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Ruby opened her eyes to a light that washed the space around her with whiteness. She and Will were driving in their old Buick with the windows down, the sun warming her face, and she held Mack in her arms. Will drove confidently, fields of cotton whizzing past like snowflakes in a storm. She was about to tell Will how happy she was that they could take a holiday when the whiteness began to take on the look of plaster. She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the moment, but it was gone. As a sinking filled her chest, she opened her eyes once more.
Someone had opened the window shade. She looked around the room and saw the door was open, then looked to the dresser where she saw a brightly colored mailbag. Reaching for the bag, she studied the gold and purple pattern in the fabric, the name BARLOW centered perfectly and embroidered with fine stitches done in gold thread, and felt her spirits lift again.
“Why Sister, where’d you get this thread?” she murmured. “This is royal, downright royal.” Ruby began to sink again, thinking that she would not be seeing the bag the coming year because Nonny would not be delivering their mail to this address. Their mail would be going to a strange place. She reached out and replaced the mailbag on the dresser, planning on covering her head with the quilt, but a photograph lying on top of the phone book stayed her hand.
“I figured out the list.”
Hearing the voice, she turned to face the door. Mack slouched against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest and eyes staring at her, and she wondered how he had gotten there without her hearing him.
“I figured out the list of names Pa made on the phone book,” he said, walking into the room.
“You did?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Mack picked up the phone book and photograph, then took a seat on the edge of the bed. When he pulled the pillows upright behind her, Ruby had no choice but to scoot into a sitting position. She took the eyeglasses that he handed her and fitted them on her face.
“Sister can take the credit,” he said. “She said both you and Pa would go into a blue funk after looking at the photo album.”
She frowned. “Sister said I took a blue funk?”
“She saw you in my bedroom yesterday, in the closet.”
Instantly, Ruby became alert. She did not realize that Sister had been watching her search the bedroom. But the photo album had not her objective. The manila envelope from the Henryetta realty was what she looked for. She hoped to find something that might shed light on why her son would sell their home right out from under them, hoped to find something that would give her a reason to forgive him. But the envelope had disappeared. She did not tell Mack the real reason for her being in his room, however. She withheld the truth as he had with her. Instead, she looked to where Mack held an old, yellowed photograph next to the list on the phone book.
“Take a look, Mama. There’s four names on the phone book and, count ‘em, five men here in this picture. Pa would be the fifth. If I was a betting man, I’d wager ten against one, these guys are the same ones on the phone book.”
Ruby stared first at the list and mentally counted off the number, then at the photograph and mentally counted off the men. “What does it mean,” she said, looking at him. “I don’t understand.”
“I thought about this most of the night . . .”
Ruby watched her son rub his face, noticed lines around his eyes that indicated he had not slept, and tried to focus on what he was saying.
“I think Pa’s confusing events in the past. Nonny picked up on it yesterday at the nursing home.”
“Nonny was at the nursing home yesterday?”
“To see Henry Carter. She happened to be there when I went by to check on Pa. Nonny takes Henry gumdrops to take the edge off . . .” He waved his hand in the air as if brushing away a pesky fly, then resumed talking. “Anyway, Pa said something about having to bury them in foreign ground. I thought he was talking about Bill and Jack being buried on someone else’s property, but Nonny thought that was curious wording. She said something about needing to de-construct the meaning behind the words, and . . .”
Ruby covered her face with her hands.
“What are you thinking, Mama?”
She looked at him. “I’m thinking that you’re going too fast. I’m just not getting it.”
“These men never made it home, that’s what I’m saying. I think Pa was the only one that made it back alive.” Mack tapped the photograph as he talked and the sound resonated like a drum. “Did Pa ever talk to you about his war years? I think the bodies of these men were never recovered.”
“Lord have mercy.” Ruby sat up straighter. “Pa never talked about anything like that. He wouldn’t allow us to ask questions either.”
“That’s what Sister said.”
“I’m still not getting it.” Ruby shook her head, looking dazed. “What do these men—God rest their souls—what do they have to do with anything?”
Mack started pacing. “I haven’t figured all of it out, but I think Pa’s confusing Bill and Jack with his war buddies. He wants to be buried with them—with his buddies.”
“Lord have mercy,” she said again. “Why would he want to do that?” She stared at the young faces in the old photograph. “Why them, and not us?”
“It’s . . . hard to explain.”
Ruby heard the thickness in Mack’s voice and watched as he turned away. Sweet Jesus, she thought, he’s walked in Pa’s shoes . . . At that moment, Ruby understood more about her son than she had ever known before and more about her own father having come to understand her son. Suddenly, the word genes crept into her mind and she pushed the covers aside so she could breathe.
Feeling the need to hold Mack close, Ruby got up from the bed. Seeing his face hardened like plaster, just as her father’s used to do, she stopped abruptly. She pulled on her bathrobe instead and listened as he went on with his explanation.
“What’s important is those memories are what’s causing his nightmares. The war, he’s reliving the war.”
She nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of that. But those fits only started recently so I never made a connection . . .” She paused, seeing hesitation in his eyes.
“They didn’t just start, Mama. That’s why Grace left.”
Ruby felt her lips go numb and her legs grow weak. Then she felt Mack’s arms around her waist and the next thing she knew, she was back in the bed. “Are you saying . . .”
“Just like he did with you that night. I bet he woke up thinking he was in a battle and—”
“You don’t have to say anymore.” She clutched at the bed covers. “Can he get help? I mean, surely the Army will help him. He’s a veteran, they’ll give him medicine.”
“Pa doesn’t need the Army—or any more medicine. He needs to talk to Grace, to explain to her why he did what he did.” He hesitated. “And she needs to listen this time.”
The noise that came out of Ruby’s mouth was closer to a cackle than a laugh. She thought briefly about her Aunt Ida, locked away in Vinita, then pulled herself together. “Grace isn’t here, Mack—she run out on us years ago.”
There was a pause in Mack’s eyes. “But you’re here,” he whispered.
Still dazed, Ruby watched as Mack started pacing and talking again.
“Sister made the connection. Well, she didn’t really, but she set me thinking about the way you resemble Grace.” He walked to the bed suddenly, pulled something from his shirt pocket, and put it into her hand. “Here, take a look, Mama. Look at Grace.”
Ruby looked at the black-and-white photograph that Mack handed to her. It was one she had looked at seldom over the years for she held such resentment for the woman in it—for any woman that would abandon her man and children. Then, for the first time, she noticed the similarities. In the shape of her face to her mother’s. The way her hair grew into a widow’s peak just as her mother’s had. The slightness of her mother’s build, so like her own.
“Good God, you’re not suggesting . . .”
He paused a beat. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
“I can’t.”
“You have no choice, Mama. Pa needs it, he’s earned the right to be heard.”
“Lord have mercy.” Ruby heard a buzzing in her ears and wondered if she was suffering a stroke, then she noticed Mack was looking toward the door.
“Did you hear what I said?” Sister stood in the doorway, looking fixedly at Ruby. “Or have you gone deaf again?”
“No . . . I mean, I’m not going deaf. What was it you said, Sister?”
“I said, how do you like our new mailbag? That’s what I said.”
Ruby picked up the mailbag again. “It’s royal, Sister, Downright royal.”
“Aw, hell.” Mack rubbed his hand across his mouth.
“You don’t like it,” Sister said, staring at him.
“No, it’s pretty, real pretty. You did a fine job, Sister.”
“I did, didn’t I? You’re done with it, I’ll take it back now. I want to show it to cousin Bessie next time she comes.”
Mack took the mailbag from Ruby and handed it to Sister.
Ruby watched as Sister left the room and as Mack walked to the bed again. Why are they moving so slow? she wondered.
“There’s something else I need to talk to you about, Mama. Get up, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”
This can’t be happening . . . This isn’t real . . .
For the second time since dawn, Ruby waked from a dream. She said nothing as Mack pulled the robe from her shoulders, and remained silent as he took a dress from the closet and pulled it over her head. She did not object that it was wrong for the season. Or that her hair had not been done in three days. Or that her grown son was looking at his own mother, half naked. Nor did she complain when he led her from the room as a father would lead a child. Why should she?
I’ll wake up, she told herself. I’ll wake up soon enough . . .
*****
The crisp November air cleared Ruby’s head. She stared at the slick advertisement showing the gated community in McAlester and tried to focus on what Mack was saying. But her mind wandered—from her father and the mysterious fits that had come on him, to her mother and her disappearance, to Bill and Jack and four dead men, to this colored piece of paper.
“It’s too much,” she said. It’s just too much.”
“I can swing it,” Mack said. “If I can get enough out of the old place, I can just about swing it.”
“I’m not talking about this.” Ruby held up the marketing brochure. “I mean this thing with Pa. What am I supposed to say? Hi Grover, it’s Grace, I’m back from the dead and thought I’d drop in to see you for a bit. By the way, why did you black my eye and knock me senseless all those years ago? I mean, they’d put me in Vinita for sure, I did something like that.” She felt her face flush as Mack started to laugh. “This isn’t funny, Mack Barlow!”
“I know it’s not.” Mack snorted a last time, then sobered “Just lay it on the line, Mama. There’s no time for double-talk that would just confuse him more. Tell him you’re Grace and you want him to tell you about the war.” He pulled a photo from his pocket. “And take this photo, see if these men are the ones on the phone book.”
“It’s deceitful,” Ruby said, tucking the picture into her purse. “And you think the nurses are going to let me waltz in looking like this? Why, they’re liable to put me away, wearing this hat and coat. I can’t believe Sister hung onto this stuff all these years.” She bent her nose to the coat’s lapel. “I smell like mothballs—and I never wear this much makeup.” She turned to Mack as he started to laugh again and repeated, “It’s not funny, Mack!”
“I know.”
“And my customers, I had three appointments today.”
“Not a problem. Sister’s calling them.”
Ruby folded her arms across her stomach, then pulled the coat together in an attempt to button it. “I’m fatter than Sister. Her clothes never did fit me. I feel ridiculous. And I’m gonna lose every one of my customers because of this nonsense. First Tootsie Turner and now—”
“All that’s not important. Anyhow, it’s time you gave up being a kitchen beautician.”
“Kitchen beautician . . .” Ruby felt as though she’d been slapped. “Are you ashamed of how I make a living?”
Mack sighed. “That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just time you stopped working so hard.”
“It kept food on the table and clothes on our backs for many a year!”
“Would you just take a look at that brochure, Mama? At the fun things to do there?”
“I can’t think about this right now.” She slid the colored brochures back inside the manila envelope and pitched it to the back seat. “And I can’t believe you kept this from me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that, but sooner or later, we have to talk. I’ve got a deal in the works.”
“I can’t, not right now. Besides which, we’re here.”
Mack parked near the entrance of the nursing home and Ruby walked with him to the front door. “Oh Lord,” she whispered as Mack rang the buzzer, “I can’t do this.”
“Yes ma’am, you can.”
Again, Ruby was not given a choice. Mack guided her down the hall as though she were a missile that could not slow down or it would be blown from the sky. She focused her eyes on the floor so she would not have to look at the people sitting on either side and did not breathe until she reached her father’s room.
“Hold on a minute,” Mack said, “I’ll clear the way.” A minute later, he rolled Henry Carter out of the room in a wheelchair. “I’ll take Henry to the rec room. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have privacy for as long as you need it.”
Don’t worry . . .? Ruby watched as Mack and Henry Carter disappeared down the hall, sure that a million seconds passed as she stood there. I cannot do this, she thought. It’s not right—it’s insane! She turned to leave, wondering why she had allowed herself to get into such a predicament.
You’re doing it because your father is dying and needs to find peace before he passes over . . .
Hearing the voice, Ruby’s feet rooted to the floor. She looked to see if Mack had returned, if he had read her thoughts and was talking to her. He hadn’t.
“God help, she thought, now I’m hearing things. Fearful the voice would return to chastise her again, Ruby uprooted her feet. She walked into the room and sat next to her father, and with sincerity in her heart if not on her person, she began to speak.
“It’s me, Grover. It’s Grace. You never told me about the war, and I’d like to hear about it.”
She listened for two hours.
