“Fine, whatever. But you need to understand something, too, Mel. Ellen is my daughter and I have every intention of being part of her life. Nothing you say or do is going to change that.”
“I have no objection to you being part of Ellen’s life.”
“Big of you.” This time his words dripped with sarcasm.
Mel disregarded his slight. “I just felt it was a good idea for the two of us to clear the air.”
“The air is already clear,” Tim said. He clenched his fist at his side. “The only reason I see Anne Marie is because of Ellen. If it wasn’t for my daughter, I wouldn’t be anywhere near her.” In fact, if it wasn’t for Ellen, he wouldn’t even know Anne Marie.
Just as he turned the corner of the house, he came to an abrupt halt as he almost walked straight into Anne Marie. One glance at her face, and he knew she’d heard every word of his last statement.
“I have to go.” Not bothering to explain further, he snapped his cell phone shut.
“Daddy! We found Baxter!” Ellen dashed toward him, clutching Baxter’s leash, the dog at her heels.
Tim had been too unnerved to even notice them. Anne Marie held his gaze, her eyes narrowed and filled with—was that pain? He opened his mouth to speak and realized that anything he said now would only make matters worse.
“Daddy, guess what?”
“What?” he asked, without looking in his daughter’s direction. His focus was on Anne Marie as she blinked rapidly, then turned and walked into the house.
“I met a girl named April and she lives down the street. I met her at the flower shop. Baxter was with her.”
Tim started toward the house, wanting to at least try to talk to Anne Marie.
“April’s my age, too.”
“That’s nice, sweetheart.”
Ellen grabbed his shirt. “That’s not all.”
“You mean there’s more?” Obviously excited, Ellen smiled up at him. Although his heart was racing with dread, he gave the girl his full attention.
“She has a dog, too.”
“Named Baxter?”
“No, silly! Her name is Iris and she’s a Yorkie, just like Baxter.”
“You have a new friend and so does Baxter,” he said, pleased for his daughter and worried about Anne Marie at the same time.
“April wants me to teach her how to knit.”
“That’s great. I need to talk to your mother now, all right?”
“Okay. April’s going to ask her mother if she can come over and help me finish unpacking my bedroom. She likes books, too.”
Tim hugged his daughter, grateful that she’d found a new friend. He hurried toward the house, leaping up the front steps. “Anne Marie?” he called when he didn’t see her.
She came into the hallway, her arms crossed. “You don’t need to explain. You made it fairly evident that your only interest is in Ellen, and I accept that.”
Tim shook his head. “Not true.”
“Who was that, anyway? Vanessa?”
“I haven’t seen Vanessa in months. We’re finished. It was Mel.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Why? Was he looking for you—or me?”
“I told him I’d pass on the message that he phoned,” Tim said, skirting the truth but not lying, either. Not exactly.
Tim struggled to find a way to tell Anne Marie that he cared for her as well as Ellen. He wanted to confess how foolish he’d been not to recognize his own feelings. Now that he had, it seemed too late.
“Tim, listen, it’s okay,” she said. “Ellen loves you and you love her. I won’t stand between you. Our daughter is all that matters, and what goes on between the two of us isn’t important. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to unpack.”
“Can I help?” He didn’t want to leave. In fact, he was willing to do just about anything to stay.
“No.” She marched to the door and held it open for him. “Thank you for everything you did today. I appreciate it, but I want you to go now.”
He nodded. Without further argument, he walked to the door—and then hesitated. “Can we talk about this?”
“No.” Her denial was flat.
He nodded again, although he wished he could explain that hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do. Every time he was with Anne Marie, he realized how important she was to him. He’d learned a lot about life in his AA meetings, a lot about himself, too. He knew better, but he’d let his pride take over. Mel had gotten to him and he’d lashed back—with unintended consequences. Serious consequences.
He had the distinct feeling that he’d just ruined whatever chance he might still have had with Anne Marie.
Five
April 25
My friend Lydia Goetz once told me there are two kinds of knitters in the world. Those who find tangled yarn a challenge and will spend hours restoring it and those who’d rather throw out the whole thing than deal with the mess. I haven’t quite decided which type I am. What I will say is that I feel like my life’s a tangled mess but instead of knotted yarn it’s my emotions. I thought I was over Tim. Completely over him. I assumed nothing he said would have the power to hurt me. I was wrong. When I heard him say the only reason he had anything to do with me was because of Ellen I actually stopped breathing. I was incapable of drawing in air—it hurt that much. It still hurts, and that angers me even more. I have emotionally removed myself from him.
Monday afternoon, Anne Marie walked back from the French Café where she’d had lunch. As she crossed the street she saw that Lydia was inside A Good Yarn. The shop was technically closed on Mondays, but Lydia was often there catching up on paperwork.
What she needed, Anne Marie told herself, was a talk with a good friend, and there was no better friend than Lydia Goetz.
Walking all the way through the bookstore, she came out in the alley behind the yarn shop. She knocked at the back door and a moment later, Lydia unlocked it, smiling when she saw Anne Marie.
“Do you have time for a cup of tea?” Anne Marie realized she sounded wistful.
Lydia’s shoulders relaxed. “I was just thinking that. Come on in.”
Anne Marie followed her through the back of the store where boxes of yarn waited to be unpacked.
“How did the move go?” Lydia asked.
“So smoothly I could hardly believe it. I really appreciate Brad’s and the kids’ help.”
“They loved it, especially Casey. She’s been moved from one family to the next all her life and never had more than a suitcase. She found it … interesting that two people could accumulate so much stuff.”
Anne Marie groaned. “That’s not the end of it, either. I have an entire storage unit that still needs to be emptied.” The move to the apartment three years earlier was only meant to be temporary.
While she was married to Robert, Anne Marie had left over a disagreement regarding children. She’d wanted a family and, as the father of a grown son and daughter, he hadn’t. When neither of them was willing to budge, they’d separated. To be fair to Robert, Anne Marie had agreed to no kids when she’d married him. Over the years, however, her feelings had changed.
Unfortunately, Robert had remained adamant. No children. When they’d reached that