Read Online The Sweetgum Knit Lit Society by Beth Pattillo - Free Book Online Page A

I?”
    Eugenie had never panicked in her life, but at that moment, with her heart in her throat, anxiety gave wings to her feet.
    “I’m sorry. I have to go.” She swept up her knitting bag, wrestling the wooden legs together as she moved past him, desperate to hide the tears stinging her eyes. It was only because she hadn’t been prepared. Only because she hadn’t known she would see him. Hadn’t known to expect him. Who could possibly have expected to find him framed in the doorway of the Pairs and Spares Sunday school class?
    “Well, good night then,” he called after her, bemusement in his voice.
    Thank heavens he didn’t follow her. As she clambered down the stairs, she could hear him shutting the door to the classroom, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the hallway upstairs go dark. He must have flipped off the lights.
    Running away like this would only make it worse. That thought rattled around in her head until her temples throbbed. He would find out who she was sooner or later if he became the pastor. In a town the size of Sweetgum, you couldn’t avoid anyone—friend or foe—for very long. But even that thought failed to slow her steps. She would face down her demons later.
    After she’d had a chance to think. After she’d had a chance to rid herself of these unwanted emotions.
    After she figured out why the only man she’d ever loved had to come back into her life when it was far, far too late.

    Hannah kicked at the rocks along the side of the road, not an easy feat given the darkness of the October night. She wouldn’t have accepted a ride home from Courtney McGavin’s mom even if the woman had thought to offer. Not in her stupid minivan. Not to get a lecture about whatever moms like that lectured about. It was easier if your mom just hit you instead of giving off that disappointment and disapproval vibe.
    Heroines. What a joke. These people had no idea what real life was like, tucked up in their Sunday school room in their nice little church. And then on top of everything Courtney’s mom had criticized her knitting. Well, not criticized exactly. Hannah had to be fair about that. But Courtney’s mom had made her feel like she’d done it all wrong.
    Hannah was tired of feeling like everything she did was wrong.
    She could see the lights of her mom’s trailer ahead in the distance, but she couldn’t tell if Gentry’s truck was there. The darkness would hide her until she could get close enough to see. And if the truck was there, then she’d decide whether she could risk sneaking inside to her bedroom, where she could lock the door behind her. Not that a flimsy doorknob lock would stop a pig like Gentry, but it was better than nothing, and Hannah was tired of sleeping outside half the time.
    A hundred yards farther down the road, she breathed asigh of relief. No truck. She paused beside the front porch—a jumble of redwood decking that sagged dangerously—and stored her plastic bag of knitting in its hiding place. She kept the new book the librarian had given her pressed tightly under her arm, not wanting her mother to see the title if she was still awake. If her mom caught her reading
A Little Princess
, she’d never hear the end of it.
    Who do think you are? The princess of the trailer park?
That was her mother’s favorite question after she’d had a few beers. No need to add fuel to that fire by letting her see the book.
    Hannah had lots of practice opening the screen door without letting it squeak. The trick was to move slowly, not to rush. The flimsy wooden door behind it opened noiselessly, and Hannah shut both doors in turn with a soft
click
.
    “Where the hell have you been?”
    She jumped about a mile. “Jeez, Mom, you scared me.” Her mother was sprawled on their Salvation Army couch smoking a cigarette. On the orange crate–turned–end table beside her, the ashtray overflowed with butts.
    “It’s after nine o’clock. You’re grounded.”
    Hannah forced herself not