The Sweetgum Knit Lit Society (8 page)

“Very nice,” Esther added without really looking at the piece. She was refolding her cashmere scarf in some tissue paper.

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Hannah,” Eugenie said in a warning tone.

“I mean thanks. I guess.”

“What’s bothering you, Hannah?” Eugenie asked, and Merry wished that she hadn’t. The Knit Lit Society was her peaceful time, the one night a month when she could simply relax, enjoy some good conversation, and not think about anything but books and knitting.

Hannah scowled. “Nothing. I finished the stupid project, okay?”

“You don’t seem very happy about it.” Eugenie studied the girl over the top of her reading glasses.

The air in the room rippled with tension. Merry laid her needles in her lap, ready for the explosion that seemed sure to follow. She knew this pattern of teenage angst as well as any knitting stitch.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Hannah slumped back in her chair and crossed her arms over her budding chest.

“Your tension’s too tight, honey,” Ruthie said. She reached for Hannah’s scarf and pulled it in front of her. “But that will come with practice. You just need to relax a little more when you’re knitting.”

“You never did tell us who you identified with in
Little Women
,” Merry heard herself say, even as she told herself not
to get involved. She didn’t have the capacity to add any more people to the lengthy list of those she cared for and prayed for. Especially not now.

“The book was totally lame. So is this stupid knitting.” Hannah hunched her shoulders like a vulture. Or a prisoner about to be beaten.

Eugenie shot Hannah a look that had wilted far stronger people. Merry was grateful it wasn’t directed at her. “Do I need to remind you of our agreement, Hannah?” Eugenie’s eyes bored into the girl’s. Beside her Merry could feel the tension vibrating off the teenager. Suddenly her irritation with Hannah turned to pity and then to compassion. As overwhelmed as Merry felt, she was an adult—with all the resources and privileges of a grownup at her disposal. Hannah was just a child and an unhappy one at that.

“What’s next month’s project?” Merry asked. “I’m going to Nashville soon and wanted to pick up my yarn.” She was an expert at drawing attention away from conflict. Heaven knows she employed the technique at home on a frequent basis. Bait and switch. Conversational sleight of hand. Her middle name should be Houdini.

Eugenie’s eyes brightened. “Excellent. I thought for
A Little Princess
we’d do another shawl. Now that Hannah’s mastered a plain garter stitch, we should do a simple triangle so she can learn to increase.” She paused, studying Merry with those piercing eyes, and Merry felt the first frisson of apprehension.

“I can pick up yarn for whoever needs it,” Merry offered, but she could see from Eugenie’s expression that she wasn’t going to escape quite that easily. The librarian had a scheme in mind.

“I don’t suppose you could take Hannah with you to Nashville?” Eugenie asked. “It would be very helpful for her to see one or two of the yarn stores there. Far more inspiring than the generic selection at Munden’s.”

Merry would rather eat ground glass, but she kept a smile on her face. “I can’t imagine Hannah’s mother would let her take off to Nashville with a complete stranger. But I’d be glad to bring her some yarn.”

Eugenie was not to be denied, however. “I’m sure I can get Tracy to agree to the trip. When did you say you were going?”

Actually, she hadn’t planned to go, not until she’d blurted out the words in hopes of avoiding conflict. “I’m not sure. I need to check the kids’ sports schedules and see when Jeff can pick them up.”

“I’m happy to take care of your flock if you need me,” Ruthie offered with a smile. She baby-sat for the kids when Merry and Jeff had a rare night out or an even rarer weekend away. “My schedule’s pretty flexible right now.” Since the church was without a minister, Ruthie was often at loose ends, Merry knew.

“That would be great,” Merry replied without meaning a word of it. Well, for heaven’s sake, why not? Why not trap her pregnant self in a van for ninety minutes each way to and
from Nashville with a teenage girl even more sullen and miserable than her own?

“I’ll speak with Hannah’s mother,” Eugenie said, effectively silencing any protest the girl might have made. “You can pick her up early on a Saturday and be there when the stores open.”

As neatly as that, Merry’s trip to Nashville was tied up in a package and garnished with a bow. What Jeff would say about this development she couldn’t even imagine. He would have to do the soccer run, make sure Courtney made it to cheerleading practice, and keep Sarah entertained. On the other hand, it had been awhile since he’d done any of those things. Maybe it was time he did.

“Okay. I’m sure Jeff can handle the kids, but thanks for the offer, Ruthie. I’ll have him call you if he needs backup.”

“Since that’s settled, let’s talk about the book some more,” Eugenie said. Merry could feel Hannah shooting her some dirty looks, but she forced herself not to acknowledge them. She knew Eugenie was only trying to help this girl, but Merry was too tired and too stressed not to resent the librarian’s well-meant interference. The Knit Lit Society was supposed to ease her stress, not contribute to it.

Just as Merry was always the last to arrive, Eugenie was the last to leave. She lingered in the room after the others had packed up their knitting and their novels, gathering up the stray bits of yarn and coffee cups that littered the table. Perhaps she should scold the rest of them for not cleaning up after themselves, but in truth Eugenie didn’t mind. The scraps and cups were a sign of the health of the group, tangible evidence of their bonds, tenuous as they might be at times.

Eugenie had not been overly burdened in her life with personal bonds. Most people would never guess she hadn’t been born or raised in Sweetgum, she seemed so much a part of the fabric of the town. She’d moved there from the nearby city of Columbia when she was twenty-five to become the head librarian of the Sweetgum Public Library. Forty years of overdue books, the demise of the Dewey decimal system, and
working six days a week. Forty years of forming the minds and tastes of the reading public.

Forty years of loneliness held back by rigid determination.

Eugenie heard footsteps in the hall outside the classroom. Napoleon, the church janitor, must be making his rounds prior to locking up. Eugenie appreciated his presence. She preferred not to be in the building alone. Generally she preferred not to be in a church at all, but Esther had arranged for the meeting space when they’d first started the society. Eugenie might have gainsaid a lot of people, but Esther Jackson wasn’t one of them.

“Evening, Napoleon,” Eugenie called out before she could see him. She dropped the knitting detritus in the trash can and turned toward the classroom door. Only the figure who appeared in the doorway wasn’t the custodian at all.

Panic and shock slammed into her. The man framed by the doorway bore no resemblance to the pale, wizened Napoleon. No, this man was tall, a little older than Eugenie, and his face was frighteningly familiar even after all these years.

“Finishing up?” the man asked in polite tones, which meant he hadn’t recognized her. Yet. But what on earth was he doing here in the Sweetgum Christian Church on a Friday night? Her blood thrummed in her ears as if her head might explode.

“Yes. Yes, we were just finishing up.” She couldn’t think of anything to say, could only parrot his words back to him.
Her eyes were glued to his face, just as her feet seemed to be frozen to the floor.

The man stepped forward and extended his hand. “I’m Paul Carson. I’m here interviewing to be the new minister.”

Eugenie’s knees threatened to give way. She gripped the back of the nearest folding chair for support. Sixty-five-year-old women should never be shocked like this.

“Are you all right?” He stepped forward, which only made Eugenie’s suddenly dry throat more of a desert.

“Hmm. Hmm. Yes.” She drew a deep breath, released the chair, and straightened up. “Sorry. You startled me. I was expecting Napoleon.”

“He left early. Something about his granddaughter’s science project being due tomorrow and he was needed to help. I wanted to look around the building. He said just to make sure I turned out all the lights and that the door locked behind me on the way out. I apologize if I frightened you.”

Eugenie forced herself to breathe slowly, in and out, and relax her knees. He hadn’t changed, not really, but evidently she’d changed so much that he failed to recognize her even when he was standing less than six feet away.

“You’re the new pastor?” She knew she sounded inane, like a feeble-minded old person, but for all her legendary self-discipline, she couldn’t make her tongue form the words easily.

“Possibly. My conversations seem to be going well with the search committee.” Eugenie vaguely remembered that
Esther’s husband was chair of the group charged with calling a new minister.

“I didn’t realize the church was so close to hiring someone.” She’d given up on religion years ago, right after he …

“You look familiar.” His hair was white now, but not unattractive. No, not unattractive in the least. Behind the wire-framed glasses, his familiar blue eyes were as clear as they’d ever been. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how standing next to him always made her feel small but not in a good way. He’d been larger than life, and she … well, she’d been a silly young woman who knew nothing about anything.

“Familiar?” she croaked. How could he not recognize her? True, she had the wrinkles, liver spots, and graying hair of anyone her age, but had she changed so much as to be completely unrecognizable?

“Well, if you didn’t know I was interviewing, then you’re definitely not a parishioner. I may need to suggest that the congregation change their name to Grapevine Christian Church.” He smiled. “I’m sorry. Speaking of names, I didn’t catch yours.”

Eugenie clamped her lips together because surely her mouth was opening and closing helplessly, like a fish out of water. “My name?”

His laugh hadn’t changed any more than his eyes had. It burned through Eugenie like an open flame. “I really have startled you, haven’t I?”

Eugenie had never panicked in her life, but at that moment, with her heart in her throat, anxiety gave wings to her feet.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” She swept up her knitting bag, wrestling the wooden legs together as she moved past him, desperate to hide the tears stinging her eyes. It was only because she hadn’t been prepared. Only because she hadn’t known she would see him. Hadn’t known to expect him. Who could possibly have expected to find him framed in the doorway of the Pairs and Spares Sunday school class?

“Well, good night then,” he called after her, bemusement in his voice.

Thank heavens he didn’t follow her. As she clambered down the stairs, she could hear him shutting the door to the classroom, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the hallway upstairs go dark. He must have flipped off the lights.

Running away like this would only make it worse. That thought rattled around in her head until her temples throbbed. He would find out who she was sooner or later if he became the pastor. In a town the size of Sweetgum, you couldn’t avoid anyone—friend or foe—for very long. But even that thought failed to slow her steps. She would face down her demons later.

After she’d had a chance to think. After she’d had a chance to rid herself of these unwanted emotions.

After she figured out why the only man she’d ever loved had to come back into her life when it was far, far too late.

Hannah kicked at the rocks along the side of the road, not an easy feat given the darkness of the October night. She wouldn’t have accepted a ride home from Courtney McGavin’s mom even if the woman had thought to offer. Not in her stupid minivan. Not to get a lecture about whatever moms like that lectured about. It was easier if your mom just hit you instead of giving off that disappointment and disapproval vibe.

Heroines. What a joke. These people had no idea what real life was like, tucked up in their Sunday school room in their nice little church. And then on top of everything Courtney’s mom had criticized her knitting. Well, not criticized exactly. Hannah had to be fair about that. But Courtney’s mom had made her feel like she’d done it all wrong.