Knit Two Together. Connie Lane
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 on. We’re leaving.” Libby swept past her daughter and toward the front door.
“But, Mom!” Meghan dropped the bear and shuffled behind. “We just got here. And it’s not like I want to stay or anything but, gee, it’s only a bear and it’s nothing to get all nuts about.”
No sooner was Meghan out on the porch than Libby closed the front door and locked it. It wasn’t until she pocketed the key and turned to walk down the stairs that she realized there were tears in Meghan’s eyes.
Libby’s heart broke. She reached for her daughter’s hand. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Maybe you were right and I was wrong. Maybe it was a mistake to come here after all.” She took a deep breath. “I thought…”
“I know.” Meghan gave her hand a squeeze. “I mean, I think I get it. Sort of. You thought you wouldn’t care.”
As insights went Libby wondered why she’d never thought of something so obvious herself. “I just didn’t expect—”
“The bear, yeah. So what’s the story?”
Libby had never lied to Meghan about her past. Oh, she didn’t know the whole truth—that would be too much of a burden for any child her age. But when Meghan asked questions about Libby’s childhood and about why Libby had been raised by the Palmers, her father’s parents, Libby had never hesitated to give Meghan as much of the story as would satisfy her. As much as she could handle.
Libby wasn’t about to start playing with the truth now.
“I’m not sure about the bear,” Libby told her. “Not exactly, anyway. But there’s something about him that makes me feel as if I’ve seen him before.” A touch that felt like cold fingers skittered over her shoulders and Libby shivered. “I don’t know,” she said. “I know it sounds weird, but I think he used to be mine.”
CHAPTER 3
They spent the night at an Embassy Suites, far from the dust they’d kicked up at the shop and the forgotten teddy bear that had created an avalanche of emotions that had both surprised and confounded Libby. She wasn’t naive; she knew from the start that going to Cleveland might stir memories of her relationship with her mother. It was, after all, one of the reasons Libby had chosen to come in the first place. But after spending years repressing Barb’s memory and all her energy fighting her emotional response to it, she simply hadn’t expected to be knocked for a loop.
But then, she hadn’t expected to run into the tattered teddy bear either.
Libby dealt with it. If there was one thing she’d learned in the months since Rick confessed to his relationship with Belinda, it was that she couldn’t let her personal pain get in the way of what she needed to accomplish. If she was going to make a new start—and a new life—for Meghan and herself, she had to swallow her misgivings and get on with her plans. Number one on the list was to make Barb’s Knits a viable business and the apartment upstairs a home.
With that in mind, she and Meghan stopped at a grocery store on the way in from the hotel the next morning and loaded up on paper towels and cleaning supplies. They bought a cooler, too, a bag of ice and a twelve-pack of soda. Not so good for Meghan’s teeth but plenty good for parental PR, and after all Meghan had been through lately, it was the least Libby could do.
Back at the shop, she unlocked the front door and pushed it open.
“It smells better than it did yesterday.”
It didn’t; Meghan was only trying to make her feel better. After Libby propped the porch chair against the door to air out the store, she hugged her daughter just to let her know how much she appreciated the moral support.
Though it was early, the sky was gray and the clouds were heavy. As soon as she stepped inside, Libby hoisted the plastic bags of cleaning supplies onto the front counter and reached for the switch to flick on the lights.
Not a single one of them worked.
“And am I surprised?” she mumbled.
Meghan was apparently feeling braver than she had the day before. She headed off to explore. “Are you?” she called over her shoulder from a room off the middle showroom where a round wooden table was surrounded by chairs—and everything was coated in dust. “Surprised, that is?”
“Not even a little.” Firmly ignoring the bear who was lying where he’d been dropped, Libby looked at the dust that covered the counters, the dirt that sat on the windowsills and the faded yarn that was everywhere. It was piled on tables and heaped in baskets. It was mounded on an old mahogany buffet and jammed onto the shelves of a bookcase that took up most of one wall in the former dining room. There was even yarn displayed in what used to be the kitchen. Every cupboard door had been removed and each shelf was filled with wool. Some of it still looked usable. Most of it looked old and sad. None of it looked clean. “Grandma Palmer always said Barb wasn’t much of a housekeeper.”
“Doesn’t that seem bizarre?” Meghan had been looking through an old steamer trunk open on the floor and filled with yarn. The top layer of yarn had once been pastel colors and was now a uniform and dull shade of gray,