Part 6
Twelve days later, Ruth called Elena and asked whether the worktable was free that afternoon. She had finished the covers. She said she could leave them by the office if it was a bad time, and Elena told her to come through to the yard.
Ruth sat in the parked car after the call. Gus’s ramp was still folded in the back, held by the strap Tom had replaced when its buckle broke. She had taken out his water bowl but hadn’t managed the ramp. Before she could put the phone away, she called Leah and asked whether she wanted to come.
“I can get there after lunch,” Leah said.
Ruth almost told her morning would be quieter. “After lunch is fine.”
That afternoon she began taking the covers into the workroom one at a time. Elena offered to carry the largest bundle, and Ruth handed it over before she could explain that she was used to its weight. The staff-yard bed was gone. A clean rectangle on the concrete showed where its edge had sheltered the ground from dust.
She looked at it longer than she intended.
“I’ve put it in the storeroom,” Elena said. “For whenever you want to decide.”
Ruth nodded. She had imagined being angry if somebody moved it and had also imagined being unable to come through the gate if it was still there. Now she set her bag on the bench and found that neither argument was required of her.
Mabel was in the shared paddock with Nell. The calf stood close enough to investigate the branch the older giraffe was eating, though her own feeder was full. Nell moved a few paces away, and Mabel followed the sound of her hooves until she found the other branch.
“Still stealing,” Ruth said.
“Constantly.” Elena leaned on the outside rail, keeping clear of the handling gate. “She’s got a perfectly good breakfast over there.”
Ruth watched the calf chew. Mabel had become familiar enough with that space to cross it without stopping at every change underfoot. She still hesitated when several animals moved at once, Elena said, and the keepers continued to supervise her social time and maintain her routines. There were days when the little mistakes accumulated and they made things simpler for her.
“Did she wait for him?” Ruth asked.
“She spent time by that boundary. More at first.”
“Did she know?”
Elena took a moment. “I can tell you what she did. I don’t know what it meant to her.”
Ruth looked back at the empty rectangle. She had spent twelve days wanting somebody who had seen them together to say something definite. It would have given her a reason to bring the bed back, or take it away, or stop finding fault with a Saturday when she had driven past the gate.
From the far side of the yard came the sound of a cover bag being dragged over concrete. Leah appeared around the workroom corner, pulling the awkward last bundle Ruth had left in the car. Her ponytail had loosened, and she was wearing the old shop apron over her office clothes.
“You said you brought all of them.”
“I brought them. I hadn’t carried them all in.”
Leah looked at the bundle and then at her. “That’s irritatingly accurate.”
Ruth laughed. The sound came out rougher than she expected. Leah left the covers on the worktable and came to stand beside her without asking about the bed.
Mabel lifted her head when they spoke. After a while she left Nell and came toward the near boundary, pausing to investigate something at ground level before continuing. Ruth stayed where she was. She felt herself preparing to call, then could not think what she wanted to ask the calf to do.
Mabel stopped across the service lane. Her nostrils moved, and her ears turned toward the workroom door. Ruth said her name once, in the voice she had always used while carrying covers past the enclosure.
The calf stayed for a little while.
Then Nell moved toward fresh browse, and Mabel turned with her. There was an uncertain step at the gate, a pause while the keeper gave her room, and then she was through. Ruth watched until both giraffes had reached the shade beyond the barn.
Leah nudged the cover bag with her shoe. “Where do you want these?”
They laid the finished ones on the storage shelf. One needed an extra fastening Elena had requested after trying it on the pad, and Ruth brought it to the heavy machine in the workroom. She checked the thread and adjusted the chair while Leah shook out the canvas behind her.
There was too much fabric for the little table. It kept sliding, pulling against the place Ruth needed to sew. She caught it on her knee, reached awkwardly for the edge, and found Leah already holding it level.
“I’ll feed it through,” Leah said. “You can take the weight.”
Ruth hesitated. There was a turn near the closure that was easy to miss, and the needle could wander if somebody hurried it. She began to explain, then saw Leah move the loose fastening out of the needle’s path. Her daughter had done that job summers before she learned to drive.
Ruth rose and gave her the chair.
The machine was louder from this side of the table. Ruth gathered the hanging canvas into her arms, feeling its warm, stiff weight against her wrists. Beyond the open door, a keeper called to another keeper about a bucket somebody had borrowed.
Leah stopped with the needle down and turned the cover. Ruth shifted with her, lifting the heavy fold clear of the table’s edge.