Knitted Hearts: A Small Town Romance (Poplar Falls Book 6) Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Amber Kelly

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Cover Image: Michaela Mangum, Michaela Mangum Photography

  Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  Proofreader: Judy Zweifel, Judy’s Proofreading

  Formatter: Champagne Book Design

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books

  About the Author

  To Melissa, my Missy, my childhood best friend. You are an inspiration. A phoenix who rose from the ashes of heartache. My admiration for you is endless.

  December

  Featured in Merry Hearts

  Sonia

  The party is beginning to dwindle. We are all a little tired and a lot wobbly on our feet. I take a break from the dance floor and walk to the front porch to get some fresh air.

  The cold winter air hits my damp skin and instantly cools me down. Bellamy had large propane heaters brought in to line the porch and back deck, so I move closer to the one on my left and place my hands on the railing. It’s a beautiful night. The stars are so bright. The music drifts out through the window, and I close my eyes and soak up the Christmas cheer.

  I wait as a few guests meander out and to their cars. When a light breeze kicks up, I turn to go back in when I hear my name being called.

  I look out over the yard, and I search the darkness.

  Finally, a figure steps out of the shadows and into the light.

  Ricky.

  I look around to see if anyone else is out there.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask as my eyes come back to him.

  “I wanted to talk to you. I figured you’d be at this shindig.”

  “I don’t think you’re welcome. You shouldn’t have come here.”

  “I know. I won’t stay. I just wanted to see you and wish you a Merry Christmas. I miss you,” he says, and my stupid, traitorous heart skips a beat.

  He takes a few tentative steps forward, and I back up. He stops, puts his hands in his pockets, and lowers his head.

  “I wanted to apologize. I was angry, and I didn’t mean all those things I said at Doreen’s party.”

  He looks up, no doubt waiting for my reaction. I just stay quiet, so he continues, “I’m a mess, but I’m getting on my feet. I want to be a good husband. I want to take care of you and buy you that house. I want to make babies with you and be a family. I’d be a good dad. I know I would. I just need you to believe in me again. To believe in us.”

  He is saying all the things I wanted to hear two months ago. All of the things that I convinced myself he could be.

  “Say something,” he pleads.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I whisper.

  “Say you’ll give me a chance, give our marriage a second chance. We should be spending tomorrow night together. It’ll be our first Christmas. Aren’t you always preaching about forgiveness? All I’m asking is that you grant it to me, your husband.”

  “I do forgive you, Ricky.”

  He smiles at that and starts forward, but I put my hand up to stop him.

  “You’re saying all the right stuff. Everything that you promised me when I agreed to be your wife, and you still have the potential to be all that. But the problem is, I fell in love with who you could be and not who you are. I gave you all of me, the real me, but you never gave me the real you. I needed you to be that man, not have the potential to be him,” I confess.

  He drops his head. “You’ve let those girls get into your head and turn you against me. Now, nothing I say or do is going to make a difference, is it?”

  “This isn’t anyone’s fault, except for yours and mine. I was content, having part of you, and you were content with letting me. I’ve seen what real love looks like and what we had doesn’t compare. I want something real. I deserve it.”

  “Right,” he bites out.

  Before he can continue, the front door opens, and a giggling Elle stumbles out with Walker close behind, guiding her.

  “Whoa, what are you doing out here by yourself?” she asks when she sees me.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Walker hisses.

  Elle looks up at him in confusion. “What?” she asks.

  “If it isn’t my best friend, Walker Reid.” Ricky pokes at the hornet.

  “Braxton,” Walker yells.

  The door opens, and Braxton walks out, followed by Brandt.

  “You bellowed,” Braxton deadpans before his gaze follows Walker’s, and he grimaces.

  “Here, get Elle for me, will you?” Walker says as he hands her off to her brother without taking his eyes off Ricky.

  He doesn’t get a chance to move beyond that because, in the blink of an eye, Brandt is off the porch and has Ricky by the collar.

  “You got a lot of nerve, showing up at my house. Bellamy still has a scar on her arm from your teeth marks,” he spits in Ricky’s face.

  Ricky very unwisely grins at him and says, “Good.”

  That’s when Brandt tears back and punches him so hard that his head flies around, and blood splatters all over the front of Brandt’s shirt.

  Elle screams, and that causes everyone left from the party to come flooding out onto the porch.

  Ricky stumbles backward, and he gets up and rushes at Brandt.

  “Ricky, stop,” I scream.

  “He fucking hit me, Sonia!”

  “Brandt, don’t; he’s not worth it,” Braxton says as he lets Elle go and hops off the porch. He locks his arms around Brandt’s chest and forces him backward.

  “Get out of my yard, and don’t you step foot her
e, the clinic, or anywhere near Bellamy again,” Brandt warns.

  Ricky brings his eyes to mine as he holds his nose. Then, he looks back at Brandt. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I was drunk that night. I’d never hurt a woman in my right mind,” Ricky tries to explain.

  Braxton is the one to answer him, “The drunk excuse doesn’t cut it, man. We’ve all been shit-faced before. Hell, we’ve all been pissed off and shit-faced before, but even in that state, we’d never, ever lay a hand on a woman. An apology is good and all, but if you want to earn any of our respect or, hell, even your own respect, then you need help. Counseling, AA, anger management … something.”

  “Would any of that make a difference?” Ricky directs his question to me.

  “Not to me, but it would to the future woman in your life,” I tell him, and pain slices through me as I see the acceptance sink in.

  He starts walking backward, and without another word, he turns and struts out of sight.

  Elle is by my side in an instant. “Are you all right?” she asks.

  I nod. “I’m fine,” I tell her.

  She wraps her arms around me anyway and holds on to me. “Do you want to come and have a sleepover with me tonight?”

  “Bells has already claimed me for the night.”

  “That sneaky bitch,” she grumbles.

  “I’ll see you at the festival tomorrow night. You’re helping Mom and me at her wreath booth, remember?”

  “I’ll be there,” she assures me.

  “What did I miss?”

  We turn to see Bells in the doorway, staring at the blood on Brandt’s shirt.

  “Walker got mouthy, and I had to teach him a lesson.” He shrugs.

  “Hey, why couldn’t it have been Braxton?” Walker complains.

  “Like she’d buy that,” Braxton retorts.

  Walker looks at him. “I’ll have you know that you are indeed the bigger asshole of the two of us. Right, baby?” he calls to Elle.

  “Maybe, but you are definitely the mouthiest.”

  “That’s it; no lovin’ for you tonight,” he threatens.

  “That’s fine. I’m staying the night here with Sonia anyway,” Elle retorts.

  “You are?” I ask.

  “Yeah, Walker has to get up early for work, and we haven’t had a sleepover in a while,” she says and then turns to Bells. “You can loan me something to sleep in, right?”

  “Of course,” Bells answers.

  “See what you did?” Walker says to Braxton.

  “I can’t help she’d rather stay here than at your house.”

  “She loves my house. Tell him, Elle. It’s like staying at a five-star hotel,” Walker prompts.

  “Yep. A five-star hotel with so-so room service,” she agrees.

  “That’s the last time you get served deer jerky breakfast in bed, woman!” He feigns being hurt.

  “Come on; it’s getting cold out here. Let’s go in and put some warm PJs on,” Bells beckons.

  We get snuggled into bed with a bowl of popcorn to watch The Santa Clause while Brandt sees the last of the guests out and locks up.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Bells asks me.

  “I am. It’s weird, but I think I needed to hear his apology to let go. It gave me some kind of closure or something,” I admit.

  “Good. Now, you’re free to find your happily ever after,” Bells declares.

  “I don’t know about that, but I do feel a little freer.”

  “Do you guys remember when we were in high school, and Dusty Owensby broke up with me? I was so devastated and swore I’d never love anyone as much as I loved him. I thought my heart couldn’t possibly recover,” Elle says.

  We nod. How could we forget?

  “Do you remember what Gram told us? That God had our husbands caught in a bush somewhere and that we shouldn’t be worried when someone broke our hearts, but thankful because that person had been in our way.”

  “Yeah, vaguely. I remember us thinking she was bananas, talking about that bush,” I answer.

  “She said Abraham was told to take his son, Isaac, up on Mount Moriah and offer him as a sacrifice. He was confused about why God would ask this of him when he promised him this son, but he was obedient even though he didn’t understand. At the last moment before he brought the knife down, God stopped him. He had a goat trapped in a bush for the sacrifice. He just wanted to know Abraham trusted him. Then, she said that we should trust if a boy walks out of our life, then he wasn’t the one. That God had our husband trapped in a bush somewhere, so we should just live our lives, find ourselves, and when the time was right, God would set him loose for us.”

  “Do you believe it’s true?” I ask her.

  “I didn’t until he set Walker loose on me. Walker Reid—who would have guessed that?”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Bellamy adds.

  “He had Brandt trapped in a bush while I was wasting time with Derrick.”

  “Well, if he has mine trapped somewhere, maybe he’ll finally set him loose now that Ricky is out of the way. Too bad I had to marry him before I realized he wasn’t the one. Ugh, I’m going to be a twenty-four-year-old divorcée. Gross.”

  “Maybe it’s not you who isn’t ready. Maybe he has to get the one he picked out for you sorted before he’s ready to be set loose. That was the case with Walker,” Elle ponders.

  That’s a good point.

  “Hmm, you might be right. I guess I’ll just live my life and let it work itself out.”

  “That’s my girl,” Bells says.

  We hear a throat clear, and our eyes move to the door. Brandt is standing there, grinning at us.

  “You girls look comfy. I guess this means I’m on my own tonight, huh?” he asks Bells.

  “Looks like it unless I make it to the end of the movie, still awake. I might sneak in with you, but don’t wait up because I make no promises,” she says before popping a piece of popcorn in her mouth and pressing play on the remote.

  I lay my head on her shoulder.

  “You girls enjoy your night. And just shout if you need anything.”

  “Another bottle of wine would be great,” Bells says.

  “Red or white?”

  “Red,” she and I both say.

  “Coming right up,” he says before walking off.

  “Yep, totally worth the wait,” I say.

  Foster

  “Is this all of them?” Truett asks as we carry the last of the poinsettias from the truck.

  Myer’s mother had us pick them up from a nursery in Aurora this afternoon. People ordered them from the church and will be coming to get them at her table in the market during the Poplar Falls tree lighting and Christmas festival tonight.

  “This is it,” I inform him.

  “Great. I’m starving. Let’s get in line before it gets too crowded,” he suggests.

  All of the restaurants in town have trucks set up to serve the festival. So, we deliver the last of the pots to Beverly and set out in search of food.

  We grab a couple of cheesesteaks and take a stroll down Main Street to see what all the vendors have to offer.

  Everything from handmade scarves and gloves, ornaments, Christmas trees, wine gift baskets, quilts, soaps and lotions, cornhole boards to homemade pies, cakes, and cookies are for sale.

  Kids are lining up to see Santa. We see Myer and Dallas waiting for their turn with Beau and Faith. Myer is holding his baby girl, and Dallas has Beau’s hand.

  “Hey, guys. Where did you get those?” Myer asks.

  “Butch has a truck over past the hardware store,” Truett tells him.

  “Awesome. Beau and I want one.” He gestures toward his son.

  He is going over his Christmas list with Dallas because he doesn’t want to forget anything once he makes it to Santa. “… and a horse of my very own,” he ends.

  “A horse and a dirt bike? Baby, maybe you should ask for just one. That’s a lot for Santa,” Dallas tries to persuade
him.

  “I’ve been very good this year, and I’m a great big brother,” he pleads his case.

  “That’s all true,” Dallas says, clearly defeated.

  She gives Myer a look, and he grins. We’ve had Beau’s new gelding for a few months now, and Myer has been working with him to make sure he is ready for his son. We already devised the workaround concerning the dirt bike, which Dallas thinks he’s still a little too young for. I’m sneaking the gelding over to their house in the wee hours of Christmas morning and tying him to the tree in their front yard with a bow and note from Santa, explaining that he couldn’t fit both the horse and a dirt bike in his sleigh so one would have to wait until next year and that he hopes the new bedroom made it up to him this time.

  “Sonia,” Dallas calls out, and she stops and walks over to us.

  “Is your mom selling tree skirts this year?” she asks her.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Will you have her save me one of the white ones with the embroidered manger scene if she has any left? I’ll come straight there after our pictures with Santa,” Dallas says.

  “I’m headed there now to help her. I’ll grab it for you.”

  “Thank you!”

  She looks up at me and smiles before she walks off in the direction of the market.

  “I’ll be back in a second,” I tell Truett as I hand him my half-eaten sandwich.

  I hurry to catch up to Sonia.

  I make it just as she steps behind a booth filled with all sorts of Christmas decor. I come up to the front and start browsing the merchandise while she chats with her mother before spotting me.

  “Hey, Foster. Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asks.

  “Um, I’m looking for a gift for my mom. She’s hard to shop for.”

  “We have a wreath-making station. You could make her one with your own two hands. Mothers are suckers for handmade gifts,” she whispers out of her own mom’s earshot.

  “I’m afraid I’m not very crafty,” I confess.

  “That’s why I’m here. To help make things beautiful.”

  “Oh, I think you are doing a fine job at that,” I say out loud.

  She blushes. “You want to give it a try?”

  “Yeah, I do,” I agree.