Evergreen Everleigh - The Wattys 2020

Chapter Twenty - Small Wooden Gifts

Chapter Twenty

Small Wooden Gifts

I was in my regular haunt in the grassy patch in the middle of the forest, lying on my back. The afternoon heat was dense and the now shaded sun was still pressing on my chest and forehead, causing me to sweat. 

I had snuck out here to gain a reprieve from Aster and Teasel who had been asking me to tell them more stories. I didn't have the heart to refuse so I thought it better to disappear and find some peace amongst the forest. Birds are perched nearby and there is a distant smell of lavender that tickles my nose, undoubtedly from the nearby glasshouse. 

I close my eyes and try to forget everything; where I am, who I am and why I came to Freesia Fields in the first place.   

When I hear a cough somewhere to my left, my eyes snap open and a small squeak escapes my lips. I sit up to see Yarrow approaching from the sheltered side of the clearing with a basket in hand. I feel only a moment of disappointment that my silent time is now over before a warmness spreads across my chest when I see the smile Yarrow gives me. 

Today he is wearing an olive-green t-shirt that is slightly too long for him and brown corduroy trousers, with his usual suspenders. He is barefoot and walks with his hips swung low. I want to ask him one day how he can look so relaxed in every movement he takes if he could somehow teach me to unravel the knots that hold my body together so tightly.  

"You could have been a crazy axeman, for all I knew," I scold, sitting up and leaning against a tree stump. I roll my peach t-shirt sleeves up higher and cross my legs over one another. 

He grins at this, as though he has known no greater joy than terrifying me. He sits down beside me, leaving enough space between us that anxiety doesn't ripple through my body.  

"Mind if I sit?" He asks, and I gesture to his already crossed legs on the mossy forest floor, raising an eyebrow. 

He grins wider, which I did not think was possible. His teeth are perfectly even and blindingly white. 

"Pack a picnic?" I ask, successfully keeping my tone even. I had already eaten breakfast. I had done that much and I didn't want to do anymore than that.

His grin falters now and he pulls up the basket onto his lap. He looks suddenly unsure of himself. The frown between his brows is so unlike him that the corners of my mouth twitch.

"No," He says, looking at the ground. I think he might actually be blushing which causes me to flush. I flex my hand rather than scratch my arm. "Actually, Wister would only let me bother you out here if I was going to help you relax." 

I have a sudden urge to hug Wister for knowing that eating just enough to stay alive is tying me in all kinds of new knots.

"So, what did you come up with?" I say, much quieter now. 

I am suddenly fearful of Yarrow when I never have been before. I glance at him and remind myself that this is the same Yarrow as always. His hair is the same kind of ruffled as it was when he took my suitcase from outside the house on my first day here. Now, though, it all feels different somehow. 

"Well, okay," Yarrow looks suddenly unsure.

Instead of explaining, he just opens the basket and I peer inside. I immediately smile when he pulls out two balls of wool and a pair of needles. The sight of baby pink and mint green wool balls in Yarrow's hands, held slightly aloof as he looks embarrassed, makes me convulse laughing. 

Yarrow watches me, frowning. I wipe away the stream of happy tears that have collected under my eyes.  

"Knitting? Seriously?" Yes, he is definitely blushing and for a split second, I feel as powerful as an empress.

"Well, can you knit?" He asks, suddenly defiant.

I shake my head, my grin still hurting the sides of my cheeks, but for his pride's sake, I try to stop laughing. 

"Well then, I'm going to teach you." He proclaims as though this is the cure to all of my many problems. He hands me the baby pink roll of wool and a set of needles. Silently, I place the wool ball back in his lap and take the mint instead. 

"More my shade," I chirp and see his frown at the prospect of using pink. 

"Okay then," He says, taking a deep breath, "Are you ready to learn the wonders of knitting?" His genuine excitement makes the tasks seem less daunting. "I warn you, your life may never be as positively thrilling again, so be prepared to peak young."

My answering grin is enough for him to continue.

However, forty-five minutes later, it is obvious that I am entirely useless at knitting. Frustration courses through me as I miss another loop of wool on my needle. My pattern of knitting looks sparse and loose, whereas Yarrow's baby pink eight-inch square is smooth and is already beginning to resemble a scarf. 

When I throw my wool and needles down into my lap and collapse back onto the forest floor with an exasperated sigh, Yarrow looks up. It's his turn to try not to laugh. 

"You were making really great progress, you shouldn't give up," he chides. My eyebrows are in danger of disappearing back into my head at this. 

"Let's face it, this isn't for me," I say, emphasising my tone of finality so that he can't force me to do any more knitting.         

There is a pause for nearly five minutes where Yarrow picks up my needles and wool and begins undoing the wool and correcting my mistakes. His breathing is paced and calm, and I watch his face closely. He is full of concentration. 

"So, what is?" He asks, not looking at me, but inspecting a string of holes in the wool with bemusement. "Your thing, I mean."

"I don't know. I guess I know better what isn't for me," I answer, swirling a finger around in the cool mud by my hands. "Running, for example, is not for me. Neither is sewing, though my grandmother tried to teach me."

"You'll find your thing." He says, confidently. I want to ask him how he can possibly be sure but I'd rather take this moment to relish someone having complete faith in me. 

"Thank you," I murmur and though I close my eyes I think that I can feel Yarrow's gaze on me. It is easier to close my eyes than meet his gaze.

"You look calm," He remarks. I open my eyes and glance down at myself. With my ankles crossed and my arms behind my head, I guess I do look relaxed. "At least compared to when we first met." He adds, still looking at me. 

I sit up and play with the hem of my t-shirt, thinking back to the car ride here when I slept the whole way and woke to a world of colour, as we whizzed past the fields of flowers. 

When I think back to the first time I saw Yarrow's suspenders and caramel hair, I realise now how much I have changed in just a short few weeks. The Everleigh then would never be comfortable having anyone this close. 

"You almost look like you fit in," He quips, smiling broadly now. I barely move when he leans in towards me, but at the last minute, before I have decided whether I am comfortable with any of this, he pulls back and withdraws something from his back pocket.

"We all thought there was only one thing missing," He says, holding up a gift with more worth to me than ancient jewels or beautiful garments.

I hold my breath all the way back to the house until I am gripped in a hug from all of the girls, with a length of yellow ribbon weaving through my hair.