The Sweetgum Knit Lit Society (29 page)

Hannah opened her mouth to protest. For a long moment, her lips were just one big O, and then, as if realizing how much better the devil you know could be than the devil that you don’t, she shut her mouth and followed Merry to the car.

“How did you wind up at that truck stop?” They had made it past the group of rowdies unnoticed and were headed back down the highway to Sweetgum. Even though Merry had resolved to hold her questions until the morning, she couldn’t keep from asking that one. “Where in the world were you going?”

Hannah was looking out the side window, so all Merry could see was the back of head. “Does it really matter?”

“It matters to me,” Merry snapped. And to her surprise, she realized she meant it. She cared about Hannah. “I was worried sick when you called. Broke every traffic law in the books racing to get to you.”

Merry’s tirade was met with silence. She felt tears sting her eyes. What was it about this girl that scared her so? And then she realized exactly what it was. Hannah’s life was every fear
she’d ever had for herself and for her children all rolled up into one terrifying bundle. And now that Jeff had announced he’d declared bankruptcy, her fears were suddenly much more real. More immediate. More in danger of actually coming to pass.

“Hannah, you owe me an explanation.” Merry said the words, but she didn’t think she’d actually get a response, so she was shocked when Hannah turned back to face the windshield and started to speak.

“I just had to get away.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Hannah snapped.

“Who did you have to get away from?”

More silence.

“Hannah? Was it your mom?” Merry kept her eyes on the road, hoping that would encourage the girl to talk. “Did she do something?”

“No. She wasn’t even there.”

“Then who?”

Hannah burst into sobs. Surprised, Merry jerked the steering wheel of the minivan, almost sending them into the nearest ditch.

“Watch out!” Hannah cried.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Merry straightened the wheel and took her foot off the gas pedal. “Everything’s okay.”

Hannah snorted.

“Tell me who tried to hurt you.”

“Gentry. Gentry Carmichael.”

“Who is Gentry Carmichael?” Merry had never heard the name in her life.

“My mom’s boyfriend. She took off yesterday. I haven’t seen her since. And then he came over tonight.”

Those words sent a wave of chills through Merry. “Did he try to touch you?”

Hannah’s head dropped, her chin almost touching her chest. “He did more than try,” she mumbled in abject misery.

Merry put her foot on the brake and eased the van to the shoulder of the highway. She shifted into park and turned toward Hannah, as much as she could anyway considering her bulk. With one hand, she reached across to touch her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Hannah.”

To Merry’s surprise, Hannah didn’t shrink away. Instead she leaned ever so slightly closer. Merry slipped her arm around the girl and drew her awkwardly across the space between the two front seats. Hannah’s first sob slipped softly from her lips, but in a matter of moments she was crying and shaking as if she’d narrowly escaped death. And maybe she had, Merry thought, using her free hand to wipe away the tears running down her own cheeks.

“Do I need to take you to the hospital, honey?” The words almost stuck in her throat, but she had to ask them.

“No. It’s not that bad—” She sobbed again. “He just grabbed my—” Fresh tears drowned out the rest of the sentence, but a wave of relief swamped Merry that it hadn’t been a worse violation. Later she would find out exactly what had
happened, but at least the poor child hadn’t been … She couldn’t even let her thoughts go there.

“I think we’d better get home,” she said, patting Hannah’s head before shifting back to her seat. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Hannah gave her a weak smile, probably one of the few times Merry had ever seen the girl do so. “Thank you,” she murmured. Merry patted her shoulder again.

“You’re welcome.”

Ten minutes later they were halfway home, and Hannah had fallen asleep with her head propped against the passenger side door. Merry glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Three thirty in the morning.

Strange how her own life suddenly looked much brighter in the darkness that had almost taken Hannah that night. Yes, she was imperfect as a mother. But she’d always be the kind of mom who would drive for an hour in the middle of the night to pick up someone else’s kid. And if that was the kind of parent her new baby was getting, that was fine.

More than fine, actually.

It was something a lot of kids would never have.

Better late than never
, Merry thought with a bittersweet smile. That was true for her—in so many more ways than one.

Ruthie piled her small amount of luggage on the porch so she could lock the door behind her. She gave the wood a pat, one last expression of affection. She’d arranged to rent her house for the next two years to a young schoolteacher who was a member of the church. The arrangement benefited both of them. The schoolteacher could save most of her money for a future down payment on a house of her own. And Ruthie would know that her home was well looked after in her absence. Assuming she came back at the end of the two years.

Rev. Carson had taken her departure with good grace, although he’d implored her to make a list of all the things she did and how she did them. A pity, really, that she couldn’t stay and work with him. He seemed like the kind of preacher who understood both the value and complicated nature of a church secretary’s job.

Ruthie locked the door and put the key under a flowerpot, as she’d promised her new tenant. “Good-bye, house.” It was silly, she supposed, to actually talk to her home, but after all these years a proper farewell seemed important.

“Why are you talking to your house?”

Ruthie jumped. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard her sister coming up the sidewalk.

“Just saying good-bye.”

“That’s more consideration than you were going to show me.” Esther’s face was pinched into lines of disapproval. “I didn’t think there was anything more for us to say.”

Ruthie frowned. “Why are you here?”

“I’m driving you to the airport.”

“You don’t have to. I called a cab.”

Esther pursed her lips. “Yes, I think I do. You can use my cell phone to cancel the cab.”

Ruthie would rather have been boiled in oil than accept Esther’s offer, but she also couldn’t bring herself to say no.

“How did you know I was leaving?”

“I happened to stop by the church this morning. Apparently it never occurred to Rev. Carson that you wouldn’t tell your own sister you were on your way to Africa for two years.”

“You don’t need to drive me to the airport.”

“No, I don’t. But I’m going to.”

“All right.” Ruthie knew better than to argue with Esther when she used that tone. Besides, now that she was leaving,
what could it hurt? She hoisted her duffel bag over one shoulder and grabbed her tote with her free hand.

“That’s all you’re taking?” Esther frowned in disapproval.

“We’re limited as to what we can bring.”

“I guess you won’t need much out there in the jungle.”

Ruthie bit back a laugh. “I’m hardly going to the jungle, Esther. I’ll be in a village, like I was before, but it’s not far from a small city. No electricity, but that’s why I’m bringing solar-powered flashlights.” Amazing how an ordinary ten-dollar household object, taken for granted in America, could transform life in the place she was going.

“Do they have running water?”

“Yes, Esther. And I’ve had all my shots. Remember, I’ve done this before.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Not really.” Ruthie’s eyes grew misty. “Most of the time, it seems like yesterday.”

“Yes, well, you’re not as young as you used to be.” And then deciding, apparently, not to pursue the argument, she waved Ruthie toward the car as if she were a recalcitrant child. “Come on. You don’t want to miss your plane.”

The hour-and-a-half drive to Nashville both sped by and dragged on. Esther’s Jaguar with its leather interior was comfortable, its low-slung engine eating up the miles with ease. But with only the two of them inside, Ruthie struggled to find topics of conversation. Other than family dinners or
other group gatherings, she still hadn’t seen Frank alone. Hadn’t wanted to, of course, but perhaps she should have tried to put some closure on their relationship. Closure especially on the strange and twisted last few months. Acquiring her visa and her assignment in Namibia with the church-based volunteer agency had taken far longer than she’d expected, in part due to her age.

“How long will you be gone?” Esther asked, breaking the silence between them.

“I signed on for two years. But I might stay longer.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this just to spite me,” Esther snapped, clearly not able to control her temper any longer. “I’m sorry if you think I used you, but it was for a good purpose, don’t you think? I assume you didn’t want Frank to die either? And you were both being so stubborn—”

“We were being individuals, Esther. Grownups with minds of our own and decisions that were ours to make.”

“He was being ridiculous. He had to have that surgery.”

“And you made sure he did, no matter what it cost.”

“We’ve already been over this.” Esther kept her eyes fixed on the highway.

Ruthie sighed. Why was she even trying to get her sister to see things from her point of view? If she needed any more confirmation that she was doing the right thing, then this conversation did the trick.

“Yes, we have been over this. And neither of us will ever be able to understand the other.” She kept her gaze glued to
the scenery out the passenger side window. “Still, you don’t need to go all the way to Africa to punish me.” Was that regret she heard in her sister’s voice? Ruthie fought the urge to put her head in her hands and weep.

“Believe it or not, Esther, my decision has nothing to do with you and very little to do with Frank.”

“You’re too old to be gallivanting off like this. What if you get sick?”

“They have hospitals in Africa too. Angelina Jolie had a baby there and lived to tell about it.”

“It’s hardly the same thing.”

“Well, I’m not likely to have any babies at my age.”

Esther pounded the steering wheel with the palm of one hand. “There’s no reasoning with you. Honestly. Well, if you want to throw your life away …”

“I already did.”

“Excuse me?”

“I already threw my life away. I’ve been throwing it away every day for the last thirty years.”

“Ruthie—”

“Does the truth shock you? It does me too. But your charade taught me something, Esther, that nothing else ever has.”

“It did?” She sounded as if she didn’t know whether to be frightened or pleased.

“I spent my life waiting for Frank to come for me.” She held up a hand to stop Esther from speaking. “I did. It’s true,
and I’m ashamed of it. But when he finally did act on his feelings for me, I discovered a very important truth.”

“Which was?”

“That unrequited love is like a drug. You can get addicted to it.” As she spoke the words, she felt a great weight lifting off her shoulders. The very thing she’d always thought had anchored her to Sweetgum had turned out to be a millstone instead.

“That sounds very romantic,” Esther said with derision. “I’d simply have called it hanging about, waiting to see if my sister’s marriage broke up.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right.”

Except when you’re wrong
, Ruthie thought, but she knew better than to say it out loud. She didn’t want to be dumped on the side of Interstate 65 and have to hitchhike her way to the Nashville airport.

“Well, in any event, if I’ve thrown my life away, I’m retrieving what’s left of it.” All those years Ruthie thought she’d been faithful to her family and to her church, indeed to God, serving and loving and trying to bury the longings of her heart. Yes, she thought she’d been faithful. As it turned out, she’d just been scared.

“Will you write?” Esther asked. They were nearing the southern outskirts of Nashville now. Only another twenty minutes or so and they’d be at the airport.

“Yes. And e-mail.”

“I don’t do the e-mail.” Esther sniffed.

“Then I’ll write to you and e-mail Alex.”

“I thought he wasn’t speaking to you.”

“Maybe he will when there’s an ocean between me and his father.” For the first time since they’d left Sweetgum, Ruthie felt tears threaten. “He’s the son I never had, Esther. I couldn’t stand it if I lost him.”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

Esther didn’t answer. Just glanced over at her, that infamous eyebrow arched high as a kite.

“Okay, okay. You won’t allow it. Enough said.”

“Do you need to make any stops before we get to the airport?”

“No. I’m good.”

“I’ll miss you, Ruthie.” Esther’s words came out of nowhere, as unexpected as they were precious.

Now tears choked Ruthie’s throat and stung her eyes in earnest. “I’ll miss you too, Esther.”