The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,2
do. How else would I mean them?”
“How else, indeed?” Eugenie muttered under her breath.
“Well, I won’t keep you.” Hazel nodded. “Have a nice day, Eugenie.”
“You too, Hazel.” The response was automatic and helped Eugenie to cover her true sentiments. She stood in place for a long moment as Hazel moved past her, on her way to stir up trouble in some other quarter, no doubt. Then, with a deep breath, Eugenie forced herself to start moving toward Munden’s Five-and-Dime.
She had known it would be difficult, stepping into this unfamiliar role as a pastor’s wife. Paul had assured her that he had no expectations, that she should do what she felt was right. But Eugenie wondered if he had any idea of the trouble Hazel Emerson was stirring up right under his nose.
True, she hadn’t attended church for forty years. After she and Paul had ended their young romance, she’d blamed God for separating them. If Paul hadn’t felt called to the ministry, if he hadn’t refused to take her with him when he went to seminary, if she hadn’t stubbornly insisted on going with him or ending their relationship…
Last year she and Paul had found each other again, all these decades later, and she’d thought the past behind them. But here it was once more in the person of Hazel Emerson, raising troubling questions. Threatening Paul. Forcing Eugenie to examine issues she’d rather leave unanswered.
As the head of the Sweetgum Knit Lit Society, Eugenie had taken on responsibility for the well-being of the little group several years before. Since Ruthie Allen, the church secretary, had left for Africa last spring to do volunteer work, the group had experienced a definite void. It was time for an infusion of new blood, and after careful consideration, Eugenie had determined that Maria Munden was just the person the Knit Lit Society needed. What’s more, Maria needed the group too. The recent loss of her father must be quite difficult for her, Eugenie was sure. And so despite having had her feathers ruffled by Hazel Emerson, Eugenie walked into Munden’s Five-and-Dime with a firm purpose.
“Good morning, Maria,” Eugenie called above the whine of the door. For years she’d been after Tom Munden to use a little WD-40 on the hinges, but he had insisted that the noise bothered him less than the idea of a customer entering without him knowing it.
“Eugenie! Hello.” Maria straightened from where she stood slumped over the counter. She had red marks on her forehead from resting her head in her hands, and her nondescript shoulder-length brown hair hung on each side of her face in a clump. Eugenie had come at the right time. Maria was in her early thirties, but her fathers death seemed to have aged her ten years.
Maria came around the counter. “What can I help you with today?”
“Oh, I’m not here to buy anything,” Eugenie said, and then she was dismayed when disappointment showed in Maria’s eyes. With the superstores of the world creeping closer and closer to Sweetgum, mom-and-pop shops like Munden’s were living on borrowed time. Even if Tom Munden had lived, the inevitable day when the store closed couldn’t have been avoided.
“What did you need then?” Maria’s tone was polite but strained.
“I have an invitation for you.”
“An invitation?”
Eugenie stood a little straighter. “On behalf of the Sweet-gum Knit Lit Society, I’d like to extend an invitation to you to become a part of the group.”
Maria’s brown eyes were blank for a moment, and then they darkened. “The Knit Lit Society?”
“I can’t think of anyone who would be a better fit.” Eugenie paused. “If you don’t know how to knit, one of us can teach you. And I know you enjoy reading.” Maria was one of the most faithful and frequent patrons of the library. “I think you’d appreciate the discussion.”
Maria said nothing.
“If you’d like some time to think—”
“I’ll do it,” Maria said quickly as if she didn’t want to give herself time to reconsider. “I know how to knit. You won’t have to teach me.”
“Excellent,” Eugenie said, relieved. “Our meeting is this Friday.”
“Do I have to read something by then?” Lines of doubt wrinkled Maria’s forehead beneath the strands of gray that streaked her hair.
Eugenie shook her head. “I haven’t passed out the reading list for this year. This first meeting will be to get us organized.”
Relief eased the tight lines on her face.
“We meet at the church, of course,” Eugenie continued. “Upstairs, in the Pairs and Spares Sunday school room. If