The Sweetgum Knit Lit Society

by Beth Pattillo

  Somehow, though, victory didn’t feel as satisfying as it used to.

  “Have you heard our news?” Eugenie asked, nodding at Hannah. Esther shook her head, along with Camille. Merry simply smiled. “Hannah has agreed to come and live with me,” Eugenie continued.

  Esther shut her mouth to keep her jaw from dropping open. “Really?” she finally managed to say. “How lovely.” But what she really wanted to say to Eugenie was, Are you crazy? She’ll ruin your life. But Eugenie looked pleased as punch, and Hannah was smiling shyly and actually tucking that mop of hair behind her ears, out of her eyes.

  “Wonderful,” Camille said with the enthusiasm Esther couldn’t feel. “I’m glad that worked out.”

  Merry glanced at her watch. “Where’s Ruthie? She’s never this late.”

  The moment of truth had arrived. Esther cleared her throat. Opened her mouth to say something and found herself at a loss.

  “Esther?” Eugenie looked at her with curiosity, which quickly grew to alarm. “Has something happened to Ruthie?”

  “Ruthie’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, ‘Ruthie’s gone’?” Eugenie said, a horrified look on her face.

  “Not gone as in dead,” Esther reassured her. “Gone as in out of town. I drove her to the airport.”

  “Where did she go?” Camille asked, her eyes full of curiosity. “When will she be back?”

  Esther’s smile hurt. For that matter, her cheeks hurt, her scalp hurt, and her neck definitely hurt. Facades were heavy armor in the end. They might protect you, but they took a great deal of strength to lug around.

  “She’s gone to Africa. Namibia, to be exact. She’s going to teach in a village school and work on a project to distribute mosquito netting and solar flashlights.” Esther only knew that because she’d gone online to read about the program in which Ruthie was participating. Didn’t that show love for her sister? Esther detested computers. “As for when she’ll be back, well, I think in two years. If she doesn’t decide to stay longer.”

  “Two years!” Merry looked appalled. Almost as appalled as Frank had when Esther told him about Ruthie’s departure. He’d been devastated that Ruthie hadn’t said good-bye. Esther thought that was for the best. A clean break all around.

  A tiny part of her did wish that the clean break hadn’t been of her husband’s heart. Or perhaps what she really wished was that her husband’s heart had never been in the position to be broken in the first place.

  “She didn’t even say good-bye. Can we write to her?”

  Camille asked. “Or e-mail?”

  “Both. I have the information right here.” Esther had asked Frank’s secretary to type it up and make copies. She placed the pile of papers on the table. “We’ll hear from her all the time. Two years will pass very quickly.”

  What was that strange gnawing in her stomach? She’d eaten a good breakfast and her usual salad for lunch. For supper she had cooked an omelet (three eggs and cheese for her, egg whites and vegetables for Frank). There was no reason for the discomfort in her midsection.

  “I can’t believe it.” Merry’s eyes welled with tears. “She won’t see my baby until he’s walking and talking.”

  “I’m sure she regrets that,” Esther said, feeling as if she should offer the necessary comfort to the rest of the group. Or perhaps she was merely comforting herself since she couldn’t share the truth of the matter with anyone else. That was the biggest price she had paid, she realized with a start, for the life she had led. She was a social leader, the envy of many women in Sweetgum. But she was also absolutely, totally alone. Especially now that Ruthie was gone.

  Esther refused to cry in front of the other women. “Should we discuss the book?” she prompted with false cheer. Not that she’d read it. Not that she’d completed the necessary project. She simply had to change the subject before she fell apart right there in the Pairs and Spares Sunday school classroom.

  “So what did you all think of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz?” Eugenie asked, as was her custom. There’d never been a shortage of discussion, Esther thought, as the others dived into their opinions and insights.

  “I understand why Dorothy needed all those other characters to travel with her. She never would have made it to the Emerald City alone, much less killed the wicked witch,” Hannah said, which even Esther had to admit was a mature insight.

  “Whom do you think changed more, though? Dorothy or her friends?” Eugenie asked.

  Esther looked around the table at the other women as they pondered their answers. Things had certainly changed in the last five months since Eugenie first brought Hannah to a meeting of the Sweetgum Knit Lit Society. Had the teenager’s introduction into the group been the catalyst for all the changes? Or was Hannah’s presence merely a coincidence?

  Perhaps a little of both, Esther thought.

  Camille dropped her knitting into her lap. “I know it’s not in the book, but I always cry when I see the part in the movie where Dorothy tells the Scarecrow that she’ll miss him most of all,” she said, and Esther could tell she was thinking of her mother. Esther felt a lump rise in her throat. She’d been close to so few people in her life. Even as she’d resented Ruthie, she’d depended upon her. Though their relationship had never been straightforward, it had been vitally important. Esther understood now. Ruthie was her Scarecrow. Or maybe Ruthie was Dorothy, and she was Ruthie’s Scarecrow. Either way, the pain of separation was just as intense.

  Esther wondered if Ruthie felt the same, over there in Africa by now, embarking on a new life so far away from all she’d known. But really she was returning to something she’d known and loved long ago. Which was Kansas and which was Oz for Ruthie? There was no way to know. At least not until she saw Ruthie again and could ask her. Until then she’d just have to wonder.

  Camille’s mother managed to stay awake until Camille returned from the meeting of the Knit Lit Society. She knew her mother would want to hear all about the book discussion and the projects the group had made.

  “Hi, Mom.” She leaned over and brushed a kiss across her mother’s cheek. The room was lit only by a small lamp, the television playing softly in the background. “You shouldn’t have waited up,” she scolded gently.

  Her mother smiled, a faint, soft expression that combined pain and peace into a vague curve. “I know. But I wanted to hear about the meeting.”

  Camille settled into the chair beside the bed and set her purse on the floor. “Well, we had a good discussion, like we usually do. And you’ll never believe what Esther told us about Ruthie.” At that moment, her cell phone began to ring in the depths of her bag. “She’s gone to Africa to do mission work.

  Can you believe that?”

  “Aren’t you going to answer your phone?” her mother asked, nodding toward Camille’s purse.

  Camille looked down at her feet. She could see the glimmer of pink nestled between her wallet and the notebook she kept that listed her mother’s medication along with the dosages. And then her eyes rose to meet her mother’s.

  “No,” she said, with the same combination of pain and peace in her voice that she so often saw on her mother’s face.

  “No, Mom. I don’t think I am going to answer it.”

  These days instead of lunching alone at Tallulah’s Café on Tuesdays, Eugenie met Paul. Since no one knew of their previous relationship, Tallulah was sure that her matchmaking was responsible for the happiness of the couple in question. Paul and Eugenie said nothing to disabuse her of the notion either. Their past was their business, and neither of them saw a reason to share it with anyone but each other.

  As they left the diner, Paul walked with Eugenie back to the library. They hadn’t made it halfway around the square though, when he stopped her and pulled her into his arms, right there in broad daylight.

  “Paul Carson? What on earth are you doing?” She could feel the blush firing up her cheeks. “Let me go right now.” That’s what she said, but what she thought was, At last. Pau
l’s arms tightened around her, and she buried her face against his shoulder. She would never grow weary of this, even if her face was on fire.

  “I want to ask you something,” he said. Eugenie’s heart thudded in her chest.

  “Ask me something?” she echoed like some silly fool without a lick of sense.

  “Eugenie? Look at me, sweetheart.”

  She hadn’t been called that in so many years, and the endearment had the opposite effect from what he’d intended. She could feel more color flooding her cheeks. She kept her head pressed against him and tried to ignore the wonderful way he smelled—the slightest hint of aftershave with a little bit of mint. As if on his way out of the café, he’d eaten one of the peppermints Tallulah kept in a bowl by the door. Come to think of it, he probably had.

  “Come on. You can’t hide forever.” He pulled away, and she had to let him go. She wasn’t going to start being a clinging vine at this late date. “There, that’s better.”

  His eyes were full of the love she never thought she’d find again. “Eugenie, I don’t see any sense in going on this way. I think it’s high time we made our relationship permanent.” He paused. “Will you marry me?”

  “Paul, this isn’t the time or place—”

  “I think it’s the perfect time and place.”

  “We’re standing in the middle of the town square.”

  “You haven’t answered my question,” he said. His hands cupped her upper arms. She finally found the courage to look him in the eye.

  “Paul …”

  “Oh no.” A clouded expression covered his face. “Don’t start off whatever you’re going to say like that. Not with ‘Paul …’ ” He mimicked her hesitant elongation of his name.

  “We’re far too old—”

  “Speak for yourself, Eugenie Pierce. I’m not as old as all that, and neither are you.”

  “I don’t know if I can change.”

  “I never said I wanted you to.”

  “I’ve never lived with anyone else.” Except for Hannah, she added silently. And that had only been a week, hardly long enough to count. Besides, Paul didn’t even know about that yet.

  “There’s a first time for everything,” he said.

  “Paul, be serious.” If her cheeks had been red before, they were the color of ripe tomatoes now. “I’ve never …” She couldn’t finish. Thankfully he saved her from having to do so.

  “Eugenie, whatever you think the obstacles are between us, I promise we will figure out a way to overcome them. Miracles don’t come along every day, you know.” He stopped and grinned. “And I say that as a professional miracle-pointer-outer.”

  “What if it doesn’t work out?” There. She had said it, voiced her deepest fear.

  His hands fell away from her arms. He frowned. “Well, as much as I’d like to sustain the romantic nature of this proposal, you’ve raised a valid question. So let’s talk about it. What if it doesn’t work out, as you say?”

  “I’ve spent a lot of years building the life I have now—,” she began.

  “Then don’t change it.”

  What? Eugenie’s stomach dropped to her shoe tops. “I thought you wanted—”

  “Of course I want us to be together. I think I’ve made myself pretty clear on that count. But no one’s offering any guarantees here, Eugenie. Just because we’re old doesn’t mean that our lives still aren’t a minefield of risks. Even if you turn me down, that fact won’t change. If you believe you can make your world a hundred percent safe, then you’re sadly mistaken.”

  She had believed that. She’d clung to that idea fiercely until the day he’d walked into the Pairs and Spares Sunday school classroom and turned her life upside down.

  “It’s time to take a risk, Eugenie.” He drew her back into his arms again. “The good news is that you don’t have to take it alone.”

  Yes, it was good news, Eugenie thought. Very good news indeed. The kind she hadn’t heard much of since she’d walked out of church all those years ago.

  “I’ll make a terrible minister’s wife,” she said.

  “The only thing I expect you to be is the town librarian,” Paul answered.

  “What if I ruin your ministry?”

  “I’ll find another church. Or retire.”

  “What if—” But before she could continue her protests, he silenced her with a kiss.

  Eugenie had always frowned on public displays of affection, especially in the town square. But on that cold February day, right in front of the lingering Valentine’s display in the big plate glass window of the Rexall drugstore, she indulged in one with the new pastor of the Sweetgum Christian Church.

  Contrary to what she’d always believed, the sky didn’t fall, but the ground beneath her feet did shake.

  Eugenie decided she’d wait until later to tell him he was also about to acquire a teenage foster daughter as well as a new wife.

  What with one thing and another, the Knit Lit Society didn’t get around to throwing Merry a baby shower until well after the birth of Hunter Joshua McGavin. The Pairs and Spares Sunday school classroom had never looked so festive, Eugenie thought as she scored the sheet cake with a knife, careful that each serving would be topped with a blue icing baby bootie. No one ever wanted cake duty, but Eugenie didn’t mind. It gave her a chance to observe the difference that nine months had made in the lives of the Sweetgum Knit Lit Society.

  Merry sat behind a pile of presents, opening one while she laughed at something Camille had said to her. Camille had seemed to lose her sparkle for a while, but she was doing better. Her mother wouldn’t be around much longer, Eugenie thought. It was a good thing Camille had the Knit Lit Society. When the time came … well, Eugenie had no doubt who would be there to support the girl.

  Esther was recording the gifts on monogrammed stationery with a fountain pen. Eugenie could see new lines of strain around her mouth, but at least Esther hadn’t said any more about that nonsense of divorcing Frank. He was doing well—even starting to jog around Sweetgum every morning. No, the lines must be for another reason besides Esther’s marriage. Her concern for Ruthie, no doubt. Even though they all heard from her regularly, they worried. Namibia was a long way away.

  Hannah appeared next to Eugenie and reached for two plates of cake. Eugenie opened her mouth to scold the girl and then realized she’d misread Hannah’s intent. She wasn’t helping herself. Instead she turned and carried the plates to Merry and Camille, setting them down beside each of them. Eugenie bit her lip. Taking in an unhappy adolescent had put some strain on her budding relationship with Paul, but with patience and love they would all make it through.

  Eugenie laid aside the knife and smiled as Merry almost squealed with delight over the beautiful little sweater and cap Hannah had knit for the baby. In the blink of an eye, Merry had her arms around the girl and was hugging the life out of her. Camille applauded, and even Esther looked pleased.

  They’d all knitted gifts for Hunter Joshua. Eugenie glanced over at where he slept sweetly in his carrier. Even in slumber, he was a busy boy. His little fists opened and closed as if trying to grasp something just out of his reach. His chin and mouth worked up and down like a fish on the bank, desperate for air. Yes, Merry was going to have her hands full with that one.

  “Eugenie. Come over here. Merry’s about to open your present,” Camille called. Eugenie wiped the remains of frosting from her fingers on a napkin and crossed the room.

  “All right, all right. Here I am.”

  Merry carefully slid the beautiful wrapping paper open at the seams, slitting the cellophane tape with her thumbnail. Eugenie’s breath caught in her throat. What if Merry didn’t like her gift? Or worse, what if she didn’t understand its significance?

  The wrapping paper discarded, Merry pried the lid off the box and pulled back the tissue paper inside.

  “Oh, Eugenie.” Was that dismay or wonder in her voice?

  Eugenie realized she was holding her breath.

 
“Is that …?” Camille’s voice trailed off.

  Esther stood up and moved closer for a better look. “It’s exquisite,” she said, reaching over to finger the delicate garment.

  Even Hannah looked impressed. “You must have done that on needles the size of toothpicks,” she said. “That’d take forever.”

  “I did use size 2s,” Eugenie said. “But they’re a little bigger than toothpicks.”

  And then Merry was up and out of her chair and in front of Eugenie. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you seems so inadequate.”

  Eugenie knew that Merry was speaking of more than the snowy white christening gown she’d labored over so lovingly and so long. “It should fit,” she said, uncomfortable with overt displays of emotion. “I made it a little big. Just in case.” Merry didn’t answer, just threw her arms around Eugenie. For a long moment Eugenie stood, rigid. And then her arms found their way around Merry, and she hugged her back. “It was my pleasure,” she said, meaning every word. “Every stitch of it.”

  Hunter Joshua let out a high-pitched wail, which galvanized the women into action. Merry reached for the diaper bag for changing supplies, Hannah bent over him and made funny faces, and Esther cooed and clucked to him as if he were one of her own.

  “He’s just hungry,” Merry said. She produced a bottle from the diaper bag. She turned to Eugenie. “Would you like to feed him?”

  Eugenie felt the color drain from her cheeks. She’d never—But a pang of longing seized her. Suddenly she wanted to hold Hunter Joshua and give him his bottle more than anything.

  And so a few minutes later, she found herself settled into the rocking chair that had been pilfered from the church nursery for the occasion. The baby lay warm and heavy in her lap, his head tucked into the crook of her arm. With her free hand, she held the bottle, teasing his lips until he took it and began to suck noisily. Eugenie laughed. She was going to have to brush up on her knowledge of the boyhood classics. You never knew. Someday this young man might show up in her library in need of straightening out.