Probably not at dinner though. That certainly won't do me any favors regarding my mother.
“Come on, Ruthless.” I grab her by the hand when she comes close enough to reach. Then I scoop Birdie up off the floor, holding her in the crook of one arm as I tug Ruth out into the hall. “The longer we put this off, the harder it’s going to be.”
I’m essentially dragging my partner in crime through the house. But, as I’m a little concerned she’s not going to come willingly, I keep my grip tight and lead Ruth into the kitchen, a smile I hope will make it seem like everything’s fine plastered on my face.
My mother focuses on us immediately, dropping whatever she’s been working on to the counter before wiping her hands as she comes toward us. “There they are.” She gives Ruth a warm smile. “My kids always picked the worst possible times to need a diaper change, too.”
Ruth manages what could be considered a smile if you don’t know her. The expression tightens more and more as my mother closes in on us, until it looks almost painful stretched across her pretty features.
“You must be Ruth.” My mother stops right in front of herand I hold my breath, uncertain what she’s going to say or do next.
Ruth is the first woman to come to family dinner night who my mother doesn’t already know in some way. She hired Mariah to work for Titus, and had a decade-long friendship with Brooke. Pulling them into our fold was easy and natural because they were already technically in it.
But Ruth is different. In so many ways.
My mother lifts one hand, like she’s going to reach for her, but quickly clenches her fingers into a fist, letting it drop back by her side. Her smile stays warm and genuine when she says, “I’m so very glad you were able to join us tonight.”
There is no hint of suspicion in her tone. Just pure honesty.
Ruth seems to sense it too, because the tension tightening her body seems to ease a little, and her smile becomes more genuine as she says, “Thank you. So am I.”
My mom gazes at her for a second longer before turning to the little girl in my arms. Her expression changes in a flash, brightening with excitement. “And you must be the famous Birdie.”
Birdie grins widely, putting all her perfect little baby teeth on display. One hand stretches in the direction of my mother’s face, and I quickly take a step back, warning, “Watch her finger.”
But my mother is oblivious to anything I’m saying or doing. All her attention is on who she likely sees as her newest grandbaby. Again, her hands are up, but she hesitates, turning to Ruth to ask, “Is it okay if I hold her?”
I love how careful my family is being with these two. The respect they’re showing Ruth as a mother and the autonomy they're so careful to give Birdie. I wish I could tell them how grateful I am, but that would step dangerously close to putting myself in a position where I might spill more than I should. So all I can do is watch and appreciate the people I was lucky enough tobe given on this earth as they dote on the little girl I’m trying—and failing—to not grow attached to.
My mother scoops her from my arms, happiness written all over her face as she tells the toddler how happy she is to meet her and that she has a special place to sit at the table and new toys to play with after we eat. She goes to the island where Trevor is stealing veggies from a tray, and I have to think she chooses him on purpose. Like maybe she wants to gauge his reaction to a kid. Trevor’s been around the babies plenty, but they’re different from a walking, somewhat talking, little human.
Like me, Ruth is watching the whole interaction, but her expression is unreadable.
Mostly.
Reaching out, I hook an arm around her waist, bringing her body to mine as I lean close. “Does all this feel weird?”
“Very.” Her eyes swing to my face before going back to where Birdie is babbling at my mom and brother. “I don’t really have any family, so I’ve never seen her in a situation like this before.” She swallows, the line of her throat flexing as she sniffs. “It makes me a little sad.”
I don’t expect Ruth to tell me all her deepest darkest secrets, but I wish she would. If for no other reason than so I could better understand what she’s gone through. I know there’s no way for me to fix it—I learned long ago pain and sadness aren’t emotions that can be repaired—I just hate that she’s feeling alone.
Since I have no right to ask the questions I’m desperate to have answered, I circle my other arm around her and bring her in for a hug, pressing my face into the sweetly scented fall of her dark hair. “I’m sorry you’re sad.”
I don’t know if my words will help anything—don’t know if they would have ever helped me—but they’re the best I have to offer. I wish there was more I could do or say, but there’s not.
Nothing fixes the sort of ache she carries. That I carry. The only thing you can do is ensure it never gets worse.
Ruth goes still against me for a second, but then she must remember where we are and what we’re supposed to be doing. Her arms come around me, circling my waist in a surprisingly tight grip as she presses her face into my chest, pulling in a deep breath. “Thank you.”
I run a hand up and down her back, trying to offer what little comfort I can as she stays tucked close. It’s the sort of embrace I’ve never experienced with a woman who wasn’t my mother. One built out of comfort and connection. Care and concern. Even then, I was the one on the receiving end. And I have to say, it feels just as good where I’m standing now.
But it’s over before I can fully enjoy it, because Ruth gasps, her head tipping back so suddenly the top of her skull bumps my chin, slamming my teeth together. She winces as her eyes land on my face. “Sorry.” Her fingers come up to press against my chin like she’s checking for injury. “I just remembered we forgot your dessert in the side-by-side.”
Before I can tell her I’ll take care of it, Ruth has turned away, pulling out of my grip to dart for the back door. Realistically, I know the chances of her crossing paths with one of the many creatures of the night is slim to none, but I’m still a little edgy after Matt showed up here looking for Brooke. If that dumbass can find our home, who’s to say the one harassing Ruth can’t?
So I trail behind her, catching up as she ducks out the door.
Ruth jumps when she sees me. “You didn’t have to come. I’m just gonna grab it real quick.”
