“Are you going to die?”
He leaned forward and put his hand over mine—they were still laced together on the table and were beginning to sweat. “Ruby, don’t nobody know what God’s plans may hold. I can’t tell you when my time’s been appointed. But no matter what happens, you can trust God to take care of you.”
I guessed that was supposed to make me feel better, but all I could think about was that he didn’t really answer my question. Then Mother came through the door and went straight to the stove without a word. She checked the fire in it’s belly then stirred the great big pot on top. She wiped her hands on her apron and let out a long sigh that seemed to deflate her and slump her shoulders. Daddy stood and walked over behind her, limping on his right leg. He put his hands on Mother’s shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze.
She turned around and pointed a finger up at his face. “Abner Graves, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. I’ve told you time and time again about watching what you eat.”
He grabbed her finger and smiled. “And I have. We done the best we can. The rest is up to God.”
“How in God’s name are we supposed to pay for surgery?”
“Don’t worry, Lizzy. It’ll all be fine. It was a fine cotton season, and next year’s gonna be even better. Don’t worry about the money.”
He pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her back. She relaxed in his embrace, but then she noticed me watching them and turned back to the stove. I jumped up and grabbed the mop from the bucket, trying to rid my mind of the fear swirling around the edges. I focused all my thoughts on finishing my chores as quickly as possible so I could go to the game.
Basketball was just catching on in the more rural areas of Alabama, but our school in Hanceville had a pretty good team. We figured it was a good season if we beat Cullman more times than they beat us. That fall, we’d gotten beaten pretty bad in football, so everybody in the town was counting on the basketball team to lift our spirits. I liked it better than football. For one thing, I could play basketball. James and Henry had taught me how to shoot on a basket they’d nailed to the side of our barn. Even Daddy had helped me some, and I was pretty good too. But he drew the line there. When the boys had friends over, and they started playing real games, Daddy would insist I go help Mother in the house. But I sneaked out a few times, and I showed those boys that a girl can give as good as she gets if you give her half a chance.
We got to the gym early on account of Henry being on the team. James was already there waiting on us in the parking lot with a couple of his friends, including Emma Rae Calhoun. She was a senior, and she was sweet on James. He didn’t say so, but I could tell he was sweet on her too. He’d walk her for ice cream after church a couple of Sundays every month, and he made sure he was extra clean on those days.
He came over to us as we got to the front door. He put a hand on Daddy’s shoulder, and his eyebrows mashed together till his face turned almost identical to Daddy’s.
“You feeling all right?”
“I’m fine son.” Daddy pushed out his chest.
James didn’t look convinced. “If you ain’t feeling right, you need to stay home and rest. I can get Henry home. Besides, we’ll want to go out with some friends afterward anyhow.”
Daddy stopped walking and gave James that same look he’d given me at the table earlier, and James knew it as well as I did. Then Daddy looked over at the hopeful expression on Henry’s face and frowned.
“Said I’m fine. Now you go on with your friends. Henry’ll come home with us.”
Henry’s face fell, and James nodded before turning away. Daddy took a few more steps and called over his shoulder as we reached the door. “Make sure you’re home at a decent hour. I’ll need you to start mending that fence early tomorrow.”
“Yes sir,” James said.
We walked into the gym, and Henry headed straight for the court where some of the other boys on the team were already shooting around. Daddy and Mother took up their same spot as always, close to the floor near the middle of the court. The Doyles came in right after us, and they nodded at Mother and Daddy. They sat a few feet away. Their daughter, Mary, sat down behind them and glanced around. I smiled, and she managed a polite wave of her hand. Nothing that seemed particularly inviting. Mary was in my class, but she didn’t look like any eighth grader I’d ever seen, maybe cause she’d started school later than most. She was always so well put together, with hair that shone like everything when the sun hit it. She’d already caught the attention of a few high school boys, but not any that had the guts to talk to her in front of her parents. But then again, I didn’t know too many regular people that spoke to the Doyles.
Mother leaned toward me and nudged my side. “Why don’t you go say hello to some of your friends?”
“I’ll go later.” I’d long ago lost hope of getting Mother to understand my preference for solitude. I was a bean pole of a girl, with little interest in clothes or talking about boys. I spent most of my free time at school reading or daydreaming about the adventures I’d go on as soon as I was old enough to get out of this town. It wasn’t the best way to go about making friends, and the few times Mother had forced me into socializing, I’d only embarrassed myself.
But Mother was not one to give up easily. “At least make an effort to be friendly, Ruby. Your Daddy and I expect you to be polite.”
I looked over at Daddy knowing he wouldn’t care one way or the other if I said hello to girls I was barely acquainted with. He was already engrossed in watching Henry and the other boys go through some practice plays. I sighed and pushed myself off the bleacher, ignoring Mother’s satisfied smile. Mary already had a few more girls around her, so I knew this would be awkward. But if I got it over with quickly, maybe Mother would leave me alone the rest of the game. I put on a smile and climbed the three bleachers to the group of girls. Evelyn Brachman and Judy Carr went to Cullman, so I only knew them by reputation, but Era Calhoun was a ninth grader at Hanceville, and Emma Rae’s younger sister. All were from wealthier families in the county, and even though most of their parents seemed friendly enough with mine, they’d never seemed interested in being friends with me. I guess I couldn’t say I’d shown much interest in them either, if I was being fair about it anyway.
“Hello,” I managed. I forced my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t fidget with them.
Mary said hi, and so did Era, but the other two looked around like they were wondering who might be looking at them. I didn’t want to cause any of us any more embarrassment than necessary, but there was my mother to appease.
“Mind if I join y’all for a few minutes?”
Mary was the only one that really looked at me, and I was keenly aware of how plain I must seem to her. “Why sure, Ruby. Come sit by me.”
I had to admit, she seemed downright genuine about it. I decided to give it a shot, and maybe the other girls would warm up to me. As I took a seat the game started, so I did my best to follow along with the girls’ conversation while keeping up with the game. Before long they started going on and on about how handsome the players were. Henry made a nice shot near the goal, and we all stood to cheer. I couldn’t hide my shock when Judy leaned toward me and spoke.
“Henry’s your brother, right Ruby?” she said.
I nodded and she exchanged giggles with Era. I thought I remembered Henry walking with Era a couple of times when James would walk Emma Rae for ice cream. I hated the way the girls acted around both my brothers. It was all giggles and batting eyelashes, and complete nonsense if you asked me.
Mr. Doyle started pacing along the edge of the court. He’d be hollering soon. His youngest son, Matthew, was a senior on the team, and Mr. Doyle was constantly yelling during the games. He did it during football and baseball too, so we’d all gotten pretty used to it. Mary’s face flushed a slight shade of pink, so I wondered if she was as used to it as the rest of us.
“What’s Matthew planning on doing after grad
uation?” I asked.
She sighed and shook her head. “That’s all anybody in our house can talk about these days. Daddy insists that he goes to college and learn about business, but Matthew just wants to play ball.”
“Basketball?”
“Basketball, baseball, football; you name it. But Daddy says he’s dreaming.”
He ran down the court with such intensity in his eyes and balance in his body. He changed direction on a dime. He was tall and lean, with large muscled shoulders. I remembered watching him play football and baseball too. He was gifted. How could his daddy not see that?
Down below us, Mr. Doyle paced behind the wall of the cage, barking and clapping. He was every bit as intense as Matthew, and it seemed to me he’d be supporting his dreams. But Mr. Doyle owned several businesses in both Hanceville and Cullman, and his older sons were already working for him. Maybe expectations were a lot heavier than dreams.
I started to turn back to Mary to try to keep up the conversation, but right then it seemed like the entire gym gasped. My gaze shot to Daddy, expecting to see him laid out on the floor, but he was standing next to Mother looking all worried at the court. My next thought was for Henry, and I found him in the crowd of players gathering underneath the basket furthest away from us. One of the players waved Coach Rayburn over, his face stricken with worry. I tried to get a glimpse, but then Mr. Doyle ran across the gym. Mary and I both stood at the same time, and I saw him then. Matthew was lying on the floor unconscious.
Coach Rayburn and Mr. Doyle slapped his face a few times and finally got him to come around. They lifted him off the floor and put his arms around their shoulders, then talked for a minute before they started moving toward the exit. About ten feet from the door, Matthew started coughing so bad they had to stop, and I heard another gasp from some people nearby. I tried to look closer to see what was happening, but I couldn’t see anything from up in the stands. Mary and her mother hustled toward the exit too, so I followed them through the crowd opening up to let them by.
As we got to the door, the men moved Matthew the rest of the way out of the exit, and from what I could see, I thought he might have passed out again. Mary and Mrs. Doyle followed along behind them, clinging to each other like they might fall over if they let go. My heart thudded in my ears, and I wished I could comfort Mary. But they were gone in a matter of seconds, and I had no idea what to do.
I searched for Mother and Daddy in the crowd. Maybe they’d know something. As I looked around, I saw what had made those people gasp the second time. All across the floor where Mr. Doyle and Coach Rayburn had stopped with Matthew, was a large splattering of blood nearly as black as tar.
The ride home in the car was quiet, and it about drove me mad. I kept waiting on Daddy or Mother to ask Henry what happened, but they didn’t say anything. Mother stared out the window, her mouth moving silently. Beside me, Henry chewed on his thumbnail, and behind the wheel, Daddy stared intently at the road ahead. I felt like my seat might explode underneath me if someone didn’t say something soon.
“Mother, what was wrong with Matthew tonight?” I finally asked.
Her mouth stopped moving, and her eyes closed. But she didn’t answer.
“Daddy?” I said. “Do you know? Henry? Did he get hit in the mouth or something?”
Henry dropped his hand and looked at me kind of strange. “Naw, he didn’t get hit by nobody. Just dropped like a sack a flour. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. He was coughing as he left, and I saw blood on the floor.”
At that a little whimper escaped Mother. “Poor Francine,” she said. “She already lost her sister and a nephew this year with T.B. Now her son.”
“Now, Lizzy, don’t go getting upset,” Daddy said. “We don’t know that’s what it is.”
Mother shook her head. “I know,” she mumbled. “I’ve seen enough of it to know.”
Daddy gritted his teeth, and I tried to remember what I knew about tuberculosis. I thought one of Mother’s brothers may have died from it when I was small, but I couldn’t remember much. All I knew was that anyone I’d heard of having it had died from it. I didn’t know Matthew as anyone other than Mary’s big brother and one of Henry’s friends at school, but he’d always seemed strong and kind. He didn’t make a big deal about himself, even though he was about the most well-liked boy in school and the best athlete by far. He made good grades too. I’d never heard of him getting in any sort of trouble. Seemed like such a shame.
“Henry?” I asked quietly. I didn’t want to worry Mother any more than she was already.
He looked over at me and sighed, but it didn’t seem like the kind that was angry. Just tired. “Yeah?”
“Will Matthew die?”
He plopped a large hand on top of my hair and grinned, which settled my stomach. “I’m sure he’ll be all right. They’ll take him to the fancy doctors down in Birmingham and fix him right up.”
If Henry was sure he’d be all right, then surely it was true. The Doyles could afford expensive doctors and hospitals and all manner of treatment. If anyone in the world could survive T.B. it was Matthew Doyle.
Chapter Two
Daddy continued to get worse. Winter wasn’t kind to his aching body, and he seemed to limp through the house with an ever growing burden on his shoulders. Another visit from Dr. Fisher settled the matter, and a week before Christmas he was scheduled for surgery to remove his right foot. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like, not having one of your feet. I wondered if they’d replace it with something else, maybe some kind of wooden foot or something. And how much of it would they have to cut off? I was curious and horrified all at the same time, with no idea how to even ask such terrible questions.
The surgery was scheduled for a Friday afternoon, and on that Thursday night we celebrated Christmas early. Mother made a huge supper of roasted ham with butter beans, fried okra, and fried potatoes—all Daddy’s favorites. Then she served us the most delicious apple pie. Daddy sat at the table looking more exhausted than I’d ever seen him, with dark circles framing his eyes. But he laughed and cut up with James and Henry as usual, telling jokes about one-legged men that shocked Mother. She scolded him, but he just smiled his big toothy grin at her until she couldn’t help but smile back. I thought for sure that if we could have such a wonderful time together that night, then surely everything was going to be okay once the doctors got in there and fixed everything.
After Mother and I cleared away the table and cleaned up the dishes, Daddy called us all together by the fireplace. He was sitting in his chair with his leg propped up on the small stool he’d made out of a stump from the yard. He rubbed and kneaded his leg as we gathered around him, Mother in her rocking chair, Henry, James, and me on the floor. I figured Daddy was getting ready to tell us a story, like he did many nights before bed. But instead, he winked at Mother and asked her to bring him the gifts.
She sighed and rested her head against the back of her chair. “Oh, Abner. We agreed to wait. What will they open on Christmas morning?”
“Listen here,” he said, pointing his large finger at Mother like she was a misbehaving child. “I bought ’em. I can give ’em whenever I please. And I want to give ’em now. We’ll figure out Christmas morning when it gets here.” He tried to keep his face serious, but the grin twitching at the corner of his mouth gave him away.
Mother pushed herself up from the rocking chair and walked over to their bedroom mumbling to herself. “Beats all I’ve ever seen. Can’t keep a surprise for nothing.” She returned a moment later with a medium-sized box and two smaller ones. She handed me the larger box, which took every ounce of my strength not to tear open right then. She handed the other two to Henry and James, who showed no such restraint. I turned the box over in my hands, dying to know what was in it, yet wanting the excitement to last a little longer.
“What is it, Daddy?” I asked.
“Well, open it and find out,” he laughed.
Henry and Jame
s both let out a “Wow!” at the same time as they held up brand new pocket knives.
“Daddy, this is just what I need,” James said. He opened it and examined the blade.
Henry glanced over at me as he was admiring his knife. “Don’t get any bright ideas, Rubes. This here knife ain’t leaving my possession for a second.”
“Isn’t,” I said.
I couldn’t stand waiting another minute, so I tore my box open and pulled out the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen. It wasn’t all fancy with lace and frilly stuff all over it like Mary and her friends would wear, but the fabric felt so soft in my hands. And sewn all across it were small red roses with tiny green stems you could barely see. I jumped up and held the dress against my body, twirling to watch it fan out below my waist.
“Daddy, it’s perfect!”
“Right proud you like it,” he said, beaming at me. “Soon as I saw it in the store window I knew that dress was for my Ruby.”
“A lot of good it does her now,” Mother said from her rocking chair. She shook her head at Daddy. “Winter’s coming on and you go and buy her a dress she can’t wear for months.”
I hopped over to Daddy and threw my arms around him, not caring one way or the other about when I could wear it. “Thank you, Daddy!” I kissed the dark stubble on his cheek.
“Well go on. Go try it on.” Daddy laughed as he shooed me toward the door.
Mother and I darted across the dog run and slammed the bedroom door against the cold winter air. Even though we were alone, she pulled the curtain closed that gave my corner of the room some privacy. Despite the fire already burning, my arms prickled with goose bumps as soon as I started undressing. Mother must have seen me shiver, cause she went and stoked the fire before adding more wood. Then she helped me pull up the dress, cinching the red ties in the back until it hugged my waist. I turned to face her and rubbed my bare arms as she looked me over.
“How does it look?” I asked, turning to face the dusty mirror in the corner. My legs—white as the full moon—were exposed from right below my knees down to the wool socks I still had on.
Healing Ruby: A Novel Page 2