“Claire, I’m so glad you could make it.”
Claire smiled. She suddenly felt unsure and even awkward. She and Ruth knew each other, of course, but they’d never been close. And when Jonathan chose Ava over Ruth, Claire hadn’t really spoken to her since. She hadn’t thought about it before with the excitement of a paid painting job, but now she worried that Ruth might want to talk about the past and Claire didn’t quite know how she would handle that.
“Ruth, how are you?” she asked.
“I am wonderful,” she said, gliding across the room, holding the chubby hand of the small boy huddling close. “This is my son, Mahni.”
“He’s beautiful,” Claire said. Mahni had an exotic look to him. Though she could clearly see Ruth in the child, his dark almond eyes and warm skin was from another.
“And I suppose this is Jac?”
“It is,” Claire said, beaming. “Thank you for letting me bring him. It would have been near impossible for me to come if I couldn’t with Aryl having to work and all.”
“Oh, I prefer it. I’m sure Mahni and Jac will become great friends.”
Mahni leaned his head slowly down to Ruth’s shoulder, eying the strangers with uncertainty. Jac squealed and clapped his hands, bucking to be let down.
“Why don’t I show you to your room, you can get settled and then we’ll take the boys to Natalie and I thought and we’d get a bite to eat?” she asked, turning as she spoke. Mahni peered over her shoulder at Claire and Jac and gave the faintest smile.
Once in the nursery, Claire leaned over and as soon as Jac’s knees touched the ground, he was off on a manic tear. Mahni watched him with awe and curiosity as he raced from the rocking horse to the crib, to the window and over to the toy chest.
“I’m afraid he’s rather…spirited,” Claire said and flashed an apologetic smile at Mahni’s young nanny, Natalie.
“He’ll be fine, ma’am,” Natalie said with a little curtesy. She had blonde curls, full and bouncy, held back by a thick black headband. She looked clean and neat in her black and white uniform.
“Be sure you lock the doors…and the windows,” Claire said.
“Everything is fine. No one is going to get into the house,” Ruth said.
“Oh, I know. I’m worried about him getting out.”
Natalie spoke to Claire, but her eyes remained on Jac as he darted from place to place. “I will keep him perfectly safe. We’ll have a lovely time here, the three of us. Don’t you worry a bit.”
“There aren’t any animals around, are there?” Claire asked.
“I have a cat, but he’s gentle. Jac will be fine,” Ruth assured her.
“It’s not Jac I’m worried about,” she said, lifting her brows.
“The boys will be fine and we won’t be long at all,” Ruth said, laying a hand on Claire’s arm, turning her toward the door.
Once in the restaurant, Claire tried to relax. She knew this place. She and Aryl had dined here many times, long ago. It had changed a bit; the draperies and seat coverings were different, but the deep green carpet and white lace table linens were the same. She used to be as comfortable here as in her own dining room. Now she felt like an outsider. A pretender, even. Glancing around she saw no other familiar faces. She did notice that Ruth had declined a wine selection with a wave of her hand and the waiter delivered ice water in goblets instead. She told him to double her usual order for lunch and Claire thought it odd for her to assume she’d like to eat the exact same meal. Borderline rude, even, to not let her order for herself.
Returning moments later, the waiter presented two goblets of milk and Claire’s eyes widened as the waiter lay down a tray of cakes, cookies and pastries. More than the two of them could eat in an entire week.
“My guilty pleasure,” Ruth said, lowering her head and looking up through her lashes. “It’s terrible, I know, but ever since I had Mahni, I’ve have a terrible craving for sweets. Once a month I come here and have nothing but confections for lunch. So long as I don’t do it more often than that, I can still wear the same dresses.” She pulled up her shoulders with her confession.
Claire’s eyes traveled from one delicious treat to the next.
“You won’t hear me complaining,” she said.
“Oh, do try these,” Ruth said, pointing to a small cake. “Dark chocolate cream frosting with a cherry liquor filling.” She held one out. “They are divine.”
Claire took a bite and ate it slowly, enjoying every morsel. To anyone else, she appeared dainty and feminine. She certainly didn’t feel that way. Her only regret was being in public, because she very much wanted to stuff the entire thing in her mouth.
“This is bliss,” she said carefully, not waiting to swallow her food before she spoke.
Ruth grinned and reached for one herself. “I won’t be offended if conversation dies off for a bit,” she said with a wink.
They ate as fast as society would consider polite and when she was quite full, Claire sat back in her chair, wiping her mouth.
“This is a fabulous idea, Ruth.”
“My little monthly indulgence takes my mind off things temporarily. Looks like it worked for you, too. Are you still worried about Jac?” Ruth asked as she took a sip of milk.
“I’m more worried about your poor nanny. She won’t know what’s hit her in an hour’s time. I’ll feel terrible if she quits on you.”
“He can’t be as spirited as that,” she said with a disbelieving laugh.
“Oh, he is,” Claire said unable to hold back a smile. “He has Aryl and I running from sun up to sun down. Sometimes longer.” Her torso began to melt into a less anxious posture and she reminded herself to enjoy this time. Natalie might be a sobbing mess by the time they returned, but Claire had spent endless days holding on by one frail nerve. She needed, no—she deserved—this time to breathe easily. She made a conscious decision to do just that and met Ruth’s eyes with a bright smile.
“How have you been?” she asked.
“I’ve been good. Busy with the demands of a young son, as you know.”
“Motherhood has been good to you, Ruth.” It was true. Ruth seemed not only vibrant and energetic, there was a peacefulness about her demeanor. So different than the Ruth she used to know.
She dropped her eyes with a demure smile. “So I’ve been told. I’m grateful for it. Even under the circumstances. It’s silly, but, sometimes I wonder, had Victor and I had a child of our own, would it have changed him, too? I so adore the person I’ve become, would Victor have changed, if he’d found something good and pure to focus on, rather than hate and revenge for his own inadequacies?”
“I guess we’ll never know,” Claire said and took a sip of milk. While silently hoping Ruth didn’t continue to talk about the past too much, she was and had always been curious about something. “Did you love him?” she asked after a moment.
Pulling a slow breath, Ruth tilted her head. “Not in the way most women love men. It wasn’t the stuff of Hollywood or fairy tales. I think I was more in love with the idea that he might change and if he did, then I hoped he could find his way to really love me. And I would love him for that. Happily ever after…well, happily enough was at least possible, so long as I had that hope.” She smiled as she looked away. “It’s silly, I suppose.”
“No, I think I understand. I was in a similar situation. Thankfully it was brief and turned out well. But there was a time when my husband was obsessed with something else. He had to change or I’d have to take my son and leave. When he was so distant, so distracted and uncaring, I think I did fall out of love with him for a time. All I had was hope that he’d find his way back, and that we’d be enough for him when he did.”
“It keeps you going. Hope.” She smiled nervously and raised her hand to the waiter. “Ready for more, dear?”
“Oh, no, I can’t. I think I might burst.”
“Well, I’ll have more for the both of us. I haven’t had this nice a time in months.”
“Surely you still get out with your friends?” Claire asked, eying another pastry as the waiter approached with another tray.
“I come here, as I said, but I try not to leave Mahni often. I do have friends over on occasion, most either don’t have children or their children are grown. I am in the process of repopulating my circle of friends with women whom I might have more in common with.”
“Do you think you’ll marry again?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ruth said, smiling wistfully. “It’s not something I’ve thought about. I’m certainly in no rush. Mahni is the only man in my life right now. I suppose that sounds even sillier than the idea of falling in love with Victor.”
“No, it sounds as if you are dedicated to your son.” Claire gave in and reached for the pastry.
***
Jonathan asked David to help carry crates full of lobster to the end of the pier. He lifted one up and nodded for Jonathan to add a second. After getting a good grip on the bottom, nodded again for a third to be added to the stack.
Jonathan appeared unsure. “These are record catches for us, David. In no small part because of you. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I’ll be fine. This doesn’t weigh more than half of what a grown man weighs and I carry them around at work all the time. In fact, this is easier. The lobster aren’t kicking and screaming,” he replied with an amused grin.
“If you’re sure,” Jonathan said, relenting. He hoisted a third crate with a grunt and David began down the pier.
Aryl watched him and after a moment, felt eyes on himself. Scanning, he saw another boat in the process of tying off. The hand aboard quickly jerked his eyes from Aryl and they landed on David. Slowly they slid back again.
Aryl tensed as he reached to board the boat again.
“Bastards.”
This was what Aryl began to silently refer to as the daily stare. Other crews would frequently eye the colored man working with them as they offloaded. Two days prior, one man was so busy craning his neck to get an eyeful that he fell right off the boat and into the water.
Jonathan grabbed Aryl’s sleeve, causing him to come to a jerking halt. Aryl looked from Jonathan’s hand to his face, displeased and defensive.
“Aryl, what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Aryl said as his face slid into something unreadable.
“You don’t have a problem with David, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then, would you like to tell me why you’re acting the way you are?”
“What are you talking about? I’m getting a headache, that’s all.”
“You aren’t exactly hard for me to read, Aryl. Something is on your mind and has been all week. Which is about the length of time that David has been working with us.”
“I don’t like Claire being gone,” he said as if it were some great admission he hated to make.
“It’s more than that.” The benefit of knowing someone their entire life was also knowing when they were lying. Or in Aryl’s case, telling a half truth.
“Yeah, it’s about David, too. I’m worried for Caleb and his family. And for us and our boats.” He saw Jonathan’s expression and looked away. “Not because of David. Because of people. When they get fixed on something and that something catches…I don’t trust people, Jon.” He tilted his head inconspicuously at the other boat. “Do you see the way they’re staring at us and David? They do it every day.”
“I know you don’t trust people. But they aren’t going to do anything but wag their tongue and go home and tell their wives. They’ll chew on it for a few days and it will pass.”
Aryl looked unconvinced as he tried to sidestep Jonathan to get to the boat.
“Sure, they’re gawking and whispering, but they’re also busy trying to survive, same as us. Besides, after what we’ve been through, I think we can handle a few small minds.” He threw his hand in disgust and made eye contact with the captain of the other boat. He stared for a long time and then waved with a tight smile.
“That’s not all,” Aryl said.
Jonathan faced him, waiting.
Aryl braced one hand on his lower back. “I’ve never seen anybody work so hard. I’m having a hell of a time keeping up with him.”
Jonathan grinned. “Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” He slapped him on the back, causing Aryl to wince. “Let’s get finished up. It’s going to be our biggest payday yet if my numbers were right. Couldn’t have happened at a better time, too. Right before Christmas.”
Episode Five
“Holding On”
Aryl was at the train station a half hour before the scheduled arrival. He paced, clutching a bouquet of flowers. Glancing at them, he scoffed. It could hardly be considered a bouquet. Two red roses with sprigs of baby’s breath nestled in pine. While the sentiment went nicely with the season, it paled in comparison to the exotic bouquets he’d once had delivered to Claire.
He looked down the tracks even though he had heard neither whistle nor engine. He sighed and resumed pacing over the wooden floor of the platform, swinging the roses at his side.
He debated telling her how hard this week was for him. She might think him weak. There were many times, dozens of times that he’d opened his mouth to tell her something, something from the dark past that was bothering him and stopped. She seemed content that things were, for the most part, normal. He tried hard to keep things that way.
Continuing his slow walk, flowers swinging at his side, he reviewed the last week. As hard as it was, he liked to think he’d done well. There were nightmares, but those weren’t unusual. Of course there were the long nights in a house that was far too quiet where, after being woken from a nightmare, he lay and stare at the ceiling for hours, trying not to think.
Maura had been kind enough to bring some food a few times, once even taking the trouble to stay and cook. Still, he thought he might have lost a pound or two as he adjusted the waistband of his pants.
He heard the whistle in the distance. Simultaneously his hand clutched the flowers tighter while his head relaxed back. He gazed at the sky for a moment as the train drew closer. He always knew he needed her. He just never realized how much.
The behemoth steam engine passed and came to a grinding stop. There was only a few cars with passengers and he stood in the middle of them, glancing in both directions. Back and forth his head whipped, looking for the door where she might emerge.
A woman holding a baby stepped off, her hat obscuring her face. Then someone called Aryl’s name from behind.
Turning, he saw her, smiling. Jac was on her hip, waving his fist around.
He lurched forward with an uncoordinated step. Picking up his step he got to her quickly, grabbing her up in a crushing hug.
***
“How was it while I was gone?” Claire asked as she set Jac down on the floor. He immediately raced off on hands and knees toward the kitchen.
“It was fine,” Aryl said casually.
She brought the roses to her nose. “Really?”
“No,” he said with on off kilter smile. “It was hell. I’m glad you’re home.”
“I’ll bet you enjoyed the peace and quiet at least.”
This was one of those moments he could have, should have, spoken up. Would it help her feel closer to him if he shared these things? Or would it cause her to worry and be angry at him for making her scared that there was still a chance he could falter? The truth was, the peace and quiet made it easier to think about things he’d rather forget.
The voice of craving rose up much more loudly when it was quiet.
Solitude made the possibility of just this once so much easier to justify. Just as she didn’t know the extent of his struggling now, she wouldn’t have known if he had slipped up, either.
He pulled her close and repeated himself. “I’m glad you’re home.”
They heard a loud crash coming from the kitchen and both hurried to the doorway. Jac had
pulled open a cabinet and knocked over a stack of pots and baking tins. He smacked a pie plate against a cast iron pan with glee.
“Are you sure?” Claire asked, glancing at Aryl, who seemed unfazed by the noise and the mess.
“Positive,” he said, looking down on her.
***
As Muzzy looked up, her fingers kept moving against the typewriter keys.
“Good morning, Maura. Please tell me you have the first three questions?”
“I do. It is Friday after all.” She held a folded piece of paper out. “I have to admit, it was fun, even if I did ask the questions myself. I’m looking forward to the real ones.”
Muzzy held up two crossed fingers.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maura asked, sitting down.
“I just had a thought last night. A worry, really. Maybe people won’t want to ask for help with their problems in a public forum.”
“Oh, now, I don’t think so. People have always looked to other people fer help. I think the only problem is going to be getting all the submissions to me on yer motorbike,” Maura said. “Have ye thought of a name fer the column?”
“I haven’t had much time. But, since it goes out with tomorrow’s paper, I think I’ll just name it ‘Hettie Helps’. I thought of it after my aunt. Who never actually helped. She was more one to stir the pot and all the extended family joked to beware of Hettie’s help. Because she didn’t, you see.”
“I understand irony, dear.”
“Well, do you like it?”
“I think it will do just fine. Hettie sounds like an older wiser woman, but homey and simple, too. One to give good sound advice. I like it.”
Muzzy flipped open the paper. “I’m dying to see what the first three questions are.”
“Well, I chose three that I thought enough women could relate to. One about child rearing, one about cooking and, just to really get them talking, one about not feeling…er, compatible with the husband in the bedroom.”
Purling Road - The Complete First Season: Episodes 1-10 Page 11