The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,100
groaned and straightened, one hand to his back. “What are you going to do with it when you get to your new place?”
“I’ll bribe one of the maintenance men or something.”
“Seems like a strange thing to take with you. Where are you going to put it? You won’t have a yard.”
“I have a little patio. It will go there.”
“What’s so special about this statue?”
Esther paused, unsure if she should or even could answer him. For decades, being Esther Jackson had meant keeping her own counsel, never letting her guard down. This angel represented perhaps her darkest secret, one she’d never shared with anyone but Frank. She looked Brody up and down, as if sizing him up.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“Nobody but Frank knew about this angel.”
“Didn’t everybody who set foot in your backyard notice it?”
Esther shook her head. “I don’t mean its existence. I mean its purpose.”
Brody nodded. “It marks something important.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me what?”
Esther didn’t know what to do. “I’m not sure where to start.”
“The beginning’s usually the best place.”
“That might take awhile.”
He nodded. “Why don’t I help you finish here? Then I can follow you to the lake and help you unload that thing.”
Esther refused to cry, but she couldn’t avoid the mixture of gratitude and relief that rose in her throat. “I would appreciate that very much.”
Brody shrugged. “What are friends for?”
Esther bit her lip. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I had one.” The confession sprang out of her before she could stop it. “I’m a little out of practice.”
“Yeah,” Brody said agreeably. He put a friendly arm around her shoulders as they turned back toward the house. “But you’re getting better at it. Pretty soon you’ll be a pro.”
Esther laughed and felt a weight slip from her shoulders even as they were encircled by Brody’s arm. Change was inevitable as the tides, and she’d been forced to make the choice between allowing it to drag her under or fighting her way to the surface and swimming for the shore. For now, at least, her head was above water, and she could see dry land in the distance.
“I’ve got coffee on,” she said to Brody.
“I’d love some.”
Later she would tell him the story about the stone angel. How it had marked the place in the yard where she’d sprinkled the ashes of her first child, the little girl who died only hours after her birth. The little girl no one knew about, because she and Frank had lived in Nashville at the time.
But that was later, not now. For now, she would simply enjoy the company, and the comfort, of a friend.
At five o’clock on Saturday, Camille closed the door to the dress shop behind her and then reached up to put the key in the dead-bolt and turned it with a click. She stared for a long moment at the sign that still swayed gently on the other side of the glass.
Closed.
Her past, her time in Sweetgum, her memories. All that would change soon. She would take only essentials—dorm rooms were small. She’d need to work, too, when she got to Murfreesboro, but she could easily find something as an assistant manager at a retail chain store. Beyond that, she didn’t have to worry about anyone or anything else, except getting as far away from Sweetgum as she possibly could.
“Camille.”
Dante’s voice startled her, and she turned to face him. He stood on the sidewalk not ten feet away, still dressed in his coaching clothes even in the off season—anorak emblazoned with the Sweetgum High School mascot, those knit pants coaches always wore, and running shoes. The brim of a Tennessee Titans baseball cap shaded his eyes.
“Hey”
“I saw Natalie Grant at Tallulah’s.” He stared hard at her. “She said Esther Jackson bought your shop. When did this happen?”
Of course Natalie had found out. Camille nodded, her throat tight. She thought she’d have more time to prepare for this conversation. “I’m on my way to drop the keys off at her condo at the lake.”
Dante continued to regard her steadily, and that very calm made her nervous. She felt moisture breaking out across her forehead.
“I’ll drive you,” he said.
She started to protest, but before she could get the words out, he took her arm and hustled her toward his car.
“There’s no need—”
“We have to talk. Might as well tie up all your loose ends at the same time.”