**This story will follow the timeline of the book, wherein Ruth does not know she is pregnant until after the leaves Frank and returns to Whistle Stop.
"If you ever touch her again, I'll kill you!" Idgie snarled, as Frank Bennett looked down at her from atop the stairs. Frank curled his lip in contempt as he watched the wiry blonde, along with her brother Julian and Big George, helping the shaken and sore Ruth down the porch steps and into the waiting car. Idgie guided Ruth into the back seat and slid in next to her, George squeezing his large frame into the passenger seat and Julian sliding behind the wheel and starting the engine. As they pulled out of the drive and began the journey from Valdosta to Whistle Stop, Idgie draped her arm over Ruth's shoulders and whispered, "You're safe now." Ruth, no longer able or needing to suffer in silence, burst into tears and buried her face in Idgie's chest. She took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves and calm the furious pounding of her heart, but as she inhaled, and the warm, familiar smell of Idgie, of sweet tea and whiskey, midsummer rain and fresh, wild honey, crept into her nose, her heart began to beat wildly for a whole new reason. She was going home. She was going back to Whistle Stop. To Mama and Poppa Threadgoode. To catfish fries and Sunday services with the Reverend Scroggins. To the mouth watering smell of Big George's barbecue. To nights of Idgie sneaking into her room and waking her, Ruth shaking her head at that midnight grin and the soft whisper of, "Get up, I got somethin' planned." Yes, Ruth Jamison thought as the stretch of road between her, her house and her husband grew longer, I'm going home.
When the car pulled into the yard of the Threadgoode house, dusk was settling over the great white building and the crickets were just settling in to their evening serenade. Yet, there they were, waiting on the porch. All of them. Mama and Poppa Threadegoode, Sipsey, Onzel, Ninny and Cleo. All awaiting her arrival. No sooner had Julian cut the engine than they were all rushing towards her. Helping her out and helping themselves to hugs. The men grabbed her luggage and the women hissed in contempt as they appraised the bruise blossoming underneath her left eye where Frank had gotten in one final blow. Still sore and feeling joyously overwhelmed by the sudden affection, the soft touches and the sweet words that her world had been empty of since Frank's lips had closed around the last word of his wedding vows, the tears once again began to flow down Ruth's face. As if it were her cue, Idgie, who had been standing back smiling and letting her family fawn over their long lost surrogate daughter and sister, surged forward, enveloping Ruth in her arms and ushering her towards the house without even a word. A knowing hush fellow over the rest of the Threadgoode clan and the men busied themselves once again with the task of Ruth's abundant luggage, and the women slipped off to prepare Ruth's room and fix her and her fellow travelers a bite to eat. Idgie escorted Ruth to her room, the very same one she had stayed in during that unforgettable summer at the Threadgoode's.
Ruth sat down on the bed, it's simple white linens soft and familiar, and she looked up at Idgie, fidgeting awkwardly in the doorway.
"Well, uh, if there's anything you need, just uh, come get me. I'm in the big room now. Now that Cleo and Ninny got married and got their own place. Down the hall, you remember?" Ruth remembered. But she knew that's not what Idgie was asking. Idgie's dark brown eyes betrayed her. They were pools of desperation, of fearful hope and excitement. Idgie wasn't asking if Ruth remembered the layout of the Threadgoode house, which they both knew she remembered like the back of her hand. No, Idgie was begging her to remember something else. To remember that summer. Remember how they were. Remember the moment under that giant oak tree when Idgie had presented Ruth that jar of wild honey. Remember the night on the train, and the secret they would forever share as they threw food that wasn't theirs to the occupants of every Hooverville along the tracks. Remember Ruth's birthday at the River Club, and the soft touch of Ruth's lips on Idgie's cheek. As Ruth sat in silence, staring back at her, the nervous joy on Idgie's face began to wilt, and Idgie shook her head resolutely,
"Yeah, so, down the hall," she muttered and began to turn and skulk out of the doorframe.
"Idgie," Ruth's voice whispered, just loud enough for Idgie to hear, "I remember. I could never forget." Even with her back turned, Ruth could tell that mischievous, genuine, wild grin had taken over Idgie's face and her whole body visibly enlivened once again.
"G'night, Ruth." She murmured softly, and walked, the rest of the distance down the hall to her room. Ruth flicked off the light and lay back in the warm, familiar bed. For the first time since her wedding night, it wasn't fear that kept Ruth awake, but instead, an all-consuming joy.
Growing up with Cleo and Julian had trained Idgie's ears to the menacing sound of her door creaking open in the middle of the night. Thanks to her brothers, more than once she had woken up to an opossum in her bed, or an open jar of molasses perched precariously on the headboard that fell when she stirred awake. However, tonight, it was no such threat. She shot up in bed, only to see waiflike nightgown-clad figure of Ruth in her doorway, outlined by the moonlight from the windows along the hall.
"Ruth, you all right?" She croaked, worriedly rubbing the sleep from her eyes and beginning to climb out of bed in just the white undershirt and boxers she wore to sleep in.
"I'm fine, don't get up," Ruth murmured nervously. "I just, well I was wondering, if maybe I could sleep here with you tonight? I know it's crazy and it don't make sense, because I do not miss that bastard Frank Bennett…but I haven't slept alone in some time. Not since I got married, anyhow. I just…I can't settle. But, I'll be ok, it's silly I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you," She muttered, flustered and embarrassed. But before she could even turn all the way around, Idgie had vaulted out of bed and had gently clasped her wrist in one hand.
"Ruth, it's ok. You can sleep here tonight." Ruth turned and faced Idgie, a gentle, reassuring smile on the blonde's face. Idgie began to quietly guide Ruth into the room, and let the brunette get settled into the bed before she herself got in. Idgie took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous jumping of her heart and the fluttering of her stomach as she lay beside Ruth, sure to give the other woman a respectable berth. Idgie felt Ruth roll onto her side, facing away from her, and the blonde lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling, desperately trying to control the urge to take Ruth in her arms and make her feel as safe and loved as she had wanted to since their first moment together. And, as if Ruth could read Idgie's mind, Idgie suddenly felt the gentle shift of Ruth's body and a delicate hand reaching back and grabbing her own hand. Ruth pulled Idgie softly so that the blonde's body faced her own, and gently scooted back against her, fitting her form snuggly against Idgie and purposefully pulling the arm that she held tight around her body. Idgie inhaled deeply. And she quickly realized her mistake.
As she breathed in, her senses came alive with Ruth. The sweet, lilac smell that lingered in her long brown locks. The silky caress of her skin. The feel of her own fingers splayed against the taught, lithe muscles of Ruth's stomach. The way Ruth's body curved perfectly into her own. And she could contain herself no longer. She propped up on her elbow and leaned into Ruth, her fingers pressing into the lean muscles of the brunette's abdomen, pulling her closer.
"Ruth, I-" her voice caught as Ruth rolled to face her and the moonlight streaming through the curtains caught the shimmering trail of a tear falling down the bruised curve of Ruth's cheek.
"Ruth, I'm so sorry," Idgie breathed, and pulled Ruth into her in a tight embrace, all the feelings of want and lust guiltily fled out of her and were replaced by the simple need to comfort and protect the other woman. The woman she loved.
They stayed that way through the night, Ruth wrapped in Idgie's arms. Idgie had never felt so whole…until she awoke to her mother knocking on her door to wake her in the morning and her empty arms told her Ruth had gone back to her own room before the sun could shine light on their secret.