Book Of Ruth

Love and Redemption

It's too loud. Too bright. Leon's bones split from the dry heat hissing through his veins. His skin crackles, his insides stewing with infection.

Misting to life from thin air,her face hovers through a haze of light. She stands in front of a yellowed privacy screen, her black hair a shock against its writhing white. Ruth is a refuge of quiet darkness, a safe corner in which to hide. Idly, he wonders what it would be like to lose himself in her olive skin and night sky eyes.

She lays her palms to his cheeks. Their coolness cuts him to the quick. He wants to lean into her, crash through the delirium and dive into her softness. Though she doesn't recognize it in herself, he sees it all too well.

Ruth was not born with winter in her heart. She is delicate as edelweiss and just as hardy. A tender heart protected by a hedge of thorns against the ravages of war.

Those same ravages have left him a coward. An inert, pathetic excuse for a man. She deserves the truth. He reaches up towards her as she leans over him. Leon wishes he could draw her closer and tuck her to his side like the most perfect bandage.

Ruth deserves more than to be tonic for his wounds. She drifts away like snow on the wind as he loses consciousness.

∆∆∆

I pace the hospital, attempting to complete my duties.

A bottle of aspirin slips from my grasp as I restock one of the cabinets. The glass explodes, pills scattering. The head nurse pauses mid conversation with the doctor and levels me with her poisonous glare. I can hear the acid in her voice as she makes a comment about me. I sweep up the shards. The hair on the back of my neck rises like a cat's as she marches over.

"Tucker, come with me."

I bite my lip, setting aside the broom. She leads me outside into the blinding summer sun. Standing erect, my hands clench at the small of my back. My gaze hovers over her bony shoulder towards the restless MPs at the front gate.

"Tucker, I've noticed that you have been particularly concerned with a certain prisoner."

"I am just doing my job,"I answer curtly.

My jaw tightens. I wonder how she could accuse me of caring too much when her negligence is what led to Leon's condition in the first place. I meet her eyes directly. She retreats a step as though she senses the hostility humming in my gut.

"His fever was out of control this morning," I continue coolly. "I was demanding the care and attention a patient needs."

"Don't think I haven't noticed your little trysts with the man." She draws closer. "You have been seen in his company on multiple occasions without a legitimate reason. Personally, you make me sick. Flirting with a German prisoner, a man has the blood of many Americans on his hands. I could report you for fraternizing with the enemy."

"The war in Europe is over."

"He could be the very man who killed my husband!" she hisses, her nostrils flaring.

I blink into her red, haggard countenance and remember my mother's warning about bitterness. This woman is living proof of its truth. Despite her aggression, I can't help the pang of pity for her. The knot loosens once more in my breast. The last thing I want is to end up a seething, cold snap of a woman.

At my silence, she draws back. She runs a skeletal hand over her face. I wonder if she is younger than she looks.

"You will no longer be needed here. I will tell your head nurse at the hospital in town you were a poor fit. If you leave quietly, I won't report you."