Page 39

Wren

“ T here you go, sweetie, just like that.”

My fingers tangle in the purple yarn as I attempt to wrap it around my hook and fingers correctly.

“Are you sure about that?” I frown, holding the mess up between us.

Geri laughs, holding her perfectly stitched granny square. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

She demonstrates again how to twist the yarn over the hook, easing it through the open space at the start of the blanket.

Behind her, my eyes catch on a cross-stitch picture of a log cabin surrounded by tall trees and pillowy clouds.

“That’s a beautiful picture,” I say, nodding toward it.

She peeks over her shoulder and then returns to the work in her hands with a soft smile. “I’ve had that thing for… goodness , my whole life, it feels like.”

She peers up at me again as she stops moving her crochet hook. “Donnie made that for me back when we first got married. He joined the army, and I was home alone with our girls. We missed him so much when he was gone. The day that came in the mail, I just cried and cried.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, but she doesn’t stop smiling as she turns her attention back to the yarn.

“Well, he did an amazing job. The whole thing feels so…peaceful and cozy.”

She nods. “It is. But the back’s my favorite part. Do you wanna see it?”

Curious what could be on the back, I nod.

Geri stands and carefully removes the large frame from the wall, flipping it over. On the back is a handwritten note in cursive.

Moving in closer, I begin to read the words.

To my beautiful wife,

Thank you for all the warm and loving years you’ve given to me. You gave me two beautiful girls who mean the world to me. You have always put me before yourself and always tried to make me happy in every way. For this and so many other reasons, I will always love you.

If I leave this world before you, this picture will remind you that I am waiting somewhere for you.

Love you with all my heart,

Donnie

I barely finish the letter before my eyes begin to mist and my throat tightens. “That’s beautiful, Geri.”

She smiles softly and nods as she hangs the picture back on the wall, adjusting it just so, ensuring it’s perfectly straight.

“He was a sweet man. I was lucky to have him.”

We sit back down, and I pick up the yarn again, though I’m not sure I’ll be able to see through the tears welling in my eyes.

I jump as a knock echoes on the doorframe of Geri’s room.

“Hey, I’m gonna order some lunch—want anything?” My friend Dee pops her head in the doorway.

I finally convinced her to move closer. She’s been at Sunset Haven for a few days, and already half of the residents prefer her to me.

I’m just glad to have a real friend at work again.

Working with people you don’t necessarily vibe with can make even a good job feel heavier at times.

I generally get along with most people, but there are definitely a few I would prefer not to associate with.

“Yes,” I answer quickly, dropping the tangled mess down on the small table. “Geri, thank you for teachin’ me how to crochet. It was…”

She laughs. “It gets easier once you get the hang of it.”

In the weeks since her husband’s passing, she and I have spent a lot of time together. I obviously have a job to do while I’m here, but I make sure to sit with her at least once every day.

She started teaching me— or attempting to teach me —how to crochet a few days ago. I’m slowly but surely getting better at it.

“Well, I won’t give up yet. But I’m definitely takin’ a break for now. Maybe some food will help me understand a regular versus a double crochet,” I joke.

“Have a good lunch.” She smiles and returns to working on the new project in her lap.

After giving Dee my food order, I walk out to my car to grab the water bottle I left there this morning. As I shut my door, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket.

“Hey,” I answer, placing the phone to my ear.

“Hey. What are you doin’?”

“About to have some lunch.”

“What are you gonna get? Wait, wait—let me guess... Pasta?”

I roll my eyes. “ No … I eat more than just pasta, y’know.”

“You do ?” Indie gasps. “Shocking. What’s on the menu, then?”

“Soup.”

“ Hmm . That actually sounds good. I haven’t had a wet meal in?—”

“What’re you talkin’ about wet meals?” I hear Wilder ask in the background. “You wanna know my favorite wet meal, Wildflower?”

Indie and Wild begin to bicker, and then she’s laughing, her voice getting farther away from the phone.

“I’ll talk to you later, love y’all,” I holler into the phone before hanging up. I know she’s going to be completely occupied now.

As I walk back inside, my mind races with thoughts of the date I have this weekend.

I don’t know if it’ll lead anywhere.

But I do know I’m finally moving forward.

And maybe—just maybe—someone out there is waiting to meet me .