The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love (7 page)

Why was he back? Hannah hugged her binder and math book to shield herself from the seed of hope that took root in her chest. She turned right into the senior hall, careful to avoid the mustang logo in the middle of the tile floor. In the first few weeks of school, more than one freshman had made the mistake of stepping on the school mascot. She shouldn’t even have classes here, but Eugenie had stuck her nose in Hannah’s business and gotten her moved into honors English. While the rest of her classmates would breeze by with ditzy Mrs. Carlisle, she would be working her tail off under the evil eye of Ophelia Budge.

All the way down senior hall, Hannah tried to keep herself from pinning any hopes on Josh Hargrove’s return. She hadn’t had a real friend since he’d left. Just losers like Kristen.

The bell rang as Hannah slid through the classroom door. She made a dive for the nearest seat before Mrs. Budge could count her tardy. She liked to sit near the door anyway. She’d learned early in life that it was always good to have a handy escape route.

“Quiet, please.” Mrs. Budge’s booming voice rang out. Hannah slumped in her seat and let her hair fall forward to cover her face.

Mrs. Budge picked up a stack of small paperback books from her desk and moved down the aisles, dropping one in front of each student. They landed with a plop. The students groaned
when they saw the title, except for Sissy Darlington, the class brain. She let out a long sigh of contentment.

Hannah refused to show any visible sign of interest. Instead, she studied the head of the guy sitting in front of her and wondered why she hadn’t noticed him in class before. His sandy hair curled in a messy-but-cute way, and his shoulders were seriously wide. She hadn’t been paying attention when she dove for her desk, and now she wished she had. The guy must be new, because even though she could only see the back of his head, she should be able to recognize him. Sweetgum High School didn’t have that many freshmen.

And then the realization hit her, just at the moment when Mrs. Budge dropped the book on the desk in front of her.

Romeo and Juliet.

Josh Hargrove.

The two facts exploded in her brain simultaneously.

Apparently God had taken notice of her behavior last year before she’d quit hanging out at the cemetery with Kristen and her slacker friends. Apparently God hadn’t forgotten, because He was punishing her.

“William Shakespeare.” Mrs. Budge pronounced the name with reverence.

She droned on about his major contributions to the English language, but Hannah tuned her out as she clutched the book and willed Josh Hargrove to keep facing the front of the room. To his right, Courtney McGavin, in her freshman pompom-girl
sweater and short skirt, shot him little flirty smiles, but Josh was oblivious. Good. That was a good sign, Hannah told herself. If he could ignore a bombshell like Courtney, his intelligence must not have evaporated the moment his mother drove him over the state line to Alabama.

But if he was in freshman honors English, he couldn’t be a complete idiot. Or lacking in memory.

“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?