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Ruby sat across the kitchen table from Sister, staring at the newspaper clipping that told of her mother’s death. “I can’t believe we never heard of this.”
“Speaks to the respect people had for Pa, doesn’t it.”
“How you figure that?” Ruby asked, frowning.
“People tend to enjoy rubbing salt into the wounds of those they don’t like. No one ever said a word about this, least none I heard. Says a lot about the man, to my thinking.”
Why, that makes sense, Ruby thought. Why didn’t I see it that way? “Well, one thing for sure,” she said. “No way we’re taking him off life support. He lived life his way, he’ll leave it the same way.”
Sister nodded, then indicated the article again. “Says here, Grace was struck by that bus up close to Tulsa. You figure she was going back to Georgia?” Sister scratched the mole on her arm absentmindedly. “How you suppose she got up there, middle of the night?”
“Middle of the night?” Ruby reread the clipping. “Oh, I see what you mean. That’s why that bus driver didn’t see her. You think Pa drove her up there?”
“Can you see Pa giving anyone a hundred-dollar bill and leaving them on the side of the highway like that?”
Ruby ran her hands through her hair. “You’re right,” she mumbled. “You’re right. Then who . . .? Oh, Lord.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figure. Only person I know that’d have a hundred-dollar bill in her pocketbook would be Tootsie Turner.”
“Oh, Lord,” Ruby mumbled again. “It’s just too much to deal with.”
Sister walked to the stove. “Well, you don’t have a choice because we’re gonna be burying Pa here pretty quick.” She set the teapot on to boil and took two mugs from the cabinet.
“That might be so, but he’s gonna live and die on his own terms. We are not taking him off life support.”
Sister measured cocoa mix into the mugs and filled them with water as the teapot began to spew. “I figure Nonny makes a good point about Grace’s grave being a good sign.” She carried the cocoa to the table.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we can bury Pa next to Grace, just like he wanted.”
“Next to Grace? Pa talked about being buried next to Bill and Jack, not her!” Ruby hesitated. “You think that’s what he would’ve wanted?”
“Why do you think he wanted Grace to forgive him? Of course, he’d want to be buried next to her. And Bill and Jack’s there, so it’ll all work out just the way he wanted.” Sister walked to the pantry, pulled out a bag of miniature marshmallows, and shook some in her cup. “Want some?” she asked, looked at Ruby.
“I better not.” Ruby watched her weight closely. Women in the beauty profession needed to maintain their looks, keep up a professional appearance.
Professional appearance . . .
Ruby looked around the kitchen at the beauty paraphernalia she had accumulated over the years, then at the framed documents on the wall. She had considered her livelihood a profession once, but that was before her son had labeled her a “kitchen beautician” and her best customer turned out to be a fraud. Had all her customers come to her out of pity?
“Oh, why not,” she said, holding out her cup so Sister could shake marshmallows into it. She used her spoon to sink them, waiting for them to melt. “So you think there’s a chance the Turners will give us permission to bury Pa there?”
Sister sipped cocoa with a spoon. “Question is, what if they won’t?”
“Lord have mercy, it’s just too much.” Ruby gave her hair another tousle.
“Pa ever own anything but that double barrel in the pantry?” Sister said.
Ruby stared at her a minute. “Not to my knowledge. Why?”
“Those slugs Mack found.”
Ruby drew a quick breath. “Hunters, Sister. Those slugs were put there by hunters. Back in the old days, people hunted squirrel and rabbit for the table. Lord knows, we ate our share. And nowadays, city folks like to pretend they’re hunters. We called the sheriff out a couple of times ourselves to chase trespassers off our land—Mack’s land. If it was my land, we wouldn’t be leaving it.” Suddenly Ruby crossed her arms on the tabletop and lowered her head into them.
“Oh, straighten up, Ruby. Mack thinks he’s doing the right thing by us, and who’s to say he isn’t. Speaking of which, what did Mack say about that realtor that called tonight? You think the place is sold already? I figure that’s why she wanted to meet up with him so bad. Good thing we don’t have a lot to pack up. Least I don’t, you got all this beauty shop stuff . . .”
Ruby raised her head. “Sister, would you please stop your rattling? I just can’t deal with all this! Why has all this has been dumped on me right now? I’ve done things by the book all my life. It just isn’t fair.” She cupped her face in her hands as deep uncontrollable sobs shook her body.
“Why, Ruby, no need for that.” Sister shoved a box of Kleenex across the table.
“I’m sorry Sister. I just feel like I want to spit on someone. Or yell. Or cuss, cuss till I’m blue in the face.”
“Well then, go ahead.” Sister scratched at the mole on her arm again. “Get it out of your system if it’ll make you feel better. Better than letting yourself come apart at the seams. I’ve let loose many a time.”
“You have?” Ruby blew her nose. “When? I never heard you say a bad word in my life?”
“Out in the yard there.” Sister pointed toward the back door. “I wouldn’t be traipsing about in the dark right now, though. Could break a hip. Best stay on the porch.”
“I couldn’t . . .”
“I don’t figure you’d say anything I hadn’t heard before, so cut loose.”
“I shouldn’t . . .”
Go,” Sister said, pointing at the door.
Ruby pushed her chair back slowly and glanced over her shoulder as she exited the room. “I feel stupid.”
“You’d be surprised how much better you’ll feel after a good bout of swearing.”
Outside on the stoop, Ruby looked at a November sky that was so cold, earthly emissions hung like a shroud. The Milky Way was a pale ladder leading to a paler Heaven, casting an aura over the land. Even the night creatures talked among themselves timidly.
“Hell,” she whispered.
“That’s the puniest Hell I ever heard,” Sister snorted from the kitchen. “You know what Pa used to say: If you’re gonna do something, do it right—”
“Hell . . . damn . . . damn them all to a living hell . . .” Ruby paused, searching her mind for more blasphemies she could utter against those that had wronged her. Finding her blasphemy vocabulary limited, she repeated the same diatribe, word for word, twice more.
She stood breathless once she had used herself up, listening to her voice fade into the night, and waiting. She knew not what she waited for. Some sign, perhaps. Some indication that she had not just damned her own soul to everlasting hell. Some sense that her world had returned to a natural order, to predictable human activity. As the minutes passed, she openly received the late night benediction of frogs and crickets, inhaled the wet pungent smells of rotting leaves in the creek, noticed a ring around the moon that promised rain. Even now, she could feel moisture in the air, soothing as a balm.
Rain is good, she thought. It heals a drought, sets things right again. She returned to the kitchen, feeling subdued.
“You let go of your angst now?”
Ruby did not even question where Sister had come up with the latest term. She just rubbed her hand across her chest and said, “I believe I do feel some better. Yes, no question about it.”
“Good, now let’s get down to business. You think we got enough to blackmail Tootsie Turner into selling us Beulah Land to us?”
“What—?”
“Well, the way I figure it, Pa didn’t drive Grace up to that bus stop, and he sure didn’t keep hundred-dollar bills lying around. And, he never owned anything but a shotgun in his life. Those slugs Mack found came from a different gun. I don’t know about you, but I’m not inclined to go begging the Turners to allow us to bury Pa on something that was rightfully his to begin with. I figure we can swing a thousand dollars between us, give them back just what they paid for it. I got half. You got the other half?”
“Why yes, I have the other half.” Headlights raked across the porch. “Mack’s home . . . Oh no, you suppose he sold the place?” They waited in silence for the door to open.
“Well,” Sister said when Mack walked into the kitchen. “What’s the scoop? Do we to start packing?”
“We got an offer . . .”
“You got an offer,” Ruby said. “Not we. You’re the one—”
“Shut up, Ruby,” Sister snapped. “Give the boy a chance to settle down.”
If Mack heard his mother’s remark, he did not let it show. Given he was pacing the length of the kitchen non-stop, in all likelihood he did not hear her at all. Sister finally called him to a halt.
“You’re pacing like a beetle on a hot rock. Tell us what that realtor wanted. Must’ve been important to call you out at night.”
“Not much to tell.” Mack walked to the refrigerator, pulled out a beer, and popped the cap. “They met the asking price.”
“Does that surprise you?” Sister said. “You act surprised.”
“It does at that. I mean, who the hell doesn’t come back with a counter offer these days? Hell, wish I’d asked for more now.”
“Who?” Sister asked. “Who bought it? Was it horse people like you wanted?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Everything’s being handled by an attorney.”
“When?” Ruby asked. “How much time we got.”
“Buyer wants to close in a couple of weeks, but said we could live here till the duplex is finished.” He started pacing again. “I need to push on that builder there at that gated community. He’s gonna have to move faster.”
“Maybe he’ll hire you to help him out,” Sister said.
Mack paused. “Well now, that’s a thought.”
Ruby glared at Sister, feeling an impulse to ring her neck, but she focused on Mack instead. “What about your job in Texas? Can you hang around here that long? You could risk losing your job.”
He considered the comment, then shook his head. “Got no choice. I’ll call and check in tomorrow, see if the guy I work for’s got anything lined up yet. Oh . . .” He looked between them. “You know of anyone that might be interested in buying the other side of that duplex, someone you wouldn’t mind living next to?”
Ruby exchanged a glance with Sister. “I don’t know of a single solitary soul that would want to move into town.”
“Me neither,” Sister said.
“Well, think on it. I’m gonna turn in, need some rack time bad. Can’t believe you two are still up. Why are you still up?” Without waiting for an answer, Mack left the room mumbling, “Maybe I will look at helping out with that duplex. Could make sure it’s done right that way.”
Ruby sat staring at nothing after Mack left the room. She broke the stare a few minutes later when Sister rose from her chair and pulled a bottle of brandy from the pantry. She watched wordlessly as the bottle and two juice glasses were set on the table.
“Don’t know about you, but I think I’ll make mine a double tonight.”
“I can’t believe you actually suggested he help that builder.” Ruby watched Sister measure brandy into one of the glasses.
“Spoke before I thought.”
“Why didn’t you tell him how you really felt?”
Sister looked at Ruby over the top of her trifocals. “That’s your job. Your son, your job. I’m just hitching a ride.” She held up the empty glass. “You?”
“Double up.” Ruby took the glass from Sister. “So let’s talk some more about this blackmailing business. How you see that working?”
Sister spoke without hesitation. “Work on Tootsie’s guilty conscience, let her know we figured out the reason for the big tips, how they had something to do with Grace. Then bring up the hundred-dollar bill and the bus, how Grace would’ve got to Tulsa. And those slugs in the doubletree sure didn’t come out of that scattergun there in the closet.”
“Yeah.” Ruby sipped her brandy. “Pa probably had the shotgun with him in the fields, now I think about it.”
“In case he ran onto a rattler or badger. Pays to keep a gun handy out there in those fields.”
Ruby looked toward the pantry door, which stood ajar. The old shotgun in the corner drew her eyes like a magnet. “Pays to keep a gun handy other places than the fields,” she murmured.
