Knitted Hearts by Amber Kelly

Sonia

Ifinish up early with patients and decide to take George by Momma’s shop to introduce her to her new granddog. I attach her leash to her harness, and we walk around the corner.

Momma is on a ladder, reaching a high shelf, when the bell chimes to let her know we are entering.

She looks over her shoulder and smiles before she hurries down the ladder. When she gets to the last rung, she steps off and turns to greet us. I notice her face goes pale instantly, and she sways on her feet. I let go of George’s leash and rush over to grab her elbow and steady her.

“Are you okay, Momma?” I ask.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just turned around too fast and got a bit dizzy,” she says.

“Well, come sit down and catch your breath,” I say as I lead her over to the black velvet Queen Anne sofa at the front of the dressing room.

George follows behind us on our ankles, curious as to what has me on alert.

The nurse in me starts to fuss over Momma as she sits down.

“Have you been getting dizzy often?” I ask as I lift George onto the sofa beside her and drop my bag to the floor. Then, I place the back of my hand on her forehead to check for a fever.

“Not often, no,” she says as she shoos my hand away.

“Have you had a headache or blurry vision?”

“No.”

“You’re flushed, and you feel a little clammy. Have you eaten today?” I continue the inquisition.

She smiles. “I forgot to have lunch. The shop got busy around noon, and it just slipped my mind.”

“In that case, your blood sugar could just be low,” I assess.

“That’s it. I just need supper, and I’ll be fine,” she declares.

I bend and rummage in my bag until I find the granola bar I tossed in there this morning. I tear the wrapper open with my teeth and hand it to her. “Here, eat this. It should help.”

She grabs the offered bar from my hand and takes a big bite. I watch as she chews and swallows.

“There, happy?” she asks.

I can tell she’s only trying to appease me.

“I’ll be happy when you eat it all. Tomorrow, you need to make an appointment with Dr. Scanlan and tell him about this episode.”

“I’m fine now, sweetheart,” she says but takes another bite.

“Any problem swallowing?” I ask.

“Nope, none at all,” she says.

George stands on her back legs and starts hopping up, pawing at the wrapped bar.

“Oh, who do we have here? Is this our newest family member?” she asks as George continues to make a play for her snack.

“Yes, Momma this is George. George this is your Mawmaw,” I introduce them.

“You want a bite, don’t you?” Momma asks the pup.

“She wants everything. I tried to explain that puppies only get puppy food, but she doesn’t think that’s very fair.”

“Sorry, baby, but if your mom says no, I can’t share.”

She reaches over and strokes George’s hair.

“She’s adorable, Sonia.”

“Isn’t she?” I agree.

“What are you girls up to this evening?” she asks George, but I answer.

“We thought we’d hang out with you until closing,” I tell her.

“Oh, great! I have a knitting order to finish up before I call it a night. Want to get takeout?” she asks.

“Are you positive you don’t want to go home and lie down?” I ask.

“I’m fine. Now, stop fussing over me and go get us some food.”

“Okay. If you want to watch George, I’ll go down to Faye’s and pick us up a couple of meatloaf specials.”

I return with the food to find George curled up on a quilt, fast asleep beside Momma in the back room. Momma is seated next to a basket of yarn with knitting needles in her hands.

I turn the sign in the window to Closed and lock the door behind me.

I set the food out on the counter, and then I make a plate and set it beside her. Then, I settle in a chair across the way with mine.

“I got my divorce papers today. Ricky had already signed them,” I tell her.

She nods. “Good. It’s time to shut the door on that part of your life and move forward,” she says as she weaves the yarn together. Her reading glasses are as far down her nose as they can go without falling off her face.

“I never thought I’d be a twenty-five-year-old divorcée. It’s embarrassing,” I mutter.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” she says.

“You’re not disappointed in me?”

She looks up from her work. “I’m disappointed for you, not disappointed in you. There’s a difference. You loved him the best you could and did all within your power to make your marriage work. And there is no shame in moving on.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“The other night, I saw you walk past this window, arm in arm with Foster Tomlin,” she says.

“You did? Why didn’t you say anything when I came in that night?” I ask.

She never let on that she knew I was with Foster.

She shrugs. “I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know if I am ready, Momma.”

“Why not?”

“Ricky tore my heart apart. It’s taken me a year for the constant ache in my chest to subside. Foster has been hurt. A lot. His ex-wife has put him through hell. What if I’m so damaged that I do the same thing? What if my heart is just a pile of scraps that can never be whole again?”

“Oh, baby girl, I know it feels that way right now, but time heals. Look at this basket full of loose yarn. It’s all different colors and lengths. Scraps left from other projects. I could have tossed it out, given up on it, but I kept it, and now, look.” She holds up the beautiful blanket in progress.

“All of these leftover pieces are being knitted together to make a gorgeous blanket for Maisy’s new granddaughter. These scraps will keep that baby warm. They will comfort her. They will cover her. Don’t think for a second that God can’t take the pieces of your shattered heart and knit them together into something beautiful. Something stronger and more joyful than you can imagine.”

“I hope you’re right,” I whisper.

“I am. Do you know how I know?”

“How?”

“He did it for me. I was broken when I lost your father. I loved him with every fiber of my being. I never thought I’d recover. But God had a different plan. He brought Don into my life, and though I never stopped loving your father, he made room for me to let Don in, and we’ve had a great decade together. So, trust your mother; your happiness is still to come.”

“Thanks, Momma.”

We sit and chat about everything for the next two hours while she works. I love our time together. I always say Elle and Bellamy are my best friends, but truth be told, Kathy Chambers is my best friend too. She’s been my ride or die since day one, and we’ve been through hell and back together.

No one ever loves you like your momma does.