Patterns of Swallows (6 page)

"Ruth, c'mon! I said I was
sorry."

"I know you did. You think
that makes it all right?"

"I'll apologize to Philippa
the next time I see her if that's what you want."

"And that will make it all
right?"

"It wasn't me, anyways. It
was Bernie."

"It doesn't matter, Graham.
We don't need to discuss this anymore. Are you here for breakfast
or just coffee or what do you want?"

"I'm here to see you."

"Why?"

"Because ... well, we were
getting along pretty well at the dance, and then the thing with
Bernie ... I dunno. I just ... Never mind! Forget it! I'll have
coffee."

"Black?"

"Yeah, sure. No, I mean, I
take sugar and cream."

When Ruth came back with the
coffee and the creamers, Graham said, "I just don't like knowing
you're mad at me. I'll do whatever you want."

Ruth said, "It doesn't
matter what I want. I don't want anything. Nothing you can do can
fix it. It's already done."

"Well, let it go then.
Can't you look at me once in awhile when I come in here? Maybe you
could even smile and say 'hi.' Would that be so hard?"

Ruth pulled in a deep breath.
Though she was still consciously trying to avoid the moment when
their eyes met, they met anyway. His eyes had a pleading look, and
she couldn't understand why.

"Hi Graham," she said.
She couldn't make herself smile, though. Smiling didn't come
naturally anyway.

"There! Did that hurt?
It's a start, anyways. Okay, bring me a cinnamon bun, I guess. And
orange juice, too. Please, I mean."

She'd never seen him so humble.

Other than, "Here you go,"
she didn't say anything when she returned with his roll and the
juice. He didn't say anything other than a quick, "Thanks."

She had to see him one more time
to bring him the bill, and she knew she wouldn't be able to do that
in silence, so she planned out what she would say.

"There's your bill, if
that's everything for you. How was the cinnamon bun?"

"Fine, thanks."

"Good. I know the cinnamon
buns are a good choice. Jim makes them fresh every day. They're my
favourite." It was a small olive branch, but it was an olive
branch.

Graham accepted the olive branch
for what it was. "So, if I'm forgiven, how about seeing a movie
with me tonight, just to make it official that you're not mad at me
anymore."

"What's playing?" was
the first answer that came into Ruth's head, so she said it.

"I don't know. Does it
matter?"

"I hate sitting through a
lousy movie," she said, desperately buying time. What on earth
was she going to say next?

"I can go and check what's
playing and come back and tell you, but why don't you just tell me
right now if I'd be wasting my time. If you really don't want to go
with me, just tell me right out."

Ruth hesitated. The soap bubble
was sitting right there in front of her, its door open, beckoning her
in. But she knew good and well how soap bubbles end up.

"Look! I'm just asking you
as an old friend. I really do feel bad about the other night, and I
don't want you to go all your life thinking of me as that jerk who
got kicked out of your restaurant, all right? That's all this is
about. It's just a friendly movie. So wha'd'you say?"

With her eyes wide open, Ruth
made her choice and stepped into the soap bubble.

"Okay, I'll go."

*
* *

And
that was the beginning of Ruth and Graham. At least the first
beginning anyone in town knew anything about. After that first movie
(which
was
lousy,
not that Ruth noticed), they were seen together on a regular basis.
Graham continued to date other girls, of course, whenever he felt
like it. There was never any suggestion between the two of them of
going steady. It wasn't like that. At first.

As the weeks of casual
friendship turned into months, Graham saw less and less of any other
girl and more and more of Ruth. At first, their time spent together
was at the movies or maybe out for ice cream at the Dairy Parlour on
hot afternoons. Sometimes there was a card game out at the farm with
Wynn and a few friends of Graham's (but not Bernie Jansen!) or an
occasional dance at the Legion in the evenings. Gradually, Graham
got into the habit of hanging around the Morning Glory till closing
on the days when Ruth worked the late shift so he could give her a
ride home. He wasn't pleased to learn she rode her bicycle with no
lights the three miles to the farm after nine o' clock in the
evening.

"It's fine," she
assured him. "It's summer. It's still light out at nine."

"Well, it won't be soon.
The days are getting shorter already. C'mon. Throw the bike in the
back of the pickup. I'm giving you a ride home."

Ruth didn't bother to argue.
And that became the routine on her closing-shift days once Graham had
her schedule memorized.

The more time they spent
together and the more comfortable they became with each other, the
more often it occurred that Graham would ask, "So what are we
doing tomorrow?" as a matter of course when he dropped her off
in the evening.

One evening Ruth had an answer
all ready for him.

"You're going to teach me
to drive," she said.

He laughed. "Not me. You
need someone with nerves of steel to be a driving teacher. My nerves
are too delicate for that."

"Well, who else would teach
me?"

"You're serious?"

"Yes. I have to learn how
to drive someday."

"I suppose. I guess there
really is no one else to teach you, is there?"

"Unless I asked Jim, but
he's pretty busy with the Morning Glory."

"Wow! I'm not sure I'm
ready for this. Guess we could use the pickup."

"You don't have to if you
don't want to. I'm saving up for a used car, but I don't have enough
yet. I found one I thought might be a good deal. We could wait till
I have my own car if you want."

"No, my life's worth more
than my pickup, so what does it matter what vehicle we use? We might
as well use my pickup. You should know how to drive before you go
buying a car. And you'd better let me look over that car you're
thinking of before you do anything foolish. You should never try
buying a car without a man along, y'know. They'll see you coming a
mile away if you don't know anything about cars."

"I'd appreciate that, thank
you. I accept. Both letting me drive your pickup and looking at the
car with me. It'll be another few months before I can afford the
car, though."

"I can run you places,
y'know. You don't really need a car."

"I do need a car. And I
need to know how to drive it. I can't ride the bike in winter, and
it's too far to walk every day into town when the weather's bad, and
I'm not going to be dependent on you every time I want to go
anywhere. Besides, you're at work during the day when I need to get
to the cafe"

"Yeah, I guess. Well,
tomorrow then. We could go out to the lake. There's some deserted
back roads I know of for practice."

"I'll pack a picnic lunch."

"You'd better. I can see
that's all the pay I'm gonna get from this job."

*
* *

Ruth hadn't seen the lake in
seven years. She was delighted that Graham suggested it.

When they got out onto the back
roads and Graham pulled the pickup over to trade her spots, she
mastered the basics quickly: steering, brake, clutch, gas pedal, gear
shift. Letting the clutch off slowly and stepping on the gas at the
same time, just enough but not too much, was the trickiest part of
the procedure. After a few stalls and a lurching start, the worst
was over. Once on the road, she handled the vehicle like a natural
and managed to shift from first to second, grinding the gears only
slightly.

"You're sure you've never
done this before?"

Ruth laughed in sheer delight.
It was a pleasant sound and a rare one. "I like this! I really
do. This isn't scary at all."

"It's not as scary as I
thought it would be, anyways. Why don't you pull over to the
shoulder there? Gently. Foot off the gas, start pressing the brake.
Easy, though. Just turn the wheel slightly, don't jerk it. Kay,
now, clutch in and brake a little harder. Keep the clutch in. Now
shut it off."

"Made it!"

"Yeah, but let's work on
your starts. Those're a little rough. It takes some time to figure
out how much gas to give it and how fast to let the clutch out."

After a couple of tries, Ruth
had the pickup back on the road.

"Is this easier than
teaching me to dance?"

"Well, you'll probably be a
better driver than a dancer, but at a dance, the worst that could
happen is I might get my feet stepped on. I don't usually fear for
my life when I'm teaching you to dance."

"And you feel like your
life's in danger now?"

"Not as long as you keep
your eyes on the road. Don't look at me when you're talking to me.
Your hands tend to go the same direction as your eyes. Whoa, there!
That was a little close to the edge." But they survived that
one with a minor over correction on Ruth's part.

The deserted back roads led to a
pebbly beach she'd never visited before. They had the beach to
themselves. Ruth pulled the truck off to the side of the road and
stopped it without any instruction at all.

"How's this look for the
picnic?"

"My stomach's too jumpy to
eat," Graham said, but he was teasing.

The pair were at the stage of
comfort together where silence was no longer awkward. They sat on
the rocks, leaning their backs against a log of driftwood and ate
mostly in silence, watching the clear water lap onto the pebbles.

"Look!" Ruth almost
shouted, pointing at the spot on the lake where a magnificent bird
with a wing span of at least five feet had dropped and then flown
away again with a great deal of splashing and flapping of his huge
wings. "What was it? Was it an eagle?"

"It's an osprey. There's a
family that lives around here. Look over there on those old pilings.
See up on the tallest ones? See the nest? He's probably just
trying to provide for his family. They fish for a living. Didn't
catch anything that time, though."

"How do you know it's a he?
Maybe it's the momma bird."

"Of course it's a he. No
self-respecting male would let the woman provide for the family."

Ruth fixed her eyes on the bird,
her egg salad sandwich forgotten, while he circled, watching the lake
below. She held her breath when he folded his wings for a fast
free-fall to the lake, and she yielded to a short, small cheer when
she saw the bird become airborne again with a flash between his
talons that glinted silver in the sunlight.

"He's beautiful," she
said, half-whispering.

"Guess his family will eat
today after all," Graham said matter-of-factly.

After lunch, they walked by the
lake. If there was one thing Ruth could never get enough of it was
the sound of the water and the sight of the sparkle of the sun on its
ripples and the reflection of the blue of the mountains and sky on
its mirrored face.

She didn't feel much like
talking, but Graham said, "This was a pretty good idea of
yours."

"Mmm-hmm!" Ruth
agreed. "The lake was your idea, though."

"Well, then, it was a
pretty good idea of mine."

"I'll give you that one. I
love the lake. I haven't seen it in seven years."

"Bring a bathing suit?"

"No, I didn't think to.
Did you?"

"Do we need 'em?"

"What?"

"You could go in without
one, couldn't you?" Graham scooped her up in one quick motion
and carried her to the water's edge. He pretended to toss her, but
hung on instead and set her bare feet down in the water at knee's
depth. The water soaked into her cotton dress just above the hem.

She kicked her feet at him,
splashing with all her might. In the process, she did more damage to
her dress than to Graham who ran away laughing.

"Good, thanks!" She
said when she caught up to him on the beach. "I was getting too
warm, anyway. That cooled me off."

"Oh really? Wanna go in
for real. That could be arranged."

He scooped her up again and
again pretended to throw her in. This time, however, he didn't set
her down right away. Her reaction was neither screams nor giggles,
just calm acceptance, for whatever fate had in store for her. Her
arms clung around his neck. If she went in, at least it wouldn't be
without a fight to hang on.