A Cheat and a Liar, page 63
‘You are sweet,’ he said. ‘We have a life together. We don’t need to rush into wild passionate lovemaking right now. It will happen, and when it does, everything will be just fine. Don’t worry.’
Ruth soon wiped away the tears, and it was agreed, they would have a few drinks and perhaps something to eat. When they felt like returning to the room, they would do so, and the night would progress as they both wanted; there was no rush or urgency; as George said, ‘they had a lifetime together to look forward to’ …. About two hours and fifteen minutes, later, they were back in the room. It was 9.48 p.m.
They had both drunk two non-alcoholic cocktails, they had nibbled on several different small savoury snacks, and they had talked a little about what they hoped lay ahead for each of them. George kicked off his shoes and removed his jacket, his tie, and his waistcoat. ‘Well, aren’t you making yourself all at home?’ Ruth remarked, and with that, he stood in front of his bride. He put one arm around her and, with the other, leaned over, and switched off the light. ‘That’s a dangerous thing to do,’ she whispered.
‘It is,’ he replied. ‘That’s why you should hold on to me tightly, so we don’t get separated; otherwise, you might get lost.’
She giggled. ‘George, how many other young ladies have you done this to?’
‘None,’ he replied. ‘I have always left the young ladies alone; it has been their mothers I go for—they are more adventurous.’
‘George,’ she replied in an almost offended squeak, ‘you are meant to say, “None, my love; this is the first time I have been in a dark room by myself with any lady.”’
‘No, Ruth, my love. You know I was once married.’ The conversation turned a little serious momentarily. ‘I will tell you now the extent of my past relationships, just so you know, and then neither of us will have any secrets at all,’ George said in a quite serious voice.
‘Only tell me if you want to, but I don’t need to know,’ she replied.
They sat on the bed in the dark, and George said, ‘Because of the respect I had for my very religious family, I never went anywhere alone with a young lady, and I had never had the enjoyment of making love until I married Nettie. She was my first, and I believe from what she told me also, that I was hers too when we married. It was a wonderful union, and I intend to make our marriage even happier than my previous; and by that, I mean that I hope the Lord blesses us with children, which poor Nettie seemed unable to have.’
‘Oh, George, I am so happy that you have confided in me now. I imagined that you would be a man of the world who would have had several ladies in your life and would compare me, and look on me as useless, and unable to keep you happy in bed. I know nothing, sweetheart, but I will let you teach me what you know and tell me how and when I can comfort you.’ She stopped and then said, ‘George, oh, I feel so much better now we have had this conversation.’
‘Stand up, darling, and I will pull the blankets back,’ and before she had a chance of sitting back down, George took her in his arms and kissed her on the lips and then on her neck and then her neck again. Then he put his arms around her and started to undo the buttons on the back of her dress. Then as the last was undone, it fell from her shoulders, and he heard her catch her breath in surprise. George took a step back whilst still holding and kissing her, and the dress dropped to the floor. He pushed her back so she was sitting on the bed. ‘Put your head down on the pillow,’ he whispered and lifted her legs onto the bed so she was lying down. The room was totally dark, and as Ruth put her head on the pillow, George took a step back and divested himself of all he was wearing. A few seconds later, George was lying beside her. She put her hand on his arm and then quickly pulled it away.
‘George,’ she whispered in a semi-startled tone, ‘George, you have got no shirt on.’
‘I’ve got nothing on,’ he whispered, and his hand started gently stroking her face. ‘Darling, I love you, and I will be very gentle with you.’ Ruth lay there, her heart beating faster by the second. ‘Just try and relax, love; you will be fine,’ he said, trying to reassure her.
And then, within what seemed a period that neither participant wanted to end, it was over; they were back, lying side by side, both naked, both breathing heavily, not able to speak. Finally, George said, ‘That was beautiful, my love. That was so great.’
Ruth lay there gazing towards the unseen ceiling, smiling to herself. ‘Oh, George. Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Now I know what I have missed for so long. Thank you. I thought it might be a duty a wife must endure, but, George, you have shown me how wonderful it feels. Thank you. Thank you,’ and they kissed long and hard.
They pulled the blankets up over their naked bodies, and Ruth turned to face George. He lay on his back and put his arm under her neck so she could lie on his shoulder. There was no talking; both were thinking of what had just happened and how happy it made them. Before either of them spoke again, both were asleep.
They both awoke just before dawn and made love again and then drifted back into sleep again. Then it was morning, and time to bath and to dress and think about what they could do for the rest of the day. They were staying two nights in Portland before they headed south. The sun was up, the sky was blue, and they both were happy. The rest of their lives waited for them.
The remainder of their honeymoon was everything George hoped it would be, and far, far better than Ruth thought it might have been.
A week later, they were back home in Bucoda, and from then on, they were both going to be living in the big house. George had said that, over the next week or so, he would ensure all his belongings were removed from the cottage and the grounds were tidied, not that they were ever untidy, in readiness for a tenant.
He wondered if by chance a new teacher may be due to start at the school. He liked the thought that he could help a new arrival to town settle in with an easy-care cottage to rent. With a regular wage, the rent should not prove a problem. After reading some of the daily newspapers whilst in Oregon, and from what they had seen in Portland, the world was not heading in a good direction. Many, many folk were finding themselves unemployed. In the city, he had for the very first time seen homeless people; some sleeping in the open or on the streets. Basic food items were still available, but there was rationing, and not always sufficient available to feed everyone. Those without work were, of course, unable to buy anything and were relying on gifts or handouts from churches or social groups to provide for their families. Clothes, too, were in short supply, and, generally, day by day, there was doom and gloom forecast. Banks were tightening their lending policies; there was talk, the share market may crash. George thought back to forgotten times and places and could not recall such hardship ever in any place he had been.
George and Ruth were both grateful to have employment that was an absolute necessity; children always needed to learn. George confided in Ruth, saying how fortunate he felt that he had chosen to abandon building homes and had become established as a teacher when he did. He said to her, ‘Imagine if I had almost completed a house and the banks had foreclosed and the owner was unable to pay me for what I had done.’ He could only think back to a previous situation that he could never speak of and the solution to that problem he chose at that time.
And George did spend time getting the grounds of the cottage back to tidiness, and while he toiled in the yard, Ruth was equally hard at work inside—cleaning windows and ensuring everything was spic and span for whenever the right tenant came along. The two of them didn’t mind who became their tenant, as long as they were reasonably respectable; but they must have employment.
George, the following Sunday, was due in the pulpit. Everyone knew by then that he and Ruth were married, but to make sure, as he finished reciting his usual opening welcome, he said, ‘And to any of you here today who may be unaware, I joined myself in marriage almost two weeks ago to the lovely lady sitting to the left of the front door—the lovely lady who was Miss Ruth Alida and is now Mrs Ruth Morris.’ At first, just one of the number gathered, started to clap, and then two and then everyone applauded. ‘Let us rejoice together,’ and he announced the first hymn, and the organ blared forth.
Then school reopened. There were two vacancies within staff ranks, and the school was about to advertise within the state. George had an idea. He asked if the advertisement could include reference to there being a two-bedroom home being available for the successful applicant at a very reasonable weekly rate. The school agreed. George was elated. He just had to wait for someone to apply for the teaching position.
The school did engage a teacher some two months after they first advertised, and George had his tenant.
No holidays away for most folk this year; most were really feeling the hard times; the newspapers mentioned words seldom heard before—words like ‘recession’ were replaced with ‘depression,’ and everyone knew that life was not going to get any easier anytime soon.
Christmas passed and New Year was there—1926 became 1927, and late in January, whilst sitting in front of the fire at home, Ruth said to George, ‘Darling, come and sit on the couch with me. There is something that you need to know.’
‘What like?’ George replied.
‘Well,’ she replied, ‘I believe I am going to lose my teaching position at the end of March.’
‘Who told you that?’ he snapped. ‘Why should you be put off?’ he snarled.
‘George, don’t get agitated, because I understand it is due to your actions that they are going to ask me to leave.’
‘Why? Who said? What am I supposed to have done?’
She looked at him with a very serious look. ‘At the time I am supposed to leave, darling George . . .,’ and she hesitated, ‘I will be about halfway to motherhood.’
There was about a five-second delay. It suddenly dawned. ‘Oh my goodness.’ He was smiling now. He put his arms around her. ‘Oh, all is forgiven. I am not angry with the school now. I am not unhappy with you for telling me a tale I was supposed to believe. I love you, dear Ruth,’ and they sat close together and talked about all the items they would need in the next few months; she kissing him, he stroking her hair. ‘Oh, wow,’ he finally said. ‘What a wonderful time in our lives. Next, we will be thinking about names and trying to decide what we like best.’
Bed seemed the best place in winter to discuss such affairs of state. They were soon there, and discussions seemed to go on forever, or at least until one stopped replying to the other. Finally, it was sleep for them both.
Over the next few weeks and months, baby requirements, from crib to clothes, all needed to be purchased. Ruth had her farewell from the school, with her providing an array of her cooking skills for an after-school tea one Friday late in March, and the staff presented her with a beautiful baby’s shawl and several bunches of flowers that had been picked from some of their gardens.
It was rather overwhelming for the parents-to-be, but as one of the staff said, ‘We are just so happy for you. We don’t have these chances to celebrate often enough.’
Time ticked by, and late in August, Ruth had a lovely baby girl. George was ecstatic. ‘Fancy a man of my age being a father for the first time,’ he said to Ruth and some of his friends.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she replied. ‘Maybe most men don’t have their first child at your age, but many men have a child even when they are older than you.’ That conversation was never repeated, and mother and father turned their attention to selecting a name. Every evening for about a week, Ruth and George would sit down after supper and discuss names that each liked and might be suitable for their little girl.
The same conversation that many parents have had; one, suggesting a name, and the other parent saying something like, ‘No, I went to school with a girl who had that name, and she was not a nice person.’ Then the other would suggest a name, and there would be a reason that was not endorsed. A week later, Ruth had five names that she and George quite liked that she had written on a piece of paper. ‘Let us keep thinking of nice names and nice girls we have met in the past, but in the meantime, the five we have listed are the best.’
‘I think we should concentrate on a first name to select, and I would be happy if baby’s second name was Ruth, your name,’ George suggested. A few days later, the decision was made. Baby would be christened Kathleen Ruth Morris, and the christening was arranged, with a visiting minister to officiate a week later.
Life continued in Bucoda. The Morris family were happy. Little Kathleen was a delight to all who met her; she was putting on weight, soon crawling, later taking her first steps, and, all in all, she was everything any parents could wish for.
George was still teaching and enjoying his work at the school. He had continued with his duties to the church; he was still the principal preacher at the Methodist Church; officiating at about 60 per cent of the Sunday services and conducting most of the funerals in the town. He continued to not conduct weddings.
Since they married, Ruth and George had lived in the big house, and for a time, the cottage had been let to various new teachers working with him at the school, but on occasions, other townsfolk had rented it, and it had even sat idle on occasions when George did not consider prospective tenants suitable. Regularly, George visited his old friend and bank manager, Gordon, sometimes as a social visit but also to discuss finances. Both properties still carried mortgages, and it had become a struggle on occasions, since Ruth exchanged teaching for motherhood, particularly when there was no tenant to pay rent for the cottage.
Gordon was always very understanding but had a commitment to his banker employer to ensure that every borrower was up to date with their repayments. George, on the other hand, had repayments of not one, but two loans to meet each month, and whilst everything was fine with the house loan, something needed to be arranged for the cottage. Finally, George decided he would spend one month of his spare time to bring the cottage back to its former pristine state and then offer it for sale. That tidying and minor repair was, of course, another cost, but in the end, he and Ruth decided that the higher value once repairs were complete would exceed their costs. The eventuality of all that meant the work was done; the cottage was sold, and that enabled the mortgage on the cottage and part of the mortgage on the house to be repaid.
There was never any chance that the friendship that both George and Gordon enjoyed would be in danger, but the former was always conscious of the help that the other had given over the years.
Time continued on; the world moved on, and as 1928 was about to become 1929, Ruth whispered in George’s ear one night and said, ‘Would you like Kathleen to have a little sister or a little brother?’
‘Why?’ he replied. ‘Would you like us to have another baby?’
‘It’s not up to us to decide. The good Lord has already set me on that path,’ she replied.
George jumped out of bed and switched the light back on. ‘Do we have a baby on the way already?’ He was smiling, and Ruth was nodding and almost crying with happiness. ‘Oh, how good is that?’ he replied. ‘Oh, that is wonderful. I don’t care whether it is a boy or a girl; I suppose having one of each would be nice, but a sister for Kathleen seems a nice choice too.’
‘I’m glad you are happy,’ she finally got to say. ‘I thought you would be, but when Kathleen was due, you seemed worried about your age.’
‘I did think about that at the time,’ he replied, ‘but everything since she was born has been wonderful, and I don’t care if the odd person thinks differently—we are happy. Tomorrow, we will start thinking about names again. We need to have a couple of names ready for a boy and a few more for a girl.’ George turned off the light and returned to bed, and they talked for a short while before both dropped off to sleep.
By the time baby arrived some six months later, names had been narrowed down, and when their son arrived; Douglas Gordon Morris, he was. Douglas was, of course, George’s middle name, and they both thought that Gordon had been a friend whom George had known for a very long time; he was sociable, smart, and a genuinely good man. ‘If our son grows up to be the sort of man that our best man is, we will have plenty to be happy about,’ George said.
And as the world marched into the 1930s, George and Ruth’s two children grew like healthy little mushrooms, much to their parents’ delight, but the troubles of the world seemed to be growing at a much faster rate, and to nobody’s delight; the business world was struggling everywhere, employers were laying off workers, commodities were difficult to source, food was in short supply, banks were increasing interest rates and calling up loans; and, worst of all, there was again unrest in Europe. Germany was again, like a cloud on the horizon.
George was still teaching, but his working week was being reduced; every child needed to be taught the basics: reading, writing, and arithmetic; but not every child needed to learn woodworking skills, which was what George was good at. George’s paid hours were halved. He still had a sizeable mortgage to pay, although he was forever thankful that he had sold the cottage when he did and used the money to not only pay what was owed on the cottage but reduce what was owed on the house as well. He had the skills of an experienced carpenter, so he could always do repair work in the town; but would he be paid? And if he needed to buy timber for those repairs, would timber be available, and at what cost, and, again, who would pay? If it was him, would the person for whom he did the work be able to pay him?
Then talk of men being enlisted for service became commonplace in staffrooms and bars and other public places. George said very little. He knew he would never be called upon to fight. All men were required to register, and he had done that quite some time ago (but only so he could have a card to prove his registration to fellow workers or anyone in authority who needed to know), but George was not an American citizen. He did not want to talk or discuss his situation with anyone. He knew what nationality he truly was but was not going to reveal that fact to anyone either; not even Ruth. ‘Wait and see what happens, my love,’ he would tell her. ‘If and when they call my name, we will face that situation if and when it arises. I am English, remember (knowing that was not correct either)? If Mother England tells me to fight, then fight I must, but I will be sixty years old soon, and surely there will be enough young men available.’
