Patterns of Swallows (49 page)

"I
would almost think it was a matchmaking gleam if I didn't know
better."

"I'm
not sure you do know better."

"You
can't be serious! You've only just met the fellow. You know less
than nothing about him. Are you so eager to get rid of me?"

"Ha!
You're barking up the wrong tree there."

"What
on earth are you talking about then? You're speaking in riddles."

"That's
for me to know and you to find out."

But
Ruth didn't find out until James' return from Alberta a week later.

*
* *

"Are
we having company for supper?" Ruth asked, spying the third
plate on the table.

"Oh,
I told that young James Hardcastle he had to stop by for supper on
his way back to Camille from Alberta and let us know how the
interview went," Mom answered.

"What're
you up to?"

"Camille's
not all that far away from Arrowhead. I thought it would be nice for
the two of you to renew your acquaintance while he's still there. I
know it would only take the slightest amount of encouragement for him
to hop in that car of his and come down for a visit now and again.
He seems like a very presentable young man. Very likeable, really.
But probably not terribly serious."

"Yes,"
Ruth said slowly, "he's likeable. But ..."

"But
what?"

"But
... I don't know. But he's ... but he's a friend. He'll ever only
be a nice young man I knew once. I'm not sure it's worth renewing
our acquaintance."

"You're
sure he could ever only be a friend? That's what you thought about
Bo at one time, too."

Ruth
blushed as violently as she was as capable of doing and said nothing.

"A-ha!
I knew it. I knew I'd discovered your little secret," Mom
crowed.

Ruth
didn't answer her for a moment.

"Then
what is all this about James if you've discovered my secret?"
she said at length. "You don't think I'd be fickle enough to
... I mean ... Having to eat one helping of all those words I ever
said about a fellow who could
never
be more than a friend is more than enough for me, thanks."

"I
know."

"Then
what are you up to?"

Mom
smiled a secretive smile.

"Don't
you ever read romance novels?"

"I
tried one once. I got as far as the second chapter, but it made me
nauseous, so I had to quit."

Mom
was a little affronted.

"You
should read a good romance once in awhile. You could use a little
romance in your soul. Might turn you into a normal human being,"
she said testily.

Living
with Ruth, she'd learned a thing or two about giving as well as
taking. She'd learned to deal with Ruth on her own terms of brutal
frankness.

Ruth
laughed delightedly. She enjoyed playfully riling her mother-in-law.

"But
I don't want to be a normal human being. They're not all they're
cracked up to be. If such a creature even exists. And if it takes
reading that romance slop to turn me normal, I guess I'll just have
to do without."

"Oh,
well, then," Mom said, shrugging her shoulders.

"But
will you please tell me what romance books have to do with the reason
James and I should renew our acquaintance? And where ... that other
person ... comes into it all?"

"Jealousy
is a powerful emotion, Ruth. Especially for men."

"So
I've discovered," Ruth said drily. "It's a powerful
emotion for women, too."

"From
what you've told me, Bo has promised you he'll never 'bother' you
again by talking to you about his feelings for you."

Back
when he had feelings for me
,
Ruth said to herself.

Mom
continued, "I know Bo. He's a man of his word. It will take
some powerful reason to make him break that promise."

"Why
should he break that promise?" Ruth said slowly. "We're
fine as we are."

Her
mother-in-law snorted. "With both of you pining away for each
other? Don't deny it. I have eyes in my head. And with little Gabe
needing a father?"

"Shouldn't
we leave these things in God's hands?" Ruth said piously.

Mom
snorted again. "You don't fool me. That's fear talking. God
works in mysterious ways, Ruth. And He often does His work through
people."

"So,
you're telling me that you're doing God's work by cooking up some
kind of a scheme that you got out of a romance book? Have you prayed
about this, Mom?"

"Mysterious
ways, Ruth. Guy and I never would have made a match if it hadn't
been for a good friend of Guy's who happened to notice me right
before Guy did – and Guy happened to notice me
because
his friend had, I think. I'd been quite taken with Guy for months,
and I'm afraid it was pretty obvious to everyone. Even to Guy. But
he was quite happy to go on taking me for granted. Until his
friend's attentiveness to me lit a fire under him."

"My
situation's a little different though, don't you think? In your
situation, no one had to plot to make things work out the way they
did. And doesn't it seem a little like using James? It doesn't seem
completely honest, somehow."

"Are
you afraid that James might have more serious intentions toward you
than I'm giving him credit for?"

"No,
not at all. I'm not worried about that. I just ... I don't know."

"Well,
then, if you and James start to renew your old acquaintance and Bo
happens to find out about it and gets the wrong idea but that wrong
idea helps get some wheels in motion and no one, namely James, gets
hurt in the process and two people who were obviously meant for each
other end up together, where's the harm in it?"

Ruth
didn't have a ready answer, but she felt sure there was some harm in
it somewhere. One part of her wished her mother-in-law would leave
well enough alone. The other part of her thought that her
mother-in-law might be right and that things weren't, at present,
quite well enough to be left alone. But surely it wasn't up to
either her or her mother-in-law to do anything about it?

The
discussion was curtailed by the sight of James' car raising a cloud
of dust down the driveway and Ruth and Mom rushing to get the final
touches put on the meal.

*
* *

"Delicious
dinner, Mrs. MacKellum. Thanks for the invitation. I don't get
cooking like that where I'm rooming and boarding. And it was nice to
break up the trip a little and see the two of you again. Guess I'd
better get back on the road if I hope to make it back to Camille
before dark, though." James pushed back from the table,
dropping his serviette in his plate.

"If
you have any free time next weekend, why don't you pop down and see
us again?" Mom invited casually, ignoring Ruth's fierce looks in
her direction.

"I'd
like that. I should probably stick around my rooming house and start
studying for finals though. Although ... all work and no play,
right?"

Mom
beamed. "Absolutely right! And you don't want to become a dull
boy. Finals are over a month away, aren't they? You could probably
put off the studying for one more weekend. Are you a church-going
man, James?"

"Sometimes."

"Well,
I was going to suggest that you come for Sunday, and go to church
with us. I'm asking you especially for this Sunday because –
Ruth would never tell you this herself – but she's singing a
solo as a special number this Sunday."

Ruth's
looks grew fiercer, but she restrained herself from any violent
kicking of her mother-in-law under the table.

"You're
welcome to come Saturday and stay over till Sunday if you'd care to.
Always nice to get away from school for the weekend, isn't it?"
Mom went on.

"Well,
when you hold out an inducement like hearing Ruth sing on top of your
cooking and the excellent company, I guess I'll have to try and get
away for sure. I know she can sure sing. Remember all those
sing-songs around the 'old pianer' with good, ol' Willy Spanner
tickling the ivories, Ruth? Those were some good memories. Still, I
had no idea she could be convinced to sing publicly. A solo yet!
I'll definitely try to make it down for that. All right if I sail in
on Saturday evening? I could get some studying in during the day, at
any rate, and still be here by nightfall."

"That
would be perfect," Mom said, looking triumphantly at Ruth.

Ruth
had said nothing during this exchange. Whatever was about to happen
next could remain on her mother-in-law's conscience. Hers would be
clear. She wasn't entirely ungrateful, however. And she was more
than a little curious to know what would happen next.

*
* *

Ruth
sat in the pew between her mother-in-law and James Hardcastle,
holding Gabe on her knee. The foursome were seated conspicuously
near the very front and the only ones in their pew. There was no
avoiding the free advertising James' presence with Ruth and Mrs.
MacKellum was receiving that Sunday morning. Ruth needed to sit in
the front in order to be ready to slip out and make her way quickly
to the pulpit when her time came for her solo.

Her
heart hammered, her stomach reeled, and her palms were moist for more
reasons than one. Although it wasn't the first solo she'd performed
in church, she'd never overcome her nerves entirely, and this solo
would be the hardest on her nerves. So conscious was she of Bo in
his accustomed spot, three pews behind her, unavoidably noticing the
newcomer sitting next to her, that, from her state of mind, he might
as well have been the only other member of the congregation that
morning.

Her
cue came, and she rose and glided unobtrusively to the front (or
hoped she glided), suddenly aware of limbs she'd just discovered she
had and didn't remember ever having used before. Had she grown a new
set of hands for the occasion? And what on earth should she do with
the things? She opted for resting them on the pulpit. It probably
wasn't proper soloist etiquette, but they were too heavy to allow
them to hang freely.

She'd
been so preoccupied with the hand question, she'd almost forgotten
about the butterflies tripping the light fantastic in her stomach.
They made their presence known again once the piano played the
introduction.

But
once launched into her solo, the simplicity and beauty of the words
and the melody wrapped themselves around her and she lost herself in
the old hymn, closing her eyes and forgetting about the audience and
even Bo and James listening.

"Jesus,
lover of my soul, let me to thy bosom fly ..."

The
hush that filled the sanctuary when she finished told her that her
listeners had felt what she had felt as she sang. When she opened
her eyes at the end of the song, they, of their own accord, rested on
Bo's face for a moment. What she saw there convinced her that
perhaps she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion about the sweet and
feminine, natural blonde who was a little too young for Bo. Maybe
blonde wasn't his preferred type after all.

The
warm rush of feeling that washed over her was only partly due to the
relief of having finished her solo and having finished it well. She
found herself hoping that Mom's ploy might succeed after all and
wondering if there was anything she should do to help it along.

*
* *

"Ruth,
your song was beautiful. One of my favourites. And you sang it
beautifully, too." Bo's face was abnormally serious as he
congratulated Ruth.

"Thank
you, Bo. James, this is Bo Weaver, my boss. Bo, I'd like you to
meet James Hardcastle, a friend of mine from Camille. We got to know
each other awhile back when I was taking my secretary training
there."

James
had his hand cupped protectively around Ruth's elbow, escorting her
out of the pew, and on an impulse she would later regret, Ruth leaned
into him slightly and smiled up at him in what she hoped was an
adoring manner. Being unaccustomed to committing fraud of any
variety, it's very possible she overdid the act badly. James opened
his eyes a little wider, lifted his eyebrows, and grinned back at
her. He didn't appear at all displeased by her unusual display of
special attention. Ruth's heart sank and her conscience joined it.