Читать книгу Groom by Design - Christine Johnson - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Ruth selected the plainest dress in her closet. The yellowish-beige calico print drained the color from her complexion. Sam would never notice her in this dress. His gaze would settle instead on Jen.

By the time Ruth descended the stairs, Jen had vanished, in spite of her promise to pack the picnic basket.

“Where did your sister go?” Ruth asked Minnie, who was plunking out a melody on the old piano.

“To the airfield.” Minnie pounded on the middle C key, which stuck in humid weather. “Why can’t we get this fixed?”

“For the same reason we didn’t buy new dresses this year. Daddy’s treatment.”

Minnie’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry for complaining. It’s just that I get so tired of being poor.”

Ruth hugged her baby sister from behind. “Sometimes I get blue, too. Just remember how rich we are in each other.”

“I know, but sometimes I wish I could have something new.”

Ruth suspected this had to do with Minnie’s hope that Reggie would notice her. “I do, too. If I remember right, I have some scraps of brocade that would make a nice little handbag.”

“No, thank you.” Minnie pulled up the stuck key and pushed it down again, where it remained. “This is impossible. I can’t play a thing.”

“Would it help if I sang the note for you?”

“No.” Minnie closed the music book. “You get ready for the picnic. Wear something pretty. It’s your big chance, after all.” She managed half a smile.

The poor girl was definitely pining for Reggie. It would do no good to reveal that Ruth intended this afternoon to be Jen’s big chance, but it wouldn’t happen if her sister didn’t get home soon. “Did Jen say when she’d be back?”

“By one-thirty.”

That didn’t leave enough time to prepare the food for the picnic. Ruth blew out a sigh of frustration. That was Jen. Always racing on to the next exciting thing and forgetting her responsibilities at home.

Ruth headed for the kitchen and spent the next hour fashioning a respectable picnic lunch from leftovers and Mother’s canned peaches and pickled beets. She hoped Sam wasn’t famished, or there wouldn’t be enough to go around.

After packing everything into the basket, she got a niggling feeling that she was forgetting something. One by one she checked off the contents. Lemonade, sandwiches, silverware, napkins, cups...

“Can I at least buy some new sheet music?” Minnie called from the living room.

The mercantile might extend credit for food but not for luxuries. “We haven’t the money.”

Then she remembered what she’d forgotten. Sam’s catalogs. She fetched them from her dresser and tucked them into the side of the basket. As a second thought, she covered them with a napkin. If Minnie saw these lavish catalogs, she would pester Ruth for a new dress.

She’d just finished laying the blanket on top of the basket when Jen bounded through the kitchen door. Ruth glanced at the clock. One-forty.

“You’re late.”

Jen wrinkled her nose. “You’re wearing that dress?”

Ruth smoothed the beige calico skirt. “It’s light and comfortable.”

“It’s ugly and old-fashioned. Sam will never be attracted to you in that.”

That was the point. “Appearance shouldn’t matter.”

Jen rolled her eyes. “Most men aren’t nearly that high-minded. Put on something else. Even your gardening dress is prettier than that.”

Ruth hefted the basket off the table. “There’s no time. It’ll take us twenty minutes to walk to the park. If we want to get there before Sam, we have to leave now.”

Jen groaned. “At least wear a pretty hat.”

Ruth grabbed her straw garden hat with the wide brim. “Minnie, let’s go,” she called out. “Jen, could you fetch two fishing poles from the shed?”

“Why?”

“In case Mr. Roth would like to fish.”

“But you don’t—” Jen’s eyes widened. “Ooooh. That’s the point.” She grinned. “You’re craftier than I thought.”

“I am no such thing.”

Jen’s Cheshire-cat grin only broadened. “I’ll fetch the poles and meet you in the alley.”

Moments later, Ruth led her sisters down Main Street. The park was several blocks away, and with the heavy basket, she had to walk slowly and take many breaks. No breeze had come up yet, and the heat felt oppressive, so she kept to the shaded side of the street.

Half the town had decided to go to the park. The tables in the pavilion were already taken, and a game of baseball commandeered much of the open area. Dogs ran after balls and barked excitedly. Children giggled and squealed in games of tag or ring-around-the-rosy. Ruth had promised Sam that he could find them near the pavilion, so she picked a spot in front of the building.

“It’s in the sun,” Minnie complained. “We’ll die of heat.”

“You’ll be fine.” Ruth set down the basket and pulled off the blanket.

Jen leaned the poles against a tall oak and helped her spread the blanket. In an hour or so, the sun’s travels would bring the shade away from the pavilion and over them. As Ruth smoothed out the blanket, she watched for Sam. Rather than help, Minnie wandered off looking for Reggie. At first Ruth was irritated, but then she realized this could work to her advantage. Once Sam arrived, she’d excuse herself to find Minnie and suggest Jen take Sam fishing.

“He likes you,” Jen said as they settled on the blanket.

Ruth pushed Sam’s catalogs into the bottom of the picnic basket and took out the napkins rather than deal with her sister’s pointed remark.

Jen didn’t give up. “I saw the way he maneuvered into Beattie’s pew so he could sit with you.”

“He was just being helpful.”

“What bachelor volunteers to watch a toddler? Honestly, you’re so blind sometimes.”

Ruth flinched. It wasn’t so much that she was blind to Sam’s attentions, but rather she preferred he direct them toward Jen. Her sister could dazzle a man like Sam, could endlessly entertain him with her crazy ideas and impulsive behavior. Ruth, on the other hand, would soon bore him.

She moved the jar of pickled beets into the shadow of the basket. “You might call it ‘blind.’ I call it ‘realistic.’” She lined up the plates and placed one knife, one fork and one spoon on each, taking care that the knife blade was turned inward.

“Realistic?” Jen snorted. “How dull.”

Ruth choked back a sudden ache. Was she dull? Doomed to a safe life without excitement? Realism guarded against pain. In exchange it demanded the surrender of any chance at limitless joy.

“I’m not like you and Minnie.” Ruth fetched stones to put on each corner of the blanket in case a breeze arose. “I’m a homebody. I prefer a simple life. I like daily routine. Our family is my life.”

“Is that all?” Jen leaned close. “You must want romance. Everyone does.”

Ruth couldn’t admit the ache deep in her heart. “I’ve accepted my place. The dress shop and the family are enough for me.”

Jen handed her a stone. “You’re settling.”

“Maybe I want to settle.” She looked straight into her sister’s eyes. “Don’t worry about me. Find a man you adore, one who loves you with all his heart, and marry him.”

Jen’s eyes twinkled. “Speaking of adoring men, yours is almost here.”

Something between panic and delight jolted Ruth. At the sight of him, she instinctively reached up to check her hair and in the process knocked off her wide-brimmed straw hat. My, Sam was handsome! She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He strode toward her with the casual ease of a man who knew his place in the world. In his hands he carried a small carton tied with string that could have come from only the bakery. And he was within earshot. How much of her conversation had he overheard?

Her nerves fluttered as she smoothed her ragged old dress. Maybe she should have worn something better.

Sam smiled at her and held out the carton. “For you.”

“You didn’t need to bring anything.” Though her knees quaked, she managed to get out the words.

He handed her the carton. “Of course I did.”

His smile sent warmth clear to her toes, but when he bent and retrieved her hat, she nearly stopped breathing.

“I believe you lost this.” He held out the hat.

“Yes. Thank you.” Not one intelligent word remained in her head. She took the hat with her free hand. Now what? Should she set down the cake? Put on her hat? Or invite him to sit?

Pastor Gabe’s wife had noticed Sam’s arrival and was whispering something to her sister-in-law, who’d joined them with her husband for what looked to be a family picnic. The Grattans watched from a table in the pavilion. No doubt they expected a man like Sam to gravitate toward them, not one of the town’s poorer citizens.

Though the corner of Sam’s mouth lifted in a half smile, his gaze took in her dowdy dress. Jen was right. Sam, who loved color, could find nothing appealing in an old beige dress and straw hat. That was precisely why she’d worn it, so why the regret?

“Would you like to walk before dinner?” Sam held out his hand to her, not Jen.

Ruth wasn’t sure she could walk one step. He stood near, so close that his bergamot scent curled around her in a welcoming embrace. Logic dictated he could not possibly be interested in a dull wallflower with glasses, yet he’d asked her to join him.

Though her pulse raced, her practical side urged her to refuse. This course would lead to only humiliation and heartbreak. Yet as he took the carton from her hand and gave it to Jen, she wanted to believe it was possible for a gallant swan to love an ugly old goose in real life as well as the storybooks.

“I’d love to see the river, and I can think of no one better to show me.” Sam held out his arm. “Your sister won’t mind watching over the picnic for a few minutes.”

Though Jen usually balked at anyone assuming she would do something, this time she grinned and waved them on. “Go. I have things under control here.”

Ruth’s heart fluttered wildly. Sam wanted to walk with her, just her, along the river. She glanced at Eloise Grattan and her mother. They’d be so envious, perhaps even incredulous. The most handsome man to set foot in Pearlman wanted to stroll on the river path with Ruth Fox. In full public view.

The path sloped downward through the woods. Directly ahead, a wooden platform had been constructed to provide a view of the river and the pond upstream. Already several rowboats dotted the expanse. He led her onto the overlook. A family crowded the opposite side, the little girl pointing excitedly to a great blue heron stalking through the shallows downriver. Sam paused in the shade of a tall maple. From there, they could admire the pond, where sunlight sparkled off the water like a thousand diamonds.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said softly. The colors of the river—from sapphire to emerald—never failed to inspire gratitude for God’s creation.

Sam settled along the railing beside her. “It is. Almost as pretty as you.”

The compliment heated her cheeks. “I meant the river.”

“I know.” He placed his hand beside hers on the railing.

So close. Almost touching. She could barely breathe.

“What is its name?” Sam asked.

“What? Oh. The river. It’s called the Green River, and that’s Green Lake, even though it’s more like a pond.”

“The Green River. After the color of the water.”

“One of the colors.” She squinted into the sunlight. “It’s clear brown in the shallows and white at the rapids.”

“And on the far side of the pond, it’s ultramarine blue.” He pointed to the northeast, where several boats lingered in the bright sunlight.

“That’s the best fishing hole.”

“I noticed you brought fishing poles. Do you fish?”

Ruth gulped. This was her chance to tout Jen’s ability with rod and reel. Her sister could fly-fish with the boys and outcatch most of them. Ruth should implement her plan, but she couldn’t let go of this moment with Sam.

“I haven’t fished since I was a little girl. Daddy used to bring me and Jen here.”

She must have sighed because he chuckled softly. “Good memories?”

“The best. Though I was a terrible fisherman. My line always got tangled, and the fish would swallow the hook. I never felt them bite. Jen, though, can catch anything.” It hurt to promote her sister, but she mustn’t think of herself. She must consider what was best. “Do you like to fish?”

He shook his head. “Haven’t done it since boyhood.”

What a relief. He wouldn’t want to fish with Jen. “Did your father take you and your brother fishing?”

He looked toward the pond. “We lived near a river. Harry and I would go down there often, but he was the better fisherman.” He turned back with that broad smile. “A bit like you and Jen.”

“Except you probably didn’t kill the fish in the process of catching them. Daddy would scold me, and I felt terrible.” A sudden pang of regret caught the words in her throat. She swallowed hard and leaned on the railing for support. “I stopped going along. I—I wish I hadn’t. But you can’t turn back time.”

“No, you can’t.” He sounded almost wistful, memories playing across his face for just an instant before he shut them down. “But we could give it a try. What do you say we take those poles of yours and throw in a line?”

Fish with Sam? She couldn’t cast a fly. Hadn’t attempted it since she was ten or twelve. If she tried now, the hook would end up caught in a tree or—even worse—in his clothing. That was not the kind of catching Jen had in mind with her marriage idea.

“No.” She shook her head. “No, Jen’s the better fisherman.”

If he were disappointed, it didn’t show. He shifted his weight, and his hand grazed hers, sending a pleasant warmth up her arm. This was a man who would take care of those he loved. He would protect and hold them close. The way he’d stepped in to help Beattie revealed his generous, compassionate nature.

“It’s not about the catching,” he said. “It’s about enjoying time with someone, like you did with your father.” His smile could light a cathedral, but it couldn’t dispel the pang of regret that hit her at the mention of her father.

She bowed her head. Daddy might never come home. He might never fish again. She had wasted precious years.

Sam laid his hand on hers. “You love your father dearly, don’t you?”

She drew in a shaky breath. How could she explain? All her life she’d known her father suffered from a weak heart, but his condition had grown worse in the past year. Many days he’d stayed on the sofa or in bed. He hadn’t gone to the shop since October. Mother had brought the ledgers home then, so he could keep the accounts, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t do even that. The sanitarium was his last hope. She blinked back tears.