Seasons of Her Life (39 page)

“I wanted to surprise you. We just transferred to Miramar. I told my husband I was coming here and he'd just have to get along without me. He's a great guy, Ruby, you'll like him when you meet,” Opal cried, swinging her sister off the ground. “God, it's good to see you. I really missed you. Letters aren't enough, if you know what I mean. And speaking of letters, I haven't had one from Amber in almost a year. Last time I heard, she had seven kids. How's that possible, Ruby?”

Ruby laughed, never happier in her life. “If I have to tell you, then you better file for divorce. My God, Opal, it's so good to see you. Look, you're going to have to help me with this party. Marty has ants in her pants. She can't wait to open her presents. That's what this party is all about, you know.”

“I didn't come empty-handed.”

After the party, while Martha played with her presents and Andy whirled around the back patio on his little bike, the sisters talked, laughed, and cried.

“How's Mom?” Ruby asked hesitantly.

“I don't know. I invited them to the wedding, but they didn't come. You should see my in-laws, Ruby, they're wonderful. Real parents. They laugh and talk a lot and tell jokes. Mac's father is always clapping him on the back, and his mother is forever kissing and hugging him. He pretends to be embarrassed, but he isn't. You know, when he calls his family he never hangs up till he says I love you both to his mom and dad. We really bummed out, didn't we?”

“Victims,” Ruby said sadly. “Just like Mom.”

“C'mon, I want to hear all about Major Blue and Calvin,” she said slyly. “Everything, Ruby, and don't leave out one word. We have years to catch up on. Swear, every word.”

“Okay, you got it. You better sit back. You see, it was like this . . .”

 

Three hours later Opal said, “Are you telling me you never, as in
never
, heard from Calvin? Ruby, how can that be? I thought.... what I mean is, you loved him heart and soul. Your marriage doesn't sound like it was made in heaven. Why don't you try and contact him again? It will put some spice in your life. I dare you!” Opal said devilishly. “
I
would.”

“Would you really?” Ruby said.

“Yep. Life's too short not to be happy. I say go for whatever makes you happy. Think about all those miserable years we had growing up. We're never going to get them back, not that either one of us wants them. But we should be compensated somehow, don't you think?”

“Well ...”

“Well what?”

“I'm married,” Ruby said lamely.

“You could get a divorce if you wanted to. We don't have to answer to Mom and Dad anymore.”

“Opal, I . . . I'm afraid I can't sustain any kind of relationship. Everything always goes sour. Only at St. Andrew's, where I worked like a dog, was I
happy
. Why is that? I felt like I was just beginning to find out who I was and then bam, we moved, and I'm back to the same old me. Does any of this make sense to you?”

“Sure, you're nuts like the rest of us.” Opal giggled.

“Aren't you ever serious?” Ruby demanded.

“I try not to be. I had enough of that back in Barstow. I like it on the edge. I guess I get that from Mac.”

Ruby looked at her sister. She was pretty, in a wholesome way, with her large blue eyes and soft golden curls. She was tiny, size six, maybe a four. Petite. But she was nervous, her hands and head seemed to be in constant motion, her feet tapping the floor in rhythm with her moving hands. She smoked too much and she was already on her fourth drink.

“I guess you're a free spirit,” Ruby said.

“Pretty much so. Now, what are you going to do about Calvin what's his name?”

Ruby laughed. “Well ...”

Ruby felt as if a piece of her life were being cut away when Opal
left four days later. They'd had such a wonderful time trading gossip and memories. Pop was still peeing through a tube; no one had heard from Grace since she'd moved to Pittsburgh; and Rena now had four holes in each ear for her jewelry. She had become quite a real estate tycoon, now owning a dozen properties. Of the three Connors sisters, Opal had come out of Barstow the healthiest. That she was happy showed on her face. Ruby had felt more than one twinge of envy as she talked to her sister. She felt shame now, though, when she remembered the way they'd sliced Amber up in little pieces and their father as well.

They'd cried and blubbered, hugging each other as their memories, at least some of them, were laid to rest.

They'd promised to keep in touch, to call once a week, and to write every two weeks. Tears flowed at the airport as Ruby, with her children at her side, watched until the plane was a speck in the sky.

Ruby dropped Martha off at a friend's before she returned home with Andy, who was asleep in the backseat. Andrew wouldn't be home; he never was on a Saturday. On Sunday either. Or most nights.

She had her own life now, and it was full and rewarding. She and Andrew lived in the same house, ate at the same table occasionally, and slept together rarely. Their married life had gone straight downhill after Andrew's return from Korea. She'd taken the full blame for it. Sometimes she didn't feel anything for her husband. The rest of the time she detested him.

In true military fashion, according to Andrew Blue, she had to keep lists and charts. Even Martha, young as she was, had a list—one for chores, one for personal hygiene, and one for the children she played with. And little Andy had a chart, which Ruby was forced to maintain. Saturdays, before Andrew left to play golf with his friends, he made a point of checking off the charts. The first time he'd done it, Ruby had been flabbergasted; he'd made a sloppy star at the top with his dull pencil. Martha lived in fear of the stars, or lack of them. When she didn't see the squiggly pointed design, she knew her father would threaten her with loss of privileges. The child was a nervous wreck, trembling and shaking in her father's presence. A bicycle was the prize she'd been striving for, but so far it eluded her. She needed, according to Andrew, four stars in a row, or a whole month of perfect behavior. To date, she'd fallen off the flagpole six times in her try for the bicycle.

Last month Ruby railed at her husband when he checked the list on the last Saturday of the month. Martha would have earned the bicycle but for a stray sock found under her bed. Andrew had looked triumphant when he stared down at his daughter and told her she had to start over. Not only had she railed at her husband in defense of her daughter, she'd actually given him a shove that sent him sprawling across the kitchen, and then she called him a son of a bitch in a voice that dripped venom. He'd laughed as he gathered up his golf clubs and hadn't returned till three-thirty in the morning, reeking of liquor.

Time and again she questioned why she stayed in her loveless marriage. The best she could come up with, as she'd told Opal, was that she didn't want to fail and deprive her children of a father. Opal had looked disgusted and told her in her own way she was no better off than their mother. And it was true.

Andrew was having affairs, one after another. She'd seen the pitying looks on the faces of the few friends she'd made, but she didn't care who he shacked up with, as long as he left her alone.

Andy woke as soon as the car pulled into the carport. He scrambled on chubby legs to the back patio, where he started to tinker with his little bike, yelling at the top of his lungs that he was going to “fix it.” Ruby smiled indulgently. He was so normal in every way because Andrew hadn't gotten to him yet.

A packet of letters had arrived in the afternoon mail. A thick one from the bank in Washington drew a frown. A letter from Amber with the same postmark made her clench her teeth. What was Amber doing in Washington? The third envelope sent her heart thumping: it was from Dixie Sinclaire. The last had been forwarded twice. The original postmark was months old.

She ripped at the envelopes of the three letters, though she knew in advance she wasn't going to be able to handle the news in any of them. If she had been a drinker like her husband, she would have headed for Andrew's liquor cabinet and swigged straight from the bottle.

The letter from the bank was simple but full of surprises. George and Irma Connors had contacted the bank (because that's where their monthly checks came from) and asked that the bank forward their letter to Ruby. It really wasn't a letter at all, but a demand for housing in Florida because Mrs. Connors was suffering from severe arthritis and Mr. Connors had retired from the monument works. Ruby laughed hysterically when she read it. She tossed it on the floor and sifted through the other pieces of paper. One, written on crisp French Embassy letterhead, was an outright offer to buy her house on Poplar Street at a price three times what she'd paid for it. A note from the bank clipped to the French offer, recommended doubling the rent and offering an option to buy with a lump sum settlement up front. The note went on to say Washington was now in a supply-and-demand cycle. If, the note said, you decide in the future not to honor the option, the option monies will be returned to the French Embassy. The second form was for the renewal lease on O Street. The bank's recommendation was to terminate the current lease when it came due in thirty days because the present tenants were behind in their rent payments and owed back late charges. Embassy personnel would snap up the property at twice the rent. The bank's final recommendation was so startling, Ruby felt light-headed; if you decide to honor your parents' request, we recommend you take the option on Poplar and let us see if we can get the same kind of deal for O Street. The option monies, along with the one-month advance, will give you sufficient money for a down payment on a house for your parents.

Ruby's eyes were wild as she fought to quiet her breathing. She'd paid off her debt a year earlier and now this. As far as she was concerned, she didn't owe her parents anything. What in the goddamn hell were they doing with their money? Between her two sisters and herself, they'd paid out almost eighteen thousand dollars. Opal said she'd paid for a few years and then stopped. Mac, she'd said, had forbidden her to send another cent. If her parents sold their house in Barstow, they would have more than enough to pay for a house in Florida or, at the very least, to make a down payment. Of course, if her father wasn't working, no bank would give him a mortgage. She wasn't working, so where did they think she'd get a mortgage? Why me? she grated.

“I fix, Mommy,” Andy said, tugging on her skirt, his red plastic screwdriver clutched in his chubby fist.

“Honey, I wish you could,” Ruby said, hugging the little boy. “Mommy has to read the mail. Fix your wagon now and make it run, okay?”

“I fix,” the little boy chortled as he attacked the rubber wheel on his wagon.

Ruby unfolded the letter from Amber. She'd probably gotten the same letter from their parents and wanted to know what to do.

The letter was short and to the point. They'd been wiped out by a typhoon and lost everything. Saipan, she said, had been virtually washed away. Nangi had appealed to Calvin, who pulled some political military strings and managed to get them all to Washington. With what little money they had, they rented a house in Arlington, Virginia, but the seven kids had to share bedrooms, and they were so cramped, she couldn't stand it. The bottom line was that they needed a loan of five hundred dollars. Calvin had loaned them two hundred to see them through. If she could find a competent baby-sitter, she was going to go back to work. Nangi was looking for a job. She could live for a year on what they had to pay out for one month in the D.C. area. “I know what a major's pay is, Ruby, and I know you're a saver. Lending me five hundred dollars won't kill you. I'll pay you back.”

Ruby crunched the letter into a ball and tossed it across the yard. “My ass,” she muttered. There had been no mention of their parents, so that could mean only that Amber hadn't been asked to contribute. She didn't even want to think about Calvin's contribution to her sister's welfare.

She unfolded Dixie's letter. Her hands trembled as she smoothed out the single sheet of paper.

Ruby blew her nose and wiped at her eyes. This wonderful letter canceled out the other two by a mile. Seven years to retirement. Rumson, New Jersey. She said the words over and over like a litany. She now knew where she would retire, and if Andrew had no desire to go to Rumson, she'd go alone. Seven more years. Seven more years.

Ruby fixed herself a glass of iced tea, gathering her writing materials together before she rejoined her son on the patio. First she wrote to Amber. It was a short letter. She apologized for not having any available cash to send. She wished her luck on her new move and said she was confident things would work out. She included a recent picture of Martha and Andy.

The letter to the bank was carefully worded; the letter she enclosed to her parents was even more so. She instructed the bank to sell the house on Poplar Street and to pay cash for her parents' house in Florida. The deed was to be in her name alone. Her parents could stay in the house for their lifetime and pay her one hundred dollars per month rent. It was a take-it-or-leave-it offer, and she fully expected her parents to reject it—not that she cared one way or the other.

Her conscience pricked her as she walked around to the front of the house to put the letters in the mailbox. She could have offered Amber the house on O Street until she got on her feet financially. She could still offer her five hundred dollars if she wanted to tap the money the bank would get for the option on her remaining house. She didn't owe Amber anything. Not one damn thing. She had to keep reminding herself that she hated Amber.

All afternoon she stewed and fretted about her curt response to her sister. At six-thirty she called Opal in San Diego to ask for advice.

Ruby read Amber's letter over the phone. Opal laughed. “You know you're going to do it, you just want me to agree with you. If it was me, I'd do it. What the hell, Ruby, you're the only one of the three of us who's solvent. Jeez, you must have felt great when you wrote to Pop and the bank. You finally got your pound of flesh.”

“Is that what it is—my pound of flesh?” Ruby asked in a hushed voice.

“You bet. Actually, if you stop and think about it, it's a double whammy. You're socking it to old Amber and at the same time you're helping her. I'm not sure if Pop will realize you got him by the short hairs. Go for it, Ruby, but you were too cheap on the rent. Think about that!”

“I'm thinking about the way you talk,” Ruby said sternly. “Where did you learn such things?”

Opal whooped with laughter a second time. “From my navy flier husband.” Opal's voice turned serious. “It makes you the better person, Ruby. Just do it. The reasons don't matter. Listen, my husband is due any minute now, and while he was generous in allowing me to visit you, my time is his once he walks through the door. I love you, Ruby. I'll write. Hey, I hear Mac's car; he drives the way he flies. See you.”