“Why ever not?” Peter waded over towards her and thrust his handsome, lightly bearded face right in hers. “Ruth. This isn’t like you.” He was enunciating fiercely.
To escape the intense heat they had waded a little way out into the shallow, swampy water. Beyond them, dream-like, the thick lily pads were rustling in the heavy August breeze.
It never was like this before. Always he had treated her like someone precious. This certainly was not what she imagined for this important afternoon. Seeing him so angry, she hardly knew what to do. And now, of all times. Bewildered, she held back, working his little silver, forget-me-knot ring around her sweaty finger as if it might provide an answer. But unfortunately, because of her silence, Peter’s annoyance was growing.
“What on earth is the matter with you?” he demanded. He was looming over her, his irritation making his voice ugly. “You’ve always been glad enough to before, for God’s sake.” Ruth glanced away, wishing for an escape. That had sounded almost like a sneer.
Next he tried reproach: “And who knows how many more times we’ll have a chance like this before I have to go back to the city?” Feeling his nearness, she was dazzled all over again in spite of herself. Tentatively, her fingers reached over to touch his warm, glistening arm.
On this, one of the hottest days of a hot summer, they had met over by the farthest bay of the lake, as they did on Ruth’s afternoons off. Because this part of the shore was weedy, nobody else ever came this far along the beach. Thinking what she should do, Ruth hitched the red gypsy skirt she had put on for Peter higher above her knees and waded deeper, scaring a little family of brown ducks out of the shallows. Never, for even a minute, had it occurred to her that it would be like this. He loved her. She knew he did.
“No, Peter. Not now. I can’t. You know I would if I could,” she pleaded. “You don’t understand. Wait a minute. I’m trying to tell you. Just wait.” She bit her lip, her cheeks flushed under the burning sun. Stalling for time, swishing her feet through the tepid water, she was not looking at him. “Why are you being like this?” she asked him. “This isn’t like you.” Getting no response, she blurted, “I’m pregnant.” And then an unvoiced shriek of denial rose up in her. It simply could not be her, Ruth, saying this.
“I know. It wasn’t supposed to happen,” she offered humbly, sounding foolish even to her own ears.
She kept waiting for him to speak, but all he did was stare out over the shimmering lily pads, his face grim and closed so that she couldn’t make him out. “Peter,” she urged in her cool, low voice, trying again, “we always said we were going to be together. Now, it will just be a bit sooner, that’s all. Oh,” her face grew tender as she imagined how he must feel, trying to take in her startling confession, “for sure it’ll be different from what we planned. There will be three of us now, instead of just two. But we love each other, Peter. It will just take some getting used to, that’s all.” She blew out the way her horses did. “As long as we’re together. That’s all that matters,” she encouraged him. “You are the one who always says that.” She was talking too much. She knew it. She gave a silly little smile, waiting, staring at a shiny beetle clinging to one of the swaying leaves.
Abruptly, Peter answered her. His voice, although tense, was methodical. “Wait. Just wait one minute. Let’s go back a step here. Just what exactly do you mean? Together? Ruth! You know perfectly well that’s not possible. If you remember, when we talked about living together, we were talking about a year from now. You know as well as I do that I’ve got to finish my Masters before I could possibly afford to keep you.”
She didn’t know that. What would she know about a Masters and what it might mean? Of course she knew Peter was a graduate student, who was here at Haley’s Narrows for the summer, doing some sort of research. Ginny, who came in to wash dishes at the boarding house, had told her that long before he had even spoke to her. But she had no real idea what this involved. How could she? She, Ruth, who had spent all her school days plotting how, at the earliest possible moment, she would escape forever from that hated environment. And indeed, this past June she did exactly that. She didn’t even bother to go to her graduation. Nobody at school expected that she would. And certainly, nobody at home would have cared to see her walk across that stage either. Peter never talked to her about what he did. Their times together weren’t like that. (There was that private glow again.) In fact, as their blissful summer played out, they prided themselves that their love was so strong that they barely needed words.
“But you said we were going to be together. All along. That was what we planned.” She bunched up her heavy dark hair and thrust it away from her scorching face. ‘I don’t ever want to lose you. We’ll go together.’ You said that. Now, or later, what does it matter? You promised.” She still didn’t understand. Meanwhile, Peter was staring at her as if he had never seen her before.
Finally, shaking his head, he gripped her arm and led her back closer to the shore. Then he backed off onto the grass by himself, pacing barefoot. So achingly handsome. It was as if all the light was gathered around him. There was never anyone else like him. She never could have cared about anyone else the way she did about him.
Step, step, turn. Step, step, turn, he went. After a while, smoothly, coldly, he told her: “Well then, let’s never mind about that for now. The first thing we need to think about is getting you taken care of, my girl. Do you know any one around here you could go to?”
“Care of?” She could hardly breathe in the steamy heat.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ruth. You know as well as I do that this is impossible.” Peter took another tight breath.
“Fine,” he went on, staring out over the dull lake as if she didn’t even exist. “I can find someone in the city for you. I’ll ask around. It happens to lots of girls.”
With that, Ruth was herself again. More herself than she had ever been. She sloshed toward him, feeling the soft lake bottom squish up between her bare toes. “I can’t believe you’re saying this,” she gasped. “You can’t mean it.”
“Oh come now, Ruth. Come on.” He was speaking smoothly now. “Surely you never really imagined that this would work.
“All right,” he backtracked. (Perhaps he understood something, a very little, of her fury.) “Maybe if it had just been the two of us, we could have kept on together over the winter. But for heaven’s sake, be reasonable. Surely you must know as well as I do that this is impossible. This was never supposed to happen. You and me. A baby. How could you even think of it? It’s crazy, Ruth.”
The words rushed out of her: “You never meant it. Did you? Well did you? The promises. The love. Nothing. None of it ever meant a single thing to you, did it?” The hem of her ravishing skirt was draggled, muddy and wet, but she wasn’t noticing. Slowly it was coming to her: “You...don’t...even...care. You never did.”
Shaken, he gave a little. Care? How could he not love her? He had never felt the way he did with this surprising, fiery girl, who gave and gave of herself, with no counting of costs. “Oh yes, Ruth, I did. I loved–I love you.” Inwardly he couldn’t help adding ‘you have no idea how much.’ “But it’s too soon,” he pleaded. “You’re not listening to me. You don’t understand. I–don’t–want–a–kid.” She flinched as if struck. “I never did and I never will. It’s simply not me. There’s too much else in my life already without that. I’m not ready for that yet–if I ever will be.” He was walking away from her, in circles, trying desperately to work his way out of this horror.
“And think about it, Ruth. You’d have to live in the city. Just what would you do there? You’d hate Dundas. And how do you suppose you would get on with my friends? What would you say to them? They think Haley’s Narrows is the back of beyond. They laugh at me for coming here. What would they think of you–just out of high school? Breaking horses isn’t going to get you far with them, nor waiting tables at a boarding house, either, for that matter.
“Be reasonable.” He almost reached out to stroke her fine, dark hair the way he would on other days, gentling her, making her more his than ever. “Just do this one thing for me, Ruth. Just go in and have it over with. You surely don’t think I would ever send you to someone unsafe? I’ll go with you. I wouldn’t make you do it by yourself. And once you’ve got it over with, we can be the same as before. You want that, don’t you? I’ll come and see you over the winter–when I can, and we can write,” Consoling. “And then next spring when I’ve graduated, that’ll be time enough for us to think about our future. I don’t want to lose you.” (There is no way he would let her know how much he didn’t want to.) “Surely you trust me. ...Don’t you?”
In a flying aside to herself, she flashed “Oh, so that’s how it is. I should have known.” Other times he had insisted that it didn’t matter that she only had a high school diploma. That nothing mattered except the way they felt about each other. But leave that alone for now, there was only one thing she could think about in the craziness of this afternoon.
“How could you possibly think,” She was speaking as distinctly as he was now. “that I would ever, ever, ever, even for one small minute, think of getting rid of my—our–baby? I guess you don’t know me at all. Peter! How could you think such a thing?” She thought that he didn’t even look as if he is listening, but she went on, like a whirlwind. “This baby was made out of love. Sure we made a mistake,” (She was only dimly beginning to see how big a mistake.) “but he shouldn’t have to pay for that. He deserves to be loved. Anyway, I thought we had enough love to take care of all three of us. If we love each other, surely we can find a way. Can’t we?”
Still he wouldn’t look at her. She was beseeching him now, her speech coming out in jerks. “I don’t understand you. I can’t believe this. Talk to me. Please....”
But panicky, incredulous, Peter wasn’t hearing her. His voice was shrill. “What about me? You’ve got to think of it from my point of view. Do you want to ruin everything? All my hard work? The best thing I ever did? It wasn’t easy, coming out here to this god-forsaken place, miles away from anyone. But I did it. I’ve got all the research I need. And now: you think I should give up? Now, when I’m so close to finishing? Is that it? And do what, Ruth? Find some dead-end office job, I suppose. Is that what you want?
“Oh Christ, I should have known. You’re all of you the same. You’d all eat the goodness out of a man as soon as look at one. Ruth: hear me. There is no possible way I want this baby.”
The horizon was a mirage. A cicada screamed from the nearby woods. Silently, she looked down, ignoring her treacherous stomach, staring at her muddy, strong feet instead, with their foolish sugar pink nail polish. She was afraid now, afraid because she knew without question what she had to say next. “I can’t give him up Peter. I won’t. Don’t you see: it’s not his fault. There isn’t a good enough reason for him not to live.” She paused to give him time, but there was no relenting, comforting response. “If I have to,” she warned, “I’ll look after him myself. I will.”
“But Ruth,” There was the scornful patience again. “You must know that you can’t keep a baby. How exactly do you think you would look after it? – On a waitress’ pay? And anyhow, do you suppose for one minute that Mrs. Wesson will keep you on when she finds out? What are you going to do–have it at home with Ida and Frank? And just how long do you think that would work? You can’t stand Frank as it is. And Ida–she may be your mother, but he’s got her just where he wants her. She’d never take your side against Frank’s. Surely even you know that.”
In a fury, Ruth splashed out of the water, and stormed over to him. Full of scorn, her hands on her hips, she stared him straight in the face. “You don’t want him. That’s it then. I guess you never really wanted me, either. OK, fine. You don’t even deserve us. I trusted you. Our love was precious to me.” Sacred, she thought. “And all the time, you were just using me. Look at you. Sneering at me because I’m not educated like you. What would your fine friends think? Oh dear. Actually, I think I’m going to be a whole lot better off without you.
“Just a summer fling. That was all. Well, I’m not like that, Peter. You should have known better. And, you know what, I don’t plan on ever being like that, either. When I say something, I mean it. And don’t you worry yourself one little bit. I can so look after myself. I’ll be fine. You’ll see. No sir. Don’t you worry. I wouldn’t dream of asking you for anything. In fact, I never want to see you again. You’re not worth it.” She wiped her wet, muddy feet hastily on the long grass and jammed them into the foolish, teetery sandals that were so unlike her.
Heartsick, she turned, still as amazingly light as ever, while Peter stared, mesmerized. Her red skirt was swaying and her long, rich hair, the best thing about her, was swishing as, lean, lithe and surprisingly tall, she walked steadily away from him. Her back was as defiantly straight as ever. “She’s not even trying to be reasonable,” he told himself.
* * * *
So there Ruth was, walking and walking away from all her happiness. She was shaking with anger, her knees were bowing over with sorrow, but she was not turning. Not even once. She would not yield. She would not let him see with even one single fiber of her being how it was with her.
All the same, as soon as she had rounded the distant bend in the lane, and knew she no longer could be seen, even her fiery will could not keep the raw pain from welling up inside her.
Oh, whatever would she do now?
There was nothing for her at home.
. . . .
