Seasons of Her Life (61 page)

“I'll tell you what, Dr. Harvey, I'll pray for one. Howzat?” Ruby asked tiredly.

“You got my vote. See you in a bit.”

A bit turned out to be nine hours. Ruby spent them pacing, drinking coffee, and smoking cigarettes. She felt grungy and dirty. Twice she trekked down to the lobby to see if the Denzel family was still there. The children were stretched out on the plastic sofas. The parents were huddled together, the husband's arm around his wife's shoulders. Ruby felt like crying.

Ruby found her way to the chapel. How hushed it was. The scent of candle wax was almost overpowering. “Either you do it from the heart or you don't do it at all, and you never do it for yourself,” she murmured.

Ruby slipped into the polished pew and dropped her head into her hands. The words were stilted at first, because she hadn't prayed for a very long time. “Listen,” she whispered, “I know You haven't heard from me in a very long time. I can't promise I'm going to do this again real soon, either. That crazy-looking doctor up there on the fourth floor said they need four miracles. I'm not in the miracle business, but You are. At first I was going to pray for Dixie, but I know in my gut she's going to be okay. We're two of a kind, she and I, and that would be kind of like asking for something for myself. Instead, I'd like it a whole lot if You'd shift into second and direct it all to that little family. I'll pick up the tab if You do Your part.” She prayed then, all the prayers she'd learned as a child and never forgot.

A long time later, a weary Dr. Harvey found her asleep with her head in her hands and leaning over the pew. He shook her shoulder gently. Startled, she toppled sideways. He reached for her, his surgeon's hand comforting and strong.

“Is she okay?” Ruby asked groggily.

“The operation itself went well. She's in I.C.U., down the hall from where we spoke earlier. You can see her in the morning, but only through the glass partition.”

“You look tired, Doctor,” Ruby said softly.

“When I was sixteen and learning to drive, my father made me drive in reverse through his homemade obstacle course for hours on end. When I wanted to quit because I tensed up and you had to be alert, he made me keep at it till I thought I would drop. That's the kind of tired I am right now.”

“You should get some sleep,” she said, patting his shoulder. Of course,
she
was wide awake and uncertain what she should do now that the hospital was asleep for the night.

Her travel bag in hand, she said good night to the doctor and headed for the lavatory down the hall, where she gave herself a sponge bath. She changed her underwear and stockings and put on a clean blouse. She brushed her teeth three times. She felt like a new person when she searched out an all-night cafeteria, where she ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate. While she waited for her sandwich, she opened the local newspaper that had been left on one of the tables. The Denzel catastrophe captured the headlines. She read it word for word before she turned to the life-style page and Ann Landers, Heloise, and her helpful hints. She learned that an open can of ground coffee would destroy, ab-so-lute-ly destroy, any kind of odor in a refrigerator or freezer. White vinegar, Heloise said, would open a drain if mixed with baking soda. Everybody in the world knew about white vinegar and baking soda, Ruby snorted. She read on: use toothpaste against the grain of wood to erase nicks and scratches. She'd known that, too. She wondered when the famous lady would come up with something to get the gooey, sticky price labels off glassware and dishes. She put the newspaper down.

Then she remembered Dixie's purse. Why had her friend given it to her? Was she supposed to open it? Ruby undid the zipper. How neat Dixie's purse was, so like herself. Her own was a jumble of keys, papers, makeup, loose change, and paper money. A pack rat's paradise. Dixie's purse held a wallet with two hundred dollars, a change purse full of quarters, a comb, lipstick, and a small compact along with a sealed envelope bearing Ruby's name.

Ruby slit the envelope with her nail. The single sheet of paper and the five-dollar bill brought tears to her eyes. She had to read the simple agreement twice and then a third time before she fully comprehended what she held in her hands. Dixie had sold her her shares of the business for five dollars. Ethical, honest Dixie had removed the five-dollar bill that belonged to her from its frame and substituted another to make the deal binding. Dixie had protected her the only way she knew how in case ... in case she didn't make it. She blinked away her tears. She would not cry.

Ruby's eyes popped at the array of medical equipment in the I.C.U. Two of the nurses, their eyes on the monitors, were eating chocolate-covered cherries. A smile tugged at the corners of Ruby's mouth when she saw the sky-blue Mrs. Sugar bag sitting on the end of the desk. She cleared her throat to gain the nurse's attention.

“Can I see Mrs. Sinclaire? I'm her sister.” The lie was getting easier.

“Only through the glass. She's sedated. She was awake a few moments ago. Stand directly in front of the bed, and if she's awake, she'll acknowledge you. The doctor's already made rounds, and she's doing just fine.”

Ruby pressed her face against the glass. How white her face was, how still her hands. Her eyes were closed. Ruby risked a glance over her shoulder at the two nurses who were now devouring the contents of the Mrs. Sugar bag. She tapped lightly on the glass with the tips of her nails. Dixie's eyelids fluttered and then stilled. Ruby tapped again. She could see her friend struggle to focus her eyes. She tapped again. This time Dixie raised her hand slightly. Ruby almost whooped, but remembered where she was. She offered a thumbs-up, her face splitting into a wide grin. She mouthed the words “You're okay.” Dixie's hand moved a second time to show she understood. Ruby reached into Dixie's handbag and withdrew the letter. She held it up and nodded her head. Dixie smiled before her eyes closed.

Back at the nurses' station, Ruby asked if she could write a note, as she had to return to New Jersey. “I'd appreciate it if you'd read it to her when she's awake. She saw me, so she knows I was here.” The nurse agreed.

“I think you should keep this,” Ruby said, handing over Dixie's purse minus the letter that was now in her own purse. Of course, she had no intention of keeping Dixie's half of the business.

On the way to the elevator, she saw the Denzels sitting on a bench in the hallway. She wanted to say something to them, to tell them she knew how hard it was, but she didn't feel she should intrude on their grief. She did wonder where the rest of their family was, their neighbors and friends. Probably taking care of things back at the farm. Someone must be taking care of the little girls. She smiled at the Denzels, her eyes misty.

Downstairs in the lobby, Ruby looked around at the overhead signs for one that would lead her to the billing office. She followed the arrow.

Checkbook in hand, she approached a middle-aged woman with frosty hair and wire-rimmed glasses. She explained what she wanted to do.

“This is very generous of you, Mrs. Blue. It will lift a heavy financial burden from the family. That's not to say they're worrying about it at this time. I'm sure this is more than enough. What should we do with the remainder if there is a remainder?”

“Give it to the Denzels. I'm leaving now for the airport. Is there any way you can find out what ... how ...”

“Of course. I'll just be a moment.” She was back a minute later. “They're holding their own. I wish it were better news, but this is ... wonderful things happen here.”

“Someone told me the same thing yesterday. I'll hold on to that.” Ruby smiled. She knew in her heart the slim-to-none chance had escalated to a more positive outlook.

At the airport, Ruby called Calvin's office at the Pentagon and identified herself as Paul Farano's secretary. Calvin's voice was cautious when he came on the line. She explained where she was and gave him an update on Dixie's condition.

“I've been counting the hours until tomorrow when I was scheduled to call you,” he said. “I'm all clear for the second week in February. Can you imagine being together on Valentine's Day?”

“It sounds wonderful. I'll make a reservation when I return to the office. I should have it all set when you call me tomorrow. I'm so tired, Calvin. I feel as though I could sleep for a week.” His voice is so soft, so soothing, Ruby thought. She told him about Dr. Harvey and his Harley-Davidson shirt and the sign underneath.

Calvin clucked his tongue. In disapproval, she thought. “It worked, Calvin, it made Dixie laugh. Me, too, even though I didn't want to admit it. Lighten up, and don't be so serious all the time. By the way, did you take the sauerkraut juice?”

“I mentioned it to my doctor, and he said it's an old wives' tale,” Calvin said defensively.

“I hear something in your voice. You're all tensed up and your stomach isn't behaving. Am I right? I'll bet the doctor you spoke to is a surgeon, right?” Again there was no reply. “Well, naturally he's going to say that. He wants you under the knife. They couldn't print that sauerkraut-juice thing in a medical journal if it weren't true. You aren't a patient to me, Calvin, you are the person I love, and I don't believe in surgery until all other possibilities have been eliminated. Furthermore, if you have an operation, I won't be able to see you for a long time. Think about that.”

“All right, I'll buy a bottle of sauerkraut juice tonight on my way home. I got your letter. I read it five times already. I'm writing one to you, too. I'll mail it in the morning. I spent half the day and all of the night thinking about us, Ruby. Did you think about me while you were there?”

She hadn't, not really. “Of course,” she replied.

“I have to go, Calvin, there are people waiting to use the phone, and I'm about out of change. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I love you, Ruby,” Calvin whispered.

She hated whispered conversations.

Calvin Santos was operated on for his bleeding ulcers when he
collapsed and was rushed to Bethesda Naval Hospital a week before the Memorial Day weekend. His recovery was slow due to his depression, his doctor felt. The general had been passed over for his second star. The nurse and doctor who attended him thought it strange that a man of his stature had no visitors, but they closed ranks and didn't let the fact go past the surgical floor. At the bottom of his hospital chart the words
extremely depressed
were underlined twice.

On July 1, General Calvin Santos would be officially referred to as General Calvin Santos (Ret.). His wife, under protest, and his two sons would be with him when he exited the building for the last time. A picture would be taken for
Stars and Stripes
, the only reason his family agreed to take time out of their personal schedules to keep up appearances.

The first thing he did when he entered the house was to call Ruby collect at the office to apologize for not allowing her to escort him on his last day, away from the only life he'd known for thirty years. He begged her to understand, begged for assurance that she still loved him, begged her to forgive him. In return he assured and reassured Ruby that he would now think seriously and plan for his divorce. In September he said he would be going to Saipan and would meet Ruby there. “I need you, Ruby,” he said in a choked voice.

On the very same day Ruby drove to Newark Airport to pick up Dixie. She felt anxious, jittery, and yet exhilarated to be seeing her friend again.

She was at the gate, a single rose in one hand, a bag of Mrs. Sugar's cookies in the other, and the agreement and five-dollar bill stuck between her teeth.

As the passengers trickled past her, Ruby scanned their faces. Did Dixie miss the plane? Had she changed her mind? Maybe she still had trouble walking and would be one of the last off. She
really
didn't know much about Dixie's progress, only what Dixie wanted her to know. “I'm coming along. The doctor is satisfied with my progress.” That was all she'd had to go on during the past five months.

Then she saw her. She was taller. Her back was straight. She looked like an arrow. Ruby grinned from ear to ear.

Dixie stopped, threw her arms in the air, her face alive with joy, and shouted, “Taaa-daaah! No, no, wait there, Ruby! Get ready!”

“I'm ready, I'm ready!”

Dixie took a deep breath and sprinted down the hall, falling into Ruby's arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Kyle said I could run, but I've been afraid to put it to the test. I probably won't do it again for a while.”

“God, you look great, Dixie. I'm so happy for you.” Ruby gurgled. “And . . . is that rouge on your cheeks? Your hair is lighter. I looove that dress. I didn't know they sold stuff like that in Minnesota.”

“This dress was a going-away present from Kyle. He picked it out himself. He said it was for the new me. He's so wonderful, and no, it's not what you think. He's just one of those doctors who really cares. He's getting married in September. Okay, I'm ready, I want to go to work. Give me a rundown on what's been going on. Is Nangi working on the Asian end?”

“It's off the ground. Smooth as silk. I'm going over in September. Want to go with me?”

“Naah, I have this wedding I have to go to.” Dixie laughed. “Tell me about Calvin. How's all that going?”

Ruby told her about her noonday call.

“I know you, Ruby. What's really bothering you?” Dixie asked, her face full of concern. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“Dixie, you wouldn't believe the stories he told me about the way he lives with his wife. I think they hate each other, but he can't bring himself to leave her.”

“How awful for Calvin. How awful for you. How's he doing now? I mean, really doing? With being passed over and his operation?”

“He says he's come to terms with it all.”

“Let him get through this the best way he can.”

“I just wish I could be there with him. But he still can't bring himself to stand up to his wife. I didn't think he was so ... so ...”

“Weak?” Dixie said, supplying the missing word. Ruby nodded. “Is there more?”

“That's it,” Ruby said, putting on her blinker and inching into the fast lane.

“Okay, we're down to two topics. I
like
this car. I want one!” Dixie laughed, hoping to wipe away the miserable look on her friend's face.

“It's parked in the parking lot. Arrived three days ago. Yours is yellow, since that's your favorite color. The top comes off, you know.”

“Oh, yeah. Did you get me one of those fancy license plates?”

“Yep. Says Sugar 2.”

Dixie clapped her hands in glee. “We should have done this a long time ago. I'm never going to drive a station wagon again.”

“Okay, Dixie. It's your day.”

Twenty minutes later Ruby pulled the car to the curb outside the office. “Listen, I'm going to park this bonbon on the other side of the lot so no one bumps into it. You go in alone. Thumbs-up, Dix.”

Dixie swung her legs over the side of the seat. “I had to learn how to do that all over again.” She giggled. She turned back and leaned over the side of the open window. “You hire any new men while I was away?”

“A sixty-five-year-old retiree who pinches ass better than a twenty-year-old.” Ruby laughed.

“Uh-huh. Won't do. I want a Kyle Harvey–type.”

“Should have snatched him up when you had the chance,” Ruby called as she swung the car around. “Until he says I do, he's up for grabs. Remember I'm the one who said it.”

“Thanks, Ruby.”

“Go on, your public awaits. If you can strut, Dix, this is the time to do it. You've earned it.”

Dixie strutted.

 

In September Ruby returned from Saipan, angry as a wet hornet. Calvin hadn't met her as he'd promised, and she had a vicious head cold she was nursing with a steam tent, rum toddies, and chicken soup.

Seven full days passed before Ruby was back to normal. She was dozing off in front of the fire when a knock sounded at her door. She opened it, expecting to see Dixie, but it was Western Union with a telegram. She signed for it. Who in the world would send her a telegram? People picked up the phone and called. Then she remembered that she'd disconnected the phone and answering machine several days before.

Ruby read the printed words, her eyes widening at the message. She walked in a daze over to the phone and dialed Opal's number. Her father was dead. Dead.

“Opal, it's Ruby.”

“Your phone isn't working,” Opal said shrilly.

“I had it turned off,” Ruby said wearily. “I was under the weather for a week or so and I didn't want to be bothered. When did it happen?”

“Early this morning. Listen, I don't want to go. I don't think I should have to go. What are you going to do?”

Instead of answering the question, Ruby asked one. “Who's taking care of things? Mom. Does Mom know how to handle stuff like that?”

“Well, how the hell should I know? Maybe it's time she learned to do what has to be done to live in this world. What's with you, Ruby?”

“More to the point, what's with
you
, Opal? If Mom is waiting for us to get there, I guess we have to take care of it. And before you can say it, Opal, I know I said I was never going back to that house, but I didn't ever say I wouldn't go to their funerals.”

“That's being a hypocrite. You hated Pop. I did, too. Why should I go now?”

“You don't have to justify anything to me, Opal. Do what you want. Not paying your debt off ... does that have anything to do with you not wanting to go?” Ruby asked quietly.

“No, it doesn't. We haven't seen them for twenty years. They didn't want to see us. Mac said if I felt this strongly, I didn't have to go. I'll send a Mass card. God will forgive me. Just send me my share of the money,” Opal snapped.

“And I thought Amber was the bitch in the family,” Ruby muttered. “By the way, did you call her?”

“Yeah, and it's on my bill. It costs at least fifty dollars to call over there. I think I should be paid back out of the estate.”

Ruby wanted to ask her what estate she was talking about. “I guess I won't see you there, then.”

“You're really going?” Opal asked incredulously.

“Yes, I'm going. Shall I give Amber your regards?”

“Hypocrites, both of you,” Opal said sourly.

“Bye, Opal.” She's drinking, Ruby thought. Somehow she'd figured that out a while ago. She'd gone so far as to confront her sister, who in turn told her to mind her own business. If nothing else, it explained Opal's mood swings, her churlishness, and silliness. Her sister a drunk. She shouldn't be surprised. With the childhood she and her two sisters had survived, it was a miracle they hadn't all ended up hitting the bottle.

 

Ruby wanted to cry when her mother opened the door. Words whirled around her head. Her tongue felt glued to her mouth. She didn't know what she was expected to do. Her mother stared at her. She stared at her mother.

“Come in, Ruby. It's so hot out there. I made some lemonade and there's chocolate cake. Would you like some?”

Ruby swallowed hard. Her mother had just uttered four whole sentences. All of them directed at her. She nodded because she didn't know if her tongue would work.

It was a pretty little house, sparkling clean and tidy, and, like the house in Barstow, empty of all personal little touches.

Irma sat down opposite Ruby, a glass of lemonade and a slice of cake in front of her. “It happened this morning. He died in his sleep. He's gone, so you don't have to feel uncomfortable. The wake is tonight. I decided one day was enough for all of us.”

“Did you call Uncle John and Uncle Hank?”

“I did, and they won't be coming. They never liked your father, but they said they would send Mass cards out of respect for me. They're good men. God will forgive them.”

“That's what Opal said,” Ruby blurted out.

Irma swallowed a forkful of cake. She washed it down with a sip of lemonade. “Does that mean Opal isn't coming?”

Ruby nodded. “If you have the wake tonight, Amber won't be here. I think you should change it to tomorrow evening. It's a long flight from Saipan.”

“I can do that,” Irma said seriously. “I didn't think about that. Why did you come, Ruby?”

“I don't know. Why did you bother to call us?” she demanded. She lit a cigarette. She saw her mother frown as she blew out a stream of smoke. “I'd like an ashtray.”

“I don't have any ashtrays. I'll get you a saucer. Your father didn't like cigarette smoke. I called you because it was the right thing to do,” Irma said, setting the saucer next to Ruby's cake plate.

“For who, Mom? It wouldn't have bothered me if you wrote after the fact.”

“It was my Christian duty,” Irma said seriously.

Ruby's fork crumbled the chocolate cake as she remembered how many slices of thick, rich cake she'd been forced to eat over the years. “What are you going to do, Mom?” she asked curiously.

“Die,” Irma said flatly.

“No, I mean now ... after ... after the funeral.”

“What do you think I should do?” Irma asked curiously.

Ruby stared across the table at her mother. Once she'd been pretty. She was still pretty, Ruby thought, but then, a child always thinks that of her mother. But she looked world-weary. Ruby wondered if she would be able to function without her husband. She voiced the thought aloud.

“It will be different. Yes, it will be different.” Irma finished her cake and carried the plate to the sink.

They were strangers instead of mother and daughter.

“Did you ever think of me after I left?” Ruby asked.

“Every day.”

“And Amber and Opal, did you think of them?”

“Every day.”

Ruby was on her feet. “I cannot believe, I will not believe, that somewhere, somehow, you couldn't have written to one of us. When you went to the market, you could have called. Something, anything, to show us you cared. I don't believe you cared for any of us.”

“I can't change what you think, Ruby. Do you want me to say I'm sorry?”

“Only if you really are sorry. I'm all grown-up now.
Sorry
is just a word people use when they can't think of anything else to say. In our case I don't think it will make any difference. I tried. You cut me off every time. You cut us all off. You don't even know what your grandchildren look like.”

“Of course I know. Your uncles always stopped by to show us pictures. Your father didn't look at them, but I did. I remember their names, too.”

“Now, isn't that nice,” Ruby said sarcastically.

“We shouldn't be talking like this. There's been a death in the family.”

Ruby snorted as she shoved the cake plate across the table. “I have a lot to get off my chest, and I'm going to get it off.”

“I always knew you were the strongest of the three. I knew your anger would make you a survivor, and I was right.”

“That stinks,” Ruby said succinctly.

“It does, doesn't it?” Irma smiled. “Each time you stood up to your father, even knowing you would be punished, I cheered you on. All that ... bullshit with the Bible, that's when I really knew.”

Ruby burst out laughing. “Mom, did you hear what you just said?”