the occasional devastation.
“I don’t think Solomon accounts much for the outside world,” Camille said with disdain. “Sure, it can be great if it’s just you and the other person. But love doesn’t occur in a vacuum. In real life, it’s not that simple.”
Ah, Eugenie thought. So Camille wasn’t completely indifferent to Dante.
“Especially if you fall for the wrong person,” Maria interjected.
Eugenie’s head shot up at this. What in the world was going on with Maria? “So is Solomon’s description of love just a fantasy? Can two people ever really achieve that kind of intimacy?” Eugenie asked.
Merry blushed. “They can.” And then she smiled. “At least, Jeff and I have. Not every day and not every hour. But most of the time. Or at least enough to make life a really wonderful thing.”
Eugenie had to nod her assent at Merry’s assertion. “I think so too.”
Camille shook her head. “I think it’s cruel to put that kind of unobtainable ideal out there and then lead people to think they can have it.” She stopped, nodded at Merry and Eugenie for politeness’ sake. “Although maybe there are exceptions,” she offered by way of apology.
“Why put this book in the Bible then?” Eugenie asked, interested to see what the women would say.
“It’s simple. Love comes from God,” Merry said. “All forms of love.”
“And none of them are easy,” Maria pointed out. “But this book”—she waved at the Bible on the table in front of her—“when something like that is in there, it says that God wants us to have the gift of romantic love.”
“Are you sure it’s not just to show us what we’re missing?” Camille replied. “Or another example of what we can never achieve as human beings?”
“What keeps us from having that kind of love?” Eugenie wanted to push them on this question. “Why is it so difficult to establish that level of intimacy?”
“Because men are stupid,” Hannah answered flatly. Her eyes were suspiciously damp, Eugenie noticed. Something had definitely gone wrong with the Hargrove boy. Tonight was the first time Hannah had missed a football game.
“Because most of them can’t see what’s right under their noses,” Maria said, adding her two cents to the condemnation of the opposite sex.
“Intimacy doesn’t work because you can’t depend on a man,” Camille said. “They never turn out to be worth your trust.”
Merry laid a gentle hand on Camille’s arm. “Not all of them are that way honey. Just some.”
Camille pulled her arm away from Merry’s touch. “I’ve yet to meet the ones who aren’t.”
“Are women any better, though?” Eugenie said. “We don’t always make it easy on the men.” She knew that from personal experience. When Paul had reappeared in her life, she’d pushed him away and continued to hold him at arm’s length until she’d finally come to her senses and decided that holding on to past resentments wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as moving forward with the man she’d always loved.
“Loving someone that much is always risky,” Merry said. “There are no guarantees. Even after you get married.”
“You can’t love without making yourself too vulnerable.” Clearly Camille felt strongly on the subject.
“Love isn’t worth it.” Hannah didn’t look up from her knitting.
Eugenie suppressed a smile. She wasn’t so old that she couldn’t remember how painful a first love could be, and it appeared that Hannah was discovering that for the first time.
“Well, I suppose we all have to form our own opinions about whether it’s worthwhile to fall in love,” Eugenie said. “Now, I’m eager to see your projects. What do you have tonight?”
“I hope it didn’t have to be all purling,” Merry said. “I made Jeff a checkerboard scarf. I thought it looked more like something a man would wear.” She showed the maroon piece, on which she’d alternated groups of knit and purl stitches to create the desired effect.
“I made Paul a scarf too,” Eugenie said. She’d chosen a warm shade of blue to match Paul’s eyes.
Maria produced a round piece of lavender wool from her bag. “I made a hat for Daphne.” She shook her head, but a small smile played at the corner of her lips. “I don’t know what I would have done without her these last few weeks.”
Eugenie nodded, wanting to console Maria somehow, but now was not the time. Perhaps simply having a place to talk about her difficulties, even with as little as she had said during the meeting, would be of some help.
“I made something for myself,” Camille said, her chin lifted a little,