Debbie Macomber - A Good Yarn

She groaned, rolled over and opened one reluctant eye to stare at the antique clock on her bedstand. Her grandmother didn’t have a digital clock in the whole house. The big hand was on the six and the little hand on the five. It was five-thirty!

“Courtney!” her grandmother shouted. “It’s too hard for me to go up and down these stairs, but I will if I have to. Now get up!”

Tossing aside the warm covers, Courtney staggered out of bed and to the top of the staircase. “I’m up.” She just didn’t know why.

“Thank goodness.” Vera Pulanski paused on the third step and looked greatly relieved to be spared the agony of the climb. “I’ll be ready to leave in ten minutes.”

Courtney stared blankly into space until she realized that wherever her grandmother was going, she intended on taking Courtney with her. “It’s only five-thirty.”

Her grandmother turned back to face her. “I know what time it is. I want to be at the pool when it opens at six.”

“Oh.” This was dreadful. Yes, they’d discussed swimming but Courtney had no idea that she’d have to get up at this ungodly hour. In fact, the entire discussion was a distant and rather unpleasant memory. Her grandmother had said that if Courtney wanted to lose weight, she should start exercising. She vaguely recalled that she’d agreed to give swimming a try, more to satisfy her grandmother than anything else.

Needing to hurry, Courtney dug her bathing suit out of her bottom drawer and prayed it still fit. A lot of her clothes didn’t anymore, and she had to go through several contortions to zip up her jeans. Most of her shirts no longer buttoned without leaving a gap, so she wore them open over a tank top. It wasn’t so easy to hide her weight gain with jeans, though, and already the stitching was threatening to rip.

“I have an extra towel.” Her grandmother’s voice floated up the stairs again. “Don’t take any of the ones from the bathroom. They’re part of a set.”

“I won’t, Grandma,” Courtney yelled back. She stripped off her pjs and stepped into the one-piece suit, pulling it up over her thighs. It fit, but just barely. Pride demanded that she not look in the mirror. The consolation was that she probably wouldn’t see anyone her age at the pool this early in the morning. She donned sweatpants and a T-shirt, slipped her feet into flip-flops and trudged down the stairs.

Her grandmother was waiting by the door and handed Courtney a towel, purple cap and goggles. “They’re old,” she said, referring to the goggles, “but they’ll be all right until we can buy you a new pair.”

“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Actually, Courtney was impressed. She hadn’t known that people as old as her grandmother went swimming.

More surprises awaited her. The Olympic-length pool was in the high school. The adult lap swim session started at six and lasted until seven-thirty every morning. The lobby was filled with older people who all seemed to know each other.

Courtney walked in with her grandmother and, from the greetings she received, one would assume Vera had been gone for months. Her grandmother painstakingly introduced Courtney to her swimming buddies. A dozen names flew by so fast she had no hope of keeping track, but she did try. As much as possible, she attempted to blend into the wall. The sun might be up and shining but no reasonable person should be, in Courtney’s opinion.

“So how do you like living in Seattle?” one of her grandmother’s friends asked.

Courtney thought the woman’s name was Leta. “Oh, it’s great.” She forced some enthusiasm into her voice. Well, it might be if she met someone younger than eighty. This whole knitting thing was a major disappointment, too. First, she’d had no idea the class would be so small. There were only two other women and both were way older. One was around her grandmother’s age and a real biddy. She looked like she’d been sucking lemons half her life. The other woman was probably close to her mother’s age—if her mother had been alive.

A sick sensation hit Courtney in the pit of her stomach as she thought about her mother. It shouldn’t still hurt like this, but it did. Her brother and sister seemed to deal with the loss so much better than Courtney. No one wanted to talk about Mom anymore, and Courtney felt as if she was supposed to forget she’d ever had a mother. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t.

Julianna, her sister, hadn’t gained thirty-five pounds the way Courtney had. In fact, her sister had lost weight. Jason thought weight was a nonissue. The one and only time Courtney had talked to her brother about her problem, he’d shrugged it off. His advice was to lose the weight if it bothered her so much. He said it like it was easy. If getting weight off was that simple, she would’ve done it long ago.

“We have rules here at the pool,” Leta said, moving closer to Courtney. “No one’s ever written them down, but it helps if you follow them.”

“Okay.”

“You should know the middle shower is mine. I’ve used it for eighteen years and if you get out of the pool first, I’d appreciate if you’d leave that shower for me.”

“No problem.” Courtney made an effort to remember this.

“Wet your hair before you get in the water,” another of her grandmother’s friends advised, joining Leta. “Drench it real good, otherwise the chlorine will ruin your hair.”

“You’ve got a cap, don’t you?” someone else asked. “I hate swimming and having my hands come up full of someone’s hair.”

Yuck . What a disgusting concept. “Grandma gave me a cap.” She hadn’t planned to use it, but Courtney could see that she was likely to get booted out if she didn’t.

“How fast a swimmer are you?” Leta asked.

“Ah …”

“She should use the middle lane,” Courtney’s grandmother suggested. “Most of us swim in the first lane,” she explained to Courtney. “The third lane is for the fast swimmers. Start in the middle lane and see how it goes.”

“Okay.” Courtney was waking up now, and everything was beginning to make sense. Sort of. Don’t use the middle shower, but swim in the middle lane and wear a cap, but get her hair completely wet first. So far, so good.

Courtney just hoped all this exercise wouldn’t make her hungry.

When the doors opened, the group flowed into the pool area. The men turned right and made their way to one end, while the women went left toward their locker room.

Courtney followed her grandmother, Leta and the others. Vera already had her bag inside her locker when Courtney caught up to her. She took her time climbing out of her sweatpants, unwilling to have these older women view her chubby arms and legs. Her fear was that one of them—or even her own grandmother—would comment on the fact that her swimsuit was too tight.

She needn’t have worried. The women were intent on getting into the water and no one gave her any attention, for which Courtney was grateful. Nevertheless, she waited until the locker room had cleared out before she stripped down to her swimsuit.

Taking the advice she’d been given, she walked over to the shower area, turned on the faucet in the end shower and stuck her head inside. She wrung out her soaking wet hair and stuffed it inside the purple cap, thankful she didn’t know a soul. Anyone from home who saw her now would be hysterical.

But this was no laughing matter to Courtney. When school started in six weeks, she wanted to walk into class looking good—and she didn’t care what she had to do to achieve that. If losing weight meant waking up before the birds, consorting with women five or six times her age and abiding by all the unwritten rules at the pool, then she’d do it.

Leaving the change room took courage and she made a dash from the doorway to the water, attempting to look as cool and nonchalant as possible. The shock of the pool’s temperature when Courtney stepped down from the ladder nearly made her gasp. It was cold . The sign might say 81 degrees, but she swore it was closer to 70.