Slumber

Diversion Books
A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1004
New York, NY 10016
www.DiversionBooks.com

Copyright ©
Working Partners Ltd 2013
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Special thanks to Kathleen Bolton.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

For more information, email
[email protected]
.

First Diversion Books edition July 2013
ISBN: 978-1-62681-102-7

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.

—
A Midsummer Night's Dream

“Ow! Son of a…”

Ruby clamped her lips over the rest of the curse. She'd slammed her elbow into the towel rod in the closet-sized bathroom. For the millionth time, she wished her family could live anywhere besides this crappy trailer. The trailer park sat so close to Highway 27 it was a wonder they didn't all have lung cancer from the exhaust spewed into their front window. All day long, semis rattled by on their daily runs to the luxury restaurants and boutiques in Sag Harbor and Southampton. For the millionth time she told herself to get over it. This was her life now, and she needed to deal with it. At least living here was better than living with Mom's ex-boyfriend, Scott, who made his points with his fists.

Ruby twisted in the cramped bathroom and angled her face upward in front of the tiny mirror, trying to catch the weak light coming from the overhead bulb. The ancient mobile home was by far the smallest place they'd ever lived, with a fiberglass shell so thin anyone walking from one end to the other made the whole place shake like thunder. The bathroom's flimsy plastic door was painted to look like sturdy oak, but if she pushed hard enough it would probably fall off its plastic hinges. It was times like these that Ruby missed the apartment. Of course, she didn't miss Mom getting her face smashed in.

The tepid water sputtering into Ruby's cupped hands turned ice cold, a sign that the propane which fueled the water heater was about to run out. They'd need to find the funds for another fifty-gallon tank. Ruby considered her employment options. Maybe she could pick up a temp shift staffing one of the big parties the elites were always throwing in the Hamptons, something that wouldn't interfere with school and watching Shelley while her mom worked. Or her standby, babysitting—although those opportunities came up less and less now that au pairs were back in fashion. Perhaps she'd ask Mom if they could pick up a housecleaning job on the side, one that didn't go through the agency so they wouldn't have to split the commission.

Ruby carefully scrubbed her face with plain soap and a washcloth, wincing at the ice-cold water. The girls at school were always asking what the secret was to her great skin, with its rare breakouts and creamy complexion.
Poverty
, Ruby wanted to tell them. It's easy to keep skin looking good when pore-clogging makeup is really low on your list of priorities.

Instead, she'd replied: “Good genes, I guess.” Maybe it was even true. Maybe her mom had great skin before sadness and worry took their toll.

Hopefully Shawn Mosely wouldn't care that her ancient tube of mascara had basically dried up. He'd surprised Ruby by asking her out after chemistry, and at first she was so flabbergasted that she stood blinking into his slowly reddening face, too shocked to answer. He seemed nice though—not one of the arrogant jerks from The Village who wore what she quickly learned was the uniform of assholes: Diesel jeans and sockless Pumas. She'd watch them gun their late-model Hummers or Beemers through the student parking lot while hip-hop blasted from their high-end stereos. But Shawn didn't seem like that kind of a guy. He carried his books in a worn backpack instead of a leather messenger bag, and his expression was direct and uncomplicated. Before she could think it through, she'd said yes.

“Great!” he'd said, breaking into a huge smile. While Ruby was processing the fact that he'd seemed kind of worried she would turn him down, he'd asked: “Where should I pick you up?”

“Um.”

How about at the most dilapidated trailer in the Sea Oats Mobile Home Community? You know, the trailer park right behind the water treatment plant? Just watch out for the potholes so big they'll take out the front end of your car, and make sure to avoid the strung-out surfers coming down from their afternoon crack sessions…

“I'll meet you somewhere,” she'd answered. “What time?”

They'd agreed to meet at the gelato shop, just a couple of blocks from Atlantic Beach. Ruby planned to suggest taking a walk along the pristine shore, practically deserted now that the summer crowds were gone. The Hamptons beaches were justifiably called the most beautiful in the world, when they weren't packed end-to-end with tourists, wannabe celebrities, and poseurs from the city.

She'd just finished swiping gloss across her lips, butterflies in her stomach, when the cell phone in her jeans pocket buzzed. She fished out the cheap, pay-as-you-go drugstore model to see Shawn's name in the scrollbar.

my dog is sick. have 2 cancel 2nite. srry.

Ruby stared at the terse message in the tiny LCD screen while anger slowly warmed her cheeks. Shawn was blowing her off.

“Whatever,” she muttered and snapped the phone cover shut without replying. Why waste a text charge on a guy who couldn't even come up with a convincing excuse? The only mystery was why he'd bothered asking her out in the first place. She should have known better than to get her hopes up. Or to think that tonight would be different from any other night.

In their tiny kitchen, Ruby hunted out the box of instant hot cocoa, one of the few treats they'd kept in the budget. She heated tap water in a saucepan then divided one packet into two mugs to make the cocoa last longer. Once it was ready, she headed to the room she shared with Shelley. “Knock knock,” she said at the door.

“Who's there?”

“Wanda.”

“Wanda who?”

“Wanda open the door so you can see what I brought?”

A spluttering giggle, the sound of the mattress creaking, and the door opened to reveal Ruby's little sister. Shelley's baby-fine blonde hair was snatched into an untidy ponytail, and her Dora the Explorer t-shirt was riding up her tummy. Ruby made a mental note to ask Mom if they could hit the thrift shop after payday to find Shelley a couple more shirts to keep up with her growth spurt. At six years old, she was already outstripping the other kindergarteners in her class. Shelley had definitely inherited Dad's height, a trait he didn't pass on to Ruby.

“I thought you were going out,” Shelly said, whistling a little through her missing front teeth.

“Nah,” Ruby answered with what she hoped was a convincing shrug. “It's more fun staying at home. I brought hot chocolate.”

Shelley's face lit up. “Ohhh!”

“And I thought I could read you a story—”

“Fairy tales! Read me fairy tales!”

“Shhh! You'll wake up Mom.”

Shelley instantly quieted. It hurt how she could turn off her natural exuberance at the drop of a hat. Another legacy from their time with Scott.

They both piled on Shelley's bed and tucked up under Grandma's quilt, sipping the watery hot cocoa. Ruby adjusted a worn copy of
Fairy Tales From Around the World
between them so her sister could see the beautifully drawn illustrations, which were old fashioned and amazingly detailed. The book was Shelley's absolute favorite, and Ruby could understand why. When she was Shelley's age, she'd been obsessed with it too.

“Okay, what'll it be tonight? ‘Ali Baba'? ‘Puss In Boots'?”

“‘The Little Matchstick Girl',” Shelley answered.

Ruby gave her sister a sharp look. The Hans Christian Andersen tale about a destitute, overworked child who dies in the snow was incredibly depressing. It also cut a little too close to real life.

“How about ‘Jack and the Beanstalk' instead?” she suggested.

“Okay,” Shelley agreed easily, snuggling close to Ruby so she could see the illustrations better. “Maybe we'll find some magic beans one day.”

Once upon a time, Ruby had thought magic existed too. Then real life happened, starting with Dad dying in a car crash when Shelley was only a couple of months old. Their lives had been slowly unraveling ever since. Instead, Ruby replied, “I'll settle for winning the lottery.” Which would theoretically be possible if only they could spare a dollar to buy a ticket.

Ruby drew a deep breath. “Here we go. Once upon a time…”

Three stories and two empty mugs of cocoa later, Shelley's slack weight against her shoulder told Ruby that her sister had fallen asleep. Carefully, she disentangled herself from Shelley's limbs and moved her until she was lying down properly.

Shelley's eyes blinked open as Ruby was tucking the quilt around her. Crystalline-blue stared up at her—Dad's eyes, which they both shared.

“You look really pretty tonight, Ruby,” she said sleepily.

Ruby stroked Shelley's head as her sister's eyes drifted closed again. After a long moment she whispered, “Thanks.”

She waited until she was certain Shelley had fallen asleep before moving around the tiny room to close the blinds and pick up scattered toys. Because Ruby slept on the floor on the air mattress, more than once she'd woken up to a well-used Barbie doll or stuffed animal poking her in the back. A glance at the clock on the bedside told her that it was nine o'clock—an embarrassingly early time to go to bed on a Saturday night.

Mom had already turned in. She'd pulled a triple shift, since the guy running the local Happy Housecleaners franchise didn't mind if his employees worked themselves into a coma for a little extra cash. Mom had practically dragged herself through the front door, face drawn and gray from the long day scrubbing toilets and washing windows in the mansions. At least housecleaning in the Hamptons came with job security.

Might as well lock up and go to bed too.
Ruby tiptoed out of their room and padded around the darkened trailer to check the front door latch and make sure all the lights were off.

A shaft of light coming through the cracked door to her mother's room shone on the olive-green rug. Weird. She'd thought Mom was asleep.

“Mom?” She pushed the door open. Then she gasped: “Oh my God!”

Her mother was sprawled on the floor at the foot of her bed. Ruby rushed over to her. “Mom, oh no, please, please wake up—”

Mom's skin was clammy and damp, her brown hair a tangled mat over her face, but her eyes fluttered open as soon as Ruby touched her.

“Don't move,” Ruby said. “I'm calling 911.” She fumbled for her cell phone.

“Wait!” Her mother's voice was surprisingly strong. “I'm okay, I'm okay. Don't call anyone. Just…help me up.”

“But Mom—”

“No! I…I tripped, sweetie.”

“And decided to lie on the floor and take a nap? Come on, Mom!” Ruby helped her mother into a sitting position. “I really should call the ambulance. This isn't normal.”

Her mother sighed. “We don't have health insurance, and we don't need another bill. I'll be fine, I'm just…tired. That's all.”

“But—”

“Ruby, drop it.”

Ruby blinked at her mother, the harsh tone was so out of character.

Her mom pressed her lips together and gave herself a little shake. Then she said: “I just need a good night's sleep, that's all. I'll be fine in the morning. Honestly, sweetie. It'll be okay.”

Her mother summoned up a weak smile, but her eyes said
don't push it
, and Ruby knew arguing would be pointless and drain even more of Mom's precious energy. Plus, she was right. They could barely afford to keep the lights on, let alone pay an astronomical hospital bill.

So she shut her mouth and helped her mother to her feet and onto the bed. She stretched out with a sigh. Ruby draped a knitted caftan over her and got some aspirin.

“You look nice,” Mom said, watching her fuss pointlessly around the room. “I thought you said you were going out.”

Ruby didn't even pause in closing the blinds against the light blaring in from the parking lot. “I changed my mind.”

“I'm glad you did.” Mom's voice faded on the last word as she slipped into sleep.

Ruby turned and regarded her mother's slender figure curled under the caftan, a work-swollen hand tucked under her cheek as she slept.

“Yeah, me too,” she said to the silent room.

One hand on the steering wheel, the other fumbling for the computer printout from Happy Housekeepers, Ruby peered at the directions yet again, wondering if she'd taken a wrong turn off Highway 27. The two-lane road had meandered past organic farms and pastures dotted with expensive show horses before running straight into a heavily wooded forest. She hoped she wasn't lost, because she couldn't afford to attract attention by being late. If Happy Housekeepers learned that Ruby had gone to work the shift, her mom would be fired.

Mom hadn't put up much of a fight this morning when Ruby insisted on taking her place, which only spoke of her mother's lingering exhaustion.

“No one will find out,” Ruby had said when her mother first objected. “I'll do the job and get out of there right away. It's not like I don't know how to vacuum and dust furniture.” Which was true. Ruby had been helping her mom on weekends since she was thirteen.

Reluctantly, realizing that Ruby wouldn't back down, Mom had finally agreed. “In and out, okay?” she'd told her. “Not a minute longer than the four hours they've paid for.”

“Got it,” Ruby had said. “This”—she checked the spec sheet from the agency again—“Cottingley Heights place is probably a vacation home. It should be basic, empty the fridge-type cleaning.”

At least Ruby hoped so. They needed a little luck right now.

Cleaning products rattled in the back of their old minivan when she hit a bump in the increasingly overgrown road. Morning light was trying to sift its way through the foliage. Privacy forests were commonplace for the bigger inland mansions, but she'd never seen one so thick with old growth red maples, pines and giant ferns. Their branches scraped the sides of her van. It was like a storybook wood, a ‘Hansel and Gretel' forest.

“Wish I had some breadcrumbs,” she muttered.

Something huge and dark hurtled out of the trees.

“What the
hell
!” Ruby automatically jacked the steering wheel and slammed on the brake. Cleaning products flew all over the back seat, and her forehead hit the steering wheel.