The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,80

of the entire school. Everyone knew. They looked at her with pity or laughter in their eyes, the slacker girl Josh Hargrove had led on, probably gotten what he wanted from, and then dumped. She knew what they were thinking.

“What do you want, Hannah?” he asked, his voice tight. “Do you want me to grovel?” He moved as if to go down on one knee. “If that’s what it takes—”

“Stop it.” She almost touched him, almost grabbed his arm to keep him from doing something that would draw even more notice than they were already getting. “You’ve humiliated me enough, okay? Just leave me alone.”

That was the only way this would work. She had to cut him out of her life entirely, and he had to do the same with her. It was the only way for her to save face. They each had to pretend the other didn’t exist. Romeo and Juliet they were not. More like the mismatched Heathcliff and Cathy, only Hannah was Heath-cliff, the almost-beast, barely civilized.

Josh reached out and put his hand on her arm. Hannah forced herself not to jump, not to react.

“Don’t touch me.” She was proud of how calm her voice sounded. She refused to allow her heart rate to pick up. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

Josh dropped his hand. “Would you please give me a chance to explain?”

Hannah shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Josh. I don’t know what I was thinking. Obviously, I wasn’t thinking at all.” Her throat tightened, and tears pricked at her eyes. “Go back to the football team and the cheerleaders and all of that, and just leave me alone. Leave me with at least a little dignity.”

He dropped his hand, and his brown eyes filled with hurt. “So I’m not allowed to make a mistake?”

“It was a lot more than a mistake, Josh. A mistake is forgetting your homework or throwing an interception.” She’d learned that much about football, sitting in the stands and silently cheering him on. “Everyone’s laughing at me, Josh. Me, not you. You’re still the great Josh Hargrove, football god, but I’m even more pathetic to all of them”—she waved toward the girls by the front doors—“than I was before.”

“Hannah—”

She stepped around him and walked toward the building.

“I’m moving back to Alabama.”

That stopped her, but she didn’t turn around. “When?”

“Spring break.”

Not that far away. Maybe after he left, the others would forget what had happened. Maybe they would let her return to her previous role as class loser instead of class laughingstock. She could only hope. Hope, and nurse a heart breaking at the news.

The only thing more painful than having Josh in her life was not having him in it at all.

“I’m sure they’ll welcome you back with open arms,” was all she could say before her voice broke. She raced up the steps, ignoring the curious looks from the other kids, and made a bee-line for her locker.

One day at a time. One hour at a time. And soon, though not soon enough, he’d be gone and everyone would forget that brief period of time when Hannah Simmons thought she was good enough to date a jock.

During her break that morning, Eugenie left the library and walked up the street to the church. The winter wind, damp and swirling, chilled her before she’d made it halfway between the two buildings. Eugenie was determined to corner Paul in his study and set a few matters straight.

For more than two months, she’d held her peace about Paul’s decision to cut back to part-time pay, just as she’d harbored the secret of her conversations with Hazel. Hazel had been right about one thing at least—for a minister, there was no such thing as part-time work.

What was Paul supposed to say to a parishioner who had an emergency late-night admission to the hospital? Or to the shut-ins he didn’t have time to visit if he restricted his hours? His salary adjustment had begun only a few weeks before, but already Eugenie could see his head bowed just a little lower, his shoulders drooping the smallest bit. Over time, she believed, those signs would worsen. Eugenie, of all people, knew that being paid a fair wage for hard work was vital to a persons self-esteem.

Cora Lee, Paul’s new secretary, waved at Eugenie from behind the plate-glass window that separated the church offices from the foyer. Ruthie Allen, Esther’s sister, had been the church secretary until she’d left to do mission work in Africa last