Patterns of Swallows (46 page)

All
she heard was silence.

But
in the silence, the thought came to her.

And
if it is best, for some unknown reason, for Gabe to go and live with
the Turnbulls, are you willing for that to happen?

I
don't think I could live through that,
she answered her thoughts.
Hasn't it been enough? Haven't I been through enough? I can't lose
Gabe, too. I just can't.

And
there was only silence to answer her. There was no peace for her in
it. There was only the vise around her heart, squeezing it tighter
and tighter.

Well,
then, if that's how it has to be ... then ... I guess I have to be
willing. I've survived everything else. I guess I could survive
that, too. You'd help me. You said you'd never leave me nor forsake
me. If what You're waiting to know is who I love more, then I guess
the answer is You. Yes, even more than Gabe. I choose You.

As
soon as the decision had been made, there was an agony unlike any
other Ruth had previously experienced. It was done. Gabe would be
going to live with Turnbulls and effectually erased from her life,
and she would do nothing to fight it.

The
agony found release only in a storm of weeping, but after the tears,
the agony did find release. The vise loosened its hold. At last she
slept.

*
* *

More
weeks crept by. After her surrender of Gabriel, Ruth was able to
spend her time doing things other than waiting on tenterhooks. She
began to laugh again at Gabe's expressions and delight in his smiles.
Her heart no longer constricted with worry during every moment she
spent with the baby.

She
began to be able to focus on her job again. She slept when she was
supposed to, and she regained the weight she'd lost.

Now
she was grateful for the weeks creeping by. Every week meant one
more week with Gabriel, watching him grow, watching him learn new
things daily.

Ruth
did get the miracle she prayed and pleaded for. Not through a long,
gruelling court battle decided in their favour but in a quieter,
gentler way.

After
the day Gus Turnbull came out to the farm house, promising a custody
battle, nothing more was ever said or done by the Turnbulls in an
attempt to take and raise Gabriel. It was a miracle of omission
rather than commission.

The
legal guardianship of Mrs. MacKellum was processed and passed in due
time by those who handled such matters, and there was nothing said by
those who handled them about any contest being enacted for the
guardianship.

Ruth
never knew what had happened behind the scenes for the Turnbulls.
She came to believe that they had never really wanted to raise their
grandson.

In
that case, why had Gus created an incident in the first place? Was
it for show? Did they merely want to be able to say that they had
made an effort for the sake of the ever-keenly-observant eye of the
town? Was it for revenge? Had Gus realized the most effective way
to punish Ruth for crossing him and, what was more, for beating him
in the matter of Rahel Weaver and the money he owed her was to
threaten to take Gabriel? Or had Gus intended to fight to take
Gabriel but had feared the damaging information that may come to
light if he had pursued a court custody battle?

Ruth
never knew, but it didn't matter to her that she didn't know. All
she needed to know was that her fears over losing Gabe were gone.
And that was the true miracle. That miracle had been worked on her
behalf even before she fully realized that the miracle she had prayed
and pleaded for had also been worked on her behalf.

*
* *

Ruth
pushed the buggy down the canned goods aisle of the Co-op.

She
still hated grocery shopping and avoided it whenever possible, but
Gabriel had a cold and couldn't be brought out in the brisk
beginning-of-March weather. One member of the household needed to
grocery shop, one member of the household needed to stay home and
needed someone to stay home with him, and one member of the household
needed to stay home with him. Mom didn't drive, so Ruth was the
obvious choice to grocery shop.

Appearing
in the Co-op was less painful now than it had been. Now, when people
stopped to chat, the talk was about colic and teething and other
baby-related topics – subjects Ruth suddenly found fascinating.
Any advice was welcome if not always followed.

But
buying a few groceries did take a great deal more time these days
than it ever had.

Rounding
the corner from the canned goods aisle, Ruth narrowly avoided
crashing buggies with a person she would have much rather avoided.
Still, there was no help for it now but to say something to Edie
Turnbull – even if it was only, "Excuse me," or, "I'm
sorry."

After
the polite phrases were spoken, Ruth turned to push the buggy in the
opposite direction, her heart pounding as though she'd just finished
a marathon. Absurd how the most casual of contacts with the woman
could make the tightening-vise feeling return in an instant!

"Ruth."

She
was stunned to hear Mrs. Turnbull's voice calling her name.

"Yes?"
she said turning back, her heart rate quickening from rapid to
dangerous. Her mouth was as dry as sand.

"Do
you have a little time after you finish shopping? There's something
I'd like to talk to you about."

Here
it comes
,
Ruth thought, momentarily backsliding away from the miracle of the
peace she'd experienced for the past couple of weeks and back into
rank, stark terror.

"Don't
worry. It's not about the baby," Mrs. Turnbull said. Ruth's
heart rate returned almost to normal.

"I
wonder if you might meet me at the Willow Inn for a late lunch. My
treat, of course," Mrs. Turnbull continued.

"I've
had lunch, thank you," Ruth said, wishing desperately to avoid
the encounter.

"Tea,
then?"

"I
suppose that would be all right. I really should get home ..."

"I
won't keep you long."

There
was no escape. She might as well get it over with, whatever it was.

"All
right. I'll meet you there as soon as I finish the marketing."

"Good.
I'll see you there.”

*
* *

The
Willow Inn was the most upscale establishment in the Arrowhead
Valley.

Located
out away from the town limits on the east side of Arrow Mountain, it
overlooked a stunning view of the canyon and the Arrow River. It
boasted Arrowhead's finest accommodations and dining, and a tea shop
included on its premises did a thriving trade by drawing the upper
echelon of Arrowhead's feminine society for afternoon teas.

As
she parked her car in the lot, Ruth's mind was not on the view or the
elegance, however.

She
absentmindedly noticed the busyness of the tea room and chose a table
near the window, shielded by a wall and a large potted plant for
privacy. Whatever it was about, she couldn't imagine that Edith
Turnbull wanted the entire town of Arrowhead to know all about it.
Then she put in her order and settled in to wait for Mrs. Turnbull.

She
didn't have long to wait.

"Have
you ordered?" Mrs. Turnbull asked her.

"Yes,
thanks. I ordered a pot of tea for two with cream and sugar. I
thought you wouldn't be far behind me. Is that all right for you, or
do you take lemon?"

"Cream
and sugar is fine, thank you. I hope you'll try some of their tea
cakes. Or their raisin scones. They know how to do a first-rate tea
at the Willow. Their scones are excellent. I think they're as good
as any I've ever had in England."

"I
finished lunch not long ago, thanks. The tea will be fine."

Not
until the tea arrived and was poured and the first sip taken did Mrs.
Turnbull come to the point.

"What's
this I've been hearing about Lily having some kind of death-bed
repentance experience?"

"Oh!
You've heard that? What have you heard?"

"Really
nothing more than just that. Is there any truth to the rumours going
around?"

"I
can't imagine how those rumours got started."
"So
there's no truth to them?"

"I
didn't mean that exactly. I just meant ... I have no idea how people
could have heard anything about Lily's last moments. I haven't said
anything to anyone. Maybe Mom told a few close friends ... I suppose
she must have. Oh, yes. She would have told it to your minister, of
course – the one who took the funeral. I'm sorry if you've
been upset by the talk."

"Well,
it hasn't been pleasant exactly. One would like to think that with
all the talking people did while she was alive, they could leave her
memory alone to rest in peace now. But, of course, just give them
something to talk about, and they'll do it. It is hurtful to hear
people talking about her as though she were some heathen in danger of
hellfire, hitting the sawdust trail in her last moments. Like some
terrible sinner in need of saving. As though she wasn't a good
church member all her life and born and raised in a proper Christian
home."

Ruth
weighed her next words carefully.

"If
Lily was a good church member all her life and raised in a Christian
home, then I'm sure she was taught from an early age that we're all
sinners in need of saving. Perhaps that was why she came to find
forgiveness in the end."

"Nonsense!
Lily was a good girl at heart. Oh, I admit she made her mistakes.
One in particular, I mean. But she'd come to be very sorry for that.
She came home, after all."

Ruth
said nothing. The silence grew awkward. Was there any point in
speaking the truth to a woman as wilfully self-deceived as Edith
Turnbull? What good could it do?

"I
wanted to take her back, you know. After she came home, I mean.
Eventually. Maybe not at first, but eventually, I did want to take
her back. It was her father who refused. If it had been up to me,
the story would have gone much differently," Mrs. Turnbull said
defensively.

Ruth
still found nothing to say. She sipped her tea.

"I
can't blame you for not believing me, I suppose. I should thank you
for giving her a home. I want you to know I don't blame you for what
happened."

"Thank
you, I'm glad to hear it," Ruth said drily.

"I
suppose you did what you thought was right in leading her toward some
kind of death-bed repentance."

Ruth
cleared her throat.

"Actually,
I had nothing to do with any of it. I wasn't even with Lily at the
end. I was away fetching Dr. Moffet."

"Oh,
I see." There was another long pause. "But you do know
how it went in the end, what she said, how she was? Her mental
state, I mean?"

"More
or less. Mom told me about it."

"Did
she mention ... Did Lily say anything about her family?"

Ruth
had to be honest. Yet, for once, she tried to be tactful all the
same.

"I'm
not sure she had time to pass on last messages to her family. Of
course, her first concern was for the baby. Before I left for the
doctor, it was the last thing she said to me. She asked me to
promise her I'd look after him. When she was alone with Mom, her
main concern seemed to be to ask for forgiveness. She was very
anxious that I should know she wanted me to forgive her. She asked
Mom's forgiveness, and then she wanted to know if God could forgive
her. She didn't seem to think it was possible He could. But Mom
assured her He was not only willing; He wanted to forgive her. And I
believe Lily found that forgiveness. The last thing she said was,
'Peace.' Just that one word. Her passing was very peaceful. I saw
her an hour or so later, and the peace was still there on her face
and in the room. I wish you could have seen her just then. I wish
you could have been with her in the end. It all happened so
suddenly, though."