The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,77

at the top of the stairs and stepped inside, James hard on her heels. “Mom, I’m back,” she called. “And I’ve brought company.”

Several hours later, when they sat down to eat, Maria couldn’t believe how well the morning had gone. She also had no idea where the James Delevan she’d known before had gone.

Without even being asked, he had worked beside her, helping prepare the meal. As it turned out, he was a fairly experienced cook. He took over the sweet potato casserole and the green beans almondine while Maria made the dressing and Daphne finished the pies. The rooms above Munden’s had once been leased by a caterer who’d eventually gone broke, but she’d left behind double ovens and an enormous range. With a little coordination and some good luck, they managed to have everything ready at the same time, the turkey browned and beautiful enough to be on the cover of Martha Stewart Living.

Her mother had greeted James cordially, if a bit stiffly, and then retreated to the bedroom to watch television. Stephanie eventually appeared and, under duress, set the table for the meal. For the most part though, Maria, Daphne, and James had been left to their work.

Now, as Maria sat in the chair James had pulled out for her at their small dining table, she felt a little like Alice in Wonderland when she’d fallen down the rabbit hole.

The James Delevan who’d spent the morning by her side in the kitchen, elbow deep in sweet potatoes and beans, was not the same stuffy stranger who’d first come to her store or attended that covered dish dinner at the church. And he certainly wasn’t the same man she’d taken to the dentist that night. For one thing, he smiled quite a bit since all of his teeth were intact. And for another, he’d actually laughed at some of the jokes she and Daphne made. Something about him was different. The set of his shoulders was more relaxed, as was the line of his jaw.

“Thank you,” Maria said as he helped her push her chair closer to the table. “You’ve certainly earned your share of the meal.” She intended it to be humorous, but the words came out more seriously than she intended. “We don’t usually turn our guests into indentured servants,” she added, trying to lighten her tone.

“I enjoyed it,” was all he said.

He’d already seen her mother to her seat, and now he turned his attentions to Daphne and Stephanie. His chivalry clearly pleased Daphne, and Stephanie looked over the moon. Maria could almost see her trying to calculate James’s net worth in her head. Since Stephanie had never progressed much past long division, that was no doubt a feat beyond her abilities.

“Mama, would you like to say the blessing?” Maria asked.

Althea’s head popped up. “The blessing?”

Maria felt the flush that rose to her cheeks throughout her body. She didn’t want James Delevan to think they were total heathens. Not that they prayed before every meal, but her father had always done the honors on special occasions like this.

Daphne looked worriedly at Maria. “Maybe you should—”

“Dad always said the blessing,” Stephanie blurted with her usual lack of tact or sensitivity. “A man should say the blessing.”

Maria didn’t agree with that statement for several reasons, not the least of which was that James again looked like he’d been poleaxed.

“I can—,” she began.

“I’d be glad to,” he interrupted, but then turned an apologetic look on her. “Sorry. Of course you’d rather do it. Your family. Your house.”

Maria looked into his eyes, saw that haunted quality, and wondered again why he’d agreed to spend Christmas with them. He must have been really desperate or lonely. Or something equally awful.

“No. I mean, if you don’t mind…” She cleared her throat. “It would be great if you said the blessing.”

She wasn’t expecting much, a few formal, ritualized words like her father had always said. It had never been about the content of the prayer, of course. The ritual itself provided the meaning, the acknowledgment of the occasion.

James did more than that. He invited them to bow their heads, and then he prayed. Not stiffly or formally, but not like some of the long-winded, self-important preachers Maria had heard either. His prayer was well-thought-out, reminded them of the bounty of their blessings, and asked for guidance and strength to live lives of gratitude.

When he was done, everyone sat silently for a moment, even Stephanie and her mother, until Stephanie said, “Who’s going