The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,29
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