The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,36

worry. Hannah’s just fine.”

He headed back to bed, and Eugenie’s attention returned to her knitting. A quarter of an hour later, she finally heard the sounds she’d been hoping for—the soft click of the deadbolt on the front door and footsteps in the foyer. Hannah was home.

“Eugenie?” The girl appeared in the kitchen doorway where Paul had stood a few minutes before. “I didn’t know you were going to wait up.” Hannah looked both pleased and skittish. The girl glanced at her watch. “It’s not quite eleven yet.”

“I wasn’t worried about you missing your curfew.” Eugenie folded her knitting and tucked it into the bag that sat at her feet. She smiled at Hannah, hoping to relieve the girl’s worry. “I was just trying to finish up my project for the meeting.” She nodded toward the chair next to her. “Are you hungry? Sit down and I’ll fix you something.”

Eugenie knew that her approach was hardly subtle, but she hoped Hannah would want to talk about her evening. Eugenie didn’t know everything a parent was supposed to do, but she thought listening to a teenage girl talk about her date fell in the motherly concern category.

“I’m not hungry,” Hannah said, but she did sit down. “Josh took me to the Dairy Dip for a hamburger after the game.”

“Was it crowded?”

Hannah shrugged. “Sort of. A lot of kids went to parties instead.”

Eugenie knew about the parties Sweetgum teenagers had been throwing for the last forty years. They usually involved a remote location, one or more kegs of beer, and some eventual consequences—usually legal or reproductive.

“Would you rather have gone to a party?” Eugenie felt compelled to ask.

Hannah shook her head. “Those kids aren’t my crowd.”

Eugenie wondered if Hannah even had a crowd. In the months since Hannah’s mother had taken off and Eugenie had been appointed the girl’s foster parent, she’d never heard Hannah mention a particular friend. Nor had the phone ever rung for her. It was as if the girl existed in a vacuum.

“How was the game?”

Hannah shrugged. “We won, but Josh didn’t seem very happy about it.” And then the girl did the strangest thing. She blushed, bright as a poppy. Eugenie wanted to find out why but made herself bite her tongue. She thought of Shakespeare’s Juliet, about the same age as the girl sitting beside her. The old bard had been wise enough to know that even the youngest heart could harbor deep feelings.

Eugenie glanced at the clock on the wall. “I think it’s time for me to get some rest.” She looked at Hannah once more. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

The girl paused. “Thank you for waiting up.” She looked away, not meeting Eugenie’s eyes. “It’s nice to…,” she faltered, “… well, to have someone who cares if I make it home okay.”

Hannah’s words knifed through Eugenie, but she forced herself to smile. “You’d better get to bed soon. Aren’t you helping Camille at the dress shop tomorrow?”

Hannah wasn’t an actual paid employee at Maxine’s, but Camille had agreed a few months before to let the girl help out around the store in exchange for some clothes to supplement her meager wardrobe. And even though Eugenie and Paul could more than afford to buy Hannah whatever she needed, she thought it was good for the girl to have the satisfaction of working for a reward.

“I won’t stay up much longer,” Hannah replied.

“All right then. Good night.” Eugenie wondered if she should pat the child or show some sort of affection, but she’d never been particularly demonstrative. She settled for smiling at her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Eugenie left the kitchen and headed for her bedroom. Perhaps she wasn’t the most natural parent God had ever made, but surely she was an improvement over Hannah’s mother, whose neglect would have an impact on the girl for years to come.

“Finally,” Paul mumbled when Eugenie slipped into bed beside him. He drew her close to his side, and with a snort, settled back into slumber. Eugenie put her head on his shoulder, rested her hand on his chest, and exhaled pure happiness.

Given time, Hannah would find her way. Given time, anything was possible, even winning over the Hazel Emersons of the world. She knew it as surely as she could feel Paul’s arms around her.

Maria reached for the vase on the mantelpiece and carried it to Daphne, who sat on the sofa, carefully wrapping breakables in newspaper before placing them in the box at her