Ignited

by Lily Cahill

  Cora’s bakery was next to the butcher, and Ruth ducked inside, needing a moment away from the scrutiny. The inside was brightly lit from the large windows, the paint a cheery yellow. Everything was spotlessly clean, the tile floor shining, the tables pushed up against the wall immaculately kept, just waiting for someone to sit down. Behind the counter, Cora waved. She had a dash of flour across the tip of her nose and over her cheek.

  “Hi there! What can I do for you?”

  Ruth shrugged, bashful. “I just need a moment away from everyone outside, mostly.”

  “I understand that,” Cora said. Ruth blinked. If anyone could comprehend the strangeness that was happening in her life, it was probably Cora. No one else among the Independents had grown up on the west side of town, as they had. No one else was now forced to trust a group of people who had shunned them most of their lives.

  It was working for Cora. Ruth hoped it might work for her, as well.

  “If you need to hide a few minutes, be my guest.” Cora wiped at her face with the back of her wrist, but it only added a smear of blue frosting to her cheek. “I’m just finishing up this batch of cookies.”

  Ruth nodded and then backed away from the front window so she was hidden from passersby.

  The silence stretched out long between them. Nearly three years separated them, so Ruth had never had a chance to know Cora well, even if they were from the same neighborhood. Ruth had always been closer to Butch in age and had shared some classes with him while he’d still attended high school, but she had gone out of her way to make sure they never interacted.

  “Do you need any help?” Ruth asked. It didn’t feel natural to stand by and watch Cora work without offering to do her part.

  Cora grinned at her from over the counter. “You wrangling for a job?”

  Ruth blushed and looked down. “I just meant—”

  “You’re a guest, Ruth. You don’t have to do anything except maybe eat this.” She lifted up a cookie and passed it to Ruth over the countertop. It was still warm. “I played with an old recipe, so be honest about it.”

  Taking a cautious bite, Ruth’s eyes fell closed as the sweetness burst over her tongue. It tasted like a variation of the snickerdoodle, although she was not positive she’d identified it correctly. Her life had never afforded her many opportunities to eat sweets.

  “This is delicious, Cora,” Ruth said, taking another big bite. It was so good she nearly forgot her manners and spoke with her mouth full. “You are so talented.”

  Cora grew still, and a soft smile settled on her face. “You think?”

  Ruth nodded. “I’ll take a dozen, if you can spare them.”

  “Of course! They’ll need a few minutes to cool, though,” Cora laughed. “I think the crowd has probably moved on, if you want to finish your shopping. I’ll box these and you can come get them when you’re done.”

  “Thank you,” Ruth said. It felt good to grin with Cora, like they were friends. Ruth had been alone for so long. The sudden arrival of so many new companions was something she could hardly comprehend.

  She waved to Cora as she left the shop and headed next door to the butcher, picking up some beef for dinner and some lunch meat so she could make Henry sandwiches for the office. The thought struck her as particularly charming—that she could be the one who helped him take care of himself while he was out taking care of others.

  The butcher had an array of sandwiches lining a glass cabinet beneath the register, and she looked over them carefully. “Could I also have one of those turkey and provolone sandwiches, please?”

  He added it to her purchases and read her the total. It took a good chunk of the money Henry had given her; she would have to budget more carefully, in the future.

  In the future with Henry. The future she was going to share with Henry. It was a beautiful idea.

  She stopped by the bakery and insisted on paying Cora for the cookies, even when Cora tried to give them to her for free. She picked one out to go with the sandwich, frosted with a blue, smiling face that stared up at her as she made her way toward the clinic.

  How surprised would he be, that she’d thought to do this for him!

  As Ruth walked up to the clinic, she could hear the sound of angry voices. The front door was still hanging wide open, and though she could not make out any words, it was clear there were two people inside attempting to keep their voices low as they hissed at each other. She had spent her life on the wrong end of too many arguments to want to interrupt one that didn’t involve her. But she worried for Henry—had something happened? Was he angry with someone?

  She crept closer, hovering on the bottom step as she peeked inside. The gray-haired lady who worked at the front desk was arguing with Henry’s grandfather. She motioned above herself, and said something about how he needed to be back upstairs, how he shouldn’t have come down. Ruth watched them for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not they would settle down or if she should come back later, when the woman glanced to the right.

  Their eyes connected.

  Ruth ducked down, hoping the look had been all in her head, but a moment later the woman stood in the doorway, staring down the steps. She was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes—the dregs of her argument were still weighing her down, but she didn’t look displeased with Ruth.

  “Miss Baker, I was wondering if I would see you again today,” the woman said.

  Ruth searched her mind, frantically trying to remember her name, but nothing came to her.

  The older woman seemed to notice Ruth’s panic. Her face softened. “I’m Mrs. McClure, dear. Won’t you come in?”

  “Thank you,” Ruth said. She stepped inside, her eyes darting over Mrs. McClure’s shoulder to Henry’s grandfather, who was still standing in the waiting room. He didn’t look entirely well, his shoulders sagging and his color gray.

  The three of them stood for a moment, staring at anything but each other.

  Finally, Ruth could no longer take the silence. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was out shopping and remembered that Henry hadn’t brought anything for lunch, so I thought I’d bring something by.” She reached into the sack that Mr. Powell had given her and produced the sandwich and cookie.

  “He’s in with a patient at the moment,” Dr. Pinkerton said. He leaned against the front desk, as if he needed help supporting his weight. “I’m afraid I wasn’t feeling my best this morning, so Henry was kind enough to step in and let me have the time off. Now he, Mrs. McClure, and Patrice have conspired together to get me to skip out on an entire day of work. I’m sorry if you heard us arguing about it.”

  “They say doctors make the worst patients,” Mrs. McClure muttered, glaring at Dr. Pinkerton as she went to sit behind her desk.

  Dr. Pinkerton waved his hand at her, dismissive, and she huffed and rolled her eyes in return. They were clearly comfortable with each other and had the kind of friendship that required a certain amount of squabbling. Although they’d been in the heat of an argument not five minutes earlier, they already seemed fine once again.

  “Well, I can leave this with you, if Henry isn’t able to see me,” Ruth said, holding up the food in her hands. “Or I can put it in his office, if you don’t mind my being in the back, but it’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable with that.”

  “Nonsense. You’re welcome back there, since you’re Henry’s girl.” Mrs. McClure raised her eyebrows, and Ruth had to fight back the flush crawling up her neck.

  Dr. Pinkerton blinked slowly, looking from Mrs. McClure to Ruth and back again. He grinned. “So this is the girl that has our Henry acting like such a fool?” He let out a mighty laugh, but it gave way to a cough. It took him a moment to recover. “Well, that’s wonderful news. Patrice says you two are quite serious.”

  Ruth’s stomach clenched uneasily. There were already rumors? She’d only been outside the house for a few hours!

  “Not to worry, young lady,” he said, shaking a finger toward M
rs. McClure. “That’s just all this old biddy’s conjecture.”

  Mrs. McClure rolled up a paper on her desk and smacked his arm, and he pretended to rub at the wound as he smiled at Ruth. “I will talk to Henry, make sure he does right by you.”

  Dr. Pinkerton had mistaken her concern for one that Henry wasn’t serious. Strangely, it was the only thing Ruth wasn’t all that worried about.

  “And I’m glad you came in,” the doctor said. “How have you been feeling?”

  Ruth blinked. “Feeling?”

  “Didn’t you come in a few weeks ago? Mrs. McClure mentioned it.”

  Ruth looked to Mrs. McClure, but the old woman just shrugged. There was no one in the waiting room, but it still felt weird to discuss this in the open, where anyone could walk in and hear.

  “She said something about some incomplete paperwork,” Dr. Pinkerton said.

  “Oh. Well, I am afraid I don’t know much about the paperwork aspect,” Ruth said. She suspected it hadn’t been finished because she had run out on the end of the appointment, but she didn’t want to tell him that.

  “You have me there,” he laughed.

  The silence descended upon them again, and Ruth held up the lunch sack. “Sorry, but would it be okay if I—”

  “Of course!” Dr. Pinkerton stepped aside and ushered her toward the back, keeping in step with her pace. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to be acquainted before now. I’m looking forward to getting to know the girl who’s managed to capture my Henry.”

  Ruth flushed, eyes toward the ground. When he stopped outside one of the rooms and opened the door, she could see Henry’s office. Neat as a pin, just his like home. He felt more present here, however, in the way he kept his pencils in a neat line, his stack of well-thumbed medical journals in a pile in the middle of his desk.

  “I would like to know you better, as well, sir,” she said. She managed not to stumble over the words, despite her nerves. This was Henry’s grandfather, the most important person in his world. Making a good impression on him was essential.

  He smiled, but it drifted from his face. “About that medical appointment, I wanted to check—”

  Ruth dropped Henry’s lunch on the desk with a thud and began to make a beeline toward the door back to the hallway. Even though Dr. Pinkerton was older, he still managed to beat her there.

  “Now, now. Don’t worry. There’s nothing wrong, I just—I heard a rumor, about the mine being the place where everyone … practices. You know who I mean.”

  He kept his hands at his side, everything about his stance open and friendly, but Ruth still felt guarded.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went out for a walk late at night.” He smiled, self-deprecating. “That’s probably why I’m so worn down today. My own fault. But I saw a few people heading that direction, and I could have sworn one of them was you.”

  Ruth froze. She couldn’t look up, couldn’t catch his eye. Her words were stuck in her throat.

  “Now, I’m not accusing you of anything,” he said. His voice was soft, gentle. It was probably the voice Henry had heard a hundred times growing up. “But I wanted you to know that if you need help, you can come to me at any time. All right?”

  Instinct told Ruth to run as fast as she could, but logic kept her at a stand still. He wasn’t threatening her, he wasn’t upset … he was trying to help, if she wanted it.

  She was too surprised to want help.

  “I—I ought to go.”.

  “Tell me, did you get sick right after that Firelight Festival, a few months back?” Dr. Pinkerton persisted. Ruth tried to edge around him to no avail.

  “I don’t remember,” she lied. She felt like she had to be as red as a tomato. “That was a while ago.”

  Dr. Pinkerton nodded, frowning. “Well, you would remember that illness. Trust me.” He hummed. “Maybe I’m wrong. But the offer still stands. If you ever need anything, please let me know.”

  “I will.” Her voice was small.

  At that moment, an examination room door opened. Henry’s voice echoed down the hall as he chatted amiably with someone who sounded like an older woman. They were both silent as Henry said good-bye and then came back to his office.

  Henry halted in surprise at seeing her, eyes going wide and face breaking into a grin. He leaned over to kiss her cheek, looking expectantly at the sandwich she’d left on the desk.

  “Is that for me?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

  Ruth tried to keep her tone upbeat. “I noticed that you forgot to pack something this morning.”

  “This looks delicious. Thank you.” He gave her a hopeful look. “Do you want to sit and have lunch with me?”

  “I don’t know,” Ruth said. She glanced over at Dr. Pinkerton, who was still watching her carefully. “I didn’t bring anything for myself. I think I’ll just go home.”

  Henry pretended to pout for a moment, but nodded. “All right. Well, I will see you later, then.” He leaned forward as if to kiss her good-bye, then hesitated, turning to look at his grandfather. Dr. Pinkerton looked exasperated and turned so that he wasn’t facing them.

  With a quick peck on the lips, Ruth rushed out the door. She practically ran the whole way back to Henry’s house. It felt like someone was watching her the entire time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Henry

  It was days later before Henry finally worked up the nerve to see his mother. He expected to catch hell for not attending the last family dinner. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want him there, she still expected him to come.

  None of that mattered, however. Ruth was right. He was not able to choose his relations. He was done trying to impress his mother for the sake of his grandfather. Not when it made him so uncomfortable, so unhappy.

  It was time to be in charge of his own life. And that started with Ruth.

  Henry stood in front of Mrs. McClure, arms wide. He turned a slow circle. “How do I look?”

  “Exactly the same as when you walked in here this morning wearing that outfit,” she replied, giving him only a cursory glance and then turning back to her paperwork.

  “Come on, be serious. I’m going to see my mother.”

  At that, Mrs. McClure’s head darted up. Her eyes narrowed. “I will never understand why you put yourself through so much for that—that—”

  Henry cut in. “You do realize you’re talking about my mother? Your boss’ daughter?”

  “I will call a witch a witch, no matter who they are related to.” She straightened in her seat, regarding him more seriously. “The knot on your tie is crooked.”

  Huffing a sigh, Henry loosened it, retying it as he spoke. “She’s been through a lot.”

  Mrs. McClure stood and moved in close, slapping Henry’s hands away. She tied a neat Windsor knot, then took a step back to inspect her work. Henry touched the fabric at his throat; it certainly felt nicer than any of his attempts.

  “Thanks, Mrs. M.”

  “There’s just no excuse,” she continued, as if she had not heard him at all. “Loss is hard, and losing your father like she did—I can’t imagine her suffering. But you pick up. You move on. You don’t punish your son for twenty-nine years.” She sat down primly and turned back to her ledger. “She’s a cold woman, and I won’t pretend otherwise.”

  Henry ducked his head. He never knew what to do when Mrs. McClure talked like this. He wished she knew Ruth better. The pair of them would probably get along.

  “I’m not going for dinner. I’m going to ask for the family ring,” Henry blurted. He couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He was going to get the ring, had already schemed with Briar to get Ruth safely out of the house for a few hours so he could set up a surprise for her. Just dinner—nothing fancy, but still heartfelt.

  Mrs. McClure’s hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. “Really?”

  Feeling suddenly bashful, Henry nodded. “Wish me luck?”

  A complicated series of emotions crossed Mrs. McClure�
�s face. She stood suddenly and enveloped Henry in a hug, her hand messing with his hair. “Of course I wish you luck.” She pulled away, a smile making the wrinkles on her face more prominent. “But I’m sure you won’t need it.”

  The walk to Highledge took less time than usual. Henry’s nerves drove him forward. The only reason he didn’t break out into a run was because he didn’t feel like listening to a lecture on why it was important to present a good appearance. The grand old Victorians came into view as he rounded the bend, his mother’s home standing proudly on the right side of the street.

  As he approached the front door, Henry took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  He knocked. Nothing happened.

  There were no footsteps echoing just inside the front foyer, no muffled shout for him to wait. He sighed and walked to the far edge of the porch so he could get a look at the driveway. His mother’s car gleamed in the bright summer sunshine. Louise had never been the type to walk when she could drive, so he knew she was home.

  He went back to the door and knocked gain, more forcefully this time.

  “Come on, Mom …,” he muttered to himself, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet.

  Finally, the door swung open.

  His mother’s face was a mask, letting no trace of emotion through.

  “Henry,” she said, her tone cool. She did not move away from the doorway, so he couldn’t get in. “This isn’t a good time.”

  He frowned. “I just need ten minutes.”

  With a heavy sigh, she let him in.

  Once he was over the threshold, she took off, walking briskly through the foyer and into the sitting room. Henry followed behind, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. His mother sat down on the couch, sinking into the red velvet cushions, and he perched on the chair opposite. Everything looked as it always had. Nothing had changed for as long as Henry could remember. The place was more a shrine than a house.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Louise asked, tone brisk.