The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love (37 page)

“But why me?” His words set loose that traitor hope in her heart. “Of all the women you must know, why in the world would you want to be with me?”

James looked down at the knitting basket at his feet. He leaned over and retrieved her book. “How did Darcy know Elizabeth was the one for him?”

“This,” she said, waving a hand between them, “is hardly a Jane Austen novel.”

“Why not?” He moved toward her again, but she was almost to the end of the counter. Plus she hated to keep giving ground. “How are we so different from them?”

Maria bit her lip. She could definitely see him as Mr. Darcy. But her as Elizabeth Bennett? She almost laughed. For one thing, she was way too old. And for another…

The almost-laugh died on her lips. She was a spinster, like Austen’s main character. She was poor. She had an obnoxious mother and two of the requisite four sisters. Maria put a hand to her mouth, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

“Weird, isn’t it?” James said. He, too, looked as if he didn’t know whether to be amused or worried.

“I never thought—”

“I guess there’s a reason people still read her books.” He shook his head. “Darcy was a fool for most of that novel, but maybe I can learn from his mistakes.”

“I can’t believe you’ve read it.”

He stopped, his cheeks pale. “My sister asked me to a couple years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” She reached out and put her hand on his arm. Beneath her fingers, the wool of his expensive suit was as soft as the cashmere she’d been using to make the socks.

His free hand covered hers. “I’m not usually so incompetent when I try to tell a woman I like her.”

“And I’m usually much more receptive to compliments.”

“I’d say we’ve both behaved less than heroically.”

Maria nodded. “Yes. I’d agree.”

“Do you want to change that?” His eyes filled with a kind of earnest enthusiasm she’d never seen before.

It took her a moment to find her voice. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

Fortunately, it was a slow day at Munden’s Five-and-Dime, so when James Delevan took Maria Munden into his arms and kissed her quite thoroughly, no customers stood in the aisles to be outraged by the shocking display.

Hannah hadn’t ditched class at all as a freshman, although it had been a regular habit in middle school. That morning, though, she just couldn’t bring herself to face it.

Posters for the freshman spring dance had gone up the Friday before, bright pink and purple reminders of how alone she was. Josh no longer even tried to speak to her in the hallway. She told herself that was what she wanted, that it was the only way to get over him. She just didn’t know why it still hurt as much as it had that day by the creek, when he’d told her he was taking Courtney to the winter formal. She had no doubt he’d already asked Courtney to go with him to the spring one too.

Instead of crossing the street east toward the high school, Hannah headed north, ducking behind cars and trees so that Rev. Carson and Eugenie wouldn’t see her. A block over, she reached the edge of the trees that bordered Sweetgum Creek. A
few steps down the steep bank and she stood at the edge of the water and out of sight from the street above.

Ten minutes of walking and she reached the wide sand where the creek narrowed. Without the coming spring rains, the water merely trickled beneath the bare branches that arched above it. Dry winter grass on the bank above rustled in the swirling breeze.

Hannah zipped her coat up to her chin and thrust her hands in her pockets. When she’d decided to play hooky she hadn’t considered the weather. A long, cold day stretched before her. When she lived in the trailer with her mom, she’d just stayed at home and watched television when she ditched school. She couldn’t do that at the parsonage. Too many neighbors, and Rev. Carson had a habit of stopping by the house to get some lunch or fetch a book he’d meant to take to the church with him.

Hannah sank down onto the sand. A moment too late she realized it was damp beneath the top layer. The cold seeped through her jeans in an instant. She tugged the tail of her coat lower and tried to sit on it.

This place held a lot of memories, but the last terrible one overwhelmed the good ones. Josh, the one person she’d thought she could trust, breaking her heart. It just proved she should never let anyone get close, because it was only a matter of time until they betrayed her.

With a sigh, Hannah reached into her backpack and pulled out her latest knitting project. She could work on it until her
fingers got too stiff from the cold. Then she could read some. She’d just gotten to the part where Lydia Bennett runs off with the scoundrel Wickham, ruining Elizabeth’s chances with Darcy.

Hannah could identify with Elizabeth Bennett on that score. She knew what it was like to have her own chance for happiness squashed like a bug beneath the shoe of other people’s bad behavior. That last thought caused a sob to rise in her throat. She let it escape, wiping at the splash of tears on her cheeks with the back of one hand. She was so tired. Not trusting anyone was exhausting. Always keeping her guard up, never a moment to relax.

She picked up her needles and opened the book she was using for the knitting project. The diagrams for the moss stitch baffled her, but she was determined. She concentrated so hard on the movement of her needles that she didn’t hear Josh until he plopped down next to her in the wet sand.

“Hey”

Her head snapped up, and she dropped her knitting. “What the—”

“It’s just me.”

Hannah scowled. “You really can’t take a hint, can you?”

“No. Not really.” He grinned.

If he had apologized again, continued to grovel, she could have kept up her defenses. But that lopsided smile pierced her where she was weakest, right in the vicinity of her heart.

“Won’t you get suspended from the team or something for cutting class?”

Josh leaned back in the sand on his elbows, his long legs stretched in front of him. “What are they going to do to me? I’m moving in a few weeks.”

“Good point.” She had to be cool, not let him see how much he got to her. She picked up her knitting and dusted the sand off of it.

“What are you making?”

“A sweater.” At least, it would be a sweater someday. No way could she finish it by the Knit Lit Society meeting next week.

“My mom made me a sweater like that once. It has those bumps in it,” he said, examining the soft green wool.

“It’s called a moss stitch.”

“Didn’t know that.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know, apparently.” The sarcasm slipped out against her better judgment.

“You know, I’d think that living with a preacher you would have learned to be a little more forgiving.”

“I’m forgiving. I’m just not stupid.”

“Touché.” He looked up at the branches above them and didn’t say anything else.

“What would you have done if you were in my shoes?” Hannah asked when Josh remained silent. “I don’t know anyone who gets all warm and fuzzy about being humiliated.”

Josh rolled to his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “I’ve already told you I’m sorry. I was stupid and wrong and idiotic and everything else you can think of. I messed up, Hannah.
Now I’m asking for forgiveness.” He softly touched the back of her hand with the tips of his fingers. “I’m asking if we can start over.”

She refused to flinch at his touch or let him see that it in any way affected her. “Why bother? You’ll be gone soon.” The moment she said it, she realized she’d betrayed herself

Josh raised one eyebrow. “So you might forgive me? If I can convince you it’s worth it for the next month?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But that’s what you implied.”

“Josh—” She sighed, then looked him square in the eye. “How could I believe anything you say?”

“You’d have to make the choice to trust me again.” He wasn’t smiling now. His eyes pleaded with her.

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem. I don’t trust you anymore. No, it’s more than that. You took away any reason I had to trust you in the first place. It’s gone, Josh, and trust isn’t something you just whip up out of thin air.”

“Actually, it is.” He levered himself into a sitting position. “That’s all it is, really. If you think about it, none of us has any reason to trust anyone else.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course you’d say something like that. You’re the one who screwed up.”

“I may be a partial idiot but not a total one. I have been known to learn from my mistakes.”

“And I’ve been known to be humiliated by them.”

“All right, then think of it this way. If you go to the spring formal with me, you’ll have the best revenge of all.”

“What?” The knitting needles in her hands jerked so that several stitches slid off the end of one of them. “Not funny, Josh.” She scrambled to get the stitches back on the needle.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. I want you to go to the dance with me.” He reached into his back pocket and wiggled something free. “Here.” He thrust two pieces of pink paper toward her.

“So you bought tickets. What does that prove?”

“Look at the names on them.”

Reluctantly, Hannah did. She saw Josh’s name on one. And hers on the other.

“Josh—”

“We don’t have a lot of time, Hannah. Every minute you won’t forgive me is a minute we lose.”

“But you’re leaving. There’s no point.”

“Just because you can’t have everything, you don’t want anything?”

“Josh—”

He reached over and gently lifted the knitting needles from her grasp. He set them aside, and took her hands in his. “Please, Hannah. I really need you to forgive me.” His eyes sparkled with moisture. No macho football player. Just her friend Josh. “I need something to hang on to when I go back to Alabama.” He shook his head. “I know I don’t deserve it, but none of us deserves to be forgiven. That’s what they always say in church.”

“I don’t know—”

He kissed her then, simply leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers as he had that night after the football game. Unexpected, warm, and everything she missed, everything she needed.

“Please, Hannah,” he murmured against her lips, and she couldn’t hold out against him any longer.

“If you hurt me again”—she pounded his chest with her fist for emphasis—“I will hunt you down like a dog. Do you hear me?”

His hand reached up to grab hers. “You won’t have to. I promise.”

Hannah still didn’t know if she could trust him. She only knew she couldn’t
not
trust him. To banish him from her heart forever would hurt far more than his betrayal had.

“I don’t have a dress,” she said.

“What?”

“I don’t have a dress for the dance.”

Josh chuckled. “I bet Camille St. Clair would hook you up. If she doesn’t, we’ll skip the dance and just hang out together.”

“Okay.”

He slid an arm around her, and she tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder. “Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“Do we have to go back to school?”

He nodded. “If we get suspended, we can’t go to the dance.”

She lifted her head. “How did you know I was here?”

Josh squeezed her shoulders. “I didn’t. I just needed someplace to think. It never occurred to me to go anywhere else.”

At that moment, Hannah knew everything would be okay. At least until spring break.