The Sweetgum Knit Lit Society

by Beth Pattillo

  “Keep your coat on for a minute,” she instructed him.

  She dropped her bag on the coffee table and moved to the fireplace to light the gas logs. “It’ll warm up pretty quickly.”

  “Ruthie.” His voice was low and serious. “Stop.”

  She paused, kneeling there on the hearth with her back to him. He came toward her, and she straightened so abruptly that she hit her head on the corner of the mantel.

  “Ow!” Tears filled her eyes, and she clasped her hand to her head. “Shoot.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He was next to her then, one hand on her shoulder and the other gently moving her fingers away to assess the damage. “No blood,” he said, his voice as soothing as his presence was unnerving. “Do you want some ice?”

  “No. I’ll be okay.” The tears receded and she stepped away from him. “Clumsy of me.” The fire had begun to warm the room, and she reached to unbutton her coat. “Do you want some tea? Or soup?” Sitting out in the cold couldn’t be good for his heart.

  “I don’t want tea or anything else. I just want to talk to you. Sit down. Please.”

  She did as he asked, perching on one end of the couch while he took the other end. With a start, she realized that she was still wearing her coat, but her hands shook too badly to take it off.

  “Frank—”

  “No, Ruthie. I’m going to do the talking now.”

  She nodded. How many more times would she have to do this? Escape was still weeks away. The thick registration packet had arrived yesterday, and she’d worked late into the night filling out all the necessary forms that she could. Others, like a health screening from her doctor, would require a little more time.

  “You said you couldn’t find your own happiness at Esther’s expense, and I admire that about you.” He inched closer on the sofa and reached for her hand. She let him take it and bit her lip against the sorrow rising in her chest. “But things are different now. You know that,” he said. “Esther’s the one who kicked me to the curb.” He squeezed her fingers. “I’m a free man, Ruthie. No encumbrances. No guilt. And now the holidays are past—Esther and I didn’t want to upset the grandchildren—but now that’s over and you and I can be together.”

  Once again, her sister had manipulated her so neatly that Ruthie had to admire her for it at some level. Hadn’t Frank figured that out by now, that Esther always got what she wanted in the end? But no. He’d never seen that side of his wife, or never allowed himself to see it. Either way, Frank had no idea how self-serving his wife’s request for a divorce really was.

  “Frank—” Her hand, wrapped in his, felt warm and safe, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  “No, Ruthie.” Now he laid a finger to her lips. Shame on her for the thrill that raced through her. She was too old, too principled, but mostly too scared. She didn’t want this to happen, but it was going to, no matter what she did. Esther had seen to that. “It’s our time. Finally. Or at least it will be once the divorce goes through. But I have a favor to ask.”

  She knew what it was, could see it coming as clear as day. “I’m going to have the heart surgery after all. Next week, in Nashville. I want you to be with me.”

  “What about Esther?” she asked past the sudden dryness in her throat.

  “I think she’s made her position in all of this pretty clear.”

  If only she could tell him the truth. But if she did, he would change his mind about the surgery. And right now, like her sister, she needed him to be alive more than she needed to be truthful.

  He put his other hand on top of hers, trapping her as securely as her sister had. “Please, Ruthie. For years I’ve felt dead inside anyway. Now I have a chance at a new life. With you by my side.” His voice choked with emotion. “We’ve denied our feelings for a long time. Don’t you think it’s time we were honest for a change?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” What else could she say? The lie almost stuck in her throat, but she’d learned long ago to hide her feelings from the world. Even Frank would never guess what was truly going on in her head and heart.

  “Good. Then you’ll come with me to Nashville for the surgery?”

  “We can’t be anything more than friends as long as you’re still married to Esther,” she warned him. On that count, at least, she was determined to prevail.

  His smile took root slowly and then blossomed. “All right, but just remember that I’m a very determined man. And soon I’ll be a free one.”

  She wanted to feel the happiness that was trying to bloom in her body just as the smile had bloomed on his face. But how could she when she knew that this new turn of events was just as false as the last three decades of their lives? Not only could appearances be deceiving; they could be devastating as well to the people who had to maintain them at all costs.

  Merry sat alone in the dining room, waiting for Jeff to come home. She’d dropped the kids off at her mother’s house an hour before with plans to pick them up again later in the evening after dinner. She hadn’t told her mother why she needed emergency baby-sitting, and for once her mother hadn’t asked. And so now she sat at her beautiful Ethan Allen teakwood dining table with the walnut inlay, admiring the handsome matching china cabinet and its treasure trove of contents. Waterford crystal. Wedgwood china. Twenty-four place settings of sterling silver. Linen tablecloths and napkins for every occasion. Yes, the china cabinet had everything a successful lawyer’s wife could possibly need to ensure that her guests dined in comfort.

  Why then did the room feel so empty?

  Without the usual clattering and banging the kids created, she could fully appreciate the silence, punctuated only by the sound of the furnace clicking on or off as the thermostat dictated.

  She’d spent the day wrestling the crib down from the attic and assembling it in the guest bedroom—not the easiest task for a woman who was as pregnant as she was. Through the kitchen doorway, she could hear the hum of the washing machine in the combination laundry/mud room that led to the garage. The occasional bang told her that the tennis balls she’d put in the water with her knitting project were doing their job. After another cycle or two, her felting would be complete, and she’d have a sturdy lunch bag worthy of any self-respecting Alpine goatherd. At least the project for Heidi had helped keep her hands, if not her mind, occupied over the last few days. Time had run out. She had no choice but to tell Jeff about the baby. She was scheduled for an ultrasound tomorrow. Jeff had been with her for that particular test with each of the children, and she didn’t want this baby to be any different. So she had to tell him tonight. And tomorrow she’d find out whether she was going to have a boy or a girl. Tonight she was going to find out if she still had a marriage.

  If she thought about it, though, she’d cry, so she stood up and walked back through the kitchen to check on the washing machine. Before she could get there, the louder hum of the garage door opening overrode the sound of the washing machine. Jeff was home.

  Merry froze. He was early, or at least he was early for Jeff. She double-checked her watch. It was barely after five. She thought she’d have more time to figure out what to say. Of course, she knew what she had to say. She just hadn’t figured out yet quite how to say it.

  The door to the garage opened and there he was, framed in the opening, as devastatingly handsome as ever. He took one look at her and frowned. “Merry? Are you okay?” He shut the door behind him and put a hand on her shoulder. “Honey?”

  She hadn’t meant to scare him. At least not by standing in the laundry room like a zombie.

  “Hi. You’re home early.”

  “What’s wrong? Is it one of the kids?” His eyes darkened with worry.

  “No. No. Everything’s fine.”

  He looked over her shoulder and then cocked his head as if listening. “Where are they?”

  “They’re at my mom’s. She invited them for dinner.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment lined his face. “I took off early so I could spe
nd some time with them this evening.”

  Normally she would have been over the moon with joy at his words, but tonight they were like a knife in her heart.

  “I’m sorry. If you had let me know—”

  And then the lines of disappointment in his face turned to sadness. “Sorry. I didn’t know I’d be throwing a major kink in the works.”

  This wasn’t going at all the way she’d planned. “Jeff—”

  “It’s okay, Merry. Sorry. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

  No, no, no. This conversation was not supposed to play out like this. Even if she hadn’t prepared down to the last detail, she did have a general idea of what should happen, and this definitely wasn’t it.

  “Jeff.” She caught the sleeve of his navy blazer as he moved past her. “Wait.”

  Heavens above, she’d never planned to tell him about the baby while standing in the middle of the laundry room, but apparently there was never going to be a better time.

  “What?” He wasn’t rude, but he wasn’t very cooperative either. His arm was stiff as a board beneath her hand.

  “Actually, I asked Mom to take the kids tonight. I wanted us to have some time together. I need to tell you something.”

  She had his full attention now. “That sounds pretty ominous.”

  “It’s not. I mean, I don’t think it is. I hope you won’t.”

  He looked more confused than ever, his face mirroring the exhaustion she was feeling these days.

  “What is it, Merry? If the kids aren’t here, I’m going to go take a nap before dinner.” He looked toward the kitchen.

  “I’m pregnant.” She felt like she might vomit. Bile stung her throat. “That’s what I needed to tell you. I’m pregnant.”

  She’d read in books where folks talked about time standing still, but she’d never actually experienced it before. Jeff’s mouth hung open, and she resisted the urge to reach out and push his chin up to close it.

  Relief and fear raced through her veins in a potent mixture with the regret and panic already residing there. “I didn’t mean to tell you like this. I was going to fix a nice dinner. We were going to eat by candlelight. And then I was going to tell you.”

  “How did this happen?” He looked as astonished as he had the first time she’d communicated this kind of information over thirteen years ago.

  Merry laughed. How could she not? “The usual way, Jeff. I would think you’d be up to speed on that part by now.”

  “But we—”

  “Nothing’s a hundred percent effective.”

  And then his shoulders sank. There it was, the response she’d been dreading, the reason she’d put this off as long as she possibly could. Now instead of handsome and strong, he looked defeated and about a decade older than when he’d walked through the door.

  “I thought you were just gaining some weight. Merry, we can’t—”

  “We don’t have any choice, Jeff. It’s too late. And we wouldn’t have done anything about it anyway.”

  He nodded, but he didn’t look at her. “You’re right. It’s just that …”

  “What?” she asked softly. She reminded herself that she’d had several months to get used to the idea. Jeff was just beginning that journey.

  “Merry—” He pressed his palm to his forehead and rubbed his hand across his brow and down the side of his face. “Oh God, Merry. I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  Now her pulse was racing, and she could feel her knees quaking beneath her. His new paralegal. What was her name? Mitzi? Missy? A new kind of panic swamped her. Sure, she worried about that quite a bit. Jeff was so handsome and charismatic. But deep down she’d never really thought it might happen, that he might—

  “Jeff?”

  She couldn’t believe her marriage was going to end in the laundry room. The bedroom she could understand. The dining room, or even the kitchen. But here? With piles of dirty clothes strewn around their feet and the smell of bleach and Mr. Clean permeating the air?

  “Just say it, Jeff.”

  He heaved a sigh. “Okay.” Then he looked at her, and she wished he hadn’t. She’d never seen that look of total defeat in his eyes before, not even when he lost some very important, vital cases.

  “You’re not saying it.”

  “I will. Just give me a minute.”

  “Jeff …”

  “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “What am I thinking?”

  “It’s not another woman. Nothing like that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He took a deep breath and then let it out in one long whoosh. “I came home early because I had to file for bankruptcy today.”

  Camille couldn’t believe she had to spend a month reading Heidi and knitting a lunch bag. She’d never had any interest in felting—the process where you knit a wool item oversize and then shrink it in the washing machine. The end product was quite literally felt—like the stuff her mom used to cut up to make Christmas tree ornaments. Well, not exactly like that but the same texture and toughness with the little bits of fuzz attached. Felted knitting looked rustic, exactly like something the fictional Heidi would use to tote around bread and cheese to sustain her through a long day of scrambling up and down mountains.

  Camille was not a fan of Heidi. The outdoors held no allure for her, and the one time she’d watched a movie version of the book she’d been disgusted with the whole plot. Heidi seemed to her to be a needy wimp who would attach herself to anyone who threw her the smallest crumb of affection. Camille couldn’t relate to that at all.

  But here she was, once again reading to her mother in hopes of keeping her suffering at bay for a few precious hours. Her mother had given up on reading aloud after Little Women. She didn’t have the stamina. So Camille read, watching for the moment when her mother fell asleep and she could set the book aside and pick up her knitting until it was time to leave for work and open the dress shop.

  She had promised to pick up Hannah after school and help her buy yarn for the felting project. Munden’s would have some cheap wool that would work, but Camille had her doubts about how well it would felt. No two yarns shrank in the same way or at the same rate. She’d help Hannah get the yarn, and then maybe Merry or Ruthie could take over for the felting part. If nothing else, Camille knew her limits. Well, sometimes she did.

  As her mother snored peacefully and the clock in the corner of the room ticked on, Camille kept her eyes on her knitting and her ears cocked in hopes that her cell phone would ring.

  Lunch was the worst time of the day for Hannah. Thirty-five minutes of torment, and she could only spend so much time standing in the cafeteria line or dawdling in the bathroom. The worst part was at the cash register. She was a check mark girl, had been since her mother dropped her off that first day at kindergarten.

  “Burrito or chicken patty?” Luellen, the ancient cafeteria lady, asked the question in her usual monotone.

  Hannah paused to consider which option would keep her stomach full longer. “Burrito, please.”

  Luella picked up one of the prefab burritos and plunked it on a plastic tray, which she pushed down the line to the next worn-looking cafeteria worker. Sometimes Hannah felt as old as the ladies looked. One by one, they slapped her green beans, fruit cocktail, and peanut butter cookie on the tray.

  She grabbed a carton of milk, accepted her tray from the last worker, and approached the cashier, Mrs. O’Brien. The cashier looked at her expectantly and then heaved a big sigh when Hannah didn’t flash any cash. Mrs. O’Brien lifted the clipboard from the counter beside her.

  “Name?”

  You’d think after all these years the old bat would acknowledge that she knew every kid in Sweetgum like the back of her hand, but the routine never varied. It was designed for maximum humiliation each and every day. Mrs. O’Brien didn’t approve of the free lunch kids.

  “Hannah Simmons.”

  Ogre O’Brien, as Hannah liked to call her, scanned the list
four or five times before heaving yet another enormous sigh and making a check mark by Hannah’s name.

  “Next?” She looked right past Hannah, as if she were as transparent as glass. Ogre O’Brien didn’t need to perform her elaborate ritual every single day. Hannah had gotten the message long ago.

  The second worst part of lunch was emerging from the cafeteria line. There she was faced with long rows of tables filled with her peers. Also known as her tormentors. Except for Kristen, but she wasn’t speaking to Hannah these days. Not since Hannah had refused to make out with Jimmy Clausen in the cemetery on a regular basis. Or on any basis at all.

  Today she was lucky. She spotted an empty table near the door at the far end of the room. She could wolf down her food and make a break for the bathroom.

  Hannah plopped her tray on the empty table and herself in the ancient folding chair. She’d brought her book too, carefully covered. She’d used a sack from Munden’s, turned inside out, to make a plain brown wrapper for Heidi. All she needed was for someone to spot her carrying around a kid’s book. She’d be more of an outcast than she already was, if that was even possible.

  Five minute later Hannah was lost in the book, mindlessly chomping on her burrito, when a lunch tray thumped down next to hers. She jumped, looked up, and felt like the burrito might reappear. Courtney McGavin stood next to her, the world’s fakest smile planted on her face. “Mind if we join you?”

  Crap. Double crap. She shrugged, playing it cool even while her heart climbed up in her throat. “Whatever.” She shut the book and put it in her lap. Instinct told her to pick up her tray and run for the door, but she couldn’t back down. Courtney had two other girls with her, Heather Brown and Lindsey Myers. Hannah studied them out of the corner of her eye. Heather was a barracuda, but Lindsey had always seemed okay. In fact, she looked uncomfortable as she sat down across from Hannah and shot Courtney a worried look.