The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love

by Beth Pattillo

  She drove home in the darkness, acutely aware of how alone she was and deeply troubled by how much it bothered her.

  On the second Monday in November, Merry pulled her mini-van into a parking space at the back of the church.

  “Here we are, Hunter,” she said to the baby strapped into his seat in the rear. She kept her voice cheery, but her heart was as heavy as Hunter’s overstuffed diaper bag. She’d been able to postpone this day for a few weeks, but now the time had come. Merry climbed out of the van and opened the rear door. Hunter smiled up at her and waved his fists in the air before putting one in his mouth to chew on.

  “That tooth will be through soon,” she assured her son, knowing that her tone would soothe him even if he didn’t understand a word of what she said. She’d given him some baby pain reliever before they’d left the house because she didn’t want his first day at child care to be associated with teething discomfort.

  “Merry!” a voice called. She unbuckled Hunter and pulled him out of his seat before turning to see who it was. Thankfully, the woman coming toward her was friend and not foe. Merry wondered, though, what Eugenie was doing at the church at this hour of the morning.

  “Eugenie. How are you?”

  “Very well, thank you. Is this Hunters first day?” The other woman shot Merry an unexpected smile of understanding.

  “I think he’s excited. Or he will be. I’m the one who’s traumatized.”

  Eugenie nodded. “He’ll be fine. And you will be too. Just give it time.”

  Merry blinked back tears. “Thanks. I knew it would be difficult, but—”

  “You’d rather be boiled in oil?”

  “Yes.” Merry had to laugh a little at Eugenie’s words.

  “I’m sure your reluctance is normal. Keep that in mind.”

  Eugenie’s support meant the world to Merry. The two women walked into the church together through the preschool entrance. At this early hour, all of the children and parents were the full-day ones. Although Merry recognized a lot of them, it wasn’t her usual crowd.

  “I’m surprised to see you at the church this early,” Merry said.

  “A meeting of the altar flower committee.”

  Merry made a sympathetic noise. “Roped you into that, too, did they?” She’d been surprised by how quickly Eugenie had gotten involved in so many church activities. It was the last thing Merry would have expected of the reserved librarian.

  “Yes, well…” Eugenie shrugged. “I want to support Paul.”

  Merry opened her mouth to offer the older woman some advice, but just as quickly shut it again. Right now she was the last person in the world who needed to be giving out advice to people about how to manage their lives.

  “I hope it goes well.” Merry nodded toward the corridor that led off to the right. “We’re headed this way.”

  “I’m sure Hunter will be fine,” Eugenie repeated before lifting a hand in farewell and continuing on her way.

  Merry knew the way to the Mother’s Day Out baby room well enough since the space doubled as the church nursery on Sunday mornings. Sandra, the lead teacher, stood in the doorway watching for them.

  “I’ve been waiting for this little man.”

  Since Sandra also worked for the church as a nursery attendant on Sunday mornings, she was well known to both Merry and Hunter. That familiarity had been the saving grace in the situation. No spending the day wondering about the person caring for her baby.

  “Here we are.” Merry fought to keep the tremor out of her voice.

  “We’ve got everything ready for him.” Sandra led the way into the room. “Here’s his cubby.” She pointed to a row of cubed shelving on the wall. “And this will be his crib.” She gestured toward the one closest to the window. At least Hunter would have a view.

  “Great,” Merry answered, wishing she could mean it. The room was bright, cheery, and clean, with every toy Hunter could possibly need on the low shelves. Why didn’t that make her feel any better?

  “We take a walk in the stroller each morning,” Sandra said. “And we have time on the infant playground twice a day, weather permitting.”

  Merry thought of the cute double-decker strollers that allowed the caregivers to push four children at a time and the shaded play area designed especially for the littlest students. Clearly Hunter was going to be a busy boy. And most likely a perfectly happy one. The knowledge did nothing to alleviate the knot in her stomach.

  “Why don’t I take him,” Sandra suggested as she reached for Hunter, “and you can put his things in the cubby?”

  Merry recognized Sandra’s suggestion for the distraction ploy it was, but she agreed to it anyway. She let the other woman take Hunter from her arms and then turned away to hide the expression on her face. She busied herself stowing Hunter’s belongings.

  A few moments later, she had regained her composure and could turn back to the room. Her son sat happily on a large mat on the floor, Sandra at his side. Hunter picked up a plastic ring and flung it happily into the air.

  “Bye, honey.” Merry knelt down to kiss the top of his head. “Mommy’s got to go to work.”

  Hunter smiled at her and blew some spit bubbles, then turned his attention back to Sandra, who had retrieved the ring so he could throw it again.

  “Have a good day,” Sandra said from her position on the floor. “Hunter will be fine.”

  Why did everyone keep saying that?

  Because it’s true, a voice in Merry’s head said, and for the first time she felt like maybe day care wouldn’t be the nightmare she’d feared.

  “All right. I’m off.” She wiggled her fingers at Hunter, stood, and moved toward the door. She made herself walk through it, thinking that the first day hadn’t been as bad as she’d feared.

  At least not until she was three steps down the hallway and she heard her baby burst into tears.

  Don’t go back. Don’t go back. If she did, she might never be able to walk away again.

  Please, God. Give me the strength to do this. She sent up the silent, heartfelt prayer. And somehow, with help from a power greater than her own, her feet kept moving, all the way to the car. Only then did she let go and let the tears wash down her cheeks.

  Esther braved the crisp November morning to sit on the back veranda and drink her coffee. It was a ritual she’d followed for years, as sacred in some ways as church, and since Frank’s death she’d found herself clinging to the familiar more and more, even as she knew it to be slipping away. After hours of meetings and sifting through financial statements and visits from real estate agents and appraisers, she had submitted to the inevitable.

  Although November was the worst time possible to enter the real estate market, the For Sale sign would go up in the yard today. Soon her home would belong to someone else. She gripped her coffee cup more tightly. No point in giving in to the grief that squeezed her heart. Things were going to change. They had to change. Franks death had taken that choice out of her hands.

  The dog, which her grandson had named Ranger, had come outside with her and disappeared into the backyard. She glanced at her watch. It had been ten minutes since she’d seen or heard him. The mutt had fully recovered from his injuries and was now eating her out of house and home, not to mention still sleeping on the pillow next to her. If she were honest, Esther had done little to discipline the dog. It was easier to give in to his demands—feed him the extra treats, let him gnaw on her Cole Haan sandals. Residual guilt and the miasma of despair had done their damage on her once indomitable will. Now even a stray mutt could get the better of her.

  Wearily, Esther stood and went in search of the wayward animal—and found him around the corner of the house, digging up one of her prize rosebushes.

  “Ranger!” She raced forward, ignoring the hot coffee that sloshed over her hand. “Get out of there.” Her robe flapped behind her, her progress slowed by her slip-on house shoes.

  Ranger ignored her and kept his nose in the hole, the dirt flying
up behind him in an arc. When Esther reached him, she leaned down to grab his collar. He turned and growled at her, deep in his throat. She snatched her hand back.

  “Stop it.” She glanced around and spied the garden hose coiled on its rack on the side of the house. She reached over, yanked off a length of the hose, and turned on the spigot. Spray erupted, and she turned it on him.

  The dog leaped into the air with a yowl. He landed with a thump and then cowered, his head buried between his front paws.

  “That’s it. I’ve had it.” Her pulse pounded in her ears.

  She was fond of the dog—despite her best intentions, she’d let herself get attached. She could put up with him scratching his private parts and begging for food, and she could even deal with him relieving himself in the upstairs hallway. But her roses were her passion. This time, he’d gone too far.

  Esther grabbed Ranger by the collar and dragged him back to the house. He whimpered and cast longing looks toward the half-mutilated rosebush. She shoved him inside the back door and shut it firmly behind them.

  Since she had no idea where else to turn, Esther picked up the phone and made another appointment with Dr. Everton. Clearly it was time for some professional help, and the elderly vet would know what to do.

  Thirty minutes later, she was showered, dressed, and headed out the door. The fact that she’d hit Ranger with her car had done nothing to dim his enjoyment of hopping in the passenger seat and going for a spin. Esther rolled down the window so he could hang his head out. More than one bemused resident of Sweetgum stopped and swiveled to watch them go by, but Esther found she didn’t care about their curious stares. Ranger was having fun, and even though she was put out with him over the rosebushes, she shared his pleasure.

  Their mutual enjoyment didn’t last long, however. They arrived at their destination, and Esther had to square her shoulders and prepare to face facts. Ranger was out of control, and she needed help to regain the upper hand.

  The animal hospital occupied an old bungalow on Spring Street, a block or so north of the church. The former living room served as a reception area, with the bedrooms converted to treatment areas and the kitchen kept for the staff to use as a break room and general work area. Old Dr. Everton had let the place go in the last few years, so peeling paint and chipped linoleum were the order of the day.

  Fortunately, no one else was waiting. Esther breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure how a healthy, agitated Ranger would behave around other dogs. He’d already shown a lethal interest in the cat next door that liked to perch on top of the fence and tease him with her just-out-of-reach purring.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Jackson.” Pam, who did double duty as receptionist and veterinary assistant, greeted them with her usual cheer. She had a pleasant face and an easy smile. Esther knew the woman enough to say hello in the grocery store, but that was all. Now she found herself wanting to hurry around the desk, deposit Ranger in her lap, and beg for mercy.

  “Hello, Pam. Thank you for getting us in so quickly.”

  “It’s pretty quiet around here today.”

  On the counter next to her, a large fluffy cat had draped itself across the in box. From the back of the building, Esther could hear the barks and meows of animals being boarded. Pam’s definition of quiet, Esther decided, was a loose one.

  “I’m just at the end of my rope with him,” Esther confided, desperation driving her to lower her guard and admit that she didn’t have everything under control. “This morning he dug up one of my rosebushes.”

  Pam came around the desk and knelt beside Ranger. She rubbed him vigorously behind the ears, and in a split second the dog had flipped on his back and offered up his belly for Pam’s further ministrations.

  “Oh, you’re a pushover.” She rubbed his stomach vigorously and looked up at Esther. “Where does he sleep at night?”

  “In the kitchen,” Esther lied without batting an eyelash. There was no way she was going to confess that Ranger slept on Frank’s pillow. It was too… revealing. Like walking down Spring Street in her peignoir set.

  Pam straightened, leaving a disappointed-looking Ranger to roll off the floor and give himself a good shake. “Well, I’m sure the doc can help you. He’s good with animal behavior.”

  Esther nodded as she made a face. “I’m here to take my medicine.”

  Pam looked surprised, then chuckled. “You’ll certainly be his most interesting appointment of the day.” She nodded toward the chairs under the window. “Have a seat, and he’ll be with you in just a minute.”

  Esther disliked waiting, but she supposed she had no choice. Dr. Everton was the only veterinarian in town.

  As promised, her wait wasn’t lengthy. Ranger had stretched out on the linoleum and was snoozing contentedly when Pam’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Esther? You can take Ranger on back.”

  Esther tugged on the leash, but Ranger wouldn’t budge. “C’mon, dog.” She pulled harder, and the dog slid across the linoleum. Fine, Esther thought. Whatever works. She towed him, like a reindeer pulling Santa’s sleigh, past the reception desk and into the hallway.

  “First door on the left,” Pam called out after them, laughter in her voice.

  Esther marched determinedly toward her goal. Ranger began to resist, but his paws couldn’t gain any purchase on the slick floor. Triumphant, Esther pulled him around the corner and into the exam room. Only when Ranger slid to a stop at her feet did she hear the male laughter from a few feet away.

  “Beauty conquers the beast.” More laughter. “Hello, Esther.”

  Esther’s head shot up, and there, standing in the middle of the exam room, was Brody McCullough.

  “You!”

  “Me.” He wore wire-rimmed glasses, which he hadn’t had that day on the road. “You seem surprised.”

  “Where’s Dr. Everton?”

  “You haven’t heard?” His smile softened. “He retired two weeks ago. I bought his practice from him.” He paused, then chuckled. “I’ve been told the Sweetgum grapevine is usually pretty efficient.”

  “But you’re a…” Words failed her.

  “A veterinarian. Yep.”

  He wore a white coat over a professional shirt and tie. His khakis had probably seen better days, but they were neatly pressed. His lace-up shoes were designed for a man who spent most of the day on his feet. Esther certainly couldn’t fault his appearance.

  “What seems to be the problem today?” He lifted Ranger onto the small stainless steel top of the examining table. The dog, his nerves in high gear, was visibly shedding.

  Esther bit the inside of her cheek. As desperate as she’d been only an hour ago, she now found herself reluctant to lay out the facts.

  “That day, by the road, you didn’t tell me who you were.” She couldn’t keep the accusing tone from her voice.

  “I hadn’t taken over the practice then, and I knew Ranger wasn’t in serious danger.” He stopped, and a flush rose to his cheeks. That intrigued Esther. The good doctor—or veterinarian, as it were—wasn’t completely imperturbable. “I’m afraid I was in a bit of a hurry.” He stroked Ranger behind the ears. “I never would’ve sent you on your way if I thought this guy was in serious jeopardy.”

  “Oh.” Esther wondered what his hurry had been, then just as quickly reminded herself that the new veterinarian’s private life was none of her concern.

  “So what are his symptoms?” the vet tried again. The gold flecks in his red hair shimmered under the bright lights in the exam room.

  “He keeps digging up my flower beds,” Esther managed to say at last. “And he urinates in the house.” She held up a hand when the vet started to speak. “I take him out frequently during the day and at bedtime. It’s not like he doesn’t get the chance to do his…business in the yard.”

  Brody smothered a smile. “Well, he has been through a fair bit of trauma. He may need time to adjust. Those kinds of behaviors are usually triggered by anxiety.”

  �
��What in the world would he have to be anxious about?” Esther had been cooking chicken for his dinner, for heaven’s sake.

  “Do you allow him on the furniture?”

  Esther shook her head.

  “What about the bed?”

  She hesitated for just a split second too long before answering. Brody McCullough gave her a knowing look.

  “I couldn’t leave him in the kitchen all alone,” Esther protested. “He was miserable.”

  “Your mistake was letting him get the best of you.” Brody continued to rub Ranger behind the ears. “Dogs are pack animals. You have to show them that you’re in charge.”

  Esther fully grasped the irony of the vet’s admonishment. She, Esther Jackson, had been in charge of almost everything in Sweetgum for years. She couldn’t remember when she hadn’t chaired the spring social at the country club. The garden club had bowed to her will for decades. And even the women’s auxiliary at the church consulted her before making any important decisions. So why was she having such difficulty keeping one medium-size dog in check?

  “So what do I do now?” Even though the dratted animal had peed on her best oriental carpet and scratched up her kitchen cabinets demanding a treat, she wasn’t ready to part with him. Truth be told, he provided just the kind of companionship she enjoyed—constant, watchful, and unable to talk back.

  “I’d suggest you try some obedience classes.”

  “Obedience classes?”

  “There’s a man who lives outside of town who offers them on a regular basis. Pam told me about him. I can give you his card.”

  Esther had always achieved whatever goal she set for herself through sheer strength of will and determination. She couldn’t imagine she would need anyone’s help to resolve her issues with Ranger.

  “Maybe you could just recommend a book?” She was not averse to reading up on the subject. When she had a spare moment.

  The vet nodded, but the movement was reluctant. “I can, but I’d really advise you to sign up for the classes.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She had no intention of letting anyone else witness her inability to control Ranger. She reached over to reattach his leash.