Healing Ruby: A Novel

by Jennifer H. Westall

  Henry shook his head. “I don’t know about all this. Just cause you’re gonna be his son-in-law don’t guarantee he’ll give us a fair shake. It’s too late for planting anything decent for this season.”

  James threw up his hands and started pacing again. “It’s all we’ve got. Some of the land’s already planted. He said we can take over part of it for this year, and we can all help with the cotton crop for the rest of the summer for a wage too, even Ruby.”

  “Me?” I said. “You seem awfully quick to hire me out without my permission.”

  James leaned onto the back of the chair at the table, his eyes wide and pleading. “I’ve done all I can. Believe me, this is what’s best.”

  “He’s right.” All three of us looked at Mother when she spoke. I could see in her eyes a spark that had been missing, a recognition finally of the circumstance. “James is right. We have to go. God will provide.”

  June 25th, 1931, was the second worst day of my life, with only the day of Daddy’s death surpassing it in pure gut-wrenching awfulness. The day before, some men from the bank had come by to get a feel for how much things were worth, and they’d tagged everything that was going up for auction. James had followed them around protesting every item, including the horse and plow. He was so angry by the time they left, he tore out of there in the car and didn’t come back home till the next morning. We were already loading our personal belongings into the truck when he drove up.

  He marched over to us and growled at us about the truck being part of the auction so we couldn’t use it. Henry, who was standing in the back pulling up a trunk, straightened and took off his hat. He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his shirt sleeve before replacing the straw hat.

  “I didn’t see no tag on the truck,” he said.

  James stomped around to the front. “It’s right here.” He pointed at the front window, but nothing was there. “Well, it was there yesterday.”

  Henry looked around and shrugged. “Guess them boys at the bank had a change of heart or something.”

  James looked over at me behind the driver’s side of the truck. “Did he take off the tag?”

  I shrugged. “Can’t say. I never saw it.”

  James narrowed his eyes at Henry, and then a small grin crept across his mouth. It was the closest I’d seen to a smile in some time.

  After we got all our trunks loaded, we took one last walk around to make sure we got everything. The weight of all that was happening hit me so hard, I didn’t know if I’d be able to breathe much longer. I stood in the living room of the only house I’d ever known, and I could feel Daddy in that room. I could see him in his chair in the pale light of morning reading his Bible, or coming through the door with James and Henry close behind, all of them hot, sweaty, and hungry for dinner. I could smell Mother’s biscuits and ham, and hear Daddy proclaim her the best cook in all of Cullman county.

  There would be nothing of Daddy at our new home, no memories to hold onto when I missed him. I tried not to cry, cause I knew that would just upset my brothers even more, but a few tears did slip away from me. I swiped them away and went outside. Mother couldn’t even bear to take a final look around. She sat in the truck with her gaze set straight ahead. I walked over to the truck and leaned through the open window.

  “You all right, Mother?”

  She didn’t look at me. “Tell those boys to come on. There’s still plenty of work to be done today, and we best be moving along.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I walked over to the front porch and hollered for the boys. I wasn’t about to go back into the house again. I’d said my final goodbye to its ghosts. The boys came out with their heads down and walked to the truck in silence. Henry jumped into the back. I climbed in next to Mother, and James turned the ignition. The roar of the truck coming to life was a welcome sound, drowning out any need for talking. As we drove up the driveway to the road, I rested my arm on the open window, and my chin on my arm. I watched the dust kicking up around us, blocking my last view of my home.

  The new place was a shack. It looked like it had been dropped out of a tornado into the middle of a field and then sat on by an enormous elephant. I didn’t even try to stay positive. What was the point? Obviously, once again, I hadn’t prayed with the right kind of faith, since God had just stood by and let us get thrown to wind.

  I helped get everything off the truck and into the house, none of us saying much of anything. I helped Mother put away the few dishes we were able to bring with us, but when I pulled back the curtain over the cabinet, I was met with frantic scratching. I screamed and jumped back.

  Mother dropped the iron skillet she’d been holding, and it cracked the rotting, wooden floor as it hit. “Ruby!”

  “What’s wrong?” James asked as he and Henry came into the house carrying a trunk. They set it down and frowned at me.

  I pointed at the cabinet. “Something was scurrying around in there. Like a rat or something.”

  Henry laughed and James rolled his eyes. My anger finally ignited, and I stomped over to stand in front of them. “Look! I’ve done everything I’m supposed to without saying anything against this plan of yours. But this is not a home! This is a shack for rats and whatever other varmints are running loose in here!”

  “Don’t you start yelling at me,” James said. “I’m doing everything I can to keep a roof over your head. You don’t like it? Then you can find somewhere’s else to be!”

  “Look at this place!” I threw my hand out toward the room where we stood. “There’s nothing but that tiny stove and that rat-filled cabinet in here! That fireplace over there is going to cave in at any moment, and there’s no furniture! Not even a table for us to eat on. Not to mention there’s only one bedroom with one rusted bed frame! Where are we all supposed to sleep?”

  “Rubes,” Henry said, walking toward me with his palms out, like I might attack him at any moment. “I don’t like it either, but James is right about one thing. He’s doing the best he can for now. We’ll fix this place right up, won’t we James?”

  James nodded, his mouth still firmly fixed in a grimace.

  “And how are you going to do that?” I asked. “You left all the tools at the farm.”

  “We had to,” James said through clenched teeth. “The bank took everything we owned!”

  I stared at my brothers, desperate to find a way to make this different. Realizing I couldn’t do anything just made me madder than I already was. Then Mother came up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders, trying to soothe my anger.

  “You three have been very brave, and you’ve done all you can.” She squeezed my shoulders and pulled me back against her. My anger began to scatter, but it left only confusion in its wake. “We have to pull ourselves together. God has provided us with our basic needs, but we have to do our part too. I’m sure you boys can do something with this place, and Ruby and I will help.” She turned me around to face her. “Won’t we, Ruby?”

  I dropped my gaze to the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now,” Mother continued. “James, you take the truck back over to the farm and leave it where it’s supposed to be. I won’t have us owing the bank one thing.”

  James didn’t argue, but I could see the rebellion in his eyes.

  “Henry, you go out to the shed and see what kind of tools Mr. Calhoun has provided for the place, and Ruby and I will take care of any critters that have made this their home.”

  I shuddered. “Mother, I don’t—”

  “You’ll do what I say, young lady.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As James turned to leave, Mother called out to him again. He turned back to her with respectful resignation. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “When are you and Emma Rae getting married?”

  “Ain’t sure yet. Her daddy ain’t exactly happy ’bout it. He says if I prove myself and get things turned around here, then he’ll consider giving us his blessing next year.”

  I couldn�
��t believe he was getting married, but I held my tongue. I’d given him enough fits for one day. We all went outside, James driving off in the truck as I walked with Mother and Henry to the shed. When we pulled open the door, it almost fell off the hinges. Henry had to pick it up off the ground to move it. The inside was dark, with spiderwebs in every corner. I wasn’t about to go inside if I didn’t have to, so I waited while Henry looked around. When he stepped back outside, he was covered in dirt and had a small trowel in his hand.

  “There’s a fairly decent plow. Old, but it’ll get the job done. Not sure how we’re gonna pull it though.” He shaded his eyes from the sun as he looked around the fields surrounding the house. “I guess we’ll need to talk to old man Calhoun tomorrow about using a mule.”

  “Any other tools?” Mother asked.

  “Some. Enough to get by for this year, but if you want to have a garden you better get started right away. I’m guessing we’ll need some canned vegetables to make it through the winter.”

  “What’s that for?” I asked pointing at the trowel in his hand.

  He grinned and lifted it toward me. “Killing varmints.”

  After a long day of moving, repairing holes in the roof and floor, chasing all manner of critters out of the house, and downing a small supper of beans, I was ready to sleep for days. Problem was, we hadn’t yet figured out sleeping arrangements. Mother stood in the bedroom with her hands on her hips, sighing and contemplating, before she finally threw her hands up in defeat.

  “Well no one’s sleeping in here until we get a mattress,” she said. “You kids can make a pallet out on the porch where it’s cooler. Maybe come winter time, we’ll have a bed.”

  “And where are you gonna sleep?” Henry asked.

  She shrugged and started pulling sheets out of a trunk. “Right here, I suppose, is as good a place as any.” She spread out the sheets in front of the fireplace. “I can jump right up in the mornings and get breakfast going.”

  I thought she was taking optimism a bit too far. I didn’t necessarily mind sleeping on the porch, but the idea of Mother sleeping on the floor made me uncomfortable. I didn’t think James would be too keen on the idea either, but I couldn’t see what we could do about it.

  By the time James got home, we’d finished making the pallets. He gritted his teeth and plopped down beside me and Henry on the porch. Of course, we didn’t sleep much. James was still worked up, and even though I was as tired as I could be, my mind was swirling with all the changes coming. I looked up through the slits in the roof at the stars, and I listened to James and Henry talking about all the work that needed to get done around the place. When they would pause for a few moments, I could hear whippoorwills and crickets singing, and it almost seemed peaceful.

  “Is Emma Rae nice?” I asked during one of their pauses.

  “I reckon,” James answered. “She has a few friends.”

  “Are you nervous about getting married?”

  “Naw, why would I be nervous?”

  “Do you love her?”

  James was quiet, but after a few seconds Henry started snickering. I heard James hit him. “Ruby, you’re still a little too young to worry about all that. I love Emma Rae just fine, and I’m sure she’s gonna be nice to you. Y’all will be like sisters. You always wanted a sister, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, you’ll have one. And I’m sure you’ll do everything you can to help her out once we’re married.”

  “I’ll definitely help her out,” Henry said. I heard James hit him again, and then there was scuffling for a few minutes.

  “All right, all right!” James said. “That’s enough. We got to get some rest.” They settled back into the sheets. “Ruby, tomorrow we’re going over to talk to Mr. Calhoun about getting started. You’ll need to go with us and get to work on whatever he has for you right away. I’ll drop you off, speak to Calhoun, and then I’ll head into town. Henry, you got to get that fence repaired so we can keep a few chickens and such.”

  “I know,” Henry moaned. “You’ve been over this already. Lord, you need a wife to worry over.”

  They finally grew quiet after a few more minutes, and I drifted off on the whippoorwill song.

  Chapter Twelve

  Our first breakfast together in our new home wasn’t exactly something to be remembered. There were a few biscuits, some sorghum syrup, and a bit of dried meat. With no table yet, we sat on the front porch and listened to distant roosters signaling the start of the day. None of us said much, maybe cause we were all still so tired, but I guess it was cause we’d all woken up to the same realization. It hadn’t been a nightmare.

  I walked with James through the field that we’d be responsible for, up the slope where the corn was planted, and around a large field of cotton, probably at least fifty acres worth. I could see several men scattered throughout chopping at the stalks. A few rows over were two men guiding a plow behind a mule. Ahead of us, I could see a fairly large white clapboard house—not as nice as the Doyles’ place—with planted fields sloping away from it on all sides. I followed James across the front yard toward the barn. He waved at someone, an older man that looked about Daddy’s age. He pulled a large mule behind him toward a plow laying on the ground. The mule raised his head in defiance, but the man pulled harder, finally getting him hooked up. He dusted off his hands and strode over toward us with a frown on his face covered by his enormous handlebar mustache.

  “James.” The man nodded politely. “You all settled in?”

  “Yes, sir. I just wanted to come talk with you for a minute about what we can do with what’s left of the season.” He put his hand on my back and pushed me forward. “This here’s Ruby. She’s ready to help out in the fields like we talked about. Henry’s finishing some work up around our place then he’ll be eager to get started too.”

  “Sure. Sure.” He turned back toward the barn and hollered, “Chester!” He waited a moment before turning back to us. “Chester’s my oldest son. He runs most things around the farm these days. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but you’ll get used to him. We’re finishing up the last of the strawberries this week. You can start there.”

  I didn’t think that was the right time to tell him I’d never picked a single strawberry. Daddy had always refused to let me do much in the fields, said it wasn’t work for a little girl. I figured none of that applied anymore since Daddy was gone and so was our home.

  While Mr. Calhoun was still talking, another man, who I assumed was Chester, walked up from the barn. He was a bit taller than his daddy, with big, broad shoulders. I couldn’t tell much about his face cause it was mostly covered by a bushy brown beard that had a strip of blackened spit running down it from his tobacco. He stepped beside Mr. Calhoun and looked me and James over from behind cold eyes.

  “This here’s James and his sister…I’m sorry, what was your name, honey?”

  “Ruby.” My voice sounded small amongst their deep bellowing ones.

  “Ruby,” Mr. Calhoun continued. “They’re taking over the Hendricks’ old place. Why don’t you get Ruby started in the strawberry field, and then let’s get James set up with whatever he needs. I don’t expect we’ll have any trouble.” Mr. Calhoun gave a pointed look to Chester.

  “Right,” Chester said. “Daddy, can I have a word?”

  Mr. Calhoun sighed and slapped his gloves against his hand. He stepped a few feet away, and they began talking in hushed voices. I looked over at James, and the concern in his face made my stomach knot up. I could tell the conversation between Calhoun and Chester was strained.

  “I don’t answer to that man,” Calhoun said just loud enough for us to hear. “Not anymore. You can keep your family there if you want, but I’m free to do what I see is right.”

  Chester looked over at me, and I could’ve sworn I saw contempt. What could he possibly dislike about me? I’d never seen the man before in my life. He grunted something under his breath then waved a hand at me.


  “Well come on, then. Wasting daylight.”

  I looked over at James, not sure I wanted to separate. He scowled at me, so I hurried after Chester. I followed him past the barn and down a gentle slope to a field that was smaller than the corn we’d passed through earlier, but still larger than the garden we’d managed at our old place. It pained me to have to think of my home that way, so I pushed that thought right out of my head. Chester called a young girl over, and I realized that I knew her from school. When she came over to me, she smiled, so I was doubly thankful to have found someone I knew and who was friendly.

  “Ellen, this here’s Ruby,” Chester said after spitting tobacco on the ground. “Take her out and show her how things’re done.” Then he pointed at me. “No funny business.”

  Chester walked away before I could figure out what he’d meant, leaving me in Ellen’s charge. She reached her hand out toward me like I was a scared kitten she was trying to get to drink some milk. “Come on, Ruby. Don’t worry. There’s nothing to it.”

  I didn’t particularly care for being treated like a child, especially from someone younger than me. I puffed out my chest and followed her into the field, determined to show her I could master strawberries in no time. How difficult could it be anyway?

  We reached the row where she’d been working, and she handed me a shallow woven basket. “Here, I’ll help you get started. Just keep in mind that you don’t want to stack ’em too high on account they bruise kind a easy. ’Bout halfway up the side should be plenty.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I could figure that part out. So what, I just pull them off and put them in a basket?”

  “Well, you should do it with some care, and you need to make sure the strawberry’s ready to get pulled.” She looked at me like she was expecting me to jump right in, and I tried not to look dumb.