by Connie Cook
“Probably the end of this week. Maybe one more week. Depends how fast we get the last of the Red Delicious crop off.”
“And what were you saying?”
“I was just going to ask you what plans you have for when picking’s finished.”
“Back to the job hunting, I guess.”
“Nothing in mind?”
“ ‘Fraid not.”
“Would you be interested in a spot on the sorting line in the packing shed? It wouldn’t be permanent, but it would take you past Christmas.”
“I would be terribly interested,” she said and then felt heat going to her face. Good thing her tanned skin wouldn’t show red. Did she have to sound so eager?”
“Good! Consider yourself hired then. You can start as soon as want to after the picking’s finished.”
“The day after?”
“Sure, if you want. Don’t you think you’ll want a day or two off?”
“Probably not,” Ruth said.
Then the heavy silence descended again.
“Are you sure you’re up to picking today?” Bo said at last. “I’m wondering if you weren’t more shaken up yesterday than you’re letting on.”
Good. If he wanted to interpret today’s uneasiness as a product of yesterday’s fall, she was more than willing to let him though she had to be truthful.
“I am perfectly well and ready to go picking today. No ill effects at all. Honest,” she said.
"Okay, if you're sure ..." he said.
Then more silence.
The few minutes it took to arrive at the orchard felt like they would never end.
* * *
When Ruth started her first day of apple-sorting at the packing shed, she was surprised to see Philippa Handy, lunch pail in hand, standing outside the large, metal building, waiting for the doors to open.
“Well, hello, Phil,” Ruth said, delighted. “How long have you been working here?”
“Just starting today,” Phil said solemnly.
“Me, too,” Ruth said. “We’ll learn the job together.”
Phil didn’t answer. She looked around herself uncertainly, a little worried frown between her brows.
Ruth didn’t want to ask her if it was her first job, but she couldn’t remember Phil having held any other jobs before.
Ruth hadn’t been in Arrowhead to go through high school with the rest of her class, but she’d heard the story a time or two. After failing out of grade nine arithmetic for the third time, Phil had quietly disappeared from the high school rolls.
Even if Phil had gathered the courage to apply for work at any of the local businesses, it was unlikely any of them would have hired her.
But Bo had given her a chance. Ruth couldn’t help the warmth that the thought roused in her – a little throb of pride as though Bo belonged to her in some way (which he didn’t). But it was positive pleasure to be able to call such a man her friend.
She’d do her best to help Phil out and ensure she made a success of her first job. Together, they wouldn’t let Bo down. He wouldn’t be sorry he’d hired Phil; Ruth would make sure of it.
* * *
It was more work than she’d imagined to make sure Phil succeeded at her first job.
The job wasn’t complicated, but Phil was prone to fits of wool-gathering. Ruth worked next to her on the sorting line so she could keep an eye on her.
And Phil needed it. Ruth would often look up to find Phil distracted and gawking around at all the other workers.
“Phil,” she’d say in an undertone, and Phil would hastily lower her eyes to the apples slipping by on the conveyor belt.
Bo asked Ruth privately how Phil was doing.
“She’ll work out just fine,” Ruth said. She was determined she would.
“Thanks,” Bo said, looking meaningfully at her. “I’ve noticed you helping her. Eddie wasn’t sure about me taking her on, but I told him I was sure she could do it, and I’d be responsible for her. I appreciate what you’re doing. I know she’s trying hard. I really want this to work out for her. Give her a bit of confidence, maybe, if she can see this one through.”
“And she will,” Ruth said.
“I think so, too,” Bo said. “If you keep helping her out. I know you’re quite capable of doing your own work and helping her do hers, too, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t too much for you if I count on you to keep her on task.”
“I can handle it,” Ruth said. “She’s not doing badly, really. Just needs a little reminder now and again. It will probably get easier for her over time.”
“Thanks,” Bo said again.
It never did come naturally to Philippa to keep her mind on her job, but between Ruth and Bo, she held on to her job till the end of the season and collected her last pay with a little flush of triumph at the words of commendation Eddie Hoffstetter gave to every worker as he passed out the final cheques.
* * *
It was two or three weeks since Ruth had fallen off the ladder ... and since she had been busy convincing herself that it was the only tumble she’d taken.
Her mother-in-law sensed something in the wind.
“Why don’t we have Bo over for supper one night, celebrate the end of apple harvest?” she said to Ruth one day.
“Fine by me. As long as Lily doesn't object to seeing him or he doesn't object to seeing her, and I don't suppose either of them would object. All ancient history between them, anyways,” Ruth answered.
“Find out what evening would be good for him when you see him today, will you?”
“Maybe you could ask him,” Ruth said casually.
“Why on earth would I ...? You see him every day. No reason I should ask him when you see him every day, is there? What’s going on with the two of you? Did you have a squabble?”
“No, no, of course not,” Ruth said, “I just thought ... I mean, maybe it would be ... well, it was your idea. I mean, you’re doing the cooking. You should do the inviting. I don’t want him to think ... I want him to know it isn’t just me asking him,” Ruth finished lamely.
“Ruth ...”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” Ruth said, laughing.
“You know what I mean.”
“This sounds ominous.”
“Well, I don’t want you to think I’m prying into your business.”
Ruth gave her a long look.
“After all we’ve been through together, do you really imagine I have any business that isn’t your business as well?”
“Well, but I’m not sure that’s how it should be. You should have the right to a life of your own. I shouldn’t have to know all of your business.”
“Well, but you do. And if you didn’t, I’d want you to, anyways. So fire away. Ask me anything you like.”
“All right then. What’s going on with you and Bo? Something’s happened.”
“Wha'd'you mean?”
“I mean, I’ve noticed him. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m not quite blind yet. He’s said something to you, hasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And?”
“And ... what answer did you give him?”
“Answer? I'm not sure what answer I gave him. I wasn't even sure what the question was or if he got around to asking me any questions. But, to be honest, I suppose I did make it clear to him that I could never ... see him in that way – that I could never feel about him the way he would want me to. And he promised me then that the subject would be closed forever between us. He'd never bother me about it anymore.”
“Oh.” Her mother-in-law looked down at her hands in her lap.
“You sound disappointed.”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
“How could you be? Graham's ... I’ve only been widowed for two months. Surely you wouldn’t think ... It wouldn’t be right ...”
“Well, sure, I admit it’s too soon. But the decisive answer you gave
him, well, it doesn’t leave much room for hope, does it? I mean, I know you pretty well by now, and you’re not one to change your mind ever, are you?”
“Not usually,” Ruth said, not catching Mom’s eye.
"I know you must have a lot of fear when you think of letting yourself feel anything for anyone ever again, but I can't help wishing that if you were to find someone else someday that it could be someone like Bo. He's a godly man, a man of faith. I believe that was what Graham lacked and why he couldn't be the husband to you he should've been. We've never talked very much before about what you believe. I guess you know what I believe, and I've always thought we share those beliefs. But Graham didn't share our faith. I can only hope and pray he came to in the end. It makes a marriage hard if two people don't share the most important thing in the world. But you and Bo would have that common ground if such a time came."
"I think you're right, Mom. About Graham, I mean. That was probably a big part of what was lacking in our marriage. We didn't share that common ground. I regret it now, that I didn't try harder with him. I didn't want to antagonize him, so I'd say nothing. And I should have. Course, I didn't know much about it all back when I married him. It was still pretty new to me. I've been familiar with what the Bible has to say all my life, but somehow the main point of it hadn't sunk in. If Graham and I had shared that understanding, I think you're right that it would have made all the difference."
"Don't take that on yourself, Ruth. I'm his mother. I could have tried harder with him, too. But, like you say, I didn't like to antagonize him either. And he could be antagonistic any time the subject came anywhere near things of faith. I don't know. Maybe I should've pushed a little more with him. Or maybe it wouldn't have helped. Ultimately, we all make our own choices, and Graham knew the truth even if he chose to do nothing about it. Well, we'll never know where he was really at. Not in this life, anyway."
The subject of Bo dropped, and Ruth felt only slightly guilty about not coming completely clean with Mom when she said that she didn't "usually" change her mind. After all, she hadn’t changed her mind. Something had changed, but it wasn’t her mind. And whatever it was that had changed wouldn’t last long. Surely not!
Neither one of them got around to asking Bo for supper on that occasion.
Chapter 26
Mom had convinced Ruth to sing in the Christmas cantata at the church.
"But I don't know how to read music," Ruth had protested.
"Don't worry. You can learn the parts by ear. Most of the songs will be familiar ones, anyway. When Mr. Neudorf hears your voice, he won't let you get away without joining. My goodness, they forced me to join, and I sing like an old crow. I can read a little music even though I can't sing, so together we'll be a perfect team. You can sing even if you can't read the notes, and I'll help you learn the parts. Mr. Neudorf is nearly desperate to get more sopranos." (Ralph Neudorf was the choir director.)
So Ruth found herself part of the Christmas choir.
During the first song at the first practice, Mr. Neudorf moved closer to the soprano section and leaned toward Ruth.
"Sing up, Ruth. I can't quite pick out your voice," he said as the song finished.
"Oh, but I don't know the song. It'll take a few times through for me to learn it."
"Well, then, let's try 'O Little Town of Bethlehem' next then. You must know that one."
Ruth sang. But shyly.
Mr. Neudorf leaned toward her again.
"Let's try it again, and this time through, I want to hear everyone!" he said, looking significantly at Ruth.
When the song finished the second time through, he turned to her.
"Ruth, I think we ought to feature your voice somehow. How would you like to take a solo verse in 'O Little Town?' "
"A solo? I don't ... I've never ... I don't sing for people."
"Well, then, it's time you started," the choir director told her and ended the discussion.
Just like that, Ruth found herself with a solo part. And terrified to have it. To make matters worse, her self-consciousness around Bo had not lessened noticeably. As she quavered her way through her solo verse week after week, grimacing at the nervousness she could hear in her voice, she was horribly, uncomfortably aware of Bo, listening from the bass section.
* * *
And then there was life with Lily.
The hardest thing was watching the life grow inside of Lily. That life that Lily hadn't deserved, hadn't wanted, and didn't treasure – a life that was a little of Lily and a little of Graham and still wholly other.
And the life that had grown inside of Ruth for only those few, short weeks was somewhere else. She was sure it was a good place, and she wouldn't be sorry in the end about it, but for now, all she could think was that the place was a place where she would never be able to feel that life moving inside of her or someday stroke its rosy cheeks as it slept.
And it was hard. It was hard to listen to Lily complain about a sore back and swollen feet and all the clothes she could no longer wear.
If she thinks this stage is hard, Ruth thought, how will she manage sleepless nights and crying bouts that won't stop and endless diapers to be washed?
Ruth was afraid she knew the answer to that question. Lily would no doubt manage those difficulties the way she'd managed all her difficulties so far. By letting someone else manage her difficulties for her.
The thought irked. Yes, life with Lily was not easy. No doubt about it.
And yet, underneath were the everlasting arms. Ruth found that strength outside of herself, buoying her along when she was sure she'd had all she could take of Lily Turnbull. Grace for each moment. She knew she could rely on that same grace to carry her through sleepless nights, crying bouts that wouldn't stop, and endless diapers to be washed.
* * *
The baby was due around the end of the second week of December according to Lily's best calculations.
That date came and went. Lily continued to complain about her sore back and her swollen feet and her increasing girth. She no longer left the house, ashamed to be seen, though Ruth couldn't understand why she should be more ashamed now than when she had first arrived back in Arrowhead. But perhaps it was simply the wound her vanity would have received to appear in public looking as big as a house.
And Lily was looking, if not quite house-like, at least comparable to a small bungalow.
"That's going to be a sizable lad. Or lass," Dr. Moffet told Lily calmly at her last regular check-up, a week before she was due.
“Any time now,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll hope to hear from you by the end of the week.”
But the end of the week arrived, and Dr. Moffet was not called for.
Lily grumbled, and Mom pointedly suggested a little exercise. Perhaps some vacuuming or dusting. But Lily ignored the suggestion.
Then the end of another week came, and still Dr. Moffet wasn’t called for. That was the evening of the twentieth of December.
That evening, a light snow began to fall.
“It’s beautiful out. You should come for a walk with me, Mom. Come out and enjoy it,” Ruth said, bringing in a snowy armful of kindling for the fire. She’d paused in the midst of her wood-splitting to absorb the sight of the snow, floating down like the feathers of an angel, its colours glittering in the light from the uncurtained porch window against the faintly pink-tinged night sky.
“It’s pretty enough now, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see it turn heavy before morning,” Mom prophesied. “We haven’t had a good snowstorm this year yet. We’re due for one. And from the looks of that sky, this could be it.”
By morning, Mom was proven to be no false prophet. There was a clear foot and a half on the ground that hadn’t been there the night before. The snow was falling lightly again, having spent its fury overnight on a surprised Arrowhead Valley.
"Good thing it's a Sunday. Don't think I'd be making it into work at the packing shed today, at any rate. Doesn't look like you and I
'll be going to church. Wonder when they'll get the road out to the farm cleared," Ruth said to Mom as she turned pancakes.
"Wonder if her highness will want breakfast this morning," Mom said with a flip.
"Seems like she'd rather have the sleep."
"Well, I can tell you one thing. She's not getting breakfast in bed, and if she can't get up when it's hot and ready, she can find herself something to eat by the time she rolls out of bed."
"Suppose I could call her and find out if she wants pancakes with us. They are a lot better hot."
"You can do as you like, but I don't imagine she'll thank you for it. Probably snap your head off for disturbing her beauty sleep."
"All the same ..." Ruth said, climbing the stairs, calling Lily's name.
Lily was already awake. She rolled over and looked at Ruth with obvious distress in her face.
"Lily! What is it? Is it the baby?"
"I don't feel too well," Lily moaned.
"Are you having pains?"
"Off and on."
"How bad are they?"
"Oh, they're great. Just fine and dandy. Terrific. Is there such a thing as good pain?"
"Let me get Mom," Ruth said and ran.
"Is her highness going to grace us with her presence?" Mom asked.
"No, but the baby might," Ruth said, laughing. She couldn't help feeling a little excited after all.
"You'd better get the doctor on the phone."
"Should I call him this soon? Won't it be hours yet? Maybe you'd better check on her. I have no idea how far along she is. I can't get a straight answer out of her as to how bad the pain is or how close together the pains are."
Mom sighed. "I'll go talk to her."
She came back in a few minutes.
"I think you'd better call the doc," she said.
"How would he get out here? By dog sled?"
"Well, you'd better call him, anyway. See what he says."
But Ruth heard only silence on the other end of the receiver when she lifted it.
"Phone's dead," she announced.
As she said the words, the lights and the radio abruptly stopped on a dime.
"Perfect," Mom grumbled. "And me with four half-cooked pancakes. We might as well eat the ones that are ready while we wait for the hydro to come back on."