Four of a Kind: A women's historical fiction

by Russell, Vanessa

  I walked home on air, fingers gently touching my lips ever so often, my other hand holding the wild flowers. In my mind’s eye, he’s still here.

  “Here, Ruby, before you go,” and he had walked behind the line of trees to the open meadow beyond the park and picked the indigo and coneflower, tied them with the leather string from his hair, and walked back to me with his broad grin, his hair falling forward, touching his shoulders. “My gift to you for a most pleasant lunch. Best cornbread this side of the Blue Ridge. Are you sure I can’t give you a ride home – at least part-way?”

  I longed to say yes, to not say goodbye, but I would be traveling along the same street that Robert would be taking and it was crucial I reach home before him. But I hope to be here tomorrow afternoon, I said – to help with petition signatures of course.

  I wondered how I would fill up my time before then. The evening, the long dark night and then the morning, it would take an eternity before I could walk back to the park. I decided to prepare him a linen sachet of my lavender flower blossoms.

  I opened my front door to the smell of smoke. A piping of this was coming from the kitchen. I could hear Bess scold and Pearl cry out, the boys yell. I ran to the kitchen to see Bess throwing a bowl of water onto the stove, flames licking their way out from under the round inserts for pots, the lids red-hot.

  “My God, what—” Fire caught onto Bess’s sleeve and spread up her arm. I screamed, “More water!” as I jerked her to the water pump, pumping frantically with one hand and smacking her arm with the other., and splashed the little remaining water on her. It didn’t completely go out and I smacked Bess’s upper arm to put the flame out on her dress sleeve. Bess screamed so loud that the boys hushed and stood terrified. Water took an eternity to come through and out it out for good.

  “Hush, Bess, it’s gone now, Mama got it all, darling. You’re a brave girl.” I saw the bubbled skin under the charred sleeve and began to cry. “Mama is so sorry, Bess, Mama is so sorry! I should’ve been here, I’m not a good mommy, no!”

  Aimee ran in from the back door. “I heard the screaming.”

  I ripped the sleeve open more, to give more air to the burns. “I think Bess needs some salve, Aimee,” I said as calmly as possible. “Could you run get Doctor Hughes?”

  “Can you walk upstairs, darling?” I asked Bess. She was sobbing but no longer hysterical. “I need to take this dress off.” Bess nodded and we exited the kitchen in small steps and headed through the parlor toward the stairs.

  I looked behind me; the boys and Pearl were following closely, mute, coughing, their eyes wide, red and wet. “Bess will be fine. You go outside now and get some fresh air, away from this smoke. You can come up and see her in a little while.”

  I looked down and almost stepped on a small bunch of wild flowers tied with a leather string. Fresh tears came as I stepped over them and I walked Bess bit by bit up the stairs.

  I sat outside on the front verandah, my rocker creaking with each push, taking in deep breaths of fresh air. After a fitful night and a strong powdered heroin elixir, Bess was sleeping again. Robert had left earlier than usual that morning without disturbing me sleeping with Bess, another day’s reprieve. Aimee had come over later in the morning with bread, cheese, and roast beef. I’d sent the other children off to the creek with a picnic. I simply couldn’t cope with them.

  Aimee had offered to take my place at the petition booth so what could I say, but yes, thank-you? And off she went … toward town, her footsteps on the boardwalk fading ...

  My last chance to see him ... fading.

  I clutched the arms of my chair to keep from running after her, my bandaged fingers stinging in protest.

  Back and forth the rocker creaked his name. Each creak amplified the sound of my heart slowly breaking. He’s was so close and yet ... fading.

  After today he would be gone forever and I hadn’t said goodbye. Or said come back and visit us in a light airy way. Or keep in touch. Or I love ... I had so much to say and yet could say nothing. These balusters might as well be my prison bars. I reached inside my apron pocket, found the leather tie and once more held it between my fingers, searching for solace there.

  I looked up at the blue sky. So blue...I’m feeling blue without you, blue eyes...oooh, a whole new meaning to ‘out of the blue’. I listened to the quiet around me and to the steady clip-clop of a distant horse. Like a school girl, I closed my eyes and imagined his lips on mine – oh to be kissed on your mouth so completely! Our lips were pressed like two pie crusts sealed together, the cracks no longer there, to make the perfect pie. I licked my lips for the sweet taste.

  From the sound of it, the horse was coming closer. I opened my left eye to the street and a man on a horse came into my vision. He was two houses down, peering closely at each house he passed. He turned his head from side to side - I opened both eyes wide – he had a pony tail! My heart flew into my throat and I sat unmoving, watching in disbelief. And then I was up and running, down the stairs and down the boardwalk. I stopped dead in my tracks in front of my other next door neighbor’s house, one hand at my throat to soothe the throbbing there.

  What am I thinking of doing – throw myself into his open arms?

  I bounced on my toes to keep me in place and instead threw my best smile as his horse approached and he drew back on his reins. He looked down at me, giving me his own, the sun shining blue tones to his black hair. We simply gazed at each other, me not quite believing he was really here. The horse shook its head and snorted and this brought me out of my trance. I stepped down from the boardwalk onto the cobbled street and patted the horse’s neck. This was as close as I dared get, my hand longing to touch his boot, but touching the horse made me somehow feel closer to him, as if touching an indirect part of him.

  “I came as soon as I heard.” He motioned to my bandaged hand. “Aimee told me what happened when I asked where you were. I know I shouldn’t be here, but—”

  I looked up into his eyes and the neighbors disappeared. “I am happy you are here.”

  He swung down from his horse in one powerful movement and I suddenly found myself face to face with him. There was not enough air between us to breathe.

  Touching my bandaged hand lightly, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

  I glanced at it, not quite remembering why it was bandaged. “Not anymore.”

  He grinned broadly at me and I let out a soft laughter that felt so good. There had been nothing but pain since I had left him at the park yesterday, and now the pain was all gone. I had the urge to grab his hand and run through the fields beyond the houses; run with our hair blowing freely behind our backs. Running ... freely …

  “Your daughter? How is she?”

  “Much better, thank you. It will take time for her to heal, but heal she will. May I - may I invite you to join me on the verandah? I can make a cool drink – I think I have some lemons and there should be some ice left in the ice box—”

  “I don’t think that would be proper,” he broke in, but he wasn’t glancing around at neighbors’ windows. His eyes didn’t leave my face. It looked as if he was trying to memorize my features. “I’m not here to cause problems for you, Ruby. You have children; you would have to make explanations. You might have to lie and that would only make something ugly out of something beautiful. That is how I will remember you – something beautiful.” He took in a jagged breath. “We didn’t say goodbye yesterday, and I can’t leave without it. I can’t explain it.” He reached out to touch my cheek but then having second thoughts, quickly withdrew his finger. “And I know, to be the proper gentleman, I should apologize.”

  He leaned his arm against the saddle and looked beyond me, his eyelids drooping heavily ... dreamily. I loved that look about him. Into my memory, I etched and branded every line of his face, shoulders, his arm against the saddle, the deep reds and greens of the horse blanket underneath, his white linen shirt, his chest moving with each breath.

  “There is no need to apologiz
e,” I said softly to his lips. I hardly sounded like myself, and yet I felt more like myself than ever before.

  “It felt so right, didn’t it Ruby?” He said, encouraged by my words, my tone. He tilted his head down and studied me earnestly.

  “It did, Jeremiah.” I felt a surge of happy blush in saying his name.

  “I love it when your eyes shine like that,” he said. “No wonder you were named Ruby – you glow like a gem. You ever been told that before?”

  “No, but then I’ve never felt like this before.” I felt out of breath; as if we had in fact ran through the fields and only just now paused.

  “I made something for you.” He turned to his saddlebag, unbuckled the flap, and brought out something hidden in his large hand. He opened his palm to me. A wooden carving of a dove sat there looking at me. Its head was smooth and round, its feathers carved in careful detail.

  “Mommy believed that when a dove rested at your home, it brought love and peace. That is what I bring to you.”

  I picked the dove up carefully, as if grabbing it might startle it into flight. “I will treasure this always, Jeremiah. I wish I had something for you.”

  “Yesterday was the best gift you could give me, Ruby. I can understand what a sacrifice it must have been, to be there. I’ll never forget it, or you.”

  “Jeremiah, how can I say goodbye?” My vision blurred and I looked back down at my dove, wishing my heart were made of this wood.

  “This can’t be goodbye forever, Ruby. Let’s think of it that way. I can’t stand the thought of it.” He patted the horse’s side as if it had just given him an idea. “I know what I can do. I’ll come back through on my way home from New York City. I don’t know how long it will be but when I do, do you think, Ruby, that maybe we could meet again in the park? We could just talk – there’s nothing wrong with that, now is it?”

  “I would love to sit again and talk with you, Jeremiah. That would be wonderful!” I felt a tremendous relief at not having to face forever. “This is not goodbye then. What a horrible word! Let us just say, what was it your mama used to say, win-na-de...”

  “...ya-ho,” he finished. “Win-na-de-ya-ho.”

  “Thank you for this day,” we said together.

  “I love you,” I whispered to the dove and gave it a small kiss on its tiny beak. I laid it back in my lap and continued rocking. I looked down the street to where he had, only hours before, tipped his hat to me, mounted his horse, and rode away. I had watched until he had disappeared. I continued to watch now, as if he would magically appear again. Why not? Wasn’t the last appearance only a dream? No, I had his dove, real and mine. I clasped it to my heart and rocked some more. I heard the distant clip-clop of a horse. I sat up straight, intensely squinting toward the sound.

  Finally I sat back, weighted down by disappointment. Buggy wheels, too, not just a horse. I watched, disinterested, as Aimee stepped down from Eunice’s buggy and Eunice waved and rode on. She joined me on the verandah.

  “You’re still here rocking away!” she said. “Goodness, it is terribly warm today!” She waved away my offer for a cold drink. “I shouldn’t be here,” she answered. “But first I must tell you what all happened today.” She opened a folded fan from her handbag and waved it front of her face, her strayed blond hair in frizzy curls moving slightly in the hand-made breeze. “First I must apologize. Mr. Jeremiah Bluemountain showed so much concern for your accident, I felt I had no choice but to give him your address. When he left in such a hurry, I grew concerned that it may not have been the appropriate thing to do.”

  I saw curiosity, not concern, in Aimee’s expression. I didn’t blame Aimee for wondering. I tried desperately not to blush, as I said as off-handed as was humanly possible, “No need to apologize, Aimee.” I wished to hear more about him; just hearing his name was exciting. My mind scrambled to think of another question about him. “So, why was he there?”

  “You tell me,” Aimee answered, shrugging. “He arrived shortly after I did, and quite honestly, from a distance I thought he was stalking something, the way he was watching, hunting for ... I don’t know. Maybe it is because he looks so...Indian. I was uneasy until I recognized him from the convention and remembered he did a good job speaking on our behalf. It’s so terribly unfortunate you couldn’t have stayed. That preacher–”

  “I don’t wish to discuss that. Please continue about the Indian.”

  “Well, then Eunice told me about how you and he had rebuilt the broken booth - another tragedy, really, why such hostility? Anyway, she said Mr. Bluemountain was very kind to do so in the spare time he has waiting to escort Mrs. Catt to New York City. You should know that Mrs. Catt has been holed up in Cady’s home ever since the convention. Cady collapsed that evening and hasn’t been out of the house since, so Mrs. Catt stayed a little longer than planned to keep Cady company. We must pray for Cady. Where was I? Oh, yes, well, when Mr. Bluemountain approached me, asking for your whereabouts, and well, I know I shouldn’t say this but,” she leaned toward me and murmured, “I was quite taken back by him. He has very nice eyes and a soft accent – he must be from the south somewhere.”

  She became quiet for a moment, curling a strand of blond hair around her finger. “So, did he?”

  I flinched slightly in spite of my apparent calm. “Did he what?”

  “Did he come by?”

  “Oh Aimee, I just feel terribly guilty about the whole thing!” I blurted out. I had to tell someone what nagged at my heart - but not so foolish to tell everything in my heart. Although what I said was foolish enough.

  “Guilty? Why?”

  “Because if I hadn’t been there building that booth with Jeremiah, fighting for women’s rights and all, Bess would not have been here alone, fighting for her life!”

  Aimee stopped twirling her hair and she sat up straight. “Bess is fighting for her life?” She glanced in the parlor window.

  “No, not now. She is much better. But it is my fault she is burned in the first place, and if I hadn’t returned home when I did, well I shudder to think.”

  “You think it is your fault because you weren’t home? Oh, come on, Ruby, accidents happen! And you can’t go on blaming yourself when … ” She stopped when she saw Robert coming up the steps.

  I hadn’t seen him coming either, so absorbed I was under my blanket of shame.

  He nodded toward Aimee. “Good day,” he said coldly. He gave me the same cold expression. “Ruby, did I hear correctly that you weren’t home yesterday?”

  Aimee jumped up, patting around her skirts as if she had a bee under there. “Well, I must go. Good day, Robert, good day, Ruby.” She ran toward home.

  Robert’s eyes hadn’t left mine. “Ruby?”

  I raised from my chair slowly and faced him, my judge and jury.

  “Yes, Robert, I was not home during the afternoon.”

  “This has gone on long enough, Ruby. Get inside and go upstairs now.”

  “It is supper-time, Robert, and I must feed the children.”

  “How are you going to cook with a burnt hand, Ruby?” His tone bit accusingly.

  “Aimee kindly brought over some food.”

  “Then place it on the table, and go to your room. I’ll ensure the boys eat.” He followed me inside. “Take some food up to Bess, first.”

  I obeyed, praying he did not make a scene in front of the boys, or raise his voice to where Bess could hear.

  I sat with Bess and Pearl on their bed, nibbling off our plates, and remained there like a coward until evening darkened the window. I couldn’t insist that Pearl sleep on blankets on the floor while I slept with Bess yet another night. When I heard the boys come up for bed, I decided to face my foe. I opened the door and answered back to the boys’ goodnights, blowing them kisses. Robert stood at our bedroom door. He snapped his fingers and jerked his thumb to that dark place. Yet, I refused to scurry to him like a scared rabbit! I held up a finger for him to wait a moment and turned to the girls’ bed and ki
ssed them goodnight. I was determined to have a civil conversation with my husband.

  I entered and he closed the door behind me. He slapped my face so hard that I saw spots. I put my hand over my mouth to silence my cry. He slapped my other cheek, harder this time and I tasted blood. I raised my hand to block a third strike and he grabbed my wrist and pulled my arm behind my back. There were no words; only heavy breathing and choked sobs. He pushed me onto the bed and fell on top of my back, smothering me deep into the feather mattress.

  “No more, do you understand me?” he growled into my ear. “No more or I will surely beat the living hell out of you!” He jerked hard at his handful of hair at the nape of my neck. “Do. You. Understand. Me.”

  “Yes!” came my muffled cry. I could not breathe and kicked my legs in panic. He lifted himself off and I raised my head to breathe in air. Blood dropped off my chin onto the white chenille bedspread. I clamped my bandaged hand to my mouth and ran over to the washbowl. The bandage was turning red. I poured some water from the pitcher into the bowl.

  Robert stopped pacing and watched me in the mirror over the bowl. “My God, you are bleeding,” he said. He joined me at the washbowl and grabbed a washcloth. He clutched my chin, causing me to recoil.

  “Hold still,” he muttered. He dipped the wash cloth into the water and roughly wiped. “The inside of your lip is cut.” I winced with pain and drew back. “Hold still, I said!” He continued to wipe but more gently now. He poured water into a glass. “Rinse.” I obeyed and spit red into the bowl. He turned my shoulders to face him and wiped some more. “I want you to listen to me, Ruby. And listen good.”