The Sweethearts’ Knitting Club (19 page)

At six sharp, Moe and Patsy took the podium.

Beau strode in, threading his way through the overstuffed aisles, marching right straight up to the front. He didn’t sit, but stood with his back against the wall, arms folded over his chest, surveying the throng. His gaze lit on Flynn’s. His eyes narrowed, his lips thinned, and he gave her a slight, curt nod. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week.

Flynn saw the wounded pride in his eyes. Her stomach churned.

Patsy called the meeting to order. “First off, Sheriff Trainer has asked to speak to our collective.” She moved aside. “Sheriff.”

Beau stepped up to the microphone. “I’m issuing a formal announcement. The old Twilight Bridge has been condemned. It’s a crime scene and
it’s been cordoned off. I don’t want to see anyone hanging around.”

“Exactly what happened, Sheriff?” Vida Lewis called out.

“We heard you’d arrested a suspect,” said the hardware store owner, Mr. Ivey.

“I heard it was Jesse Calloway,” someone else muttered. “That kid’s been nothing but trouble ever since Patsy dragged him into Twilight.”

“Is that true, Sheriff?”

Flynn’s muscles tensed.

“I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation,” Beau said. “But I want to make it clear the bridge is off limits to everyone. We’ve already had people going down looking to take pieces of brick as souvenirs. My men have better things to do than chase off looky-loos.”

“So that’s it?” asked Dotty Mae. “The bridge that’s been a mainstay of this community is gone.
Phhttt
. Just like that? Where will the young lovers go to neck? Where will the kids go diving in the summer? Where will the swallows nest?”

“Perhaps you should ask those questions of the person who decided to blow up the bridge.” Beau’s gaze fixed on the doorway.

All the heads swiveled in unison. Flynn was struck by how choreographed the moment felt. Like an exaggerated musical production.
Yes, we got trouble. Right here on the Brazos River
. And her head turned right along with everyone else.

Jesse slouched at the back of the room, shoulder braced nonchalantly against the doorjamb, that familiar laconic smile tugging at his lips.

A ripple of exclamations ran through the crowd.

Flynn’s heart somersaulted.

“Anybody got something to say to me?” Jesse asked. “You best speak your mind now or forever hold your peace.”

A dropping straight pin would have detonated the stillness of the room loud as a sonic boom.

“What?” Jesse sauntered forward, his gaze landing first on one person and then another. “No one wants to accuse me of anything?”

Several people studiously stared at their feet.

“What about you, Mrs. Qualls? I remember when you accused me of beheading your garden gnomes. You couldn’t believe that it was your very own grandson, so you sent Clinton Trainer over to bust my chops. Remember that?”

The snooty Mrs. Qualls shook her head, her tight bun wobbled, and she splayed a hand to her throat. “I don’t recall that at all.”

“’Course you don’t. Selective memory loss. Nice to have.” He moseyed down the aisle toward the front of the room. With each step forward that he took, Flynn’s pulse quickened.

“What about you, Mr. Ivey? You accused me of shoplifting. Light bulbs, I think it was. And darn if you didn’t have your poker buddy, Sheriff Clinton Trainer, shake me down. And wasn’t it odd that when you later found those light bulbs in your storeroom, you didn’t bother exonerating me.”

Mr. Ivey’s face paled. “How…how did you know I found those bulbs later?”

“I dated your daughter Missy for a while. She told me.”

Mr. Ivey’s complexion flamed from ashen to florid. “You? You dated my Missy?”

“More accurately, she dated me. She was the one throwing pebbles at my bedroom window, not the other way around. She’s some kisser, that Missy. You tell her that the next time you see her.”

Flynn felt simultaneously hot and cold. She knew Jesse was simply taking up for himself, the way he hadn’t been able to do as a confused, troubled teen, but it made her uncomfortable. If she was being honest about it, she didn’t want to hear that he’d enjoyed kissing Missy Ivey.

“Jesse,” Patsy said from her place on stage beside Beau. “Did you blow up the bridge?”

“I did not.”

“Then that’s good enough for me. Let’s move on.”

“Whoa.” Mr. Ivey shot to his feet. “You can’t just sweep things under the rug like that, Councilwoman Cross. He’s your nephew.”

“Plus he’s a convict,” Mrs. Qualls said.

“Yeah,” someone else threw in.

“I can prove I didn’t do it,” Jesse said. “I have an alibi.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“Yeah,” Beau challenged. “Who?”

“I’m not revealing her name to you piranhas.” Jesse did not look at her.

This is your chance, on your feet. Exonerate him
. Flynn tried to move but her butt was welded to the seat. The truth was, she hadn’t been with Jesse the minute the bridge had blown up.

It doesn’t matter. You know he didn’t have time to do it. Even ignoring the logistics, you know he didn’t do it. Speak up.

She cleared her throat, tried to formulate a
speech. Jesse might not have been looking at her, but Beau sure was. His blister-hot gaze deep-fried her face. “An alibi witness isn’t going to do you much good if she won’t come forward,” Beau said. “You sure she thinks enough of you to pull your bacon out of the fire?”

Was it her imagination, or was everyone in the room
except
Jesse staring at her?

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Jesse Calloway,” said Mrs. Pickles, who ran the day care at the Ruby Street Baptist Church. “Lying about having an alibi.”

“That bridge was a vital part of our history. It was one of the oldest viable suspension bridges left in the state until he blew it up the first time,” declared Abel Hennessey, a local contractor. The man reminded Flynn of a bulldog with his jowly cheeks, smashed-in nose, and pugnacious set to his thick shoulders. “He done it once, ain’t it likely he done it again?”

“It could be just as likely that someone blew up the bridge precisely because they knew you’d accuse Jesse,” Patsy said. “Have you thought about that?”

“Have you thought about the fact that your drug addict sister gave birth to a criminal? And when you brought him to Twilight, you brought a viper into our midst?” Hennessey barked.

Things were turning ugly.

Quick, do something to calm everyone down
. Flynn leaped to her feet. “Let’s all take a deep breath. We don’t know who dynamited the bridge. According to Fire Chief Rutledge, the investigation
is still ongoing. Let’s not jump to conclusions or point fingers. Instead, let’s focus on what we can do about it.”

She finally dared to look at Jesse. His gaze was inscrutable.

“Flynn’s right,” Patsy interjected.

“I want to put my bid in for the salvage job,” Hennessey said.

“Before you start picking over the bones of the bridge,” Flynn added, “I have an idea.”

“Come on up here, Flynn, and tell us your plans.” Beau stepped back from the microphone.

She eased down the row, climbing over knees, dodging feet, and ended up in the aisle not far from where Jesse stood. She didn’t have the courage to look him in the eyes right in front of everyone, but she was close enough to feel his energy—thick, imposing, accusing. Head ducked, she scurried to the podium.

“As several people have pointed out,” she said into the microphone, “the Twilight Bridge is an integral part of our history, but let’s face it, even before someone blew it up, the bridge was in pretty sad shape. The railings were rusting out, termites eating up the boards, bricks coming loose from the pillars. We’re lucky no tourists ever got hurt on it and sued the town.”

Murmurs of agreement ran through the group.

“I propose we rebuild the bridge, salvaging and using as much of the original construction materials as we can.”

“Good idea,” Mr. Ivey said.

“Great suggestion.” Mrs. Qualls’s bun bobbled.

“How do you propose we pay for it?” Patsy asked.

“We could have a charity event.”

Several people in the audience nodded.

Encouraged, Flynn continued. “Did anyone ever see the episode of the
Gilmore Girls
where the Stars Hollow Bridge suffered from Japanese beetles?”

“Oooh, I did. Wasn’t that on the last season?”

“Don’t you hate that the show went off the air?”

“It was my favorite. I miss Lorelai and Rory and Luke and—”

Flynn held up a hand. “We’re digressing. Do you remember how they raised the money to fix the bridge?”

“Christopher, Lorelai’s baby daddy and the man she was engaged to marry, paid for it,” someone said. “He was rich.”

Flynn waved an impatient hand. “Before Christopher stepped in.”

“They held a knit-a-thon.”

“Bingo.” Flynn pointed. “If it was good enough for Stars Hollow, it’s good enough for us. We could hold a knit-a-thon to raise money. Advertise it in the
Fort Worth Star-Telegram
. Make it an event not to be missed.”

The room dissolved into excited chatter as the knit-a-thon idea caught fire. In a matter of minutes the town passed a measure to hold a knit-a-thon on the Fourth of July weekend to take advantage of the holiday traffic. That gave them two weeks to get ready, and they put Flynn in charge of organizing it.

Pride rode her shoulders as people shook her
hand. She’d taken lemons and turned them into lemonade. Citizens had come to the meeting disgruntled and looking for blood; they were leaving hopeful and enthusiastic. She’d proposed a plan and set it in motion. She was healing wounds and saving the Twilight Bridge.

She felt invincible.

That is, until she looked down the aisle and saw Jesse glaring at her as if she was the world’s biggest hypocrite.

Everyone filed out of the town hall meeting. Jesse stood by the door, staring down anyone who dared look him in the eye. He wasn’t afraid of these people, this town. He was innocent. They were the guilty ones. Automatically assuming he’d done wrong based on the past. He didn’t care about their small-mindedness. There was only one thing that bothered him.

Flynn. And the way she’d thrown him to the wolves.

Aunt Patsy passed by. “Will you be home for dinner tonight?”

He shook his head.

“Well, if you change your mind, if you want to talk about it…” She let her words trail off.

“I’ve got something else to handle first.”

“All right. I’m there for you if you need me.” Patsy left, and Jesse swung his gaze back to Flynn.

She was still on the stage, talking to a clot of ladies from her knitting club. Even after the way she’d wounded him, he couldn’t stop wanting her. His gaze tracked over her body. She wore a blue jean skirt that hit just above her knees and a red cotton top that accentuated her dark hair and pale skin. It was the right outfit for this audience. Not too dressy, not too casual. Not flashy, but not stuffy either. She looked sweetly seductive, her clothing designed to sway people to her way of thinking. Jesse wondered if she realized she did that, dressed to persuade, convince, cajole, and win over. She was highly adept at getting people to like her.

A couple of the Sweethearts cast glances over their shoulders at him, closing ranks in a protective circle around Flynn. Growling under his breath, Jesse loped up on stage. He wasn’t going to let her hide behind her posse. Marva Bullock shot him a dark look, but stood aside as Jesse approached.

“Could we speak in private?” he asked Flynn.

She looked uncertain, cast glances at her friends.

“Now,” he said.

“Um…yeah, sure.”

The Sweethearts didn’t budge.

“It’s okay,” Flynn said, and wrapped her hands around her upper arms, her body language closing him out. “We can talk about the knit-a-thon tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, the women gathered up their knit
ting accoutrements, purses, and bags and filed out through the side door.

“You want to sit down?” She motioned to the chairs the town council had vacated.

“Standing’s good.”

“Okay.”

Silence stretched, long and uncomfortable.

She cleared her throat, swayed. He burned her face with his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell them you were with me? You could have given me an alibi, but you didn’t say a thing.”

“I wasn’t with you when the bridge went down.”

Her words stabbed him right between his shoulder blades. “You hadn’t been gone fifteen minutes when the explosion happened. There’s no way I could have rounded up dynamite, driven over there, and blown up the bridge in that length of time. You know I’m innocent.”

“I have no doubt about that.”

“So why didn’t you stand up for me?”

“What did you want me to do? Tell them we were making out in the Yarn Barn fifteen minutes before the blast?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Jesse…”

“You didn’t want to look bad in front of the town. Breaking up with Trainer one day, going at it with me a couple of days later.”

“You’re being rude.”

“I think I’ve earned the right.”

She had the good grace to look chagrined.

“This is Trainer’s doing,” he said. “He’s trying to turn the town against me, break us up.”

“You’re sounding paranoid.”

“Yeah? Well, you try going to prison for a crime you didn’t commit and see how mistrustful you become.”

“Are you suggesting that—”

“Trainer blew up the bridge in an attempt to incriminate me? Yeah, I am.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Beau’s not like that, he—”

“Beat me up.”

She pulled her lower lip up between her bottom teeth and nibbled it, worry in her eyes. Was he finally getting through to her?

“Why didn’t you share your certainty with the townsfolk who seemed mighty interested in carrying my head through the town square on a spike?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s okay to spell it out for me. Remember, I didn’t get to graduate from high school,” he said sarcastically.

“I haven’t told my family we’re dating.”

“Are we dating?”

“Aren’t we?”

“Not from your behavior.”

“Jesse…” She gave him a please-don’t-back-me-into-a-corner look. But he wasn’t feeling particularly accommodating. Not when she’d hung him out to dry. “I need to sit down. Do you mind if I sit down?”

He tried not to let it tug at his heart that her knees were trembling. He pulled out a chair for her. “Sit.”

She sat, and then looked up at him. “You’re going to keep standing?”

He narrowed his eyes, pulled out a chair, turned it around, and straddled it backward. “It’s because of Trainer, isn’t it? You don’t want him knowing you were with me.” He tried to keep the hurt from his voice. He didn’t want
her
knowing she’d just shredded him to ribbons.

“No, yes…Jesse, I just don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“Too late for that, Dimples.” Damn! Why had he said that? He was giving her all the power.

She raised a hand to her temple. “You’re right. I’m a terrible person. I’m ashamed of myself. I’ll go see the fire chief and tell him the truth. What’s wrong with me? How could I have left you hanging out to dry?”

Jesse expelled a heavy breath of air. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t stay mad at her, especially when she was so good at punishing herself. “You’re not a terrible person. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I am. I lie about being able to knit. Hell, I just organized an entire knit-a-thon and I have no idea what I’m doing. I cheated on Beau with you—”

“You didn’t cheat. We just kissed, and that other stuff we did was
after
you broke up with him.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve cheated plenty in my mind. When I was with Beau I often pretended it was you.”

“Really?” Okay, he shouldn’t be feeling pleased over that last bit of information, but he did.

“What kind of person does that?”

“A normal human being.”

“You want to know the truth of it?”

He reached over, touched her hand. “Yes, I do.”

“I feel like I’m dancing as fast as I can, trying to please everyone I come into contact with. My father, my sister, my brothers, Beau, you, the Sweethearts, and even my mother. The Yarn Barn is for her, not me. I was trying to please the town tonight and that’s why I didn’t take up for you. If I’d taken up for you…”

“You were afraid they would cast you out along with me.”

“Yes,” she admitted, and he saw the fear in her eyes. “I sacrificed you because I was too big of a coward to go against the crowd. See, I really am a terrible person. I didn’t stand by you when you needed me most.”

“I wish I knew what it was like,” he murmured.

“What’s that?”

“To be so accepted by your peers that being outcast is your worst fear.”

“I’m sorry.” Her shoulders sagged. “How can I make it up to you?”

“By letting everyone know that we’re seeing each other.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “I’m ready to do that.”

“And one other thing.”

She swallowed visibly. “Yes?”

He reached over to take her hand. “Stop beating yourself up, that’s my girlfriend you’re mistreating.”

She looked at him from underneath her long dark eyelashes. His heart hammered at the vulnerability he saw in her eyes. She tried so hard to be everything for everyone. No wonder she felt pulled
in a million directions. Her vulnerability touched him straight to his soul.

He wanted her so desperately. He’d never felt this way about another woman. He’d experienced it from the first moment he’d walked onto the football field at Twilight High and seen her on the sidelines with lively bumblebee-colored pom-poms, chanting, “Yellow and black, Twilight Tigers fight back. Goooo team, goooo.”

Whether he liked it or not, he was connected to her in a way he’d never been connected to anyone. This was beyond lust, more than love. It was an unbreakable bond. He didn’t understand it. He’d tried to deny it, but there it was. They were two parts of a single beating heart.

He bent his head and kissed her, inhaled her sweet, sweet flavor, felt it shoot through his blood, heady like a drug.

You’re a sucker. She just let you take the fall and you’re trying to tell yourself she’s your soul mate? Bullshit. There’s no such thing as love and you know it. Your own mother loved drugs more than she loved you.

He knew that ugly voice too well. It was the one that isolated him, kept him apart. Kept him distrustful and suspicious. Kept him on the outside looking in.

But you are on the outside. Except for your aunt and Hondo, the whole town believed Trainer.

And yet…

Some small part of him couldn’t help hoping. Flynn made him want to hope, to believe that things could be different. She made him yearn for
things he’d been without for so long. A tender hand to stroke his hair, a warm, soft body to wake up next to, someone who made him feel wanted, accepted, whole.

Wanting those things makes you weak and stupid
.

He wished he could dismiss the need, the desire, but looking into those light brown eyes speckled with green, he was powerless against these feelings he had for her.

She’d betrayed him and he forgave her.

Damn him, but he was already lost.

Flynn was determined to make amends. Jesse was right. She’d chosen the town and her reputation over him, and she was ashamed of her cowardly behavior.

That was why she’d come to the fire station.

“Morning, Flynn.” Hondo greeted her with a smile.

“Is the fire marshal here?”

“Yep. He just came in.”

She found Chief Rutledge in the break room with a cup of coffee and a bear claw. He glanced up when she entered the room.

“May I speak with you, sir?”

Rutledge nodded and used his foot to push the chair across from him out for her. He held up a box from the Twilight Bakery. “Wanna doughnut?”

“No, thank you.”

“Don’t tell my wife I’m eating this. She’ll have my ass in a sling.” He pulled a napkin from the rectangular dispenser, set his bear claw down, and dusted sugar glaze from his fingertips. On the sur
face, he looked like anybody’s dad. Paunchy, balding, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. But his eyes were sharp, his posture alert. “What’s on your mind?”

Flynn sat down and took a deep breath. “I know everyone’s saying Jesse Calloway blew up the bridge, but he couldn’t have done it.”

“Oh?” Rutledge arched an eyebrow, but his inscrutable gaze never left her face. “How do you know?”

“Because he was with me. Or at least he was with me just a few minutes before the bridge blew. There was no way he had time to get to the bridge, rig it with dynamite, and set it off.”

“Ah. You were with Jesse.”

“Yes. We’re renovating the theater together. He’s turning the bottom half into a motorcycle shop, I’m making the top floor into Lynn’s Yarn Barn.”

“A tribute to your mother. I heard about that. She’d be proud.”

“Thank you.”

He stroked his jaw with a thumb and forefinger, leaving a bit of white bear claw glaze sticking to his chin. “So you were with Jesse.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you and Beau were engaged.”

Flynn flattened her hand on the tabletop so he could see her bare ring finger. “We broke up.”

“Does Beau know that?

“Jesse was with me,” she said, dropping the whole conversational thread about Beau and their broken engagement. “He has an alibi.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?”

How did she explain it? “I…didn’t want the
whole town knowing Jesse and I were seeing each other. The relationship is new and…”

“You didn’t want to hurt Beau by flaunting it in his face.”

Flynn nodded. “But I can’t…won’t…let Jesse take the fall for something he didn’t do.”

“It’s nice of you to come clean and let me in on this,” the chief said. “But I’m afraid your alibi does no good. Jesse’s not off the hook.”

Alarm spread through her. “What do you mean?”

The chief’s eyebrows knit together.

“What is it?”

“You can’t share what I’m about to tell you with anyone. Especially not Jesse.”

Flynn gulped. “All right.”

“Not even Beau. This is just between you and me.”

Why was he telling her this and then swearing her to secrecy? Was he on some kind of fishing expedition? Was he trying to warn her? Whatever it was, Flynn had to know. “I promise not to tell anyone.”

Chief Rutledge narrowed his eyes. “The dynamite was rigged to a timer. It could have been set up for days. All it took was one cell phone call and boom…” He slammed his fist against the table.

Both Flynn and the bear claw jumped.

“Kablewy.”

The following two weeks were a bit uneven between her and Jesse. They’d been friendly, often eating lunch together and helping each other set up their shops, but he hadn’t asked her out on a date,
and she hadn’t issued any invitations either. They were feeling their way in the relationship, trying to find their footing with each other, and the ground still felt unsteady.

She’d spent a lot of time at Froggy’s, helping her father make sure the repairs to the water main were done and getting estimates for the foundation repair. Luckily their insurance covered the bulk of damage. Thank heavens she’d had the foresight to insist on a flood policy.

Jesse’s lawyer had told him that Chief Rutledge had found no evidence linking anyone to the bombing of the bridge, but they had discovered someone had stolen dynamite from the rock quarry upriver from Twilight. They had no further clues or leads. For now, Jesse was in the clear.

That put Flynn’s mind at ease. She was left with only one niggling little concern. She was going to have to pretend to knit in front of a town filled with onlookers, while Carrie would be knitting the items in secret in the Yarn Barn and then smuggling the garments over to her. They’d rehearsed ways of maneuvering the handoff and the plan seemed fail proof, but still she couldn’t help worrying that somehow she’d be found out.