Tight Knit (6 page)

“Come on, Lachlan. I didn’t mean to fall. Don’t be angry with me.” 

I stop and my stomach sinks. The last thing I could ever be is mad at Gram. I lean back to see around the wall that divides the kitchen and living room.

“I don’t think you should shower or bathe unless I’m here, Gram.” 

She makes a funny sound and waves her hand. I set the cup down and move to kneel in front of my grandmother. 

I take her hands in mine and she looks down at me with wide eyes. I don’t make gestures like this often so she better listen. 

“Grandma Georgina, you are the only person I have on this earth. Nothing can happen to you, okay? If something happens to you, I’ll have no one.” 

She pats my hand then takes my face into her hands, as she did when I was a kid. 

“How about we just get some of those old lady railings installed so I have something sturdy to hold onto?” 

I smile. “I can handle that.” 

She rubs my cheek and I go back to making tea. 

~

“So you were planning on giving me shi–um, scolding me for something this morning?” Spending time in Juvie really makes it hard to clean up the language. She doesn’t seem to pick up on it, so I continue. “Let’s just get it over with then.” 

Gram sets her tea down and purses her lips together. Her thinking face makes me nervous so I react like I always do when I’m nervous–I lean back in my chair and act like I could care less about what she has to say. 

“Where have you been sneaking out to? Is it for a girl?” She folds her hands in her lap. 

I play with the bottom of my t-shirt, and adjust the leather band buckled around my wrist. I don’t want to say it’s a girl, because I don’t sneak around for girls, but it would break her heart if I told her I’m indebted to a drug dealer and run narcotics all over the city for them. 

I stretch and put my hands on top my head, the wool hat tickling my fingers.

I think of Hat Girl.

“Yeah, Gram. A girl.” I can’t meet her eyes or she’d know I’m lying. 

“Well I’d like you to break it off with this girl. Any girl who sneaks around in the night is not good for you.” 

I nod and force back a smirk. Next thing she’ll say is to go steady and give my class ring to the head cheerleader. 

“And, you are grounded.” 

This makes me laugh. I look up at her and she’s frowning.

“Gram, I’ve been on Probation for the last two years… It’s pointless to ground me.”

“Right, then. I’m helping Talia plan the Christmas Charity Drive for my knitting club, you’ll help us too. That way I can keep a closer eye on you.” 

I stop laughing, “No way, Gram. I love you, but not a chance.” 

She narrows her eyes and sits up as straight as her crooked spine will let her. Her look of cold disappointment travels the length of me.

“I wasn’t asking.” She tosses the blanket from her shoulders and carries her teacup to the kitchen. 

I nod even though she can’t see me. 

“Yes, Gram.” 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Talia

Now that I don’t have a boyfriend or a best friend, its way easier to go about my days completely unnoticed. After the freak out on day one, I’ve managed to stay invisible all week. I also haven’t had as many panic attacks. It’s like the less I allow people into my life the better I feel. And, I feel okay today. It’s just me and Nan.

I sit at her kitchen island and knit. The only sound in the room is my knitting needles clacking together as I work on my fifth hat this week. I’m hoping to finish one more hat by the meeting tomorrow as well as come up with a really good reason why I can’t plan the charity drive. 

“What do you have there, darling?” Nan asks, leaning over the island. This is the first time she’s gotten off the couch. She’s worn out, I can see it in every movement she makes. She still won’t admit that something’s wrong.

I’m just about to press her for details again but she’s wiggling her fingers. I place my half done hat in her hands and get nervous as she inspects it. I just wish she’d tell me what’s wrong.

“This is lovely. What is it?” She looks over her glasses. She only wears them when she knits. 

I force a laugh.

“It’s a hat, like the other one I showed you. This one has a skull on it, though.” 

“Why in heaven’s name would you put a skull on a hat?” 

“People like it. I have one with a flower too, for those who aren’t into skulls.” 

“I don’t understand how anyone can be ‘into’ skulls.” 

I stand up and pull the edge of my tiny skull covered underwear out of my jeans and Nan presses her lips together and frowns. I laugh and tucked them back in.

“I don’t know, Nan. I just like them, but I only have socks and underwear. I leave the death skulls to the more hardcore.” 

Nan shakes her head and continues to scan the hat.

“This is really wonderful, darling. I’m so proud of what you’ve learned.” 

“I’d like to sell them at the drive. Maybe then someone under the age of 50 will actually show up.” I smirk and Nan sticks her tongue out at me. 

“I think you should. After all, you’re planning it.” 

I blush, I hope I won’t be planning it. I hope that she just gets better and then rocks the show like she always does. 

“Don’t you have to have the work juried?” 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s just a hat, and you are a good enough knitter. But maybe submit the one with the flower for jurying. After you’re accepted you can put whatever your twisted heart desires on the hats.” 

She hands the hat back and heads back to the couch, which is her favorite place to knit. I feel the most calm when I am knitting with Nan. It’s like all the jumbled thoughts move to the back of my brain and I can think clearly. 

But I’m still dreading the meeting tomorrow. 

~

Dad’s home when I wake up on Sunday morning. He’s reading the paper, playing with the side of his glasses. He glances up when I pad into the room. He does that thing with his mouth that looks like it could be a smile, but he’s a lawyer so it’s neutral-looking and I can’t really tell.

I get my cereal and milk and sit down across from him. I’ve never realized how young he looks. He has a full head of thick dark hair, like mine, and there are only a few faint lines around his eyes. 

“So how was your trip?” I ask, still studying his face but this time I’m searching for expression. Particularly a guilty one. 

He looks up with his permanent impartial expression, “Fine. How was your first week of school? I feel bad for missing your first day.” 

I choke on my last bite of cereal. I can’t remember the last time he asked me a question, never mind apologized to me for missing something. 

Sure, if I ramble on about something he’ll listen...kind of, but he doesn’t start the conversations.

“Deacon cheated on me with Janna, so I dumped him and don’t have a best friend anymore. And, a senior at school tried to get me to go on a motorcycle with him. He has tattoos and has been to prison. So all-in-all pretty good.” 

I smile at my dad’s stare of incredulity. It feels good to make a lawyer lose his composure. Although, he’ll probably never ask me another question again. 

“I’m, I’m sorry to hear that. Deacon was a nice kid,” he recovers quickly. He’s a good lawyer.

“Not really if he cheats on his girlfriend, Dad.” 

He frowns like I’m crazy. 

“I guess not.” 

I dump my left over milk in the sink. I hug him quickly and kiss his temple. 

“Nice to have you home, Dad.” 

He forces a confused half smile before going back to his paper. 

~

I ride my bike to the Wool Shop and lock it up in my regular spot. I didn’t bring cookies this week, because...well, because I didn’t want to. I’m not Nan, I don’t have time to bake cookies every week. I asked her to bake them for me when I called her this morning to double check that she was missing another meeting but she said she was tired. She says that a lot now and I am positive that something’s going on that I don’t know about. It’s driving me crazy. She’s not being herself and I’m worried about her. Nan has always been the only thing I
didn’t
worry about.

I push open the door into the familiar warmth of the shop. Immediately I sense something is different. I scan the store, music still blaring though my headphones. I spot the hat first, then the soft curls, then the defined jaw and sharp nose. Lachlan is definitely not movie star gorgeous, but there’s something about him that demands attention. I would be lying if I said I didn’t like looking at him. 

He sees me and grins. His mouth moves, then he gets up and walks toward me. He lifts one ear of my headphones and puts his face close enough to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin. The scent of toothpaste fills my nose and the minty air stings my eyes. 

“Nice to see you again, Talia,” he whispers as I stab at the buttons of my music player, trying to make it stop.

“Good taste, Hat Girl,” he continues. “This band is pretty badass.” 

He replaces the earpiece on my ear and sits back down. All the other ladies are watching me, except Marybeth. Marybeth is glaring. 

I push my headphones down and make my way to the couches in the middle of the room. Nan’s chair is the only one open. Lachlan’s in mine. I glance around the room and most of the ladies have gone back to their knitting or their conversations about knitting, but Marybeth is still glaring. 

“Sorry I didn’t bring the cookies, Marybeth. I just don’t...” 

Lachlan puts his hand out to stop me and points his thumb at Marybeth. 

“She’s pissed that I’m here,” Lachlan says. Georgina reaches out and smacks him with her knitting needle. Marybeth’s glare deepens, and I have to move my eyes away from her so I don’t laugh. I connect with Lachlan’s gaze and he wiggles his eyebrows. My lips stretch into a smile. A real smile. It feels weird, but nice. I would ask if I sound crazy, but according to the doctors, I am.

“Anyways,” he starts, not taking his eyes off me. “I’m only here to say I’ve been bullied into helping with this artsy thing...” 

Georgina hits him with the needle again.

“Okay, Gram, Jeez. I’ve been asked nicely to help you and I came by to say I would be honored to sell your doilies for you.” 

Lachlan leans toward me, his elbows on his knees. He’s thin but muscular, like a hockey player, except I doubt he ever played hockey. He holds his hand out to me and I hesitate before I give him mine. He curls my fingers in his and presses his lips to the back of my hand. 

I will my face to stay its natural colour, but goosebumps spring up along my arms at the light touch of his lips. 

“I’m at your beck and call, m’lady.” His slight accent comes out in full force. He bows as he stands up and lets my hand go slowly, our fingertips sliding apart. “How was that, Gram?” 

She beams at him.  “Be back in two hours so we can make our plans.” 

~

Two hours fly by but I can’t push Lachlan from my mind. The only thing I have the guts to ask is where he picked up that accent. Apparently he’s from Louisiana somewhere. The conversation never went farther than that. I’m confused as to why I want it to go further. I just can’t stop thinking about him.

I drop six stitches and have to start over twice as I show Anna how I do the cabling for the hat I’m working on. I stretch out my fingers then ball my hand into a fist before I continue knitting. The skin on the back of my hand still tingles. I have no idea what is wrong with me. I don’t even like him. He terrifies me more than anything.  And now I have to plan a craft show with him? A craft show I don’t even want to plan. 

The door jingles and so does my stomach. Lachlan sits down in my chair and leans back stretching his arms out and resting them on his head. 

“Times up. Let’s plan a party, Gram.” 

I study Lachlan and the way he slouches in his chair and grins like he doesn’t care about anything, like it’s no big deal he’s here. There’s something off about Lachlan and it tugs at that girly part of me that needs to know, that needs to find out which of the rumors are true and how much of his reputation is based on gossip. 

The other ladies begin to pack up their things and Marybeth glares at Lachlan the entire time she wraps up her yarn. 

I put plastic caps on the tips of my needles, so the yarn doesn’t slip off, and pack up my own things. I pull a notebook from my bag, and Georgina hands me a pen. 

“Okay, so the craft show is the first weekend in December,” I start. My breath catches. That’s not as far as it seems. I crack my wrist a couple times and tap my pen on the paper.

Lachlan groans. I tilt my head to the side. 

Really?

Georgina obviously hadn’t told him that part. But it should be obvious. I glare at him.

“It’s a Christmas charity event. When did you think it would be?” 

He stares. His head angles to match mine and something changes in his eyes. I’m not sure he’s used to being talked to this way. I don’t have time for this. All he has to do is show up and lift some boxes. My eyes flicker to his arms, crossed in front of his chest. I immediately drop my gaze to my notepad. 

The shadows are pressing at the edges of my brain. I tap my pen a few times. 

“Touche, let’s get on with it,” he grumbles.

“Which gives us twelve weekends to get everything done.” That’s really not much time at all. I push air out of my lungs slowly, trying to control my breathing. I can’t panic right now. Not in front of him. 

Lachlan groans again and then bites his lip. His dark eyes flicker as if to say, ‘Ooops’. 

“We have to meet with the director of the show, get our work juried, decide how many booths we want, decide the theme, set a sales goal, volunteer at the Shelter…” 

Lachlan cuts me off. 

“Whoa, back it up, Hat Girl. Volunteer at the Shelter?” 

“Yeah, the contributors are asked to volunteer both time and money. This is the biggest craft event of the year. The Shelter staff are a lot of fun.” I try to sound light but he’s irritating me and it’s causing nervous energy to build inside my mind.