The Sweetgum Knit Lit Society (26 page)

“A couple of weeks. They want to throw me a retirement party.”

“And you’d rather be boiled in oil.” He smiled a little, very softly, and the humor in his face eased the ache in her heart just a touch.

“Yes. Not to put too fine a point on it.”

And then he was reaching out to take her hand in his. She let him, watched him do it, and made no move to resist. Like those out-of-body experiences she’d read about in books, she observed the scene impartially. Or at least she did so for several long moments. And then the warmth of his hand, the pure sensation, burst through, shattering any pretense of detachment. Oh heavens, she’d missed that so. A simple touch. The most basic of gestures. How could she have forgotten how magnificent it felt?

“So they think Ed’s niece can do your job?”

“Apparently I could be replaced by any well-trained monkey.”

“Ouch.” This time his smile was conspiratorial. “I’ve experienced the same phenomenon. You’d be surprised how many people think a minister only works on Sunday. Church members are always saying, ‘I’d like a job where I get paid to work one day a week.’ If I had a quarter for every time I’d heard that one, well, let’s just say that my pension would be a lot fatter than it is.” Eugenie chuckled.

“There. That’s better.” With his other hand, he reached over and brushed her nose with one finger. “I’ve got a bone to pick with anyone who wipes that smile off your face.”

At his words, cold panic seized her. This was exactly why she never should have come here. She pulled her hand free from his. “I have to go.”

“Eugenie …” Exasperation and tenderness warred for the upper hand in his expression.

“I’m sorry.” She stood up too quickly, and blood rushed to her head. She reached back to grab the arm of the chair for support, but Paul was there first, his hands on her shoulders holding her upright and steady.

Eugenie hadn’t been this close to a man in a very long time. Longing seized her in its grip, like some pathetic heroine in a trite romance. Only what she felt wasn’t trite at all. It was amazing and terrifying and scared her to her very core.

“I think you’d better sit back down.”

“No. I’m all right. I just need to eat something.”

“Okay.”

“What?” She didn’t like the way he said that one word. It sounded both agreeable and full of portent.

“We’re going to get you something to eat.”

“I just need to get home—”

His hands cupped her shoulders, and his face was so close to hers. She remembered, through the fog that seemed to shroud her brain, how they had stood this close every night when he walked her to her door all those years ago. Her mother would be right inside, hand on the light switch, ready to flick the front porch light off and on if Paul got too fresh.

“I’m taking you to Tallulah’s.”

“She’s about to close.”

“I bet she’ll feed us if we go right now.”

Before she could muster a stronger protest, he had grabbed his coat from the rack behind the door and was ushering her into the outer office. He locked the door behind him, flicked off the lights as they went, and before Eugenie could extricate herself from the situation, they were out the door of the church and walking toward Paul’s sensible four-door sedan.

Eugenie had been right about Tallulah closing up the café. As they approached the front door, the owner was just about to flip the sign to Closed, but when she saw Paul and Eugenie, she motioned them inside.

“Come on, stragglers,” she said as they entered. “As long as you’ll settle for something easy. My cook’s gone home for the night, but I’ve got some soup left and I can make you”—she nodded at Paul—“a grilled cheese.”

Paul had certainly charmed his way into Tallulah’s heart in a short time. Eugenie tried to tamp down the feelings of jealousy that threatened to work their way to the surface. “Thanks, Tallulah. We appreciate it,” she said. And then she wanted to bite her tongue when she saw Tallulah’s face light up at her use of the word
we
.

“Pick any table you want,” Tallulah said with an expansive
grin that lit up her tired eyes. “I’ll have your food in a few minutes.” Then she turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving Eugenie alone with Paul.

“Here you go.” Paul pulled out a chair at a table for two and gestured for her to take a seat.

“Thank you.” She felt like a teenager on a first date, which was entirely ridiculous. She was far too mature and sensible to entertain, much less tolerate, the giddiness in her limbs and stomach.

“Eugenie—”

She held up a hand to forestall him. “I appreciate your listening ear, but I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ll work this out. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“I’m sure it will be. That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Oh.”

“It looks like you’ll be making a few changes in your life pretty soon,” he began, but his leading tone made her nervous. She glanced toward the kitchen, willing Tallulah to reappear, but force of will alone was clearly not enough to make her friend materialize at their table.

“Eugenie, I want to be a part of those changes.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. She flinched at the contact. As nice as it had felt in his office, now it overwhelmed her. She wasn’t used to being touched. He saw her response, but he didn’t let go.

“Paul, I—”

“Let me finish. I think I’ve made it pretty clear what my intentions are here. I never thought, after Helen died, that I’d want to share my life with anyone else again. I didn’t think I’d be capable of it.”

A part of her hated that he’d had such a happy marriage. She knew it was small and petty, but his years of fulfillment had come at a pretty dear price for her.

“It’s too late—,” she began, but he interrupted her.

“If I’ve learned anything in the last few years, it’s that it’s never too late.”

“I’m set in my ways, Paul—”

“Aren’t we all?”

“I’ve never learned how to share my life with anyone.”

“We’ll both have some learning to do.”

But her objections weren’t really the heart of the matter. Or they weren’t what troubled her heart so deeply. He might want to wave a magic wand and resurrect a love that was four decades old, but that love hadn’t been enough the first time around. What made him think it would be sufficient now?

“I don’t think—”

“Yes, you do.” He smiled, a dimpled grin that tugged at her heartstrings. “You think all the time. You think too much.”

His last words stung. Of course she analyzed everything. She’d had to be careful, a woman on her own all these years. Her brain was her only ally, and she’d cultivated it with every breath in her body, every fiber of her being, every—

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Now he looked contrite, which was just as appealing as his affable smile. “Forgive me.”

Forgive me
. Two words she’d waited years to hear. He said them now so easily, with such nonchalance.

“I can’t,” she whispered past the sudden constriction in her throat.

“What?” Confusion darkened his eyes. “I’m sorry, Eugenie, I was just being—”

“I can’t forgive you.” And then she saw the moment when he understood what she meant.

“Because I asked you to wait for me when I went to seminary?” He grimaced. “Eugenie, that was years ago.”

“Would you have come back?” The question had gnawed at her all this time, despite her every effort not to think of him.

Paul’s face was somber now, frown lines etching the corners of his mouth. “We’ll never know. Because you didn’t trust me enough to give me the chance.”

“Trust is a pretty easy proposition when it’s all on one side,” she pointed out.

“You don’t think I had to trust in you to leave you behind?” The first signs of anger—the clenching of his jaw, the way he released her hand so abruptly—told her his feelings on the matter weren’t any more dead and buried than hers had been.

“I think you were going to do what you wanted to do no matter what I said.”

“I would have waited for you,” he shot back.

“Would you?” Now it was her turn to pin him with her questions. “Then why didn’t you ask me to marry you and take me with you? If you’d been a hundred percent sure, you never would have gone to Memphis without me.”

His shoulders slumped. “I had nothing to offer you, Eugenie. And I wasn’t about to let you support me through seminary.”

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. Only years of bitterness and rancor that she thought she’d shed long ago. Now they resurfaced in her voice, weighing down her limbs, sharpening her tongue to a razor’s edge.

“You wanted to be the one to make the decision.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she hated the little sobbing sound that accompanied it. She would not show weakness now. She simply refused to do it. “The irony is, if you’d asked me to go, I would have turned you down. I would have waited for you to finish school if I’d been sure of you.” She paused to breathe, to remind herself of the necessity. “I understood you completely. You, on the other hand, had no clue about me.”

“I was supposed to read your mind?” His eyes clouded with emotion. “Or pass some sort of secret test? Every day was a struggle to win your heart all over again. You were a moving target from the moment I met you. I’m just a man, Eugenie. A broken, flawed man who loved you. Or tried to anyway. You made it so difficult. You made it so d—” He broke off.

She didn’t want to let his words hurt her, but even her
iron will couldn’t deflect the pain. “In my experience, people always do exactly what they want to do in the end.”

“I came back, you know.” He was gripping the edge of the table with both hands now.

“What do you mean?”

“Two months into my first semester. I came back to town looking for you, and no one knew where you had gone.”

Funny how suffering that was so old could find a fresh expression on his face. Eugenie winced. “Nowadays I would have just Googled you and found you in an instant. But back then …” He broke off. “And then my pride took over. I admit that. I was too young to know any better.”

She wouldn’t let him off with such a weak excuse. “I was young too, and I knew the score.”

“The only score was the one you kept.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He sank back in his chair, defeated. “You were always sizing me up, judging me, testing me, only I never knew what subject matter you were going to cover on any given day.” He paused, took off his glasses, and folded them neatly. Then he slipped them into his shirt pocket. He took her hands in his, and though she tried to jerk them away, he held them firmly. “You never surrendered, Eugenie. To your feelings for me, I mean. They were there, but you couldn’t trust them. Maybe that’s why I didn’t ask you to go with me.”

“You proved me right, Paul. I wasn’t going to sit and wait
to be abandoned. I found a new life here in Sweetgum. I have friends. And I have the library. It’s been my life. My one true love.”

He squeezed her hands. “An institution can’t love you back, Eugenie.”

“Neither could you, apparently.”

He was quiet for a long moment. The cold air seeped into her bones despite her thick cardigan. Where was Tallulah with that soup?

“Love and control are two different things.” Paul’s gaze held hers, and as much as Eugenie wanted to look away, she couldn’t. “I don’t think you’ve ever learned the difference.”

“That’s a typical response from a man. If a woman wants commitment or security, she’s being controlling. Well, the Sweetgum Public Library may not have loved me back, but its patrons have. We’ve had a long and healthy relationship.”

“But now they’re done with you, and where are all those patrons? Do you think there will be a rally to save your job?”

She would not cry. No matter what he said. If she did, she would only prove his point.

“I wasn’t the only one who thought an institution was more important than people. You left me for the church.”

“I left you to go to school. And I told you I was coming back. But you didn’t trust me.”

“You didn’t give me a reason to.”

He sighed, rubbed his eyes. “The thing about people,
Eugenie, is that they’re not books. They’re living, breathing beings who make mistakes.”

The first tears threatened to overwhelm her control. “I have to go.” She searched blindly for her purse at her feet.

“Eugenie.” He reached for her arm, laid his hand there, curled his fingers around her wrist. “Don’t run away. Please. Not this time.”

“I was never the one who ran away.” She had to harden her heart—right here, right now—if she was going to survive this. If there was a God, He had a very cruel sense of humor. To taunt her like this with Paul, after all these years, after all the work she’d done to forget him. Her mother hadn’t helped—she’d been under strict orders not to reveal Eugenie’s whereabouts, but she continued to send clippings from the Columbia paper about his ordination and eventual marriage. Eugenie had known exactly what she was missing but had convinced herself it was never what she wanted. Eugenie Pierce as a pastor’s wife—it never would have worked.

She rose from her chair and he did the same, but he kept his grip on her arm. Why did he have to look at her like that, with warmth and sadness and something else she couldn’t name in his eyes? It was that indefinable something that scared her the most.