The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,31

She hadn’t been to a football game in several years because she hadn’t wanted to leave her mother alone. But she’d always loved the excitement of Friday night—the warm fall evening, the smell of popcorn in the air, the fizz of an ice-cold Coke on her tongue, the sounds of the marching band drifting over the stands. Once a week, the entire town of Sweetgum could put aside its differences and come together to cheer for the team.

She hadn’t told Merry about Dante, although she assumed the other woman had likely heard something through the rumor mill. As Camille had expected, their walk home from church had not gone unnoticed.

The two women made their way to the gate, paid the admission fee, and visited the concession stand. Merry stopped every few feet to talk with someone, and Camille stayed with her, smiling but not falling into conversation with anyone in particular. She was steeling herself for the moment when they would climb the stairs into the stands and she would see Dante down on the field.

“Sorry” Merry apologized when they finally made their way to their seats.

They sat in one of the higher sections with the other adults, leaving the lower part to the students and the marching band. Camille could see Merry’s daughter Courtney sitting with the pep squad, a group of freshman girls who carried pompoms and served as the incubator for next year’s cheerleaders. On the far side of the student section, she caught sight of Hannah, sitting by herself, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She looked like she was attending her own execution rather than a sporting event.

Finally, when Camille had thoroughly inspected the stands, she allowed her gaze to move to the sideline. The edge of the field closest to them was lined with Sweetgum’s players, their white uniforms still pristine. That would change in just a few minutes.

And then there was Dante in a white oxford shirt, tie, and dress slacks. Just the sight of him made Camille’s mouth water more than the smell of popcorn ever had.

“Close your mouth, Camille.” Merry’s amused voice penetrated the fog that had come over her at the sight of Dante. She jerked around to find Merry laughing at her, but there was kindness and good humor in her eyes. “He is a very attractive man.”

Camille glanced around to see if anyone had heard Merry’s comment and then ducked her head, feeling sheepish. “I don’t know—”

“What I’m talking about?” Merry scooped a handful of popcorn from the bucket they were sharing and lifted it to her mouth. “Nice try, honey.” She munched thoughtfully for a long moment while Camille tried to figure out how to dig herself out of the hole she’d created, but Merry spoke again before Camille could think of anything to say.

“I know you just lost your mom, but she’d be the first one to tell you that life goes on.” Merry’s smile dimmed, her face growing serious. “And she would want you to find some semblance of normality, Camille. That includes men and dating and, I hope at some point, someone worthy of you for the long haul.”

Camille waved her hand. “I’m not interested in that.”

“Then you’re the first woman I’ve ever met who wasn’t.”

At that exact moment, Dante turned away from the field, and she could see him scanning the crowd. He stopped when he caught sight of her. The effect was just as potent from a distance as when he’d been standing in front of her on the sidewalk at her house. He smiled, and the effect of that was just as intoxicating, too.

“Somebody’s happy you’re here,” Merry said in a teasing tone as she gave Camille a nudge.

“We’re just friends.” That was all she could think to say.

“Sure you are, honey. Sure you are.” Merry didn’t sound any more convinced than Camille was. And in a few hours, after everyone in Sweetgum saw them together at Tallulah’s, no one in the world would believe that this connection between them was purely platonic.

And Camille wouldn’t be able to pretend it was anymore either.

Hannah wiggled in her seat, the hard wooden bleacher offering no comfort whatsoever. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to come to the game, much less let Josh walk her home. If she had still lived in the trailer park with her mom, she never would have told him yes. For one thing, it would have been too far to walk. And for another, she