The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love (35 page)

“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 doesn’t matter, it does. How people perceive me affects you and your work.”

“But—”

She held up one hand. “I made this choice because I want to, Paul. Not because of Hazel Emerson or anyone else.”

He paused, then took off his glasses, rose from his chair, and came toward her. With one hand, he reached out. She clasped his hand in hers, and he drew her to her feet, into his arms.

“I should have prepared you better, given you more of a chance to turn me down,” he said. “When you marry a minister, you’re taking on a lot more than just one man.”

Esther rested her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I’ve learned how true that is, thanks to Hazel.” She lowered her gaze and studied the buttons on his shirt for a long moment. “It’s been a long time, Paul, since I had much use for church. Or God. I’m a little rusty.”

“I think you bring a fresh perspective.”

She laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Eugenie, I don’t want you to think your actions are going to make or break what happens financially with the congregation.”

She shook her head. “I don’t. But it can only help, as far as I can tell.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Besides, if the ship is going down, my place is with the captain.”

“Thanks for that image.” Paul’s laugh always made her heart jump a little.

“Everything will be fine,” she reassured him.

“I know that. I’ve always known that. I just forget to believe it sometimes.”

Eugenie was glad Hannah was in her room. She was certain the teenager would have been horrified by the kiss that followed.

This time, when Merry pulled into the church parking lot on an early March morning, Jeff sat beside her in the passenger seat. Hunter babbled happily in the back, unaware of his mother’s turmoil.

After the last meeting of the Knit Lit Society, she’d done a lot of thinking—about what it meant to love Hunter, but also what it meant to love her family. And then they’d gone straight on to
Pride and Prejudice
, and now everywhere Merry turned, all she could see was how difficult it was to be a parent, to manage a family, to choose the needs of one child over the needs of the others.

Love was not always the clear-cut choice people wanted to believe. Or as Merry had believed, until those long days in the hospital when she’d felt a fierce desire to protect Hunter but also
longed for her other children. Somewhere in the days since the last Knit Lit Society meeting, Merry had accepted that she would never be the mother she’d thought she was supposed to be. She would have to compromise, over and over again.

And today that compromise meant taking Hunter back to day care and heading for Jeff’s office.

Her other realization had been that she shouldn’t have tried to shoulder this burden alone. Jeff worked hard, but so did she, and when it came to placing an infant in day care, it wasn’t the mother’s job to go it alone.

Jeff had balked the night before when she’d told him she expected him to come with her the next morning.

“I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, honey, and I don’t think it takes two grownups to carry one baby to day care.”

But Merry had been adamant. Jeff humphed and grumped about it until bedtime, then fussed a little more that morning, but he was here beside her.

And suddenly looking white as a sheet. She knew she should feel sorry for him, but his pallor made her feel a lot better.

“Maybe you’re right,” Jeff said when she pulled into a parking place.

Merry switched off the engine. “Right about what?”

“Maybe it’s better if Hunter doesn’t go to day care.”

Somehow she kept the corners of her mouth from tugging upward into a smile. “On a scale of one to ten, how nauseated are you?”

He turned toward her and grimaced. “There’s nothing higher than a ten?”

Like a lot of men, Jeff dealt with difficult emotions by pushing them to the side. Merry wasn’t trying to inflict additional pain or stress on him. She just needed him to understand why she’d been having such a hard time with the whole Hunter-in-day-care thing.

“I’m sure there’s something higher, but I try not to think about it,” she said. “Come on. It doesn’t get any better if we sit here waiting.”

“You sure?” He gave her a ghost of a smile.

“Believe me. I know that for a fact.”

Getting out of the car was both easier and more difficult than it had been the last time. Easier because Jeff was there. More difficult because she knew this time she was actually going to leave Hunter in the infant room with Sandra.

Merry took the diaper bag while Jeff wrestled Hunter’s car seat free. Together they turned and crossed the parking lot. They were ten feet from the door when Merry saw Eugenie approaching from the opposite direction.

“Good morning,” Eugenie called, smiling kindly.

For once, Merry didn’t have tears in her eyes when she spoke to the other woman. “Hello, Eugenie.”

“Big day today?” There was no censure in her expression. Just encouragement and maybe a bit of humor.

“Finally,” Merry answered. “It’s been a long time coming.”

Eugenie nodded toward the car seat in Jeff’s hand. “Hunter will do fine. And so will you.”

“I know.” When it came to children, there were no guarantees, no infallible choices or perfect scenarios. Life happened, even to your kids. The most frightening thing was accepting that. Ironically, it was also the most liberating.

Someday Hunter would grow up and leave her. As possessive as she felt toward her children, she’d come to realize that they weren’t really hers to keep. God had given them to her on loan, like the master in the parable who entrusted his treasure to his servants when he went on a journey. Parents had a choice. Merry had a choice. She could let her children breathe freely and thrive, or she could try to protect them so much that they suffocated. While the first one was more painful for her, it would be far more beneficial for her kids.

“We can do this,” she heard Jeff mutter under his breath as they walked down the hall toward Hunter’s classroom.

“Yes,” she reassured him. “We can.”

Sometimes letting go was the most loving thing to do. But it was also the hardest lesson Merry had ever learned in her life.

Camille and Maria met at Tallulah’s for an early lunch. Camille knew that Maria was curious why she’d invited her, but she hadn’t wanted to give any hint of what she had planned. Her decision was too new, too painful, but Maria could be trusted to keep Camille’s secret in confidence.

“Hey.” Camille greeted Maria, who had arrived first and already sat at a table by the large plate-glass windows at the front of the café. “Sorry I’m late. I had to get someone to cover the shop for me.”

Maria smiled in sympathy. “I was afraid I might not make it at all, but Stephanie put in a rare appearance.”

“I’m glad it worked out.” She slid into the chair opposite Maria. “I hope this doesn’t seem weird.”

“I have to admit I’m curious.”

Tallulah appeared, sliding menus in front of them and taking their drink orders. When she’d retreated, Camille proceeded straight to the matter that had troubled her so much over the last few weeks.

“I’ve made a decision,” she told Maria, “and, in a way, it involves you and your family.”

Maria arched an eyebrow in surprise. “That’s intriguing.”

Camille paused, unsure how to share what she wanted to say to the other woman. She didn’t want to hurt Maria’s pride or offend her. “I need to swear you to secrecy,” she said. “At least for a little while.”

“Are you sick?” Maria’s question was immediate and anxious.

“No, no. Nothing like that.”

Maria sank back in her chair, clearly relieved. “I was afraid that—”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s actually a good thing. For you, I mean.”

“Now I really am intrigued.”

“I was wondering—”

Tallulah interrupted her as she set their glasses of iced tea on the table. “What can I get for you ladies today?”

Maria ordered the meat loaf special. Camille opted for the diet plate.

“I feel like a glutton next to you,” Maria said, her words lighthearted.

“I’m still trying to make up for all those casseroles and brownies people dropped by after my mom’s funeral.”

Maria nodded. “It’s been a tough year, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. That’s why I thought of you.”

“Thought of me?”

“I’m going to leave Sweetgum.” There. She’d said it. Made it real.

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m not.”

Maria sank backward in her chair. “But what about—”

“Dante.” Camille felt the familiar wave of grief rise up within her. Would she ever come to a place in her life where loss didn’t threaten to overwhelm her on a regular basis? First her father, then her mother. Now Dante.

“I thought you two were—”

“I’m going to break it off.”

“Wow.”

“I’ve been accepted at Middle Tennessee State. I want to start as soon as possible. In the May summer session.”

“What about the dress shop?”

“I’m going to sell it.”

Maria frowned in confusion. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me and my family.”

Camille fought the knot in her stomach. “I need someone to live in my mom’s house. I’m not ready to sell it yet, and if I rent it, I won’t have any place to stay during semester breaks.”

“You’re going to live in the dorms?”