School started and I was doing well enough, but I hadn’t made any friends. I hadn’t really needed any since I got Bunny, but he couldn’t come to school with me. He’d taken to spending his days at the Red Eye with Frank. We’d drop him off in the morning and pick him up after school. And let me tell you, it was no small feat convincing the pig to ride with my mother driving the blue van, but I’d sit in the back with my hand over his eyes the whole time.
There were a couple of bullies at school, and you know how I feel about bullies, I used to beat them up, easy—but I’d grown up. My boots were even making blisters on my heels. Also, I feared that if I caused any trouble, somebody might discover our secrets. So I trained my mind away from the little idiots.
One day Joe Brewer showed up at my school to have lunch with me. I’d seen other kids with adult visitors, mostly parents, but I never asked Mother or Eleanor to come because, well … our secret again.
I couldn’t stop smiling that I had a guest at school. Even though the other students had been cruel to me, because word got around about my mother being arrested for armed robbery, I didn’t care. They were staring at me wondering who this big important man was, having lunch with me, Ruby Clyde Henderson. (I was also glad that we had graduated up to the full-sized table and chairs. I didn’t think it would be appropriate for a man like Mr. Joe Brewer to sit down in one of those little chairs they had in the lower school. His knees would be up around his ears.)
A timid boy approached our table, shoulders up, and asked, “Is that your daddy?”
Joe Brewer, as my daddy, was too much to hope for, and I so wanted to say yes, because he could be my daddy. He could. But I shook my head, no.
The kid rocked back and forth on his heels. “They bet he was a policeman coming to arrest you. I bet that he was your daddy. Damn.”
“Watch your language, young man.” Joe Brewer stood up and waited for the boy to slink back to his tableful of snickering weasels.
Joe Brewer sat back down slowly and cocked his head. I shook my head that it didn’t matter. I’d mastered that since the first week of school, when the bullying started. I didn’t care, not one little titch. Really I didn’t.
“Have you spoken to a teacher about all this?” Joe Brewer sized up the situation all by himself.
I said no, I could handle it. Actually, I had spoken already to the homeroom teacher, but she just said not to come whining to her. She said I needed to get a backbone. If she only knew! I tell you what, I had a much bigger backbone than she would ever have. I could beat her to pieces with my backbone. I had plenty of backbone. Ask anybody. Except that teacher, of course. She was— I bit my tongue at the “S” word and instead said wrong-headed. Who on earth would tell a child to get a backbone?
After we finished eating, Joe Brewer asked me to get my book bag and come out to the car. On the way out, he stopped at the teachers’ table and said to all of them, “I am taking Ruby Clyde Henderson home for the afternoon. When she returns in the morning I expect you to have taught your students and yourselves a lesson in civics. The law of this land is innocent until proven guilty.”
They stared up at him like raccoons caught in the garbage.
He continued. “I am an officer of the court and I have the power to provide a guard for her safety.”
Then I piped up, “And armed guards won’t look too good for your school.”
Joe Brewer took me by the elbow and marched me out. “We’ve made our point.”
I didn’t make any friends at school, but after that, they gave me a wide berth.
* * *
Anyway, on the drive back to the ranch, after we picked up Bunny from the Red Eye, Joe Brewer announced he had a surprise for me. He rolled up to the ranch house and stopped, then broke into the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face. He was usually a grinner, not a toothy smiler.
I turned in the car seat and waited.
He reached into his jacket pocket and took out an envelope. “I received this letter from the home for unwed mothers.”
He’d done it. He’d found Eleanor’s son. And he must have gotten good news because his pride was busting out.
“Why don’t you do the honors,” he said, handing me the envelope.
I turned it over in my hand. Then I showed it to Bunny and said, “I thought something so important would be bigger, heavier—too heavy to lift. Like you.”
We got out of the car. Bunny twirled by Joe Brewer, waiting for his treat. I headed toward the porch. Eleanor was looking out the window. She had no idea what we were about to tell her. Life is like that. Full of surprises.
Eleanor walked onto the porch and saw us, obviously in cahoots. “What are you three up to now?”
We walked up the stairs of the porch.
“What?” she asked. Suspicious.
“I hope you don’t mind, Sister Eleanor…” Joe Brewer started. And he explained how I had wanted to give her peace of mind about her son. He explained how he had finally located the home for unwed mothers and spoken to the administrator at length. At first there was a wall of privacy, he said. But he explained to the administrator that the birth mother had a life-threatening illness and that she needed to know that she did the right thing by her son. No details, just assurance that the child was safe and well and loved.
“I used all of my trial techniques, my powers of persuasion,” he smiled. “But she refused, citing the strict privacy policies that were agreed upon at birth. It was in the child’s best interest, she said, and warned me never to call again. But then out of the blue I received this in an envelope with no return address.”
Aunt Eleanor took the envelope, unfolded the paper, and read. Her eyebrows arched high into her forehead, making her eyes round and wide. They filled with tears that spilled down her cheeks. She caught a quick breath and said, “Oh dear God.”
We sat quietly. Mother joined us on the porch and Eleanor said, “Look at this, Barbara. Look what your daughter has done.”
She handed Mother the letter. Mother read it and handed it back to Eleanor. From her face I couldn’t tell if Eleanor was happy or sad. Finally she asked me, “Have you read this?”
I shook my head.
“Do you want to?” she asked.
I nodded.
She handed me the letter and said, “After all, this is your doing.”
I unfolded the paper; it was a handwritten letter.
Dear biological birth mother,
I’ve always known I was adopted so I don’t mind writing you a letter. I have other siblings who are also adopted. I’m not supposed to say anything about them or us or me. But I am happy with my mom and dad, and I do have everything I want, except a skateboard. Mom won’t let me.… Wait, I can’t say that either. I have a nice house and friends and stuff and I’m healthy. They said you wanted to know that. Thank you for asking. I can’t sign my name, but I have one.
Bye,
* * *
I went upstairs to rest. Rain fell softly on the roof. I drifted into sleep with my light on, imagining that the rain was tears of angels crying for Eleanor and her son. When I woke up, it was night. My bedside light was on. But Eleanor sat on the edge of my bed, holding my hand.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi,” I whispered back. “I hope you don’t mind I did that. I needed to do something important for you. I promised God.”
“I do not mind.” She squeezed my hand. “And I wouldn’t recommend breaking promises to God.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s like your pieces of love,” she said. “You have given me a piece of the child I can never fully know.”
“But I wanted to heal your cancer.”
“Ruby Clyde.” She lifted my hand and kissed the fingers. “Listen to me. You have healed something far more important.” She took my hand and held it over her heart, and we sat like that for a long time. I leaned into her, then she kissed the top of my head and said, “My son is where he is supposed to be, and you, child, are here with me.”
Then she reached over my head and switched off the bedside lamp.
That night, in my dreams, I grabbed snakes right behind their heads and looked in their mouths. But I wasn’t afraid because I could see all the way down their throats to their empty rattles.