The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love Page 5

  “I’m going to put you in teams of three,” Mrs. Budge said, “and I want you to read, starting on page seventy-eight, to get a feel for the language.”

  Hannah’s stomach knotted. She knew what was coming. She was Hannah Simmons after all, and while she’d gotten a few breaks recently, her luck was about to go south, just as it always did.

  Mrs. Budge looked in Hannah’s direction. “The three of you are a group.” She gestured at the little triangle of desks that included Hannah, Courtney, and Josh. Then she moved on. “You three there. And the three in the back.” She kept going, but Hannah didn’t care. Her fate was sealed. If she had to face Josh Hargrove, why couldn’t plain and plump Sissy Darlington be the buffer instead of Courtney?

  “Hi!” Courtney swung her desk around to face Josh.

  “Hey.” He half stood and pivoted his desk as well, and then there he was, looking at her. And smiling.

  Dimples? He had dimples?

  “I’m Courtney.” She stuck out her hand, professionally manicured of course, and Josh took it. “Welcome to Sweetgum.”

  “Thanks.” His smile changed—still there but not as genuine. “I appreciate it.”

  Hannah took a deep breath and decided she might as well get it over with. “Hey, Josh.”

  The real smile returned, the one that reached all the way to his brown eyes. “Hey, Hannah.”

  Confusion etched Courtney’s MAC-heavy face. “You two know each other?”

  Hannah looked at Josh, and he winked at her. She suddenly felt ten pounds lighter. “Josh used to live in Sweetgum, Courtney. He went to elementary school with us.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really?”

  Josh leaned back in his desk, and his long legs sprawled out. “Really.”

  Courtney chewed her lip. You could tell she was thinking hard, searching her memory but coming up empty. Josh took pity on her.

  “I was about half the size I am now, big glasses, and in need of an orthodontist.” He flashed a now-perfect smile.

  Courtney blushed, but her discomfort lasted only a nanosecond. She quickly regained her pompom-girl poise. “Well, welcome back.” She glanced back at Hannah. “Were you all friends or something? Before he moved?”

  Josh nodded. “Or something.” Two cryptic words that sent a shiver up Hannah’s spine.

  “Welcome home,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Now that he wasn’t focused on Courtney, he was looking at her instead. Seeing every flaw no doubt. Realizing that while he had turned into a major hottie, she hadn’t. That knot re-formed in her stomach.

  “Thanks.” His gaze fell from hers, and he looked down at the book on his desk. “I guess wed better read this, huh?”

  “I’ll be Juliet,” Courtney said, regaining control of the conversation. “Hannah, you be…well, whoever else there is.” She was like a general directing her troops. “And Josh, of course, is Romeo.”

  Hannah had to admire how neatly Courtney arranged things so that she and Josh played the lovers and Hannah was left to be some kind of health-care worker.

  Only as she learned a few moments later, the Nurse wasn’t a health-care worker at all, but Juliet’s old nanny and the butt of all the jokes.

  Fitting.

  The seed of hope in her chest withered and died by the time they’d finished reading the scene. Nothing ever changed in Sweetgum. She was a fool to think it ever would, Josh Hargrove or not.

  Merry relished the peace in the middle of the school day when the older kids were out of the house, Jeff was still at work, and she was at home with the baby. Most mornings she spent a couple hours at Jeff’s office, helping out with secretarial duties while Hunter napped in his carrier. Jeff’s paralegal, Mitzi, had more than enough to do without answering the phone and filing, so Merry happily pitched in, especially since Jeff had been forced to file bankruptcy a few months before. He had done yeoman work, reorganizing the practice and getting it going again, and Merry’s involvement helped her feel like she was supporting her husband in a very material way. But by eleven o’clock or so, she and the baby headed home for some lunch and togetherness.

  Hunter was six months old now, the perfect age when it came to babies. He was well past the fussiness of a newborn but hadn’t yet started to crawl or be afraid of strangers. He had a sunny disposition and liked everyone, but most of all he adored Merry.

  “What should I have for lunch, Hunter? Hmm?” She perused the contents of the refrigerator while the baby babbled away from his bouncy seat in the middle of the kitchen floor. Every so often, Candy, the family mutt, wandered by and sniffed the baby’s ears. The dog’s obsession with Hunter’s ears was the source of much amusement in the McGavin household.

  Merry grabbed salad fixings from the fridge and piled them on the counter. She had just pulled out the cutting board and a knife when she heard the whir of the garage door.

  “Your daddy must have decided to come home for lunch,” she told Hunter. “I’d better double the salad.” She was busily chopping vegetables by the time Jeff entered the kitchen. “Hey, hon. I wasn’t expecting you.” She offered her cheek for him to kiss. He did so and patted her rear end affectionately for good measure.

  “I had something I wanted to talk to you about, and I thought this might be a good time, with the kids at school.”

  Their daughter Courtney had just started high school. Jake, their second child, was a fifth grader. And Sarah, who had been the baby until Hunter’s arrival, was a proud kindergarten student.

  “Sure.” She turned back to her chopping. “What’s up?”

  He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms, never a good sign in Merry’s experience.

  She laid down the knife. “Is it the practice still? I thought you were doing better.”

  Jeff frowned. “Well, yes and no.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’m pulling in more business, which is great. More billable hours means more income. But it also means more work.”

  Merry nodded, frowning as Jeff was. “I know. And you’re working so hard already.”

  Jeff uncrossed his arms and put his hands in his pockets. “Merry, it’s all-hands-on-deck time if the practice is going to be profitable again.”

  “I understand. I don’t mind you working late. I can handle the kids.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Oh?”

  “Merry, I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, but…I need you full time at the office.”

  A long pause ensued as she digested his words. “Full time?” Her fingers reached for the edge of the counter, grabbed hold.

  “A lot of the work I need help with right now is secretarial, and Mitzi could delegate some of the paralegal stuff to you with supervision. I guess what I’m saying is that I need you eight hours a day, not two or three.”

  “Why don’t you hire a full-time secretary?”

  He shook his head. “Too expensive. I hate to sound crass, but you’re the perfect solution because I don’t have to pay you a salary.”

  Merry released her grip on the edge of the counter. “What about Hunter?”

  Jeff’s shoulders slumped. “I know how much you’re enjoying your time with him.” He paused. “I called the day care at the church, and they have an opening in the baby room.”

  “Day care?” Merry felt tears spring to her eyes. “Oh, Jeff—”

  “Lots of kids go to day care. Just because none of ours have so far—”

  “But—”

  “Merry, you know I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She felt nauseated. And she couldn’t look down at Hunter or she would burst into tears for sure. “Jeff—”

  “There’s no other solution, Mer. Believe me, if there was, I’d have thought of it.”

  She knew he hadn’t been sleeping well lately but had figured it was the practice that kept him up.

  “I’ll work longer in the mornings. Hunter
will be fine with me. And he doesn’t bother Mitzi.”

  Jeff shook his head. “That’s not fair to Hunter, Merry. And the day care is excellent. You know that. He’ll be in good hands.”

  But he wouldn’t be in her hands. Merry looked at Jeff then Hunter, then at her husband once more. How could Jeff ask her to choose between them? But he wasn’t asking. He was practically ordering. Resentment welled up inside her.

  “You could have discussed this with me.” She picked up the knife and whacked at the lettuce on the cutting board. “I thought we were a team.”

  “We are.” He ran a hand over his face, rubbed his chin. “I promise you, Merry, if there was any other way—”

  His shoulders dropped even further, his head dipped low. The movement snapped her out of her self-pity. Jeff had always taken his responsibility for their family seriously. He wasn’t a man to make frivolous requests. The bankruptcy had taken a toll on his confidence, on his belief in himself as a provider.

  She scraped the lettuce off the cutting board into a waiting bowl. Tears stung her eyes. Jeff was right. She didn’t actually have a choice. They both had to do what was necessary to provide for their family. She reached for a tomato.

  “Just give me some time to get used to the idea.”

  Jeff’s head lifted, and his shoulders straightened just a notch. “You sure?”

  Merry smiled through the tears that formed in her eyes.

  “No.” She laughed in spite of herself. “But I know you wouldn’t ask for something that you didn’t truly need.”

  Jeff’s eyes were misty too. He reached for her, drew her close. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered in a choked voice.

  “No.” She kissed his cheek, his mouth. “Don’t you even start.”

  “It’s not forever.”

  Eugenie had asked them last Friday what love was, and Merry had said she found it overwhelming. But that was only part of the truth. Because for her, love meant setting her own wants and needs aside for the sake of her family’s welfare. Even when it caused her as much distress as leaving Hunter was going to do.

  “We’ll figure it out,” she assured Jeff. In the bouncy chair at their feet, Hunter gurgled happily and slapped at the toys suspended on a bar over his head. Merry looked down at him, an almost physical pain slicing through her.

  How in the world was she going to find the strength to leave her baby that first day? Or any day after, for that matter?

  She had no idea. She only knew that she didn’t really have a choice.

  “Hannah! Wait up.”

  Josh’s voice carried the length of the senior hallway. Hannah dropped her chin and shoulders and kept walking as if she hadn’t heard him, although Josh’s baritone might as well have been a bullhorn.

  “Hey.” A hand grabbed her sleeve and slowed her flight. “C’mon, Hannah Banana. I run enough wind sprints at practice.”

  She flinched at the old nickname but recovered by shaking his hand off her arm. “I’m late for class, Josh.”

  She’d managed to avoid him after honors English by bolting for the door the second the bell rang. She’d eaten lunch on the steps behind the school so she wouldn’t run into him in the cafeteria. But now, on the way to her last class of the day, her luck had run out.

  At her brusque reply, Josh’s fingers fell from her sleeve. She risked a glance at him and then wished she hadn’t. The confusion in his eyes made her chest ache. Better to amputate now, she reminded herself, curling her right hand into a fist. She’d heard the gossip in the girls’ rest room earlier, the information Kristen had held back in an attempt to humiliate Hannah.

  “From geek to god in just a few short years,” a freshman girl had said behind Hannah while she was washing her hands. “Evidently he was the star quarterback at his middle school in Birmingham. They say he may be the first freshman to start as quarterback here in, like… forever.”

  Hannah had dried her hands, thrown away the paper towel, and refused to cry. Josh would figure out the score soon enough, now that he was a jock. She should save herself the pain of having him be the one to pass her in the hallway without speaking.

  “If I’m tardy again, I get detention.” She stepped backward, trying to escape the compulsion to move closer to him. “Later.”

  “Hannah.” He caught up with her in two steps. His legs were a lot longer than they used to be. “Stop.”

  Several seniors looked their way. She couldn’t let him make a scene. Not here.

  “Okay, okay.” She turned to face him. “What do you want?”

  He frowned. “I thought I wanted to talk to my friend. What’s your problem?”

  She swallowed. How could Josh have possibly become a jock? But he was. And he was apparently determined to treat her as if he’d never left. As if they still caught crawdads together or traded licks of their Popsicles.

  She swallowed again. “I don’t have a problem.”

  His shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t realized how tense he was until that moment.

  “You do a pretty good impression of it.” He smiled. “So what’s up with Old Lady Budge, anyway? Is she always so harsh?”

  Hannah couldn’t help smiling. His dimples really were incredible.

  “At least we don’t have to finish that stupid play by tomorrow,” she said. “She’s being pretty generous giving us a whole week to read the book. I heard her class last year had to read 1984 in, like, three days.”

  He shifted his books from one arm to the other, and Hannah’s eyes were drawn to his arms. Muscles. Josh with muscles. The dimples might be cute, but muscles were—

  “What do you have last period?” he asked.

  “American history.” She nodded at the pile of books in her arms. Mr. Barnes, her teacher, believed in lots of supplemental reading. Lots and lots of supplemental reading.

  “Those look heavy. I’ll take ’em.” Josh reached out for her books and stacked them on top of his.

  Her knees quivered, and Hannah locked them with determination. “You don’t have to—” But he had already started off down the hall, and she had no choice but to follow him.

  “Am I going the right way?” He turned back to look at her. She hurried to catch up.

  “Um, yeah.” She could feel other kids looking at them and saw them start to whisper. By the end of the day, it would be all over school. The new jock had been spotted carrying loser Hannah Simmons’s books. “You really don’t need to do that, Josh. Besides, don’t you have CA this period?” All the jocks signed up for competitive athletics as the last class of the day so they could get an early start on their workouts or practices or whatever they called them. “The gym is the other direction.”

  He shrugged. “They won’t care if I’m a little late.”

  Hannah paled. Of course they wouldn’t. The other players, even the coaches, would bow down to a star athlete like Josh. If she’d had any doubt before about how far apart they were now, it was definitely, totally gone.

  “Josh, just give me my books back.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended.

  “Were you always so hard to be nice to?” He frowned and dumped her books back in her arms. “Here. Sorry for trying to help.”

  “Josh—” But it was too late. He was already moving away from her. Ten yards down the hall, he ran into some other football players headed toward the gym. They fell into step, and all Hannah could do was watch them walk away. Broad shoulders and confidence. Girls watching them as they passed.

  It was better this way, she told herself. Safer. She couldn’t afford to hope for what she couldn’t have. And that thought hurt more than the sight of Josh and his crew stopping at Courtney’s locker to flirt with her and her pompom girlfriends.

  Camille settled into a pew halfway back in the sanctuary of the Sweetgum Christian Church and set her faux Kate Spade handbag on the cushion next to her. She tugged the hem of her skirt. Somehow it felt wrong for her knees to show in church. Soft music emanated from the old pipe organ, and sh
e took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Maybe here, in a holy place, she could find the peace that had eluded her in the days since her mother’s death. And then she looked a few pews ahead and saw the most unexpected sight. A familiar dark head and a knee-weakening set of masculine shoulders covered by an expensive suit.

  The last place she had expected to see Dante Brown for the first time after all these years was in the sanctuary of Sweetgum Christian Church.

  Her first impulse was to flee, but Rev. Carson stepped into the pulpit for the morning announcements. Too late.

  “We especially want to welcome our visitors today,” the minister said, “so I invite our members to take a moment to greet one another and our guests.”

  As usual, this invitation was the congregations cue to stand up and mingle, saying hello to people they knew, as well as to anyone they didn’t. As in most congregations, some church members were better at this than others. Camille always tried to smile and be gracious, to introduce herself to anyone around her she didn’t know, but she had never been comfortable with this part of the service. Sometimes she lingered out in the vestibule until it was over so she wouldn’t have to participate. This morning, though, since she’d gone ahead and taken her seat, she was trapped.

  “Good morning, Camille.” Eleanor Krebbs, possibly the oldest living member of the church, clasped Camille’s hand in her gnarled one and gave her a pat. “You’ve been in my prayers. I know you’re missing your mother.”

  Tears stung Camille’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “Thank you, Mrs. Krebbs.” No wonder she’d dreaded coming to church. Other people’s sympathy was like salt in a fresh wound, dissolving any little progress Camille might have made toward healing. How long would it be before she could come to church without anyone looking at her with pity in their eyes?

  She shook several other people’s hands, endured their condolences, and kept her gaze carefully averted from the spot three rows in front of her where Dante was being fawned over like a conquering hero.

  Rev. Carson was calling them back to order when Dante turned and caught her looking at him. Her gaze locked with his, and she felt it once more—that undeniable mixture of fear and excitement and hope he always stirred in her. She couldn’t read his guarded expression, which only increased the unwanted tension that coursed through her. Should she smile? Nod in recognition? If only she could act casual, greet him briefly, and then forget about him. Preferably for the rest of her life.