Dogwood by Chris Fabry Read Free Book Online Page A

introduced Arron, and Ruthie smiled and shook his hand. He wiped his hands on his pants twice before clasping hers, but she didn’t seem to mind.
    “Let me help you put those things in your car,” he said, opening the back door and taking the plastic bag.
    “They don’t make any like you in a slightly older model, do they?” Ruthie said.
    Arron blushed. “No, ma’am, but I got a few uncles.”
    “Maybe I should meet them.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He shut the door and stood back, nervously looking at the two of us. “So where are you lovely ladies heading today?”
    I answered before Ruthie could open her wrinkled mouth. “We’ve planned a day trip to Clarkston. It was Ruthie’s idea.”
    At the word Clarkston , Arron looked like I had said Auschwitz or Hiroshima. “That’s about four hours from here, isn’t it?” he said, quickly recovering.
    “Not the way we drive,” Ruthie said. “Three and a half at the most as long as the smokies don’t get us.”
    There was an awkward silence, and Arron glanced at his watch, then at the tinted front window of the store. “Well, I better be getting back to work.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Nice to see you again, Karin.”
    We were a mile down the road, almost ready to hit the interstate, when Ruthie asked about Arron’s family. I told her about Mr. Spurlock and how mystified I was that my mother hadn’t given the news. “She usually tells me about every birth and death in the county, or I see it in the paper.”
    “Maybe she did and you just forgot,” Ruthie said. “You were probably busy with those babies of yours. The whole world could have exploded when I was in the middle of my pregnancies and I wouldn’t have known it.”
    She was right. I seemed to have the ability to focus fully on one thing, to narrow my life to certain tasks. At times I had to turn the radio off just to do the dishes. “Do you think that’s why I have such a difficult time sleeping?” I said after we turned onto the interstate. “I focus on one thing and can’t let it go until I’m finished?”
    Ruthie shrugged. “That’s one way we cope with life. Makes it a little easier, I guess. Breaking it down to bite-size portions. You could have a lot worse things, if you ask me.” She opened her purse and pulled out a PayDay. I pulled the wrapper off for her, peanuts dropping on the front seat, and she picked at them like a bird taking communion. “One of life’s little pleasures. You want half?”
    I shook my head and marveled that like a child she could take such delight in the candy bar. The night before, Darin had run into the kitchen and hugged his father. “I got new toothpaste!” he yelled. You would have thought he’d just won a trip to some exotic island. Later, he begged and whined, “But, Mom, I’m hungry for brushing my teeth!”
    “You get much sleep last night?” Ruthie said as she chomped, the nougat sticking to her uppers and making her sound like some cartoon character.
    I watched cars speed around us as Ruthie stayed about 20 mph under the speed limit. “No, I spent the night with a quotation book and Max Lucado.”
    “Don’t tell his wife.”
    I laughed. “You know what I mean. I get so tired that my eyes droop. I feel like I can’t stay awake another second, and then suddenly I’m awake and all I can think about is falling asleep again. By then, it’s over. I’ve lost the battle and have to do something else.”
    “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone yet who’s died of lack of sleep. Do you have a lock on that closet door of yours so nobody can walk in on you?”
    “When it’s really bad, I’ll lock it, but most of the time I want to be available in case the kids get up and wander. That’s one good thing about it. I’m always available.”
    “Your husband ever stay up with you?”
    “He’s such a heavy sleeper. I don’t think he understands. It’s like trying to explain the ocean to someone who’s never seen it. How can you