The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love

by Beth Pattillo

  He stared back at her, uncomprehending, and let out another sharp bark.

  “Good night,” Esther said. She reached inside the door frame and turned the light off. The kitchen wasn’t pitch-black either. A soft glow from the outside lights came through the windows above the sink.

  She wasn’t ten steps away when the dog began to cry, an agonizing whimper of fear. Esther stopped. Turned. Told herself she shouldn’t do what she was about to do.

  “All right. Come on.”

  She reached down and lifted the handle on the baby gate, dislodging it from the door frame. The dog bounded through like a prisoner making a dash for freedom. He headed for the stairs and raced up them until he was out of sight.

  Esther followed at a slower pace. By the time she reached her bedroom, the dog had already made himself at home, curled up on her pillow.

  “I don’t think so. Off.” She barked the last word. Might as well speak to him in his own language.

  The dog looked at her, cocked his head, and remained right where he was.

  “I said off.” She snapped her fingers and pointed toward the floor. She should have brought up the old blanket she’d put in the kitchen for him. “Now.”

  The dog stood, and Esther felt pleased. She would show the animal she was in charge. “That’s a good—No. You may not sleep on that pillow either.”

  The dog appeared unperturbed by her scolding. He circled around three times and then settled into a little ball on what would have been, once upon a time, Frank’s pillow.

  “I said—” Esther stopped herself. Did it really matter all that much? She knew she should make the dog move, at least to the foot of the bed. But the darkness was still there, and she was tired of being alone.

  “Just for tonight,” she said as she got back into bed. The dog looked at her with those big, sad brown eyes. A lot like Frank’s eyes, to tell the truth. “I mean it. Tomorrow night it’s back to the kitchen. I’ll get you a hot water bottle or a ticking clock or something.”

  The dog closed his eyes, heaved a deep sigh, and promptly went to sleep.

  For Esther, the peace of sleep proved more elusive. She turned so that her back was to the dog and her eyes were fixed on the large green numbers of her alarm clock. She watched as the minutes ticked by, waiting for her eyelids to grow heavy and for sleep to overtake her.

  Eventually it did, but not before she’d spent a good, long time listening to the dog snore almost as loudly as Frank.

  By the end of the first week in October, Hannah had figured out how to get from one class to another without running into Josh. And if she got to honors English early enough, she could sit in the back of the room. He was always one of the last ones through the door—the popular kids hung out in the hallway until the very last minute—so he and Courtney usually sat side by side in the front row.

  Fortunately, Josh didn’t ride her bus since he had football practice until five o’clock every day. On Fridays, though, she didn’t take the bus. Instead she walked to the library to meet Eugenie. Rev. Carson would take them out for dinner, and sometimes they went to a movie at the theater on the square.

  The whole nuclear family thing felt surreal to Hannah, who had grown up on the outskirts of town in a run-down trailer. Her mom had always worked as a cocktail waitress on Friday nights. Hannah had long ago learned to fix a box of macaroni and cheese and set the television antennas so that she could pick up one of the Nashville channels.

  On Friday after the last bell rang, Hannah was headed down the front steps of the high school when she heard Josh call her name.

  “Wait up.”

  She turned to watch him jogging toward her and wished the sight of him didn’t make her knees so shaky.

  “Hey” he said as he got nearer. “Where you headed?”

  Hannah shrugged. “The library. I have to meet Mrs. Carson.”

  “I’ll walk with you.” He didn’t ask, just fell into step beside her as she started moving down the sidewalk. She was surprised he was talking to her after the way their last conversation had ended almost two weeks ago.

  “What’s up, Josh?” She couldn’t keep the edge out of her voice. He had to know the score by now. Had to know what a loser she was in the eyes of most of her classmates.

  He smiled. “I figured something out.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I figured out why you were so rude to me.”

  A part of her froze even as she continued to keep moving. “Yeah?”

  Josh nudged her shoulder with his. “You were always like that when we were kids. When you got all frosty on me, it meant you didn’t feel safe.”

  Hannah felt her jaw drop and closed it with a snap. “Who are you? Sweetgum’s answer to Dr. Phil?”

  “I’m just saying.” He shifted his backpack from one shoulder to the other.

  “Shouldn’t you be at football practice?”

  “No practice. Big game tonight. I don’t have to be in the locker room until five.”

  “Then shouldn’t you be hanging out with cheerleaders or something?”

  Josh shrugged. “Nah. I’d rather hang out with you.”

  “Josh—”

  “Yeah?”

  But what could she say without emphasizing her loser status?

  “Nothing.” She started walking again. The sooner she got to the library the sooner she could ditch him.

  “You thirsty?”

  It was Hannah’s turn to shrug.

  “We could stop at the Dairy Dip.”

  Yeah, right. If the football players weren’t at practice, they would all be piled into the booths at the Dairy Dip, eating their weight in cheeseburgers while the popular girls drank Diet Coke.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “But you are thirsty.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I can tell.”

  “Are you always this persistent?”

  But he was, she remembered. Once Josh got an idea in his head, he worried it to death. She remembered the time he’d decided to jump Sweetgum Creek at the narrow place about halfway between their trailer park and town. He’d made the attempt day after day landing in the water over and over until he was soaked to the skin. Then, finally, one day he did it, sailed from one bank to the other like a flying squirrel. Josh had grinned like he’d just won a gold medal. He clearly hadn’t minded the hundreds of attempts it had taken for him to reach his goal.

  “I don’t like to give up,” he said. “So where you headed again?”

  “The library.”

  “Studying?”

  “No. I’m meeting Mrs. Carson.”

  “Who’s she?”

  “Mrs. Carson’s the librarian. She used to be Miss Pierce until she got married a few months ago.”

  “The old lady librarian?”

  “She’s not that old.” Hannah bristled.

  Josh held up both hands in front of him. “Whoa. Sorry. No offense.”

  Hannah kept her gaze on her shoes as they walked. “She’s sort of my guardian now.”

  There it was—the truth she hadn’t wanted to tell him. Shame suffused her entire body. Since everyone in town knew that her mother had run off and left her, she didn’t usually have to tell anyone about it. But Josh hadn’t been here, didn’t know that even her own mother didn’t think she was worth sticking around for.

  “What about—”

  “My mom? She took off.”

  His eyes widened in astonishment. “Are you kidding me?”

  “C’mon, Josh. You remember what she was like. You were there all the times she showed up drunk for school stuff.” She might as well jog his memory get the truth out in the open.

  He nodded. “Yeah, well, at least she showed up. Mine never thought I was worth taking off work for.”

  Hannah was quiet for a moment. She’d forgotten that. Josh’s mom had been pretty and always smiled at Hannah, but she never came to school functions or any of Josh’s Little League ga
mes.

  “Will your mom come to the game tonight?” The question was spontaneous, but the moment she asked it, she blushed. What if his mom still didn’t show up to support him?

  He nodded. “Yeah. She’ll be there. I wasn’t good enough at baseball for her to bother, but football…” He paused. “Anyway, she comes to football games.”

  “Someone told me you were the star of your middle school team back in Alabama.”

  “I did okay.”

  They turned the corner onto Spring Street. The library was only a few blocks away now.

  “I heard you got starting quarterback. No freshman at Sweetgum High has ever started at quarterback.”

  “It’s no big deal.” But he looked pleased that she knew about it. “Look, if you don’t want to go the Dairy Dip, why don’t you come to the game tonight?” His face had gone all serious, which caused a different kind of anxiety to bloom in Hannah’s middle.

  “I have plans already.” She didn’t want to tell him about dinner and a movie with the Carsons. She was enough of a nerd already.

  “C’mon. Show some school spirit.”

  Hannah couldn’t look at him. “I don’t want to ask the Carsons to come and get me that late,” she prevaricated. “Old people don’t like to drive at night.”

  “I can walk you home.”

  Now the feelings in her stomach rose up to fill her chest, a mixture of pleasure and apprehension. “Josh—”

  He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and despite her intention to ditch him, Hannah did the same.

  “It’s just a football game,” she said. “Why are you making such a big deal about it?”

  Josh rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Were you always this much trouble?”

  Hannah had to smile at that. “Definitely.”

  He smiled back. “Yeah. I thought so.”

  How could she resist that delicious grin? Or the allure of finding an old friend who also happened to have turned into a hottie? “Okay. I’ll go to the game, if you’ll quit bugging me.”

  “Cool.” He turned and started walking again, and Hannah had to scramble to catch up. For the next few blocks she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of just being with him, talking to him, and letting his sunny smile wash over her. Might as well indulge while she could. He’d return to Courtney and her kind soon enough.

  As Camille rode with Merry to the football game that Friday night, she was regretting her decision to have dinner with Dante.

  Not that long ago, Friday nights at the high school stadium had been the center of her world. She’d felt powerful there, alive, with the crowd and the lights and the attention. Her father had always been there in the stands, cheering her on just as she cheered the team on. Her mother had been there too, looking happy and proud to be sitting beside her handsome husband. Until, suddenly, neither of them had been there.

  “Courtney refused to ride with me,” Merry said as she pulled her minivan onto the grassy field at the far end of the stadium that served as an overflow parking lot. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

  Camille was glad, too, for Merry’s company. She hadn’t been to a football game in several years because she hadn’t wanted to leave her mother alone. But she’d always loved the excitement of Friday night—the warm fall evening, the smell of popcorn in the air, the fizz of an ice-cold Coke on her tongue, the sounds of the marching band drifting over the stands. Once a week, the entire town of Sweetgum could put aside its differences and come together to cheer for the team.

  She hadn’t told Merry about Dante, although she assumed the other woman had likely heard something through the rumor mill. As Camille had expected, their walk home from church had not gone unnoticed.

  The two women made their way to the gate, paid the admission fee, and visited the concession stand. Merry stopped every few feet to talk with someone, and Camille stayed with her, smiling but not falling into conversation with anyone in particular. She was steeling herself for the moment when they would climb the stairs into the stands and she would see Dante down on the field.

  “Sorry” Merry apologized when they finally made their way to their seats.

  They sat in one of the higher sections with the other adults, leaving the lower part to the students and the marching band. Camille could see Merry’s daughter Courtney sitting with the pep squad, a group of freshman girls who carried pompoms and served as the incubator for next year’s cheerleaders. On the far side of the student section, she caught sight of Hannah, sitting by herself, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She looked like she was attending her own execution rather than a sporting event.

  Finally, when Camille had thoroughly inspected the stands, she allowed her gaze to move to the sideline. The edge of the field closest to them was lined with Sweetgum’s players, their white uniforms still pristine. That would change in just a few minutes.

  And then there was Dante in a white oxford shirt, tie, and dress slacks. Just the sight of him made Camille’s mouth water more than the smell of popcorn ever had.

  “Close your mouth, Camille.” Merry’s amused voice penetrated the fog that had come over her at the sight of Dante. She jerked around to find Merry laughing at her, but there was kindness and good humor in her eyes. “He is a very attractive man.”

  Camille glanced around to see if anyone had heard Merry’s comment and then ducked her head, feeling sheepish. “I don’t know—”

  “What I’m talking about?” Merry scooped a handful of popcorn from the bucket they were sharing and lifted it to her mouth. “Nice try, honey.” She munched thoughtfully for a long moment while Camille tried to figure out how to dig herself out of the hole she’d created, but Merry spoke again before Camille could think of anything to say.

  “I know you just lost your mom, but she’d be the first one to tell you that life goes on.” Merry’s smile dimmed, her face growing serious. “And she would want you to find some semblance of normality, Camille. That includes men and dating and, I hope at some point, someone worthy of you for the long haul.”

  Camille waved her hand. “I’m not interested in that.”

  “Then you’re the first woman I’ve ever met who wasn’t.”

  At that exact moment, Dante turned away from the field, and she could see him scanning the crowd. He stopped when he caught sight of her. The effect was just as potent from a distance as when he’d been standing in front of her on the sidewalk at her house. He smiled, and the effect of that was just as intoxicating, too.

  “Somebody’s happy you’re here,” Merry said in a teasing tone as she gave Camille a nudge.

  “We’re just friends.” That was all she could think to say.

  “Sure you are, honey. Sure you are.” Merry didn’t sound any more convinced than Camille was. And in a few hours, after everyone in Sweetgum saw them together at Tallulah’s, no one in the world would believe that this connection between them was purely platonic.

  And Camille wouldn’t be able to pretend it was anymore either.

  Hannah wiggled in her seat, the hard wooden bleacher offering no comfort whatsoever. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to come to the game, much less let Josh walk her home. If she had still lived in the trailer park with her mom, she never would have told him yes. For one thing, it would have been too far to walk. And for another, she couldn’t have stood to have Josh see how much worse the trailer looked than it had when he’d moved away.

  Tonight, though, she could take him to the parsonage and not be ashamed or embarrassed. Her mother wouldn’t be lying on the couch in nothing but a T-shirt, smoking a cigarette and finishing off a six-pack Eugenie and Rev. Carson would be sitting in the wingback chairs in the living room, reading or listening to music. They’d probably offer Josh milk and cookies. It would all be normal and safe and…temporary. Security never lasted. Hannah knew that. But she had it for now, so she might as well take advantage of it.

  “I didn’t know you liked football.”

  Hannah
twisted on the bleacher to find Camille St. Clair sliding into place next to her. She was too surprised to respond for a moment. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she felt that familiar sense of shame wash over her.

  “I don’t really.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Well, that would explain why you’re here.” Camille’s gaze went to the sidelines. “Who is he?”

  “Who is who?” Hannah snapped, but the flame in her cheeks didn’t subside. How did Camille know?

  “Most girls only attend football games to watch the boys,” Camille said with a conspiratorial smile. “If not the ones on the field, then the ones in the stands. Which are you? Field or stands?”

  Hannah thought about denying it, but what other reason could she invent to explain her presence at the game?

  “Field,” she said miserably, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her chin in her hands. “Because I’m a complete idiot.”

  Camille laughed. “No, honey, you’re not an idiot. Just a girl.”

  At that moment, a roar went up from the crowd. Hannah jumped to her feet to see what was happening, as did Camille. All she could see was a Sweetgum player streaking up the field, everyone else in pursuit.

  “What’s happening?” she asked Camille.

  “Quarterback draw. Dante’s been setting them up for it for the last two series.”

  “Huh?” Camille might as well have been speaking Latin for all Hannah understood.

  “It was the new quarterback,” Camille said. “He just scored a touchdown.”

  Hannah’s flush of shame was replaced by one of pride and pleasure. “Really?”

  Camille shot her a look out of the corner of the eye. “Oh no, Hannah. Not the quarterback.”

  Hannah’s silence betrayed her. Camille reached over and put an arm around her, squeezed her shoulders.

  “You have my sympathy. Quarterbacks are the worst. After fullbacks, of course.” She smiled in a way that Hannah didn’t understand, but she thought it had something to do with what Mrs. Budge was always calling irony.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” Hannah said in a low voice. Despite the wild cheering around them, Camille nodded to show she’d heard.