Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(39)

“I’m sure your mother would have been just as reassuring if she was with you.”

“I miss her every single day,” Megan said. She sniffled loudly. Obviously embarrassed, she searched inside her purse for a tissue. “My hormones are so out of whack these days, I burst into tears at the drop of a hat.” She tried to laugh and only half succeeded.

“I was like that when I was pregnant,” Faith told her. “I can remember watching a rerun of the old Mary Tyler Moore show, the one where Chuckles the Clown dies. Even though it’s a comedy, I was bawling my head off and then all of a sudden I was laughing and crying at the same time.”

“You liked The Mary Tyler Moore Show?” Megan asked, her eyes wide. “My mother and I used to watch it at the care facility. I know exactly which episode you’re talking about. That was Mom’s very favorite show.”

Then, as if she’d suddenly remembered why she was at the fabric store, Megan reached inside her purse and brought out her knitting. “I came here hoping I could find someone to help me with this.” She set her yarn and needles on the table.

Faith saw immediately that Megan had stopped knitting in the middle of a row, never a good idea.

“I’m afraid I dropped a stitch and I didn’t know what to do next.”

“I can help you with that,” Faith murmured, looking at the half-completed baby blanket.

Retrieving a crochet hook from her own knitting bag, Faith captured the renegade stitch and wove it into place. Then she slipped it back on the needle. “There,” she said calmly. “Now you can finish the row. You saw how I did that, didn’t you?”

Megan nodded. “I should probably buy a crochet hook, shouldn’t I?”

“It’s an excellent tool to have.”

“Okay, I’ll do it today. Thank you so much.”

“My pleasure.” Faith glanced down at the pattern book and tried not to think about Troy and how much she missed him.

“Would you…I mean…” Megan looked uncertain. “I realize you’re working at the clinic and you don’t really know me…”

“Yes?” Faith prompted.

“Would it be all right if I came to see you sometime? Not as a patient, though.”

“You mean as a friend?” Faith asked.

Megan nodded eagerly. “Like on your coffee break or maybe even for lunch.”

Faith was in a quandary. If Troy learned about their friendship, he’d assume she’d somehow arranged this because of him. He’d assume she was trying to reconnect with him through his daughter and nothing could be further from the truth.

“Would it be improper?” Megan asked, frowning.

“Not…improper,” Faith said.

“Perhaps we could meet outside the clinic,” Megan suggested, as if she’d stumbled upon the perfect solution.

“We could meet here at the store, I suppose,” Faith said. “I’d be happy to help you with your knitting. This blanket’s an excellent project but I could also show you how to knit booties and a hat for the baby to wear home from the hospital.”

“You could?”

“I…could,” Faith told her. “I have a pattern I use whenever there’s a new baby in the family. We could meet right here at the table they have for classes.”

“That’s great! Thank you, Faith.” Megan paused, a look of concern in her eyes. “Is it okay if I call you Faith?”

“Of course. Faith is just fine.”

They set a date for the following week and Faith wondered—fearing for her own peace of mind—if this was such a smart idea. She hadn’t meant to get involved with Troy’s daughter. Yet, at the same time, Megan was emotionally needy, especially with this second pregnancy so soon after losing the first.

Still, Troy might think—

No. She would not allow Troy Davis into her mind. It was over. If she became friends with Megan, it would have nothing to do with Troy. Megan was her own woman. So was Faith.

When she returned home from the fabric store, Faith made a pot of tea, then sat down in her living room. She’d found a lovely natural-fiber yarn in earth tones and had decided to knit a sample afghan. Eager to start the project, she picked up her needles and the new yarn and was about to cast on stitches when the doorbell rang.

Although it was only a little past four in the afternoon, the day had already grown dark. Faith turned on her porch light and checked the peephole in the door.

And then she saw him.

Troy Davis.

No doubt he’d heard about Megan and Faith meeting and felt he needed to wade right in, making unwarranted assumptions and judgments. If that was the case, and it probably was, Faith didn’t intend to listen. She didn’t require his permission to see Megan.

With reluctance she unlocked the door and opened it. She’d hung an evergreen wreath on the outside, and the scent, with its memories of childhood Christmases, wafted into the room.

Still in uniform, Troy stood there, his hat in hand. “Hello, Faith.”

“Troy.” She nodded, keeping her voice level and cool.

“Can we talk for a few minutes?” he asked when she didn’t immediately open the door.

Without smiling, she unlatched the screen door and he came inside.

She noticed that he’d lost a few pounds since she’d last seen him almost two weeks ago and wondered briefly if he’d been ill. Worried despite her own resolve, she watched him closely—as if she were starved for the very sight of him, she thought with disgust.