On Bended Knee

Chapter 9

The phone refused to ring. Lucy had been staring at it for an hour, both hoping and dreading that it would ring. She wanted to talk to Frederick about Neva's accusations, she really did. She wanted to keep seeing him, to stay happy a while longer. Avoiding the inevitable shame, if Neva's accusations were true, was high on her wish-list, too. But she was also terrified that she'd gotten everything all wrong, that she was just a local piece of tail, something that Frederick collected along his travels like someone else might collect postcards.

Lucy got up from the chair beside the phone and went to the kitchen, intending to start making dinner, but forgot her intended task and ended up pacing the apartment for several minutes before making her way back to the chair again.

She realized that she was gnawing on the nail of her pinky finger, a habit she had gotten rid of long ago. Lucy wiped her damp finger on the hem of her shirt, then pulled a sock in progress out of her knitting basket. She nearly stuffed it back in when she realized what she held.

It was the patterned sock that she was making for Frederick. She didn't know if he would hold her to her promise to make him a pair to match the ones she had worn on their first dinner date, but she'd decided to start a pair anyways. She'd peeked at his shoe size one morning when he was shaving to figure out what size to make. Knitting something for Frederick was like being close to him even when he wasn't there. But she'd been so busy lately, she hadn't made much progress.

Lucy pulled out the sock pattern she'd drawn and started knitting. Holding the soft, colorful yarn in her hands and making small repetitive motions with her tiny wooden needles, she soon felt, if not better, at least less awful.

She worked three rows and scowled at the sock, trying to find the mistake she was sure was hiding somewhere since the current row didn't match up to the previous one. The sudden jangleof the phone ringing startled Lucy so badly that she nearly stabbed herself with a knitting needle.

Lucy gasped, dropped her knitting and answered the phone.

"Lucy! How's my beautiful girl?" asked Frederick, happiness suffusing every word.

"Fine, thanks. Are you finished for the day? Can we see each other soon?" Lucy asked.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. But..." The phrase 'we need to talk' was on the tip of Lucy's tongue, but she realized that sounded too much like a segue into a breakup speech. "I have some questions. Everything is moving so fast, I was hoping to sit and talk for a while tonight."

"Sure! Of course. But you should know that I'm a better listener when you're wearing nothing... at... all," said Frederick, the last words deep and sonorous.

Despite her anxiety, Lucy chuckled. "Would you come to my place when you're done?"

"I might not be finished for a couple more hours. You sure you don't want to meet me here?"

Lucy was sure. If things went badly, she didn't want to have to drive home. The winding rural roads were a challenge on a good day. After dark and with tears streaming down her face, Lucy would be in real danger. "Here, please."

Frederick agreed and said his goodbyes.

Lucy sat down with her sock again. She'd only done a few stitches when the silence in the apartment threatened to deafen her as she waited for Frederick to arrive. She put some music on the stereo, then sat down to wait.

Two inches of sock, one and a half cups of tea, and four cookies later, Lucy heard tires crunching in her gravel driveway. Her heart rate increased by several dozen beats per minute and she felt panic threatening to swamp her. Lucy closed her eyes and exhaled through pursed lips a couple of times. By the time Frederick knocked on the door, she had composed herself.