The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,23
of local gossip might be, she couldn’t regret agreeing to see him. She’d wondered for a long time what might have happened if she hadn’t been so afraid of him in high school. She’d wondered if her whole life might have turned out differently. Maybe he would have taken her with him—to college and on to the pros. Or maybe he would have dumped her before graduation, broken her heart, and left her in Sweetgum, even lonelier than she was now.
At the last meeting of the Knit Lit Society, Eugenie had wanted to know their definition of love. And she’d said quickly enough that to her love meant doing things for other people. But she hadn’t told the complete truth. Because secretly, in her heart of hearts, she knew that love meant opening up her entire being to another person, a person who, like her father, could walk away and destroy her all over again. Or like her mother, who wouldn’t want to leave, but wouldn’t have any choice in the matter.
Standing on the sidewalk in front of her house, Camille wondered if she would ever have the courage or the faith to love someone that way again.
Maria had almost refused to attend the covered dish dinner that Sunday evening at the church, but her older sister, Daphne, had persuaded her to relent.
“If you don’t go, I’ll be forced to run interference between Mama and Mrs. Emerson by myself. And I’d really like to enjoy the evening a little.”
Daphne rarely resorted to guilt, and the overbearing Mrs. Emerson was sure to antagonize their mother, so Maria couldn’t help but give in. Daphne had no idea just how effective her strategy was. In the almost two weeks since Maria had signed the papers to begin the sale of the farm, she’d continued to put off telling her mother and sisters the truth. Better to let them continue in ignorant bliss for as long as possible. But Daphne’s gentle guilting—
Maria didn’t stand a chance against that. So just before six o’clock she found herself climbing from the backseat of her mother’s yacht of a Cadillac. She leaned back in the car and retrieved the casserole dish with its thermal cover. The strong smell of tuna and cream of mushroom soup clashed with the pine scent of the car’s air freshener. Thankfully, the ride to the church was a short one.
“Maria. You came after all.” Annabeth Logan, Maria’s closest friend, hurried across the small parking lot toward her. She, too, carried a casserole dish. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”
“Daphne worked her mojo on me.”
“I wish I had her touch.” Annabeth was as petite as Maria was tall. Her plump figure showed her love of children—she had three—as well as her fondness for baked goods. Annabeth and her family ran the bakery on the town square next door to the five-and-dime. “We’d better get moving or we’ll be late.”
Maria nodded in agreement, but her feet felt like lead as they approached the rear of the church and the double glass doors that led to the fellowship hall. Daphne and her mother disappeared inside the building, surrounded by a gaggle of other church ladies.
Church suppers invariably followed the same pattern. The older ladies clucked like hens, shifting dishes on the three tables laid end to end until the twenty-four feet of food resembled the messianic banquet. Fifteen minutes after the meal was supposed to begin, the preacher would finally get everyone to quiet down so he could say the blessing. And then the older men, who had been lining up for the last half hour, would descend on the casseroles and side dishes and salads like locusts on a field of grain. The women and children would make do with conversation and whatever the men left behind.
After handing off her casserole to a pair of eager hands, Maria scanned the fellowship hall for her mother and sister. Annabeth, her hands also free now, joined her.
“Look There’s an empty table in the back. Let’s save some seats.”
Maria nodded in agreement, and they threaded their way across the room.
“Where are your kids?” Maria asked as they turned sideways in the narrow aisle to allow Henry Hale to pass. The church organist was almost as broad as he was tall, so they had to squeeze up against the folks already seated at one of the numerous round tables.
“The older two are helping Bob at the bakery, and Amy’s with my mom.”