Toe
Knit 3 rnds, then begin shaping toe:
Rnds 1–6: *K6, k2 tog, rep from * to 3 sts before end of rnd, k 3 tog (56 sts). Knit 5 rnds.
Rnds 7–12: *K5, k2 tog, rep from * to end (48 sts).
K5 rnds even.
Rnds 13–17: *K4, k2 tog, rep from * to end (40 sts).
K 4 rnds even.
Rnds 18–21: *K3, k2 tog, rep from * to end (32 sts).
K 3 rnds even.
Rnds 22–24: *K2, k2 tog, rep from * to end (24 sts).
K 2 rnds even.
Rnds 25–26: *K1, k2 tog, rep from * to end (16 sts).
K 1 rnd even.
Rnd 27: *k2 tog, rep from * to end (8 sts). Cut tail of yarn, and with a tapestry needle, draw yarn through remaining sts and pull up snugly to close end of toe. Weave in ends. Make second sock, then block on sock blockers or under a damp towel.
Abbreviations
K—knit
K2 tog—knit two together
P—purl
P2 tog—purl 2 together Sl
1—slip one (as to purl)
Ssk—slip, slip, knit: slip one stitch as to knit, slip the next stitch as to knit, knit these two slipped stitches together.
St(s)—stitch(es)
Rnd(s)—round(s)
For my friends all through school, as we remember the paths we took, and didn’t take.
Jane Berghoff McMahon, Judy St. George Senecal, Cindy Thoma DeBerry, Diane DeGooyer Harmon, Cheryl Keller Farr, Kathy Faith Harris, Bev Gamache Regimbal, Yvette Dwinell Lundy
and
Carol Brulotte
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
CHAPTER
1
Vivian Leary stood motionless at the corner of the street, her eyes darting from side to side. She had no idea where she was or how she’d gotten lost. After all, she’d lived in Colville her entire life. She should know—did know—every square inch of this town. But the last thing she remembered was going out to collect the mail and that must have been hours ago.
The street didn’t look familiar and the houses weren’t any she recognized. The Henderson house at the corner of Chestnut and Elm had been her marker, but it was nowhere in sight. She remembered that the Hendersons had painted their place white with green shutters. Where was it? she wondered, starting to feel frantic. Where was it? George would be upset with her for taking so long. Oh no, how could she have forgotten? George was dead.
The weight of grief settled over her, heavy and oppressive. George, her beloved husband, was gone—taken from her just two months short of their sixtieth anniversary. It had all happened so fast….
Last November, her husband had gone outside to warm up the car before church, and a few minutes later he lay dead in the carport. He’d had a massive heart attack. The nice young man who’d come with the ambulance had told her George was dead before he even hit the pavement. He sounded as if this was supposed to comfort her. But nothing could have eased the shock, the horror, of that dreadful morning.
Vivian blinked hard, and despite the May warmth of eastern Washington, a chill raced up her bare arms. She tried to extinguish her growing panic. How was she going to find her way home?
Susannah would know what to do—but then she remembered that her daughter didn’t live in Colville anymore. Of course Susannah wasn’t at home. She had her own house. In Seattle, wasn’t it? Yes, in Seattle. She was married with two precious children. Susannah and Joe’s children. Good grief, why couldn’t she think of their names? Her grandchildren were her joy and her pride. She could picture their faces as clearly as if she was looking at a photograph, but she couldn’t recall their names.
Chrissie. The relief was instantaneous. Her granddaughter’s name was Chrissie. She was born first and then Brian was born three years later. Or was it four years? It didn’t matter, Vivian decided. She had their names now.
What she needed to do was concentrate on where she was—and where she should go from here. It was already starting to get dark and she didn’t want to wander aimlessly from street to street. But she couldn’t figure out what to do next.
If there’d been any other pedestrians around, she could’ve stopped and asked for directions to Woods Road.
No…Woods Road had been her childhood address. She hadn’t lived there since she was a schoolgirl, and that was before the war. For heaven’s sake, she should be able to remember her own address! What was wrong with her?
The place she was looking for was the house she and George had bought almost forty-five years ago, when the children were still at home. She felt a mixture of fear…and shame. A woman of eighty should know where she lived. George would be so frustrated and impatient if he ever found out about this…. Only he’d never know. That didn’t make her feel any better, though. She needed him, and he wasn’t there to help her, and that filled her with anxiety so intense, she wrung her hands.
Vivian started walking again, although she wasn’t sure where she was headed. Maybe if she kept moving, if she concentrated hard enough, the