4. He Didn’t See the Possibility #2
“Paulie the Possum’s struck again, huh?”
Ruth pointed at a row of mangled tomato bushes. “That bloody terror ate my whole crop!”
“We can put up some netting if you want.”
“I’m willing to try anything at this point. We’ll figure out a day around your work next week. But right now, forget it. I’m starving!” Her fingers fumbled in the dirt. “Where the heck—” Her hand froze. “Aha! Found it!”
Her cane popped out from under the pumpkin vine in a rain of soil, and she anchored it into the path and pushed up to her feet. She wobbled, always a little unsteady at first, and when a grimace tugged at her lips, my hand shot out, ready.
Her face stayed hidden under her hat, but I didn’t need to see her eyes to know she was glaring at me. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “I can do it myself.”
It took a few shaky steps for Ruth to get started down the path, but once she had a good rhythm, her pace quickened.
Her chin tipped up with another crooked grin—a silent “I told you so” I’d seen a thousand times.
She was gloating, but I didn’t mind. Not one bit.
She was walking. And as I followed Ruth into the kitchen, the sight of the jagged scars carved into her legs reminded me how much rehab she’d pushed herself through to be walking at all.
With a wave of her cane and a shout over her shoulder to “Make yourself comfortable!” she disappeared to the bathroom to wash up.
Comfortable?
I snorted, and the box of groceries hit the countertop with a thud. The last ten years of my life had been like the shirt I’d shrunk in the dryer. A size too small. Suffocating. Worse than a straitjacket. Make myself comfortable? Yeah, right.
I just had to keep moving. My mind couldn’t start spinning fairytales again. If the sweet woman twirling that damn scam jam in her fingers hadn’t landed in town, the idea of me settling down would still be dead and buried—where it belonged.
I unpacked the fruit and vegetables from the box, arranging everything in Ruth’s neatly labelled containers in the fridge. A flip of the switch and the kettle was on. Out came the coffee pot. What next? Maybe I should start on some sandwiches…
“Aiden?”
The uneven pad of feet slowed through the kitchen doorway. I glanced up. Ruth’s dark hair dripped in thin, wet strings down her back. The corners of her mouth drooped lower and lower as her eyes flicked between the coffee and mugs before landing on the snacks cluttering the wooden dining table.
Grumbling, Ruth said, “I could’ve helped with some of that.
” Her cane nudged out a chair, and I was careful not to offer my hand when she eased down.
“I’m disappointed Harry couldn’t make it today.
I feel like the two of us haven’t been able to gang up on you in weeks.
” Grinning, she grabbed a jam drop from the box.
“His mum’s not doing well at the moment.” Nothing more needed to be said about that. Ruth understood. “But he ran the gauntlet to get you those biscuits. He wanted to be sure he got credit for them.”
“He was at the markets?”
“Yeah.”
“Who else was there this morning?”
My hand paused, floating over the sandwich on my plate. The smile flashing my way might have looked innocent to anyone else, but I’d known this woman for thirty years. The mischievous glint in her dark eyes was as clear as day to me. She was up to something.
Still all innocence, Ruth asked, “Did you run into anyone interesting?”
“Like who?”
“I dunno.” She nibbled her biscuit. “The lovely Dr. Hughes, perhaps?”
“Have you been gossiping with one of your friends from the church?”
“Maybe.”
“So… yes.”
She grinned. “I’m sure Yolanda will have an interesting update about what’s been happening in town when she stops by for a coffee tomorrow.”
“It’ll be a quick update. I talked to Lo— Dr. Hughes for all of one minute.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Jam.”
“Sure.” Ruth scoffed a laugh. “Jam.”
Frustrated by the direction the conversation was heading in, I dragged my palm down my face. “Look, Lola bought one of those tiny bloody jars Rose sells at the markets. Strawberry, if I remember correctly.”
“Uh-huh.”
“She did.”
“Are we really still pretending you haven’t been raving about this woman for weeks?”
I grunted. Yeah, we were going to keep pretending that. Hunching over the table, I picked up my sandwich and took a huge bite. The more occupied my mouth was, the less likely I was to admit something stupid.
“Let’s see.” Ruth tapped her chin as she listed all the dumb things I must have gushed without realising. “Lola loves reading. She cooks. Bakes. Oh, but not caramel. She’s interested in growing her own herbs. And she must love the colour pink because she wears it so often.”
I swallowed a hunk of sandwich and ground out, “That proves nothing.”
“And when I asked you if she was pretty—”
“I didn’t say one damn word.”
“You didn’t need to. Your face did all the talking. Your ears were redder than a fire truck!”
I sank lower on the chair as heat boiled up my neck. I had a feeling my face—and my stupid ears—had betrayed me all over again.
“Have you asked her out yet?” Ruth nudged.
“No.”
“When—”
“Never.”
“Aiden—”
“This conversation is over, Ruthie girl. I love you. I do. But please don’t interfere in this. Tell your friends from the church to back off, too. Lola and me…”
Ruth’s good hand reached across the table and clasped mine. “You could be perfect. Together .”
“I don’t do relationships. You know that.”
“Only because you hadn’t met the right person.”
Shaking my head, I squeezed Ruth’s hand before shifting mine out of her reach. “Leave it, okay?”
Ruth gave me a lopsided smile, but the scheming behind her eyes was impossible to miss.
She had no plan to drop her quest. If anything, her coffee catch-up with Yolanda would only stir up more drama.
And honestly? I didn’t mind. If the universe was determined to throw Lola in my path, I wasn’t about to waste a single second I could spend with her.
But I’d keep my distance.
I refused to ruin her too.