The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love (5 page)

The road curved sharply to the left, and Esther’s foot pumped the brake. The piercing sun blurred her vision, and then a haze of brown and white streaked across the highway in front of her. She slammed on the brakes, her high heel catching beneath the pedal. The car skidded to the right, and Esther whipped the wheel in the same direction to correct her slide, but to no avail. She heard a sharp
thump
and then the car banged against the guardrail that separated the highway from Cooter Creek ten feet below. The Jaguar jerked to a stop, the engine and her own blood thrumming in her ears. Her breath came in short gasps. The seat belt pressed against her chest, pinning her in the car.

She had hit something living. She knew it instinctively.

With shaking hands, she struggled to unfasten the seat belt. After several tries, she managed to release the catch and untangle herself from the restraint. She opened the car door and pulled herself out.

She’d hit some sort of animal, of course. Not a skunk, or she would smell it. And the fast-moving blur had been too small for a deer. Esther moved around the front of the car and saw a mop of fur lying motionless on the asphalt.

A dog.

More tears stung Esther’s eyes. She knelt beside the animal and felt for a pulse at its neck. Did dogs even have a pulse there? A wave of nausea overcame her, for this was exactly how she’d knelt beside Frank when he’d collapsed that last fateful day.

“Come on,” she pleaded, not sure whom she was addressing—the good Lord in heaven or the limp form of the dog. And then she felt a small movement beneath her fingers. It wasn’t dead.

Relief washed over her but was quickly replaced by dread. What did she do now? She’d never owned a pet in her life. Her experience with animals was limited to shooing them away from her so they wouldn’t put a run in her stockings or get paw prints on her designer suits.

The dog whimpered, and instinctively she reached to rub the animal behind the ears. His fur was wet and matted, and when she ran a gentle hand down his side, she could feel his ribs. She needed to get him to the veterinarian, but how?

Esther could arrange a seating chart for the Centennial Society luncheon in under fifteen minutes. She knew how to pressure the local florist into letting her buy wholesale. And she could motivate a caterer to stretch food for fifty to accommodate
an extra ten people. But she didn’t know how to get this pitiful animal off the highway and into her car.

The sound of an approaching vehicle caught her attention, and she looked up to see a battered pickup truck slowing to a stop on the shoulder of the road. At that moment, she realized how vulnerable she was, kneeling in the highway by the dog, but the animal looked up at her with huge, sorrowful brown eyes, and she couldn’t bring herself to move to safety.

A tall, red-headed man, about ten years younger than Esther, emerged from the truck. His shirt was the same rusted gray as the pickup. “You all right?” he asked as he moved toward her. Then he saw the dog beside her. “Is he dead?”

Esther shook her head, beyond grateful that the man had stopped. He looked like a farmer. Surely he would know what to do about the dog.

“He’s alive, but he’s hurt. I need to get him to the vet.”

The man nodded. “I can help you get him into your car.”

Her heart sank. She had hoped the man would offer to take over and see about the dog. “Thank you. Although…” She fixed a troubled expression on her face. “I don’t really know anything about dogs.”

“Not much to know.”

He dropped to one knee and ran his hands over the animal, much as Esther had, but his motions were far more competent, experienced. He was oblivious to the damsel-in-distress signals she was sending out, but he was certainly solicitous of the dog.
She wasn’t as young as she used to be, but she was still the best-dressed, best-coiffed woman in Sweetgum.

He looked up at her. “He’s not in any immediate danger, but he needs his leg set. Just take him to Doc Everton’s. He’ll know what to do.”

“Oh. Of course.” She hid her dismay, and the man turned back to his truck. He returned with an old army blanket that had seen better days and spread it on the ground next to the dog. Esther stepped back to give him room to maneuver. He lifted the dog and smoothly settled him on the blanket. The animal whimpered but otherwise didn’t protest.

“You grab those two corners,” he instructed Esther. She started to object—surely he could lift the dog by himself—but his look silenced her. She took hold of the corners of the blanket nearest her while the man did the same on his end. “All right. Lift on the count of three.”

“Wait!” Esther glanced back at her car. “I need to open the door.” She darted across the asphalt and opened the passenger door of her Jaguar, thankful for the blanket to protect the leather interior. She returned to the dog and gripped the blanket. “Okay.”

Together, they maneuvered the dog around the front of her car. Trying to get the animal through the door, though, wasn’t as easy.

“Slide in there,” the man said to Esther, motioning to the space between the car frame and the open door. She did as he
instructed, and he moved in behind her so they were both wedged into the small space. The dog whimpered when they gently swung him onto the seat. For a long moment, Esther thought the man wasn’t going to let go of the blanket and step away. He was very tall, and he smelled like new-mown grass.

“There you go, pup.” He settled the end of the blanket over the dog before moving away. Esther let out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t used to being close to strange men. Or any man, for that matter. Even Frank had learned to keep his distance over the years.

“Thank you.” Esther suddenly felt awkward. The man stood on the shoulder of the highway, and his green eyes met her gaze.

“No problem. I’d go with you, but—” He paused to glance at his watch. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. Must be the day for emergencies.”

“If you’ll give me your card, I’ll return your blanket after—” She broke off. Given her recent run of luck, the dog would probably die, but she didn’t want to say it out loud.

“I don’t have a card.” A smile teased at the corners of his lips. “And I don’t need the blanket back. It’s not good for much anyway.” He paused and looked at her so closely it made her take a small step backward. “He’s going to be okay. Just get him to Doc Everton’s.”

“Oh. Well, thank you again. For your help.” Another step backward. He must not be from Sweetgum, because she’d never seen him before. She wanted to ask him his name, but something stopped her. “I’d better get to the vet.”

“Drive safely.” He lifted his hand, waved, and turned to jog back to his truck. He drove off in a spurt of gravel, clearly anxious to get to his unknown destination.

Esther watched him go with a mixture of trepidation and relief. And then a sound from the car, the dog’s soft cry, turned her attention back to the problem at hand. She shut the passenger door and crossed back in front of the car. Esther slid behind the wheel and, after a quick glance over her shoulder, made a U-turn so that she was headed in the direction of town.

Straight back into the muddle that was her life, only this time with a broken dog in tow.

Eugenie arrived earlier than usual for the Knit Lit Society’s first meeting of the year. Tonight brought a fresh start—a new reading list and new knitting projects.

Under normal circumstances, Eugenie would have looked forward to this meeting, but the last few months had brought anything but normal circumstances. Camille’s mother had died less than two weeks ago. Ruthie was off doing mission work in Africa, and in her place would be Maria Munden, whom all of them knew but none of them knew well. Esther’s recent bereavement was not quite as fresh as Camille’s, but no doubt just as painful. And now that Hannah, the youngest member of the group, lived with Eugenie and Paul as their foster daughter-well, Eugenie wasn’t sure how their new relationship might affect these meetings.

The biggest problem, though, was Eugenie’s trepidation about the reading list she’d chosen. She took the folder containing
the lists from her knitting bag. What had she been thinking? They were all going to laugh at her. Maybe not out loud or to her face, but her choices could be the buzz of the Sweetgum grapevine by this time tomorrow.

“Good evening, Eugenie.” Merry appeared in the doorway, baby carrier in tow. Her fourth child, Hunter, lay snuggled amid the padding and blankets, his head crooked at the impossible angle that only a baby can manage. “I can’t believe I’m the first one here.”

Since Merry was perpetually late, Eugenie couldn’t argue with her. “It’s good to see you. And this handsome boy.” Eugenie smiled, although she couldn’t help wishing Merry had left the baby at home. He was sure to be a significant distraction, even if he didn’t cry. Eugenie had enough trouble as it was keeping the women focused on the discussion.

Merry took a chair on the opposite side of the table from Eugenie and proceeded to settle in. Eugenie wondered if she should offer to help Merry juggle the diaper bag, knitting tote, and other assorted paraphernalia, but just as she was about to do so, two more figures appeared in the doorway.

Camille and Maria must have come up the stairs together. They were talking politely, but both showed the strain of grief. The lines around Camille’s mouth were pronounced for a twenty-four-year-old, and Maria had dark shadows beneath her eyes.

“Good evening, ladies.” Eugenie waved toward the other chairs. “Come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

Maria looked hesitant, but Camille led the way, and they sat
between Eugenie and Merry. A moment later, Hannah raced in, backpack flying. She dropped into the chair on the other side of Eugenie. “Sorry. I lost track of the time.”

Eugenie bit her lip. She’d never imagined becoming a foster mother at sixty-five, but Hannah had come into her life last year as unexpectedly as Paul had reappeared. Eugenie had forced Hannah into the Knit Lit Society as penance for some minor vandalism of a library book, but the girl had stayed of her own accord. And when Hannah’s mother took off and left the girl to fend for herself, Eugenie had taken her in.

“That’s fine,” Eugenie said. “We’re still waiting for Esther.” Hannah’s presence in her life had challenged Eugenie to learn to be more flexible. Some days she was more successful than others.

Eugenie introduced Maria to Merry and Hannah, although that was mostly a formality. Anyone who’d spent more than a few days in Sweetgum had been in Munden’s Five-and-Dime. In fact, Maria possibly knew more people in Sweetgum than Eugenie herself, because while not everyone read for pleasure or needed to use the Internet at the public library, every resident of Sweetgum stopped in Munden’s Five-and-Dime for chewing gum, copy paper, and greeting cards.

“Well, we should get started,” Eugenie said when she’d waited as long as she could for the still-absent Esther. Hiding her worry behind her usual formal manner, she opened a manila folder on the table in front of her and drew out some papers. “I wanted to keep this year’s reading list a surprise. Here it is.”

She tried to ignore the color that rose in her cheeks. The others passed the papers around the table while Eugenie watched their faces. Camille looked troubled, Maria looked surprised, Merry looked amused, and Hannah looked perplexed.

“As you can see, I’ve taken a different approach this year.” Eugenie took the extra sheets from Hannah as they completed their journey around the table. “Our theme for the year is ‘Great Love Stories in Literature.’” She couldn’t quite meet the other women’s eyes. “Instead of specific knitting projects, I thought we would focus on a different type of stitch to accompany each selection.” She paused, cleared her throat, and continued. “You may pick your own project for each book, but you need to use the assigned stitch. I thought this would be a creative challenge.”

Hannah snorted, which Eugenie had learned over the last few months was her way of downplaying the unexpected, so Eugenie didn’t take offense. Camille’s expression remained flat, but at least Maria looked intrigued.

Merry still looked amused. “It looks great, Eugenie.
Pride and Prejudice, Gone with the Wind.
These are some of my favorites.”