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Ruby was disturbed that Henry hadn’t called last night. This was partly because she missed him so much, but it was also because it gave her mother a chance to say, “I told you so.” Mama didn’t need much provocation to say this. One mute telephone was enough.
Mama had been foretelling awful consequences ever since Ruby quit school at sixteen to marry Henry. This was in spite of the fact that Henry drove Mama to the grocery store or the doctor every time he was in town. He also listened to her complaints and looked at her old family photo albums when she sat him down by the hour after dragging them out of the chifforobe in her bedroom.
Ruby suspected the photo albums were displayed so frequently so that Henry wouldn’t forget the superiority of Ruby’s family. They weren’t sharecroppers like Henry’s parents had been. Several teachers and a lawyer could be found in the family tree. This made it even worse, as far as Mama was concerned, that Ruby had quit school and had been content for years to do nothing but be Henry’s wife.
Ruby would never forget the time Mama came to visit in San Gabriel. She and Ruby were looking for something in the garage and they came across the old cotton sack Henry had used as a child to gather cotton in the fields.
Mama was incredulous. “What in the world does he want to keep that old thing for? I’d think he’d want to get rid of it and forget about the fact that he came from a bunch of sharecroppers.”
Ruby knew how to put the right edge on her voice to let Mama know, without disrespect, that she wouldn’t listen to any criticism of Henry. “He isn’t ashamed of the fact that he had to work hard as a boy. He still works hard today. We have a decent house to show for it, and a decent life.” That ended the discussion, but Ruby knew Mama would find other opportunities to criticize Henry in the future.
Now the silent telephone, which had sat last night like a giant black toad perched on the side table in the living room, began to torment Ruby again. Maybe she should call him. That would mean putting the call on Mama’s bill, or using the calling card Henry had given her, the card she had never used and didn’t know how to use. And what if he didn’t answer? She would be more miserable than ever.
“Seven o’clock and he hasn’t called again.” Mama said this from the big easy chair where she was reading her Bible.
“He’ll call. He’s busy in the evenings. He and Frank Novak—you remember the man across the street? They go to meetings sometimes. They’re involved in some projects to improve our neighborhood.”
Mama cleared her throat. “Seems to me it’s taking a long time getting that plumbing fixed. What’s Henry doing for a bathroom? It sounds like something he made up to keep you away longer. I saw this show on Oprah the other day about men who have the middle-age crazies. They buy these sports cars, or get involved with young women they work with.”
“Henry doesn’t work with women, and he wouldn’t be involved with them if he did.” Saying it didn’t do anything about the icy lump growing in her chest. “If he doesn’t call soon, I’m going to call him. I want to get to bed early.”
“Whatever you say, Daughter.” Mama had that superior tone of voice which could drive Ruby crazy if she let it. She counted to ten slowly as she found her purse and located her calling card.
Mama’s magnifier helped her read the small print on the back, and she transcribed the directions onto a pad by the phone. She dialed her home number, and the phone rang six times before the answering machine came on. Maybe Frank could tell her where Henry was. She let Frank’s phone ring eight times before she hung up. Maybe one of the elderly widows could tell her something. None of them was ever nice to her, but the unreasonable trickle of panic running through her told her to do something other than sitting and waiting.
Mrs. Henthorne lived right beside Frank, and she could see across the street to Ruby’s house. An operator gave Ruby the number, and Mrs. Henthorne answered after two rings.
“Mrs. Henthorne, this is Ruby Jackson. I’m calling from my mother’s house in East Texas. I’ve been trying to get in touch with Henry and haven’t been able to get him. I also tried Frank Novak, and . . .”
“I don’t see any lights on at your house. I can’t see Mr. Novak’s house from here in the living room, but I haven’t heard anything over there this evening. I must say, I’ve been wondering what’s going on around here—and then we had some real excitement last night.”
“What happened?”
“Just after you left, the next thing I know Darlene is gone, too. She went off with her sister and that minister she’s so sold on.”
“But what happened last night?”
“First, let me tell you about the other. It’s not that I want to gossip, but there are some things you may want to judge for yourself. That young woman we’ve been seeing a lot of lately—I think her name is Monica, and she’s a case worker for some agency—she spent an entire evening with Mr. Novak this past week.”
“I’m sure it was business, Mrs. Henthorne. Frank is involved in so many causes, and he’s not the type to be . . .”
“Oh, no, he really isn’t. I know that. But Mrs. Jackson, have you noticed the way that woman looks at him. I think she’s crazy about him. Anyway, then we had the protest at the crack house.”
“What? There was a protest at the crack house? Did Henry take part in this?” The trickle of panic Ruby felt before threatened to turn into a torrent.
“Yes, we all did,” Mrs. Henthorne said proudly. “We learned they’ve been selling drugs at the school, and something had to be done.”
“Protesting against them could be dangerous.”
“”I know. “I’ve hardly stuck my nose out of the house since last night. It was really scary.”
“Mrs. Henthorne, please! What happened last night?”
“Someone shot at Mr. Novak. It happened when he pulled into his driveway.”
Ruby’s head was whirling, and she stretched the telephone cord to its limit and sat down on the couch. “Was he hurt?”
“No, but it broke the windshield of his truck and a side window, too. He was lucky. The bullet just missed his head. They shot from the alley behind the house.”
The icy lump in Ruby’s chest had grown so that it threatened to crowd up into her throat. “The police came, surely. What did they think?”
“They’re investigating. You know, the usual. Everyone thinks it had to do with the protest at the crack house, but I have a theory of my own. I shouldn’t say anything, but I couldn’t help thinking . . . you know how all these women are hiring hit men to kill their husbands these days . . .”
“Mrs. Henthorne! Darlene wouldn’t do that!”
“If you’ve watched enough talk shows during the day, Mrs. Jackson, you know people will do just about anything.”
“When you see that Henry’s home, would you please call and tell him . . .” Ruby felt her voice going out of control, and she took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Please tell him I’ll be home on the evening bus tomorrow. Ask him to meet me at the bus station. Tell him seven o’clock. And thank you.”
