Ruby searched in her utensil drawer for an egg beater, wondering why someone hadn’t complained to Hugo’s commanding officer about the way he treated his wife. Her mouth worked itself into a grimace. Because it isn’t anyone’s business, that’s why. Why had her mother kept her beatings secret? Was it because nothing could be done? Was it because of shame and weakness? Or was it because other people didn’t want to become involved? She wished she knew. She didn’t know what she could do, but, by God, she would do something. At least she would make the effort. She knew in her heart that if she brought the matter up to Dixie, their friendship would end and Dixie would deny the story she’d just heard. But somehow she would find a way.
The egg beater whirred to life. In her mind Ruby was pulverizing Hugo Sinclaire to a pulp. Her mind whirled and twirled as fast as the beater in her hands. If there were only someone to talk to, someone to discuss this with in the hope of coming up with some sort of solution to Dixie’s problems. Andrew, of course. Andrew was the only person she could discuss it with. The beater stilled.
Ruby scraped the cake batter into the tin and slid it into the oven. She looked at the clock. If she hurried, she had enough time to take a quick bath, get herself powdered and perfumed before Andrew walked in the door. If there was one thing Ruby learned in the few weeks of her married life, it was that she could get Andrew to smile and do just about anything if she made wicked bedroom promises and honored them. Above and beyond the call of duty. For Dixie, she would do whatever it took.
When Andrew walked into the fragrant kitchen an hour later, he found his wife frosting a still-warm cake that smelled almost as good as she did. His eyebrows shot up. He nuzzled her sweet-smelling neck.
“If you’re really good, Andrew, I’ll let you lick the beater and bowl,” Ruby gurgled.
“Before or after I lick . . . other things?” Andrew leered.
“Take your choice,” Ruby said boldly. “But can we make it later? There’s something I want to talk to you about.” She reached for the invitation to Alice Everly’s Christmas party. Andrew’s eyesbrows shot up a second time.
“Make sure you dress properly. Don’t upstage her. Remember your rank.”
“I know that, Andrew. I’ve done everything you said, and more. I’ve spread myself so thin, there are days when I barely make it back here to have supper on time. Captain Alice has me working on her newsletter, she appointed me recording secretary for her charity drive, and yesterday she called to tell me, Andrew, not ask me, to recruit the other wives for a used-clothing drive, and in between all that she has me collecting used toys for her Christmas party. You don’t have to worry about me embarrassing you.”
“You just did,” Andrew said tartly. “You called the captain’s wife Captain Alice. Why can’t you just call her Mrs. Everly? What if you slip and that captain bit comes out? How’s that going to look?”
“Shitty. I’m not stupid, Andrew. Look, she’s using me to make herself look good to Major Carter’s wife. And Major Carter’s wife uses Alice to make herself look good to Colonel Moses’s wife, who, in turn, knocks herself out to make sure she performs for General Frankel’s wife. I know how it works.”
“Are you complaining?” Andrew asked testily.
“Yes. But only to you. You’re my husband, Andrew. Why shouldn’t I complain to you? I listen to your problems, and sometimes I come up with a solution for you. Right now I am experiencing a problem. So I need you to listen. Sit down, I’ll get you a beer and your slippers. Please, Andrew, this is important to me.”
“Okay, okay, but this better not be heavy-duty stuff.”
Ruby’s stomach fluttered. Andrew was not in a good mood. Perhaps this wasn’t the time to mention Dixie at all. She could make up some problem and hope for the best, but she knew she wouldn’t do that. Dixie was too important to her.
Ruby curled up on the floor by Andrew’s slippered feet, her arms wrapped around her knees. She watched her husband’s face darken, whiten, and then turn unbelievably angry as she told him what was on her mind.
“Let me see if I understand this,” he said slowly, his eyes dark and angry. “You’re saying Hugo slaps his wife around. You want to do something about it, and if you do that, I become involved. It will be all over this base an hour after you interfere. True or not, it will go on Hugo’s record, and while I don’t have any affection for the bastard, I can’t see a man’s career being ruined for something you stupid women think is going on. Did you hear the things you just said, Ruby? Have you given any thought to the repercussions? I forbid, I absolutely forbid you to become involved.”
Ruby’s eyes sparked dangerously. She uncurled herself from her position at Andrew’s feet and stood over him. She made a mental note of the look of discomfort on his face. So, Admiral Query had been right. He had once told her that people sitting were at a disadvantage when someone towered over them. She pressed her advantage.
“Doesn’t it count that a young woman is crippled because of her husband? She has to live the rest of her life like that. No man has a right to do something like that, and I don’t care if he’s a marine or not!”
“So what if he cuffs her around a little? She probably deserves it. You can’t prove he made her a cripple, for Christ’s sake. This is not your business and it definitely is not mine. Drop it, Ruby. Right now!”
Ruby leaned over Andrew. “And if I don’t?” she asked softly. “Will you use your fists on me, Andrew? Will you slap me around because you think I deserve to be slapped around? If you do think like that, you are in for a shock, because I will give you back as good as I get.”
Andrew blinked. “You’re paranoid, Ruby. You’re relating all of this to your parents. I can understand that, but this is different. We’re talking about causing trouble and ruining Hugo’s career, as well as my own. Let them handle their own business. If Dixie wanted to, she would have done something about it.”
Andrew was on his feet now, towering over his wife. “Another thing, Mrs. Blue, if I feel like slapping you, I will. That’s my prerogative. I’m your husband. I’m not saying I would do that, I’m just saying I could,” Andrew said belligerently.
Ruby’s voice turned dangerously cold. “If you ever raise your hand to me, justified or not, it will be the last thing you ever do to me.”
“And just what do you think you can do?” Andrew blustered.
“Leave. After I turn you in to your commanding officer.”
Andrew snorted. It was obvious he didn’t like this conversation at all, just as it was obvious he believed every word his wife said. “Where do you think you’d go?”
A secretive smile played around the corners of Ruby’s mouth as she thought of her two properties back in Georgetown. Now she knew for certain that she’d made the right decision not to tell her husband.
“I have any number of places I could go. All that’s important for you to know is that I would leave. When it comes to guts, I have just as much as you marines. You can’t intimidate me, so don’t try.”
For an answer, Andrew stormed into the kitchen, picked up the frosted cake, and threw it against the refrigerator. Then he kicked off his slippers, picked up his shoes and coat, and marched out of the apartment, slamming the door so hard, Ruby thought it would fall off the hinges.
“Damn you, Andrew,” Ruby blubbered as she set about cleaning up the mess he’d created. Did he actually believe he had the right to slap her around? Had she gotten herself into the same situation her mother had?
Ruby ate her solitary dinner with a book from the base library propped up against the sugar bowl. Her eyes kept going to the clock on the kitchen wall. She continued to sit long after the kitchen was cleaned. She drank two cups of tea and ate nine cookies and a banana. Lately, her appetite had been awesome. At ten o’clock she undressed and put on her robe. She settled herself in the living room with her book to wait for her husband. This wasn’t over yet, she thought.
But it was. Andrew returned at six minutes to midnight compl
etely drunk, a silly smile pasted on his face. To her knowledge, he’d never been this drunk. Her conscience pricked her, but she ignored it and continued to read the same page she’d been reading for the past two hours.
“C’mon, honey, let’s make up and go to bed. I wanna make love to you.” He grinned.
“You’re blitzed, Andrew. And it’s no way to solve a problem. We have to talk it through, but now isn’t the time. I’ll help you,” she said, offering her arm.
“Don’t need your damn help,” Andrew snarled, staggering toward the bedroom.
She should have let well enough alone, but she didn’t. “You know, Andrew, you’re always worried about the impression you make. What if someone saw you in this condition? How’s that going to look? People will say I’m married to a drunk, a carouser. Remember, I wear your rank. I don’t like seeing you in this condition.”
“Tough,” Andrew snarled again. “Get in the damn bed!”
Thirty minutes later Ruby was crying into her pillow and Andrew was snoring lustily. He’d practically raped her, and she’d lain there, letting him abuse her in his drunken anger. He’d used her. He’d abused her both physically and verbally.
Their first fight. Fights always had winners and losers, and she knew she was the loser for all her defiance. She continued to cry softly into her pillow.
In the morning she feigned sleep and didn’t wake to prepare Andrew’s breakfast. It was the only thing she could think of to assert herself. She half expected her husband to shake her awake, but he didn’t. And he didn’t kiss her good-bye when he left. His show of defiance.
It was eight-thirty when Ruby climbed from the bed, and even then she wished she hadn’t. She made it to the bathroom just in time to relieve herself of all the food she’d eaten the night before. She returned to the bathroom five more times. Each attack of vomiting was more severe than the last. By noon she was so miserable, she wanted to cry. She had to get dressed and walk across the base to the Officers’ Club for a meeting on the clothing drive, a meeting that Alice Everly said she must attend. After that she had to make her way to one of the other girls’ apartments to help wrap Christmas toys the club collected for the poor children in town. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she had a third event scheduled: the food-collection committee for the local church group.
She should call Alice Everly and cancel. She was sick. She wasn’t sure what was worse, being sick or listening to the deadly silence on Alice’s end of the wire. Like it or not, she had to show up.
Ruby felt as though she’d been through a hurricane when she returned home at five-thirty. Dixie’s apartment was dark, she noticed, while her own was bright and cheerful with the colored Christmas lights winking around the door. The urge to rush up to Dixie’s door and kick it was so strong, she ground her heels into the patch of ground next to the walk. A scrawny cat skittered past her, hissing disapproval that she stood in his way.
The cold, crisp air felt good even though she was shivering. She knew she should go indoors, all she was doing was postponing the moment she had to face Andrew. He’d be testy over the fact that supper wasn’t ready, even though she’d left him a note on the kitchen table explaining all she’d had to do. He was fond of saying, “Fit it in, but don’t make me suffer.” As yet, she hadn’t figured out how she was supposed to handle it all.
Ruby jerked to awareness when she heard steps behind her. She whirled in time to see Hugo Sinclaire coming up the walkway. When he was within a foot of her, she moved closer to her own walkway.
“I suppose you’re the ghost of Christmas past,” Hugo said cheerfully. “How are you, Ruby? I haven’t seen you for a while. Getting ready for Christmas, I see,” he said, pointing to the colored lights around the door.
“Where’s Dixie?” Ruby asked, her teeth chattering with cold. “The house is all dark.”
“She probably has one of her migraines. Light bothers her eyes,” he grumbled good-naturedly.
“She didn’t answer the door yesterday,” Ruby grated.
“She does that when she gets an attack.”
“She never said anything about migraines to me,” Ruby said coolly.
“Does that mean you girls tell each other all your little secrets? Is nothing private?” His tone had changed subtly, and Ruby knew he was staring at her in the darkness.
“If you have a secret, I think it’s safe to say it’s still a secret. Dixie isn’t exactly a confiding person.” She turned toward her door and then called over her shoulder, “By the way, Hugo, night before last I heard your radio when I was in my kitchen. That was some program you had on. I tried to get it on our radio but couldn’t get a clear station.” Chew on that, she thought nastily as she opened the door to her apartment. It was a bluff, but let him wonder.
“I’m home,” she said listlessly.
“It’s about time,” Andrew said cheerfully from the doorway in the kitchen. He wore an apron and was smacking his hands together gleefully. “I, madam, have prepared a culinary delight to tickle you from top to bottom. Actually, what I did was take everything in the fridge and mix it together with scrambled eggs. It looks like shit, but I put enough spices in it to give it this . . . different taste. I made some tea for you, and I picked up a ... chocolate cake from the commissary . . . for the one I ruined last night. I’m sorry, Ruby, I really am. About everything. I had no right to ... tell me you aren’t angry.”
“I’m not angry, Andrew. Just disappointed. Thanks for making dinner. I didn’t think things would take so long, but Mrs. Everly had her own way of doing things, and she made a point of saying officers’ wives, as a rule, don’t serve dinner till eight or so because it’s more stylish and cosmopolitan, whatever that means.”
“She said that?”
“Yes, she did. She said only peons eat at six or five or even seven. I think she meant lieutenants. Do you want to wait till eight to eat from now on?” she asked, knowing he would say yes.
“Sure, why not. I can have a snack when I get in. Listen, how about us taking in a movie tomorrow?”
“How can we do that if we’re going to eat at eight, and I have a meeting for the food drive? Christmas is only a few days away, and Mrs. Everly has my time booked solid. I suppose I could get out of it if I had to. Besides, Andrew, I think I’m coming down with some kind of bug.”
“Probably the same one Dixie has,” Andrew said cheerfully. “We’ll go after Christmas. You do what you have to do, and I’ll make dinner. It’s the least I can do. After dinner I want you to go to bed and snuggle up with one of your books. I’ll clear up here. I don’t want you sick for our first Christmas, and Alice Everly will never forgive me if you’re too sick to carry your share of the load.”
Ruby held back the sharp return that was on the edge of her tongue when she sat down at the table.
The food on her plate looked appetizing enough. It even had a sprig of parsley on the side with a curl of orange carrot. She smiled her appreciation to her husband. “It’s not bad.”
“Ruby, last night I said a lot of things and so did you. I went off half-cocked and got drunk and ... wasn’t very gentlemanly when I got home. Can we forget it and start over?”
There were so many things she wanted to say. She knew what the rules were now, so there was little point in saying anything. She nodded.
They made love twice that night and once again in the morning. Ruby made a pretense of enjoying the coupling and faked orgasm all three times.
Somehow Ruby managed to get through the holidays and the round of partying that went with the busy season. The Christmas she’d expected didn’t happen at all. She blamed her lack of holiday spirit on her tiredness, on Andrew’s attitude, and on Dixie’s absence at all the festive parties.
It was two days after New Year’s when Dixie knocked on Ruby’s front door, a plate of holiday cookies in her hand and a small gift-wrapped box in her pocket. She looked the same, Ruby thought as she hugged her warmly and invited her into the kitchen. She immediately pu
t on coffee, and as the first delectable aroma wafted through the kitchen, she bolted to the bathroom. When she returned Dixie was smiling.
“When are you due?” she asked warmly.
“For what?” Ruby asked stupidly.
“You know, the baby. Isn’t it wonderful? I’m pregnant, too. I just found out a week before Christmas. Then I came down with this horrendous migraine, the worst I’ve ever had. I mean I was literally laid up all through the holidays. Hugo didn’t want to go to all those parties, but I pushed him out the door. He had to go. You know how it is. Did you make your appointment yet? If not, let’s go together.”
Ruby’s head whirled in time with her stomach. My God, she was stupid. As the coffee perked, she walked over to the calendar and flipped the pages back to November. With her finger she counted off the days. How could she have been so unbelievably stupid? “Oh, God,” she groaned. “If you hadn’t come over here, Dixie, I’d still be thinking I had some kind of flu or something. I’m pregnant!” she yelped.
“You didn’t know? Well, congratulations!” Dixie laughed. “I hope this one takes. I’ve had three miscarriages. What do you want, a boy or a girl?”
Taken off guard with Dixie’s words, Ruby blurted out, “A boy. But a girl would be nice. Oh, I don’t care.” Later she would add up the times and remember each and every word Dixie said.
“Is Hugo happy about it?”
“Very happy. The other three times we were transferred, and I miscarried as soon as we got settled. It must have been the moves. They’re never pleasant, with all that bending and lifting. It doesn’t look like we’ll be transferred this time, though. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. I’d like a boy, but it doesn’t really matter, as long as the baby is healthy.”
“How come you guys keep transferring? Everyone else seems planted for at least a year, mostly two from what I can gather.”
Dixie shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “You get orders and you leave, it’s that simple. We’ve moved a total of seven times in eight years. You learn to live with it.” Ruby found her friend’s words strange. She kept quiet, but there was something very wrong here.
Seasons of Her Life Page 24