Sasha’s Dad (15 page)

At least, that was what Daddy thought. And truly, she did work with the llamas, but she also spent quite a bit of time with Claire in her house or more recently, in the small cottage where Claire was setting up her yarn shop. They were working on the sweater and Claire said a friend was coming over to help them.

“You really think so?” Naomi prodded Sasha.

“What? Um, yeah.” She hoped her encouragement was all Naomi needed. Naomi was a nice girl under all her complaining and whining, but she had a lot of problems. Sasha didn’t care that Naomi had cut her hair spike-short and dyed it blacker than coal, a sharp contrast to her pale skin and sky-blue eyes. And she had to admit the pierced eyebrow wasn’t something she wanted, but if Naomi liked it, that was all that mattered.

It was Naomi’s annoying habit of going on and on with her “poor me” complaints that drove Sasha crazy. Sasha wasn’t always happy with herself, but she knew her dad, Grandma and Grandpa Archer and Aunt Ginny loved her. And now she could add Claire to that list. She smiled.

And then looked at Naomi.

No one else would sit with Naomi. Sasha had invited her to the sleepover birthday party because she liked having all her friends around her. But a couple of the other girls had made it clear that Naomi freaked them out.

“I mean, if he thought it was going to impress me that he reads graphic novels, that’s pretty lame, isn’t it?” Naomi went on.

“Yeah—obviously.” Phew. Sasha had picked up the gist of the conversation. Naomi was still talking about her current crush, Nathan. Naomi acted as if she didn’t like him, but Sasha knew that if Naomi didn’t like someone she didn’t bother talking about him or her.

“That’s what I figured.” As Naomi thrust a hand through her hair, the jacket sleeve fell back and Sasha caught a glimpse of her pale forearm.

“Naomi, what happened?” She gasped out the question. There were angry red scratches on Naomi’s translucent skin. Deep scratches.

“Nothing. I mean, it’s from the prickly bush in front of our house.”

“What did you do, skateboard into it?” Naomi had been the best skateboarder in their neighborhood, but Sasha hadn’t seen her on her board for quite a while. Not since last summer, anyway.

“Yeah, whatever.” Naomi turned back into her despondent self. Sasha was bothered by this side of Naomi, but tolerated it because she felt she saw past the facade. Sasha had liked the word
facade
ever since she’d heard it on the trip to downtown Annapolis with Dad and Claire. The historical buildings in Annapolis often had facades.

The bus stopped where Sasha and Naomi normally got off. When Sasha didn’t move into the aisle, Naomi looked at her quizzically.

“I get off at Llama Fiber Haven today.”

“Oh, right.” Naomi walked down the aisle without a goodbye and climbed out of the bus.

Sasha watched her friend walk into their neighborhood, head down. Naomi sure had been acting weird, ever since she’d quit gymnastics last month. She’d really pissed off her parents, who wanted Naomi to be a “major competitor” in gymnastics.

Naomi wanted more time to chill, but Mr. and Mrs. Roberts had flipped out and grounded Naomi for a month.

Sasha’s thoughts turned to Claire as the bus left from the town center and headed out to the country highway. There were only a handful of kids still on the bus. Sasha knew several of them, but no one very well—they were from the outskirts of town, whereas Sasha had grown up in one of the established neighborhoods in Dovetail.

Sasha all but leaped off the bus when it ground to a halt in front of the Llama Fiber Haven sign. With a toss of her ponytail she bounced down the gravel road to Claire’s house. Before she went past the front cottage, Claire appeared on the small porch and waved.

“Hey, Sasha! I’m in here—come on in.”

“Hey.” Sasha climbed the two steps and entered the cottage behind Claire. The place had been musty and dank last week, but now it seemed brighter, cleaner. Claire wore rubber cleaning gloves and there was a big bucket of sudsy water in the middle of the floor. That explained the difference.

“Wow, Claire, this is great! Do you want me to do anything?”

“I’m almost finished with the cleaning. I thought we could start stocking the shelves with some of the yarn that’s come in, then we’ll sit down and work on your dad’s sweater until Mr. Black comes over to help us.” Donald was often part of their knitting time, and he and Sasha had a great rapport.

“Okay. Where’s the yarn?” Sasha looked around the room. The rows of shelves were all new, sort of like a bookstore.

“See those boxes in the corner? If we take it one by one, we’ll get it unpacked in no time. We’ll keep the yarn in plastic bags for now, but at least we can inventory what’s here.” Claire wiped her forehead with the back of her arm.

Sasha liked how Claire’s skin was pink and her hair all wavy around her face. Sasha often tried to curl her own hair, but it was stick-straight, like her dad’s.

“No problem.” Sasha went to the corner and Claire followed her.

“You know I owe this all to you, kiddo.”

“What?”

“This store.” Claire tucked a strand of Sasha’s hair behind her ear. Sasha loved when Claire did stuff like that.

“I wanted to have a yarn shop eventually, but not until I was on my feet with the llamas. Plus, there was the issue of being able to knit myself. You’ve taught me so much, Sasha!”

Sasha felt her face grow hot, but she wasn’t embarrassed. She was proud she’d helped Claire.

“Thanks, Claire.”

“Don’t thank me, honey. Thank your mother for teaching you how to knit.”

“So, it’s like she’s the one who taught you, isn’t it, Claire?” Sasha smiled at her.

Claire’s face stilled and she bit her bottom lip. Sasha always did that, too, when she didn’t want to cry.

“Are you okay, Claire?”

Claire wrapped her arms around Sasha. “I’m more than okay, Sasha.” Sasha slipped her arms around Claire’s middle.

“I love you, Claire.”

Claire’s breath stopped and it sounded as if she hiccupped. “I love you, too, pumpkin.”

“Am I interrupting a female moment?” Mr. Black’s smooth voice came from the open doorway.

“Not at all.” Claire straightened up, walked over to Mr. Black and gave him a peck on the cheek. It was obvious to Sasha that Claire loved being around him. He was so funny whenever they knitted together.

Sasha loved Mr. Black, too. He told the best stories while they worked and taught her about the history of knitting.

“Hi, Claire, darling.” He kissed Claire on both of her cheeks, in that European style. His twinkling eyes focused on Sasha. “And how’s our princess?”

Sasha wouldn’t normally like it if anyone else called her a princess—she was twelve, after all. But Mr. Black said it in a nice way, not a sarcastic way.

“I’m fine, thanks.” She grinned at him. “Do you really think we can finish the sweater by Father’s Day?”

“Father’s Day? That’s in June.” Mr. Black nodded. “We’ll have this done well before then.”

“Don’t forget we’ll have to take a break when we get closer to the Sheep and Wool Festival,” Claire said. Then she motioned to the chairs around the huge oak table she’d bought for the store.

“Let’s sit down and get started.”

“Donald, thank you so much for the time you’ve given us. It’s made a huge difference.”

“Glad to help.” He looked at Claire and winked. “I have a feeling the recipient’s going to appreciate this more than you can imagine.”

Claire sighed. “We’ll see.” Did he sense the hope that had started to unfurl in her heart?

“Yeah!” Sasha didn’t hesitate.

They walked up to the house together, the daylight still bright and the birds singing incessantly from the surrounding trees.

“Look!” Claire pointed to a hawk flying low. She didn’t regret serving her years on the job, but she wouldn’t trade an afternoon like this to go back to D.C. for anything.

“Cool.” Sasha’s tone indicated that she comprehended the awe of the bird’s territorial swoop. She leaned back to watch the raptor, its red tail glistening gold in the sunlight. Her huge backpack was incongruous as it hung on her thin frame. She looked as if she’d tip over backward with the slightest breeze.

“Isn’t that backpack awfully heavy?”

“No, I’m used to it.” Sasha straightened and started walking with Claire again.

“I don’t get it. I don’t remember ever carrying around such a huge backpack, even in high school.”

“Yeah, Dad and Aunt Ginny always say the same thing.” Sasha shrugged. “We don’t use our lockers—they’re too small. Plus it’s easy to forget a book, and then you get in trouble the next day ’cause your homework isn’t done. It’s easier just to carry everything with you.”

“You don’t use your lockers?” Getting her own locker in seventh grade had been a highlight of middle school for Claire.

“No, it takes too long to get to them between classes. We only have three minutes.”

Sasha stopped and stared at Claire. “What did you and my mom do?”

Ah, yes, Natalie. Sasha’s connection with Natalie. Claire had to keep that firmly in her mind. Or else it would kill her when Sasha decided she’d learned all she could about Natalie. Like it or not, the day would come when Sasha didn’t need her anymore. When she didn’t need these wonderful afternoons of sharing and working side by side.

Claire ignored the tug of grief and smiled at Sasha. “We had backpacks, but the most we ever carried was one or two books, maybe a folder. Between classes we’d carry a binder with books piled on top of it in our arms. We put gym clothes and bathing suits in the backpacks.”

“Bathing suits?”

“Yes, we had swimming in gym class. Don’t you?”

“No, but I think they do at the high school.”

“Oh.” Claire had assumed the new building would’ve been bigger and better than the old one where she, Dutch and Natalie had attended middle school.

As they resumed walking, the house came into sight. Claire liked how it stood back from the road and the welcoming vision it offered.

A school memory popped up and she laughed.

“I remember one time when we’d all started wearing bras. Your mom and I had bought ours together at the discount store in South River.” Claire bent and pulled a blade of grass up and twirled it in her fingers.

“Somehow when we got back home, we mixed the bags up. I couldn’t figure out why my bra was so tight, and your mom had to use safety pins to make hers stay on.”

Claire had blossomed early and still maintained her more buxom, athletic build. Natalie had been petite and, back in sixth grade, waifish.

“We had to change before and after gym, and one of the other girls saw my back and said ‘Claire, your bra’s digging into your skin.’ I was mortified.

“Another girl noticed your mom, with her bra hanging from her, and the safety pins. Natalie said, ‘My Mom got it big enough to grow into.’ Girls of that age, as I’m sure you know, can be really cruel, and one smart-mouth made a comment that your mom needed to stuff her bra.”

Sasha’s eyes were huge as she’d obviously never heard this story.

“Your mother may have been small, but she let that girl know she’d be stuffing her mouth with her fist if she didn’t shut up. The girl never bothered her again.”

“My mom was that tough?”

“Oh, yeah. If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t know how I would’ve made it through middle or high school. Even though she was the half-pint and I was a bit of an Amazon for those years. She was the stronger, more vocal one. She knew how to stick up for herself and her friends.”

“Wow.” Sasha stared at the ground as she absorbed this facet of her mother.

“I’ll bet you’re like that,” Claire said. “Are there friends you’re helping out?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, we all help one another out. Like when Katie Kirkland got her hair cut and it wasn’t that great but we—the girls—all said it was pretty. We all basically told Melanie Danitti to shut up when she was making fun of Katie. Melanie’s always bothering somebody.”

“I’ve found over the years that the people who cause the most commotion often need the most love.” Claire thought about what she’d said; she didn’t want Sasha to get the wrong impression. “I don’t mean you should
ever
put up with someone else’s abuse, even if it seems like regular teasing. But it helps me to realize that the other person is hurting, so that I can let it go more easily.”

“Yeah, I had a girlfriend when school started who was so nice, but she never wanted to do what I wanted to. She’d try to meet at the convenience store, which my dad would, like, never let me do, and all she did was complain about her parents.”

“Let me guess—she wanted to meet boys, too?”

“Duh.” Sasha’s ponytail bounced in response to her nod.

“Are you still friends with her?”

Sash squinted and her lips pulled down.

“No, not really. But it’s not like I’m mean to her. If she wants to sit with me at lunch I don’t move to another table or anything. But I don’t hang out with her after school.”

“I’d say that’s a good decision on your part.”

They’d reached the house and Claire was impressed with the mature way Sasha handled her relationships. She was so easygoing about it, too. Claire didn’t remember any of middle school as easygoing, except for the time she and Natalie were together.