The Sweetgum Knit Lit Society (31 page)

“Okay.” The word came out slightly breathless, but between Jeff’s kiss and the baby taking up most of the room in her torso, she didn’t have a lot of oxygen at her command. “Now you need to get out of here so I can get to work.”

He patted her cheek.

“I’ll see you later on?”

“Hopefully by midafternoon. Definitely by suppertime.”

He winked at her. “I’d be home earlier, but I just acquired a new case, and I need to do a little research on family law and custody of surly, troubled teenagers.”

The smile that split her face was so broad it almost hurt.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Merry shut his office door behind her, called a cheery good-bye to Mitzi as she breezed through the front office, and headed for her minivan. She felt like Dorothy when she had learned, at long last, the true power of her ruby slippers. Like that fictional heroine, Merry realized with satisfaction that the power to go home again had been in her possession all along. She just had to figure out how to use it.

Eugenie did not make a habit of calling on single gentlemen in their homes. Not on a Saturday afternoon. Or any other day of the week, for that matter. But after Homer Flint’s latest phone call, she found she had little choice but to leave the library in the care of her part-time assistant in the middle of the Saturday rush and march straight to the parsonage.

When Paul answered her knock, he looked both surprised and pleased to see her. “Good afternoon, Eugenie.”

“It was you.”

“What was me?”

“You convinced Homer and his minions to give me a reprieve.”

Paul cast a glance over her shoulder up and down the block. “I think you’d better come inside.”

“Yes. I think I should.” She disliked the smile that teased his lips but chose to ignore it.

He motioned her through the foyer of the old Colonial-style house and into the living room. “I’d ask you to sit down, but as you can tell—”

There wasn’t a stick of furniture in the room. “There’s no need. This won’t take long.”

“Our parsonage in Nashville was much smaller.” He waved a hand to indicate the rest of the large home that had been purchased by the church in the town’s more prosperous days. “My furniture barely made a dent in all these rooms.”

“I didn’t come to discuss home décor, Paul.”

“No, I can see that.”

“You did it,” she repeated. “Don’t deny it.”

Paul looked bored with the conversation. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about, Eugenie.”

“What do you have on them anyway? It must be something spectacular. They were so dead set on Ed Cantrell’s niece.”

Paul twisted his mouth to keep from smiling. “Well, I did hear that she got a good job with the library system in Nashville.”

Eugenie looked at him through narrowed eyes. “That’s not easy considering that most systems are laying off people these days, not adding them.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He looked as innocent as an angel. “Someone who used to live there must have had some connections in the city government.”

“Paul!”

“Yes, Eugenie?”

Had he always been so infuriating? She didn’t remember that from their time together forty years ago. “How did you manage it?”

Paul let out a long breath and held up one hand. “Okay, okay. Yes, it was me. But I was only acting in the best interests of this community. Your services are still very much required at the Sweetgum Public Library.”

“I don’t like you interfering.”

“No, but I’m sure you like the result.”

Well, she couldn’t deny that. “That’s not the point.”

“Actually, it is.”

“What?”

“I want you to be happy, Eugenie. If that means your job in the library, then that’s what you should have.”

Her mouth fell open. It was entirely possible she stopped breathing. What on earth—“I don’t need your help.”

“It appears that you do, in fact. If I was the one responsible for Homer’s change of heart, would you want me to undo it? Answer me honestly.”

“No.” The word came out of her mouth on one long rush of air. “No, I wouldn’t want you to change it.”

He looked over his shoulder, and Eugenie could see the kitchen through the doorway beyond. “I’m afraid I’ve got a cake in the oven that I need to see about.”

She laughed. “A cake?”

Paul stiffened. “Is there a problem with a man baking a cake?”

“No. Of course not.” But her reassuring words couldn’t disguise the amusement in her tone.

“I think it’s a bad idea to laugh at a man who just got you your job back.”

“Ha! So you admit it.”

And then all the humor drained out of his face, and he looked every one of his sixty-something years. “Yes, I do, Eugenie. I admit to putting some pressure on the city council on your behalf. Now if there’s nothing else you need from me …” He nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. Eugenie felt as if the breath had been knocked from her body. He’d made the very admission she’d come here to demand, but instead of feeling vindicated, she felt bereft.

“Paul—”

“Let’s just let it be over, Eugenie.”

“But—”

“You’ve made your feelings clear.”

The floor seemed to move beneath her feet, her knees wavering until she thought her legs might give way. “I don’t think I have.” Heat suffused her cheeks.

“Excuse me?”

She stood up straighter. “I don’t think I have made my feelings clear.”

She’d had plenty of sleepless nights since that disastrous meal at Tallulah’s Café to think about what he’d said to her.

And in the privacy of her home and her heart, she’d admitted that he had been right. “You were right,” she said.

“About what?” He looked appropriately skeptical.

“All those years ago, I chose to trust my head and not my heart.”

“I’m glad you finally realized it.” He started to turn away. “If you don’t mind letting yourself out …”

“I love you.” Oh dear heavens, she’d actually said it out loud. Now instead of moving beneath her feet, she wished that the floor would open up and swallow her. She was far too old to be behaving this way. What on earth had possessed her to—?

“Eugenie.” He came toward her, scowling. Not a good sign. Her heartbeat was erratic enough to worry Frank Jackson’s cardiologist.

“Just let me finish,” she said in her best librarian’s voice.

“Yes ma’am.” He wasn’t smiling yet, but there was a hint of humor in his voice.

“I don’t really want to do this …”

“You do know how to make a man feel like a million bucks.”

She put a hand to her chest, hoping to impose some sort of control over her heart. But it was far too late for that, wasn’t it? She wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time.

“If you still want to try …” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“If I still want to try …?” Paul prompted.

“Then I’d be willing,” she said, the words tumbling over one another in her rush to get them out. She wished she’d never come.

“Okay.” Now he was smiling, but he was standing clear across the room. She wished he was closer.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, we can try.”

In her wildest dreams, which to be honest weren’t terribly racy, Eugenie never would’ve envisioned what happened next. And she certainly never would have expected to be kissed so thoroughly, not at her age, not by the man she’d loved and lost so long ago.

And certainly not in the empty living room of the parsonage owned by the Sweetgum Christian Church.

Everybody in town heard about the preacher and the librarian before she did, Hannah thought, as she paced back and forth in front of the public library. She always seemed to be the last to know anything. So when Miss Pierce had called the McGavinses’ house the night before and asked Hannah to stop by after school, she knew what was coming. The librarian had already dumped her on Camille St. Clair. What more could she want? Was she going to kick her out of the Knit Lit Society too?

Hannah was worried. She’d spent a lot of time, and most
of her available cash, knitting something for the librarian for
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
project. They were dust cloths. Or washcloths, she guessed, depending on what someone wanted to use them for. Hannah called them “Auntie Em’s Cleaning Cloths.” They weren’t fancy—just a seed stitch pattern that looked bumpy and worked well for picking up dust or scrubbing out a pot. Seed stitch took more concentration than anything else she’d tried so far because you had to alternate between knitting and purling. Plus, once you finished a row, then when you came back the other way, you had to knit the purl stitches and purl the knit stitches. Hannah had ripped out her first effort time and time again. But in the end it had been worth it. She couldn’t think of any better way to say thank you.

Still, Hannah was worried. Miss Pierce had spent a lot of time on the phone last night with Mrs. McGavin after she’d finished speaking with Hannah. Mrs. McGavin wouldn’t tell her what it had been about, and secrecy always worried Hannah. It never meant anything good.

While the two women were on the phone, Hannah had taught Courtney to knit. The whole evening had been weird but okay. She never would’ve imagined that in a million years—her teaching Courtney McGavin anything. They would never be best friends, but Hannah didn’t think she’d be getting any lunch trays flipped over on her anytime soon.
Might as well get it over with
, Hannah thought. She
stopped pacing and instead climbed the few steps to the library door before she slipped inside.

The librarian was behind the circulation desk as usual, scolding an older woman for allowing her dog to chew on the library books she’d checked out. “They’re not toys, Mrs. Brewster. They’re books.”

Hannah bit her lip so the lady wouldn’t see her smiling. It was nice to see someone else on the receiving end of the librarian’s bossiness for a change.

“Ah, Hannah. There you are.” She said good-bye to the trembling Mrs. Brewster and motioned for Hannah to come closer to the desk. “Thanks for coming by.”

“You said you had something to talk to me about?” She hated the way her stomach was tied up in knots. Had Dorothy felt this much trepidation when she’d come face to face with the Wicked Witch? Then again, Miss Pierce wasn’t a witch. Just a librarian. A few similarities sometimes, but no overall resemblance.

“I’ve been talking with Merry and her husband,” Miss Pierce said.

“So?” She refused to flinch. It was going to be bad news.

“Even though Jeff McGavin is going to be your legal guardian for a while, until your mom can be found, they can’t take you in to live with them right now.”

Hannah shrugged to hide the disappointment that crushed her chest. It was what she’d expected. Foster care
couldn’t be that much worse than dodging Gentry. At least she didn’t think so, although she’d certainly heard stories—

“So we’ve come up with another idea,” the librarian said. “I wanted to ask you about it and see what you think.”

“Like my opinion would really matter,” Hannah said, hoping she sounded angry and not hurt, like she felt. Of course the McGavins didn’t want to take in a loser like her. They had three perfect kids of their own and another on the way. And though Courtney had been a whole lot nicer to her lately, it’s not like she would want Hannah taking over half her room permanently. Even though Hannah was disappointed, she could understand that much.

“Of course your opinion matters,” the librarian said, frowning. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Hannah started to turn around and leave, but then stopped. Where would she go? She still had a key to her mom’s trailer, but the electricity and water had been turned off a few days ago, Mrs. McGavin had told her. And she couldn’t exactly go running to the McGavinses’ house when she’d just been told they didn’t want her there either.

“I have to get to work,” Hannah said without turning around to look at the librarian.

“I’m sure Camille can spare you for a few minutes. Do you want me to call over there and tell her you’ll be a little late on my account?”