Coming Home To Texas. Allie Pleiter

now. I got Willie down at the garage to say he’d donate a junker for them to learn on, only Willie doesn’t have the time to do the teaching. I was hoping you would help.”

      “What those boys need is someone who will believe in them. And right now, that isn’t me.”

      “Don told me the sheriff’s department would be in favor of anything that built connections with the local youth. He’d let you have the time to run the program and even kick in toward expenses if there are any.”

      Pastor Theo had done his advance work. Where was the slow drag of big-city bureaucracy when you needed it? “Don should know this isn’t something I can say yes to right now.”

      “You don’t have to agree this minute. Just say you’ll think about it.” Theo held out a hand for a shake.

      Nash was cornered. Don was on board, Theo was standing right in front of him and Nash would look like a jerk if he turned the pastor down cold for such a worthwhile program. The best he could hope for now was to say he’d consider it and start up a search for a better candidate. He tried not to grimace when he shook the pastor’s hand. “I’ll give it some thought. But I don’t think I’ll change my mind.”

      “You’ll forgive my saying so, but it’ll be my prayer that you will. Remember, the place we least want to go is often where God brings the most fruit.”

      Nash gave him an “I doubt that” look as he snapped off the garage light.

      Theo sighed as they walked out of the garage. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now all I need to do is figure out a class for the girls and we’ll be all set.”

      Nash’s memory swung back to Ellie’s description of her knitting. “I may have an idea for you there.”

      * * *

      Ellie held up her cell-phone screen to Gran as they sat on the porch swing. “Two messages—one from Katie and one from Derek.”

      Gran squinted at the notifications. “What do they say?”

      Ellie exhaled as she placed the phone facedown on the porch table. “I don’t know. I haven’t listened to them. I’m ticked that it took Katie this long to call, actually. I think this is Derek’s seventh message.”

      Gran’s eyes held a gentle reproach. “You’re not going to hear what either of them has to say?”

      “What is there for them to say, Gran?” Ellie felt her chest pinch the way it did every time that painful image resurfaced. Derek and Katie had looked completely enthralled with each other. Derek was supposed to feel that way about me. “Part of me wants the apology he couldn’t manage to choke out when I found them. Another part of me doesn’t want to let him sweet talk me out of ending it.” She let her head fall against Gran’s shoulder. “Or worse yet, not bother even trying.”

      “I know it hurts bad, darlin’.” Gran’s arms wrapped around her—something Ellie had ached for every moment since getting her heart broken. Since she’d arrived, she’d spent hours just sitting near Gran, trying to let the pain work itself out. On the outside, she’d been sitting still staring at the pastures, but inside she’d been churning through all kinds of emotions.

      Gran gave a tender laugh. “And I know it hurts extra bad because you’re not knitting.”

      It was true. Ellie worked out most of her problems with yarn and needles. The repetitive stitches gave her time to think and process and even unwind. “Do you know what I had been knitting? A shawl for Katie to wear in the wedding. She was acting like she was my best friend. We picked out the yarn together.” Ellie felt her voice catch—it seemed as if she’d cried five times a day since then. “How could she do that to me, Gran? I tell you, right now I never want to see that shawl again.”

      Gran shook her head. “I can’t say I blame you. Seems a waste of good yarn, though. I say rip the shawl out, and enjoy doing it, but then save the yarn for something else.”

      Rip it out. Undo it all. Disassemble the memory and the pain. Why not? Ellie looked up. “You know what? You’re right. It’s even in the back of my car.” She hadn’t even realized until just this moment the project had made the trip with her, sitting in the backseat of her car since before she’d decided to leave town. Suddenly dismantling the beautiful, intricate shawl seemed like the most satisfying thing she could do. “Want to help me?”

      In a matter of minutes Ellie was seated back on the swing with her knitting bag and the mound of delicate sky-blue yarn that in another dozen rows would have been Katie’s wedding shawl.

      “Oh, honey, it’s lovely,” Gran cooed as she held up the nearly finished project.

      It was. Ellie prided herself on the quality of her lacework—the shawl would have been stunning with the periwinkle dress she and Katie had picked out as her maid-of-honor gown. Now no one would see it. No one except Gran, that was. Ellie’s heart both stung and glowed at her grandmother’s praise. “Thanks for saying so. I wanted it to be special. Now it’s anything but.”

      Gran ran her hands across the stitches. Ellie liked that Gran took time to admire the piece. It struck her just how much she needed someone to know this had been in the works. The shawl needed a witness before its demise—if so strange a thought made any sense. It felt just right when, after a few minutes, Gran handed the cloud of soft blue lace back to her and said, “Let’s take this apart so it can become something new someday.”

      A perfect metaphor for her current life. Ellie meant it when she said, “I’m ready.” She pulled the long needle from the work with a flourish, feeling weight slide off her shoulders as the stitches slid free. Finding the loose strand of yarn, she handed the ball to Gran. “I’ll rip, you wind.”

      A tiny piece of her began to heal as she pulled the shawl apart row by row. So you can become something new, she told herself and the yarn. This was the wonder of Gran—she always knew just what to do to make someone feel better. Ellie couldn’t yet knit with this yarn—couldn’t yet create something new from such a painful memory—but she could rip out what needed to go away. She knew that tonight she would pack away the beautiful sky-blue yarn in one of Gran’s trunks, and tomorrow she would start some other project. Whether or not she would listen to Katie’s or Derek’s phone messages would be a problem for another day.

      It took almost half an hour before Ellie saw the final stitches of the big, intricate shawl disappear under her fingers. The healing relief of it unwound the knot she’d been carrying in her stomach for days. As the last stitch came undone, Ellie took what felt like her first deep breath in forever.

      She’d even managed a small giggle at one of Gran’s jokes when she caught sight of a sheriff’s car coming up the drive.

      “Well, look,” Gran said. “Here comes that nice young man from the sheriff’s office. Handsome fellow, don’t you think?”

      Ellie scowled. “After what we just did, I’d think you’d know I’m no fan of the male population right now.”

      Gran slid the last of the pale blue balls into Ellie’s bag. “Well, maybe I can just hope you’ll be reminded that not every member of the male population is a cheating swine.”

      Ellie looked at Nash’s tall, lean form as he got out of the car. “Nash could be just as cheating a swine as Derek, Gran. Clearly, I’m no good judge of these things. I’m off the market until further notice, and I mean it.”

      Gran nodded. “And you should be. You need time to heal, to sort out what happened. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have friends. I have no intention of you spending your entire visit cooped up in the house with me.”

      Ellie started to say I have friends, but bit back the words. In truth, she hadn’t kept up with people back here in Martins Gap after moving away to business school in the big city. Her good friends from high school had taken such a different path from hers that Ellie worried they wouldn’t find anything to talk about. Two of them were already married with children. She adored