Page 12 of High Velocity

I left the sad results of my continued efforts this afternoon on the couch when frustration finally drove me outside. My laptop is open on the coffee table where I watched about two hours of tutorials, and still I ended up with mysterious knots and even a fist-sized hole in my knitting.

I can’t wait for Janey to show me what I’m doing wrong.

Ginger is the first to barge in when I make it to the front door and open it. Janey follows behind, carrying two massive paper bags.

“What’s all that?”

“Dinner,” she explains, slipping past me to set the bags on the kitchen counter.

Ginger is sticking close, her nose sniffing the air.

“That’s a boatload of food for the two of us,” I point out.

“It’s not just for us,” she clarifies, a guilty look on her face. “JD called just as I was leaving to pick it up. The search was halted for the next twelve hours to give everyone a rest, so he was about to head home. I haven’t seen JD in a few days and I have to head over to the ranch to look at an injured horse after dinner, so I told him to come here and eat with us. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. We’ll wait to eat until he gets here.”

Janey has already spotted my butchered handiwork and is moving toward it when she corrects me.

“They get here. Jackson is with him.”

I was just grabbing some plates from the cupboard, when my hands freeze midair. My body reacts to that piece of news with a racing heart. For a moment I’m worried I’m having a panic attack, but then I realize I’m feeling a different kind of anxiety, one of anticipation.

There’s something mildly threatening but also exciting about the thought of Jackson in my space. I think it’s because of the way he looks at me with such intense focus. It makes me feel uneasy, a little vulnerable, but also seen.

“Is it too much?” Janey’s soft question drags me from my thoughts. “I can call JD and tell him to?—”

“No, it’s fine,” I rush to assure her, squaring my shoulders.

Cowering in a corner is not my style, and that’s what I feel I’ve been doing for a while now. Enough of that. I’m not a fan of these beaten-down victim vibes I apparently give off.

After pulling out an extra plate, I join Janey, who is plucking at my creation.

“Is it bad?” I ask.

She tries to hold back a snort but almost chokes on the effort.

“Uh…it’s definitely not salvageable.”

Brutal, but honest.

I take it on the chin, but let out a strangled squeak when she starts unravelling my stitches.

“I’m sorry, but it has to be done,” she states as she deftly rolls the untangled loops of yarn back on the skein. “We have some time before the guys get here to make a fresh start. Come sit next to me, we’ll do it together.”

For the next twenty minutes, she patiently guides me through every stitch, making quiet corrections when I fuck up, until I get the hang of it. By the time a soft knock sounds on the door, I barely even need to think about what my hands are doing.

“I’ll get it. Don’t stop until you get to the end of this row,” Janey instructs me as she gets to her feet.

I try to focus on what I’m doing, but it’s hard when I’m acutely aware of the two additional bodies entering what has become my safe space. I glance over to see Ginger greet both men with enthusiasm. Determined to make it to the end of the row, I don’t even acknowledge their presence, but doggedly plod on while Janey engages them in conversation in the kitchen.

When I reach the end of my row, I secure the last loop with a clothes pin so it doesn’t unravel itself, and blow out a sigh of relief as I put it aside. Then I get to my feet and turn my attention to the kitchen. I find three pairs of eyes fixed on me, looking amused. Jackson is the first to speak.

“What are you making?”

“A blanket,” I return, doing my best to sound normal, even though I feel a little flustered. “I was making a dog’s breakfast out of it, so Janey showed me how. I’m new to knitting.”

“Aren’t you supposed to do that with needles?” he probes.

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