when Ruth was around. It was just another small spot of frustration for him.
When he was a kid, Martha would sail out the front door with familiar confidence. He recalled several times when his mother and Martha went Christmas shopping together. Employer and employee they might have been, but they’d also been friends. Another difference between Amelia Quincy and his Ruthie. His mother treated the staff like family and consequently, they’d all been loyal to her. But to Ruth they were servants, nothing more. He loved her more than his own life, but he wasn’t blind or obtuse, either.
He wheeled over to the elevator, which he’d had installed when he finally accepted he’d be bound to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. As the doors swished closed, Ronald rested his head against the padded chair cushion and wished he didn’t feel so exhausted. Most of the time he handled the repercussions of his stroke fairly well, considering he was confined to this damned chair. But stress always complicated things, and today had certainly held its share of negative emotion.
He’d never been able to make Ruth understand that the circumstances of a person’s arrival into the world had no bearing on their overall worth. Her past was proof that anyone could rise above the circumstances of their birth. How such an important lesson had escaped Ruth’s instruction, he didn’t know.
How was he going to smooth this mess over?
The silence in Travis’s Beemer was broken only by the occasional swish of the windshield wipers. Annie sat with one hand tucked in her pocket and the other pressed against Travis’s knee. Through her woolen glove she could feel the heat of his skin and the way his leg muscles tensed and relaxed as he shifted and accelerated. They both needed the contact.
“Are you okay?” At his concerned inquiry, she turned to him, and her heart melted as she saw the way he gazed at her. At a stop light in the middle of Thompkin Square, his hand cupped her cheek. When she nodded, he smiled and the pad of his thumb brushed against her lips, before he turned his attention back to the road. To her, the caress felt like a kiss.
Before they approached the turnoff for Spring Street, she grabbed his arm. “Can we just park somewhere for a while? I don’t want to go home yet.”
Slowing the car, he pulled to the side of the road and shifted into neutral, then glanced at the illuminated clock on the dash. “Annie, it’s almost eleven. I promised your mother I’d have you back by then. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your folks.”
“They won’t be mad. They trust me, and they trust you, enough to know if I’m late there’d be a good reason. Please, Travis. Just for a little while.”
Her tense shoulders sagged in relief when he nodded. “Okay. Maybe your daddy won’t pound on me too hard for keeping you out past eleven.”
Without another word, he turned the car around and headed for Boggy Creek Lane. Luckily for them, the wide lane wasn’t too muddy with melted snow. He parked the car and killed the headlights, but left the engine idling. In silence, they unfastened their seat belts and reached for the comfort of each other’s arms. She wanted Travis to kiss her so badly, but once he did, chances were they’d both be unable to stop. And they needed to talk out what happened that evening.
Travis pulled back to look into her eyes and whispered, “I’m so sorry my mother acted that way. So sorry she hurt you.”
“I just want to know why. Don’t you? Don’t you want to know why she hates me, Travis? She’s always hated me, right from the first. I used to think she’d hate any girl who liked you, but it’s only me, isn’t it? She likes that other girl, that Catherine, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. I don’t like to admit it, but you’re right. And I want to know why, too.” His palm soothed over her hair as he mused, “For some reason Dad thinks she needs to be the one who tells us.
When he was a kid, Martha would sail out the front door with familiar confidence. He recalled several times when his mother and Martha went Christmas shopping together. Employer and employee they might have been, but they’d also been friends. Another difference between Amelia Quincy and his Ruthie. His mother treated the staff like family and consequently, they’d all been loyal to her. But to Ruth they were servants, nothing more. He loved her more than his own life, but he wasn’t blind or obtuse, either.
He wheeled over to the elevator, which he’d had installed when he finally accepted he’d be bound to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. As the doors swished closed, Ronald rested his head against the padded chair cushion and wished he didn’t feel so exhausted. Most of the time he handled the repercussions of his stroke fairly well, considering he was confined to this damned chair. But stress always complicated things, and today had certainly held its share of negative emotion.
He’d never been able to make Ruth understand that the circumstances of a person’s arrival into the world had no bearing on their overall worth. Her past was proof that anyone could rise above the circumstances of their birth. How such an important lesson had escaped Ruth’s instruction, he didn’t know.
How was he going to smooth this mess over?
The silence in Travis’s Beemer was broken only by the occasional swish of the windshield wipers. Annie sat with one hand tucked in her pocket and the other pressed against Travis’s knee. Through her woolen glove she could feel the heat of his skin and the way his leg muscles tensed and relaxed as he shifted and accelerated. They both needed the contact.
“Are you okay?” At his concerned inquiry, she turned to him, and her heart melted as she saw the way he gazed at her. At a stop light in the middle of Thompkin Square, his hand cupped her cheek. When she nodded, he smiled and the pad of his thumb brushed against her lips, before he turned his attention back to the road. To her, the caress felt like a kiss.
Before they approached the turnoff for Spring Street, she grabbed his arm. “Can we just park somewhere for a while? I don’t want to go home yet.”
Slowing the car, he pulled to the side of the road and shifted into neutral, then glanced at the illuminated clock on the dash. “Annie, it’s almost eleven. I promised your mother I’d have you back by then. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your folks.”
“They won’t be mad. They trust me, and they trust you, enough to know if I’m late there’d be a good reason. Please, Travis. Just for a little while.”
Her tense shoulders sagged in relief when he nodded. “Okay. Maybe your daddy won’t pound on me too hard for keeping you out past eleven.”
Without another word, he turned the car around and headed for Boggy Creek Lane. Luckily for them, the wide lane wasn’t too muddy with melted snow. He parked the car and killed the headlights, but left the engine idling. In silence, they unfastened their seat belts and reached for the comfort of each other’s arms. She wanted Travis to kiss her so badly, but once he did, chances were they’d both be unable to stop. And they needed to talk out what happened that evening.
Travis pulled back to look into her eyes and whispered, “I’m so sorry my mother acted that way. So sorry she hurt you.”
“I just want to know why. Don’t you? Don’t you want to know why she hates me, Travis? She’s always hated me, right from the first. I used to think she’d hate any girl who liked you, but it’s only me, isn’t it? She likes that other girl, that Catherine, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. I don’t like to admit it, but you’re right. And I want to know why, too.” His palm soothed over her hair as he mused, “For some reason Dad thinks she needs to be the one who tells us.
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