Return to Huckleberry Hill by Jennifer Beckstrand

Author:Jennifer Beckstrand [Beckstrand, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-04-03T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Fern glanced at the bird clock that hung in Anna’s kitchen. She still had more than an hour before she had to leave. There was plenty of time to teach Reuben how to purl. She turned her gaze to Reuben and grimaced inwardly. She’d taught Reuben how to hold the needles correctly, but he still held them in his fists as if his fingers were as thick as cucumbers. When it came to knitting, he truly was a lost cause. But Anna would be heartbroken if Fern didn’t at least attempt to teach Reuben how to knit. If he could manage to make a pot holder, Anna would probably be satisfied.

Fern bent over her own knitting. A pot holder might take Reuben weeks. Lord willing, Anna would figure out for herself that Reuben was not meant to knit and release him before he accidentally started a fire or something.

Not that anyone could conceivably start a fire with yarn and a pair of knitting needles, but Reuben’s attempts at knitting would surely bring some sort of disaster upon them.

Fern and Reuben sat on the sofa, where Fern could guide every stitch Reuben made. Anna had her own knitting gathered about her in the rocking chair, and Felty sat in his recliner reading The Budget. Anna hadn’t asked him to join their little knitting party, and he hadn’t offered.

Fern laid her knitting in her lap. She shouldn’t have brought it. Keeping Reuben from tangling his fingers into a knot commanded all her attention. “Wrap the yarn around the back needle,” she said, showing him how to scoop up a new loop for the hundredth time, irritated that when her fingers brushed against his, the touch tingled all the way up her arm. Reuben dominated far too many of her thoughts lately. Why should she care that he spent time with Sadie Yoder or smiled at the Yutzy twins as if they were his closest friends? Whom Reuben liked was none of her business. She was in town to help him forgive John and convince him to come home.

How could she let the mere touch of his skin against hers or a bright, heart-stopping smile send a shiver snaking down her spine?

They both laughed when Reuben’s entire first row slipped from his needles and landed on Anna’s dog, Sparky, who was napping at Reuben’s feet. Reuben stared down at his sorry attempt at knitting. “I think we can rightly say that I have made a blanket for Sparky.” Even though it was obvious he wasn’t going to learn to love to knit, he smiled at her, his eyes alight with something deep and warm.

Fern’s heart thudded beneath her ribs. Reuben would do anything for his mammi. It was one of his best qualities.

“You’re coming along just fine,” Anna said, slipping into the voice mammis reserved for hopeless grandchildren whom they loved no matter how bad they were at knitting. “You’ve only been knitting for twenty minutes, and you’re already better than Esther Shirk.

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