Knitted Hearts by Amber Kelly

Sonia

“Now, Mr. Will, you promise you’ll stop turning your hearing aid down, right?”

I was called out to check one of my patients who had gone out for a walk and almost gotten mowed down by a mail truck because he walked right in front of it. He didn’t hear the horn blare or the screeching of the tires because he had turned the volume on his hearing aid down to nothing.

Luckily, the driver stopped in time, but the bumper had tapped his cane and caused him to go down on all fours. He walked away with only a few bruises and scraped-up knees and hands.

His daughter called in a panic, and I rushed over, helped her remove his clothing, and cleaned the gravel and dirt from his cuts. Once he was all bandaged up and relaxing in his recliner, she told me how worried she was that he might be going completely deaf. He kept nervously cutting his eyes toward us and then looking away when he caught me noticing. So, once his daughter left for work, I sat down beside him and screamed. He jumped and almost came out of the chair. That was when I knew he was going into silent mode on purpose.

“I only do it when I need some peace. Alyson and her husband bicker all the time, and that grandson bangs on those drums in the garage all night long,” he grumbles.

“I understand, but if you can’t remember to turn them back up, then you are going to get yourself hurt. And Alyson is worried. She wants to hire you a full-time caretaker.”

He frowns. “I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“I know that, and you know that, but Alyson just found her daddy on the ground, bleeding.”

He sighs and averts his eyes to his bandaged hands. “I’ll stop turning them down.”

“Thank you. I’ll tell Alyson that I gave you eardrops to clear an inner ear infection and that your hearing should be restored in a day or so.”

“I wish you could give me something to restore my sanity after listening to a thirteen-year-old pounding drums out of rhythm for three hours.”

“I can give you something that will help you sleep through it,” I offer.

He smiles. “I’ll take it.”

After finishing my rounds, I pick Elle up at Rustic Peak. She works in the front office with Sophie part-time and as an occupational therapy assistant for her aunt Madeline the rest of the day. Madeline owns and runs a renowned equine therapy camp for children.

“Are you ever going to get a car of your own?” I ask as I back us out of the gate.

We are meeting our friends downtown.

Charlotte has decided to start doing yoga on the square every other evening, and she is making us all take part.

None of us—except maybe Sophie, who used to live in New York with Charlotte—has ever tried yoga. We all bought mats and accessories in February when we were in Denver for Elle’s bachelorette party with the intent of learning after Charlotte sang its praises.

So, here we are.

“Nope. If I did, I wouldn’t get to spend as much time with you,” she says.

I roll my eyes. I’ve been both her and Bellamy’s chauffeur since we were teenagers. I worked my ass off at my mother’s shop the year before I turned sixteen and saved every single penny to be able to buy myself a car. I paid one thousand dollars cash for a canary-yellow Ford Pinto that one of Don’s coworkers had for sale, and the three of us kept the roads hot. I loved that old hunk of junk. We kept it sparkling clean and didn’t care one bit that one door wouldn’t open from the outside and the other wouldn’t open from the inside. It was like playing musical doors getting in and out of the thing.

Elle and I cried the day I traded it in.

We park in front of Bountiful Harvest Bread Company. It’s the bakery downtown, owned by Dallas and her mother.

Charlotte, Sophie, Dallas, and Bellamy are already set up on the lawn in the square. Once we join them, Charlotte runs us through some stretches and breathing exercises before we start bending our bodies in ways that God never intended.

After we finish our session, Charlotte informs us that we are going on a power walk around downtown to “cool down.”

She leads us all up the sidewalk at a breakneck pace.

“How is this considered cooling down? I’m sweating like a whore in church, and my calves are screaming,” Dallas complains.

“That’s because you haven’t gotten your heart rate up enough lately,” Charlotte tells her.

“Myer gets my heart rate up plenty,” she replies.

“Thirty minutes of lovemaking every night is not enough cardio,” Charlotte insists.

“Thirty minutes every night?!” Sophie yelps.

“She just moved in, and they don’t have any kids yet,” Dallas says matter-of-factly.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Charlotte asks.

“You’ll see,” Dallas adds.

“Walker and I are more like forty-five minutes every night, sometimes twice a night,” Elle chimes in.

“Wow, that’s some stamina. Don’t get used to it, newlywed,” Sophie tells her.

“At least y’all are getting some cardio every night or couple nights,” I grumble.

“It’s your own fault. You could be cardio-ing all over the place if you wanted to,” Charlotte says.

“Ew,” Elle snaps.

Charlotte turns to her. “What? This town is full of sexy cowboys for the picking, and she’s a hot, young, single female.”

“She’s right,” Bellamy agrees.

“I don’t think I’m in the emotional headspace just to be casually cardio-ing right now,” I tell them.

“Keep your emotions out of it and just work up a fun sweat now and again,” Charlotte suggests.

“I’m not sure I’m built to just work out with random people,” I insist.

“Why? It’s fun to interval train from time to time,” Charlotte adds.

“Are we still talking about dating, or are we talking about actual exercise?” Elle asks.

Charlotte stops and looks back at her. “Sex. We’re talking about sex. Keep up.”

She starts power-walking again.

Dallas stops. “I’m out. I’d rather get my cardio at home.”

Charlotte slows her pace and turns, looking down at her wrist. “We only have a little farther to go. I’m two thousand steps short.”

“Short of what?”

“Of ten thousand steps. Everyone needs to get at least that much.”

“Says who?” Dallas asks.

Charlotte waves her arm in the air. “My Fitbit.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a bracelet that keeps track of every step you take in a day. In the city, I’d hit thirty thousand a day without even trying. Since I moved to Poplar Falls, I’m lucky to get three thousand. You guys eat at home and ride in trucks and shit. I hardly move. I’m going to end up with a case of country ass.”

“Country ass?” Sophie asks.

“Yes, moseying around, in no hurry, and eating Payne’s mom’s delicious, carb-loaded meals. That all adds up to country ass.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. There is no way we are walking thirty thousand steps every night,” Sophie interjects.

Charlotte looks at her. “No, I’m just trying to get us to ten thousand. We can do ten thousand.”

“Yeah, I’m heading to the bakery for an after-yoga cupcake. I’ll see all of you when you’re done,” Dallas says as she waves.

“You quitter. We have to do something to keep our bodies high and tight,” Charlotte calls after her.

“Luckily, Myer likes my body low and loose just fine,” Dallas yells back.

“I think I’m out as well. Any man I encounter might as well get used to low and loose from the get-go too,” I inform.

Sophie starts to say something, and Charlotte points at her and cuts her off, “Don’t even think about it.”

“But cupcakes!” Bellamy says.

Charlotte turns to her. “Hey, you and I have to fit in wedding dresses soon. And you two,” she says, pointing between Elle and Sophie, “are finishing these steps with us. You’re our bridesmaids and support.”

“But aren’t Dallas and Sonia bridesmaids too? Why do they get out of this?” Elle asks.

Charlotte waves her hands in the air. “Focus. We don’t want to be here all night,” she demands.

“Fine,” Sophie whines.

I follow after Dallas as they solider on.

“Save me a cupcake,” Elle calls before surrendering and hoofing it behind the other girls.

Dallas and I stop back at the square and pick up all of our mats, water bottles, and towels. We load all our bags and then carry them with us to the bakery.

She unlocks the door and clicks on the lights before dropping the bags beside the door.

“You want coffee with your cupcake?”

“Love one. If you’re making a pot,” I reply.

“I am. After all that exercise, I’d better caffeinate before I go home, or I’ll face-plant, trying to get Beau and Faith to bed. Go on and pick out what you want from the display. I’ll make us a fresh pot and be right back.”

I set the bags I’m carrying beside the others and walk behind the counter. I choose a cherry-filled chocolate cupcake with a buttercream frosting from the display and settle at the counter with a napkin.

Dallas joins me after a few minutes and pours us each a cup of coffee. She grabs a confection of her own and sits beside me.

She raises her mug. “To flabby asses.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I agree as I lift mine and clink with hers.

“So, how are things, really?” she asks.

“Fine.”

She looks at me and rolls her eyes. “I’ve been where you are. I know it sucks. It’s messy and lonely.”

“I’m not lonely. I’m swamped, and my life is full of work and friends and, well, life. But I do come home to a quiet apartment every night, and I’m alone. For the first time since high school,” I start to open up.

“I get it. I married Travis right after graduation. After our divorce, I lived on my own, which I’d never done before. It takes some getting used to,” she says.

“I’ve lived alone before. When I graduated Momma and Don sold our old home, the one that Daddy built, and bought their little forever home. I moved into the apartment in town to be closer to the community college and was there by myself for years until Ricky moved in. I was always working, in class or studying though, so I didn’t have time for feelings, plus I was in a relationship most of the time, so it wasn’t like I spent every night alone,” I explain.

“Yeah, but it’s different when you are coming out of a marriage,” she insists.

I nod.

“I didn’t carry this weight of failure around with me all the time.”

She huffs.

“Oh, I remember that quite well, and the looks of sympathy I’d get as I lugged my big pregnant belly around town.”

“Right? What is that all about? It’s not like any of them were emotionally invested in my marriage. It’s like they are offering condolences with every look,” I agree.

“They mean well. You just have to roll with it. One day, it will stop.”

“Not soon enough,” I mumble.

“Do you want to know the worse part; I loved the asshole and I still miss him sometimes.”

“I loved Travis too, but man am I happy he turned out to be the jerk he did. I thought I was happy the day I married him and that I loved the life we built in Denver, but it doesn’t compare to being married to Myer and the wonderful life we have in Poplar Falls. And as far as that weight goes, you didn’t fail Ricky. He failed you and trust me the poor bastard will realize it one day when he runs into you and your new definition of happy and sees what he could have had,” she points out.

I hope so.