Chapter Eighteen: Kelsey

Since Andrew was given the seal of approval to go back to light work, he’d been spending his mornings on the farm and his afternoons at the construction site for his new home. I joined him most of the time, unless I was too tired. Sometimes, the early mornings were too much, and I needed just a few more hours, then I’d drive myself to the farm.

I found I really enjoyed riding across the sprawling land. I wished it had been on horseback, but I understood it was a no-no while I was pregnant. I settled for the UTV.

The views of Sunny Brook Farms never ceased to amaze me. The rolling hills. The lush crops. The view of the mountains beyond the fields. It was something artists tried to capture in their paintings for centuries.

The builders working on Andrew’s house were making great strides. Most of the framing and exterior were complete. He’d asked my input a few times, but I tried to keep a level head. This was his dream house, not mine, though I really did fall more in love with the plot of land and the home each time I saw it.

Rolling over in the massive bed, I stretched my arms out and pointed my toes. Andrew left early this morning and instead of joining him, I stayed behind and caught a few more hours of sleep. I had plans to venture into town today to start my Christmas shopping.

Andrew thought I was crazy, since it “isn’t even Thanksgiving yet,” as he helpfully pointed out, but I liked to get a head start on things. Especially since there was a chance I wasn’t going to be here for the holiday. We hadn’t discussed what would happen after Andrew no longer needed rehab on his knee. The doctor gave him two more weeks of exercises, then I was free to go.

He didn’t even need me helping him now. He knew the exercises just as well as I did, but it bought me more time with him.

As much as I wanted to stay in Ashfield—and boy, did I want to stay—I wanted to find a job in my field, and bigger cities and their suburbs were the answer. I knew if I gave Andrew an inkling that I would love to be a homemaker, he’d spoil me rotten.

It wasn’t that I needed a job because I was stubborn. I needed a job because it made me feel fulfilled. I was one of the few who actually enjoyed what I did. Seeing people get their lives back because I worked with them was one of the greatest rewards.

Yawning, I sat up and stretched, then reached for my laptop resting on the nightstand. Last night, after Andrew had fallen asleep, I scrolled through some job posting sites to see if anything jumped out at me at first glance. I saved them so I could check them over today. Two of the postings were across the country, while another was an entry-level job working under someone at my current level.

Pivoting from the job sites, I pulled up a list of sports teams along the East Coast and checked through their career pages. Surprisingly, a few lower-level teams had openings for a sports medicine therapist. Grabbing the sticky notes from the nightstand drawer, I jotted the name of the teams down and mentally noted to do some more research on them before sending them my resume.

My desire for a cup of coffee grew, and I put my laptop aside and slipped out of bed. I was thankful the doctor said I could have a small amount of caffeine daily. I couldn’t start my day without a hot brew, and nothing I made at home came close to what they could do at the local coffee shop. I tried decaf, but it usually made me angrier than if I had no coffee at all.

I took a quick shower and pulled on an ivory-colored sweater dress. It was one of the few things left in my small array of clothes that still fit. If I wore pants, I needed the button extender, or I had to leave them unfastened. My stomach hadn’t grown much, but the jeans were a little too tight.

I tugged on a pair of cowboy boots with pretty sunflowers decorating the leather. They were a gift from Rory for my birthday last year. I’d worn them a few times in Nashville, but since living in Ashfield, I wore them as much as possible.

When I swept my hair into a ponytail, the curls at the bottom brushed along my shoulder blades. My bangs had grown out a bit and curtained my eyes.

With a quick glance in the mirror, I looked over at myself. My eyes were bright, smile was easy, and my skin had never looked better. I knew most women attributed those changes to their pregnancies, but I thought it had more to do with the fact that I’d never been happier.

The drive downtown was quick, and I parked in the public parking area by the courthouse. As many times as I’d come to the town with Rory and Andrew, there were still shops and restaurants I’d never explored. I hoped to remedy that today.

There were three main rows of buildings on either side of Main Street, and they spanned five to seven small blocks. Dog parks and kids' play areas were scattered throughout small openings between buildings where a road or alleyway didn’t cross. Ashfield’s downtown made the most of the small space it occupied. Rory mentioned that, over the last decade, buildings had been added on, all with the stipulation they’d appear like they’d been there all along. Vacant space was usually spoken for as soon as a For Lease sign was posted in a window.

Speaking of my best friend—my phone rang, and when I tugged it from my crossbody bag, I saw her name flashing on the screen.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully, stepping out of my car. I’d taken my sunglasses off but reached back inside to grab them. The sun was extra bright today.

“Hey. What are you up to today?” she asked, and I could tell by the background noise she was sitting in a busy area.

“I’m exploring more of your hometown.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve only seen about half the shops here. I’m excited,” I told her.

“Is Andrew with you?”

“No, he’s at the farm.” A loud crash sounded… and then some arguing. “Where are you?” I asked.

“Ugh. The cesspool of crazy.”

“The airport?” I guessed.

“Nailed it. We’re headed to Miami to pick up Gigi from her all-seniors cruise.”

Gigi was Talon’s wealthy grandmother who had bought a summer home in Ashfield when Rory and Talon made this their primary residence. I’d met her twice, because even though she was in her late-eighties, the woman could run circles around most forty-year-olds, and she was always off jet-setting somewhere.

“I bet she tried to captain the ship,” I joked, and Rory joined in my laughter.

I leaned against my car as we chatted about when they’d be back in town. Talon was opening a few hotels overseas, and she was traveling with him, camera in hand. She was a supremely talented photographer, and if it hadn’t been for him, she may have let her dream sit on the back burner.

“I can’t believe you get to go to all those exotic places. I am so jealous.”

“Living out of a suitcase isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I miss sleeping in my own bed and hearing the roosters wake me up at 5:00 a.m.”

“You miss teaching too, don’t you?” I asked matter-of-factly.

“I do, but… I’m hoping to use those skills soon.” Her words sank in, and I straightened.

“What are you saying? Are you pregnant?” I asked, and Betsy, who worked at the grocery store bakery, eyed me, wanting to know more. The woman was the head of the gossipers in town. If you wanted to know anything, she was the person to ask.

I moved in a different direction so she wouldn’t overhear anything else, as Rory replied, “No. Not yet, at least. We’re trying though. Actively.”

“Oh, Rory. That’s so exciting. Maybe we’ll have kids close in age,” I spoke quietly. Mentally, I was adding that to the pro column for staying in Ashfield.

“Actually, that was part of why I was calling. I wanted to check on you. I’ve been such a terrible friend. I don’t think I’ll see you until Sadie’s wedding, and then I’m off again.”

“We talk most days.” Though, it had been almost two weeks since we chatted last. Right after the Caleb debacle. My lawyer and I were still waiting on him to sign the dissolution of rights paperwork. “But I’m feeling good. Great even.”

“That’s good. And no issues living with Andrew?”

“Nope. He gave me the bedroom, and he’s been sleeping on the air mattress,” I lied. At least some of that was true—he did offer to give me the bedroom, but I enjoyed sharing the space with him. Plus, I wasn’t about to ask him to sleep anywhere that wasn’t nearly as comfortable while he was recovering. And the air mattress he ordered weeks ago to replace mine sat in its box, unused. “We kind of just make things work. I make sure he does his exercises, and he makes sure I rest.”

She laughed. “The two things you both probably hate the most.”

“No kidding.”

In the distance, an intercom sounded, and Rory had to rush off for her flight. I was certain she and Talon were sitting in first class. He probably could have chartered a flight, but I knew his money spending made Rory uncomfortable. Even if it was to spoil her.

I understood how she felt. Especially since Andrew gave me his black card and told me to buy whatever I wanted with it. And the asshole knew me better than I expected, because he already warned every shop in town that my charges were to go on that card, not my own.

Sometimes, it really sucked to be an independent woman with a boyfriend who wanted nothing more than to pamper you. But I knew it wasn’t worth the stress or aggravation to argue with him.

Little did he know that I had zero plans to use the card.

I walked into the first shop and perused the soaps and bath salts. I realized that this was the vendor who had the booth at the market, where I thought the ingredients in the soap had gone bad. I searched the shelves, found the particular one that had grossed me out, and took a sniff. Then nearly fell over laughing. The woman working the store eyed me like I was crazy as I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to explain.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I smelled this one before and thought it had gone rotten. It didn’t. It smells divine to me now. But later that week, I found out I was pregnant, so it had just set off my nausea.” I was still giggling as the woman cocked her head to the side, trying to figure me out.

“It was a lot funnier in my head. You have a beautiful store,” I said as I set the soap back on the shelf and exited swiftly.

I passed by the next store of outdoor equipment and clothing. In the window, there was a canoe next to a crossbow and a taxidermized bear.

Continuing my trek down the back side of Main Street, I waved at a group of women I met in the coffee shop a few times. One was a nanny and pushing a quad stroller.

I hadn’t even considered what items I needed for the baby. I wondered if there was a checklist online I could reference.

“Excuse me,” I called out as she passed. “Is there a baby store in town?”

“Oh, yes! My sister just opened one up last year. It’s across the street, between the bowling alley and ice cream shop.”

“That’s great. Thank you.”

This town really did have everything. I added it to my mental list for the day and continued down the path.

A shop called All Yarn Long caught my eye, and I stepped inside. The space was long and narrow, but along every wall were spools of yarn in every color and thickness.

“Wow,” I whispered, taking it all in. It was a crocheter's dream.

“Can I help you?” an older man asked as he stepped around the counter.

“Oh, sorry. I was just looking around. I love your shop.”

“Thanks,” his unsteady voice said as he shuffled closer to me. “This place was my dear Agatha’s dream. She loved to crochet. I promised her one day we’d open this shop up together. She passed away before she could ever see it, but I think she’d like it.”

I gazed around the space with a new set of eyes and saw all the love and promise inside.

“That’s…” I sniffled. “That’s the sweetest thing I ever heard.” I couldn’t fight against the sob that broke free. The man startled at my reaction, and I tried to explain why I was emotional, but all that came out was a garbled mess. Since I hit the second trimester, I cried at the drop of a hat. Last night, it had been a cat litter commercial. Today, a yarn store by a devoted husband.

Reaching into my bag, I grabbed my travel pack of tissues and tried to compose myself.

“I’m sorry. The pregnancy hormones get to me sometimes.”

He smiled and congratulated me while mentioning that his granddaughter was pregnant with her third child. And then went on to explain that his grandkids helped him run the shop and a social media page.

While he was standing there, I pulled it up and saw it had over three hundred and fifty thousand followers. All the images were of him and some sort of yarn creation.

“Do you make these?” I asked, pointing to an image of a crocheted turtle that had over a million likes.

“I do. I took it up when Agatha passed. It helps me remember her.”

“You’re going to make me cry again,” I joked as my chin wobbled. “I’m Kelsey, by the way.”

“John,” he replied, extending an arthritic hand. Knowing that he most likely suffered a lot of pain while crocheting as a way to keep his wife’s memory alive nearly gutted me.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I don’t crochet or knit, but I do love to make quilts. It’s been a while though.”

“Quilts? Well, it’s your lucky day. I just got some new fabrics delivered yesterday.”

“Really? Where?” I asked giddily.

He led me to a small back room with rolls of fabrics in all sorts of playful designs.

I spent the better part of an hour with John as I discussed the shapes and logic that went into creating my quilts. He enthusiastically helped me select some complementary fabrics for a baby blanket.

I didn’t even have a sewing machine at Andrew’s place, but I didn’t care. This was something I could do just for myself.

As John rang me up, I asked if he had a catalog or knew somewhere I could order a new quilting machine from. My last sewing machine had been one I found at a thrift shop for twenty bucks. It wasn’t the best, but it got the job done.

He handed me a thick catalog and opened it to the section I needed. My eyes nearly bulged from their sockets when I saw the prices. The cheapest one was fifteen-hundred dollars. There were even some in the twenty-thousand range.

Closing the catalog, I pushed it back across the counter with a shaking hand. I’d have to wait to purchase one. I could ask Marisol if she had a machine I could borrow until I went back to Nashville for mine.

“Your total is $31.52,” John said as he flipped the digital screen toward me.

I whipped my card out of my wallet and tapped it on the machine, only for John to cancel the transaction.

I glanced up at him skeptically. “John?”

“Sorry, Miss Kelsey. I was given persuasive orders.” He smiled.

“Gah, he got to you too?”

He laughed and explained that the Easterlys were like family to everyone in town, and if they asked for something, most people agreed to help. And he was told if a new customer with my description named Kelsey came in, not to let her use her own credit card but the black one Andrew had given her.

“Sorry, dear. Let the man buy you things. I used to spoil my sweet Agatha with fresh flowers every other day. She fought me tooth and nail, saying the money could be spent on something more useful, like groceries, but I watched her eyes light up each time I handed them to her and she replaced the wilted ones in the vase on our kitchen table.”

“John… tears.” I sighed as I grabbed my tissue again and wiped my eyes. The sobs quickly followed. I was embarrassed by the way I was becoming an emotional basket case while standing in the middle of the store.

“I don’t want to spend his money. Can’t you please use my card this time?”

“Sorry.” He shrugged.

With the tears subsiding, anger blossomed. Yanking my phone from my bag, I pressed the name listed as number one in my favorites.

“Hey, baby,” Andrew greeted.

“Why are you being a jerk right now?” I accused, fighting back the giddiness I felt each time he called me that.

“Because I love you.”

I wanted to stomp my foot to keep the anger alive, because I could already feel it dying out. “Andrew… I want to use my own money.”

“And I want to spend mine on you. Where are you?”

“All Yarn Long.”

“Oh, put John on the phone,” he told me.

Hesitantly, I held the phone out for John, surprised that Andrew seemed to know the man personally. It left me wondering how that happened, since Andrew didn’t move back to live here full time until recently.

The owner carefully took my phone and spoke with my frustrating boyfriend. I watched helplessly as John nodded and started typing numbers into the screen.

“Yes, she did. She looked at a quilting machine. Yes, sir. Will do.”

He ended the call and handed it over to me, a huge grin on his face. The material was already folded up inside a plastic bag, which he handed to me across the counter.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, knowing I had lost my battle. Worse, I could feel it in my bones that Andrew just took his win to a whole other level by adding a sewing machine to my order. John refused to give me the receipt, so I had no idea how much the man spent on me.

“It was a pleasure to have you in my shop, Kelsey. Please come back again.”

Dammit. It was so hard to stay angry.

“I will, John. I love your shop.”

I left with the bag in hand and headed toward the next street to grab a sandwich for lunch. Along the counter was a taped flyer asking patrons to support the local football team, as their star quarterback was suffering with a torn Achilles.

Bringing out my phone, I took a picture of the flyer and noted the coach’s email address. An idea came to mind, and it flickered like an ember until it exploded into a wildfire.

Once I devoured my sandwich, I went outside and typed in the number on the flyer.

A deep voice answered, “Mr. Perdue.”

“Hi there. My name is Kelsey Davis, and I wanted to ask you a few questions about your football team, if you have a minute.”

“Sure, Ms. Davis.”

“Great,” I replied, and I started my inquiries as I strolled down the sidewalk toward the baby gear shop.