Patterns of Swallows Read Online Free PDF Page B

boot from one of the more destructive
squatters. Some walls had no panelling at all, leaving dirty
insulation to sag out without restraint. Insects of more varieties
than Ruth knew existed had overrun the place. The mice gloried in
their heyday as lords of the manor.
    It was impossible. The whole
thing was utterly impossible. At least for her and at least right
then. She'd have to sleep on it, and see how things looked to her in
the morning.
    Her first night back, she found
her mother's few remaining belongings stored in the attic and rolled
up in a quilt on the bare, hardwood floor of the cleanest room she
could find (which was only filthy). The quilt reeked of mothballs.
In the morning, she'd have to see if the old wringer washer was still
in the washing shed by the house. But there was nothing she could do
about the mothballs or the dirt or the hard floor that night. As
exhausted as she was from the bus ride into Arrowhead and the long
walk out to the farm from the depot with her one suitcase, sleep was
in short supply.
    *
    * *
    When word got around town that
Ruth was back at the Chavinski farm, it was the Saturday after Ruth's
arrival that Bo Weaver, Philippa and Mrs. Handy, and a few of Bo's
friends came out for a work bee. Even Wynn came and stayed an hour
or two. Ruth had been on the farm by herself for three days, and the
human contact was more than welcome. As was the volunteer labour.
    Cleaning was one of Ruth's
least-favourite jobs, but she wasn't much use at the bigger jobs.
She had to let the men handle them while she, Wynn, Philippa and her
mother, and the other women cleaned.
    Bo's boss at the apple packing
shed, Eddie Hoffstetter, came along and brought his wife plus a few
of the other apple shed employees. There was the prevalent party
atmosphere usual to work bees: friendly insults back and forth
between the men and small gossip and comfortable commonplaces amongst
the women. Ruth had no refreshments to serve, but Mrs. Hoffstetter,
anticipating that, had brought sweet apple cider and cookies for
everyone, and most of the workers brought lunch pails and thermoses,
expecting to make a full day of it.
    By suppertime Saturday, most of
the big jobs were finished. The house was bare, but clean and
respectably fixed-up.
    Ruth never knew for sure who to
thank for the thought and the impetus behind the work bee, so she
thanked all the volunteers repeatedly, especially Bo as the most
likely instigator.
    After that Saturday, it began to
feel as though she lived somewhere again. There were a few pieces of
old furniture in one of the sheds that could be rescued and restored.
She found the old bike in the barn and discovered that it still
worked with a little greasing-up. She'd need something for
transportation back and forth into town if she was going to find a
job. And she desperately needed a job.
    She would have felt much easier
in her mind at that moment if she could have known all about Jim and
Morning Glory Metzke. But then, none of us can know the future.

Chapter
4
    The morning after Marjorie
Trapwell's wedding dance, the moment Ruth was awake, she knew trouble
had found her.
    It was an unfamiliar feeling but
one she could immediately put a name to though she tried hard not to
put the name to it. The sensation was as if some lighter-than-air
substance had invaded her entire body and settled down into her
stomach. To her still sleep-frowsed mind the image appeared of being
trapped inside a soap bubble, all shiningness and rainbow iridescence
in the sunlight, carried off against her knowledge and will wherever
the breeze took her. It was a very helpless feeling but a nearly
irresistible one.
    She got up and dressed for work
and tried to think about something else. But nothing else to think
about occurred to her just then. At least, not that she could think
about for very long. Her thoughts continuously returned to the
lighter-than-air sensation.
    She didn't see Graham again for
more than two weeks. She wasn't