Unexpected Reunion. Carolyn Greene
before the movie started. Ruthie had no memory of the movie, but she could still remember the exact feel of her hand in his, the calluses on his palm scratching her skin. Remembered wishing they hadn’t bought popcorn each time he let go to reach into the carton for a handful of the buttery stuff.
It had been part of the best time of her life. The laughter. The fun. Sharing new experiences together. The discovery that, no matter what activity they engaged in, it was always better when they did it together. And most of all, there was the easy camaraderie. The feeling that they could say or do anything without self-consciousness or censoring.
The rest of the family seemed to approve of their nearly constant togetherness. Since Gray’s parents lived only a few blocks away, it had been easy for him to slip away frequently and come to visit her under the guise of checking on his grandparents. And on occasion, Ruthie would walk over to visit his younger sister, but spend as much or more time with Gray.
But now...well, she measured every word she spoke and guarded every glance she sent his way. It was an uncomfortable balancing act between keeping a circumspect distance and wanting to slip back into that easy way of relating they used to have.
“I knew you shook the table,” he said, breaking into her moment of reverie. He gave her a nostalgic grin edged with regret.
Or maybe she was just hoping for a twinge of regret.
“Then why didn’t you say something?”
He gave a soft chuckle. “I liked your determination to win.”
“Even if my methods were a little hinky?”
He put his hand on hers, bridging the present with the past. “I’m sorry for hurting you. For telling you something so intense in a letter instead of...”
“Instead of by Skype?” she finished for him. The comment had been intended to refer to the thousands of miles separating them at the time, but it came out sounding bitter.
Something between an apology and a grimace crossed his face. “Yeah, I guess even that would have been more personal. More face-to-face.”
He looked away and removed his hand from hers, taking the warmth with it.
“And I guess it was pretty cowardly of me to keep dodging you after I came back home, but I convinced myself it was to protect you from an awkward meeting at my grandparents’.” He returned his attention to her, meeting her gaze directly. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry for the way I handled things.”
Sure, it had been unpleasant, but what breakup wasn’t? Even if they’d been in the same room, it wouldn’t have hurt any less. Despite her own pain, she knew whatever had caused him to change his mind about God and a future with her must have been hurting him much, much more.
She shook her head. “No apology necessary,” she said. “That’s all in the past now.”
We’re in the past, she almost added.
“You may not be a Bristow by marriage,” he continued, “but according to my grandparents, you’re still family. We’re going to see each other at family events, so we need to be able to put the awkwardness aside. For Pop and Sobo’s sake, if not our own.”
Ruthie nodded and offered him a wistful smile. “Yeah, it’s been hard juggling holidays and drop-by visits for the times you’re not there.”
“So I’m not the only coward,” he teased. He pulled a cardboard box closer to him and lifted a flap. “Maybe we should meet for lunch sometime. Clear the air about the past and set up ground rules for the future.”
“Rules of engagement, you mean.”
He flinched as if she’d hit him.
She’d intended it in the military sense, of course, but it was only after seeing his reaction that she realized her words could be taken a different way.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” he said with a forced smile. “Maybe we could call them rules of disengagement.”
The joke wasn’t funny, so she didn’t laugh.
The door opened, and a stylish young mother with a baby in a stroller entered the building. The woman spotted the Gleanings sign over the counter and headed toward the shop to browse.
“Feel free to look around,” Ruthie told her. “And let me know if you have any questions.”
Gray’s expression quickly changed to one of relief. “Here it is. Pop’s Korean War stuff.”
“That’s great.” Ruthie bent to look at the assortment of papers, medals, photos and sentimental trinkets. “We get history hunters in here all the time. Pop would be heartbroken if we’d sold all those memories.”
He closed the box flaps. “Thanks. For this,” he said, gesturing toward the mementos. “For everything.”
At her questioning glance, he added, “For being there for Pop and Sobo while I was away.”
“Your parents were there for them,” she said, deflecting his praise. “They looked after them.”
“Yes, but you gave Sobo and Pop someone other than me to focus on. You made a difficult time in their lives a little more tolerable.”
She shook off his thanks. “They’ve been there for me more than I was for them. I don’t know what I would have done—where I would have gone—if they hadn’t stepped in when I needed help most.”
Gray’s expression took on a faraway look. Was he thinking of God—who he’d said wasn’t there when he’d needed help most?
He tucked the box of Pop’s treasures under one arm and laid some bills on the counter. Then he moved the small, round table closer to the door. “I’ll take the table, too. Is this enough to cover it?”
“Way too much. You could buy a new one for less.” She wondered if the table had stirred memories for him as it had for her.
He must have read her mind. “There’s a bare spot in the corner of my kitchen. This should fit just about right.” With the box still tucked under his arm, he picked up the table with the other hand and moved toward the door. He stopped and turned back to her. “Don’t tell Pop and Sobo I bought it, or they’ll try to pay me back.”
“Let me give you a hand.”
Either the box or the table alone would have been manageable, but the weight of both was clearly an effort for him. She came from around the counter, but he hefted the table closer.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
With a resigned sigh, Ruthie stood back and watched him struggle through the door, determined to carry his burden alone.
* * *
The fire at Milk & Honey was nearly forgotten when the lunch crowd poured in. By that afternoon, Savannah had sold a vintage dress to a teen for her upcoming prom, and Nikki, who helped run the shop next door and who they hoped would be a future partner at Abundance someday, had taken apart an antique typewriter to repair and restore.
Whenever Ruthie thought about how Abundance and the individual shops within it came to be, she thanked God for bringing together the original three talented friends who, each in her own way, loved to find interesting articles and offer them for sale, and then adding a fourth to the mix. She sometimes laughingly called Savannah and Paisley her “Craigslist friends,” since it had been an online ad seeking roommates that had brought them together in the first place. Then, after moving into their Abundance shops, they’d been blessed to meet Nikki, who worked next door.
The college years had been lean for the three friends, so they’d sought to decorate the rented house with flea market and thrift-store finds. Ruthie started them off with unusual pieces of antique furniture hidden under ugly coats of paint or dulled varnish, which she refinished and made to