Part Six of “The Red Sweater” - A Serial

During the month of April I participated in the A to Z blogging challenge.  A first for me, I attempted fiction for the first time.  I had such fun with it that I decided to give it another go.

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 week.  

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 Six 

Rachel brushed past Roz on the stairs mumbling, “Sorry.”  She fumbled in her purse for the key to her room.  Her hands were shaking as she struggled to get the key into the lock.  Once inside the room, she closed the door and leaned up against it.
It was now dusk.  The window shades were drawn, darkening the room but she did not turn on a light.    Her legs felt rubbery.  She slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.  With a rigid arm on either side of her body, and her palms pressed into the mattress, she tried to steady herself.
She slowly shook her head back and forth and began to cry.  She turned and crawled on all fours up to the head of the bed.  She sank down onto a pillow, pulled her knees up and hugged them tightly into her chest.  She tried to make sense of it all.  She had many questions and most of them began with “why”.
Earlier in the day, mid morning, right after breakfast, Rachel got into her rental car, typed an address into the car’s navigation system and started on her journey.  She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she felt she had no other choice.   The weight of uncertainty was suffocating.  Her episodes of panic and anxiety were becoming more frequent and intense.
Evie told her she was becoming obsessed with the whole thing.
“You should move on, Rach.   Dwelling on the past is not helping.”
She hated when Evie talked about moving on.  What would she know about it?
That’s not fair, Rachel thought.  Evie has been through difficult periods.  She knew her sister was only trying to help.
According to the GPS she would arrive at her destination in less than two hours.  During the first part of the trip she traveled on rural single lane roads.   Under different circumstances she would have been able to appreciate sitings of long neck herons as they skillfully tip toed their way through scenic grassy marshes.
This morning, though, her thoughts were narrowly focused.
Rachel vividly remembered the day she found the document.
It was a Sunday afternoon.  Her mother called to ask if she would help her clean out Rachel’s father’s study.  It had been two years since he passed away.  Actually the day her mother called was the two year anniversary of her father’s death.  With the exception of an occasional dusting, the room had remained exactly as it was when Rachel’s father was alive.  It had been his refuge.
“It’s time, Rachel,” her mother said.  “Evie and Ed are out of town.  It will be just the two of us, I’m afraid,” she added.
The room was small,  but her father had made efficient use of the space.  There were floor to ceiling book shelves along opposite walls.   Two club chairs were placed in front of a double window which looked out onto the street in front of the house.  Her father started out each day sitting in one of the chairs sipping on his coffee. He liked looking out the window, watching the early morning walkers and joggers as they passed by.  His desk and computer were situated along the other wall facing the center of the room.
The two women spent the afternoon sorting through papers they found in her father’s desk.
“What are you going to do with the desk?” asked Rachel.  It was an old worn oak piece.
“I was going to give it to the second hand shop.  You know, the one affiliated with the church.”
Rachel said, “I would like to have it, Mom.”
“This old thing?” her mother exclaimed.  “It’s full of nicks and scratches.”
“I know,” Rachel said.  But, it was Dad’s.  And look, here’s where Evie and I carved in our initials, she said pointing to the side of the desk.”
When her mother tried to open the center drawer, it stuck.
“It seems to be locked,” she said.
“Here let me try,” said Rachel.
Rachel tugged, but it wouldn’t budge.  She pushed it in and then pulled on it again and it gave way.
That’s when she found it.  An envelope, yellowed with age.
“Emma’s Birth Certificate” was hand written on the front of the envelope.  She recognized her father’s distinctive script.
Confused, Rachel’s eyes narrowed,  her brow knitted.  “Who is Emma?” she asked.

Part Five of “The Red Sweater” A Serial

During the month of April I participated in the A to Z blogging challenge.  A first for me, I attempted fiction for the first time.  I had such fun with it that I decided to give it another go.

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 Five 

Evie 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.
“Ed?”
“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. "

Part Two of The Red Sweater Serial

During the month of April I participated in the A to Z blogging challenge.  A first for me, I attempted fiction for the first time.  I had such fun with it that I decided to give it another go.

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:Part One of Six 

The Red Sweater
Part Two 

Evie heard the squeak of the bathroom door and then a thud as it closed.  Those were the two sounds that woke her each morning.
She and Ed have been together for a dozen years. It was a second marriage for both.   
As she found out early on,  he was a creature of habit.   He had his own internal alarm clock, waking up every day at 7:15.   
She yawned and stretched.   She thought about rolling over and going back to sleep, but then she remembered her commitment.  She propped herself up on her elbow and fumbled around for her glasses.   She picked up her phone to check the time.  
How strange, she thought.  It was only 6:15.   More proof that Ed hasn’t been himself lately.  
Something was bothering him.  Whenever she asked him about it, he dismissed it, saying he was feeling a little tired.  
“That’s all it is, really,” he would say. 
The door squeaked again as Ed came out of the bathroom.  
Evie watched as her husband rustled around in his dresser.  
“Ed, why are you up so early?” she asked.
He came over to her and gave her a kiss.  
They used to joke about how he always brushed his teeth before the first morning kiss.  
She called it  his CMF kiss.  “Your breath is so Crest Minty Fresh”, she would tease. 
She noticed he hadn’t brushed today.   
“I have to go into work a little early,” he said. 
“You didn’t get home until 9:00 last night, she said.  “What’s going on?”
“I’m covering for Rachel while she’s out of town,” he said.  “Double the work.”
Rachel and Ed were partners.  They were co-owners of Old & Yew, an antique and yarn shop housed in a long, low cinder block building down by the docks.  
Fifteen years ago Ed lost his first wife, Kathy.   
Kathy and Ed were the original owners of Old & Yew.  
Rachel, an avid knitter and lover of precious bygone era treasures, was not only a steady customer, but soon became close friends with both Ed and Kathy. 
“I felt a warmth of comfort from the first moment I walked into the shop,” Rachel repeatedly told Evie.
She remembered how animated Rachel was when she told Evie all about the shop.
"An old fashioned cow bell on the door announces the comings and goings of customers.
The large space is divided in half with beautiful antiques and unusual vintage items on the right hand side. There are dark walnut breakfronts displaying beautiful old china and crystal.
The drawers of a maple dresser are filled with crisp white linens.  Some are hand embroidered with simple cross stitch designs,” Rachel would say as if in awe. 
"Ed , one of the owners, sits behind an antique case filled with estate jewelry.  He has stories about each of the diamond rings,  ruby pendants and emerald bracelets that he was lucky enough to acquire from Aunt Sadie or Grandma Rose’s collection,” Rachel would breathlessly relate. 
Rachel would be especially tender when talking about the other side of the room.  “That side is Kathy’s creation.  She sectioned off an area by placing old large wooden rockers in a circle.  Rough pine cabinets surround the cozy ring of old chairs. The cubbies are filled with scrumptious fibers wound into rainbow balls.  Loose hanks of shimmering gossamer webs hang from low ceiling rafters,” Rachel would continue. 
“A showcase of lovely scarves, hats, sweaters and shawls proudly made by Kathy’s students are tucked here and there among the displays of yarns, needles and hooks. Knitters and crocheters rock and chat away many a Tuesday and Thursday afternoon nestled in Kathy’s cocoon of peaceful,” Rachel would emotionally say. 
After Kathy passed away, Ed thought about closing up the shop.  
“It’s too much for me,” he told Rachel one afternoon when she stopped in to see how he was doing. 
“There are too many memories here,” he added.
Rachel convinced him to take some time before making a decision.   She began stopping in daily to check on Ed.  
It isn’t clear who had the idea first.  It sort of happened naturally that she and Ed became partners.  
The day that Rachel took over Kathy’s side, Evie knew that Rachel would honor Kathy’s memory by keeping everything the same.  
“It had been a life long dream of Kathy’s,” Rachel said. 
 Rachel soon asked Evie to come in a couple of times a week to lend a hand. 
That’s how Evie and Ed met each other.
“Have you heard from her?” Ed asked, casually. 
Evie said, “I got a text from her saying she arrived and she would call me today.”
“Who is this old friend she is going to meet?”  Ed asked. 
“Someone she went to school with.” Evie answered evasively.  
She didn’t like lying to Ed.  But she promised Rachel she wouldn’t tell anyone where she really was going or why. 
“Do you think you’ll be home in time for dinner?”  Evie asked, trying to change the subject.
“Not sure,” he replied.
“It’s my day to come into the shop, you know,” said Evie.   “Rachel left me a list of things she wanted me to take care of.”
Ed was now in the walk in closet.  Evie could hear clanging of hangers  being pushed along the rack. 
“Ed,” called Evie.  “What are you looking for?”
Just then the phone rang.  It was Rachel.  
Eve answered, “Rachel?”
“Eve,” Rachel said and then hesitated. 
“What is it?” asked Evie.  
“Uh, I was wondering.”  she finally said.  “Has Ed left for work yet?”
“No, he’s right here.  Do you want to talk to him?”
Well, yeah, it’s just shop stuff, though.  I’ll call him later.”
“How are you?”  Evie asked, in an urgent whisper. 
“Something bizarre happened here yesterday.”  Rachel said.  “I knew this was the right place to start.”  
“Look, I just want to know if you are all right,”  said Evie.  “Are you?  Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.  Really, I am.”
“Okay.   Ed is about to leave for work.  I’ll call you in about fifteen minutes.”
Evie hung up the phone just as Ed walked out of the closet.  
“Who was that?”  he asked.  
“Just a wrong number.”  she answered.
“Evie, have you seen my red sweater?”  Ed asked.  “You know, the one that Rachel knitted?”
“I can’t seem to find it,” he exclaimed.