The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,79
yarn and needles and looked around the table. “We should respect her privacy.”
Camille made a wry face. “A little late for that.” The others laughed, and the tension eased.
“I’m just going to keep asking,” Hannah said. “Who is your Rhett Butler?”
Esther paused and looked from one lady to another. Then she shook her head. “No. I can’t tell you.”
“You have to tell us.” Camille leaned forward in her seat. “Come on. We deserve to know.”
The others, except Eugenie, nodded in agreement. Esther suppressed a groan. Why had she opened her mouth to begin with?
“All right. If you must know, I think Ranger is my Rhett Butler.”
“Your dog?” Eugenie peered at her over the top of her reading glasses, confusion pulling at the corners of her eyes.
“Yes. The dog.” Esther wanted to slide under the table in embarrassment.
“He’s the love of your life?” Camille said. Esther could see amusement in the younger woman’s eyes.
“Yes, I think he might be.”
She’d expected them to burst out into laughter. Instead they all looked at each other, then at the table, and finally back at her.
“Well,” Maria said. And then smiled.
“Huh.” Camille resumed knitting.
Hannah snorted. “The love of your life is a dog?”
The laughter did erupt then, but it was good-natured and Esther didn’t take offense. She knew how strange it sounded, but it was also true. She only hoped none of the ladies repeated the story outside of their meeting. She’d fallen far enough in the eyes of Sweetgum as it was.
“On that note,” Eugenie said, “perhaps we should share our projects.”
“I’m guessing Esther knit Ranger a sweater,” Hannah said with a teasing grin. Esther laughed along with the others, but only to cover up the rawness of her emotions.
Self-discovery should come with a first-aid kit, she decided.
As the end of January approached, Hannah practically barricaded herself in her room at the parsonage and read, dispatching Wuthering Heights in a matter of days.
She thought it was kind of a stupid story. All those people trying to be someone they weren’t and making themselves miserable in the process. In her heart though, she knew she wasn’t that different from the characters in the book. That had been her mistake with Josh. She’d tried to be someone she wasn’t—the quarterbacks girlfriend—and life, or fate or whatever you wanted to call it, had given her a major smack-down for her trouble.
Since that horrible Saturday by the creek, she had refused to take Josh’s phone calls. Mrs. Carson looked at her with troubled eyes every time Hannah said to tell Josh she wasn’t home. Mrs. Carson never told that lie, of course. She said Hannah was “unavailable,” which was true. She didn’t have time for jerks who treated girls like dirt.
One morning, though, when she turned up the walk that led to the front doors of the high school, Josh was sitting on the steps waiting for her. She almost pivoted on her heel and left, but she stopped herself and straightened her spine, hoisting her backpack higher on one shoulder. If she ran now, she’d be running the rest of the year.
“Hey” Josh didn’t look good. His hair was mussed, and the collar of his polo shirt stuck up on one side. “I was waiting for you.”
“I see that.” She wouldn’t make this easy for him, whatever he wanted to say. Not when just the sight of him made her want to burst into tears. Not when she could feel the eyes of dozens of other students on them, especially the heavily made-up ones belonging to the group of cheerleaders and pompom girls milling around by the front doors.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” He looked hurt, which sparked the latent anger in her heart.
“Why won’t I talk to you?” She shook her head. “You really are a piece of work.” That was an expression her mother had always used, usually in reference to Hannah.
Josh rose from the steps and towered over her. She wished he had stayed seated. It made it easier not to cry when she looked down on him instead of vice versa.
“Look, Hannah, I know I messed up. I messed up big time.”
“Yes. You did.”
He wiped a hand across his face and looked at the ground for a long moment. “I’m sorry.” His eyes rose to meet her gaze. “I’m really sorry. I was stupid. I know that.”
“That makes two of us.” She refused to give a single inch. Why should she make this easy for him? He hadn’t been humiliated in front