Patterns of Swallows

by Connie Cook

  "Ah-ha! Now we're getting to it! 'Yes, Graham, it is her race that I object to.' That's it, isn't it?"

  "Will you lower your voice? You'll wake your father."

  "Well, shouldn't he be involved in this discussion, too? Does he feel the same way?"

  "We both feel you might end up unhappy. I don't see why you don't try to patch things up with Lily. You both seemed so happy together. I'm sure it was just a lover's quarrel, but you're taking it too far. You're just being stubborn."

  Graham blew out an exasperated breath.

  "As I told you, Lily didn't want me. I wasn't what Lily wanted. There's nothing else I can say about it. Why do we have to have this conversation right now?"

  "It's just that your father and I want the best for you. Is it so wrong to want the best for your children?"

  "And by that you mean that Lily is the best, I suppose."

  "That's not exactly what I mean. I just mean, with you and Ruth, that other people outside of the situation can see things that two people in a relationship can't see sometimes. Look at Pat. She made her own choices, and now she has to bear the consequences. She's not in an easy marriage. I tried to talk to her beforehand. I could see the difficulties she was heading for, but she wouldn't listen. She was 'in love,' and that was all there was to it. I just don't want to see you making the same mistakes as your sister."

  "If I did marry Ruth, how would that be the same mistake Pat made? Earl is as white as you or I."

  "That's not what I'm talking about."

  "Oh, isn't it? I thought it was."

  "I just mean, sometimes an outside party can see things the person involved can't see. I'm just saying you and Ruth would find problems you never expected if you married her. That's all I'm saying."

  "Okay, you've said it. I've said that I have no intention of marrying anyone at present, and I'm sure Ruth isn't thinking of me in that way, either. Now can we both just go to bed, please? I've got to be up at seven tomorrow, and you probably have to be up earlier."

  "Good-night, Graham. Don't be angry. Just think seriously about what I've said, will you?"

  "Yes, I will, Mother. Good-night."

  Graham was just glad the ordeal was over for now and that his father hadn't woken up to put in his two-cents' worth. See if he ever brought Ruth around to see his parents! What a disaster that would be! A dinner with the four of them – he could see it now: his father silent and preoccupied and wishing he were back at the mill; his mother mentally comparing Ruth to Lily Turnbull all the while.

  * * *

  I don't know that anyone ever told Ruth about Graham and Lily Turnbull beforehand. It's hard to imagine that someone in Arrowhead hadn't felt it necessary to inform Ruth that Graham and Lily had been (in the eyes of the town) headed for the altar just months before Ruth came back. But, like I say, people tended to hold their tongues around Ruth for some reason.

  The break-up happened right before the time when Ruth came back. All the rife speculation at the time never managed to unearth the root of the quarrel. There were several favoured theories, but the plain fact was that Lily was seeing Bo Weaver, and seeing him fairly seriously and exclusively, weeks, if not days, after the time of her seeing Graham seriously and exclusively.

  There was no doubt in anyone's mind who chose whom. What lowly peasant would dare to deny royalty her slightest whim, even if the whim was for the lowly peasant himself? That was how the townspeople accounted for the unlikely pairing.

  An odder couple than Lily and Bo could not be imagined ... though the Weaver family had risen socially in recent years. With Bo supporting his mother and five brothers and sisters in a respectable manner, the town had largely forgotten how Mrs. Weaver had kept her family alive during the lean times. The ladies of the town acknowledged her presence in a forgiving manner now. A change in fortunes will cover a multitude of sin.

  Mainly, Lily and Bo were inexplicable because it was hard to imagine that Lily could have kept somewhere deep inside of her the kind of discernment necessary for picking out the kind of quality article that Bo Weaver was.

  Though, really, should we have been surprised? Lily always did have a hankering to have the best of everything. Lily's taste in clothes was legendary in our town. Why should we all have been surprised that she had a shrewd eye when it came to men, too? Especially since Bo had shown that he possessed, in addition to character, the kind of financial backbone necessary for the happiness of a Turnbull scion. He wasn't rich, but he was smart and hard-working, and there was a possibility he could be well-heeled some day.

  Or maybe it had nothing to do with Bo's quality. Maybe it was just the thrill of the chase. Maybe the others bored her with their obvious readiness to be caught. Bo Weaver was the one man in town that Lily might have expected to give her some trouble in the catching.

  Maybe more surprising was Bo's lack of discernment in being caught so readily.

  But whatever the cause of Bo and Lily, there could hardly have been an odder couple.

  Unless it was Ruth and Graham. Most people assumed that the fact of Graham and Ruth was merely revenge-seeking toward Lily on Graham's part. As the months of the fact of Graham and Ruth drew close onto a year, however, most of the town (outside of his parents who still held out hope for Graham and Lily right up until Lily's engagement) began to accept them as just another fait accompli. And once a fait accompli happens, it loses its novelty and so its shock value.

  Lily and Bo's engagement came as a very small surprise compared to the bombshell of their original interest in each other. Even Lily's parents put a brave face on it and refused to grieve publicly. No doubt, their daughter's connection to Bo Weaver was a bitter pill for them to swallow, but they had never managed to exercise any control over Lily. They knew she would do as she wished. So they made up their minds to accept Bo Weaver as a son-in-law.

  The couple were engaged by the next spring – the spring after Ruth's return to Arrowhead. They planned a late summer wedding – simple but tasteful (simple by Turnbull standards). It wouldn't give Lily much time for planning, but from the time Lily could walk (if not sooner) Mrs. Turnbull had been planning Lily's walk down the aisle – the only hitch when the time drew near to the actual event being that the groom was not the one Mrs. Turnbull had been envisioning. But every wedding has its minor setbacks. So everything would no doubt come together quite nicely and in time for late summer.

  Chapter 6

  "Come on! Why not?" Graham said.

  "Because your parents would be disappointed in you."

  "They'll get over it! Besides, they're the reason, really. I don't want to have to listen to any more of their lectures and their concerns and all that."

  "And what if they're right?"

  "They're not right. Look me in the eyes, and tell me you think my parents are right about you."

  "It's not me I'm thinking about, you know that. I could care less for my own sake. I don't have anyone to disappoint. But I don't want to come between you and your parents. I know they don't think I'm good enough for you. This would just prove it to them."

  "They're wrong about that. You're much too good for me. Anyways, they'd just have to accept it in the end. It would simplify things, really. There's not much they could say once it's all over. I'm so tired of listening to lectures!"

  "But what if they're right?"

  "They're not right. And you and I both know it."

  "And if they are right and you and I both know it, it's not going to make much difference, is it? I mean, it's going to happen, anyways, isn't it, one way or the other because we won't stop it?"

  "That's my girl! Always expecting the worst, but going ahead, anyways. What would make you think my parents are right?"

  "I don't. You're right. Neither one of us thinks they're right. I'm just saying, what if? What if they're right and we're wrong?"

  "Well, you can't live your life by what anyone else thinks, can you? And you can't live your life on 'what ifs'."

  "No, you ca
n't."

  "So, wha'd'you say?"

  "Well, I don't have anyone but myself to think about on my side, so I don't mind for myself."

  "You mean you will?"

  "Oh, I suppose I will."

  "Well, try to curb your enthusiasm, woncha?"

  "Okay, yes! Yes, yes, yes! There! Happy now?"

  "Ecstatic."

  "Really?"

  "Over the moon."

  "So, when?"

  "Tomorrow morning. Early."

  "Tomorrow? So soon?"

  "What's the point in waiting? I'm ready when you are."

  "Well, tomorrow then. What time should I expect you?"

  "I'll pick you up about six?"

  "I'll be ready.”

  * * *

  Mrs. MacKellum poured boiling water over the peaches in the sink. The boiling water was supposed to make the skins come off easier. She'd never noticed that it worked. Either the peaches were at the point of ripeness where the skins came off easily or they weren't. It had nothing to do with the boiling water. She knew it, but she continued to pour boiling water over her peaches. It was the way her mother had taught her to can peaches, and it was the way she had taught her daughter. Not that Pat ever canned peaches anymore.

  The boiling water might have been superstition on her part. Everything had to be done just right to have winning peaches. She'd be chanting incantations over the peaches next, she supposed. But maybe this year was the year her peaches would take first prize at the Fall Fair. Why shouldn't it be this year? Her turn was coming, she felt sure of it. She'd been saying the same thing to herself for years, but after all, if it was ever going to happen, every year brought that magical year another year closer.

  She didn't know why it mattered, but it did. Maybe it was on account of the number of years she'd been trying for it. When one went after a thing for that long, it was hard not to find one's sense of personal worth all tied up with a jar of peaches. She knew it was silly, but there! Why shouldn't she be silly once in awhile?

  She chose the best-looking peaches – not bruised, not too green, just the right size – and began carefully stripping off the skins and cutting the fruit as uniformly as she could. She'd do the jar for the fair first.

  It turned out very nicely, too. She never could see why the winning peaches were any better than her own. Sometimes she was even sure they were worse.

  She finished the other jars and poured the sticky sugar-water over them, then put the rings and lids on them, set them in the canner, and turned on the heat.

  By the time Guy came back from picking up a paper (delivery to their street had stopped on weekends, and they knew not why), he was good and ready for his breakfast. They always ate later on a Saturday so the men could have a lie-in on their day off.

  The peaches had just finished. She tested them all and opened a jar that hadn't sealed properly (fortunately, not her fair peaches); then dished the still-hot peaches into the small bowls at each of the three places.

  "Graham's vehicle's not here. Did he go out already?" her husband asked her.

  "Must have. It was there last night when I went to bed. He turned in before I did, even."

  "I wonder where the boy's at. Surely he wouldn't be over at that girl's place already!" (Mr. MacKellum knew "that girl's" name very well until Graham had started spending all his free time with her. Then he'd developed selective memory loss.)

  "Not at this hour. I'm surprised he's awake at all on a Saturday before ten. It's not likely he'd be with Ruth already. He'll turn up. He must have had an errand."

  Mrs. MacKellum waited breakfast as long as she could, but Guy was getting irritable. His moods didn't handle an empty stomach well.

  "Let's eat. Graham can get something for himself when he comes in," she said finally.

  They were just finishing up (the peaches were delicious. Mrs. MacKellum only wished the judges could taste her peaches as well as look at them) when they heard Graham's pickup pull into the driveway.

  "There! I told you he'd be back," she said, satisfied. Whatever the errand had been, he wasn't with that Chavinski girl.

  "Mom, Dad!" Graham said, putting his head through the open door of the dining room, "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

  "Come in, Graham. Your scrambled eggs are cold. Sit down and eat," his mother said, disregarding his announcement, imagining it was just one of his pranks.

  He ignored her instructions.

  "Come on in, Ruth. Come in here. Mom, Dad, I have a new daughter for you. Meet my wife, the new Mrs. MacKellum." He looked like a child on Christmas morning. The shine in his eyes and his boyish excitement tore his mother's heart apart. Why was the world arranged in such a way that children had to grow up at all? Couldn't time stand still once in awhile?

  "Oh, Graham," she whispered, her heart visible in her eyes for a moment.

  "Now don't carry on, Mom. I know it's a surprise, but I hope it will be a nice one. At least in time when you get used to the idea of me being all grown up and able to decide things for myself."

  "Well, Ruth! So he made an honest woman of you, did he?" Mr. MacKellum intended it to sound jovial, but it fell flat. He got up from the table to give her a hearty handshake. Ruth returned the handshake but could think of nothing to say.

  "I hope you'll be very happy," Mrs. MacKellum said in a tone that sounded as though it wasn't a wish very likely to come true. She went to Ruth to kiss her cheek. Then she choked back a sob and fled the dining room.

  "You'll have to excuse your mother. It takes a little getting used to, y'know, the two of you bursting in here, announcing a thing like that. When did it happen?"

  "Just this morning. I had the license and the ring for a few days, but I still had to convince Ruth. Finally wore her down yesterday, so I wasn't waiting any longer after that. Didn't wanna give her any more chances of slipping through my fingers than I had to, y'know. We drove this morning to Camille to a justice of the peace I'd arranged things with. Got there about eight and had the deed all done by about quarter past. No endless wedding sermons to sit through. I tell ya, that's the way to get hitched. All that fuss and bother and expense just to do something that can be done in fifteen minutes. Not for me."

  "As long as that was how you both wanted it," Graham's father said drily.

  "I didn't mind," Ruth said. It was the first thing she'd said since entering the MacKellums' house.

  "I don't mind telling you, your mother will probably take this hard, though. No church wedding and all that, I mean. You know women. They always want a big 'do' with all the trimmings."

  "She'll get used to the idea. You can remind her how much money I saved her by doing it this way."

  Mr. MacKellum chuckled. "That might help."

  "We can always have some kind of a reception later if she has her heart set on some kind of formality."

  No one bothered to mention that it wasn't really the formality that Mrs. MacKellum had had her heart set on.

  She came back in at that juncture, dry-eyed and composed and trying to smile. She clamped her lips over the bitter disappointment that could so easily have spilled out into words.

  With Lily's abrupt throwing-over of Bo early that summer just a month before the wedding, the hopes that she thought had died had spontaneously resurrected themselves. Town gossip had said things like, "It's because Bo ended up being too easy to catch," and, "I imagine Graham MacKellum's starting to look pretty good to her again now that he's got eyes only for that Chavinski girl," and, "That Chavinski girl'd better look sharp if she doesn't want to lose her man after all."

  Of course, Mrs. MacKellum hadn't listened to town gossip, but she couldn't keep hope from "springing eternal" all the same. Now that eternally-springing hope lay in pieces around her feet.

  She couldn't have said why she'd wanted Lily for Graham. Maybe it was just like the peaches. You start off wanting something, and if you keep it up too long, it gets to be a habit.

  Or maybe she had, somewhere along the way, con
vinced herself that Lily was who Graham wanted, and mothers have a difficult time separating their children's wishes from their own just as they have a difficult time separating their children's persons from their own.

  "I'm sorry," she said to them all. "It's just the emotion of the moment. It's all a little sudden, you know. Congratulations to you both. I just hope you won't be sorry, Ruth. You don't know what you're letting yourself in for, marrying a MacKellum. Graham takes after his father, you know. My son can be rather a handful." His fond mother said the words to Ruth but the smile she couldn't help every time she looked at her son was all for him. "Now. If you're going to do me out of helping to plan a wedding, at least let me serve you the wedding breakfast. I'm sure you're both famished. With your early start you wouldn't have time to eat, and you were probably too excited to stop anywhere on the way back. Sit down and eat. There's plenty, Ruth. You can tell us all the plans for things while you eat."

  "I don't mind. I have to tell you, all this marrying business gives me an appetite," Graham said, easy and comfortable back in his own home now that the worst was over. He straddled a chair backwards, a habit he hadn't outgrown from his teenage years. If he noticed that Ruth wasn't quite as easy and comfortable, he didn't let on. She took a seat beside him, sitting gingerly and without leaning all her weight back, as though the chair might disappear beneath her without warning.

  Graham ate well, and Ruth ate a little. Graham answered most of the questions with his mouth full.

  Where would they live now? The farm, of course. It was perfectly adequate for the two of them. For now, at least. They'd think about a place in town when they had enough for a down payment and then some. Graham had quite a chunk saved from working in management at the mill for the past year and before that, from working part time on all the different lines. (His father thought it would be good for his only son to know every aspect of the running of operations intimately the way he, himself, had learned them: from the ground up.)