The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,91

It had been twisted out of recognition and then abandoned.

Hannah bit back tears and hoped no one noticed the spots where some of them fell on the baby’s blanket.

Eugenie had never been given to rash actions. All her life she’d taken measured steps. As Jane Austen would say, she was a rational creature. Eugenie knew that sound, considered decisions yielded the best results, but her decision to speak in front of the church, as impulsive as it had been that day in Paul’s office, wasn’t one she wanted to change.

So the next time Hazel Emerson came into the library, Eugenie was prepared.

“About the concerns you’ve shared with me,” she found herself saying to Hazel. “I’ve—”

“Made your position quite clear.” Hazel sniffed. “I’m not here to pester you anymore. If you don’t mind watching your husband’s career implode, I’m sure there’s nothing I can—”

“I’ve asked Paul if I can speak to the congregation.”

Hazel’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. If nothing else, the decision was worth it just to behold that sight.

“I’m sorry?” Poor Hazel seemed quite disoriented.

“I’ve thought it over,” Eugenie continued, “and I think the only way people’s questions about my faith can be put to rest is if I address the church members directly”

“But—”

“Isn’t that what you suggested? That I prove my faith to the church?”

“Well, I didn’t mean it in exactly…that is, of course, it would be your decision…” For the first time since Eugenie had known her, Hazel Emerson was at a loss for words.

“Some people still won’t be satisfied, I know.” Eugenie paused. “But I can tell you what I will say.”

Hazel stiffened. “It’s not as if we’re judging—”

“Yes, you are.” Eugenie made an effort to keep her tone measured and even, although it wasn’t easy. “Which is one of the reasons I stayed away from church for forty years.”

“You can hardly blame the church for that.” Hazel put her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “After all, if God is missing from our lives, it’s because we turned away.”

“Yes, yes. I’ve heard that one before.” Eugenie wondered that people could find comfort in old chestnuts like that one. “That’s the kind of belittling reprimand that passes for theology. Frankly, I don’t think it’s worthy of a loving God. I would think He’d have a bit more compassion for the lost.”

“I’m sure I—”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Eugenie didn’t want to make any more of an adversary out of Hazel than she already had. “What I will say, when I speak to the congregation, is that they are certainly free to criticize my faith if they feel I’ve acted in an un-Christian manner over the last forty years. And they certainly have a point if they censure me for not being an active part of a congregation. But as to my relationship with God—” She drew a deep breath. “As to my status as a believer, they have no right to anything. While my practice may have been lacking in some people’s eyes, my faith is a private matter.”

Hazel didn’t seem to know whether to look jubilant or disappointed. She’d gotten what she asked for, but not really. Eugenie was smart enough to know that what Hazel really wanted was to have Eugenie under her thumb as she’d had the last few pastors’ wives.

“I’m sure you’ll do as you see fit,” Hazel said, but without her usual conviction in her own judgment.

“I’m glad that’s settled then.” Eugenie nodded at the library book in Hazel’s hand. “Did you want me to check that out for you?” If nothing else, Hazel’s quest to make Eugenie prove her faith had turned the other woman into a library regular. Perhaps one day she’d even open one of the books she checked out and start reading it.

That evening after supper, when Hannah had drifted off to her room and Eugenie sat with Paul in the living room by the fireplace, she broached the subject of her testimony.

“I told Hazel I would speak to the congregation,” she said to Paul.

He lowered his book and looked at her over the top of his glasses. “I still want you to reconsider.” He’d been putting her off over the last few weeks, hoping she would change her mind. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” Paul’s mouth drew down. “You know that I—”

“Have never pushed me to be the traditional pastor’s wife. Yes, I know.” She stopped, laid her own book in her lap, and sighed. “Much as we both might want to pretend it