Note: Written for coralysendria in the Retro TV Fanwork Exchange 2021.
Yarn Over, Pull Through
By Estirose
As far as extra credit went, Scott supposed it could be worse. Not that he thought he’d be in class for the end of the semester, but just in case he did it would be good to have a good grade on his transcript.
Most of the students were clustering at one booth – table, whatever – or another, so he just walked up to one that nobody seemed to be at. The woman at the booth smiled up at him. “Interested in crochet?”
“I don’t know anything about it,” he said truthfully. It was some kind of old lady craft, wasn’t it?
“Not a lot of your peers seem to be interested,” she told him wistfully. She herself seemed to be elderly, but hardly clinging onto life. “Mary Stewart. No, not related to royalty.” She put down the object she was working on to hold out her hand, expecting a handshake.
“Scott Hayden.” It seemed harmless enough, so he shook her hand briefly.
“Hayden, hmm? I knew of a Scott Hayden, married to a Jenny – your family’s not from Wisconsin, though, I bet.”
“Might have been.” The mention of his mother made his heart ache and wasn’t something that he was expecting to find out in the middle of nowhere, California.
“Pleased to meet you, Scott.” her eyes twinkled a bit. “Ah, a name I’d never thought to hear again. Anyway, let me show you a bit of how crochet works. Today I’m working on a blanket, and I just got started. See this? This is a chain stitch, started with a slip knot. Do you know how to make a slip knot?”
“Yeah.” Kent had taught him. Years ago.
“Very useful in crochet as well as the Boy Scouts!” She picked up a rod with a hook on the end. “So, this is a 5 millimeter crochet hook, the right size for this project. This is my current loop, so I’m going to put my hook through it. Then I’m going to pick up the yarn with my left hand – see where I looped it around my little finger and then my index finger. Now, I’m going to move my hook so that the yarn is over the hook – that’s a yarn over – and pull through. Like this.”
He watched as she created another loop. “Yarn over, pull through. The trick is keeping the tension on your yarn so your stitches are not too tight or too lose. Want to give it a try?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
She smiled and handed him a hook and a ball of yarn. He clumsily made a slip knot, put the hook through, and then tried to put the yarn around his fingers as she’d shown him.
“Okay,” she said, “Now, that yarn in your left hand – hook it over your little finger and then your pointer finger. Loop it if you need to.”
He at least tried, but it was like his fingers really didn’t want to play cat’s cradle, thanks, and the yarn just fell off.
“May I?” she asked, reaching for the yarn. He nodded, and she took the yarn, wrapping it around his fingers.
“Now use the hook to grab the yarn… like that, good,” she said as he managed to do just that. “Twist the hook around so you’ve got it facing away from the rest of the yarn. Great! Pull it through now.”
He somehow managed to make another loop. Even he couldn’t help but stare, fascinated.
“You’ve got the basics of the very first stitch! Congratulations!” She smiled up at him. “You’re a faster learner than most… it took me a few tries to even get that far, and that was with my mother helping me.”
“Uh, thanks,” he said, shifting awkwardly.
“I know you’re thinking, ‘guys don’t do crochet’! And admittedly, there aren’t as many men in the hobby, but rest assured, I know guys who crochet. Sometimes you need the world to disappear for a few minutes, and there’s no better way to do that then spend time with a hook and some yarn.”
“Really?” Scott asked. It seemed unlikely, but what was he to know? Kent didn’t seem the type to crochet, nor had any other guys in his life.
“Oh, yes! Anyway, I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time. I bet you’re one of the ones trying to get some extra credit for school!”
“Yeah!” He fished out the card.
She stamped it, and then took out a card from her purse. “I’d love to talk to you more about crochet. I’ll even feed you lunch – you look like you could use a home-cooked meal. Here’s my phone number, give me a call.”
She handed it to him, and he looked at it. Eileen’s friends had calling cards like the one that Mary gave him. It seemed so old-fashioned. She seemed harmless, though, and lunch in return to listen to her talk about crochet would stretch their small amount of cash faster.
“Now, go and get the rest of your extra credit!” Mary laughed, folding her hands. “Think about my offer.”
“I’ll think about it,” he promised.
“So, how was your day?” Scott’s father asked. Over the last year, he’d been getting better at pretending to be human, Scott knew, though there were some things that escaped him.
“Well, I went to the craft fair for the extra credit stuff,” he said. He was always hopeful that he’d be able to finish out the year in one school, but he knew it was also a faint hope. “I learned about quilting and crocheting.”
He realized at that moment that his father might not know what either of those was. He opened his mouth to explain, but his father spoke. “What is crochet?”
“Um.” He still wasn’t clear on what it was other than a craft. “You take a piece of yarn and something called a crochet hook, and you make a lot of loops? Um, the lady who was trying to show me how invited me over for lunch, I can ask if she wants to have both of us over.”
It could be that his father wouldn’t be interested. But knowing him, he would be. That’s how his father was; interested in the wide variety of things on Earth. His father probably knew more about Earth than he knew about his father’s home. Which was pretty much a big fat nothing.
He also knew that he also didn’t really know Mary or how she knew of his mom. And… well, he never really knew how to think of the human man who had given him some of his genes. Up until he knew about his father, he’d always really kind of assumed that his mom’s husband had been his father. Which in a way he was, but he’d been dead way before Scott had been conceived, much less born.
His father’s face brightened at that. “Tell me more about this crochet.”
“Maybe I should have her tell you instead.” He grabbed the card out of his pocket. They at least had a phone this time, so he didn’t have to go find a pay phone to call her. Then he remembered that she might be packing up her stuff and wouldn’t be home yet. Maybe he’d call her later. “Um, later.”
His dad still looked interested. But then again, even though he knew the basics of passing as human, he was still endlessly fascinated with humanity – both good and bad – and, well, having him learn about crochet was pretty harmless.
After a while of him working on homework and his dad reading a book – he’d gotten fascinated with reading everything he could lately – he picked up the phone and dialed Mary’s number.
“Hello?” Mary asked. She sounded polite, but tired.
“Hey, it’s Scott Hayden. You know, from the craft fair?”
“Oh, Scott! Hold on, I just got home. Let me put my things down, I’ll be right back.” There was noise in the background, and then she was back on the phone. “How can I help you?”
“I was telling dad about the crochet thing, and he wants to learn about it.”
“Wonderful! I’m always glad to teach some crochet.” Her voice was warm. “Tomorrow, maybe? At 2? I have church in the morning but I can make a late lunch.”
“Um. Yeah, we can do that.” He didn’t think that his dad had anything and it had been a while since he’d had a home-cooked meal.
“Good! Here’s directions to my house from the center of town, it’s sometimes easy to miss,” she said, and he quickly scribbled it down. “I’ll see you at 2.”
Two was late for a lunch, but he couldn’t complain. Not with her feeding them.
“2pm tomorrow,” he said to his dad, who was cocking his head at him. “We’re invited to lunch.”
His father smiled.
Thankfully, Mary lived near the center of town and it was easy for the two of them to find the small bungalow that was her home. They were even almost on time.
“Scott! Good to see you again. This your father?” she asked. She looked at his dad thoughtfully.
“Yeah. Dad, this is Mrs. Stewart.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Stewart,” his father said, shaking her offered hand. “Paul Forrester.”
“Mary is fine thanks! I’m not that formal. Come in!”
She led them into her dining room, where three plates were set. “I made some tuna casserole for the three of us.”
Scott was faintly surprised; he assumed she’d want to teach them crochet first and lunch came after, but apparently food came first for her. And it was good tuna casserole, he had to admit, and good company. Mary chatted about how she was a secretary somewhere and she’d retired about thirteen years ago and then moved back to California to be near family.
Once they were done, she led them into her living room. There were some balls of yarn and some crochet hooks sitting there.
“I hear you want to learn about crochet,” Mary said conversationally to his dad.
“I do!” He gave her the same smile he gave whenever he was happy to be learning about something.
“An eager student!” Mary laughed at that. “So, what do you know about it?”
His father gave her a shrug. “It’s called crochet.”
She laughed again. “You’ve never heard of it before?”
His father shook his head. “No. I’d like to learn about it, though. What is it?”
“Glad you asked! It’s a way of making fabric items – everything from washcloths to hats, bags and blankets. Most people use yarn, which is what I use. You start with a series of loops and move on from there – want to see?”
“Yes,” his father said simply, and Mary gave a quick demonstration of the same thing she’d shown Scott at the show.
“So, want to give it a try?” Mary asked.
“Sure!” He eagerly watched as she picked up a ball of yarn and a hook.
“Have you ever made a slip knot?” she asked, and Scott partially tuned them out because he already knew how to make a slip knot and sort of how to make those first stitches. Not surprisingly, his dad didn’t, so Mary cheerfully gave instructions and soon his dad was happily making what Mary had called a chain stitch.
“Okay, Scott, your turn,” she said. “You ready?”
“Yeah, sure.” He made a slip knot easily, and found that his fingers remembered how to do the chain stitch without much prompting. He wondered if he was just really good at that thing, or it was some subtle part of his heritage kicking in.
“Very good! Want to learn a single stitch?”
“Um, okay,” he said. “Is it hard?”
“Practice makes perfect! But really, the single stitch is the second stitch beginning crocheters use. Let me show you.” She picked up his crochet hook and looped thread around her fingers. “So, you start with your hook in your last loop and then while that loop is on your hook, you insert the hook end through the next loop, like this. Then yarn over, pull that through so that you’ve got your original loop and the new loop. Then yarn over again like this, and pull through both the loops. Our friends in Europe and elsewhere call this a double stitch, but we here call it a single stitch.”
His father was watching with fascination.
“Again, hook in the next loop, yarn over, pull through that one loop, yarn over, pull over both loops. Want to give it a try?”
“Yeah.” He followed her instructions. “You’re very patient.”
“I used to work for a very intense man in Washington.” She studied him. “An intelligence agency. He was professional, but very demanding. We weren’t friends, but we respected each other.” She sighed. “I was competent, and up until a project that just drove him insane, he was competent. Then he became a madman and it was time to retire, I thought.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t miss that job.”
“Um. I’m glad you retired, I guess,” Scott said awkwardly, but alarm bells were ringing in his head. She worked – had worked – for an intelligence agency. She might know Fox. She might have even called him. He’d have to get himself and his father out of there as soon as was politely possible.
“I do sometimes miss the community. Sometimes! I keep up with what’s going on and all the innovations. Nowadays you can just type someone’s name into a database and if anyone’s looking for them, it’ll pop up because most criminals are dumb about changing their names. And I’ve even heard there’s a national database being put together for fingerprints. I think it’s called AFIS.” She shook her head. “I was a secretary, not Amanda King or Emily Polifax, you were wondering. Anyway, you came here to learn crochet, not my not so exciting past.” She gave them both a wan smile.
Scott could see that his father had picked up enough of the clues to look a bit alarmed. “How about showing Dad the single stitch?” he asked. “I kinda need the bathroom.”
“Down the hall, to your left,” Mary said, making an absentminded motion in that direction.
“Thanks!” He hurried in that direction. He didn’t need a bathroom, but he did need to see how to get out of there in case she had just lured them there. Or him there. Finding the back door was critical.
By the time he came back, after he’d found both the bathroom and a back door, his father was happily making single stitches and their hostess was happily demonstrating what she said was “the American double stitch” which seemed very complex but she was insisting it was also a beginner stitch.
“Ah, you’re back!” Mary seemed cheerful. “Can I borrow you in the kitchen? I want to make sure I send you both home with some leftovers.”
She didn’t even wait for a reply before he was dragged into a small but well-stocked kitchen. “Look,” she said in a low tone. “If you are who I think you are, then I think you know who my boss was, and I want to assure you that I have nothing to do with him now.”
“You were Fox’s secretary.” It came out in a monotone.
“Yes, and that’s how I know about your mom.” She started shoveling the leftover tuna casserole into tupperware. “With… what happened… I was disgusted by the man he’d become. I wanted to help your mother so badly, but I couldn’t. I knew she was pregnant, I didn’t know more than that, but you do look like her. I certainly wasn’t expecting you to pop up on my doorstep… or at my craft fair booth.” She put a lid on the tupperware and handed it to him. “Is that your… real father?”
“Yeah.” He stared at the food.
“Well, I can check that off ‘things I never expected to experience in my life’, then.” There was a full, genuine smile on her face. “I love seeing people’s faces light up when they discover crochet, and, well, an extraterrestrial… never though that would happen.” Her smile turned into a more serious frown. “I want you to memorize my phone number and then lose my card. I still have contacts and I may be able to help you where I couldn’t help before. I wasn’t kidding about changing your names. It’s not perfect, but it might help you not looking over your shoulders too much.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Maybe this would give them a chance at normal life. He dared not hope, but maybe he could hope.
She looked at him up and down. “You’re too thin, as well. Pop by my house every week while you’re here, I’ll make you some food. Least I can do. I can make some food extra for your father too. Don’t bother with protesting, I’m going to do it anyway.”
Not wanting to argue, Scott just nodded.
“Let’s get out there and see how your dad’s doing at the double stitch, then,” she said, as if they’d been talking about nothing else.
He followed her back into the living room. His dad was obediently still working at the crochet, staring at his work as if utterly fascinated.
“Oh! You learn fast. Both of you. Scott, I’ll teach you the double stitch next time you come. Paul, you’re welcome too. In the meantime… please take the hooks and the yarn with you and practice. I can always buy new ones.”
His father smiled. Scott could foresee that there would be a lot of crocheting going on at their place in the near future, but he didn’t care.
Maybe they’d have to leave this town soon, but also maybe they wouldn’t have to leave the next one, if Mary’s advice was good. He could find a girlfriend – having to leave Kelly behind still hurt – live a normal life, graduate high school. It felt good.
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