The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,11

signals she was sending out, but he was certainly solicitous of the dog. She wasn’t as young as she used to be, but she was still the best-dressed, best-coiffed woman in Sweetgum.

He looked up at her. “He’s not in any immediate danger, but he needs his leg set. Just take him to Doc Everton’s. He’ll know what to do.”

“Oh. Of course.” She hid her dismay, and the man turned back to his truck. He returned with an old army blanket that had seen better days and spread it on the ground next to the dog. Esther stepped back to give him room to maneuver. He lifted the dog and smoothly settled him on the blanket. The animal whimpered but otherwise didn’t protest.

“You grab those two corners,” he instructed Esther. She started to object—surely he could lift the dog by himself—but his look silenced her. She took hold of the corners of the blanket nearest her while the man did the same on his end. “All right. Lift on the count of three.”

“Wait!” Esther glanced back at her car. “I need to open the door.” She darted across the asphalt and opened the passenger door of her Jaguar, thankful for the blanket to protect the leather interior. She returned to the dog and gripped the blanket. “Okay.”

Together, they maneuvered the dog around the front of her car. Trying to get the animal through the door, though, wasn’t as easy.

“Slide in there,” the man said to Esther, motioning to the space between the car frame and the open door. She did as he instructed, and he moved in behind her so they were both wedged into the small space. The dog whimpered when they gently swung him onto the seat. For a long moment, Esther thought the man wasn’t going to let go of the blanket and step away. He was very tall, and he smelled like new-mown grass.

“There you go, pup.” He settled the end of the blanket over the dog before moving away. Esther let out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t used to being close to strange men. Or any man, for that matter. Even Frank had learned to keep his distance over the years.

“Thank you.” Esther suddenly felt awkward. The man stood on the shoulder of the highway, and his green eyes met her gaze.

“No problem. I’d go with you, but—” He paused to glance at his watch. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. Must be the day for emergencies.”

“If you’ll give me your card, I’ll return your blanket after—” She broke off. Given her recent run of luck, the dog would probably die, but she didn’t want to say it out loud.

“I don’t have a card.” A smile teased at the corners of his lips. “And I don’t need the blanket back. It’s not good for much anyway.” He paused and looked at her so closely it made her take a small step backward. “He’s going to be okay. Just get him to Doc Everton’s.”

“Oh. Well, thank you again. For your help.” Another step backward. He must not be from Sweetgum, because she’d never seen him before. She wanted to ask him his name, but something stopped her. “I’d better get to the vet.”

“Drive safely.” He lifted his hand, waved, and turned to jog back to his truck. He drove off in a spurt of gravel, clearly anxious to get to his unknown destination.

Esther watched him go with a mixture of trepidation and relief. And then a sound from the car, the dog’s soft cry, turned her attention back to the problem at hand. She shut the passenger door and crossed back in front of the car. Esther slid behind the wheel and, after a quick glance over her shoulder, made a U-turn so that she was headed in the direction of town.

Straight back into the muddle that was her life, only this time with a broken dog in tow.

Eugenie arrived earlier than usual for the Knit Lit Society’s first meeting of the year. Tonight brought a fresh start—a new reading list and new knitting projects.

Under normal circumstances, Eugenie would have looked forward to this meeting, but the last few months had brought anything but normal circumstances. Camille’s mother had died less than two weeks ago. Ruthie was off doing mission work in Africa, and in her place would be Maria Munden, whom all of them knew but none of them knew well. Esther’s recent bereavement was not quite as fresh as Camille’s, but no doubt