Well Behaved Wives(17)

Ruth understood the correlation between working hard and getting what she wanted.

But now Asher was kissing her—and she wanted that too. Very much.

“Ruth Appelbaum, I love every bit of you. The part that’s going to pass the bar. The part that’s going to become a lawyer.” He snuggled beside her in bed. “Right now, we’re newlyweds. Don’t we have time for that too?”

Asher had a point. A little while ago she’d wondered about his parents, about their lack of affection, about whether couples stayed amorous over time. Here they were, the only moment in their lives when they’d be newlyweds. Did she want to sacrifice that?

No. What Ruth wanted included Asher and meaningful work and a peaceful home. She pulled up the blanket and nuzzled her husband.

Asher was right. This was the time to be newlyweds. She had to trust he’d support her career when she needed him to. Somehow, Ruth would get it all.





Chapter 8


RUTH

At twenty-five after eight in the morning, Ruth walked up the path of Carrie’s brick house, called a twin in Philadelphia, though her brothers had called duplexes like these double trouble in New York. She carried a tinfoil-wrapped bundle carefully—Shirley’s swirl kamish bread, another Philly term to get used to. Back home, they called it mandel bread. Ruth had to admit she did enjoy her mother-in-law’s recipe, as the texture was softer than biscotti, perfect for dunking but wouldn’t break your teeth. And who didn’t love the taste of almonds?

Carrie waved from her side of the long, covered patio, where she sat on a chair, waiting. Steam rose from two cups on the small table beside her. Efficient. Prepared.

Ruth presented the small packet to Carrie.

“Thank you.” Carrie’s pink polished nails were as shiny as the silver corner she lifted. She peeked inside and sniffed. “Yum.”

“I didn’t bake them.” In that moment, Ruth wished she had.

“I didn’t grow the coffee beans.” Carrie shooed away Ruth’s unease and they laughed. Cream, sugar, napkins, and spoons were set on the table as well. “How do you like your coffee?”

“Thanks for this,” Ruth said. “I take both.” She fixed her coffee and sipped.

Carrie crossed her leg and held her cup at her knee, a casual yet elegant posture. “Thank you for suggesting this. I’m sorry I hesitated yesterday. I don’t have many girlfriends.”

“You’re new here, like me. I’m sure you will in time. This is a good start, don’t you think?” Ruth was hopeful. She wanted a friend—a confidante. Not a best friend, necessarily. Dotsie could never be replaced, and that would be asking a lot of any new relationship, but Carrie could be an in addition to, like a second-best friend. After meeting yesterday, and after just a few minutes sitting side by side this morning, Ruth felt secure and comfortable, like she and Carrie had developed a kinship almost at first sight.

“How do you like Wynnefield?” Ruth stirred her coffee with a piece of kamish bread and bit the softened cookie in half, enjoying the extra sweetness it gave to the meeting.

“It’s nice,” Carrie said. “This part of town is a little fancier than I’m used to, but Eli wanted one of the bigger twins. He thought it looked better with his position.”

“What do you think?” Ruth asked.

Carrie seemed surprised by the question. “I’m sure it’s lovely, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.” Again, she shooed away any concerns with a flick of her wrist.

“Do you miss Atlantic City?” Ruth asked.

“Not really. Well, I miss my parents. And my sister. And my nieces. And the ocean and the boardwalk, even the sand.” Carrie broke into a wide grin followed by a droopy frown. “I guess I miss it more than I realized. But talking about it would hurt Eli’s feelings.”

“How so?”

“Eli wants our life to be enough for me. If I talk about home, he thinks I’m not happy here.”

“And are you? Unhappy, I mean.” Ruth quickly added, “Sometimes I miss New York. That doesn’t mean I don’t like it here. I even missed my privacy when we first got married.”

Maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but Carrie’s silence prompted the fib.

“Oh my God, me too,” Carrie said. “So what do you miss about New York?”

How much should she divulge?

“I miss school,” Ruth said. “I miss the opportunities.”

“You’re smart, I can tell,” Carrie said. “The way you spoke at Lillian’s yesterday. You’ll do great here. You’ll make your own opportunities.”

Ruth was used to hearing she was smart. She hoped the rest was true. “You’re smart too—you went to nursing school.”

“Any girl with a little sense and a roll of bandages can be a nurse.”

Ruth was startled by the self-effacing comment. “You don’t believe that!”

Carrie sank into the chair as if it were too big for her. “No, not really,” she said.

“You mustn’t say things like that; it’s unfair to you. Becoming a nurse is a wonderful accomplishment. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“It’s easier that way.” Something in Carrie’s voice hinted at sadness. “You wouldn’t understand.”