Blossom Street Brides (Blossom Street #10)(82)

Again, she was at a loss. “I … I don’t know.”

“Would you like me to go away for a while?”

She swallowed hard. “Perhaps that would be for the best. I need time to think this through.”

“How much time?”

She couldn’t answer that. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll tell you what,” he said with a sarcastic edge. “I’m going to conveniently get out of here and give you all the time and the space you need. Just let me know when you’ve made up your mind about us.”

That seemed the best option.

“I only ask one thing.”

She waited.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know, after these last few days,” he paused, “if you’re pregnant.”

She nodded. “I should know within a couple of weeks.”

He held her gaze for one long, intense moment and then walked out the door.

It took a few minutes for the shaking to start, and when it did, Lauren collapsed onto her sofa. This wasn’t what she wanted, either, but now Rooster was gone and she was even more confused about their future than ever.

Chapter Thirty

Knitting is a series of small steps, lovingly worked one stitch at a time on the path to becoming something tangible and cohesive. At the beginning you may fear that you are doing it wrong, but keep working through that fear. Sometimes the bigger picture isn’t apparent until you reach the end of your journey.

—Michelle Miller,

Fickle Knitter

Lydia planned to open the yarn store Saturday morning and stay only a couple hours.

Cody’s baseball game was scheduled for one o’clock, and there was a possibility her mother would be able to come home from the nursing facility later in the afternoon after the fall that had broken her arm. Casey was with Mary Lou now, as she had been every day since her grandmother had taken the tumble. It was discovered later that Mary Lou had suffered a minor stroke, resulting in the fall.

Margaret was scheduled to work that afternoon and would close the shop at five-thirty.

Lydia had just turned over the OPEN sign and had started to straighten out the window display when her first customer of the day arrived. It was Evelyn Boyle.

“Morning, Lydia,” Evelyn said as she strolled into the shop. Whiskers didn’t stir from the front window as the bell chimed. The cat had grown fat and lazy, which wasn’t all that different from every other cat Lydia had ever owned.

“Hi,” Lydia said, greatly relieved to see the other woman, especially now, when she could talk freely without fear of Casey overhearing the conversation. In fact, it was probably for the best that her daughter knew nothing about Lydia meeting with the social worker.

“I’m circling back to see how everything is going since I last talked to you about Casey,” Evelyn stated.

“On your day off?” Lydia teased. Evelyn was like a mother hen looking after her baby chicks. She sincerely cared about the children who were on her caseload and, more impressively, even those who’d been adopted or turned eighteen and were no longer wards of the state.

“I heard about your mother,” Evelyn said. “I stopped by earlier in the week while you and Margaret were at the hospital and left you a message.”

“I got it, and I meant to get back to you, but it’s been a bit hectic this week with Mom in the hospital.”

Evelyn’s concern was evident in the way her forehead creased with worry lines. “How’s your mother doing?”

“Fairly well. Her blood sugars are good, and for a time that was a big concern. The stroke did some damage, but, thankfully, nothing permanent. A few weeks of physical therapy will help. It’s amazing how resilient she is. Her left arm is in a cast, and it’s cumbersome for her, but she’s managing.”

“And Casey?” Evelyn asked. The crease lines on her forehead thickened. “How’s she doing?”

Lydia’s spirits sank as her own worries came front and center. “Not so great, I’m afraid. When we got the news that Mom had fallen, Casey came unglued. I don’t know when I’ve ever seen her more upset. It took Brad and me and Cody to calm her down.”

“Is she better now?”

“Yes, but she spends every available moment with my mother at the nursing home. Mom was in the hospital the first couple days and then transferred to the nursing facility,” Lydia explained.

“What’s happening with the nightmares?”

“They’re not improving. If anything, they’ve gotten worse.” Much, much worse, in fact, especially in the last week.

“By worse you mean more frequent? Lasting longer?” Evelyn inquired.

“More frequent,” Lydia explained. “She’s woken us up three times this week, screaming and trembling.”

“And she still refuses to tell you about the dream?”

Lydia’s heart clenched. “Not a word. If you have any advice, I’d be more than grateful to get it.” When it came to Casey and her dreams, the entire family was willing to do whatever was necessary to help the teenager overcome this psychological speed bump.

“Like I explained when you first mentioned it, these dreams aren’t unusual for a teenage foster child.”

“Casey has been adopted.” Casey was no longer a ward of the court. She was an important part of their family.