On Wings of Love

“How old is this spare?” Noah continued moments later, thrusting his other thoughts back into the dark recesses of his mind. He glanced at his watch. Twenty after ten. Good thing he’d decided to tape his regular late night shows since seeing them at their regularly scheduled time wasn’t an option anymore.

“Five years. Probably as old as the car. Why?” Ruth drew her eyebrows together.

“It may not get you home, and you look ready to drop. How far away do you live?” Noah wrestled with his conscience and scraped a hand through his hair. If her spare blew, she’d be stranded along the road. Not an option. Even in the dim light filtering down from the streetlamp, he could see the fatigue shadowing the delicate skin under her eyes.

“About ten miles from here. How do you know I may not get home? I see people drive around with these all the time.”

“Experience. I’ll follow you.” Michelle had had a similar incidence occur early in their marriage. Plus Noah’s mother would have his hide if she found out he let Ruth drive home without making sure she made it safely.

“That’s really not necessary.”

“It is. I’ll be right behind you. Don’t take the freeway or drive over forty-five miles an hour. And here. My cell is listed on my card in case you have any other problems.”

Ruth bristled but accepted Noah’s business card. His attitude reminded her of her older brothers. Which, in the stillness of the late evening, might not be such a bad thing after all.

Weariness bit into her body as she drove home, making sure to follow Noah’s advice. If her spare blew, she’d have no transportation at all, and she didn’t want to rely on his services again. She couldn’t wait for a nice, long hot bath and that pint of ice cream to soothe her muscles. If only it would do something to soothe her mind. The pain written in Noah’s eyes followed her all the way from the parking lot like the real Noah did in his white truck. There, but not there.

On autopilot, she turned down the darkened street illuminated by overhead streetlights where her small three-bedroom house sat at the end of the cul-de-sac. The one-story slump block house in an older area of Scottsdale was too big for just herself, but something about it had fulfilled a need inside her.

Her headlights caught the neighbor’s black and white cat as it ran across the street and on to her front porch. Great. Why couldn’t the cat find another place to hide? Like under her other neighbor’s Camaro that he always left parked in front of her house.

Stifling a yawn, she pushed the garage door opener. As she waited, she stared at the tiny porch almost hidden by the overgrown fuchsia bougainvilleas planted on either side. Tomorrow she’d do a much-needed trim session on all her plants and trees and try to work off the feelings brought to the surface by Noah Barton.

By doing something productive, she could retain some semblance of order. Unlike Noah’s attitude, her sister’s death or all the sick children in the hospital waiting for her to bring them a transplant, Ruth had the power to control her yard, her laundry and even her emotions.

Somewhat. She’d forgotten to finish the laundry she’d started the other day. Before she pulled into her garage, she opened her window, mouthed a thank-you and waved goodbye. Noah’s headlights flashed across the exterior of her house as he slowly rounded the cul-de-sac before driving away.

Once inside the kitchen, she flipped on the lights, dropped her bag on the table, placed her uneaten dinner in the refrigerator and then scooped up the mail she’d overlooked yesterday. Then she headed for the phone. She’d been gone all day. Even a friendly sales call message would be welcome right about now.

The quiet didn’t usually bother her, but with the memories of Rachel and Bonnie hovering near the surface, the stillness brought home the fact that something was missing out of her life. Burying the need for a companion with work and volunteering wasn’t working as well as it had before. Her “one day” had changed to “today.” She wanted a partner. A husband. A child or two to cuddle. She wanted someone to hang out with after work. Someone to talk over her day with. Someone to commiserate with.

God was there for her and always would be, but suddenly she wanted more than a one-sided conversation. Ruth bowed her head in shame. So what if the Lord didn’t talk back to her in words. She felt His comfort and His love all the time. He would never forsake her or fail her like others around her had.

Feeling better, she flipped her hair into a knot at the base of her neck, wandered into her dark kitchen and flipped the light switch. She thought about Noah.

Another Mr. Wrong.

Ruth grasped the freezer door and pulled. Much to her disappointment, only some waffles, a bag of frozen peas and a few ice trays resided inside. She wrinkled her nose when she realized she’d eaten her last pint a few nights ago. After smacking the door shut with her hip, she filled the teakettle with water and turned on the gas burner.

Her thoughts wandered to Noah again as she keyed her way to her voice mail. Unlike David, at least Noah didn’t lie or misrepresent himself about his beliefs. Even until the end, Ruth had believed David had been as committed to the Lord as her until she found out differently.

Five minutes and seven messages later, Ruth kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet underneath her as she sat on her oversized toffee-colored couch. The cup of tea she’d brewed sat on the distressed hardwood coffee table. Her gaze scanned the contents of her mail—bills, what looked like an invitation and a few credit card solicitations.

Her hand stilled on the society magazine she kept forgetting to cancel. Out of habit, she glanced through pictures of the “Who’s Who?” of Phoenix. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she stared at the picture of David with his new bride.

Betrayal stabbed her. Ruth squeezed her eyes shut and blindly reached for her cordless phone. Obviously David had no problem committing to another woman; it was just Ruth he had a problem with.

Tilting her head back to rest against the cool leather, she dialed her older sister’s number and waited. Karen had always had a knack of knowing when one of her siblings needed to talk. Tonight was no exception as Ruth returned her sister’s call. A night owl herself, Ruth knew her sister wouldn’t mind the late hour talk.

“Hi, Ruth, you’re up late. Work? Or are you seeing someone new?” Her sister’s chipper voice carried through the line, reminding Ruth of an earlier time and place. Back in the family fold. Safe and secure without a care in the world.

“David’s married.” Ruth paced to the laundry room and pulled out the wrinkled whites.

The pause on the other end of the line fed into the insecurities that had resurfaced today. Ruth wrapped strands of hair around her forefinger as her teeth bit her bottom lip.

“Good riddance.” Karen seethed.

“What?” Ruth pulled the phone from her ear and let Karen rant. Her sister’s anger surprised her. Of all her siblings, Karen was the most even-tempered of the bunch.

“I never liked him. And how he treated you—”

Instead of shifting the dank smelling, damp clothes from the washer into the dryer, Ruth decided to rewash them as she tried to pacify her suddenly fiery sister. “Karen, stop. I’m sorry I upset you. Forget I mentioned it.”

Her sister ignored her words. “What’s his phone number again? I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.”

“That’s not necessary.” The gnawing in Ruth’s stomach intensified as she twisted the knob into position and pulled it out to start the cycle. Then she dragged the basket of whites she’d pulled from the dryer back to the living room.

She stared at the picture of her and her two brothers and two remaining sisters sitting on the fireplace mantel. Tall, dark and thin, Karen resembled their father more than their mother, who Ruth favored, with her fuller figure and blond hair.

As usual, Ruth was stuck in the middle. The same as her birth order. But that wasn’t the reason for her position in the picture. Her siblings crowded her to protect her as they hadn’t been able to protect Rachel. “I can fight my own battles now.”

Her sister protested. “But it’s something we’ve always done.”

Ruth’s fingers tightened on the phone. It only took a phone call to undo the progress she made over the years away from her family. “I know, and I appreciate it. But I’m not a baby anymore. And I’m not going to die like Rachel.”

The silence drained her further.

“Listen. Please don’t say anything to the family about David, okay? I’m over it. He has a right to start a new life just as I have.”

Her sister’s sudden lack of words freaked Ruth out, and if she’d had any energy left, she’d be pacing the room.

“Right. I love you and I just want you to know that I’ll always be there for you. No matter what. Call me anytime. Day or night.” Karen’s soft voice reached out through the telephone.

“Thanks, Karen.”

“Now to get back to my question. Were you working or are you seeing someone new?”

Ruth dropped back down on the sofa. “Work. “

“You work too hard. Check out that single’s group at the church you told me about. Live a little. Have some fun. The best thing for you to do is to start seeing someone else.”

“Work is my life. You know that, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll see what activities are scheduled for next month.” But she knew she was only saying those words to pacify her sister. Still, her voice hitched as an image of Noah Barton appeared in her mind’s eye. Heat crept to her cheeks at the thought of the pilot.

The man was all wrong for her. A wounded hero with tons of baggage like herself. Yet she couldn’t ignore his anguish and pain. Her nurturing side instinctively took over, and despite the fact the pilot didn’t like her career, Ruth found herself wanting to help him.

Her fingers grabbed the colorful striped pillow, and she clutched it to her chest. A stuffed piece of fabric was a far cry from holding another human being in her arms.

“Look, it’s late and I’m tired, Karen. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Bye.”