Patterns of Swallows (38 page)

"I
think it was remorse, you know. I mean, that drove him to it in the
end." Lily's voice sounded defiant. Doubtless, imparting this
piece of information was, for her, an act of penance and contrition.
Ruth told herself it was the discomfort of such a novel experience
that made Lily defiant.

"You
think so?" Ruth said. She couldn't stop herself from grasping
at the revelation eagerly. Had Graham cared, then? In the end, he'd
cared? About her? Enough to feel remorse? It shouldn't matter to
her. It was too late to matter in reality. But she couldn't help it
mattering to her.

"Towards
the end, sometimes he'd say things like, 'I could never go back.
It's too late. We're stuck here,' and things like that. He wouldn't
come right out and say it, but obviously he thought about coming
back. He just thought you'd never take him back."

Ruth
turned the information over in her mind, savouring, like a delicate
morsel rolled around in the mouth to extract the full flavour.

"What
would you say when he'd say things like that?" Ruth asked
hesitantly. Did she even want to know?

"I
dunno. I guess I more 'r less told him he was right, that there was
no going back for either of us. We were stuck together, no matter
how miserable we made each other, and we made each other plenty
miserable, believe me. You wouldn't've wanted 'im back when it came
right down to it."

"Is
that really what you believed?" Ruth said quietly.

"I
dunno," Lily said in a tone of finality that indicated that
painful confessions were at an end and the subject was now closed.

Ruth
said good night in the same quiet tone and left the room as softly as
she could. The outward calm masked her inner tempest. She knew she
was in for another sleepless night and another fierce battle against
an anger that could easily turn into hatred which would consume her
if she gave in to it.

*
* *

After
the completion of her first week as an apple-picker, Ruth received
another job offer.

It
was nearing the end of her working day, and she was picking the
apples around the bottom of a tree, so deeply enmeshed in memories
that she was unaware there was another living soul in all the world.

Full
voice, she sang, "My love is like a red, red rose ..." It
had been Mother's favourite song. Every time she wanted to bring her
mother back to life in her mind, she sang the old air.

Ruth
always claimed to have no artistic talent, but that wasn't strictly
true. Her untrained voice in song was as natural, pure, and clear as
a mountain morning in spring. It was her one artistic gift, but she
used it seldom and never for an audience.

Then
she noticed Bo, three trees away, transfixed, gazing off into the
distance. Her voice and the song belonged to long ago days and misty
isles. Depending on the listener's temperament, her singing could
transport the listener to those far-off days and places. It
transported her there, and she had seen it in Bo's look. He was
carried off as well.

She
stopped singing, embarrassed.

Bo
also looked a little shamefaced when he saw her looking at him.

Now
the magic was undone, she thought. Now that he'd realized the singer
was only plain old Ruth MacKellum who he'd known since childhood, the
spell was broken. The abrupt ending to the song dropped them with a
thump back into their present century and location.

"Hello,
Ruth. I didn't realize you were such a meadowlark. Don't stop.
That was beautiful. I didn't know you sang," he said in his
everyday voice.

"I
don't. Not often, anyways."

"Well,
you should. You should sing often. And let people hear you without
having to eavesdrop like I did. Anyways, I came to ask you if this
is your third or fourth bin today. There's a dispute about whose the
bin is on the end of the row."

"It's
mine," she said. "This is my fourth bin."

"Very
good. You're keeping up to our fastest pickers."

"I
should hope so."

Bo
laughed at her lack of false modesty, scribbled something into his
notebook, and kept moving.

He
was back in a minute after Ruth had climbed to the top of her ladder.

"You've
done secretarial work, haven't you?" Bo called up to her,
startling her so that she jerked and almost fell off the ladder.

"Sorry!
Didn't mean to scare you. I thought you heard me coming back.
There was something I forgot to ask you when I was here a second
ago."

"That's
not nice," she scolded. "Sneaking up on me like that. I'm
in a world of my own once I get up into the tops of these trees.
What did you ask me?"

"I
said, 'You've done secretarial work, haven't you?' "

"You
came back to ask me if I'd done secretarial work? Are you asking out
of curiosity?"

"Why
don't you come down here where I can talk to you properly?"

"Two
seconds. I have two more apples to get. There. Okay, here I am.
Yes, to answer your strange question, I have a little secretarial
experience. I took a course in Camille and worked in the offices of
both sawmills briefly. Why are you asking about my secretarial
experience? What does that have to do with my apple-picking
ability?"

"Nothing
to do with your apple-picking ability but something to do with
another job possibility I may have for you. Do you know anything
about bookkeeping?"

"A
little. They touched on it in the course I took."

"That
means you know more than I do. As manager of the apple packing shed,
I've been doing the books. Eddie's cutting back. He can't afford to
hire a full-time bookkeeper as well as me, so I've been serving
double duty. Problem is, I don't know what I'm doing. I've got
Eddie's okay to hire a temp bookkeeper to train me at it, and I
thought of you, if you're interested. It wouldn't be more than ten
hours a week, coupl'a hours a day. Only temporary, like I say. But
I thought it would be something you could do in the evenings, not too
strenuous, and it would help supplement your apple income, seeing the
apples aren't a big wage-earner."

"I'm
not a qualified bookkeeper."

"Neither
am I. You'd know a dern sight more 'n' me. Far as I'm concerned,
the job's yours if you want it."

"In
that case, I accept," Ruth said happily. She suspected Bo had
gone out of his way to create the job opportunity for her, but she
did need the work, and she wasn't going to quibble.

"When
d'you want me to start?" she asked.

"Well,
I thought next week. Monday evening okay? I can give you a call
after supper to see what time suits."

"Sure,
anytime. My evenings are generally free."

Monday
evening found Ruth and Bo poring over the financial records of Eddie
Hoffstetter's apple packing and shipping operation.

"You're
right, you do need some help. I'd hate to think what would've
happened if you'd ever been audited. Yikes!" Ruth said. Maybe
Bo wasn't just going out of his way to be kind. It would be a job of
work to train him in the double-entry system and get his messes
straightened out. There was a serious lack of method to the present
madness.

"I
told you I needed help," Bo said, not at all abashed by her
appraisal. "Don't worry, you'll be earning your money here."

After
the day of hot sun, fresh air, and physical labour, her eyes began to
cross after an hour, and the yawn she could no longer hold back
nearly split her face in two.

"That's
enough for today," Bo said decisively. "Another long day
tomorrow. You need some sleep."

The
days
were
long, but her sleep was sweet and sudden. And it was delightful to
be earning an income again.

"Ruth,
how are you?"

She
turned away from Forresters' window display of winter coats, not
instantly recognizing the voice.

"Oh,
hello, Mars. I'm doing all right. How are you?"

"Pretty
fair. Can't complain. Haven't seen you in dogs' years."
"It
has been a while."

"Guess
I haven't seen you since you worked at Turnbulls'."

"That
was dogs' years ago," Ruth laughed. "Technically, it was
only about three months. But time is relative. A whole lot has
happened since then."

"I
heard. I'm sorry. Maybe it was for the best, though. About Graham,
I mean."

Same
old Mars. He hadn't gained in tact since Ruth had seen him last.
She didn't answer but turned back to the window display, admiring the
red, wool A-line.

"I
mean, you're a free woman now."

"Not
quite free, Mars. I still have obligations."

"Y'know
what I mean. You're free if you choose to be."

"It's
not that easy, Mars."

He
made a sound of impatience.

"How
long you gonna go on mourning for a guy who wasn't worth your giving
the time of day to?"

"I
don't know."

"That's
foolishness," Mars snorted. "You need to get on with your
life."

"Foolish
or not, it's how I'm built, Mars. Look, sorry to rush off, but I'd
better keep moving. I've got to get home."

"Ruth!"
He caught her by the arm as she turned away.

"Ruth,
he doesn't need to stand between us now. He's gone."

"Stand
between us?"
"You told me you were a married woman, that
it didn't matter what he did, it wasn't going to change the fact that
you were a married woman. Well, I admired your convictions. Not
sure I completely saw it your way, but I admired them. But you're
not a married woman anymore."

"Mars,
I ..."

"I
realize that you may still need some time, but don't let one bad
marriage keep you running scared the rest of your life."

"Mars
..."

"I'd
be good to you, Ruth. We'd be happy together."

"No,
Mars, we wouldn't. I wouldn't."

"Wha'd'you
mean? I can understand if you need more time, but I promise you, I'd
be good to you. I'd never hurt you like that. You know I care.
I've cared for a long time."

"But
I don't! Not in that way. Not the way you'd need me to. It's no
use, Mars. I know you'd try to be good to me, but it's not enough.
I don't need more time. You need to forget about me. And we can
both forget this conversation ever happened."

"Is
he still standing between us? Why should he stand between us
forever?"

"Mars,
please. I don't know how much more plain I can make it. Maybe I
will never recover from Graham. I think what I felt for Graham could
only come once in a lifetime for me. I can't imagine feeling about
anyone else the way that I felt about Graham. But even if there had
never been a Graham, even if I'd never met him, I couldn't feel that
way about you, Mars. I'm sorry. I tried to explain before, and I
thought you understood. But it ... could, just ... never be, Mars.
I'm sorry. Please believe me. You have to believe me. There is
never going to be a me and you."

Mars
looked at her for a moment. There was a pleading in his brown eyes,
but he'd finished pleading with his lips. Without speaking, he
turned away to walk in the opposite direction down the street.

Ruth's insides seized with a
violent spasm. It brought enormous discomfort to watch someone hurt
and know she was responsible even if it hadn't been her fault. Even
if it was just Mars who spent more time aggravating her than anything
else. But why did he have to have that sadly, hopeful look in his
brown eyes to remind her of Joshua Bella?

Her day was ruined. All the
pleasure she'd felt in the day off and the beautiful, sunny, autumn
weather and the amble down main street had dissipated. She couldn't
keep a little anger from being mixed in with her other emotions. The
whole thing had been so unnecessary. How could some men be so
stubbornly, needlessly obtuse? Honestly!