Patterns of Swallows (50 page)

"Pleased
to meet you," Bo said formally and stiffly in an abnormally
serious tone to match his abnormally serious face. He didn't offer
his hand. "Well, Ruth, I'll see you tomorrow. I just wanted to
let you know how much I enjoyed your song. I hope you'll enjoy your
time in Arrowhead," he said to James; then turned rapidly and
made for the front door of the church. His head was held very erect,
and his back was as straight as a yardstick. He hadn't even said
hello to Gabe or taken any notice of him, and that never happened.

Something
in Ruth died a small death. This was lunacy. Whatever had inspired
her to listen to an idea that came from reading too many romance
stories? Talk about a royal backfire! She should have known
jealousy wouldn't prompt Bo to action. Of course, if he believed
himself vanquished, he'd nobly step out of the way to clear the
field! How like him!

And
the whole nonsense was unnecessarily cruel. How could she ever have
wanted Bo to suffer the torments of jealousy on her behalf? The only
good to come from it was that she now knew everything she needed to
know. Not that the knowledge did her any good. How could the entire
mess be fixed now? She wasn't sure, but she had to try.

"Excuse
me for just for a moment. I have to talk to Bo about something,"
she said to her guest, handing Gabe to his grandma.

Bo
was out the door and in the parking lot, nearly to his pickup.

"Bo
... Bo," she called, running across the grass, her heels digging
into the soft soil. She knew it was undignified, chasing a man
across the church lawn, and she didn't know what she would say if she
caught him, but pride and caution had to be thrown to the wind.

He
turned as he reached his vehicle.

"Hi,"
he said shortly.

"Bo
..."

"Yes?"
His voice was flat.

"Bo
... I ... he's ... James is just an old friend. Just someone I knew
for a short time a few years ago."

This
wasn't playing the game. Women shouldn't blurt out truths that could
be so very nearly construed as "forward." She knew it, but
what else could she do? Her natural, uncontrollable forthrightness
couldn't be kept down.

"Is
he?" The look in his eyes smote her. The hurt wasn't readily
visible on the surface, but she knew the coldness in them came from
hurt.

"Yes,
he is. You have to believe me."

"Why
should it matter to you what I believe about it?" he asked her.
He sounded angry, and anger was out of character for even-tempered
Bo. "What's it got to do with me? I told you once that I hoped
you would find someone someday and be happy with him. And, I have to
admit, the two of you don't look like just old friends. Maybe he's
only an old friend now, but I don't think he wants to stay that way.
You look happy with him. He makes you smile. I'm glad for you.
It's what I wanted for you. I wanted to see you smile again."

"Bo
... I ... you ..."

"Go
ahead. I'm listening."

"Well,
you make me smile, too, you know."

"And
I
am
only
an old friend, remember. Or maybe only just your
boss
as you told your friend. This isn't helping, Ruth. I'm sorry. I
just don't want to discuss it with you right now. I'll see you
tomorrow."

He
was in his driver's seat and gone before Ruth had time to gather her
wits about her.

What
had just happened? Whatever it was, it certainly hadn't gone as she
thought it might. As she'd hoped it might.

And
now what? Now she had to go back and face James and Mom and make
small talk over Sunday dinner.

Work
didn't go well for Ruth the Monday after James' visit and the scene
with Bo. She couldn't keep her mind on her tasks, waiting and
watching for Bo to come in to the office.

When
he did, he was polite to Ruth and nothing more. The only words that
passed between them were work-related. He was still angry then, was
he? And for what? Ruth found her own temper rearing its head. Was
this abrupt throwing-over of her all that his promise of his
friendship had amounted to?

She'd
worked up a good head of steam by the time she left the office that
evening.

She
spoke very little during supper. After supper, she played with Gabe,
talking and cooing to him. It was the only time Mom saw her smile
all evening.

When
Gabe was in bed and the two women had settled down in the living room
to read or crochet, Mom faced Ruth with it.

"You're
brooding."

"What?"

"It's
Bo, isn't it? Didn't you two manage to patch things up today?"

"No,
we didn't get the chance. I'm not sure he wants to patch things up.
Maybe there is nothing to patch up. Maybe we're just going to be two
people who work together and nothing more. We'll have a nice,
polite, working relationship, and that's all we'll ever have. Maybe
we just weren't meant to be friends even."

"I'm
sorry, Ruth. You were right about my cock-eyed idea. I feel like
this is all my fault. Me and my romance novels."

Ruth
smiled humorlessly. "Well, at least now I know how it feels to
be a normal human being. I knew it wasn't all it was cracked up to
be. Don't feel badly, Mom. It wasn't your fault. I think it was
the way I played along that did the damage. Actually, I'm not sure
what's eating Bo. I told him James and I are nothing more than
friends if that's what was bothering him. I'm not sure he has any
reason to be upset. In fact, it looks to me like he's upset over
nothing. If he's this easily upset, we're probably better off as we
are. Can you imagine an oversensitive man trying to cope with me?
Me, who just can't help saying anything that comes into my head?"

"That's
nonsense. Bo's not oversensitive. I don't know what's upsetting him
either, but it's no good your not talking it over with him. You need
to talk to him, Ruth. Don't just jump to conclusions about what he's
thinking. Don't give up on him so easily."

"Well,
that's the thing, isn't it? He's giving up so easily on me. I don't
think it should be up to me to try to hang onto our friendship if
he's given up on it. But don't worry about it, Mom. It will all
sort itself out in time."

Mom
shook her head. "I don't know about that. When two people have
a problem with each other, it can grow and grow with time. It
doesn't just go away. Not communicating with a person can get to be
a habit, and then it's much harder to break out of that habit down
the road than it would be to have dealt with it early on. There's
been untold misery in the world from people just not talking things
out."

"But
it shouldn't be up to me?"

"Why
shouldn't it?"

"Well,
because ... I'm the woman in the situation, aren't I?"

"What
does that have to do with anything?"

"Just
that ... I mean ... Don't you think the man is the one who should
take the initiative? It's not lady-like, and I don't imagine men
appreciate it, when a girl takes on the man's role."

"But,
Ruth, Bo has spoken to you on a certain subject. And he's promised
you never to do so again. You're the one who needs to let him know
that your mind has changed. Or your heart has, at any rate. That's
how I should have counselled you in the first place. I was wrong not
to."

"I
just couldn't! I couldn't come right out and ... what would I say?
I can't even imagine. Besides, as much as I could, I did try to talk
to him openly at church yesterday. It didn't do any good."

"That's
foolishness. The man is in love with you. Anyone can see it. He's
as much as told you so. He's just hurt because of my silly meddling.
And I'm sorry, but now it's up to you to straighten it out."

"I
tried."

"Well,
try again. Go around and see him. Do it tonight. Don't put it off.
It'll only get worse if you do."

"What?
Now? It's nearly nine o' clock. I can just imagine what his mother
will think when I show up at her house, all in a lather, just around
the time civilized beings are going to bed."

"What
difference does it make what anyone thinks? Since when did it bother
you what anyone thought? Ruth, even if the two of you are meant to
be nothing more than good friends, even your friendship is at stake
if you let this misunderstanding build between the two of you."

"Well,
what on earth can I say?"

"You
can blame it all on me."

"Oh,
very good. I can hear myself. 'Bo, I'm in love with you, and my
mother-in-law thinks you'll never do anything about it. So James was
just an attempt to make you jealous, but the whole thing was her
idea, honest!' " Ruth could feel the heat climbing rapidly to
her cheeks as she voiced the idea that she was in love with Bo. It
was so ... bare ... when she stated it like that.

"Well,
why not? You're the one who's famous for her honesty. Why should I
be the one having to urge you to tell him the exact truth?"

"That's
what I'm afraid of, that I'll get over to his house to talk to him
and end up blurting out something like what I just said to you."

"Don't
plan what to say. Just go. Now. Before it gets any later."

Ruth
got up from her armchair. She grumbled to herself loudly enough for
her mother-in-law to hear her as she found the keys for the car.

"I
can't believe I'm doing this. This is even more hare-brained than
the romance-novel idea of making him jealous. This idea is too
hare-brained even for the romance novels. No one comes right out and
says exactly what she's thinking and feeling about these kinds of
things. It just isn't done."

"Go!"
Mom commanded.

Ruth
went.

She
was back in under fifteen minutes in a state of relief and
disappointment mixed in equal parts.

"He
wasn't home," she reported. "Mrs. Weaver told me he had
some work to finish up at the packing shed. He went back after
supper, and he's there right now."

"So,
go find him at the packing shed."

"You
can't be serious!"

"Never
more serious. I can't tell you why, but I feel very strongly that
the two of you need to get this settled tonight. At least settled so
that you're friends again. It's a policy Guy and I had. We never
went to bed angry at each other. Sometimes we stayed up all night
hashing things out."

"Now
that's really not what I want to hear. I'm tired already."

"Go
now before it gets any later. I won't wait up for you. Take all the
time that you need. You need to get this talked out."

Again,
Ruth did as she was told, shaking her head and wondering why she was
following Mom's advice. The last batch of advice she'd been handed
hadn't made itself conspicuous by its wisdom. Or its positive
results.

*
* *

Bo's
pickup was parked outside the packing shed, and Ruth could see the
lights on in the office, but the door was locked, and she was
certainly not about to bang on the door to be let in. She'd wait for
Bo to come out. Even if it took all night, she'd wait. She didn't
dare go home to report to Mom that she hadn't seen him.

It
was getting on for ten o' clock. How late could Bo work? He'd put
in a full day already.

She
began to pace back and forth outside on the gravel to keep herself
warm and occupied. The night breeze was cool, and she didn't have a
jacket with her.

An
hour later, she was still pacing, and Bo had not made an appearance.

She'd
put in a full day, too, and was feeling it. But she'd waited this
long; she hated to throw in the towel now. And, truth to be told,
Mom was right. Whatever had to be settled, she wanted it settled
that night. The thought of going home and to bed now without even
seeing Bo was too anticlimactic to be borne. No, she'd wait.