He knew. Ruth swallowed hard. “That doesn’t matter. We’ll make specialty dresses. Do alterations. Whatever it takes.”
But he shook his head slowly, his face so wan that she feared he would collapse. “No, Ruthie. I haven’t the strength.”
“You don’t have to do a thing.” Ruth grabbed his hand. “I’ll do it all. You concentrate on getting better. We need you.” Tears blurred her vision. “We love you, Daddy.” She hugged him and let the tears flow. “I love you.” Everything was falling apart. Everything she’d ever known and loved was ending.
He patted her back. “I know, child. I love you all, too, but we don’t choose our time to go. The Lord does.”
Though Ruth knew that in her head, her heart still ached. Daddy wasn’t getting better. He wouldn’t have lifesaving treatment. “I don’t want you to die.”
“We all must leave this world, child.” He hushed her and rubbed her back as if she were a little girl frightened by a nightmare. “But through our faith in Jesus Christ, we know that we’ll see each other again.”
Ruth couldn’t accept the finality of his words. “You talk like you’ve given up.”
“I would never give up one moment with you and your sisters. I’ll fight for every breath the Lord grants me.”
“That’s better.” She managed a smile through the tears.
Daddy handed her his hankie. “Dry your eyes, Ruthie, and know that whatever trials come your way, you will persevere. Even if I’m not here, God will stay by your side. Never forget that. He will carry you through the rough patches.”
Ruth bit her lip to still another flood of tears.
“Besides,” Daddy said with a burst of humor, “I might live to be a hundred. After all, rumor has it that President Harding has a weak heart like mine. He even spent time at the Battle Creek Sanitarium some years ago. Now he’s traveling all over the West, even to Alaska. That’s not for the faint of heart.”
Ruth had to smile at her father’s humor.
He wasn’t done. “Every day brings new opportunity, Ruthie. Open your heart to where God is leading and be willing to step into the unknown.”
Ruth bowed her head. Daddy always exhorted her to take risks, but Jen had inherited all the spirit for adventure. Ruth was more the homebody.
Jen burst into the living room. “Ruth! Come to the kitchen door. You have a visitor.”
“At the back door?” She stood. It must be a friend. No stranger would come to the kitchen. “Who is it?”
Jen fairly trembled with excitement. “It’s him.”
Ruth’s feet nearly went out from under her. After all Sam Rothenburg had done, he was paying her a call? Her heart raced. What would she say? “I can’t.”
“Open your heart,” Daddy said from his chair.
Ruth didn’t dare upset her father. She mouthed to her sister to watch over Daddy and headed for the kitchen. She would tell Mr. Rothenburg never to come here again.
The moment she entered the room, Mother and Minnie slipped upstairs.
That left Ruth alone to face Sam.
He stood just inside the door, hat slightly askew and jacket unbuttoned. The usually impeccable man looked disheveled.
“Ruth.” He pulled off his hat. “Please forgive me for barging in on your family, but this is urgent. There’s no time to waste if we’re going to prevent disaster.”
Ruth couldn’t stem the swell of anger. Instead of apologizing, he wanted to drag her away from the people who needed her most. Father would still be in the hospital if not for Sam. “Disaster has already happened, thanks to you.”
* * *
The accusation smacked Sam hard. He’d already endured his father’s scorn, but that pain didn’t come close to what Ruth had just inflicted.
She stood ramrod-stiff. Unyielding. “I think you should leave.”
“But you don’t understand. I’m here to help.” He didn’t even care that he sounded desperate.
“I don’t need your kind of help.”
Her bitter response echoed too closely the scorn Lillian had tossed at him before she left with Ned. I don’t need your kind of love. It was happening all over again. He’d opened his heart to a woman, only to have her stomp on it.
He crushed his hat between his hands. “Maybe I should leave.”
“I think that would be best.”
But then she averted her gaze, much like the day they’d met. At that moment he realized that she didn’t believe her own words. And she couldn’t possibly know how hard he’d tried to save the dress shop. After all, he’d insisted on anonymity. Perhaps he could win her over. His intentions were noble. He’d come here to help. Even if Ruth wouldn’t let him into her life, she would accept help for her family.
He set his hat on the counter. “Not until I’ve had my say.”
She backed away. “I don’t care to listen to anything you have to say.”
“Hear me out,” he pleaded. “I didn’t come here to talk about you and me or the mistakes I made. I came here to help your family.”
“My family is fine.” She crossed her arms around her midsection like a shield.
“I also wanted to discuss the dress shop.”
She turned her face, but not before he caught sight of the rush of emotion. “What about the dress shop?”
“I’d like to save your business, but I can’t do it alone. It’ll take time and effort and a willingness to try something new. You would have to give up the shop.” Now was not the time to whitewash the truth.
“I thought you said you wanted to help.”
“I do. But it will take time. And you would have to do something else for a while.” He stepped toward her, longing to hold her close and tell her everything would be all right.
She backed away.
Only then did it hit him how badly he’d wounded her. She wouldn’t accept any help from him without repentance and forgiveness.
He struggled to find the words. “I’ve hurt you. You can’t know how much I regret that. I should have told you the truth from the beginning.”
She turned to the window and offered no response.
He took a deep breath and continued the painful course. “But I couldn’t. You see, my father insists on keeping the store’s identity a secret until the grand opening. I couldn’t tell you or anyone else that my last name is Rothenburg.”
“So you lied.”
“No, I didn’t. The family used the name Roth during the Great War. Only after anti-German sentiment died down did most of us return to Rothenburg.”
“It’s still a lie.”
“I just explained that it isn’t.”
She stared him down. “We are not in the Great War, and your name is now Rothenburg, isn’t it?”
Sam gritted his teeth on the raw edge of truth. “Yes, but I was under orders from Father. My job was on the line.”
“And that’s worth more than our friendship?” Her eyes flashed. “You should have trusted me. You asked for my trust. You held me. You even...kissed me.” She swiped at her eyes. “How could you?”
Sam floundered for words that would calm her down enough to see reason. “I should have. I know that now, but we barely knew each other then. I didn’t know if you could keep a secret.”
“Do you always kiss women you don’t trust?”
So they were back to that again. “I did trust you. I do trust you.”
“Not enough.” Her chin jutted out. “I trusted you completely.”
Oh, how that hurt. No woman had ever trusted him completely. Lillian certainly hadn’t. The secrets she’d kept had nearly destroyed Sam.
“You’re right.” If he had any chance of success, he had to bare his soul. “My late wife took a lover. My best friend. I learned about it the night they die
d.” He clenched his fist to maintain composure.
“I’m sorry,” she said flatly.
He tried again. “I have trouble trusting people.” He punched the counter, preferring the pain of flesh cracking against wood to the pain in his heart. “But I did trust you. I do still. More than anyone I’ve ever met.” He choked on the words that must come next. “I have no excuse for not telling you everything. I can only beg your forgiveness.”
Her shoulders hitched before she forced out, “It’s too late.”
Too late. The final verdict. Guilty as charged and sentenced to life alone.
“Maybe it is.” The admission hurt. Worse than Lillian’s betrayal. Her infidelity had bruised his ego but not his heart. Ruth’s rejection uncovered what love truly entailed. Love is not self-seeking. Pastor Gabe had put it well in his sermon.
Love dictated what he must do. No matter if she forgave him or not, he must set aside his own desires to help her.
“Please leave,” she reiterated.
“Not until I finish what I came here to do. Look at me, Ruth.”
She shook her head.
“Then don’t, but I’m still making you the offer.” He then detailed the duties and wages for the head-of-alterations job. “No one would do better in the position. It would give you the money to pay for your father’s treatment, and in time you could save enough to open another dress shop.”
Her shoulders had stilled, but she wouldn’t look at him. “I’d work for you?”
“No.” That admission took a toll. He’d hoped to stay, to make a life here—one that would someday include Ruth—but that was gone now. “I will go to another store in another city. After the new employees are hired and learn their jobs, you won’t ever see me again. Someone else will take over as store manager.” He hoped it wouldn’t be Harry.
She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “It’s not the same as the dress shop.”
“I know, but I can’t stop Father’s purchase of the property.”
Her back stiffened as if shot. “Your father is the buyer? He’s the one throwing us out?”
Technically, Father wasn’t throwing the Foxes out of their shop, but technicalities didn’t matter when the end result was the same. “I tried to stop him. I told him the property wasn’t worth his while.” He almost revealed how he’d made a higher offer including a large down payment, but it sounded too self-serving.
“But you never told me.” She stared at him with red-rimmed eyes. “All this time you knew what your father was planning, and you never told me.”
Sam struggled to understand why she kept harping on whether or not he had told her. Even if he had, nothing would have changed. “I tried to help. I gave you the idea about turning old dresses into new ones.”
“But you never told me the truth.” She shoved a lock of hair from her brow. “Don’t you understand? Friendship isn’t about business arrangements or who’s right or wrong. It’s about trust. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
Sam stood speechless. Nothing he could say would change her mind. Ruth felt exactly the same as he had the moment he learned Lillian had betrayed him. Nothing he could do would save their relationship. He ought to be grateful to turn his back on this mess, but instead he ached. Deep, deep inside. And, as he took his hat and bid a silent Ruth farewell, he doubted he’d ever feel joy again.
Chapter Sixteen
Ruth held back the tears until Sam closed the screen door. He didn’t slam it. He didn’t yell at her. He left with dignity. And in pain. She’d seen the hurt on his face and couldn’t watch him walk away. Turning, she spotted her sister in the doorway to the living room.
“What happened?” Jen asked.
How could her sister invade such a private moment? “I thought I asked you to watch over Daddy.”
Jen crossed her arms. “No need to throw a conniption. He’s asleep.”
Ruth glanced around the room for something to do. Anything. She did not want to discuss Sam with Jen. She did not want to break down or lash out. Spotting the dirty breakfast and luncheon dishes, she drained hot water from the stove-top tank into the washbasin, donned an apron and grabbed a rag.
“I’m washing dishes, if you care to help.” That ought to send her sister running. Jen detested any kind of housework.
“I think I hear Daddy waking up.” As hoped, Jen darted off to the living room.
Ruth took a deep breath. She needed time to sort out her jumbled feelings. Part of her wanted to yell at Sam and have nothing to do with him. Another part ached for him and the opportunity lost. She had cared for him, or at least for the man she’d thought he was.
The creak of footsteps on the stairs meant she wouldn’t be alone long.
“I’ll help you with those.” Mother crossed the room and pulled a clean drying cloth from the cupboard.
“There aren’t that many dishes. I can do them myself.”
“Perhaps, but I’d like you to explain what’s going on with that young man. Mr. Roth, is it? Minnie didn’t make a bit of sense.”
Ruth shaved some lye soap off the bar. People with more money bought liquid soap. She had to scrimp even on this. Anger drove the knife deep, slicing off a thick curl of soap. Too much. It dropped into the water. Why was everything going wrong? Ruth fought tears of frustration.
Mother lightly touched her arm. “Ruth, dear? We’ve always been able to talk about things. I can see something is bothering you. Let me help.”
Mother had an uncanny ability to untangle difficult emotions. What she lacked in business sense, she more than made up for in relationship sense. But talking about Sam would unleash the tears Ruth struggled to hold inside.
So she shifted to an equally painful yet somehow easier subject. “Daddy isn’t any better, is he?”
Mother did not reply for some time. “This isn’t about your father. You’ve been avoiding the topic of Mr. Roth.”
Ruth scrubbed at the residue of dried oatmeal ringing a bowl and considered how to dismiss her mother’s concern. “I’ve only known him less than two weeks. Since you left. It’s nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing.”
“Well, it is.” Ruth used her fingernail to scrape off a particularly stubborn spot. “It turns out I didn’t know the man at all.” She dunked the bowl in hot rinse water and hurried to the next dish. As the water cooled, the soap would form a film on the surface and stick to the dishes.
“I see.” Mother took the bowl from her and wiped it over and over, as if she couldn’t get it dry enough. “Did I ever tell you that your father and I had a falling-out early in our courtship?”
Ruth shook her head, though she remembered the story well. The sicker Daddy got, the more Mother clung to the memory of their earlier days.
“I thought he had eyes for another girl.” Mother chuckled. “I should have known better. Your father was kind to everyone, but especially to those girls who were ignored by the rest. He’d see a girl sitting by herself and go talk to her. He’d compliment the girls who had to wear patched dresses.”
That was the kind of man Ruth had hoped to meet. Poor but kind. A man whose heart was so filled with the Lord that love overflowed onto everyone around him. Instead, she’d let herself fall for Sam Rothenburg. “It’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it? A little misunderstanding can lead to a terrible rift.”
Ruth stopped scrubbing the next bowl. “It’s not a little misunderstanding. He lied to me.”
“About what?”
“He claimed his name was Sam Roth when he’s actually Sam Rothenburg. And he never mentioned that he was opening a department store next door.”
To her surprise, Mother didn’t look shocked. “Did he tell you why?”
“Does it matter?” Ruth braced the bowl against her lef
t hand and put her weight into scrubbing off the dried oatmeal. “He said he couldn’t tell me the truth because his father insisted he keep his name and the store a secret until the grand opening.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I do.” Ruth dunked the bowl in rinse water. “And I don’t. I thought after all we’d shared that he would trust me.”
“The way you trust him?”
Ruth shoved away a twinge of guilt. Sam didn’t need to know about Jen’s silly marriage idea when it hadn’t amounted to anything. “That’s not the point. He didn’t trust me.”
“Because he wanted to obey his father. Children will go to great lengths to please and even protect their fathers.”
“I don’t think Sam’s doing that.”
“Maybe I’m not talking about Sam.” Mother picked up the bowl and wiped it. “Did you tell us about the sale of the dress-shop property?”
Ruth sucked in her breath. “I didn’t want to worry Daddy.”
“I see. So you made that decision for us.”
Ruth bowed her head. “I did what I thought was right.” But she felt terrible.
“Is it possible that Sam also did what he felt was right? That he didn’t want to worry his father?”
The gentle reprimand hurt. “I suppose so.”
“Then you will grant him the same forgiveness your father and I grant you?”
Ruth scrubbed the bowl with vigor. “It’s too late.”
“You’ll wear through the bowl, dear.” Mother stilled her hands with a touch. “It’s never too late for an apology, especially when that person loves you.”
Something leaped inside Ruth. “Love?”
“I could see it in his eyes.” Mother smiled softly. “Your father looks at me like that sometimes.” She squeezed Ruth’s shoulder. “I treasure every time, knowing it might be the last.”
Ruth’s throat constricted. “It won’t be.”
“It might. That’s the truth, dear. None of us knows the number of our days here on earth, but thanks to Our Lord Jesus, we know eternity awaits us.”
Groom by Design Page 18
