Ruth and Frannie - Summer of Seventeen Entry
A/N: Having become aware of a new Bonesology summer challenge, I'm scripting this story to answer it, as well as continue Christine's learning more about her family history, which began as a school project I first described in Chapter 1 of "Secret Service." This story deals with Booth's aunt whose partner had box seats to hockey matches. I can't seem to recall the names of these ladies, or in which episode Booth mentions them to Brennan, but "Ruth" and "Frannie" are stuck in my head, so I'm going with that. If someone can point me to the episode, and correct my memory, I'll flip their names. The prompt is 'Never let "I love you" go unsaid' so here we go:
1982
Booth and Jared were perched impatiently on their mom's floral cut velvet sofa. The pair took turns watching out the living room window for a familiar car to pull into the driveway. Unlike most Saturdays, the black and white cartoon characters flitting across the TV screen were ignored. They were spending the weekend with their favorite Aunt Ruth. Their father Edwin was away overnight at a barber's convention, and their mother was looking forward to a rare day to herself. She finished folding the last load of laundry and smiled to herself, watching her sons bounce around. The pair were so excited, they hadn't squabbled over the last of the cereal a bit this morning.
Her sister-in-law Ruth was as different from Edwin as siblings could be; her contagious optimism the exact opposite of his weathervane moods. Ruth and her partner Frannie were a perfect match for one another. Longtime housemates, the two women had active careers and very different interests, except for one; their shared fanatical love of sports. Frannie had box seats each season for the Flyers.
Her successful banking career gave her access to some perks not many people enjoyed, which included purchasing top-notch Flyers' season tickets for an exceptional price. Of course, the fact that she'd been attending games since childhood with her father was well-known in Philly hockey circles, and this didn't hurt her fan status one bit.
Aunt Ruth had worked in publishing all her life; starting as a copy proofreader after three years on the high school newspaper staff. She'd graduated as the Franklin HS Kite 'n' Key newspaper and Bolt yearbook editor. Her brother Edwin was a standout athlete in every sport he tried. Only 21 months apart, they'd traipsed through their school years together. Throughout Edwin's tour of duty in Vietnam, Ruth had worried as much as her mother about his safety streaking though the sky in fighter planes.
As Scooby's All Stars gave way to Wiley Coyote, Frannie's Mellow Yellow AMC Pacer coupe arrived. Its official name 'Fried Egg' delighted Jared and Booth. Aunt Ruth hopped out of the front seat and trotted up to the front door, bracing herself for the onslaught of her nephews' hugs. She promised Marianne they'd return Sunday after church and McDonald's Happy Meals. Edwin wasn't due back until after dinnertime.
The two ladies shared an airy apartment above the Kensington neighborhood pharmacy Frannie's father and granddad had operated. The sturdy two-story brick building had been in their family since 1923 when her great-grandfather bought it as an investment and moved his family in above the drugstore. Its three cozy bedrooms were down the hall from a pocket-sized office just large enough for spread out two sleeping bags on the scratchy wool carpet without banging one's head against the mahogany rolltop desk.
Dressed in pedal pusher pants and sleeveless shirts, Aunt Ruth and Frannie took the boys to McPherson Square Park where they tossed a pair of footballs back and forth, and chased Frisbees across the grass. They stopped for Bassett's Ice Cream, then returned home to wash up and change clothes before boarding the train for Spectrum Center.
Four hours later, hoarse from yelling and jubilant from Flyer victory, Booth and Jared followed their aunts back onto the train and collapsed in their seats. They'd eaten hot dogs and all manner of other treats not usually allowed or afforded by their parents; and watched flying pucks, flashing skate blades, and vigorously swung sticks to their hearts' content. Jared fell asleep against Ruth's shoulder within ten minutes and slumped into her lap. Booth, on the other hand, watched out the window, fascinated by the passing sights of his larger hometown than he normally saw. He was tired, but determined to absorb all a ten-year-old could.
When they arrived at Ruth's and Frannie's apartment, Jared barely brushed his teeth before crawling into a hastily unrolled sleeping bag, his desire for Gram's special recipe hot cocoa erased by exhaustion. Booth followed his aunts to the kitchen and sat at the chrome/formica table while they boiled milk and stirred cocoa powder, vanilla, cinnamon, and powdered sugar in three heavy ceramic mugs.
"Thanks for the fantastic hockey game and all those hot dogs," he said gratefully.
"Spoiling you two boys is what makes being aunts worthwhile!" Ruth declared.
"You can't watch a hockey game properly without a gut ache from eating too much, Seeley!" Frannie replied with a twinkle in her eye. "I just hope Jared doesn't spill the beans to your parents!"
"You better get off to bed, Seels," Aunt Ruth told him.
"G'nite, Aunt Ruth, Frannie. I love you guys," Booth said with a yawn.
"We love you too, Squirt; now off you go!"
1991
Mail call was one of Booth's favorite times of the day. Like all soldiers, he relished news from home. His AIT training had been intense, but he was determined to make it into the Rangers, and considered all the physical effort, sweating, bruises, and hard knocks just part of the plan. He'd complete this course in another two weeks and head home for a week of R&R. He grabbed a cup of incredibly bad coffee from the urn, stuck his cap in his belt and grabbed a chair at the nearest cafeteria table before ripping Pops' letter open. Taking a gulp of his coffee, Booth settled back to read.
Like many older folks, Hank gave him a full rundown on the recent mid-summer weather, typically sweltering for Philadelphia. Then he recounted Gram's bridge scores from the previous week, the scrumptious flavor of her lemon meringue pie at Sunday dinner, and how his own bowling score from Tuesday night had beaten Harvey Snyder's. Next a report of Jared's mid-semester grades, mostly B's with one A thrown in from PE class.
Three paragraphs in, his grandfather's familiar scrawl disclosed less mundane news. Aunt Ruth had been feeling poorly of late, as Pops always phrased it, and consulted her doctor. The diagnosis was horrific: rampant pancreatic cancer. He wrote that only 10-15% of pancreatic tumors are operable. Symptoms don't show up until they are large and already metastasized. Ruth's doctors had said even when surgical removal is possible, the cancer comes back in 85% of patients, spreading to the liver and major arterial blood vessels. It is an insidiously aggressive disease. Frannie was seeing to her every need, but his beloved aunt's time was short. Hank suggested coming home soon if possible.
Knowing the old man never exaggerated, Booth swallowed hard. He headed for his commander's office to request a short leave and then went to see Aldo Clements for prayers, reassurance, and support. He was granted permission to skip graduation ceremonies after completing the last two critical weeks of training, and issued emergency leave orders.
These boosted his space-available flight status, gaining him the last seat on a Ft Lawson-Philadelphia red eye. As tired as he was, Booth couldn't sleep for worrying. He sprang for a taxi to his grandfather's home, arriving at 6 am. Knowing Hank wouldn't yet be awake, he stretched out on the porch swing to wait. (Recalling that day to Christine in years to come, it occurred to him yet again how handy cell phones were.)
An hour later, the front door opened as Hank came out for the morning paper.
"Shrimp! How long have you been lyin' there? Come on in, Son."
"Oh, Pops," Booth stood up and embraced his grandfather, noting that he'd shrunk a bit. "I came as soon as I could. How could this happen? How did she contract such an awful disease?"
"I dunno, Shrimp. Neither do the doctors. It's so advanced, all they can do is try keeping her comfortable, and even that's not working too well."
A pot of coffee consumed, the two men headed for Ruth and Frannie's apartment. Booth was dismayed at how wan Frannie looked, an overtired caregiver, distraught at her unwilling patient's condition. A hospital bed was set up in their dining room engulfed petite Ruth's gaunt frame. Booth struggled to conceal his sorrowful shock as he bent to kiss her thin cheek. He forced a smile and commented how sunny the room was. Hank moved alongside his grandson to grasp his daughter's hand, and Booth followed Frannie into the kitchen he remembered so well.
"I'm so sorry for you both, Frannie," he murmured softly, hugging her tightly.
"Not half as much as we are, Squirt," she retorted with a sigh, "but thank you, Seeley. Just pray that when her time comes, she slips away easily and soon; she's in such terrible pain and there's only so much relief the pain meds can give her. I know it's hard seeing her this way, but I'm so glad you made the trip. It means the world to her to have you here, even for a few days. And to me as well, Hon."
"You two gave me and Jared such wonderful times, and such great memories. I love you both; just wish there was something, anything I could do…"
Booth stayed the weekend, remembering old times and adventures with his aunts, so many hockey matches, baseball games, picnics, zoo days, sleepovers, and gallons of Grams' cocoa. By the time he flew out on Sunday evening, the two ladies had laughed so hard they cried. He'd told them both, as they had him, how much love they shared, how much the adventures and memories meant.
He'd repeated the same timeless phrase to his Pops, how much his frequent letters meant, deep gratitude for the years spent raising him and Jared, for his dedicated parenting when he might have been relaxing over a chess game with old friends. Looking out the aircraft window at the passing landscape below, Booth reflected on how few times he'd heard those important words from his father, and was thankful again for Hank Booth.
Two months later, embroiled in intensely tough Ranger training, Booth got another letter from Pops at mail call. This one let him know that Ruth had slipped away in her sleep the previous week, and Frannie was terribly saddened, yet relieved that her partner and best lifelong friend was at peace.
2025
Thirteen-year-old Christine stood at her Great Aunts' grave, reading the double headstone's inscription,
"Together in Life; United in Death, Loving Forever"
Ruth Margaret Booth 1950-1992
Frances Helen Jennings 1946-2020
Her father stood behind her, his arm over her shoulder pulling her into a hug.
"They were quite a pair, two adventurous broads, who didn't know the meaning of the word 'can't' or 'shouldn't.' They'd try anything once; let me and Jared get away with anything as long as we didn't hurt ourselves or burn down their house. God, I loved those aunts! They spoiled us rotten, but we never got our fill of being with them. Reality always set in and we had to go back to the 'real world' as my dad said. He could've had a better life if he'd been more like his sister."
"Kind of like you, Dad. You spoil us sometimes, then lower the boom on us others," Christine remarked.
Booth smiled above her head, and bent to kiss the top of her curls. Time enough for the full unvarnished truth about Dad when she's older, much older, he thought to himself.
"Did Mom ever meet your Aunts, Dad?"
"Oh, yeah, she met Frannie a couple of times, but never Ruth. That's a shame because the two of them are a lot alike. Very intelligent, logical, precise. Memories like elephants. I loved them both, and my Grams, I love your mom, love you, honey. More than I can say. Our family has some strong women, lots for you to live up to, Monkey."
Christine raised her head and looked up at her father. "I love you, too, Dad. Always and forever."