Billy
There was a new pastor in town; or so she has heard.

It was hard to decide exactly how long ago the new pastor had arrived. The rumors took a long time to get to her remote cabin, and Ruth rarely did anything to speed it up. In Briar Ridge, the news was more often bad than good, and even more often – ugly. She fended herself from it; from the paralyzing helplessness of the catastrophe already occurred. However, this time the news was good.

Pastors are God's direct servants, His messengers, His hands in the world of mortals. Despite being in complicated relationships with God, almost holding a grudge at Him ever since the message came about Jack's demise; despite avoiding the church grounds, soaked with reminders of her tireless prayers that went, ultimately, in vain; Ruth was still God's loving child. Despite the coldness that overtook her heart every time she saw the church's shadowy silhouette during her walks to the town, the least she could do was introduce herself. Wallowing in the coldness would only bring more coldness her way.

Ruth approached the church around noon, with the morning service long done, the silence settled in between the pews. This way, she won't be a distraction. She shortly stopped before the ikon of the Virgin Mary, bowing her head and whispering a short prayer: a gratitude for keeping her humble daughter safe, a plea for help with the claws and teeth of the uncertain future. Stepping away from the ikon, Ruth's eyes were scanning through the soft semi-darkness of the church. Where could the new pastor be?

||
Kimberly
James, while not an official pastor, still helped out with the duties one would engage in. He was still in training and was like the apprentice to Abel, helping out with tasks whenever the pastor saw fit and also doing a few sermons and services of his own - especially as of late. He had been doing so for a few years but was gradually doing more and more work typical of a proper pastor and couldn't be more happy with how far he'd come. James gave smiles to people as they left service and even had brief conversation with some who stopped to offer a few parting words, hoping to leave people happy and hopeful for the upcoming week. During the service he mostly stood in the back and was offered the stage for a few moments to chip in, supporting Abel verbally with some passages read and points reiterated. While their preaching styles differed and believes varied slightly they still both followed the same scripture and agreed on enough to collaborate.

When everything was said and done James was quite tired after service like usual, not liking standing constantly for so long. He could handle it without severe repercussions but that didn't mean the aftermath was entirely pleasant. Because of some remaining soreness in his legs and feet he found himself sitting in the pews near the front, metal makeshift crutches leaning against the bench while an open journal and messenger bag sat beside him. Right now he was eating a jam sandwich wrapped in napkins, having planned to head back home after finishing but enjoying the calm atmosphere of the empty church too much to simply eat at home.

Living with his father - a producer of jams and fruit preserves - had it's pros such as always having some on hand. It also came with cons though such as his dad insisting on making the sandwich for him to make sure he wasn't late to service no matter how much James insisted that he was going to be on time regardless. Parents seemed to never lose their instinct to help or at least James' father didn't, a habit that was both embarrassing and gratifying.

The sound of the church doors creaking open and barely audible footfalls caused James to stop mid-bite, twisting around to see who was coming in. To his surprise it was someone he'd never met before or at least someone he didn't remember. Meeting someone new always brought an especially bright smile to the young man's face, leading to him abandoning his sandwich by wrapping it back up and setting it down on the bench. He waved to the broad shouldered stranger at first before getting his crutches back on, sliding the repurposed belts back onto each arm and tightening them further to the best of his ability with one hand. "Oh, hey! Sorry, I'll be over in a moment!" He called out before putting on and adjusting his crutches. After a brief moment of fidgeting with the strap James stood with the assistance of two forearm crutches, each being made of welded metal and recycled materials such as the rubber end of a cane or a belt to secure his upper arms. He decided to meet her halfway or at least wherever she ended up stopping, a big smile plastered onto his pale face.

He wasn't wearing anything too fancy, just a black shirt and his cleanest pair of jeans complimented by a silver cross hanging from a short chain around his neck. His shirt was a button-up which was quite a struggle to do but he managed with some extra attention and a few breaks due to how frustrating it could be.

Once he stopped in front of Ruth he was swift to hold out a hand to shake, the fingers trembling at rest and the crutch strapped to his arm hanging limp, his other arm gripping the crutch in use. Usually he could stand still without their help but since he was still pretty tired from service he opted to rely more on his crutches this time around. "I'm James, it's nice to meet you! What brings you here? I'm sorry to say that service ended a while ago if you were looking forward to that." James said in a more proper greeting, needing to look up to meet her face. He wasn't super intimidated by her or at least not enough to garner hesitancy, instead just recognizing that she probably could cause some serious damage if she wanted to. However, James trusted that she wouldn't right now since she hadn't shown any signs of aggression. Hell, he didn't even know her name, so now was too early to judge too harshly.
Billy
Ruth had... Some expectations coming into the church that day.

Of course, she had already met Father Abel. Critical, judging; with his cold, heavy eyes, his every movement soaked in disdain. With his harsh statements, with his reading of sacred texts that you could hear in every corner of the church, as if Father was reading them directly into your head. She respected him, of course, she feared him, and she would never question his belief. She understood that some people needed to be rough, and that God's shepherds were among those people.

Ruth expected someone similar; maybe younger, maybe older, but with the same distinctive judgment in their eyes. Like they have already decided where she was going after death, and what God's verdict for her soul will be. God's angels between the humans, merciless and terrifying.

But when she turned her head sharply in the direction of the young-sounding "I'll be over in a moment!", the person she saw was an angel in the most romantic sense of the word.

He was so bony it was as if all of his body weight went into his huge curious eyes. His knotty hands were holding onto the forearm crutches, which he used to approach Ruth so rapidly, it made her worried he would not be able to stop in time. The smile on his face, - as if she was an old best friend who he dreamed of meeting again, - could not be explained by anything but natural, boundless kindness. He almost *Ran* To meet her. This all brought Ruth so much joy she all but teared up.

Ruth was charmed without as much as a second thought.

"Please sit down," She asked, still battling the swirl of sudden affection inside her chest, "There is no need".

Still, she shook a young man's hand. Up close, she could see that he was shorter than her, the slouching taking a couple of inches from him as well. His hand was cool to the touch, and his skin was soft: the skin of a man unburdened by physical work. He wasn't scared or wary, and he didn't look that curious: he looked at her like he already knew he was going to like her. At this point, Ruth needed to ask herself if she suddenly traveled outside of Briar Ridge, where angels like this could still be born and live.

"No", she said simply, "I'm here to meet you."

Then Ruth took a pause to gather her words. A sentence like this usually required an explanation.

"I'm Ruth." She said, "I go to this church every so often." She would've said, *You have probably heard about me from Father Abel*, but she was scared to learn what exactly the grumpy man could have been saying about her; "I heard there was a new pastor. It's you, right?"

And then she smiled. It was impossible not to, looking at James' face.

 "It is nice to meet you too," She added.

||
Also I hope it's alright that Ruth is totally (platonically) falling in love with him already
And the mention of barely audible footsteps AAAAH you put so much thought into your post, I'm in love||
Kimberly
James rushed towards the stranger but was still careful not to trip, his left foot touching the ground far less than the right alongside an immense stiffness in his legs making his gait slower than a typical run. To him, however, this was about as fast as he could move right now while still staying upright, feeling too excited to waste any time. While he focused on not tripping James bit his bottom lip as if it would help his concentration, only relaxing his face once he stopped in front of the woman he would soon learn was named Ruth.

His hand was taken in one far stronger and rougher than his own, his boney fingers dwarfed in comparison to her own that were hardened by years of labor. Once he got a good grip and gently gave it a shake the quivering in his fingertips mostly ceased, only resuming fully once he let go. Looking up at her he couldn't quite tell what she was feeling, a smile being absent as far as he could tell and her expression being pretty neutral despite something deeper laying in her eyes. James didn't have time to focus on decoding any subtleties in her body language though since he had a new task, to sit back down. He couldn't tell if she was asking him to sit down because they'd be speaking for a while or if she didn't think she was worth the walk over. Maybe she noticed how it hurt to put too much weight on his club foot and wanted to relieve it? Regardless of her reasons James wouldn't resist, although he didn't want to go right back to where he was sitting before due to the distance.

"Oh, okay!" Was the only thing James could say at her request, the young man shifting to the side and getting to the entrance of one of the pew benches before carefully removing his forearm crutches. He found it much easier to squeeze in if he leaned on the bench in front of him rather than on his mobility aids.

Before long he had both crutches in one arm and the over holding on tight to the back of the bench ahead, sidestepping carefully until he was far enough in to comfortably sit. James left space open on either side of him, deciding to give the woman an option as to where she wanted to be. 

Right before he was about to plop down onto the bench James caught the woman remark that she was here to meet him specifically. It made him freeze for a moment to take it in and search for a reason why. Falling into his seat James pursed his lips and hummed in acknowledgement, looking inward and searching through his mind for any events that might've made him be sought rather than Abel. Sure enough the lass had an answer, her rough voice pulling him out and dragging his eyes back to the guest in question. It was nice to have a name to associate with the face, James' smile returning as he repeated it in his head a few times to commit it to memory. She might've come to church now and again but at the very least he never noticed her should she have come in during a day he was working. 

*'I heard there was a new pastor. It's you, right?'*

Ruth's words made everything click into place, a vague memory of his dad bragging about his son being a pastor a while back making the misconception make perfect sense. James was there to correct him but there was no telling whether or not his father just kept saying *"Pastor"* Rather that *"Pastor-in-training".* It was flattering, really it was, but it was giving him too much credit. Before James knew it his cheeks had grown red and jaw slack, being called an actual pastor by someone he knew nothing about feeling like a huge compliment given that becoming an official pastor was his ultimate goal. Eventually James caught on to how his face looked and forced his mouth closed, a hand reaching up to rub his face as if that would make his flushed skin fade back to normal.

Thankfully Ruth's first smile and sentiment that it was nice to meet him as well made it all fade away, James then focusing on damage control.

"Um, I guess I'm sort of a pastor? I-I don't know if that's technically correct, more of like a... A pastor's apprentice or something. Sorry if I made a weird face there, I just didn't expect to be called one right out of the gate." James explained with a small chuckle near the end. "Abel has been training me for... Three years now? Something like that, I don't remember the exact date I started. Uh, why did you want to see me specifically? If you're looking for spiritual advice then I can't guarantee it'll be the best but I understand if you wouldn't wanna talk to Abel about something. He can be really intimidating sometimes but I think he means well."
Billy
With eyes wide open, Ruth watched the young man blush at her comment. The redness spread from his cheeks to his face and neck, until he was almost glowing from the inside. She was very curious to learn what she said that could've warranted such a reaction. When he caught himself and rubbed his face with his hands, Ruth found herself almost bubbling inside from something that felt like... Joy?

She gladly took a sit by James' side.

"It doesn't matter to me whether you are in training." She explained, wanting to somehow gather the pure sunlight James radiated and give it back to him, "I believe whoever's soul is strong enough to dedicate themselves to His service, deserves His grace and the respect of others. You have a very honorable job, James. If you think about it," She added, "His apostles were "In training" As well."

She was not sure if a man of God could take a joke at His expense lightly; but if James could remark on Father Abel's unflattering quality, he shouldn't be upset by a small joke. To be honest, it was hard to believe James could be upset by anything at all. Deep inside, this was the type of person she wished she saw more of serving Him: people who loved humanity just as much as He did. Ruth believed James was one of the people who could understand Him when He was still the Son of Man.

If she explained to James that she wished to get to know him for the same reasons she wished to know God, would he understand? Would he see that giving himself up to Him put a part of Him inside you? Makes you close to Him? Makes you the beacon of light others wish to warm up against? James was the man who rejected the self to dedicate himself to church and show heaven's light to other people. Of course, he would understand.

Three years... How come she never saw him? And yet, it made sad and perfect sense. Ruth attended the church self-absorbingly, only opening her eyes to take a look at God's kind face, watching her from the ikons. She could never put aside her own self with her small, human misery. People like her weren't created capable of enlightenment.

"I am not one to reject our Lord's words if He has them for me." Ruth answered seriously, "But no, I am not here for advice."

"I wanted to get to know you." She stated because she didn't know what else to say, "Person to person. Is now a bad time?"

||
Kimberly
James was easy to fluster and given how pale his skin was his blush was oftentimes much more intense than he would've liked. Still, he managed to tamp it down with some rubbing of his face and ruffling of his hair as a distraction. It didn't get rid of it all, of course, but he wasn't looking like a ripe strawberry anymore. He only looked her directly in the eye when Ruth began to speak on the matter after he finished trying to explain that he wasn't really a pastor in the official sense, his flustered grin fading into something more neutral, his shoulders relaxing while he listened to her speak and further complimented him. It made the blush in his cheeks begin to extend again but not as far as before since it wasn't influenced by shock. Before she added on a little quip James' eyes softened, not really realizing how much he needed to hear someone who wasn't already close to him reaffirm how important his job was to so many people and that he should be respected for the work he puts in. He was just about to thank her when the joke about apostles made him stop in his tracks, his words being replaced with a brief pause before a snorting laugh rose out of his throat. She was right in a way even if he didn't think being compared to such important figures was completely accurate.

"I guess you're right!" James responded, his short burst of laughter slowly tapering off. "Although, I hope you know I'm not like one of the apostles. I mean, in a way I'm like... An apostle divided by 3 so... Okay, I don't know where I was going with that, forget it. If I remember how to explain what I meant I'll tell ya." He continued, beginning to try making a joke of his own but not really knowing how to properly explain his train of thought.

It made sense in his head but he couldn't think of the words, his half attempt as a quip ending in him cutting it short with a small laugh and promising to explain it if he did manage to wrangle up the right words.

Ruth's internal sentiment about him probably not being upset by much was only partially true. He got upset but was able to keep calm in lots of situations, having had plenty of experience to know what to do and when. Regardless, he did know how to take a joke and wasn't easily offended or pushy, and he knew when to speak up and admit that something someone did was hurtful. It had taken him a while to get to such a place but it was worth it. Ultimately, he believed that anyone was capable of enlightenment and seeing His light, just in their own ways. Some were more obvious and vocal while others were mostly internal or private matters. Ruth was not a lost cause... If only she could know that and James could know how she felt.

*"I wanted to get to know **You**. Person to person. Is now a bad time?"*

"No, now's not a bad time, not at all!" James blurted out with a smile almost as soon as Ruth muttered the words, wanting to immediately reassure her that he didn't mind. There was something deep inside that he still couldn't get but whatever it was might require some reassurance. Truth be told, he was excited to get to know someone new, and now couldn't have been a *Better* Time actually. His legs were still a bit sore so sitting longer wasn't an issue, and the church always felt so calming when there weren't as many people inside.

"I guess to start I should keep to the basics. Um, my name's James, but you already knew that. Uh... I live with my father and before this I used to help make and sell jam with him. I still sometimes help with the selling part but not as much now that I work in the church. I... I like to draw a lot too, mostly using charcoal and pressed flowers for extra color. Oh, and I also have two other brothers! Thick as thieves we were. We're still close but not in the same way as when we were kids. I guess that's what happens when you get older, people move on and dynamics change. Oh! And I have a cat named Pepper, she's the sweetest little lady." James explained, beginning without much direction before getting more into it and growing far more animated by the end.

At the mention of his cat Pepper, James decided to stop there and turn the conversation back to Ruth, believing that he talked about himself enough for now. Taking a deep breath in to contain his excitement James leaned forward even further, resting his elbows on his knees and interlocking his hands, twiddling with his thumbs while he gazed up at his new companion and spoke to her. "Well, that's enough about me. What about you, Ruth? If you're gonna get to know me it's only right that I know you as well. Got any hobbies? Pets? Family? If you've got a job do you like it?" He continued, listing off some basic questions to help get her started. He didn't expect her to answer any she didn't want to and certainly wouldn't hold it against her if she dodged some.
Billy
**TW: mentions of misogynistic values**

With a warm gleam in her eyes, Ruth listened to James open up before her like a most precious morning flower. The burst of his sunny laughter, his awkward underbaked joke that he let slide with lightness unattainable to Ruth. His eagerness to listen and to speak, that strangely felt very... Conscious, very adult. His brothers, that grew apart from him, but whom he still mentioned with unbridled kindness and understanding. His beautiful, polite cat. His father. The jam farm.

Ruth had never made jam.

Berries and fruit were expensive, and she wasn't a fruit person all that much. But for a second, she imagined it. The romanticized, unrealistic, sunlit picture: picking up currants and raspberries into a bowl from a garden, generous with ripe harvest. A pot brewing on the stove, thick liquid bubbling loudly, heavenly, flowery smell floating across the room. Licking the spoon to taste the jam for sugar. Turning around to share your findings with a father who loves you.

"I have parents and two sisters, but I haven't seen them since I was very, very young." Ruth echoed thoughtfully, "I married my husband and moved with him to Briar Ridge. He was born here, you know? He loved it. Brought me with him, taught me everything he knew, showed me around. He was my whole life." She took a breath, because even now, after all these years, a breath was necessary, "God took him from me ten years ago." The next words were suddenly very, very hard to pronounce, even though there was nothing special or hard about these words, "He was a soldier. He fought well."

Ruth's gaze was fixated in front of her. The edges of her vision were blurry. Jesus bowed his head before her, humility trembling under his eyelids.

"He was a hunter before me. It was his cabin, too. Even before I knew him".

Reciting the story of her simple life, Ruth felt even more sharply how firmly she was standing in Jack's shoes. She clung to the remnants of him when he was gone, so tightly, and now, after all these years, with her grief gone and dull like an old scar, she realized that she might never let go. 

"I am a hunter." She said with pride, "I love my job. I cherish it. I can do it when I cannot do anything else."

Ruth took a pause to collect her thoughts. She did not want James to think she enjoyed killing. That she was one of those people who hunted out of boredom, as a hobby. Those who didn't eat their own game.

"There is a... Connection with the forest that you get when you spend there long enough. Like a bear, big as it is, never takes all the berries from the bush. It always leaves some. It knows, in its heart, how much it can take. I know how much I can take. I know that I am not hurting the forest by feeding the people. In my heart, I know."

Her fingers waved lightly. She was not used to gesturing, but *This* - this she wanted to grasp, to embrace, to comprehend. 

"I don't have this, this feeling anywhere else. As a person, I know so little. Life is a mystery to me".

Ruth finished her speech and the church went silent. Now was the time to go back to their previous conversation. For a second of a clouded mind, Ruth lost a grasp of the way people communicated – through a chain of questions and answers, - and was just talking. That would be acceptable if she came there looking for a priest, but she didn't. She was looking for a friend.

A pet. James was asking her about a pet. And it would be helpful if she stopped with the sudden realizations.

"I never had a pet. Too dangerous for them to be so close to the forest." Ruth admitted. There was a bigger reason she could not yet formulate. Her unwillingness to lose a source of love in her life was much stronger than her wish to have one in the first place.

No pet, and then – hobbies. Did she ever have any? Or was she always only actions, actions, actions? Was her brain wholly just survival?

Her parents believed a list of women's hobbies to be very rigidly defined: needlework, knitting, fortepiano, French or Italian; with a defined purpose of courting a worthy husband, after which the life of a woman should revolve around her man and the children. Ruth never challenged that notion, because she never saw the need to. She had a way to keep her days busy, she had a way to be helpful, to be self-sufficient. What else could she want? 

The act of creation for the sake of beauty was as far away from her as the stars. That was, to be incomprehensible and worshiped.

"I do not have any hobbies." She answered simply, "Do you think you could show me your drawings someday?"

||
Ruth in the beginning is literally being like that guy in middle school who after you pull out a bag of chips goes: "That sounds good... I never had one of those... 🥺"||
Kimberly
As Ruth spoke James stayed completely silent, simply nodding along and taking it all in. He was surprised to hear her reveal so much, beginning with her own family. She had a pair of parents and two sisters, simple enough if it weren't for the fact that she hadn't seen them since she was young. Whether she meant *'young adult'* Young or *'child'* Young was beyond him but it still made him feel a bit sorry for her. James honestly didn't know what he'd do without his family so he couldn't imagine what it'd be like to not be in contact with them anymore. His expression shifted from bright and joyous to something more gentle and sympathetic, his eyes softening and his smile's intensity being turned down a bit even if it still was present. She had a husband too - an emphasis on *Had* Though, past tense, no longer with her. James nodded in understanding as Ruth explained that he was born and raised in Briar Ridge and taught her all he knew about the town and what he assumed to be some other skills. The deep breath she took before revealing something was an easy indicator that it wasn't something easy to admit, James waiting patiently for when she gathered the strength to admit whatever it was.

*"God took him from me ten years ago. He was a soldier. He fought well."*
Well, that answered things. Having a loved one die at war - most likely overseas and in some violent manner - was always difficult, knowing how they suffered and how you never truly got a chance to say goodbye or comfort them in their final moments. Simply imagining the scenario of Ruth getting the news and the pain that came with it was enough to nearly bring James to tears. His smile was completely gone now but he remained silent, eventually reaching out to try and quietly provide comfort and hoping she was okay with physical contact. If he sensed any sort of repulsion though he was just fine with backing off.

For now he reached out to place a gentle hand on her shoulder, rubbing back and forth with his thumb, all his fingers still trembling slightly like they usually did - the weight of what was revealed didn't help calm them, either. For a second he flashed a smile he hoped was comforting as well, his nose scrunching up while he held back tears that threatened to spill out. It was a good thing he decided not to talk since he probably would've been unable to not cry if he tried verbally expressing his sympathy right now.

When Ruth began to talk about her husband being a hunter and that role being passed on to her James could feel the air grow lighter ever so slightly, a more natural and positive smile crawling back on James' face as the conversation continued. When she got to the part of proudly explaining her job James retracted his hand, resuming twiddling his thumbs just like before while he kept listening. The way Ruth explained how she felt connected to the forest in the context of a bear made sense but at such a deep level that James couldn't quite explain it in words besides the ones she just uttered. He might be able to draw it out but not write it in a logical or pragmatic format - feelings were always tricky like that. James nodded wholeheartedly as Ruth described how life was sort of a mystery to her and how she didn't feel any sort of connection to anything else like she did to the woods. James could relate in a way but his circumstances were a bit different. He never really felt connected with a lot of his peers simply due to isolation early on. He got sick often, he couldn't play a lot of the games some other boys his age wanted to, and he was always *Too much*.

Too sensitive, too talkative, too slow, too emotional. Of course, his father and brothers didn't drill that in as it was mostly schoolkids and other adults who said those things but it stuck. However, this wasn't about him, it was about Ruth - a potential friend.

The tail end of their conversation caused James' smile to widen but not really out of any excitement. In truth it was probably caused by the urge to cry fading away to almost nothing. It was sort of sad how Ruth claimed to not have any pets (although he did sort of understand her reasoning) or hobbies. If his assumptions were correct it sure sounded like she was living out in her dead husband's cabin alone, something he would probably be driven mad by. James was just about to suggest some things Ruth could try to maybe find a hobby when she mentioned wanting to see some of his drawings, a reminder that his stuff was still on one of the benches near the front. Naturally his smile got even larger at the mere thought of someone wanting to see his art but James held back any squealing or rambling while he finally spoke, "I'd love to show you! Um, I actually have my journal and stuff with me but it's on the bench up front." James admitted, jerking his head towards the front-most row to direct her attention towards it for a moment.

"Now, you said you don't have any hobbies, right? Well, I say we oughta change that! You can't just *Work* All the time, it's not good for anyone no matter who they are or where they come from. If you'd want to try some stuff out I have a lot of books back at my house if you can read and would like to try it out for fun. The library is also really good for stuff like that and is pretty well organized. I could show you around one day if that interests you, I've probably read almost everything they've got available - that place was like a second home for me growing up." James continued, eventually taking a pause to think of more things to suggest.

"Oh! Card games are really good. I know my brother Jacob loves card games but we haven't had a chance to play in a few years. I know a few you can do with a single deck of standard playing cards. There's also creative hobbies like drawing but I'm probably really biased in asking you try that one out. I draw with charcoal but you can do pretty much anything - ink, graphite, paint, hell even carving into wood is a good creative outlet! If you can write there's also writing poetry and short stories if visual art isn't your thing. Um, there's gardening too, I could help with that if that's something you'd be interested in trying out." Eventually James forced himself to stop, not quite realizing how fast he was talking until he stopped and needed to suck air in. He wasn't sure why he felt so excited to try and help Ruth find some sort of hobby but a lack of reasoning didn't stop his mind and emotions from giving his hands a wave of excitement shakes. Noticing how bad they were shaking when he finished talking James shook them out while he listened to whatever Ruth had to say afterwards, shaking them as if he was trying to get water off. His smile was as wide as could be, now more determined than ever to get to know this brick wall of a woman he'd just met.
Billy
Ruth didn't know why this man, this amazing man, listened to her with such patience, such grace. Why did he care about her so much, why was there such an awfully big piece of soul James was willing to give out to whoever entered the holy grounds of the church. All she knew was that she was grateful. Ruth wasn't one much for talking, and if she did, she never felt particularly good finishing. Yet, when being listened to like this, with her emotions sifted through a sieve of James' empathy, felt by him so deeply, she felt warm inside. It was as if someone in her chest, who was just walking, and walking, and walking, not knowing where, finally took a halt and started a crackling, peaceful fire. Ruth felt her chest open and close in gratitude. She wanted to say something, something to let James know, but all the words were too little.

"Thank you." Ruth said, "For listening. I think, listening is the biggest part of being a priest, and I think you are..." She got stuck, trying to find the right word for it, express that what he did for her was took a piece of her pain, and now it's nowhere to be found, "Magical at it".

She stood up and went to pick up James' journal, successfully containing her curiosity and not taking a single, not even most fleeting or accidental look inside. All that time, she couldn't stop breathing, as if her lungs have suddenly unclogged, and she could taste the oxygen as fresh as she has not felt for years. She smiled when she gently placed the sketchbook in James' hand.

"Let's see." Ruth sat back down and rested her chin on her fist, her smile wandering, "About the books... It must sound shameful, but I have a couple books in the cabin, and I was trying to get through them since the '13. I am more of a listener than a reader." She paused, bending her pinkie to help herself remember to answer everything James had offered her, "Of course, it would be lovely to go to the library with you if you'll have time."

"I never played cards, don't know how to... Do it. I'm usually alone, but maybe, there are card games I can play with nobody? I know drawing is... A really hard thing to learn, and I fear it could make me too sad. I get upset too easily these days because of..." She paused. She didn't want to talk about the werewolves and their countless victims, but in Briar Ridge, this topic popped up everywhere, like a weed in a flower bed, "We both know. Let's not mention such horrors in a holy place." She paused and humbly bent her head, whispering a short apology to God before continuing.

When Ruth thought of gardening, she thought of Marianne. She thought how Marianne's garden was the continuation of her soul, the essence of her labor; how it was the rare thing to drink her care straight from her palms and stay alive after. There has been so much love poured into the soil, that every flower must have had a little beating heart in its stem.

"I love gardens." She confessed gladly, "I love mechanical work. I don't have enough place for that around my house, and the soil is too tough there, but I know I would love working in the garden of someone else." Her thoughts came back to Marianne again. Would she ever let Ruth into her garden with the intention of letting her dig her fingers through the soil? Knowing that her every move could harm the delicate roots of the roses, yet still, allowing them both this risk?

Ruth turned to James, realizing that *He* Was eager to let her risk it, let her into the garden if she wanted it to happen. Gratitude warmed up in her chest again.

"You tried all of that?" She asked, impressed and wondering, "And nothing stuck? Outside of drawing."
Kimberly
James just continued to listen, even as Ruth stopped talking about her life and husband and transitioned into thanking him. To be honest James didn't expect to be thanked, and especially not in a way that exceeded one or two words, so as Ruth began to thank him and search for more words the only thing he could truly do was freeze in shock before thawing out once she was done. It was enough to make him visibly flustered again as any compliment felt like immense praise no matter how small. "Aw, it's no biggie! Um... You thanking me means... A lot? Is that weird to say?" James eventually remarked, feeling like he was at a loss for words himself and ending it a bit awkwardly - or at least it felt like an awkward ending to him. He meant it when he said it wasn't a big deal though, he was more than happy to lend a listening ear to anyone. He sure hoped thanking her for being thanked wasn't weird...

As Ruth left to find his journal James watched her carefully for a moment, observing her wander up to the correct bench before looking down at his lap. He didn't really expect her to get up and fetch it for him but it felt nice anyway, one hand gripping the other and massaging circles into one of his palms as an idle habit. It wasn't long before Ruth returned, James quickly looking up and reaching out to retrieve his leatherbound notebook. He gave her a squinting smile and harsh nod to thank her silently before pulling it close, hugging it with both arms at first. However, he was quick to transfer the journal to rest on his lap instead once he started talking again, holding it tightly with one hand and gesturing with the other. His free hand also became the one he started flapping near his chest, his racing heart making his hand seemingly attempt to keep up with the fast beat.

It was nice that Ruth didn't seem to notice or at least didn't point it out, James gladly focusing on her measured response to all his suggestions with earnest. It definitely helped his excitable heart calm down as well.

While he didn't find her unread book collection shameful he did feel a bit bad for the books as if they were living things. Those books were just collecting dust and he couldn't help but feel immense curiosity as to what lay between their old covers just as he would wonder what someone is thinking. Despite this James kept quiet, returning to his quiet listener role and nodding along or jumping in when he found the space. The prospect of going with Ruth to the library made his smile easily widen and head bob up in down in an astounding *'yes'*! He would get to show her his favorite reading corners, his favorite sections, and maybe even make some book recommendations if she wanted any! When Ruth paused at the drawing suggestion though James' joy eventually slid into the background and replaced itself with concern for a moment, tilting his head to both ask her what she meant and express confusion, only really getting what she meant when she said the words *'such horrors'*. While he sympathized with these horrors she refused to speak of he also sympathized with those surrounded by the trauma it leaves behind. When someone is hurt or sick it not only hurts the victim but also the onlookers in their own way, James knew that truth from both sides quite well.

He was happy the conversation got back on track to hobbies, his concern switching places back with joy and excitement that probably just needed a smoke break or something. At Ruth's confession that she loved gardens and mechanical work James' face lit up even further, such clear sentiments reminding him of his brother Jesse in many ways.

Jesse loved to tend to their family farm as a kid but he also liked working with machines and physical materials. Nowadays he just did leatherwork but he wouldn't be surprised if his brother decided to grow his own food one day, just to satisfy that itch. Maybe these two would get along? He could introduce them to each other one day but not today, that was for sure. In the meantime he wouldn't mind if Ruth took a crack at helping on their family farm if she wanted to. He was sure his dad Dan would like to teach someone new after all these years.

When the conversation switched back to him as the focal point James felt a bit unprepared for the question at hand. Yes, he had tried all that, but did anything stick? Well, yes and no, and it definitely took him a few moments to formulate a solid answer for each item mentioned. "Well, uh, I've *Tried* Them and I really *Want* Them to stick but some things just sorta get in the way." James began, reaching up to rub the back of his neck with a small laugh. "Um... I still love playing cards but my brother Jacob was really the only person who loved the same games I did with just as much passion. We... We don't talk much anymore but that's a whole other can o' worms. I still read a lot so that's definitely stuck but writing is a bit tricky for me. My handwriting isn't too good and my hands start to hurt if I write for too long." James continued, pausing briefly to hold up one of his hands for a few moments to demonstrate their shake. "See? Shaky all the time, tends to get worse when I'm feeling intense emotions. That's why I prefer to draw, I get to let the shaking guide me a bit if that makes any sense." He said, bringing his hand back down and opening his journal, absentmindedly flipping through pages as he continued his answer.

"When it comes to gardening I'm not the best. Again, shaky hands and all, and while I have the knowledge on how to prune berry bushes and when to plant things I don't quite have the coordination to do it without risking damaging the plant or hurting myself. I've had enough accidents hurting my legs by sitting in a bad position or tripping on uneven ground to really trust myself with the hard labor. I mostly do the harvesting and planning back home."

Each page James flipped through had drawings in charcoal or graphite and a couple pressed flowers in between. Frequent subjects were his cat Pepper, a specific young man with long curly hair and pronounced cheekbones, and various landscapes, all looking almost like scribbles. Shaky lines or swirling, squiggly shapes formed the image, both abstract and realistic at the same time. Eventually he stopped on a picture of a little girl's face who looked to be on the cusp between toddler and child, her cheeks puffy and mouth agape in a wide smile, pressed flowers glued all around her. "Aha! Here, here's a good one I recently did!" James suddenly exclaimed, turning his journal over for Ruth to see it clearly. "This is my niece Ruby. I had a few failed attempts before this one and I think her eyes are a bit too low on her face but overall I think it came out pretty good!" The drawing itself, while not perfect by any means, still looked recognizable as a young child's face. Some of the charcoal used was a little bit smeared but that was to be expected when working with the stuff. White chalk was also used for some stark highlights, especially on her teeth and squinted eyes.