This time I will be writing a serial type of story.
As I meander through my imagination, I expect an episode to take shape in time to be posted each Tuesday.
If you would like to catch up, simply click on the “Red Sweater Serial Tab” at the top of my blog.
The Red Sweater
Part FiveEvie sat on the stool behind the counter, staring into space. She was having a hard time concentrating on the inventory report and there were four boxes of yarn to unpack in the stock room.
Ed had gone out. He told Evie that he was going to take a walk down to Uncle Pete’s deli.
“What would you like for lunch, Eve?” he asked before he left.
He was wearing his red sweater. It was one of Rachel’s creations. He had been in a panic earlier that morning when he thought it was missing. He finally found it hanging on the back of his chair in the study.
Hand knit sweaters, in any shade of red, designed by Rachel was her way of showing affection and appreciation for those she cared most about.
“For my heart’s love” she would say.
Rachel tried to entice Evie to learn to knit. She was a patient teacher.
“I’ll cast on for you,” she would say. “And I’ll even start a few rows,” Rachel said, trying her best to convince her sister.
Then she would hand the ball of yarn and a pair of wooden needles over to Evie.
"Okay, hold the left needle like this. That’s it, wrap your fingers around it and secure the stitches with your thumb. Hold the other needle in your right hand the same way, with your thumb on top.”
Rachel made it look so easy. But when Evie did she felt like she was all thumbs.
Evie remembered when Rachel first took up knitting. It was in the late 70s. Evie was sixteen, Rachel fifteen.
Rachel was trying to think of a unique gift for Sam’s mother, Marge. Well, it wasn’t actually for Marge, but for the baby Marge was carrying.
“I’m going to knit a sweater. A little red sweater for Marge’s baby, she told Evie.”
“You don’t even know how to knit, Rach,” Evie said.
“No, big deal,” she told Evie. “I bought a ‘How to Knit' book. And I used to watch Grandma all the time. Remember the socks she made for us?”
Rachel and Sam were teenagers in love. Marge was like a second mother to Rachel. She could talk to Marge about anything. Not something she could do always with their own mother.
Then one day, Marge, Sam and Sam’s father suddenly left town.
“I don’t understand, Evie,” Rachel sobbed. “Why would they just leave like that? They didn’t even say good-bye.”
She did not want Rachel to be sad. Evie did her best to console her younger sister.
“Come on, Rach, let’s go to the movies.”
Rachel would sigh, “No, I’m not in the mood.”
“Hey, how about if we go to Pinky’s and split a Belly Buster.”
But all Rachel wanted to do was work on the little red sweater. It was to be the first of many she would eventually make to give away as gifts.
And then, years later, fate stepped in.
“I’m back, Eve,” called Ed. “Got your BLT on rye toast, light on the mayo.”
“Let’s sit out front,” said Ed.
They sat in the white slat rockers, quietly eating their sandwiches, each distracted by their own thoughts.
“Huh? What is it?”
“I was thinking that maybe we should take a little vacation.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Eve. Rachel is away. We can’t leave the shop, you know.”
“Eve?” Ed hesitated before saying, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Evie held her breath.
Her phone rang. It was her mother.
“Evie, sweetie? Can you come by later? There’s something I have to tell you. "