Healing Ruby: A Novel

by Jennifer H. Westall

  He turned his distant gaze back to me, a look so serious I stopped laughing. “I ain’t talking about money, Ruby. Changing your life. Getting out of here. You’d have to give up everything you ever knew.”

  “Doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. I’d gladly give up all this.”

  He shook his head, and his grin returned. “Well, you’re smart. You’ll do it right. Go off to college and actually learn something. Then chase some fool dream to save the world. Probably do it too.”

  “You could make it out of here.”

  “Naw. I ain’t smart like you. And I don’t care much for book learning. But who knows? Maybe I’ll be playing ball in the majors someday, and you’ll tell everyone you know about how I’m your big brother.” He pushed himself up from the ground and held out a hand to help me up. “Guess till then we’ll just have to make do.”

  I stood and brushed the dirt off my dress while Henry headed back to his rows of pepper. With my hunger and thirst a little better satisfied, I figured I’d be able to finish up my section of the field in less than an hour. Ellen had already finished up her part, of course. I’d tried to keep up with her, but my inexperience was still holding me back. The potato patch was empty of workers, as well as the corn. In fact, I realized that besides me and Henry, the only workers still out were two colored folks working over in the peas near the back side of the property. I thought that was a little odd cause they were always the first ones to finish every day so that they could get home well before dark.

  When I looked a little closer, I could see it was a woman and a child. In fact, I was sure that child was the same boy I’d seen a few weeks earlier. They worked their way through a couple of rows pretty quickly, too quick to be getting all the ripe ones. They had to be leaving more than half a crop of perfectly good peas behind. Maybe they needed some help.

  I decided it would be better to help out than to have them get in trouble, maybe even lose their jobs, even if it did make Chester mad. So I started walking toward them. They were moving so fast, by the time I got close to them, they’d already moved on. I bent down to look at the plants, and sure enough it hardly looked like they’d even been picked at all. I looked around to see if I could spot the two of them, but they were gone. An uneasy feeling crept up on me, and I was sure what I’d seen wasn’t a couple of folks who were bad at picking peas.

  I walked over toward the barn so I could see the chicken pen. The woman was standing there looking back and forth. Her hands gripped a potato sack that was less than half full. Just inside the pen, I saw the boy scoop up another chicken and ring its neck.

  My heart was filled with compassion for both of them, but I couldn’t stand by and let them steal right from under Mr. Calhoun’s nose. He’d given my family a chance to survive, and I didn’t want to see him taken advantage of. But I didn’t want to get them in trouble either.

  As the two of them headed back around the barn, I went around the other way to try to talk some sense into them. When the woman saw me approaching, her whole body froze and she gripped the boy’s shoulder. He froze too. I wanted to say something to ease the fear in their eyes, but I had no idea how to go about it.

  “The boy only did what I told him,” the woman said.

  “Momma, no.” He pushed her hand off his shoulder and stepped forward with his chest pushed out. “We ain’t done nothing wrong. We just taking some chicken and peas up to Mr. Calhoun’s place.”

  I tried to reassure them both. “I don’t want to get either of you in trouble. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

  “You again?” The boy looked back at his mother and pointed at me. “That’s the crazy white girl I told you about.”

  She reached out and pinched him hard on the neck, and he hollered for a second. “Samuel, I done told you not to talk about folks like that. You want to get yourself beat down? Now you apologize to Miss—” She looked up at me with deep brown eyes that were still swimming with fear. “I’m sorry, miss. I’m trying to teach the child manners, but he don’t learn so good. He’s always saying things he shouldn’t and running off at the mouth.”

  “I can understand that,” I said, smiling at both of them.

  Samuel was still rubbing his neck when his mother pushed him forward. “Say you’s sorry now.”

  He looked at me like he’d rather scoop up a handful of dirt and swallow it than to say he was sorry. And I couldn’t blame him. I hated when Mother made me apologize for things I wasn’t sorry for.

  “It’s all right,” I said. I looked over at Samuel and grinned. “At least I know your name now.” Then I looked back at the young woman. “I’m Ruby Graves.”

  She dropped her gaze, and I figured she was still pretty scared. “Miss Graves, I ain’t trying to cause no trouble.” She lifted the potato sack toward me, still refusing to look up. “We only picked a little, but if you take it now maybe we can all just forget what happened.”

  I heard the sounds on the other side of the farm of Chester moving the mules into the stable for the evening. He’d be down this way soon to put away the last of the equipment. “Keep it,” I said. “You go on and feed your boy. But this is a bad idea. You got to find some other way to get some food. Don’t you have a family or church that’ll help you?”

  An awful sadness seemed to soak right through to her bones. “We don’t need no help, Miss. Now, come on Samuel. Let’s not get Miss Graves into any trouble.”

  They hurried away from the barn and Mr. Calhoun’s farm. I watched them for a while, wondering how bad off they could be. Despite the mother claiming otherwise, they were obviously in need of help. They both looked way too thin. I couldn’t understand why they’d risk everything to steal if they could get help in their own community. Maybe Matthew was wrong about the Colony.

  When the two of them neared the road, I expected them to turn west like all the other colored workers did in the late afternoons, heading for the crossroads where they’d catch rides back to Colony. But instead, they crossed the road and followed a path into the woods. Just before I lost sight of them, the mother turned and looked in my direction again. I couldn’t see her face much with the fading light, but all of a sudden a verse came to my mind, and I knew it could only be from God cause I couldn’t remember where I’d read it.

  “…visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction…”

  And I knew right then I was supposed to help them somehow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  That Bible verse stuck in my head all the rest of the week. I found it in the first chapter of James. It said:

  “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.”

  This sparked my interest in the rest of the book of James since I was sure God had put those words in my thoughts. I found a good bit of what I read unsettling, especially the verse directly preceding that one.

  “If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man’s religion is vain.”

  Now when that old goat Cass told me I should watch my tongue, I could easily dismiss him. He was nothing but blustering air to me. But when it was God himself saying it, I couldn’t ignore it. So I spent a good bit of my time in Calhoun’s fields that week on my knees, tending crops and tending my soul at the same time. I was sure of two things. One, God wanted me to get control of my tongue, a task I’d been failing at for many years already. Two, God wanted me to help two people I didn’t know, who didn’t even want my help. I figured he had to have the wrong person.

  I looked around for them, but I didn’t see Samuel or his mother the rest of the week. I was sure I’d scared them off, which I had to admit, I hoped was the case. If I couldn’t find them, then I could avoid entangling myself in something that was clearly none of my business, and might even get me in some serious trouble. I wasn’t quite sure who I’d be in trouble with, but I was certain gettin
g involved in their lives would complicate mine.

  On Saturday, I was thankful to have the soup kitchen to concentrate on. Here were people directly in front of me who needed my help, and I could do something about it. These people needed food, and here was food to give, without stealing or sneaking around. I’d just about convinced myself that I had simply misunderstood what God was trying to tell me when I ran into the nice old man I’d served my first day in the soup kitchen, the one who’d warned me of something dark coming after me. He came through the line with his head down, but when I handed him some bread, he looked up at me and gave me a weary smile. He took his food to a corner table, ate quietly, speaking to only one or two folks, and then straightened his spot at the table.

  “Let me get that for you,” I said as I walked over to him.

  He held onto his plate when I reached for it, his gaze meeting mine with genuine affection. “Don’t doubt what God wants for you, honey. He wants me to tell you that. I hope that’s all right.”

  I was struck by the gentleness behind his eyes. Even though his face was worn and wrinkled by hardship, he held a certain peace inside of him that drew me in. This time, when he spoke about God’s message for me, it didn’t frighten me. I just felt an overwhelming sorrow for this kind man’s condition.

  “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Harland Massey, Miss.”

  I reached for his hand. “I’m Ruby Graves. Thank you for being so kind toward me, and for passing on God’s words.”

  “Oh, don’t thank me, Miss Graves. It’s you who’s shown me a great kindness. You treat all of us that come in here with dignity, and that means more than anything. You ever need a thing in the world, I reckon you can count on just about any one of us. You keep listening to God’s direction. Even if what he says seems impossible.”

  “Just seems like he wants things from me that I don’t understand the first thing about.”

  A huge smile spread under his beard. “Then you’s right where he wants you. Just like the Good Lord told Paul in the second letter to the Corinthians, ‘My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’ If you could do it in your own power, well now, it wouldn’t be to his glory, would it?”

  He handed me his plate and kissed the top of my head. “You take care now,” he said as he walked away.

  Matthew came up beside me and watched Mr. Massey exit. He turned to me with a frown. “Do you know that man?”

  “A little I suppose. He’s been in here before, and we talked both times. Why?”

  “No reason. Just be careful. Most of these fellas are just down on their luck and harmless. But a few of ’em will take advantage of your kindness.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Massey wouldn’t hurt a flea on a dog.”

  He looked at me in that infuriating big-brotherly way. “All the same. You be careful.”

  “I swear, Matthew Doyle, sometimes I just want to slap you upside the head.”

  I headed for the kitchen to return Mr. Massey’s plate. I handed it to Mrs. Doyle to be washed, and Matthew came up beside me chuckling and shaking his head.

  “Now what?” I said.

  “Nothing. I ain’t getting myself in the line of your anger today. No telling what I’ll say that’ll set you off.”

  His mother looked over her shoulder at him while she continued her washing. “Now Matthew, that’s just unkind. Why would you speak to Ruby that way?”

  “Cause he loves treating me like a child.”

  He put his hands up in surrender. “I merely suggested that she should be careful about getting close to all the hobos coming in here, and of course that gets me at least three lashes of the tongue.”

  I thought about God’s words to me that week, about how I was supposed to be taming my tongue. Shame flooded my heart. Where was all this anger toward Matthew coming from anyway?

  Mrs. Doyle shook her head at him. “Not one of those poor gentlemen would ever hurt Ruby. They all love her for the way she cares for them. If anyone can understand that, it should be you.”

  Matthew’s face flushed a warm pink, and my heart dropped into my stomach. He glanced over at me and sighed. “I reckon.”

  The softness in his eyes revived the hope in me I’d been killing for months. I remembered the first day I’d seen him in his bed, spitting up blood and wishing for death. Had I loved him right then? I couldn’t remember. It felt like I’d loved him forever. I had to figure out a way to make peace with the way he cared for me before my anger drove him away for good. Cause when I thought about it, even if he didn’t love me like I wished for, I couldn’t stand the idea of not having him as my friend.

  “I better get back to work,” he said.

  As he left the kitchen, Mrs. Doyle asked me to help her finish up the dishes, and I happily agreed. I needed to get my mind right and bury that stubborn hope again. I concentrated on drying off plates and cups till I was finally able to think about the week that lay ahead of me. Several of our crops were coming in, and I’d be helping Mother put away as much as we could for the fall and winter. With a smaller plot of land to work with and Emma Rae possibly joining us on a permanent basis next spring, our food supplies were going to need a fishes-and-loaves miracle to feed all of us.

  While I was musing over our meager food supply, I happen to notice the pantry shelves in the back corner of the kitchen. There were five large jars of tomatoes, peas, and what looked like peaches. Maybe God was showing me the answer to the impossible.

  “Mrs. Doyle?” I asked. “I was wondering where all this food comes from. Is it donated to the church?”

  She kept on scrubbing the large pot in front of her. “Yes, we get donations from church members each week. Mostly from their own stores of food.”

  “Do you ever have leftovers?”

  “Not often, but sometimes.”

  “What happens to the leftover food?”

  “Well, it’s always cans of vegetables we didn’t use, so we save them for the following week. There’s never any bread left over.”

  I paused and thought through the best way to ask my next question without telling her too much. “I know a couple of people, a mother and her little boy, that are hurting for food. They can’t come all the way into Cullman to go to the churches here for help. Would it be all right if I took a jar or two of the leftovers to help them out?”

  She stopped washing and furrowed her brow. “Now Ruby, be honest with me, does your family have enough food?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. We’re doing fine. I just want to be able to help these people if I can. If it’s too much trouble—”

  “No! It’s not that. I’m sorry, I know you want to help people. You have such a kind heart. Let me ask Pastor Cass if he thinks it would be all right.”

  I knew right then I’d never get a single jar of food. “Please don’t bother Pastor Cass with it. I’ll find another way to get them a little food.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me at the same time I heard Cass’s voice behind us. “What’s this about bothering me?”

  We both turned around to find him standing in the doorway with his jacket draped over his arm. He always stopped by the kitchen on Saturdays as he was leaving, but I usually managed to stay as far away from him as possible. No such luck on this day.

  “Ruby was just asking about helping out a poor family that needs food but can’t make it to the soup kitchen.” Mrs. Doyle dried her hands off and put the towel on the counter. “Do you think it would be all right for her to take them any leftover canned vegetables we have?”

  He gave me a curious smile. “Which family is this? Perhaps I can speak to our deacons about reaching out to them.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said as I fought off a shiver.

  “Now, Miss Ruby, if there’s someone in our community in need, it’s our Christian duty to help them.”

  “Yes, sir. They’ve just made it clear to me that they don’t want any help. But I can see they need some. I
thought if I brought them a little, it would encourage them. That’s all.”

  He furrowed his brow and raised his nose in the air. “I see. So this family you speak of, they need help but don’t want to ask for it.” He paused and looked at me suspiciously. “Is this your family we’re speaking of?”

  My whole body tensed up, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut. I clenched my fists and tried to think of an answer that wasn’t sinful. But before I could, Mrs. Doyle spoke up.

  “I asked her that myself, and she assured me that they’re all doing fine. I believe she’s just eager to give help to this unfortunate family.”

  I let my breath out as she finished, thankful I didn’t say anything I’d regret. Cass looked from her to me with his lips pressed tight into a frown. Then he put on his jacket and straightened the sleeves.

  “I suppose we’ll have to take Miss Ruby at her word. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll be able to help. These donations were given to us to minister to the poor who come to our doors. And I believe they should be used for the purpose for which they were intended.”

  I looked over at Mrs. Doyle, wanting to tell her that I’d known all along Cass wouldn’t agree. She frowned at him and stepped closer to me, putting her arm over my shoulder. “Pastor, I believe it’s important to encourage our young people to serve wherever God may direct them. If he is guiding Ruby to help these poor people, I will not be the one to stand in her way. My husband and I will gladly donate extra food to the pantry to cover anything Ruby needs.”

  I could not have loved her more in that moment. Old Cass’s expression hardened, and he looked on me with unveiled contempt. “Very well, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Doyle.”

  After he left, I turned and hugged her with all my might, relieved I hadn’t said or done anything rash. “Thank you so much!”

  She returned my hug. “Sometimes that man can be so rigid. But I treasure you like my own daughter, and I’ll help in any way I can.”