Dove raised her eyebrows and Ruby shrugged. She shoved her hair out of her face.
"You know what, Dove?"
"What?"
"You're a good friend."
Dove squinted into the late-afternoon sun. "Yes," she said thoughtfully. "I am."
Dove walked away and Ruby lingered, waving to the few cars that came rattling across the bridge. Soon she realized she didn't know how to leave. She didn't know what to do with her flowers. She should say something. She looked into the lake again. "You would have come home. You always came home." She untied the twine around her flowers. One by one, she tossed black-eyed Susans onto the lake. With each flower she remembered one good thing about her grandfather. "Good-bye, Grandpa Garnet," she whispered. "Good-bye."
She felt the tears coming, but she stopped them by gritting her teeth until her jaws hurt. She picked up her floppy hat and put it back on her head. She heard footsteps behind her, coming onto the bridge, coming toward her. Dove coming back to check on her. Dove wanting to make sure it was okay that she'd left her friend at the bridge.
Ruby hitched up her left overalls strap and turned. "I'm fine," she said, and almost choked on the words. It wasn't Dove standing in front of her. It was Melba Jane.
22
Ruby's legs felt like jelly under her. They wobbled, and she sat down hard, her back against the bridge railing. Melba stood there, a puzzled look on her face, as if trying to make up her mind, then she sat down next to Ruby. She was wearing a long brown wig, an enormous black hat, and purple gloves. When she sat down, her sundress covered her legs, knees to ankles. Her toes peeked out from under it, from where they were nestled in delicate white sandals. Ruby raised a dusty big toe and tried to think about what to do next. Get up? Run away? Spit on Melba? Nothing seemed quite right. Her hands shook in her lap. She opened them wide and clutched her kneecaps. The lake made a lapping sound below them, where the water met the shore.
Melba broke the silence. "I wanted to talk to you..." She smoothed her dress down her legs to her ankles.
Ruby's head throbbed. She squeezed her knees with her hands.
Melba sucked in a breath. "I know you threw away my note. I want—"
"Stop, Melba. Just stop." Ruby scooted away from Melba. "I don't care what you want."
"I want to apologize." Melba's voice had a hollow sound to it.
"You can't. I won't let you." Now Ruby stood and faced Melba. "I don't want to hear it. You killed my chicks."
Melba's face was hidden under the brim of her hat as Ruby stood over her. Her gloved hands were folded quietly in her lap, and she gave a little shudder. Ruby felt a stab of triumph, and it carried her along on a wave of anger. "I don't care what you have to say, you can't bring them back. I don't care what you say from now on about anything! My grandpa would have come home last summer, no matter what. He always came home. Say whatever you want! Tell everybody! I'm not afraid of you anymore."
Ruby's face flushed and her throat was on fire. She leaned toward Melba, so angry she was shaking. With her fìnger she jabbed Melba hard on the shoulder. "It's your turn, Melba Jane. I'm going to tell everybody in this town just what a rotten person you are, just how mean you are, how hateful. How you wanted me to believe it was my fault that my grandpa died, that your daddy died, that the whole accident happened! Maybe I'll just come to the operetta after all and tell everybody tonight! I could tell the whole town while you were standing right there on the stage with me!"
Ruby's throat had closed up, and she had to squeeze the last few words out. She stopped and took a deep breath and swallowed. "Then I'm going to tell them how my chicks died. And I'm going to make sure they know that it was all your fault. You killed them, Melba Jane. And I will never forget it."
For a moment neither girl moved and there was no sound, just the echo of Ruby's words hanging in the air above them. Then the summer noises returned, and Ruby stood up straight to collect herself. She felt light-headed. Melba kept her head down, her face still hidden by the brim of her hat.
Then she spoke. "Yes, I did." Her voice trembled. "I did. Mama says..." She didn't finish the sentence. She ¡reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, then removed her gloves, pulling slowly on each fìnger. Ruby watched her.
"You know what I wonder about?" Melba asked. Ruby's stomach did a flutter as she saw that Melba had calluses on her palms. "I wonder if my daddy was scared that night." Melba clutched her gloves. "I wonder if he was awake. And if he was, did he think about me? I wonder about that."
Ruby wouldn't hear this, wouldn't think about this. "Go away, Melba Jane!"
Now Melba had the handkerchief in her hand, dabbing at the sweat collecting on her forehead and around her ears, dripping from the wig. Then she stood, tucked her handkerchief into her dress pocket, and walked to the opposite side of the bridge. An old pickup truck clattered over it, slowed, but did not stop. Melba stared at the lake where the sun sparkled low and golden on the water. "I miss my daddy."
A numbness spread through Ruby. She stood as still as she could, willing Melba Jane to go away.
And she did. Melba's sandals tapped across the bridge as she walked toward the schoolhouse.
23
The moon rose in a dusky blue sky. It wouldn't be dark yet for close to an hour, but in summer the eight o'clock light of evening was the best. Ruby had come home to an empty house—her mother was helping with the punch and cookies to be served after the operetta and had left Ruby a note: "Big salad in fridge! Eat up! Come watch! Love you!" Now, out in the greenhouse, Ruby read some "P" words to Bemmie, who clucked like a happy fool on her nest. She could hear faint peeping from Bemmie's one egg. Tonight would be the night, she was sure of it. It would take some time, several more hours probably, but by morning there would be a new chick.
She couldn't get Melba out of her head. She would go to the operetta. She wouldn't. Yes, she would. No, she wouldn't. No. Yes. No.
She couldn't concentrate. "Peony ... people ... pep ... pepper ... pepper-and-salt..." She sighed. "Pepper-and-salt" made her think "sweet and sour," which made her think "lemon drops," which made her think about her grandpa, which made her think about the lake and the bridge and Melba. All the fight was out of Melba—what was the matter with her? Ruby felt like she was just beginning to fight. It felt good to have the tables turned. She would go to the schoolhouse. Yes. No. She reached for Rosebud, who squawked out of her hands and hopped onto the dictionary, as if to say, Keep reading!
A breeze began to cool the hot day. It carried with it the sound of the Halleluia band playing in the schoolhouse. The operetta had begun. Her mama was there. The whole town was there, except her. And Miss Eula. Ruby hadn't had a letter from Miss Eula in over a week! Maybe she had decided to stay in Hawaii, after all, and was trying to find a way to tell Ruby the bad news. The thought made Ruby's stomach hurt. Oh, Miss Eula. Write to me, Ruby wished. She sent the wish out into the universe.
She stood up and dusted dirt and straw from her overalls and hitched up her left shoulder strap. She moved Rosebud off the dictionary and closed it. "Later, Rosie," she said. "Stay here and keep an eye on everything. I'm going for a walk. I'll be back soon." Ruby grabbed Miss Eula's straw hat—Dove had kept the other one. She put it on and stared at her reflection in the window. She knew where she was going, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself. She walked down the porch steps and into the sultry August night. She headed for the schoolhouse.
24
Ruby stepped through the early evening shadows, walking barefoot on a packed dirt road surrounded by wild roses and blackberry vines. Fireflies were just beginning to wink on and off. She didn't have the heart to catch one tonight. Ahead she could see the lights of the schoolhouse, like a beacon in the gathering dark.
The back door was propped open with a rock. Ruby slipped inside and crept up the backstage steps to the side-stage curtains. The chorus was singing "The Old Oaken Bucket," and Mrs. Varnado was playing the piano. Ruby peered through the
curtains into the auditorium. Every seat was filled.
Ruby spotted her mother sitting with Mr. Ishee. On the other side of Mr. Ishee was Melba Jane's mother. Her five other children were sprawled all over the aisle and hanging off seats on the edges of the rows. Ruby peeked onto the stage.
Old Ezra Jackson sat in a porch rocker, snoozing. Six more porch rockers held members of the chorus singing the end of their song. Dove was one of them. The porch was decorated with Chock full-o' Nuts coffee cans full of geraniums. Paintings were propped all over the "yard," like quilts on a line, the ugliest paintings Ruby had ever seen. Standing in front of the porch was Melba Jane. She was holding an oaken bucket, swinging it at her side and taking small, measured steps toward the front of the stage, where there was a crudely constructed well. It leaned to the right, and Ruby thought it might fall over if someone touched it. Melba wore a blue-checked dress, like Dorothy's dress in The Wizard of Oz. No ruby slippers. Her wig—not the same one she'd worn at the bridge—gave her a mass of wild ink-black hair that fell to her shoulders. With the wig and all the makeup she was wearing, she reminded Ruby of the Wicked Witch of the West wearing the wrong clothes.
As the chorus finished singing and Melba walked to the front of the stage, she passed underneath a papier-maché and construction-paper apple tree. The branches were laden with bright red apples that were fixed onto the branches with chicken wire. Melba was smiling—no, she was beaming. Ruby could see how being onstage, in front of her public, restored Melba, made her happier than just about anything, made her forget her troubles. It was how Ruby felt when she was with Miss Eula ... happier than just about anything.
Melba began her soliloquy. She spoke in a voice loud enough to peel paint. "How dear to my heart— dear dear dear to my heart—are the scenes of my childhood! Oh! How dear!"
"Oh, how putrid." Ruby didn't know if she could watch.
As Melba approached the well, she passed under the last branch of the apple tree. She hung the bucket on a peg at the well. She held out her arms, stood on her tiptoes, and did two complete whirl-arounds. She was about to sing.
But she never sang. A piece of chicken wire snagged at her long black wig. Melba kept whirling. The wire kept snagging. Apples fell to the stage, plop! plop! plop!—and as Melba Jane stopped her whirl, the apple tree wore a shiny black wig and Melba Jane Latham stood on the schoolhouse stage in front of the town of Halleluia, little wisps of hair on a bluish scalp, practically bald.
25
The audience gasped.
Ruby blinked. "Good garden of peas."
The wig dangled from the branch in the spotlight, several feet behind Melba Jane. All eyes were on the wig. On Melba. The wig. Even the chorus was speechless.
The only person who didn't notice what was happening was Mrs. Varnado, who was now plunking "Country Gardens" lightly on the piano, swaying back and forth, waiting for Melba Jane to start her soliloquy and then sing.
Ruby saw the look on Melba's face.... She was terrified. She was struggling to stay onstage, to stay standing. Ruby held her breath as Melba opened her mouth.
"As I was saying." Melba's voice was tiny. Her 177 hands trembled. But, actress that Melba so fiercely wanted to be, she did not move from her spot. "How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood!" Ruby thought she might be rallying. "I remember the days when..." She faltered. Her eyes filled with tears. She stood there. Motionless. No one spoke.
She'd forgotten her lines! Ruby licked her lips. Out in the audience, Melba's mother rose to her feet.
Melba began again but went in another direction. "I remember when my daddy..." Her voice was a croak.
A chill raced up Ruby's spine and across her shoulders. Without thinking, she strode out to Melba, taking giant steps. Melba jumped and stared at Ruby. Her eyes were as wide as half-dollars, and she was struck dumb. Not a word would come from her mouth. Ruby realized, with a crazy rush of bravado, that she was standing in front of the entire town of Halleluia, Mississippi, next to Melba Jane Latham, who was practically bald and totally mute. She glanced at Dove, sitting in a porch rocker with her mouth open.
Ruby turned to Melba Jane. The two girls' eyes met and they stared at each other. Ruby took a deep breath. "Your father!" she said. She gave Melba a say-something! look.
Melba's mother began walking toward the stage, but Ruby's mother reached for her. She put her hand gently on Leila Latham's arm as if to say, Wait...
Melba found her voice but not her lines. "My father?..." Her face crumbled.
"Yes," Ruby said slowly. "Yes, I remember him so well!" Melba blinked. How? How did Ruby remember him? She ¡said the first thing that came to her. "He taught you ... he taught you all the constellations, right?" Melba's mouth dropped open. Ruby's face flushed. "Did he teach you the firefly poem? My grandpa taught me that poem." Ruby took off Miss Eula's hat and in one smooth motion put it over Melba Jane's slightly blue head.
"Let's see if I can remember it." Ruby held out her hands and cupped in them an imaginary firefly. Then she held her cupped hands in front of her and recited the rhyme her grandfather had taught her long ago:
"Oh, Little One, Bright One,"
she said, in a clear, ringing voice.
"You are the first one, so you are the light.
You are the one we follow tonight.
Fly away now to your free life—so sweet!
We'll follow you with our true hearts till we meet
on the side of the shore, in the meadow so fair,
in the place where our souls soar into the air..."
Ruby parted her palms and lifted them upward. She imagined she could see a real firefly winking and flying into the darkening sky. She pointed in that direction. "Look! There's another one! Catch it quick, for good luck!" Ruby opened her eyes wide at Melba. "Go on," she said, her teeth clenched. "Grab it."
And Melba did. "I've got one!" she croaked, cupping her hands.
"Everybody find a firefly!", shouted Ruby. They did. The audience was on its feet, arms outstretched, and the chorus rushed to the front of the stage with Ruby and Melba Jane. They began crazily jumping and catching imaginary fireflies and holding them in their cupped hands. Ruby had no idea what to do next.
Mrs. Varnado, who had been prepared to play all of "Country Gardens," began playing "Glow, Little Glow-Worm." Melba, who had recovered herself some, let her imaginary glowworm/firefly go into the night, and so did the audience. Ruby hooked her arm in Melba's and danced her off the stage. Melba let herself be escorted. She left the wig where it was. Tot and Cleebo Wilson pulled the curtain closed. "Take a bow, everybody," said Tot. "Bless your hearts." The curtains opened again.
The auditorium erupted in applause.
26
Melba and Ruby stood backstage in the darkness, and Ruby began to feel awkward. It had all happened so fast. She shoved her hands in her overalls pockets. "They loved us."
Melba opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "Thanks."
The applause continued. Ruby pulled her hands out of her pockets. "They want you to take a bow."
Melba blinked back tears. "Want to come?"
Ruby shook her head. "I'm going home."
The audience called for Ruby and Melba. Ruby walked to the back door.
"Ruby, wait!"
"What?" Ruby turned her head and hitched up her left overalls strap.
Melba put a hand on her forehead and held it there. "I'm sorry about your chicks." Two tears rolled down her face.
Ruby's heart began a thump-thump in her chest. She pushed open the back door.
Melba took a step toward Ruby. "It was an accident." She wiped at her eyes.
Ruby stood half in, half out of the doorway. She listened to her heart as it thumped in her chest, just-wait, just-wait. She pulled at her earlobe and felt her pulse beating in her temples.
Melba wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I'm really so sorry, Ruby."
Ruby's shoulders fell and she took a slow breath. "I know i
t was an accident," she said.
Melba sniffed. "Yes."
Ruby chewed her lip and looked at Melba. "I'm sorry about your daddy."
Melba wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry about your grandpa."
Ruby thought a moment, then pushed her hair away from her face. "...And about your hair. And your blue head."
Melba blinked. Ruby shrugged.
Aunt Tot stuck her head through the side-stage curtains. "Hurry up, you two! Bless your hearts! Your public wants to bestow accolades upon you!" She popped her head back on the other side of the curtain. "Hold your ponies! They're still here, and they are coming]"
"I'll bring the hat back to you tomorrow," said Melba.
"Okay."
"I don't want to stay and visit."
"I don't want you to."
And with that, Ruby left Melba and the schoolhouse and stepped into the soft summer night. Rosebud was standing outside the door. "Rosebud! How did you get out?" Ruby picked her up and stroked her feathers. "Let's take a walk, girl."
She walked to town, taking her time. Rosebud clucked and strutted behind her in the moonlit dark, stopping to investigate every bug and bit of dust. Ruby waited for her. She gazed up at the starry sky. "We're under this same sky, Miss Eula, no matter where we are. I remember." Soon she was walking down her sandy lane behind the closed-up mercantile and the bank and the post office. There was the silver maple tree that was Miss Eula and Ruby's post office. It threw long shimmery shadows across the lane. She gave it a pat. It would be a long, long letter she'd have to write, to tell Miss Eula all that had happened on this day.
Rosebud squawked and Ruby bent down to pick her up. As she did, she saw something. There was a note in the knothole. Mail. It was pink.
Love, Ruby Lavender Page 10