Breaking Matthew (9 page)

Then she met my gaze with damp eyes that pierced right through me. “I know you’re trying to help. You just can’t fix this.”

Looking down at those eyes, I saw the same girl who’d filled me with hope during my darkest hours. The dreamer, who believed in me no matter what. The fighter, who never let me wallow in my sorrow. My chest tightened, and I prayed that somehow, now that she was in need, I could give her hope as well.

“Ruby, don’t give up. You can fight this. You won’t be alone, I swear.” I covered my heart with my hand. “I will not let you down when you need me this time. Don’t plead guilty.”

“All right,” she said, throwing her hands out to the side. “I won’t plead guilty. But I won’t let you spend one dime on this, you hear?”

“What? How else—”

“Not one dime!”

“So how else are you gonna get the money to get out of here?”

“That’ll be my concern, not yours. Now there’s nothing more for you to do, so get on up to Nashville and do your interviews.”

“I already told you. I’m not going anywhere, so quit trying to get rid of me.”

She huffed and went back over to her cot, throwing herself onto it. “Fine. Do what you want. But I’m exhausted. I’m going to rest for a while.” Then she turned to the wall and pulled a blanket over her head.

I watched for a few moments as she tried to hide the tremor in her shoulders. “Ruby?”

No answer.

“Are you ever going to forgive me?” I asked.

No answer. I stood there and waited—for what, I wasn’t sure. But the cell was so quiet, I could hear the drip of the pipes in the walls. As I turned to leave, her voice drifted through the air.

“I don’t know.”

That afternoon I drove out to the Graves farm just outside the city limits of Hanceville. It was a pretty little piece of land with a small but sturdy house in the middle. A small wood was off to the east, with a creek that ran alongside the house. And off to the north, behind the house, were several acres of farmland that had been recently laid by in preparation for winter.

When I drove up, Asa was over at the barn, chopping wood. He straightened and waved to me as I got out of my car, strolling over to meet me at the front porch with an outstretched hand.

“What brings you out here today?”

“I was hoping I could speak with you and Mrs. Graves about Ruby.”

“Sure, sure. Come on inside.”

He ushered me into a cozy living room with a bedroom off the back. Over to my left was a table with four chairs, and a neat little kitchen just beyond. Mrs. Graves gave me a half-smile as she worked at the stove.

“Why, Matthew,” she said, her voice tired. “Come on in and have a seat.” She probably hadn’t slept much the night before either.

I took off my hat and slid into a chair at the table. As I did, I caught sight of the newspaper on the floor nearby. I leaned over and flipped it to the side with the front-page article about Ruby.

“You haven’t burned this yet?” I said.

Mrs. Graves frowned. “I plan to. Soon as I get done fuming over it. The nerve of that man.” She shook her spoon in the air.

“Which one?” Asa said, taking the chair to my right.

“All of them,” she said. “Mr. Adams, old man Cass, and whoever that rotten excuse for a journalist is who wrote the thing. Curse all of them!”

“Has Ruby seen it?” Asa asked me.

I shook my head. “Thankfully, no. I didn’t even mention it.”

Mrs. Graves wiped her forehead with her apron and went back to stirring her pot. I read the headline again.
Hanceville girl charged with murder; Claims self-defense
. A picture of the scene at the barn was next to the article. Ruby sat on a hay bale with her bloody hands covering her face. All of it seemed rather tame at first glance, until the reader got into the fourth paragraph, where an unnamed source explained how it couldn’t have been self-defense based on the evidence at the scene. No facts, of course. Nothing to back up his claim, but the paper printed it anyway.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it. Brother Cass had spoken with the writer, painting a picture of a troubled young lady who used to steal from the soup kitchen at his church. He even hinted at Ruby participating in secret ceremonies connected to witchcraft.

“I tell you what,” I said. “I don’t understand how Brother Cass can stand in that pulpit every Sunday and preach the Lord’s words, and then turn around and attack a sister in Christ.”

Mrs. Graves pointed her spoon at me. “Don’t you get me started on that man. Maybe it’s time I had a talk with him myself.” She locked eyes with Asa, and her anger melted. “He wasn’t always like this. Maybe I could reason with him.”

“You know as well as I do he ain’t gonna listen to reason,” Asa said. “He’s gonna take all his anger he’s built up at me and push it right onto Ruby’s shoulders.”

“What exactly is Cass so angry about?” I asked. “I thought he just didn’t like Ruby, but it seems like it goes much deeper than that.”

Asa gave a sideways glance to Mrs. Graves. “There’s a long story there, son. I’ll just say this. His niece passed away many years ago, and he blames me for it.” He dropped his head and muttered, “Rightly so, I reckon.”

“But what does that have to do with Ruby?”

Mrs. Graves’s spoon took aim at Asa. “This is precisely why I didn’t want Ruby getting mixed up with your ideas in the first place.”

“I know,” Asa said. “Maybe you were right. But there ain’t no going back now.” He looked over at me. “You know about Ruby’s gift, don’t you?”

“Asa!” Mrs. Graves stiffened.

“Well, he does. Ruby said so.”

The hair on my neck prickled. I’d never said a word about Ruby’s
gift
to a single soul. I still clung to the small possibility I’d imagined everything I’d seen. But I figured it was about time to face the truth, and maybe get some answers.

“I saw her do it once…I think…with that colored woman.”

Mrs. Graves threw down her spoon. “I can’t listen to this.” She turned and walked out the back door.

Asa let out a deep sigh as he watched her go. “Grace was her best friend.” I must have looked at him funny, ’cause he backed up a bit to explain. “Brother Cass’s niece, Grace, was Lizzy’s best friend growing up. We all ran around together as kids. Anyway, there’s a long story as to how things got all messed up, but I was angry, and when Grace needed me, needed my gift, I refused to help. Brother Cass blames me for her death.”

“Forgive me for being dense,” I said. “But I still don’t see what that has to do with Ruby.”

“Son, when you were sick, Ruby came to me for help. She was desperate. I didn’t think I could help you, but she wouldn’t hear none of it. She marched me right over to your deathbed and we prayed over you. That was the first time Ruby truly experienced what healing was all about.”

A cool shiver went down my spine as I recalled that night. My nightmare, the one that haunted me whenever I came home, always started with that night. Strange thing was, it never started as a nightmare. It started as a sweet dream of releasing the monster inside my lungs. It only turned awful when I lost Ruby.

“After that,” Asa continued, “Brother Cass figured Ruby was the same as me. He figured her for a fraud. He never even gave her a chance.”

I glanced down at the paper again, finally putting together all the comments Brother Cass had made about Ruby early on, before I realized what a snake he was. He knew all along, at least on some level, and he’d judged her as evil.

“What about the rest of this article?” I asked. “The stuff about the colored folks. Any truth to that?”

“Honestly, I ain’t sure how close she is to them anymore. She keeps that to herself. I think the idea of her being romantically involved with one of them is garbage, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was still visiting that woman she was helping before.” Although Ruby’s mother was no longer present, he lowered his voice. “Frankly, I’m concerned it could get out of hand.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s been some hints that Ruby’s a target now, and maybe even us. I ain’t sure. Just overheard things in town yesterday. Some people are saying Chester was a member of the Klan.”

“That explains a lot. Especially why he’d go after her that first time. Maybe he found out she was still helping them and he wanted to teach her a lesson again. Maybe he heard the same rumor about her being involved with one of ’em. Who knows?” I drummed my fingers on the table, trying to figure out what I could do to help. If it were Ruby out here, and me in that cell, she’d have already figured everything out and returned me safely to my home. She’d save me just by her sheer will. Why couldn’t I do the same?

“Ain’t there any way to get her the money she needs to fight this without ruffling her pride?” I asked.

Asa shrugged. “Now, you solve that problem, and you just might be a miracle worker yourself.”

“What about her brothers? Would they be willing to help any?”

Asa sighed and shook his head. “Nobody’s heard from Henry in months. He could be anywhere from Mississippi to California. Last I heard he was playing ball in the summer for a semi-pro team in Texas. I think during the fall he works with the Civil Conservation Corps somewhere.”

“And James?”

“James is a mess. He’s all worked up about being in the middle of everything. He ain’t gonna be any help.”

And then it hit me. “What about her church? Would they support her? What about the people in Hanceville she’s helped over the years?”

“You mean ask ’em for money?”

“An offering. We could get the church to have a special service. An all-day singing or something. Churches love those kinds of things. They could take up a special offering to help Ruby.”

“I reckon they’d do it, but I don’t think that little church could come up with so much as a hundred dollars. Maybe not even fifty. People are hurting right now. No one’s got anything to give.”

I wasn’t listening to his doubts. I’d lit on something I knew would work. And I was prepared to be as determined and persistent as Ruby. “You let me worry about how much money people can donate. You and Mrs. Graves get the singing organized and start letting people in the community know about it. We’ll get that church filled to the steeple with people. You watch!”

Chapter Eight

Ruby

Another day began with me still in jail, and I wondered if God was ever going to speak to me or work His power through me again. I’d prayed most of the night, till I passed out from exhaustion. I’d never felt God’s absence like this, and it was slowly becoming about the loneliest feeling I’d ever had.

I was grateful to see Matthew when he showed up after breakfast. I was even more grateful when he handed me a gift through the bars. “Here,” he said. “Your mother wanted you to have this.”

I took Daddy’s Bible and ran my hands over the cover. Then I opened it up to the front where Daddy’s name was written inside in his messy scribbles. My throat tightened, and I had to push back my tears. I missed him so much.

“Thank you,” I said. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I think I have an idea,” he said. His smile warmed my heart, and chased away the lonely ache in my chest. I’d been trying so hard to push Matthew away, but that morning it just felt nice to have the company.

“How’s Mary doing?” I asked, realizing we hadn’t talked about anything but my troubles for days.

“She’s doing real well. Real well. She’s going to college, but I think she spends most of her time studying the young men there rather than her books.”

“Not surprising.”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “She’s turned out to be a lovely young lady.”

“I’m sure she has. She was always kind to me. She was a good friend.” I hung my head, ashamed I’d pushed Mary away after Matthew had left for college. But I simply couldn’t figure out how to be friends with someone and keep my secrets at the same time. I still hadn’t.

“How about you?” he said. “You ever hear from Henry?”

“Oh yes, just about every couple of months or so. He’s doing well for himself. Playing baseball out west and working for the Conservation Corps. He’s helped build several projects.”

“Have you written to him? To let him know what’s going on here?”

“No. What could he do about it anyhow? I keep asking him in my letters when he’s coming home again, but he doesn’t really answer. Just says he’s very busy.”

“Well, I can’t judge him,” he said. “Been a pretty lousy brother myself. I can’t say I visit often either.”

“Why is that?” I asked, more for my own understanding of Henry than anything else. “What’s so hard about coming home?”

He kicked his foot against the bottom of the cell bars and shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s complicated. Father don’t make things easy. He has his own ideas about who I should be and what I should be doing, and I don’t have any use for those ideas. When I’m away, I’m free to make my own choices and be my own man.” Then he blew out a big breath. “Then there’s you.”

“Me?”

“I’ve been pretty mixed up ever since I saw…well, you praying over Hannah. I didn’t handle it well, and I guess I was ashamed of myself. I hated the thought that I might run into you and have to face what I done.” He held my gaze a while, as if searching for something. “I still don’t quite know what to make of you, but I want you to know how sorry I am for leaving you the way I did.”

My heart had just about stopped beating altogether. I scolded it and set my mind right again. Seemed like I had to do that a lot when I was around Matthew. Had I learned nothing from that painful goodbye? I had to find a way to forgiveness that didn’t land me right back in the briars of loving him.

“I know you’re sorry, and that you want to make up for it. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

He dropped his gaze to the floor. “But you won’t forgive me.”

“You said it yourself. I can’t lie. I thought I’d forgiven you a long time ago. But seeing you again made me realize that I hadn’t.” I paused, feeling terrible for having to tell him the truth. “I want to. Just give me a little time, all right?”

He nodded and cleared his throat. “Of course. I understand.” He looked around like he wasn’t sure what else to say. “How are you doing this morning? You get any sleep last night?”

I shrugged, not wanting to worry him any more than necessary. “Enough.”

“You’re still planning on telling that lawyer of yours that you’re pleading not guilty, right?”

“Of course,” I said. I walked over to my cot and slid Daddy’s Bible under the pillow. Then I turned back around and forced a smile. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll talk to Mr. Oliver today when he comes by.”

“I don’t know how you do it. How can you stay so calm about all this?”

I nearly laughed as I plopped down onto the cot. “Truth is, I don’t feel calm. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since all this happened. In fact, I’ve been struggling with my own faith.” I knew I shouldn’t say anything, shouldn’t open myself up to Matthew. But he was the only one who knew everything about me. I couldn’t seem to help myself. “I keep praying for God’s help, to feel Him with me. But it seems like I’m just talking to the walls. He doesn’t answer.”

Matthew pulled the chair over from against the wall and sat down, leaning toward me like he was ready to study me. “Does God talk to you? I mean, out loud or something?”

“It’s more like a quiet thought in my mind. Something I know I didn’t think myself. And there’s a calm peace that comes with it. Like a gentle breeze.”

“Must be nice to hear from Him like that. To know exactly what He wants from you. He’d have to write it in the sky with the clouds for me to get it. Might not get it even then.”

“He speaks to you too. I’m sure of it. In a way that’s just meant for you. You just have to learn how to listen.”

He grinned. “I reckon I’m not a good listener then.”

“I wish He’d speak to me now,” I blurted, barely able to keep my voice even. “I ache for Him to give me some kind of direction. It hurts almost as bad as when Daddy died.” My legs felt jittery, so I stood and began pacing the cell.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said. “You just stay the course, and keep explaining what happened. The truth is going to come out, and everything will be just fine.”

That’s what I was afraid of. Except when the truth came out, things would never be fine again. I was going to lose everything. My gift, my family, and most certainly my freedom. I wondered for a moment if it wouldn’t be better to just tell Matthew everything. If God wasn’t going to speak to me, maybe Matthew could help me figure out what to do.

But just as I was about to open my mouth, the door to the lobby opened, and the sheriff walked through. I clamped my mouth shut. A man in handcuffs trailed behind the sheriff, with Deputy John Frost right behind.

Sheriff Peterson walked the man in handcuffs into the cell next to mine. He looked like he’d been dragged out of a pond and all the way to the jail. His clothes were tattered and filthy, and after only a few steps into the room, his stench permeated the whole place. Sheriff Peterson shoved the man into the cell next to mine. The man looked over at me with dark, dead eyes. He started to look away, but then he looked at me more closely, like he was figuring out who I was.

My skin crawled, and I had to look away. I made eye contact with John, and he gave me a slight nod. “Hidey, Ruby,” he said.

I smiled back. “Hi there, John. You been doing all right?”

“Sure have.”

Sheriff Peterson looked between John and me. “I take it you two know each other?”

John motioned toward Matthew, who waved back at him. “We was all in school together over in Hanceville a few years back.”

“Well, isn’t that nice,” the sheriff said. John’s smiled faded, and he stiffened. Then Sheriff Peterson looked over at me. “I got to take care of business on the other side of the county. Deputy Frost here’ll be keeping an eye on things for the rest of the day. Holler if you need anything.”

They turned for the door, but just then Matthew jumped up from his chair and started toward them. “Is that who I think it is? That’s Emmitt Hyde, ain’t it? You can’t put him next to Ruby.”

Sheriff Peterson turned to him with a grimace. “Now, just what do you think he’s gonna do? Squeeze through the bars or something? You need to go on home and get out of my business, son.”

“Matthew,” I said, “what are you doing?”

He stepped back to the door of my cell and pointed at the man again. “Don’t you know who that is?” I stared at him in confusion, unable to answer. “That’s Emmitt Hyde,” he continued. “He’s been all over the papers for years now. He’s been traipsing all over the surrounding counties stealing what little the farmers have around here.”

I looked over at the man again. He’d sat down on his cot and was staring at Matthew and me like he’d like to come over and choke us. I turned back to Matthew and saw the concern growing in his eyes. “It’ll be all right. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“He’s bad news, Ruby. He even attacked a couple of farmers over in Morgan county when they caught him stealing. Put both of ’em in the hospital.”

My legs felt a little wobbly beneath me, but I was determined not to show an ounce of fear to anyone, least of all Matthew. But when he leaned down and looked me directly in the eyes, my resolve weakened for a second.

“Please Ruby, just let me post your bond. Let’s get you out of here and figure out how to face this together. Nothing good’s gonna come from you staying in here.”

I did waiver, just for a brief moment. But I knew I couldn’t put my heart in his hands again. So I shored up my resolve. “I’ll be fine.”

He slammed his hands against the bars before turning away from me. “It’s the same old thing with you as always! ‘I’m fine,’ you say. Well, look at you.” He stepped back over to the bars. “You
ain’t
fine. When are you gonna get that through your thick head?”

“I reckon we both have thick heads then,” I said, my blood heating up. “’Cause you sure love acting like I need saving all the time. I don’t need you to rescue me!”

“That’s great! ’Cause I ain’t doing it. You want to handle this on your own? Be my guest.”

With that, he strode straight past the sheriff and out the door. I watched him go, regret washing over me. My eyes welled up for just a second, but I pushed away the ache in my chest, knowing it was best for both of us that he go.

Sheriff Peterson raised his eyebrow at me. “You need anything, Miss Ruby?”

I shook my head and he closed the door. I stole a quick glance at Mr. Hyde. He was smiling like a cat about to pounce on a mouse.

Mr. Hyde stayed quiet most of the day. I figured it had something to do with finally getting something to eat that almost resembled a meal. He scarfed down his stew and bread like a dog. Then I noticed him looking eagerly at me as I ate mine. He didn’t ask for it, though. I expected him to, but he didn’t. He just stretched out on his cot and closed his eyes. I thought he might have fallen asleep, but his breathing wasn’t quite right for a man who was sleeping. It was too shallow.

Shortly after supper, John came to let me out for my evening washing and to relieve myself. There wasn’t a washtub big enough for a bath, but there was a small bowl in a little bathroom that was filled with water for me each night. I cherished that washing more than anyone could know. It was one of the few things that kept me feeling human.

After removing my dress, I leaned over the tub and splashed some of the water over my face, letting the grime of the day trickle away. I scrubbed my face clean and then as much of my body as I could manage in the tiny space. Then I put my ragged dress back on. I hoped Mother would bring me a clean one the next day. Between the makeshift baths and not having any place to take care of myself, I knew I looked terrible. I loosened my hair from its braid and pulled a handful around in front of me. It felt like straw in my hands. It shouldn’t matter, but I hated looking so poor with Matthew coming around every day. No wonder he felt so sorry for me.

I resigned myself to doing what I could, ran my fingers through my hair several times, pinned it back up, and then let myself out. John escorted me back to my cell. I could feel Mr. Hyde’s eyes on me the whole time. It made my skin feel like there were a thousand tiny chiggers crawling all over me. I walked over to my cot and sat as far away from his cell as I could.

“Come on, Emmitt,” John said. “I reckon it’s your turn now.”

They disappeared for a while, so I closed my eyes and concentrated on my prayers. Seemed like only a few minutes had passed when I heard them coming back. Mr. Hyde came through the cell door and stopped right in the middle of his cell. He looked over at me, and I could’ve sworn he looked even more menacing with his black hair slicked back. His eyes bulged out, and his jaw jutted forward. If he’d washed himself, it sure didn’t make a lick of difference. He still smelled to high heaven and back.

John closed his cell door and left us there to ruminate in the stench. Mr. Hyde shuffled over to the bars separating our cells and leaned onto them, his hands dangling into my cell. The black grime surrounding his nails made me wonder what kind of hardship they’d seen. I couldn’t help but have some compassion for him. He didn’t look much different than the poor souls I’d once served at the soup kitchen, except he had this awful darkness that just seemed to sit on him.

When I was younger, I figured out I could see this sort of light around people. Not like a bright light that shone all around them; not like they were glowing or anything. But if I looked at people with my heart, if I saw the brokenness that weighed them down, and God showed me His love for them, then I’d start to see them in shades of light. Some people, like Mary, were as bright as the sun, warming me from the inside out every time they were near.