A Twist of the Ring

Wendy twisted the golden band on her finger as she watched the tutor pace backwards and forwards before the class. It was a nervous trait she had developed and when she realised what she was doing she wondered what had caused it. Normally a placid person, she was not given to fidgety habits but lately, the ring on her finger had often become the object of her agitation.

When Gavin had placed it on her finger seven years before, it had brought her immeasurable pleasure. It had been a sacred moment for both of them as they pledged their vows – “…for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, till death do us part…

“Till death do us part…” The words echoed over and over again in her consciousness. Just four short years she and Gavin had shared together then death had come swiftly and suddenly, stealing him away and separating them forever.

No! Not forever! She refused to accept that. For a time perhaps, but not forever. One day they would be together again. She was sure of it. It was the one thought that had kept her going through those deep dark days of despair following the tragic accident that took his life.

Then, gradually, time had done its own healing work and Wendy had begun to live again. Three years had lapsed and this course in computer skills was a part of the restoration process. Bored and restless, she had decided to seek employment and the course was aimed at refreshing her business abilities.

Lost in her thoughts she studied the ring on her hand. Strangely, it was only since she had started back at college that she had become aware of this nervous habit of twisting her ring and rubbing it with her thumb. Somehow, the ring seemed to annoy her.

Realising she was not listening, she turned her attention back to the speaker. He was a tall man in his mid thirties, dark-haired and not at all like Gavin. A picture of her late husband loomed before her – fair-haired, medium height and the bluest of blue eyes that twinkled merrily at her. She smiled as she recalled that special look that had been for her and her alone.

Suddenly, the vision faded and she realised she was staring into the face of the tutor, his dark grey eyes fixed upon her as he spoke.

“Do you find me amusing, Miss Hunter?” he asked as the class tittered around them. “Is it something I said or something about me personally?” Wendy flushed crimson with embarrassment.

“No, no of course not. I was just thinking of something else.”

“So, you find me boring? Is that it?” His voice was scathing but his dark eyes glinted mischievously. Wendy was more embarrassed than ever. The thumb on her left hand rubbed furiously on the smooth surface of her ring and her heart was thumping nervously. She sought desperately for the right words to say. What would he think if he knew she had been drawing a mental comparison between her late husband and himself?

She looked directly into those penetrating eyes and said, “I don’t find you boring at all, Mr. Jordan. On the contrary, I find you rather interesting. I’m sorry if it seemed otherwise. I was distracted for a moment.”

“I see.” The dark eyes continued to probe into hers, then he turned away and addressed the class with a light-hearted remark.

Later, as Wendy was leaving, he caught her arm. “Just a moment, Miss Hunter, if I may.” Wendy turned to face the man again. As the students filed past, he said, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you earlier. I guess I was curious to know what had caused such an amusing expression. I was beginning to wonder if I had egg on my face or something.”

Wendy smiled. “I was thinking of my husband, “ she said.

“Your husband? So it’s Mrs. Hunter, is it?” The twinkle left his eyes and his gaze became dark and sombre as he continued stiffly, “Well, I suggest you keep your endearing thoughts until after the class is over.” He turned back to his desk and began to stack the papers in front of him.

Wendy just stared in astonishment. “I beg your pardon. Don’t you speak to me like that.” Angrily, she stormed from the room and headed down the corridor, her body trembling with rage.

Throughout the following day, she fumed. How dare he speak to her like that? She was not a child. She was in the class because she chose to be there. And she was paying for her lessons. He had no right whatsoever to act as he had done. For a little while she considered dropping out of the class. The thought of facing the man again disturbed her so much but as she continued to brood, she decided that the lessons were far too important and she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had caused her to leave.

As she entered the classroom the following night, he was already at his desk. He nodded briefly but she ignored him and throughout the class kept her eyes glued to the notes in front of her. She was more agitated than ever and her thumb worked overtime rubbing the golden ring. She tried to concentrate on the lesson but it was impossible. Her thoughts kept wandering to their encounter the previous evening. Why had he been so rude to her? He had always seemed so pleasant and charming and though she hated to admit it, he had fascinated her. For the first time since Gavin’s death she had become aware of another man.

*****

Unbeknown to Wendy, Peter Jordan was having his own misgivings about his behaviour the previous evening. He had spent the last twenty four hours berating himself for his actions. As he spoke to the class, he could not ignore the young woman whose auburn head was bowed and whose hazel eyes were deliberately avoiding his. He had been unspeakably rude to her and he deeply regretted his attitude. He had tried to analyse his reaction but ultimately it stemmed from the fact that she belonged to someone else and he could not deny the attraction he felt towards her.

She had been a part of his class for several weeks and of all of his students, he could not ignore her. On a number of occasions she had caught him watching her and it seemed some unspoken message had passed between them. He had not meant to embarrass her. It had been an impulsive moment and he regretted it immediately. The instead of atoning for it, he had made things worse. He glanced again at the bowed head. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she was fiddling with the ring on her finger. Strangely, he had never noticed the ring before that moment.

When Wendy was packing up her notes, Peter approached her. “I seem to be always apologising to you, Mrs. Hunter, but I do apologise for the way I spoke last night. I had no right to do that and I do apologise now. I hope you will forgive me.”

The dark grey eyes were beseeching hers and Wendy smiled.

“Of course. Now if you will excuse me, I really must be going.”

He stood aside and let her pass. “See you tomorrow night then,” he murmured.

The course continued for another few weeks. Wendy came and went. There were no more altercations, no more embarrassing moments. Just a growing awareness of the handsome tutor. Wendy wished she could get to know him but outside of normal classroom interaction, he avoided her and Wendy’s habit of rubbing her ring with her thumb had become a source of constant irritation to her.

Late one evening, she studied her ring. It had always been a comfort to her, this symbol of the love she and Gavin had shared. Her thoughts drifted to the day when they had chosen it. The jeweller had placed several trays on the counter but Wendy had eyes only for one and Gavin had taken it from the tray and slipped it on her finger. It had been a special moment, a rehearsal for that later time when they pledged their love to each other.

Now Gavin was gone and the ring had become a constant reminder of the fact. Suddenly, it seemed to bind her to the past, a barrier preventing her from moving into the future. Slowly she twisted it. It had never left her finger since the day Gavin had placed it there but as she toyed with it, her eyes filled with tears and another face loomed before her.

“Oh, Gavin,” she wept, lifting the photograph that had sat beside her bed for the past few years. “I love you. I always will but I can’t stay bound to the past. I’ve met someone. He’s not at all like you. I don’t even know what he’s like but I will never know while I’m still bound to you. Please understand, Dear, that I must move on. She placed the photograph back on the table, the tears rolling down her cheeks. For a long time she sat on the bed and wept. Then, slowly, deliberately, she removed the ring from her finger and placed in her jewellery box.

The following evening, Wendy packed her books as usual and walked along the corridor towards the exit. She made no move to slow her pace as Peter fell into step beside her. “I suppose your husband is waiting for you?” he asked.

Wendy did not answer immediately. There was a distinct lump in her throat and her heart was racing. Subconsciously, her thumb sought the ring on her finger. It felt strangely bare. She stopped and turned to him.

“Actually, no.” she said quietly. “My husband died three years ago. I’m just starting to get over it.”

Peter gaped, unable to hide his embarrassment as he recalled his earlier blunder. “I’m…so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realise.”

Wendy smiled. She felt genuinely sorry for him. “Please don’t be. You had no reason to know. Gavin was killed in a car accident as he was coming home from work.” She smiled again in an attempt to reassure him. “Now if you will excuse me, I must rush. I have a bus to catch.”

She hurried off but he followed her. “Don’t go, Wendy. Let me drive you. It’s the least I can do in the circumstances.”

For a brief moment, Wendy hesitated. Her thumb found her naked finger and she suddenly felt free. A sense of deep peace swept over her.

“I think I would like that,” she said happily, as she fell into step beside him.