Dropped Dead Stitch (4 page)

“Go ahead and tell her, Jen,” Lisa prodded gently.

Dr. Norcross looked expectantly from Jennifer to Lisa and back again. “Is there something I should know?”

“Yeah, there is,” Kelly blurted again, before stopping herself.

Jennifer exhaled a long breath. “That guy who owns this ranch. He’s . . . he’s the one who . . . attacked me in February.”

Dr. Norcross’s pale blue eyes widened, and she gazed solemnly at Jennifer. She glanced over her shoulder toward the ranch house where Cal Everett had gone after his welcome speech. Then Dr. Norcross turned her warm gaze to Jennifer once again. “Why don’t you and I take a walk together, Jennifer? Would that be okay?”

Jennifer looked up and nodded. “Yeah . . . okay.”

Dr. Norcross placed her arm around Jennifer’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “There’s a pretty trail over here by the trees that leads down to the creek below,” she said as she and Jennifer walked away. Glancing over her shoulder again, Dr. Norcross said, “Lisa, you and Kelly can check in. Your cabin room is the farthest on the right side of the building.”

Kelly watched Jennifer and her therapist walk toward the trees, and she felt that knot in her stomach start to loosen a little. Thank heaven Dr. Norcross was here. Otherwise, Jen would be sitting at home alone with all those horrible memories resurfacing throughout the weekend. And Kelly and Lisa wouldn’t be there to help her.

The little voice inside Kelly’s head whispered,
You mean, rescue her? You can’t rescue Jennifer. You know that.
Kelly remembered what Jayleen had once said: “People have to rescue themselves.”

That unsettling little reminder worked its way through Kelly’s brain. Okay, so she couldn’t rescue Jennifer. Jen would have to do that herself. With the help of good therapists like Dr. Norcross and others. But meanwhile, Jennifer’s friends could do their best to smooth the road for her. After all, that’s what friends do. They could do that, at least.

“That was great timing, wasn’t it?” Lisa said, heading across the barnyard once again. “Thank God Dr. Norcross appeared.”

“Yeah, let’s see how Jennifer feels after they’ve talked. If she still wants to go home, I’ll drive her,” Kelly said, following Lisa. “Meanwhile, let’s take a look and see how rustic these rooms are.”

“Well, I don’t see an outhouse anywhere, so I think we may be okay. That building looks like it has a classroom between the cabin rooms. So, there must be bathrooms inside.”

“Don’t be so sure. That outhouse may be hiding in the trees.”

 

 

Kelly
perched on the split-log railing that ran around the cabin and classroom complex. Now that it was early May, the trees were almost fully leafed-out with pale green leaves. The leaves would darken later in the month with the sun’s lengthening days, moving toward summer.

Next would come the spring runoff. Or, the May Melt-off, actually, when mountain snows all over Colorado’s Rockies started to melt and flow toward the creeks and streams, swelling them as they rushed toward the rivers. That was Kelly’s favorite time to visit the river. Watch it roar through the narrows and crash against the rocks, hurrying downstream where it widened, deceptively calm until it turned another bend. White water again.

This canyon was named for the mountain river that ran through it—the Cache La Poudre. Starting high at the top of the Continental Divide, the river trickled down the mountains in a small stream that grew as it flowed out of the canyon.

In the early summer after the spring runoff, the Poudre—as everyone called it—ran high and fast. It was a class five kayaking river, five out of six on the danger scale, calling adventure seekers from all over to come and test their abilities against its treacherous currents.

Most people in Fort Connor had learned or heard how dangerous the Poudre River could be, especially in the spring. Its swollen waters concealed the labyrinth of rocks and boulders below, hiding the tree branches and limbs that reached out and pulled many a kayaker to their death. Experience was no match for hidden hazards that snagged the unsuspecting.

Strength was no match for the river’s swift currents, either. Many a person who thought they could swim across the fast-rushing waters was swept away. Life jackets helped but did not guarantee safety. If someone was pulled under the water long enough, death was inevitable. It didn’t take long to drown.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Lisa,” a woman called as she approached, startling Kelly from her dramatic reverie.

“She’s inside the room,” Kelly said. Noticing the woman’s short curly dark hair, Kelly added, “Are you Greta? Lisa said you and she were taking classes with Dr. Norcross at the university.”

“Yeah, I’m Greta Baldwin,” she said, extending her hand. “You must be Kelly.”

Kelly gave her hand a shake. “Kelly Flynn. You’re helping this weekend, too? Lisa convinced Jennifer and me to help her with the knit and crochet sessions.”

“I’m teaching self-defense for women,” Greta volunteered. “I teach classes at several of the sport facilities and health centers in town.”

“Now that sounds like something useful,” Kelly said. “I wouldn’t mind watching your class.”

Greta smiled wide, her eyes alight. “Sure thing, Kelly. But from what I hear, you don’t need much help protecting yourself. Lisa’s told me about some of your adventures.”

“Ah, my reputation precedes me.”

“Hey, Greta, good to see you,” Lisa said as she came from the cabin. “Are they gathering in the classroom already? Have you met everyone yet? I’ve introduced myself to all six so far. Anyone else show up?”

Greta shook her head. “No, so I guess we have two no-shows. That’s about par for the course, according to Dr. Norcross.”

“Speaking of that, has she returned yet?” Lisa said, surveying the grounds. “She went for a walk with our friend Jennifer.”

“They haven’t shown up,” Kelly said. “I’ve been keeping watch. Wait a minute . . . I think that’s them over there, coming from the trees.”

“Whew! Perfect timing, too.” Lisa glanced at her watch. “Five minutes before class is scheduled to start.”

“If Jen wants to go back, do you think you’ll be able to handle the yarn session?” Kelly asked as she rose from her perch, anxiously peering across the spring grass, trying to decipher Jennifer’s expression. Her friend was still talking with Dr. Norcross.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Lisa said.

“Everything okay with your friend?” Greta asked, glancing toward Jennifer.

“Yeah, they had a little chat, that’s all,” Lisa replied.

Dr. Norcross gave Jennifer’s arm a squeeze, then walked toward the classroom building in the middle of the complex. Jennifer turned, spotted Kelly and friends gathered on the porch, and headed their way.

“How’s it going?” Kelly tried to hold back, but as usual she couldn’t.

“Better,” Jennifer said, giving a little nod. “Dr. Norcross and I talked a lot, and she told me I could choose to do several things. Whatever I decided would be perfectly okay. I had choices. But I needed to be comfortable with my choice.”

Kelly held her breath, waiting to hear what Jennifer was about to say.
Choices
.

Jennifer looked out toward the trees beyond, her hands shoved into her jeans pockets. “She said I could go home now if I wanted to, and that would be fine. Or I could stay and help you guys teach the yarn sessions like we planned. Or, I could stay and do yarn sessions
and
sit in on the classes she’s leading with the other six women. I wouldn’t have to say anything if I didn’t want to. No one has to speak if they don’t want to.” She paused. “Then she said I could also choose to stay and share my experience with the others. Maybe that would help someone else. It might help them move forward.” Jennifer turned back to Kelly and Lisa. “I’ve decided to stay and share. Maybe my story will help someone else tell theirs.”

Kelly gazed into her friend’s eyes and fought back the tears that rose unexpectedly in hers. “I’m proud of you, Jen.”

“Me, too,” Lisa said and gave Jennifer a quick hug.

“Good for you, Jennifer,” Greta added from behind them, her pale face solemn.

“And Doctor Norcross promised me I’d be safe here,” Jennifer continued. “She called out Everett right there on his porch. Gave him hell, too. She told him she didn’t want to see his face this weekend. And warned him he’d better stay in his house and away from me or any other retreat attendees. Everett turned white and ran inside the house.”

“Way to go, Dr. Norcross!” Kelly cried in delight.

Greta glanced over her shoulder to where Dr. Norcross was gesturing from the doorway. “Hey, guys, I think the session is about to start. Why don’t we walk in together,” she said, beckoning Jennifer down the porch.

“See you at the yarn session afterwards.” Jen gave a wave to Kelly as she walked away.

“I’m going in now,” Lisa said. “Why don’t you go on that hike, Kelly. You can explore for both of us.”

Kelly stared after her friends for a few seconds, then headed toward the trees. They’d been beckoning her ever since she arrived.

Lisa
scattered an assortment of colorful yarns across pine picnic tables that were clustered together on the wooden deck. Kelly moved chairs around to create a rough imitation of the Lambspun knitting table. A more rustic setting, but also a more beautiful one, Kelly had to admit.

The deck that stretched out in back of the ranch house was definitely inviting. It urged Kelly to sit and look and listen. Gaze at the rocky walls of Poudre Canyon she could see through the trees beside the creek that flowed below. Listen to the music of the water rushing past. Perched on the edge, the deck jutted out over a rocky slope that angled down toward the creek bank.

It was a shame to waste this beautiful view on that bastard
, she thought.

“Here they come,” Lisa announced.

Kelly spotted the women wandering around the outside of the ranch house. They slowly trickled onto the deck, talking in subdued voices, commenting on the scenery. That is, until they saw the yarns scattered on every table. All donated by Mimi at Lambspun. Exclamations of “How pretty,” “Feel this, it’s so soft,” “Look at these colors,” and “Is this a yarn?” The women indulged themselves like all visitors to the knitting shop. Indeed, it had been Kelly’s own experience when she first fell down the rabbit hole into that wonderland of fiber.

“Sit wherever you like,” Lisa directed, motioning to the women who surrounded the picnic tables. “We’ve tried to re-create our long knitting table at Lambspun back in town. It’s where everybody gathers. Knitters, spinners, weavers, and hookers.”

A young woman with short brown hair and a name tag reading CASSIE gave her a shocked look.

“
Hookers
are what we call ourselves when we’re crocheting, because we use the hook instead of needles.” Lisa gestured, as if there was any confusion.

“Pick a yarn you like and we’ll show you how to work with it. Most of these yarns will work well for knitting or crochet,” Kelly announced as she watched the women pick over the yarns, making their selections. “We’ve got some real simple projects you can start on.”

“Did all these yarns come from that shop in town?” a short brunette asked as she examined a ball of lime green chenille. Hair pulled back in a ponytail, she had a name tag that said EDIE.

“Yes, Mimi Shafer, the owner of Lambspun, donated the yarns and supplies for this retreat.”

“Shrewd marketing move,” said a slender, thirtyish blonde named Nancy, as she scrutinized a fluffy skein of indigo merino wool and mohair.

Kelly had to laugh. “You’re right about that. Mimi is a shrewd business owner as well as a kindhearted contributor to local causes.”

“What are we going to use on these yarns? We need needles and hooks,” a girl with a state college tee shirt asked, holding aloft a ball of fluffy hot pink eyelash yarn. Her name tag said SUE.

Kelly held up a canvas bag. “Don’t worry. We’ve got a bunch of needles and hooks of all sizes. We’re covered.”

“What kind of projects do you have?” a fortyish frosted blonde asked. DAWN was printed in block letters on her name tag. “I knitted a scarf once, but it was years ago.”

“Oh, you’ll get the hang of it again quickly,” Kelly promised. “That yarn you’ve got right there would make a great scarf for winter if you use smaller needles. If you want something for summer, then pick one of those eyelash yarns—those little spiky fluff balls in the rainbow colors.” She pointed to several. “You can make a real cute summer scarf with larger needles.”

The women proceeded to move around the tables, examining yarns as Jennifer sidled up beside Kelly. “Wow, this is almost like an entirely different group.”

“What do you mean?”

“At the session, nobody talked at all. Well, just one woman. But everyone else kept their mouths shut, including me. It was hard to get a read on them, everybody was so subdued and quiet. But now . . . just look at them.” She gestured toward the women, chattering to each other, comparing yarns, comparing stories of scarves gone awry and sweaters that went on forever. Smiles were everywhere. “Fiber fever at work. You’ve gotta love it.”

Kelly chuckled. “Well, Mimi certainly will. We’re probably creating several new customers for her shop this weekend.”

“And for those of you who’ve never done any knitting or crocheting, we’ve got a super easy project that will teach you both. A simple knitted washcloth with a crocheted edge. Believe me, it’s easy,” Lisa announced.

“How big is it?” a tall redhead with spiky hair asked. Her name tag said JANE.

Lisa held up her hands, indicating a square. “Regular washcloth size. Don’t worry. You won’t be knitting a towel,” she teased.

Dr. Norcross slipped beside Kelly and Jennifer. “I’m amazed at the transformation with this group. They’re animated now. More like the women I see in my office when they’re alone with me. I may have to add these fiber sessions to every workshop I teach from now on.”