Ruth's first night in the Pearce home was rather overwhelming. Graham and Catherine were unruly to say the least. They screamed and fought and ran around, and all of this was done with their father's distinct displeasure, but Harry did nothing about it. He ate his supper with an exhausted sort of resignation in his eyes, ignoring the terrors wrought by his children.
She sat across the table from Sir Harry Pearce, unsure of what she was supposed to be doing to manage the children in their chaos. She tried meekly pleading that they be quiet, that they remain seated, that they finish their food. Her requests fell on deaf little ears.
They were all excused after supper, when Catherine and Graham raced back upstairs to their nursery to be amongst their toys. Ruth followed them much slower, not quite eager to join them.
"Ruth?"
She turned upon hearing Harry call her name. "Yes, Harry?"
"The children have already been informed but likely don't care that I will be spending a week in Paris beginning tomorrow. I have some business to attend there, and I shall be bringing back two friends with me. The children don't know that part yet. You'll prepare them for Malcolm and Juliet's arrival."
"Malcolm and Juliet?"
"Malcolm Wynn-Jones is godfather to both Catherine and Graham. We worked together many years ago, and he is now employed with Ms. Juliet Shaw, with whom I plan to spend a great deal of my time. The children know that I often go to Paris to see Juliet, but this visit will be the first time they've met her. And I'm hoping it will go well."
Ruth regarded Harry carefully. He seemed to be almost…nervous. The prospect of this Juliet Shaw meeting his children, despite his casual mention of it, was causing him some apprehension. So far, this was the first hint at anything Ruth had seen from Harry Pearce that wasn't anger or mockery. "I'll inform the children and assure that they're adequately prepared to behave."
Harry gave a bark of a laugh. "Good luck with that!"
Feeling slightly offended and severely devalued, Ruth made her way upstairs to see to her young charges. Graham and Catherine, despite their general lack of order in anything else they did, seemed to have a routine for bedtime that they stuck to. Catherine was in her pajamas, searching through the piles of toys and stuffed animals. Graham was similarly ready for bed, lying on the floor with a picture book in his hands, gazing at it intently.
"Bedtime?" Ruth asked, trying to give them a pleasant smile.
Catherine immediately let out her frustration. "I can't find Mr. Bug!"
"Who is Mr. Bug?"
"My giraffe!"
Not one to question the strange names children tended to give their stuffed animals, Ruth started helping Catherine sort through all the toys. They came across three giraffes before they found the special Mr. Bug, who was stuffed inside a toy car and buried amidst some loose building blocks.
"Thank you, Ruth. I can go to bed now," Catherine announced.
Ruth nodded. "And well done with your manners. It's always good to say thank you when someone helps you. Do you want anything from me before you go to sleep?" she asked.
"No, I can do it. I'm nine now. But Graham needs help brushing his teeth. And you'll have to take that book away," the little girl warned.
"Why would I take his book away?"
Catherine scoffed, "Because he can't read and he just starts making up the story if he can't figure it out from the pictures." With that, she stomped off to her bedroom with Mr. Bug in tow.
Ruth went to stand over Graham. "Bedtime, Graham. Let's go brush your teeth and then I can read you that story, if you'd like."
Graham put the book down but looked up at Ruth, question burning in his eyes. "Ruth?"
"Yes?"
"Will you teach me to read?"
"I'd be happy to. We can start tomorrow. We've got a whole week with just us while your father is away, and I bet you can learn enough that you can read a bit to him and Malcolm and Juliet when they arrive."
Graham's little jaw dropped. "Uncle Malcolm is coming? And Juliet!?"
Ruth realized she probably shouldn't have just blurted that out, especially right at bedtime. "We can talk about it in the morning," she replied gently.
Graham opened his mouth to protest but yawned instead. Obviously he was exhausted and thought the better of it. He handed Ruth his book and took her other hand, leading her to his room. Ruth helped him brush his teeth—though he really seemed like he just wanted company while he brushed his teeth himself—and then tucked him into bed, reading him the book he'd picked out. He fell asleep before it was over, and Ruth turned out the light and closed the door. She checked on Catherine, who was also sound asleep.
When she finally got to her own room, Ruth wasn't sure if she wanted to pass out or cry or possibly both. She took a bath in her en suite, contemplating her situation here. Harry's 'friend' Juliet would be arriving to meet his children. From what Ruth understood about the nature of relationships between men and women, it seemed that Harry might perhaps be looking to marry this Juliet Shaw. Perhaps that was God's purpose in sending Ruth to the Pearce home, to help prepare the children for a new mother. Come to think of it, she had no idea what had happened to Catherine and Graham's mother. It would probably be impolite to ask, but she was quite curious.
Ruth got out of the bath and brushed her hair, slightly annoyed with herself for allowing the ends to get wet. But she sighed and readied herself for bed. Rain was falling outside, a rather pleasant and comforting sound to her mind. She snuggled under the soft sheets and smiled. Tomorrow would be another day, she'd try harder with the children, and perhaps everything would be alright.
Something was scratching under the bed. Ruth bolted upright, heart racing at the odd sound. She turned the bedside light back on and leaned over the edge of the bed to look underneath. Two dark eyes met her gaze. Ruth chuckled to herself and crawled on the floor, reaching to collect the visitor from under her bed. "Hello, Sam," she greeted softly, holding the scruffy rabbit in her arms. "I can't imagine why you came to see me, but I'm glad you did."
His little nose twitched, but he allowed Ruth to hold him. He was shedding all over the place. Ruth made a mental note to warn Dimitri for when he did the wash.
A peal of thunder ripped through the sky outside, causing both Ruth and Sam to jump slightly. A smaller thundering sounded down the hall and stopped at Ruth's door with a light but frantic knocking. "Come in," she called softly.
Graham came inside Ruth's bedroom, his hazel eyes full of tears. Ruth immediately ushered him toward her. He launched himself into her arms and buried his face in her shoulder.
"Oh dear, is the thunder very frightening?" she asked soothingly, gently stroking his curly blonde hair.
Another clap of thunder cut off any reply. More running down the hall. More knocking. Ruth beckoned entry. Catherine closed the door tight behind her, fear evident in her lovely young face.
Ruth sighed, knowing exactly how this would all turn out. She remembered thunderstorms from her childhood, when she'd run into her mother's bedroom and be shouted at to leave, mocked by Peter for being a baby. The torment of it was a lot for her to bear, even now. She wouldn't impose the same cruelty on these children, entrusted to her care. "Everyone in the bed."
"Sam too?" Catherine asked, leaping onto the bed to join her brother.
In spite of herself, Ruth chucked, "Yes, Sam too. I found him under my bed earlier. Seems everyone ended up here in the midst of the storm. But I think we'll all be safe and comfortable if we stay together."
It took a bit of doing, but they all managed to get settled. Ruth was on the far end of the bed. Graham was curled up against her with Catherine on his other side. Ruth reached out over Graham's head so Catherine could hold her hand, which the young girl squeezed whenever the thunder frightened her once again. Sam the rabbit was happily nestled on the pillow beside Catherine's head.
"Alright, everyone try to get some sleep," Ruth requested.
"I need a story," Graham whined.
Ruth pondered for a moment what sort of story should tell. The thunder answered her question. "You know where thunder comes from, don't you?" she asked somewhat excitedly.
"Where?" Catherine responded, equally eager.
"Zeus is the ancient Greek god of the heavens. He has thunderbolts constructed for him by Hephaestus in the forges of Mount Olympus. And when Zeus has to fight to defend the world, he hurls his thunderbolts across the sky, making a terrible sound to scare away the attackers," Ruth explained.
Graham frowned, considering this tale. "Zeus doesn't sound very nice."
"No, he's not very nice at all," Ruth agreed. "Oftentimes, very powerful people and gods and such aren't very nice. But they have their place just like the rest of us." She continued on to describe the ancient hymns to the gods and the Greek pantheon and all their roles to the mortal world. She was so enjoying herself that she hardly noticed when both Catherine and Graham had fallen asleep. But she needed to get her rest, too.
Ruth turned out the light for the final time and snuggled into bed with the children and rabbit in her bed.