Patterns of Swallows

by Connie Cook

Chapter 9

  And summer turned to fall. The first year of married life could be crossed off the calendar.

  But by their first anniversary, Ruth was living (at least part of the time and temporarily) in a different town from Graham. This wasn't because of any unhappiness in their marriage. As I've told you, it's likely they were at least averagely happy together in that first year of marriage.

  The separation was a purely practical one, and it came about like this:

  "You still think about going out to work?" Graham asked her casually over breakfast one summer morning, putting down his newspaper momentarily.

  "Not really," Ruth said, unsure what was the right answer. She was unsure what was the safe answer, and she was unsure what was the honest answer. She was fairly sure that "not really" was more safe than honest, but seeing she didn't know the honest answer, she chose what seemed like the safer answer. She had not an inkling why Graham would ask her. He'd made it very clear he didn't want his wife working.

  "Why?" she wanted to know. "Is there a 'help wanted' in the paper that would be a good opening for me?"

  "No, but I might have a good opening for you," Graham grinned at her, pleased with himself.

  "What would you think about working part-time at the mill?" he asked.

  Ruth swallowed her memories of the Morning Glory. Of course, Graham wouldn't have thought of her going back there. He certainly wouldn't have his wife working as a waitress.

  "Wha'd'you mean? I'd never be able to do that. Like, running the planer or something? Or stacking lumber? I don't think I'd be strong enough." Ruth was sure he didn't mean any such thing. She was mostly being silly, but she couldn't imagine what he did mean.

  Graham laughed at her a little.

  "I wouldn't trust you out in the yard with all those men. I hear the way they talk about women. Just you and all the boys! That'd be the day! No, I mean how'd you like to work in the office. As my secretary. Just a couple or three days a week. Right now, Dorothy's been doing the secretarial for both me and Dad, but it's getting to where I could use my own secretary. And you could earn your own pin money. I might expect you to work cheap, though."

  "Graham! You can't be serious!"

  "You mean about working cheap?" he asked, teasing.

  Ruth ignored the teasing. "You give me all the 'pin money,' as you put it, that I need. How many pins can a girl buy? Of course I'd do it just to help out if I could. But I couldn't! I don't know the first thing about secretary-ing. I don't know shorthand. I couldn't type to save my life."

  "I know that. It was this ad in the paper that gave me the idea in the first place. Dad's been talking about me getting a girl in, part time, as my secretary, but I thought of you when I saw this ad. See here? They're bringing a new course to the college in Camille in September. An abbreviated secretarial course. Just one term. Starter stenography and basic bookkeeping, it says here. Even if you didn't want to work in the office at the mill, it's not a bad idea for you to get something like this. If anything were to happen to me, it's always good for a woman to have something to fall back on. Other than waitressing, I mean. Something you'd really be able to support yourself at. Course, I'm not planning on anything happening to me just yet, and I do plan to leave you well-provided-for when something does happen to me, but you never know."

  Graham grabbed her around the waist as she reached for his plate to take it to the sink and pulled her into his lap. They were still newlyweds, after all, even if they weren't new newlyweds.

  She shrieked a little as she landed in his lap suddenly and dropped the plate back on the table. She struggled a little (but just a little) to get up and get on with clearing the table.

  "Graham!" she scolded.

  "You'd better be nice to me," he said, keeping her pinned to his lap. "This may be my last day on earth. You just never know."

  "Graham!" she said again. She couldn't take his last comment quite as lightly as he'd intended it, but she shook it off.

  "Let me up. I've got to get the dishes going, and you've got to get off to work."

  "Not until you tell me what you think about my idea."

  "We-ell, I don't know what I think. Obviously, I'd have to give it a little more thought than half-a-minute's worth. Camille! It's over an hour away. That would be a long drive every day. And in the winter, too. Over a mountain pass? I can't see me driving that every day for four months in the winter. I see the course doesn't wrap up until Christmas."

  "That is the problem. I suppose it would mean you finding a place to live in Camille during the week and coming home just for weekends. Might be worth it, though. Other couples have done it and survived, I'm sure. It is only four months, and I don't know when you'd get an opportunity like this again. And then, after that, I could have you at the mill with me, right under my watchful eye." He tugged on her hair playfully.

  "You almost make it sound like you want to get rid of me!"

  "Believe me! I don't want to get rid of you. But it is only four months, and we'd see each other on weekends. Then after that, when you're finished your course, I'd have you all to myself. We could get up to all kind of mischief at the office. I've always wanted to chase my secretary around her desk." Graham still hadn't let her off his lap.

  "Graham, you've got to get to work!"

  "Hey, what's the fun of being the boss's son if you can't be late once in awhile. Stop thinking about those dishes. Focus on your husband for a minute or two."

  "You've got to get to work," Ruth repeated weakly. But she returned his kiss.

  * * *

  The subject wasn't reintroduced until a week later. Ruth thought she'd let the matter slide and test Graham's seriousness about it, waiting to see if he brought it up again. Sometimes it was hard for her to know when he was teasing and when he wasn't. She couldn't imagine that he'd want to be separated from her for four months immediately into the start of their second year of marriage.

  Graham had saved the newspaper ad in the pocket of his shirt. When Ruth went through his pockets to wash his clothes, she found the ad and set in on the dresser not liking to dispose of it entirely but not wanting to remind Graham of it openly.

  He found the ad the next morning as he dressed for work.

  "We never did finish discussing that secretarial course in Camille," he said to her, expertly looping his tie around the collar of his shirt. "You said you wanted more time to think about it, so now that you've had more time, wha'd'you think?"

  "I can't imagine it working, that's all. Paying the rent for two places when we don't have to?"

  "That's no issue. The rent for the farm covers the rent for this place nicely with a little left over from the lease of the land. My salary is more than enough for anything else we need plus renting you a little place. You could get a little apartment. Or maybe room and board. You could probably find something pretty cheap but nice enough still. And it would be worth it in the long run. It'd be a good idea for you to have a course like this one under your belt."

  "But what about you? You're not used to batching it. You can't even boil an egg. What would you do?"

  "That wouldn't be a problem, either. I'd just move back home to my old room while you're away. Mom offered it when she heard about this opportunity for you. Then when you're back on the weekends, I'd move back here. It'd be just like a honeymoon cottage after a week away from each other."

  "Oh!"

  Ruth hadn't thought about Graham moving back in with his parents while she was away. It sounded like it was all arranged already. Was that what he wanted, then?

  She wanted to ask, "What about me? What about us?" but she didn't. Not if this was what Graham wanted.

  "Of course I'd miss you, if that's what you're worried about," he said, partially reading her thoughts.

  She could have said, "I'm worried about me missing you," but she said nothing. There was nothing worse than a needy, clingy, demanding wife, after all. Or so she'd heard.

  "I guess it's settled then," she said sl
owly. "No other reason I shouldn't go, I suppose. If that's how you want it."

  "Look, Ruth. I know it's a sacrifice for us to be apart, but I'm doing it for you. I thought this would've been what you wanted. I know it was hard for you to give up working. I know you find the time heavy on your hands at home all day, and I appreciate you giving up the Morning Glory for me. I really do. I know you enjoyed your job there. I just thought this might help make up for it. And once this course is over, we'd be together more than ever. It would be great fun to have you at the mill. And I think you'd enjoy the work and be good at it. It's what I thought you'd want."

  Ruth was touched.

  "I'm sure you're right, Graham. I would like to learn the work. I'm sure you're right that I'd enjoy it. It's just that the separation will be a bit hard."

  "For me, too! Believe me!"

  Ruth wanted to.

  "But as you say, it is only four months. Lots of other couples have had to survive years of separation. And there's always weekends," she said.

  "That's my girl." Graham abandoned the tying of the tie and cradled her in his arms.

  And so it was decided. Ruth enrolled for the course that very day, having put her hand to the plow.

  And the day after Labour Day found her sitting in a classroom with twenty-four other young secretary-hopefuls, learning more than she ever thought there was to know about punctuation.

  Graham had found a rooming house for her right in the heart of Camille and very near the school. She could walk the five blocks easily to class in the morning. And it was a decent place without being overpriced. Two of her fellow secretary-hopefuls also roomed there. They seemed to be pleasant-enough girls. Ruth decided she might not be as lonely as she had expected. The four months would surely pass quickly.

  Besides the three girls in secretary training, there were two other boarders – both men. They all met at the supper table her first evening in Camille.

  Mrs. Goodhope, the efficient landlady, introduced everyone all around.

  "You can all start eating. I'll do the introducing for you, seeing we've got three new girls and one new gentleman tonight. I'll tell everyone's names going around the table clockwise, starting with Merry. Just nod when I say your name so the others know who you are. Meredith Vanderhoeven, everyone. She tells me she goes by Merry, though. Then, next to her is Lacey Dunlop. And then Ruth MacKellum. I believe you three girls know each other. You've just had your first class together, I think."

  Mrs. Goodhope didn't bother waiting for an answer.

  "Then, myself you know. And next me is James Hardcastle. I suppose we'll call you Jimmy, though, won't we?" James (or Jimmy) had his mouth full of soup, but it didn't matter. The question was rhetorical as were most of Mrs. Goodhope's questions. She kept rolling after the briefest of pauses.

  "Then down the end is Bill Spanner. I'm sure you young people will enjoy getting to know each other while you're here. I'll have you know, you young ladies, that you won't be able to believe a word Bill says. He's a scamp! You can consider yourselves duly warned." She beamed at Bill a moment before continuing. "The commons room is for everyone's use, but please respect the eleven o' clock cut-off for usage of that room. I know you young things don't need as much sleep as us older ones, but out of consideration for those who need more, I've set eleven o' clock as a sort of quiet time here. I keep the doors unlocked till then. I know you're all adults. I'm not trying to set your bedtime. It's for my sake, really. If you're going to be out later than eleven, just ask me in advance for a key. I do hate to be rousted out of bed in the middle of the night. And you don't want to see me short of sleep. Everyone suffers. If you want to entertain guests privately, you can book, what I call, the front parlour. There's a calendar hanging just inside the door of the parlour for that purpose. Now. Does anyone have any questions?"

  Everyone looked at each other, a little shell-shocked from the barrage of information and running commentary.

  "Good! I hope we'll all have a nice time together. If there's anything you need, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. Everyone finished with soup? I'll be right back with the roast."

  When their hostess/den mother had left the dining room, James (or Jimmy) whispered across the table to Ruth, "I feel like I'm ten and back at summer camp."

  Ruth wasn't a giggler, but she couldn't think of anything to say, so she did her best to giggle agreeingly. She was already learning new habits, living amongst strangers.

  "By the way, no one's called me Jimmy in years," he said to the table. "It's just James."

  Lacey smiled across at him and tucked a curl behind her ear. "All right then, Just James," she said.

  Bill looked like anything but a scamp. It was hard to imagine Bill being remotely scamp-y. It was also hard to imagine that Mrs. Goodhope saw him as part of "you young people" and "you young things," but then age and youth are relative terms, and he was certainly younger than Mrs. Goodhope.

  He was dark-haired, balding a little in front, with a long, almost solemn, face. Maybe it was his serious look that had occasioned Mrs. Goodhope's warning. If he had any sense of leg-pull at all, his foolery would surely be taken for gospel truth.

  Before the meal was over, they'd all learned (if he was to be believed) that Bill was in vacuum cleaners (which presumably meant he sold them), and James was taking civil engineering.

  Ruth couldn't help but notice that James looked at her from time to time as they made their way through the introductions and the soup and the roast beef and the rhubarb crisp. What she couldn't understand was why. She wasn't used to being noticed, and she certainly couldn't imagine what a reasonably attractive young man could find in her that would keep drawing his eyes back.

  She didn't realize it, but there had always been a quality about Ruth that would have intrigued any astute observer at once. I think that quality was the lack of the desire to impress. She was normally almost completely un-self-conscious around strangers simply because she never imagined any stranger would bother to notice her.

  In recent days, however, casual observers had begun to sit up and take notice. Maybe it was the haircut. Or maybe it was just Graham.

  Graham had changed her. I could see it when they began going around together. From that time on, she carried a sort of glow around with her that being loved by one such as Graham gave her.

  Very pretty girls like Lacey grow so used to attention they imagine, when in need of a plaything, that just a smile and a toss of the curls will land a James Hardcastle at their feet.

  The surprising thing was James hadn't landed. He hadn't seemed to notice Lacey at all. Or at least, not to notice her as anything out of the ordinary.

  Ruth decided she'd only imagined the glances James had sent her way that first evening. Or maybe there had been food between her teeth or something on her face, and he hadn't known how to tell her.

  When he made a point of talking to her more than the others at meals, she wrote it off as pity on his part; he was probably just being kind to the quiet, awkward girl.

  No one could have been more shocked than she when, before their first week of life in Mrs. Goodhope's rooming house was completed, James approached her after supper one night in the commons room.

  "There's a harvest dance happening at the recreation centre tonight. I don't know anyone else in town to take, so I thought I'd see if you were free and cared to go. How about it? Should we go and shake a leg together?"

  Ruth fumbled for an answer.

  "I'm sure Lacey would go with you," she said finally.

  "But I'm not asking Lacey. I'm asking you."

  Ruth had no idea what the social niceties called for in the situation. It had never occurred to her that she, as a married woman, would have need of learning the societally-approved manner for turning down an offer for a date.

  Her main difficulty lay in the fact that she didn't know if James was asking her on a date, as such. Maybe this was just the way of the world outside of Arrowhead. Maybe it was considered perfe
ctly proper for a young, single man to extend a friendly invitation for a dance to a young, married woman. She knew one thing. She had no intention of going anywhere with James Hardcastle. At all. But how could she let him know her reasons without making it sound as though she assumed he was asking her on, well, on a date? If it was a perfectly proper (proper for Camille), friendly invitation, he would surely be offended when she responded as though she thought it was improper.

  In the end, she threw social niceties to the wind and stated the plain truth.

  "I'm married," she said.

  "Oh! I didn't realize ... I mean, I saw the ring and all, but I didn't realize you were still married. I thought maybe you'd lost your husband, and that's why you were here taking the secretary's course. I mean, I guess I just never thought a married woman who still has her husband would be rooming and boarding ... I hope you don't think I'm just some 'fast' kind of guy who tries to take out married ladies. I really didn't know."

  "It's all right. I know my situation's a little unusual. Don't worry. I won't think you're 'fast.' Or if I do, I promise not to hold it against you."

  James laughed and relaxed a little.

  "Well, it was mostly just because I really don't know anyone else here I'd like to take. We could still go, y'know, if you felt like it. I promise to behave myself now that I know you're a married woman."

  Ruth smiled, but shook her head.

  "Guess I might ask Lacey after all, then." James went off to find her.

  The rocky beginning developed into a comfortable friendship. She never would go anywhere with James, more for what people would think than for any danger she feared for either herself or him, but they spent most evenings in the commons room with some of the others, playing whist or pinochle or singing around the piano (the surprising Bill Spanner was somewhat of a genius on the instrument) or just talking. There were many good talks shared between Ruth and James especially. James became Ruth's closest friend in Camille, seeing there was no one else she felt like herself around. His presence made her time in Camille bearable.

  But she lived for weekends.