Patterns of Swallows (36 page)

"Poor
little Lily." Her mother's lip kept its curl. With pride and
privacy as lost causes, the scene was in full swing, and Edie
Turnbull entered into it heartily now, holding nothing back. "Your
father tells me it was all my fault. That I was too soft on you.
Well, that's all over. I'm finished being soft. Now that you've
disgraced us and dragged the Turnbull name through the mud and mire,
you think you can waltz back into town and all will be forgiven. You
expected a fatted calf, I suppose. You won't find it that easy, my
girl! You made your bed. It's time you learned to lie on it!"

Suddenly,
from back by the mailboxes where she'd been checking for "Help
Wanted" signs on the notice board, where no one had spied her in
the excitement of watching the first reunion between mother and
daughter, out flew a slim figure like an avenging fury.

"How
can you?" Ruth cried.

A-ha!
thought
the breathless audience who certainly couldn't have complained about
a lack of sensation so far but who were always eager for more
titillation.
Now
we'll see some action.

"How
can you?" Ruth said again, loudly enough for all the customers
in the post office to hear as well as the people halfway down the
street. Everyone stopped to watch the spectacle of Lily Turnbull
getting her comeuppance from Ruth MacKellum.

But
Ruth was speaking to Mrs. Turnbull.

"You
admit you raised her to be what she is. Now that she's reaping the
rewards of it, you turn her away? She's your
daughter
,
for heaven's sake! And she needs you."

"She
needs a home," Ruth continued. "Whatever she's done, and I
should know what she's done if anyone has, you can't let her starve
on the streets. She needs a home."

"She
had one before she ran off and left it to disgrace her family. She
should've thought of her home then," Mrs. Turnbull said coldly.
The two women eyed each other, ignoring Lily for the moment. Ruth
had fire in her eyes, but it couldn't melt the ice in the older
woman's. Edie turned and left with her head high, refusing to look
at anyone, gathering what was left of the tattered shreds of her
dignity about her.

Then
Ruth turned to Lily.

"C'mon.
Let's get you out of here. You can come home with me for now,"
she said. Lily didn't move, weeping openly but soundlessly, her face
distorted into deformity like a crying child's.

"Come
on," Ruth said again, leading her away with an arm around her,
shielding her from the prying eyes.

*
* *

Ruth
was the type of person irresistibly drawn to need. You can call that
character trait a flaw and a weakness, but personally, I don't
imagine there's too much wrong with it. Not when it's also God's.

*
* *

Mom
was horrified when she heard that Ruth was bringing Lily home.

Ruth
had dropped Lily off at her car and then had gone ahead of Lily to
break the news to Mom.

"Ruth,
you can't be serious! She can't stay here. That's flat."

"It's
too late. It's done. I've already asked her, and she'll be here in
a minute or two. She was following right behind me in her car.
Maybe it was a stupid thing to do; I don't know. But I can't take
back the invitation now. I'm sure it will only be for a day or
two," Ruth said hopefully. She felt a terrible sinking at the
thought of Lily and herself living under the same roof. Why did she
let impulse and heedlessness run her into the most outlandish
situations? Yet at the same time, in the moment it had seemed like
the right, in fact, the only, thing to do – to tell Lily she
could come home with her. Something (or Someone) inside of her
wouldn't let her turn away from Lily's need.

"It's
your house, of course. You have the right to ask anyone into it you
choose. I know I shouldn't have any say in the matter," Mom
said huffily.

"Mom!
That's not true. It's our house. It's your house as much as it's
mine. And I should have asked you what you thought about it before I
did anything rash. But I did something rash, and now it's done, and
at the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. She was
desperate. I couldn't just stand there and watch and her own mother
turn her away and do nothing about it."

"She
has other friends she could have gone to."

"I
suspect she doesn't have. Or none that would take her in. If even
her own parents wouldn't. I don't think Lily ever had much of a gift
for making friends. True friends, I mean, who would help her when
she's down."

"That's
true enough. And why on earth it should be up to
you
,
of all people, to help her ..."

"Why
not me? Never mind. You don't have to answer that. But don't
worry. I'm sure her parents will be shamed into taking her back once
they see her living here. It won't be for more than a day or two, I
can't imagine. Oh, here she is. Please, please, don't say anything
to her. I'll go help her get her things in."

Mom
gritted her teeth and seethed silently, watching Ruth carry all the
heaviest bags while Lily took a small overnight case. It was plain
to see how things were going to be all the time Lily was with them.

*
* *

The
"day or two" that Ruth had envisioned turned into a solid
week and then into two.

"If
she's going to stay," Mom said to Ruth out of Lily's hearing
(she said almost nothing in Lily's hearing, especially to Lily),
"she's got to go out and get a job. She can't lie around the
house, being waited on hand and foot. You're not well enough to be
working, and we have to have some sort of income with another mouth
to feed. We can't live forever on the money from the sale of the
land. I know you won't say anything to her about finding work, so I
will."

"Mom,
wait! What good would it do to tell her to get a job? What good
would it do for her to look for work? I don't think she's ever had a
job in her life. She's got no experience. And who would hire her
now? In her condition?"

It
was the first time Ruth had made mention to her mother-in-law of
Lily's "condition" though it had been obvious to Mrs.
MacKellum from the start. Mrs. MacKellum's reaction to Lily's
pregnancy was violently mixed. On the one hand, the sight of
Lily
carrying Graham's child raised her ire against Lily to the point that
she could hardly look in her direction without wanting to give her
face a good, hard, ringing slap or toss her out on her ear. So far
she had resisted both urges.

On
the other hand, the sight of Lily carrying
Graham's
child
was probably the reason she had resisted her urges. There was the
child to think about. And it was
Graham's
child.

Her
arms ached to hold Graham's child. A little piece of Graham.

In
spite of all that her son had done (and he'd been no less guilty than
Lily – perhaps more guilty; who could say?), his mother
yearned with a dreadful yearning to have and to hold even a little
piece of him.

"I'm
perfectly fit," Ruth said. "Why do you think I'm not well
enough to work? Nothing at all wrong with me now. If I could find
something ... but if I can't even find work, small chance of Lily
finding any. No, I'm afraid I'm the one who needs to get the job.
But don't worry. Something will turn up. Things have a way of
always working out. God will provide. 'Seek ye first,' and all that,
right?”

*
* *

And
it was at church that next Sunday where Ruth received her
inspiration.

It
was Bo Weaver's dark head two pews in front of her, not Pastor
Harper's admittedly uninspiring sermon, that caught her attention and
held it during the sermon. Besides being Eddie Hoffstetter's manager
at the apple packing shed, Bo acted as his foreman during apple
picking season in the Hoffstetter orchard.

After
the service, Ruth waited by the front door and kept her eyes fastened
on Bo to make sure he didn't escape her in the throng.

"Bo,
maybe I shouldn't be asking you about a job here, but it occurred to
me during the sermon that apple-picking season will soon be starting,
and I was wondering if you had all your pickers lined up already or
if you still need more workers."

"Well,
hello, Ruth, nice to see you, too, and I'm fine, thank you.
Yourself?" Bo said, teasing.

"Sorry!
Social niceties go out the window when I get an idea in my head.
You know me well enough by now to know that."

"I'm
not one to stand on ceremony myself."

"Okay,
let me start again. Hello, Bo. Nice to see you. How are you?"

"I'm
well. And you?"

"In
need of a job."

Bo
threw his head back and laughed.

"
'Atta girl! Social niceties are overrated. Well, Ruth, I don't have
all the pickers I need. Or at least, I could always use another.
But I'm not sure. Apple picking is pretty physically demanding. I
know you're a good, hard worker, but you haven't been long out of the
hospital. D'you really think you'd be strong enough for this type of
work? Those picking bags can weigh forty pounds when they're full of
apples. You think you'd be able to wear forty pounds of apples,
climbing up and down ladders? I'd almost hate to ask you to do it."

"You're
not asking me. I'm asking you. Would you be willing to give me a
chance at least? I'm stronger than I look. I can work hard when I
have to. And it's been at least six weeks since I was in hospital.
It's been almost two months. I'm completely well again and eager to
do something besides a little bit of gardening and housework. When
would apple picking start?"

"I've
got a crew starting tomorrow."

"And
do you need anyone else for your crew?"

"I
could possibly use one more."

"A-ha!
You see? It's providence. I knew it! As soon as I saw you in
church, I knew it was an inspired idea to ask you about a job."

"Hold
on, hold on. You're not hired yet."

"But
I will be. Won't I? I'd work hard."

"You
know I'd love to help you out, Ruth. We could use another hard
worker like you on the crew, and I know your work ethic. I'm not
worried that you wouldn't give it everything you've got. But that's
the problem. It's you I'm thinking about. I'm concerned about your
health. How would I feel if I helped put you back in hospital,
giving you a job that was too much for you? Wages picking apples
aren't high. You're not paid an hourly wage. You're paid for how
much you pick. A strong man has to work like a slave to make enough
to live off of. I'd be afraid of you killing yourself, trying to
earn enough to make up a decent wage. I still think you need to find
a job that's a little less demanding physically."

"Bo,
I really need this job," Ruth said, trying not to plead but
failing. "If I could find another job, I would've done it by
now. If I promise I won't overdo it, that I won't push my limits,
would you consider hiring me? After all, even if I'm not making what
you call a decent wage at it, at least it would be something. Which
would be better than the nothing I'm earning now. We're a household
of three now. I guess you heard about our house guest. This is
Arrowhead. I
know
you've heard about our house guest. And I've been unemployed for
going on three months now. I really need this job," she
reiterated.

"But
it's not permanent work. It wouldn't be a long-term solution."

"I
know that, but it would help. It would help tide us over. Maybe by
the time apple season's over, something else'll have come along.
Like I say, something is better than nothing."