by Don Zelma
Chapter Five
Ruth forced her broom under a pew and worked the confetti free from the boards. She could hear Dan near the pulpit, banging his broom against the wall and smiled – her soul mate was an impatient, noisy sweeper.
‘How are the stage pot plants, Mister Amos?’ she called, her voice echoing in the hall.
‘They look fine,’ he murmured, seemingly preoccupied with sweeping.
Ruth worked her brush towards the aisle. ‘Do they need sunlight?’ she asked. ‘I can swap them with plants in the greenhouse.’
‘Sure… Whatever,’ he said.
Ruth looked up and across the hall. A cloud of dust she had unsettled had drifted in between them. It was turning white as it passed through the window light and she stepped to the wall and unlatched a window. ‘Maybe, when we move,’ she said, ‘we could plant some paw paws?’ She turned and looked at him, far away. ‘What do you think?’ she said.
‘Sure,’ he said absentmindedly, ‘if that’s what you want.’
Ruth paused and smiled – Dan wasn’t listening. She heard the gardener outside turn off his lawnmower and felt the cool breeze blow in from the window. The room filled with the smell of freshly cut grass.
‘I’m listening,’ Dan said. He coughed and cleared his throat.
‘I’ll plant you a good pawpaw,’ he said. ‘We’ll get the finest in Jessup’s nursery.’
Ruth smiled and started sweeping. She brushed a levee of dust towards the wall then looked at him working about the stage. He moved a little slower these days, even from a year ago. Then, she remembered that they both had aged. He forced his broom under the grand piano and swept glibly around the pedals. He was clumsy, it was true, but he possessed a wonderful kindness that always brightened her day. She had glimpsed this at age nineteen when they had first met and she remembered she had subconsciously chosen him on account of this. She recalled the very moment, during a conversation after a morning service, when she had decided to gain his attention. Their first conversation occurred exactly where she now stood. At that stage he had been minister not even a month and, to her, he glowed like the light of a cane fire on a dark winter’s night.
He halted, hearing the absence of her brush strokes, and peered across the hall. Ruth stared at him. He waited then winced. ‘What?’ he said.
She looked down and quietly chuckled. ‘Nothing…’ she said. She began sweeping. She felt she was lucky to have him.
‘What?’ he said almost inaudibly.
‘Nothing,’ she said.
She heard his broom moving again and reached her brush out under a pew.
‘Sometimes,’ he said, far away, ‘I think you’re a bit of a weirdo.’
She felt her smile forming, pulling up at her cheeks. ‘Am I?’ she said, giggling, watching her broom. She swept more dust in towards the wall.
‘I reckon you are,’ he muttered.
She listened to her brush strokes, thinking for a long time before speaking. ‘You have a beautiful heart,’ she said. ‘Do you know that?’ Silence followed and the hall seemed to resonate with her words. Over the years, she remembered, she had made many declarations like this.
‘No, I didn’t know that,’ he said.
She continued sweeping. ‘That’s why I chose you, so long ago,’ she said.
Dan stopped sweeping. ‘Speak up!’ he called, a hand to his hear. ‘I can’t hear you.’
‘That’s why I chose you!’ she shouted.
Dan grimaced. ‘You chose me, did you?’ he said. She pouted, turned and went back to work. ‘I see…’ he said. He opened the service door to the baptismal pool and started sweeping in.
Ruth looked down at the floorboards. It was November and not yet too hot and she pictured their greenhouse under the mango and the lawn, green due to the regular tropical rains. She slowed her sweeping and, lost in thought, propped her chin up on the broom handle. She breathed and let the quiet harmony of the moment fill her soul.
Could it be? she thought to herself. Yes, she decided. It was.
Despite all of the past tragedies, she was, she believed, the happiest she had ever been.