The Promise of Forgiveness (24 page)

R
uby decreased her speed on the outskirts of Amarillo. The two-hour drive had taken an hour and twenty minutes. She'd been lucky the highway patrol hadn't pulled her over. Hank had had little to say during the trip. He'd spent most of the time staring at the notepaper clutched between his fingers.

She passed him her cell phone. “Turn on the GPS and type in the address of the convalescent home.”

His finger hovered over the screen, his mouth puckering like a raisin.

“Never mind,” she said. A half mile later she pulled into a gas station and parked in front of the convenience store. With a few taps of her finger, she opened the GPS and typed in the address.

“You want anything to drink?” Hank asked.

“A diet cola would be nice, thanks.” Ruby watched him through the windshield, his shoulders hunched, shoes barely clearing the ground. She worried that this visit would take a huge toll, both physically and emotionally, on his heart. She could only hope that Cora had a kind word for him after all the heartache she'd caused.

“The place isn't far from here,” Ruby said when he returned with their drinks. She left the gas station and merged onto the main road. After three traffic lights and two right turns, they arrived at the Angel of Mercy Care Center.

The one-story brick facility looked every bit as worn and tired as Hank. The landscape was overrun with weeds, and only a few stubborn blooms clung to the daisy bushes. Narrow prison-style windows ran the length of the patient wings. Only a handful of vehicles sat in the lot—probably the nurses and aides who worked in the home.

Ruby parked by the front doors, where an angel statue, leaning precariously to one side, guarded the entrance. Dirt filled the cracks in the cherub's face, and a chunk of plaster was missing from her left wing. A lifetime of guarding departing souls had beaten her down and she begged to be relieved of her duties.

The strong odor of urine welcomed them inside the facility. A crowd of wheelchairs sat parked before a big-screen TV. The residents stared in trancelike states, their gazes attached to various objects in the room—a fish tank, an oil painting of a Victorian woman, a matted teddy bear left on a chair, a wastepaper basket filled with plastic drink cups.

“Do you see her?” she asked.

Hank shook his head. “But my eyes aren't what they used to be.”

A nurse in a blue blouse, white slacks, and a gray sweater walked into the room and noticed them. “Hello. I hope you haven't been waiting long. Our maintenance man is on vacation, and the alarm on the door won't be fixed until he returns.” She offered Hank her hand. “I'm Janelle. I assume you'd like to tour the facility.”

Hank stiffened, and Ruby jumped to his defense. “We're here to visit Cora Johnson.”

“The name doesn't sound familiar.”

They accompanied Janelle to the nurse's station on the other side of the room. While she flipped through the patient register, Ruby peeked into the dining hall. An elderly resident in a hospital gown and bib sat alone at a table, a tray of untouched food in front of him. It was three in the afternoon. If the man hadn't eaten by now, he didn't want to.

Cold fingers clutched Ruby's arm, and she jumped inside her skin. A woman with desperate eyes stared at her.

“Take me home.” Her rank breath hit Ruby in the face, and she stepped back.

“What's your name?”

“I don't belong here.”

“Margaret!” A nurse marched toward them. “You should be in your room, resting.”

“I don't want to be here,” Margaret whined.

“This is your home now.” The nurse escorted the woman away.

Ruby returned to the station and spoke to Janelle. “Does Margaret ask to go home all the time?”

“She's new here. She'll settle down soon.”

“She seems to have all of her faculties. How did she end up in here?” Ruby asked.

“Her son moved to Florida, and he and his wife decided not to take her with them. They sold her house and brought her here.”

No matter how bad off Hank got, Ruby would never put him in a home. A few weeks ago she'd been determined to give him a piece of her mind and then head to Kansas. Now, as she stared at the haggard face that had won her forgiveness and a piece of her heart, she couldn't imagine her and Mia not being with him for however many days he had left on earth.

Janelle glanced up from the register. “I can't find Cora's name in our records. Is it possible she's in a different facility?”

“I don't think so,” Ruby said. Unless the private investigator had gotten the name of the convalescent home wrong.

“How are you related to Cora?”

“She's my birth mother,” Ruby said.

Janelle picked up a walkie-talkie. “Heather, will you please come to the front desk?”

A few minutes later a second nurse joined them. “These folks are looking for Cora Johnson. I don't see her listed in the book.”

“They moved Cora to the hospice wing three days ago.”

Hospice?

Hank swayed, and Ruby clutched his arm. “Can we see her?”

“I'll take you to her room,” Heather said. They walked through a second set of doors and down a hallway. “I wasn't aware that Cora had any relatives.”

“How did she end up here?” Ruby asked.

“Her landlord found her passed out in front of her apartment. He called 911.”

They moved aside when two men wearing scrubs pushed a gurney around the corner and headed in their direction. Hank stiffened as the sheet-covered body passed by.

“That's not Cora,” Heather said. “Her room is this way.” They continued down the corridor. “Cora suffered a stroke. The hospital did all they could for her, but because no next of kin were ever located, she was released into the state's care and transferred here.”

“When did her health take a turn for the worse?” Ruby asked.

“She stopped eating five days ago. We're giving her IV fluids and making her as comfortable as possible.” Heather stopped outside room seven. “I'm afraid her pneumonia isn't improving, but she's a fighter.” The nurse offered a sympathetic smile, then left them in the hallway.

Ruby closed her eyes and thought back to the afternoon she'd opened the envelope from Hank's lawyer and learned she'd been adopted. No way could she have predicted that a few months later she'd be visiting her birth mother on her deathbed.

•   •   •

H
ank looked scared. And too damn old.

What if, after seeing Cora, he stopped caring if he lived? They'd been robbed of a lifetime together, and the thought of Hank choosing to go with Cora and leave her and Mia behind was too painful to consider. Cora had already destroyed Ruby's relationship with Glen Baxter. Couldn't she leave Ruby's other father alone?

“I'll stay here if you want privacy,” Ruby said.

“We'll go together.” Hank grabbed her hand, and Ruby clutched it tight. He might not have said the words, but he needed her, and no matter her feelings for Cora, Ruby would help Hank through whatever awaited him inside the room.

“Ready?” With a gentle nudge, she urged Hank through the doorway.

A single bed sat behind a partially drawn curtain that concealed the upper half of Cora's body. A beige blanket covered her from the waist down.

Hank scuffled across the floor, his gait uneven. Ruby hoped it was his bad hip giving him trouble and not the pacemaker ticking out of whack. He removed his cowboy hat and placed it over his heart. Ruby waited by the doorway, allowing him a private moment with the woman who'd held his heart prisoner for a lifetime.

A single tear slid down Hank's wrinkled cheek and dripped off his chin. Ruby could almost hear the voice in his head begging Cora to accept his love. Nothing would make him happier than believing she carried his heart with her to heaven.

He'd offered Cora his love and a better life, but she'd turned her back on him. Pity was all she'd get from Ruby.

She joined Hank at the foot of the bed. The moment seemed surreal, as if she watched the scene unfold from somewhere outside her body. Cora didn't look like a woman who'd spent her life breaking men's hearts. A cloud of pearl-white curls threatened to swallow an innocent doll face. Only a few wrinkles and age spots marred her porcelain skin. Even with one foot in the grave, Cora's beauty shone through.

A clear tube fed oxygen into her nose while her buxom chest rose and fell in shallow, quick movements. A frail arm rested above the covers, where IV fluid fed into a blue vein on the back of her hand. Had that hand caressed Faith's head before she'd dropped the ruby necklace into the bassinet and fled the hospital?

Hank moved to the side of the bed and grasped Cora's fingers. Ruby pushed a chair across the floor, made him sit, then leaned against the wall and watched the scene unfold.

“It's Hank, Cora.”

Cora's eyeballs moved beneath the closed lids—maybe she recognized his voice.

“You gave me a scare when you ran off after giving birth to Faith.”

Ruby felt the urge to punch the wall. Hank had gone to bed every night for decades not knowing if the woman he loved was safe or had met an ugly fate. It wasn't right. This whole situation was messed up.

“I never quit hoping that you'd find your way home.” He rubbed his eyes. “But we're together now. That's all that matters.”

Hank drew in a deep breath. “You should see Faith. You'd be real proud of the woman she's become. Her parents named her Ruby. Every day she wears the necklace I gave you.”

Why hadn't Hank told her that
he'd
purchased the jewelry? Ruby felt better about wearing it now that she knew one of Cora's admirers hadn't given her the gift.

“You've got a granddaughter named Mia. She's smart as a whip. Wants me to quit smoking. I know you told me to quit, too. I've cut way back.” Hank played with Cora's fingers as if he could will them to squeeze back.

“My lawyer found Faith, and she's staying with me now. You get better so you can come home. Faith'll look after us.”

He slouched in the chair as if settling in for an afternoon chat. “Heard you tried to see Faith when she was sixteen.” He shook his head. “I know I disappointed you because I didn't keep her with me, but I couldn't raise her. Not by myself. Not without you.”

Ruby had heard enough. She slipped from the room and returned to the nurse's station, where Heather was dropping blue pills into tiny disposable soufflé cups.

“Do you know if the name of the apartment complex where Cora lived is in her file?”

“Let me check.” Heather pulled out a black binder with pocket folders. She read through the patient notes. “Belmont Estates. It's not far from here. Go south on Winchester—that's the street out front. Turn left at the first light, and it's down the block.”

“I'm going over there to speak with the manager. If Hank asks where I am, will you tell him I'll be back soon?”

“Sure.”

Ruby stepped outside and drew in deep breaths—one after the other until she flushed the stench of death from her nostrils. Then she got into the pickup and drove off.

When she arrived at Belmont Estates, a neon sign in the office window blinked V
ACANCY
. The units were single rooms, not apartments. The trailer Ruby had leased in Missouri had been nothing to brag about, but it had been downright homey compared to this dump.

The rental office was the size of a closet. The man behind the counter set aside his newspaper and offered a yellow-toothed grin. The first four buttons of his purple silk shirt were open, showing off a thick gold chain and a clump of dark chest hair that looked like the stuff you pulled out of your bathtub drain. He hadn't shaved in at least two days. Food crumbs stuck to the beard stubble at the corners of his mouth. His greasy hair was thinning on top, but rather than sport the popular comb-over style, he'd used a brown spray-in concealer on his scalp—two shades darker than his natural hair color.

His sleazy gaze zeroed in on Ruby's bosom. “I rent by the hour or by the day.”

“I don't want a room. I was hoping you might remember a former tenant. Cora Johnson.”

“You a cop or something?”

“Family.”

“The name sounds familiar. Maybe.” He leaned back in his chair and winked.

Jerk
. Ruby pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and tossed it on the counter. He ignored the money.

“I can go get a cop if you want.”

The smile slid off his face, and he stuffed the twenty into his pocket. “I called 911 after I found her.”

“How long had she lived here?”

“She was here when I took over as manager three years ago.”

Three years?
“Any idea where she'd been before that?”

“Lady, do I look like I'm friends with my renters?”