Patterns of Swallows (39 page)

*
* *

It never rains but it pours.

At the beginning of her second
week in her new job of training Bo in the art of keeping books, Ruth
was to learn the truth of the old adage.

An easy comradeship had
developed quickly between the two of them in their evenings together.
Bo was good company. They often found themselves laughing over some
childhood incident or over Bo making fun of Francois or over Ruth
making fun of Bo and his bookkeeping skills (or lack thereof).
They'd known each other so long that Ruth found herself letting down
her guard with him – a guard almost as habitual as certain
famous ones at a certain famous palace.

But there had been a time or two
when something had signalled her toward caution. Once or twice,
she'd turned suddenly to catch his eyes on her, and he'd turned away
a little too quickly.

She told herself it was her
imagination. Who was she to go around thinking that every man she
came into contact with must find her irresistible? The whole idea
was too ridiculous. Bo's glances meant nothing. Obviously.

Yet, in a subconscious kind of
way, it bothered her that Bo seemed to avoid looking her in the eye,
and when he did, something in his look bothered her. As though he
was trying not to look at her and found he couldn't succeed.

There were one or two moments of
uneasiness for her, but she brushed them off. They were old friends
and nothing more. Of course there was nothing to worry about.

That was what she told herself
after their first week of working together over the packing-shed
books.

However, by their second week
together, she discovered there was indeed something to worry about.

*
* *

"Dat's jus' d' way I know
to do it," Bo said in his best French Canadian, trying to
justify a particular bookkeeping decision.

"Okay, Francois," Ruth
said, laughing. Bo's imitation was outrageously bad. "But I
don't care if that's the way you know to do it. It's the wrong way.
See? Totals have to be recorded here. Got that?"

"I shoulda chosen a
different profession. I should've been a farmer or something. Or
maybe the manager of an apple packing shed. Don't ask me how I ended
up doing the bookkeeping for this place. That was not part of the
deal when I got hired here. I've never had the patience for all this
nitpicky kind of stuff, dotting your Is and crossing your Ts, whether
it makes sense or not. That's just the way it's always been done, so
that's the way it has to be done," he grumbled without meaning
it.

"You? Ha! You always had
more patience than anyone I ever knew. Remember that carving of a
bird you did that took first place at the school fair? That was a
fantastic piece of work. Must've taken you months. Don't tell me
you have no patience."

"I mean I have no patience
for things that I can't see the point of. There was a point to
carving that bird. It was something I enjoyed doing. I still have
that bird, too. I found it in a drawer I was cleaning out a few
months ago. It doesn't look quite as impressive now as it did in my
memory. Seeing it isn't quite as grand as I was remembering it, kinda
glad now I never did work up the nerve to give it to you."

"You were going to give it
to me?"

"I carved it with you in
mind."
"Me?"

"It reminded me of you
somehow. I thought about you constantly when I was working on that
carving."

Ruth said nothing, turning her
eyes away.

"You must've known I had
the most terrific crush on you back then. The first girl I ever fell
for," he said lightly.

"No, how could I have known
that."

"I assumed it was so
obvious everyone knew it."

"You had a funny way of
being obvious."

"You couldn't tell by the
fact that I always showed up wherever you were, always trying to
carry your books or do anything I could for you?"

"I
assumed you were just being nice. You were nice to everyone, as I
recall. You were especially nice to me, though, come to think of it.
I remember you wading into Barbors' pond to rescue my favourite hair
ribbon after Billy Gorling threw it in there. That's why it wasn't
obvious you had a crush on me. Little boys with crushes aren't
nice
to little girls. They do things like throw little girls' hair
ribbons into ponds. Not go wading in after them. How was I to know
you weren't like other little boys?"

To
herself, Ruth said,
The
only boy I ever noticed back then was Graham
–
my
first
and only crush.

Bo
went on, the moment lost to reminisces, bookkeeping forgotten. He
was definitely in a chatty mood. "Then you went away for those
seven years. Guess I had time to get over you somewhere in there. I
suppose there were a few other crushes I had after that. I was
completely bowled over when I thought that Lily Turnbull would have
me. I would never have dared to go thinking of
her
if she hadn't started it, I can tell ya. I knew she was completely
out of my class. Guess that was the appeal there. I was flattered,
and it went to my head, pure and simple."

"You're right, you're not
in her class. She's in a class all her own. And I mean that as a
compliment to you. Not to Lily," Ruth said drily.

She wanted to take back the
words as soon as she'd said them. It seemed that the scales were off
Bo's eyes as far as Lily was concerned, but all the same, she knew
how she flared up when Mars criticized Graham openly. Maybe Bo had
some lingering feeling for Lily.

"Sorry," she said
quickly. "I shouldn't've said that."

Bo laughed.

"You always were one to say
just about anything."

"Anyways, why shouldn't
Lily have noticed you? You were the best catch around," Ruth
said candidly, proving the truth of Bo's last statement.

Except
Graham
,
a piece of her mind wanted to add loyally. But her heart wasn't in
it. Why should she say that to Bo? It would sound hopelessly
idealistic, considering how Graham's story had ended. And why should
she say it to herself? It wasn't true. Bo was by far the better
man. Graham just happened to be the one she loved.

Ruth wasn't sure she should ask,
but she did anyway.

"Did you ever have regrets?
I mean, that the engagement broke off?"

Bo looked startled.

"No. Not regrets. Not
about the engagement ending. Maybe about it ever starting," he
said.

"If you don't mind my
asking, what ended it?" Ruth said. There was a part of her that
still desperately wanted answers while fearing them at the same time.
But she needed to know the truth about Graham and Lily. What was
behind their abrupt break-up in the first place? Was there
foundation to the town gossip which said that Lily had gone after Bo
to make Graham jealous and Graham had pursued Ruth to reciprocate?
The question that nagged her day and night after Graham had left
still nagged. Had Graham ever really loved her?

Bo shrugged.

"Time. Getting to know
each other. Somehow we were planning to marry each other without
really knowing each other," he laughed. "We were
completely wrong for each other, and that started to be obvious soon
after we got engaged. She wasn't crazy about the idea that I wanted
to be a farmer. That profession wasn't prestigious enough for her.
I would've made more money as a lumber man. Her dad offered me a
good job at the mill, but I turned him down. That didn't go over
well. Then she hated the fact that I was supporting my mom and the
kids. She tried to convince me that someone else could look after
them. That didn't go over well with me. And, I dunno, about a
million different things. She did the deed and broke it off, but we
both knew it had to happen."

"Is it painful to have her
living ... back in Arrowhead?" Ruth asked.

"Not for me. I don't ever
run into her. I can't imagine what you're ... I can't imagine you
doing what you're doing. Talk about painful! But then, that's just
like you, isn't it? I remember you taking in every stray puppy,
kitten, rodent, you name it, that crossed your path."

"Yeah, except that I was
never allowed to have pets, so I had to hide them. Sometimes I had
quite the zoo living in our old hay shed. I'd always save bits from
my meals to take out and feed them." They were both laughing
now.

"There's part of me that
still feels responsible for Lily and what becomes of her. It's not
like I don't care what happens to her," Bo said, sobering
suddenly. "I want you to know that it means a lot to me that
you took her in. If there's anything I can do to help ..."

"You're doing it,"
Ruth said. "You think I don't know you rigged this job just to
give me extra income?"

"Ha!" Bo said. "You
can see for yourself how needed you are here. Believe me, I know I'm
the one owing all the favours. It's not easy to a man's pride to be
obligated, but I am, and pride or no pride, I want you to know I'm
grateful. Maybe you don't want me to bring it up, but it kills me
not to let you know I appreciate what you did for Mama and the kids.
I know what a sacrifice... "

"Wha'd'you mean?" Ruth
asked, her heart pounding through the wall of her chest. How could
Bo have known? She'd never told a soul about the reason she was
fired from Turnbulls'.

"You know exactly what I
mean. Don't play innocent! You must think I'm not very bright if
you thought I wouldn't figure it out. I haven't said anything to
Mama or anyone else, don't worry. I figured you wanted it kept
secret. But it was quite obvious to me that the whole thing was your
doing. First of all, Ruth MacKellum begins working in the office at
Turnbulls'. Then suddenly, a month or two later, word gets out
around town that Gus Turnbull has escorted Ruth MacKellum out of her
job onto her ear. The whole town knows that he's hopping mad at her
about something except he won't tell anyone what it is. Then, right
around that time, Mama gets a very unexpected cheque in the mail
from, guess who? Gus Turnbull. For the whole amount of money he
owed her. It's as plain as the nose on your face that Gus didn't
have a miraculous change of heart overnight all on his own. I may
not be a bookkeeping genius, but I can put two and two together. I'm
sorry we lost you your job, but I can't be sorry that someone in this
town found the guts to stand up to Gus Turnbull."

"Oh," Ruth said in a
small voice. It hadn't occurred to her that, of course, Bo would
know what she'd done. He was looking at her now and no looking away.
She looked away instead.

"Don't be sorry I lost that
job," she said, grimacing. "That one was no loss.
Besides, you found me this one. We'll call it square. But if we
don't quit jabbering, I might be out of this one on my ear, too. So
might you. We can take the last half hour off of our time. We
didn't do a lick of bookkeeping, I'm afraid."

"Ruth ..." Bo said,
and the tone of his voice gave her fair warning.

She met his eyes without meaning
to. What she saw there was what she was afraid to see.

"Ruth ..." he said
again.

"Well, are we done for the
evening then, or do you want to keep going?" she asked brightly,
getting up and gathering the books together without waiting for an
answer to her question.

"Ruth, I still have that
bird I carved for you."

"Sure, I'd like to see it
again," she said.

"I've still been thinking
about you too much."

"Oh?" she said,
wishing madly for something brilliant to say that could head this
thing off at the pass.

"Some things haven't
changed since we were kids. Maybe I thought those seven years when
you were away were enough to get over you, but, well ..."

"Bo, please ..."

"Listen, I'm sorry. I know
it's far too soon. I didn't mean to do this to you, put you on the
spot. Forget I said anything, okay?"

"I will. I mean, I'll
try."

"Don't forget it entirely.
Forget it for now, I mean. We'll have to talk this thing out
someday."

Ruth took a deep breath and
plunged in.

"We might as well talk it
out now, Bo."

The memory of her encounter with
Mars hung heavy on her recent memory. She didn't want to leave Bo,
for months on end, in the state of uncertainty where she had
unintentionally left Mars. She had to say what she had to say, and
she had to say it now, and she had to be clear about it.

"I have to be very honest
with you. It would be easier for both of us in the long run,"
she said. "I highly value your friendship. It's been wonderful
to laugh again. I've so enjoyed this time working with you. I enjoy
your company. And I meant what I said a minute ago about you being
the best catch around. You are a good man. You're an exceptional
man. Maybe that's the problem." She sighed.