The Loves of Ruby Dee (40 page)

“He won’t like being squashed up there next to his parents. You know he hated to be crowded.”

The afternoon of the funeral was clear and crisp but windless. The sun beat down and warmed the ground. With the fine weather, Ruby Dee didn’t worry about bringing the baby—little Zoe, finally after three boys.

The funeral was small. Those who had come were loyal friends. Hardy had changed a lot in those last years. He’d taken to playing dominoes twice a week down at Reeves’s Quick Stop; either Ruby Dee or Will would take him. Each Sunday they had a family dinner at the Starr Ranch, and Hardy enjoyed everyone being there, most especially the babies. It was discovered that babies liked him. Whenever one of them got colic or plain fussy, it was Hardy who rocked them. Crystal’s second baby spent a number of nights in Hardy’s arms.

“I trust Hardy with my baby like I don’t trust anyone else,” Crystal once confided to Ruby Dee. Crystal generally whispered around Hardy.

That evening, after everyone had finally left and all but the two oldest children, Crystal and Lonnie’s daughter Kendra and Ruby Dee and Will’s son J.W., were asleep, the family gathered around the kitchen table. The table was big, as was the entire house. Will had built on a two-story addition, because he said he needed room.

On the table was the colorful Whitman’s chocolate tin Hardy had kept in his room. He had left instructions that the box be opened after his funeral. Everyone wondered what was in it, but no one had peeked.

Lonnie took his finger and scooted the box over in front of Will. He still deferred to his brother.

Hesitantly, as if a snake might pop out, Will lifted the lid.

Inside were three envelopes, one addressed simply:
To all of you,
another with Will’s name on it, and a third with Lonnie’s. Will opened the envelope addressed to them all. As he unfolded the paper, he cast a glance at Ruby Dee, and she laid her hand on his thigh.

Will scanned the words before he cleared his throat and read aloud. Ruby Dee was already smiling. She could hear Hardy’s voice in every word.

You all know by now that you have inhairited a lot more money than you thought I had. Ha! on you. If you boys have a problem with me leavin your wives equal shares, too bad. They cooked for me.

I didn’t put a note in here for Crystal, cause she and I never did talk much anyway. Just so she don’t feel left out, tho, I want her to know I have apresiated her trusting me with her babies.

I didn’t put a note in here for Ruby Dee, cause she and I most generally said anything we needed to while I was alive.

Hello, I’m gone.

—Hardy W. Starr

They all had to chuckle. And to point out all the misspellings. Crystal said that even if he’d made her nervous, she had liked him, at least after the first couple of years.

Will and Lonnie set their letters aside, and then, their spirits lighter, they delved into the tin.

“I can’t see, Mama,” Kendra said as she and J.W. battled for space.

There was a clean Skoal can containing a lot of baby teeth, surely Will’s and Lonnie’s. There was a pearl-handled pocket knife, and a spoon with the image of a cowboy on the handle. Crystal said it was Tom Mix; she was into collectibles. There was a pair of dice, very old, and a wedding ring, whose no one knew. There were pictures of Hardy’s mother and father—and one of Lila, too. He had scratched an X across her face.

“She was beautiful,” Ruby Dee said.

“I can’t believe Dad kept her picture.” Bitterness laced Lonnie’s voice.

“I can,” Will said, thoughtfully. His eyes met Ruby Dee’s, and understanding passed between them.

Last, Will picked up a tattered folio and opened it. He looked astonished, glanced from the folio to Ruby Dee. J.W. wormed up beneath his father’s arm.

“It’s a picture of Mama,” J.W. said, unimpressed. He liked the pocket knife.

“What?” Ruby Dee craned to see.

The face in the photograph did resemble her. Somewhat. The resemblance startled her. It was an old photograph, from the twenties or thirties, Ruby Dee guessed from the style of the woman’s hair and the picture itself. On the inside of the folio was written: “For my dearest H. S., with love, Jooney.”

“Good Lord, she looks just like Ruby Dee,” Crystal said.

“Her hair’s different,” Kendra said, practically.

Will and Lonnie and Crystal stared at Ruby Dee, as if she had better explain. Ruby Dee sat back in her chair.

She said, “Hardy and Jooney were lovers when they were young. She died before they got married.”

Understanding came into each set of eyes, like the dawning of the sun. Ruby Dee kept looking at Will. She couldn’t read his expression. Even after these years, he could hide from her.

J.W. said, “You mean this isn’t Mama?” He glanced from one adult to another.

Kendra told him, “No, pea brain. It’s just someone who looked like her.”

Later the envelopes for Will and Lonnie disappeared. Ruby Dee guessed that Lonnie had taken his with him. She saw Will in their big chair, reading his, when she came into the bedroom after settling J.W. and checking on the two other boys.

She went over to look down at Zoe in the bassinet. She looked like Ruby Dee, but seemed to have Will’s eyes. She wondered whether they would darken. Each of the boys had her eyes.

“I sure have more babies than I bargained for, Miss Edna,” she whispered.

“Don’t put this one in overalls, Ruby Dee. It’ll encourage her to be a tomboy.”

Fine, Ruby Dee thought.

Glancing over at Will, she saw him drop his hands in his lap, then lay his head back. She went to him, moved the letter and settled gingerly in his lap. There were tears at the outer corners of his eyes. She pressed her cheek next to his.

“What did he say?” she asked hoarsely.

Without opening his eyes, he handed her the letter. It was brief, as Hardy always had been.

“I weren’t much of a daddy, but you’ve always been a good son. I did love you and I’m proud of you. Take care of Ruby Dee. Guess you saw the pictur. If I get to heaven and Jooney ain’t there, I’ll know the truth.

—
Hardy

(Guess I won’t know if I go to the other place.)

After he was gone and no one could call him to account for it, he’d expressed what he had never been able to say aloud. Ruby Dee knew this was the gift Hardy had given to Lonnie, too. Or tried to give. It was up to Lonnie to accept.

Later, Ruby Dee and Will lay in the cherry-wood bed in their big bedroom, with its picture window and view of the high plains. So many lights sparkled in the distance nowadays. Ruby Dee lay in Will’s arm and looked at them.

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

“Uh-huh. I’m not real sad. I guess that sounds strange, but I’m so relieved that Hardy lived right up until he died. I wouldn’t have wanted less for him.” She could not have stood seeing him suffer.

Will patted her arm.

They lay there quietly for long minutes. Ruby Dee listened to Will’s heart beating. She never tired of that. Will drew circles with his thumb on her arm through the sleeve of her gown. She didn’t often sleep bare these days, in case she had to jump up and see to the children.

Will said, “You knew about Jooney...that Dad thought you were her, right?”

“Cora Jean told me. I don’t know if he thought I was her, or just that I reminded him of her. Hardy and I never spoke of it. I considered it something private for him. None of anyone’s business.”

“How did she die?” Will asked. “You know, don’t you?”

“She got burned up.”

He didn’t say anything to that.

“Have you been sorry, Will, that we came back here to live?” She hadn’t thought he was, but she worried sometimes.

“I’ve never been sorry, and I’ve never been jealous of Dad. Don’t you know what you are, Ruby Dee? You’re our hub...for all of us. Good God, I’m so glad to have you.”

The emotion, the fervency, in his voice startled her. For an instant she didn’t even dare breathe. And then she threw herself at him. “Oh, Will Starr.”

He kissed her and held her until he slipped off to sleep.

Ruby Dee lay there safe and secure in Will’s arms and listened to the baby nearby in the bassinet, squirming because soon she would awake. Sally got up from beneath the bassinet and hopped up on the bed, sniffing at Ruby Dee to make certain she was awake to take care of the baby.

Ruby Dee stroked Sally’s silky fur and recalled the day she had come driving up that dusty dirt road with Miss Edna’s urn in the front seat and the dream paper in her pocket.

Copyright © 1996 by Curtiss Ann Matlock

Originally published by Avon Books

Electronically published in 2002 by Belgrave House

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are

fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is

coincidental.