by Connie Cook
"We're too young to even talk about such things," Ruth told him primly, hoping to escape through evasion.
"But when we're older, I'll still love you. Will you love me back then?"
"You can't possibly know what you'll do when you're grown up."
"Yes, I do. I do know that. I'll love you till I die."
It was just like Joshua Bella to say something so absurd. People didn't say things like that. Maybe in books, but certainly not in real life. It just wasn't done. But that was Joshua all over.
And how could he imagine that she might love him back? Didn't he know how people saw him? Not that it would have mattered to Ruth how other people saw him. But she had to admit that she could see why other people saw him the way they saw him, and whatever it was about Joshua that made people see him that way, it had the same effect on her, even if she tried not to let it.
But, no, Joshua probably didn't see himself the way others saw him. He didn't see what he did wrong. It was part of what put him at the bottom of the heap socially. He never knew the kinds of things that a person should or shouldn't say or do. He was able to see the results of his blunders without understanding the causes behind the results. In ways, he was too much smarter than other people, and in other ways, he was dumber. Poor little Joshua Bella!
"Do you think you might ever feel that way about me?" he persisted.
"I don't feel that way about you at all. I never will. Not in a million years," Ruth said. What else could she say? There was no other way to end this. But the look in the brown eyes that wouldn't look directly at her was painful in the extreme. She'd never seen those eyes without hope in them before. And the unfairness of it all made her angry at Joshua. Why should she have to feel his pain? Why should she have been put in a position where she had to cause his pain? She hadn't asked for such a thing at all. Why couldn't he just have kept his mouth shut and left well enough alone?
And when Joshua refused to retreat gracefully but continued to seek out the girls' company day after day, Ruth's ire at his pain and her own role in it began to make her cruel to him. His constant, hopeful presence had annoyed her before. Now it sickened her.
* * *
Just as it enters the Arrowhead valley from the north, the Arrow River drops into a deep gorge the locals call "the canyon" (for obvious reasons). The canyon cuts the Arrowhead valley in two. The Chavinskis, the Starkes, and the Bellas all lived on the east side of it while Arrowhead proper was on the west. Vehicle traffic could cross the canyon only by means of canyon bridge, but for intrepid foot traffic, the train trestle was a tempting short cut.
Ruth and Wynnie were both strictly forbidden to play on or near the train trestle. A man had died on it a few years back. Well, it was hard to say where he had died, but it was certainly because he was on the trestle that he had died. Hearsay had it that he must have been well liquored-up not to have heard the train coming in time to get to one side of the trestle or the other. All that was known from the one witness, the train driver, was that just before the train reached him, he threw himself over the edge of the trestle into the river, possibly in a futile attempt to escape certain death by train. But to fall from the trestle was almost just as certain death.
Though Ruth and Wynnie had never been liquored-up in their lives and the trestle wasn't exceptionally dangerous for the sober, their mothers didn't see it in quite the same light as the girls, and the trestle was forbidden territory.
One of them had spied a cave – a real, live cave (though it was more just a small hole in the dirt, they discovered when they went in to explore it) – in the cliff wall of the canyon just on the other side of the trestle. But getting there required crossing the trestle.
"My mom just told me I wasn't supposed to play on the trestle. She didn't say I couldn't go across it at all," Wynnie rationalized in an attempt to get Ruth to come and explore the cave with her.
"Well," Ruth concentrated, trying to remember exactly what her mother's words had been. Hadn't she been warned against playing on the trestle, too? Crossing it wasn't playing on it, surely.
And imagine! A real cave to bury pirate treasure in. Maybe there was even real pirate treasure already buried in it. Maybe pirates had come down the Arrow River and found the cave and used it to hide their treasure.
They had to see inside that cave. And she couldn't let Wynnie go alone. That much was plain.
As usual, Joshua showed up right at the crucial moment when the girls had almost convinced themselves they were home-free for the day. He tagged along a few paces behind the girls.
They followed the tracks till they got to the trestle, but there Joshua balked. His fear of heights was well-known to the girls.
"Good! We'll have to play here all the time," Wynnie whispered to Ruth. "He won't go on the trestle. I knew he wouldn't."
"Ruth," Joshua called. "I don't think you should go. What if a train comes?"
They ignored him. They were already on the trestle and half-way across.
"I'm just waiting here for you, then," he shouted.
"Let him wait. Let's just take our time. Maybe he'll be gone by the time we get back," Wynnie said.
On the other side of the canyon, there was a sort of a path leading from the cliff's edge down to the cave. It wasn't much of a climb down. The cave was near the top. Neither Ruth nor Wynnie were afraid of heights in the least. Ruth revelled in them. She stood for a moment near the edge of the cliff – very near it. She held out her arms and imagined what it would be like to be a bird; to throw herself into the air to let the wind catch her up and away. What perfect freedom that would be!
Wynnie had already started down the trail to the cave.
This part was much more dangerous than the trestle, and Ruth knew it. Erosion was stealing pieces of the cliffs constantly. The dirt was loose on the trail, and it was very narrow and very close to nothing but wide, open space and a long drop to the water. She enjoyed heights within reason; this wasn't within reason. But Wynnie was fearless and almost at the cave. Ruth concentrated on setting her feet down carefully and not looking past them to the long fall she'd take if she misstepped.
The cave was a disappointment as far as caves go. It didn't lead anywhere. Plainly no pirates had used it for their treasure. There would have been no place to hide it if they had. All they found were some cigarette butts and a few beer bottles. There wasn't much to do in the cave, so they soon headed up the trail, scrambling on hands and knees (going up was much easier than going down, Ruth discovered). When they got to the other side of the trestle, Joshua wasn't there.
"Well, at least he's gone, and I'm glad," Wynnie said.
But, in the end, neither of the girls was glad that Joshua hadn't waited for them.
When Ruth got back to her house, her mother was waiting for her in the doorway. Joshua was there, looking scared and guilty.
"Joshua told me where you've been," Mother said. "What have I told you about playing on the trestle?"
"But we weren't playing on the trestle," Ruth protested feebly. The logic that was sound when Wynnie proposed it fell flat just then.
"But you were on the trestle?"
"We just walked on it to get to the other side. It's fine, it really is. It's not scary at all."
"That's deliberate disobedience, Ruth."
"But you said not to play on it. We were just walking across it."
"You knew very well what I meant. I meant, stay away from it all together. And you've deliberately disobeyed me."
"I didn't mean to. I just thought ..."
"I tell you these things for your own good. Don't you know that a man died there? Come with me, Ruth."
"But, Mother ..."
"Come with me."
Mother wasn't very big, but she was wiry and strong. Her switchings hurt as much as a man's would have. Maybe more because she wasn't overburdened with pity when her blood was up.
When it was all over, Ruth fled the house, intending to run to the giant firs in the back pastur
e. But there was Joshua, still standing outside the front door. He could hardly have helped but overhear the whole thing. If there was ever a stricken face, like they talked about in books, it was Joshua's.
"I'm sorry!" he whispered. "I didn't mean it."
Ruth hadn't intended to speak to him ever again, but she had to ask.
"Why did you tell her? Why did you go running home just to tell on us, you little tattle-tale?" she said between clenched teeth.
"I didn't. She asked. I was going by, and she was coming down the lane, and she asked me if I'd seen you. She asked me where you were, and I couldn't lie to her. Besides, it's not safe for you to go to that cave. I didn't want you to get hurt."
Ruth changed her mind about going to the firs. She didn't want Joshua to know about her spot that was just hers, and he seemed intent on following her. She headed straight for the railroad tracks instead.
"Ruth! Where're you going? Wait for me," Joshua said, trailing in her wake.
Ruth said not a word to him but kept marching. His shorter legs couldn't keep up to hers. He had to run every other step to stay even with her.
"Are you going back there?" he asked incredulous when he saw the direction she took. "Don't go back there. Please."
But she wouldn't stop or look at him or acknowledge his existence in any way.
"Aren't you ever going to speak to me again? Please say something," he pleaded. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me forever."
She knew he wouldn't cross the trestle, so that was exactly where she was going. She didn't care if it did mean another whipping.
But he was in such a state of distress by the time they reached the trestle he didn't seem to notice the height of it. He crossed directly behind Ruth, begging her forgiveness the whole way.
Was there no escaping him?
On the other side, she turned to him and broke her vow of silence.
"Go away, and leave me alone!" she shouted directly in his face. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"
She couldn't look at his face. She climbed down the trail to the cave at a mad pace, sure this was one place he wouldn't dare to follow.
Her feet slid on the loose dirt as a result of her carelessness, heading straight for the edge and that horrible, empty, gaping hole that was the canyon with the river rushing away on the bottom of it so far, far below. She wasn't usually one to scream, but she screamed involuntarily.
The drop wasn't a sheer one, not as sheer as it looked when she began to slide. She slid until her feet found a narrow shelf of earth, wide enough to stop them, six or so feet below the cave.
"RUTH! Hold on! I'm coming, I'm coming!"
She had never seen a face as pale as Joshua's. He swayed back and forth slightly before beginning the climb down to the cave, and Ruth, for one instant, believed he was going to plunge head-first into the canyon from giddiness.
She wanted to tell him to stay where he was and not come down, that she could climb back up without his help, but terror had removed her capacity for speech. She told herself she had to try and climb, but fear held her still. All she could picture was climbing inch by inch on the cliff face only to lose her grip and go sliding backward, this time missing the ledge she was on. She was effectually paralyzed with that picture in her mind.
Somehow, he arrived safely at the cave, and there the trail ended.
"I'll get into the cave and hang my head and arms out and reach down to you, so I can pull you up. You'll have to try to climb a little. I don't think I'm strong enough to pull you up without help. But I can keep you from falling if you start to slip," he said to her. He sounded almost calm now.
She nodded, and reached her arms up, hating even to make that movement.
He caught her hands, and began to pull with all his might. Her feet scrabbled desperately in the loose dirt of the cliff, searching for a toehold as she tried to climb, but there was no toehold to be had. Just loose dirt that refused to support her weight. After several attempts, they could both see they needed a new plan.
Ruth wanted to tell Joshua to go for help and she'd sit tight, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. She couldn't stay on that ledge all alone until help came. She just couldn't do it.
"Don't worry! I'm not going to leave you," Joshua said as though reading her mind. "We'll think of something."
"I know," he said suddenly. "I think there's room for two down where you are. If I was down there, I could boost you up. That would be a lot easier than trying to lift you. And you're bigger than I am. You'd be able to lift me easier than I can lift you. Or if not, you can climb up and run for help, and I'll wait there."
Ruth didn't answer. Her teeth were beginning to chatter from shock. Before she could stop him, Joshua had lowered himself down gently onto the ledge, hanging onto the edge of the cave by his fingertips. He dropped the last few inches lightly.
"Okay," he commanded, taking charge. "Put your hands into the cave as high as you can reach. I'm going to get my hand under your foot, and when I count to three, I'll give your foot a push, and you push off for all you're worth, and try to get as much of yourself into the cave as you can. Then you can turn around to pull me in. I think I can climb with just my arms better because I'm lighter. It will be easier for me. You'll see. It'll work. Okay, ready? One, two, three."
Ruth found most of her upper body in the mouth of the cave without too much trouble, and she was able to pull herself easily in from there. But when she turned around to help Joshua, all she could see was his face, with his brown eyes wide and desperate, and his arms outstretched, fingers clutching avalanching dirt, reaching for anything to catch himself as he began the long descent to the rocks and the water below. The shelf of earth had given way under their combined weight, and his last thrust of her foot had been the final straw for the crumbling soil of the eroding cliff.
Ruth screamed again, but what good did screaming do at such a moment? As much as she wished she could, she couldn't pull her eyes away from the boy's slight mass, tumbling and rolling now as he gained momentum, now rebounding from rocks on the way down, now landing with a splash she could hear and see in the river. And then she saw the river carry him away until she could see him no more.
Why? Why hadn't she done any one of a million things differently? Why hadn't she gone to her fir trees? Why hadn't she gone anywhere but to the cave? Why hadn't she watched her footing on the way down? Why hadn't she tried to climb back up on her own? Why hadn't she told him to run for help, and she'd wait there alone? Why hadn't she told him under no circumstances was he to come down to her? Why hadn't she turned around faster in time to catch him? Why hadn't she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I don't hate you"? Why hadn't she said, "I do love you, Joshua"? Why hadn't she even said thank you? At the very least, couldn't she have thanked him for giving his life to save hers? Couldn't she have called it to his body as it fell against the rocks and into the water? Maybe he could have heard, "thank you," as the last words he would ever hear of hers rather than, "I HATE YOU!" Wasn't there something she could have changed?
But maybe there was a chance! Maybe he was still alive. Maybe some miracle had occurred and the fall hadn't killed him, and maybe another miracle would occur and he'd survive the river. Maybe if she hurried, she could find a rescuer who could pull him out of the river, battered and unconscious but alive. She could almost picture the scene. She could picture him opening his eyes to see her tear-stained face and the hope coming back into his eyes as he realized that she did care. Then he'd recover, and she could go on living. Or even if he didn't recover, at least his last sight could be of her face and the last words he heard would be her, "I love you." Even then she could go on living.
She pictured it to herself on the scramble up the trail from the cave to the top of the cliff. She pictured it all the way running to the canyon bridge. She pictured it as she was jumping out in front of the first car that came, waving her arms wildly. She pictured it until it seemed to her that it must be true. Joshua was alive. He wou
ld be rescued.
The driver of the car took an agony of ages to understand her tale and made her repeat it three times.
"You mean there's a little boy that fell into the river? From up by the trestle?"
"Yes, near there." What did it matter where he fell from? Couldn't he understand that every second counted if Joshua was going to be rescued?
"Well, not much hope for him then, but you hop in the car. We'll go to the R.C.M.P. right away and get a rescue party out."
The words rescue party were a straw of hope for Ruth to clutch at. It was all true, all that she'd been picturing. There was still a Joshua to be rescued.
But for all her picturing, there had been no miracles. They found his body an hour later half a mile downriver.
And then Ruth knew that she wouldn't go on living.
* * *
It wasn't until years later that she told anyone the whole story.
The idea got around that Joshua had been playing on the trestle and Ruth was there watching and saw Joshua fall over the side. It was unclear how he fell. It was all the man in the car could glean from Ruth's incoherency in her shock. He told the story to the police, and they told the story to Ruth's mother, and she told the story to the Bellas. All the adults accepted it as plausible. After all, one man had already died on that trestle. It was certainly a dangerous place. Normally as honest as the daylight, Ruth did nothing to correct the false impressions that had circulated. There were some things that just couldn't be told, even for a girl as basically truthful as Ruth.
No one ever again had to tell Ruth not to play on the trestle. She developed a paranoia of heights. And of bedtime.
Bedtime became a terror. On one end of sleeping, the words that had plagued her in her younger years played over and over in her head. "Thou fool." "Raca." "Whosoever is angry with his brother without cause ..." "Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer..."
And when she would fall into uneasy sleep, on the other end of sleeping night after night she sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding and her mouth dry, seeing yet again Joshua's face and the cliff slide away together below her and her arms just too short to reach him.
