in, then. We'll put you in Helga's rocker and get your feet up, and then we'll find you that perfect ball of yarn." She leaned over. "And for heaven's sake, the next time you're stuck in bed with nothing to knit, put out an SOS."
Elsie grinned. Marion might be British prim-and-proper, but she knit with flamboyant wool - any delivery she made would likely be eye-popping.
Elsie stepped inside the store as Marion held the door open, already feeling the warm comfort of color calling to her soul. Maybe today she'd actually be brave enough to take some of it home with her. So far, her yarn stash was... muted. Dignified. The need for something gaudy fluttered in her chest again.
Maybe one ball.
Elsie walked toward the back of the store, drawn by the sounds of light chatter. Helga sat digging through a basket of odds-and-ends yarn, and Jodi cuddled her son Sam. They both looked up in delight as she walked toward the table.
It hit her hard. She hadn't really come for the yarn at all - even the extremely colorful kind.
"It's so good to see all of you." She stumbled over the words, embarrassed at the tears suddenly pooling in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me."
"Don't you worry, dear." Marion pushed her down into the rocking chair. "A few days sick in bed leave us all feeling a bit out of sorts. You stay put, and we'll get you all fixed up."
Helga bustled over, carrying a throw. "This is one of Caro's. It'll keep you nice and warm." She tucked and prodded until Elsie felt like a well-loved burrito. "I'll go get you some tea now."
Elsie felt totally guilty. Old ladies weren't supposed to wait on her - she should have stayed in bed.
"Helga, you sit down. I'll do that." Jodi stood up, son in her arms, and looked at Elsie. "If you'll rock Mr. Crankypants here, I'll go get you tea and anything else you need."
Elsie gulped. "I'm not very good with babies." Even really cute, cuddly ones. "Why is he cranky?"
"It's a mystery. He was up every hour last night, and I have no idea why." Jodi settled Sam on Elsie's lap. "But he loves to rock, so he should be happy here for a bit. I'll name my second child after you if you can get him to go to sleep."
This seemed like something people with actual skills should be trying - but they all seemed to be busy knitting or fetching tea. Elsie cuddled the baby a bit closer and started rocking. As soon as the chair moved, his gorgeous, dark-blue eyes settled on hers. "Hello, sweet boy. Are you watching me?" She felt his body relaxing as she murmured. "Should we rock together a little? Do you like that?"
"You have the touch," said Marion approvingly, in what was a very quiet voice for the big woman. "You keep that up, and he'll go right to sleep. Good thing, too - poor Jodi could use a bit of a break."
After people waiting on her hand and foot for days, it felt really good to be useful, even if Helga or Marion could easily have taken over baby-rocking duties. Elsie settled a little deeper into the chair, keeping one eye on the increasingly dopey Sam. "What do you think is bothering him?"
"Hard to tell." Marion picked up a skein of yarn and started winding. "Could be teething. Or gas. Or sometimes babies just aren't comfortable in their own skin for a while."
Elsie rocked, and found her fingers drifting up to her pendant. It wasn't just babies who sometimes found their own skin a strange fit. Hers suddenly seemed to be an entirely different size, and she had very little idea what to do about it. "I think he's going to sleep."
"He is at that. You can put him down in his basket if you like, and I'll fetch you some yarn."
Elsie considered the warm little being curled up in her arm, his breath whiffling softly. "No, I think I'll just rock him a while. Maybe he'll sleep better that way."
Marion snorted and patted her knee. "No better medicine than a babe in your arms. You enjoy that."
Elsie grinned. "Nobody gets anything past you, do they?"
"No one half-sick, anyhow." Marion reached for her knitting needles. "So, what are you going to knit after we pry that sweet boy out of your arms?"
Elsie had already learned that half the pleasure of knitting lay in