and lots of flashy attitude. She and her husband, Earl, ran the Horny Toad Tavern down off Highway 377.

“Hey y’all,” she called.

“Belinda’s not with you?” Flynn asked, checking the front porch to see if Belinda had lingered to smell the honeysuckle. Usually Belinda and Raylene carpooled together because they both lived in Rio Vista Estates on the other side of the dam.

“One of her kids is sick.”

“Which one?” Patsy asked.

Raylene waved a hand. “How should I know? She’s got too many to keep track of.”

“Is it Kimmie, Kameron, Karmie, Kyle, or Kevin?”

“Kameron maybe.”

“What’s wrong with the kid?”

“She’s throwing up.”

“Then it’s not Kameron. Kameron’s a boy.”

“Whatever.”

“Was it Kimmie?”

“Why do you care?”

“How can I send the child a get well card if I don’t know which one it is?” Flynn asked.

“She’s a kid, she’ll be well tomorrow, and if you sent her a card she’d probably just eat it and throw up all over again. Save your money.”

“Or just send her a funny e-mail,” Terri suggested.

“How can I do that when I don’t know the kid’s name?”

“It was Karmie,” Raylene said.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Now was that so hard?” Flynn asked.

“Guess what?” Dotty Mae said as Raylene set down her knitting bag near her rocker.

“Dotty, we’re too old for guessing games. You got something to say just spit it out.”

“Flynn’s engaged to Beau.”

Raylene’s eyebrows shot up. “No, really?”

“She hasn’t said yes yet,” Marva said.

“Oh, so nothing’s changed.” Raylene plunked down, crossed her legs at the knee.

“It’s different this time,” Terri added. “He gave her an ultimatum.”

“No shit? Whatcha gonna do, Flynn?”

“I’m going to go get the tea,” Flynn said.

“But you will say yes.” Marva nodded, getting up to follow Flynn. Once she was in the kitchen, she hoisted the tray of finger sandwiches to help serve. “Beau adores you.”

“What in the heck
is
holding you back, honey?”
Raylene called from the living room. “That man is delicious. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

“What would Earl have to say about that?” Patsy asked.

“Oh, you know Earl.” Raylene waved a hand. “I could shave my head bald and walk through the house stark naked and he wouldn’t blink twice.”

“Don’t forget you’d have to have Kathryn Trainer for a mother-in-law,” Terri pointed out.

“Ugh,” Raylene said to Terri. “Maybe that’s why Flynn’s said no all these years.” Then to Flynn she said, “You got a beer, honey? I’m not in the mood for tea. Earl and I had a knock-down-drag-out and I need to let off some steam.”

Flynn rolled her eyes at Raylene’s dramatics and bit down on her bottom lip to keep from saying something snarky. “We don’t keep alcohol in the house.”

“Oh yeah, since your daddy got dried out. I forgot.”

“Earl?” Patsy raised an eyebrow. “A knock-down-drag-out?”

“Okay, it was more like I pitched a hissy fit and he ignored me, but you get my drift. He refused to buy me a mink stole for my birthday. Cheapskate. Like he’s not sitting on a big pile of his granddaddy’s oil money. I gotta go around with the last name of Pringle, least he could do is make sure I had a stole to keep me warm.”

“Good grief, Raylene, what do you need a mink stole for? It’s Texas,” Patsy said.

“You sound just like Earl.”

“And it’s the twenty-first century,” Terri added. “It’s not politically correct to wear fur.”

“
Phttt
.” Raylene gave a one-fingered salute. “That’s what I think of political correctness.”

“More tea, anyone?” Flynn interrupted before a knock-down-drag-out occurred in her living room. Terri’s temper could escalate as quickly as Raylene’s.

Raylene held out her cup. “Dotty Mae, you got any of that peppermint schnapps in your purse? That oughta fix this tea right up.”

The women ate and chattered and then got down to serious knitting and even more serious gossiping about what was going on in Twilight. As she did at every meeting, Flynn stayed on her feet making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink, then she bustled around cleaning things up. She sat a time or two and pretended to knit, but luckily her role as hostess gave her an excuse to flit.

“So Flynn, how are plans coming for the Yarn Barn?” Marva asked toward the end of the evening as everyone was packing up her knitting supplies.

“I haven’t found the property that both meets our needs and is something I can afford,” she answered, stacking teacups on the serving platter now littered with sandwich crumbs.

“Oh”—Terri waved a hand—“you won’t have time for that once you’re married to Beau. He’ll have you popping out babies lickety-split.”

“I’m not a toaster,” Flynn said. “I don’t pop.”

“Your biological clock
is
ticking, dear,” Dotty Mae threw in.

“Whose side are you on?” Usually Dotty Mae was all for women waiting until they got their careers established before having babies. She’d had her two sons when she was in her late thirties after
she’d become the first female department head of Montgomery Ward.

“Well dear, waiting tables at Froggy’s isn’t exactly a career and you are so good at taking care of people. I’m sure Terri just assumed you’d be eager to start your family once the nuptials were over.” Dotty Mae tried to smooth things over.

“I’m starting the Yarn Barn. That’s going to be my career.”

“Oh,” Dotty Mae said. “Well then, never mind.”

Raylene rubbed her hands gleefully. “We’re taking sides? I’m in. Popping out babies?” She mimed a chopping motion. “Way overrated.”

“You only say that because Earl Junior turned out to be such a turd,” Patsy said. “I still can’t believe that boy didn’t even call you on Christmas.”

“Well at least he didn’t end up in prison like someone’s surrogate son,” Raylene sniped.

The entire room inhaled sharply. And everyone looked anywhere but at Patsy. No one ever mentioned Jesse in front of her.

“For the sake of our friendship I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Patsy straightened her shoulders. “My nephew was wrongly accused. He’s innocent.”

“Yeah, just like he was innocent of blowing a hole in the Twilight Bridge with that M80.”

Jesse
had
been guilty of blowing a hole in the old wooden suspension bridge. Flynn had been there when he’d done it. She still remembered the illicit thrill she’d felt when he’d grabbed her hand and they’d jumped off the bridge together just as the potent firecracker had erupted behind them in a shower of sparks.

“You know what?” Flynn said. “It’s getting really late.” She faked a yawn, stretched.

Everyone got the hint and headed for the door.

“Tell Beau yes,” Terri said on her way out.

“But tell him he has to wait to set a date until you get the Yarn Barn going,” Dotty Mae said, clearly trying to make amends. “He can’t tie you up until you’ve tied that up.”

Precisely her thoughts. Tired of being subtle, Flynn made shooing motions. “Night all.”

“G’night.”

“Take care.”

“Tell your father we asked after him.”

Yes, yes, go, go
. “Will do.” She pasted a smile on her face.

“Honey,” Marva whispered, leaning in close. “Seriously, don’t make the mistake of letting Beau get away. You could be living in the biggest house in Twilight.”

“Yes, because hey, it’s all about the size of the house, right?”

Marva gave her a strange look, and Flynn smiled wider to prove she was only kidding.

The minute they were all out, Flynn locked the door and sank against it, both physically and mentally drained. Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed. Why the hell had Beau picked today to issue his ultimatum? Why couldn’t he have waited until…

When? When would be a good time for your boyfriend of ten years to demand you make a permanent commitment to him or walk away forever?

What was the matter with her? Beau was perfect.
Every woman’s dream. He was rich, good-looking, patient, and…

Okay, all right, the problem was all her. She was a commitment-phobe and she was damn lucky Beau had put up with her this long. But finally he’d had enough and he’d given her twenty-four hours to make up her mind.