Seasons of Her Life

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Seasons of Her Life Page 64

by Fern Michaels


  She moved faster than usual. She walked the dogs, fed them, and ate some breakfast. She dressed in a pair of slacks and a pullover sweater. She looked good enough to walk through the lobby of the Plaza. She’d even hired a limo to take her from the hotel to the show.

  Promptly at two o’clock, Ruby entered the showroom on Seventh Avenue. She marched to the front row of seats where Nola had said she was to sit. A young man pointed to the middle of the row and whispered, “Nola said she wants you in her direct line of vision. I don’t know who’s prettier, you or the dress,” he said, his eyes full of admiration. Damn, she felt good.

  Ruby looked around. She knew diddly-squat about the fashion business, but if this turnout for Nola was any indication of success, then Nola was a success.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, Miss Nola Quantrell,” the young man said to the audience. Everyone clapped, Ruby the loudest.

  And there she was, done up in feathers and combs, her dress made from something that looked like handkerchiefs all sewed together at crazy angles. She looked wonderful, Ruby thought.

  The show moved swiftly, with Nola introducing each outfit. Ruby risked a look around. The buyers were all scribbling furiously. That had to be good; they were going to buy. She looked up and gave Nola a jaunty thumbs-up, which Nola returned.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, my last design. I was going to show you something else entirely until . . . until the beginning of the show when I ... bear with me a minute, ladies and gentlemen.” Ruby frowned, as Nola walked off the stage. Was something wrong?

  The touch on her arm was feather-light. “Come with me, Ruby,” Nola said quietly. “I can’t believe you saved . . . God, Ruby, I’m going to bawl right here any minute.”

  “Like hell you are,” Ruby said, following Nola to the back of the makeshift stage.

  Her arm around Ruby’s shoulders, Nola led her to the center of the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Ruby Blue. For those of you who don’t know Ruby Blue, let me tell you she is half of Mrs. Sugar, the famous cookie maker.” She had the audience’s attention.

  “Years ago, when I only dreamed about being a designer, I met Ruby Blue. Of course, she was Ruby Connors in those days. I worked hard, but I couldn’t make it. I found myself in dire straits and Ruby . . . Ruby gave me all the money she had for me to get back home. I couldn’t just take her money, so she told me to sign a design I’d given her. She said . . . she said she knew one day I’d be a famous designer. She believed in me when no one else did. And here she is, ladies and gentlemen, in that same dress I designed more years ago than I care to remember. What I do remember saying is that if she ever had it made up to be sure and use blue material.” Then Nola whispered, “Strut, Ruby, around and around, and when you come to a stop, cross your ankles.”

  Shaking and trembling, Ruby strutted.

  The audience clapped loud and long as Ruby took up her stance next to Nola. The buyers’ hands went in the air, a sign they wanted to purchase the dress Ruby was wearing. Nola smiled at Ruby before she said, “Sorry, this is not for sale. It’s the only one-of-a-kind Nola Quantrell design in the world, and this lady, this friend, deserves the best I have to give. Thank you all for coming today.”

  Nola pushed and shoved Ruby free of the models and the people clamoring backstage. “C’mon, we’re getting out of here. Other people can handle all this. It’s just you and me, kiddo, so let’s move. We have a lot of catching-up to do. A lot of I’m sorry to get out of the way. Jesus, Ruby, I cannot . . . I will never forgot . . . how in the hell . . . God, I’m glad to see you.”

  In the middle of Seventh Avenue, with the vendors moving their wares while delivery trucks inched their way around them, Ruby and Nola hugged one another, tears streaming down their cheeks.

  “I think this is the second best day of my life,” Nola said tearfully.

  “My second best day, too,” Ruby said.

  Neither woman asked the other what the best day was. It simply wasn’t important.

  In Nola’s apartment, over glasses of wine, the two women curled up on the floor on piles of cushions. “Tell me everything,” Nola said. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. I prayed, Ruby, that you would.”

  “I wasn’t going to at first. I mean, part of me wanted to come, but I don’t think I would have. I was a different person then. I expected too much, couldn’t accept other people for their weaknesses as well as their strengths. They could never be brave enough, strong enough, fair enough, good enough. They could never do enough to prove they really loved me. It’s all mixed up, but I’m sorting it out. Part of it, I know, stems from my childhood and my parents, and I’m working on that, too. It seems,” Ruby said, “my only happiness, my only peaceful times, my only contented times, are when I’m doing something for other people. It’s when I start insisting other people do things for me that I screw up. That’s when I start making demands on everyone to live up to my expectations. I want the world to love me my way, and that’s not always possible.

  “What made me figure it all out was ... I got these pets that used to belong to someone else and they didn’t . . . they didn’t like me. God, I tried so hard to make them like me. I let them shit all over the house, I cooked special food for them, and gave them the best of everything, and still they wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I needed someone to ... love me. And I blamed them when they couldn’t. I was blind to the fact that they were frightened.... That was when I took a good long look at myself. Soul-searching is not an easy thing to do. The only times I didn’t screw up was when I was giving without expecting anything back. I got such . . . Lord, I can’t describe the feelings . . . I just felt good that I was able to make someone happy. That’s why I loved giving to the orphans at your parents’ house. In fact, I thought your parents were perfect. And always in the back of my mind was the thought that I might end up completely unloved and unloving, like my parents. I couldn’t let go, it was always there. When you seemed to turn on your parents I ... I just couldn’t understand. But now I’d like us to be friends, Nola. I mean real friends, like we used to be. If we start over, I think we can do it. If you’re willing, that is.” Nola nodded, her eyes glistening. Ruby beamed from ear to ear. “Now, tell me about Nola Quantrell.”

  “Nola Quantrell is a liar, Ruby. She lied to you from the git-go. The Nola you thought you knew hated those orphans, hated the farm life, hated doing without, hated going home pregnant. I don’t know who I thought I was that I should have had something better. You want to talk about guilt, that’s my middle name. I wanted to write you so many times, but I knew you wouldn’t be able to accept who you thought I was. One summer, Ruby, we didn’t have anything to eat except fried potatoes, cucumbers, and bacon. Everyone got one slice of bacon. Sometimes the potatoes were baked or mashed. Sometimes the cucumbers were creamed, sometimes they were in vinegar. I swore to myself I would never eat those things again. One whole summer, Ruby. My father got laid off that year and they wouldn’t take welfare. I made up all those stories about how wonderful it was and you ate it up and then I couldn’t tell you the truth. I’m glad you sent those things. I mean that. But my parents weren’t all that wonderful, either. They never forgave me for having my son out of wedlock. It was my father who tracked Alex down. It was my parents who insisted on the marriage. They wanted to make an honest woman of me and to get me and the baby out of the house. I had no choices at the time. At least I didn’t think so. I’ve learned since that you always have choices if you have the guts to act on them.

  “Years later, when I started to earn money, I did send it home. Grudgingly, I admit. I tried to keep track of everyone, but every time one batch of orphans left, another one came in. At one point there were twenty-one. For so long I didn’t understand. All those kids, the simple life, was what made my parents happy. You’re like them, Ruby. I was selfish. I’m still selfish. I guess I will always be selfish,” Nola said, miserable.

  “No, you’re not. If you were selfish, you would have sold
my dress right off my back,” Ruby giggled.

  “You better hang on to it,” Nola said, wiping her tears.

  “We fucked up, Nola.”

  “Where did you learn to use such language?” Nola demanded.

  “Andrew. You should hear the words I know.”

  “How is Andrew?”

  “Andrew is fine. We’re actually friends these days. With Andrew you know where you stand. I know now that he’d go to the wall for me if I needed him to. For a long time I didn’t know that. We’re honest with each other. What about Alex?”

  “He’s dead. I cried a lot when I found out. We never should have gotten married. It was a sexual thing with us. Better to have left it at that. My son is great. We’re good friends. He’s in California. He pretty much runs Nq Ltd. He does a hell of a job, too.”

  “What about your nervous breakdown?”

  “One day I couldn’t get up. I didn’t want to get up. I was carrying around all this guilt, and that day it finally got too heavy for me to carry. I’ve been seeing a shrink for a long time now. I need . . . Ruby, I need to share something with you. I haven’t told anyone. I haven’t even told the shrink and I know that’s stupid, but . . . I’m one of the orphans. I was never a real Quantrell. My parents never had any children. I never knew until my parents died. There were seventy-two children at my mother’s funeral. My dad died first. My sister, the girl I thought was my sister, was four years older than me and she said she remembered the day they brought me home. I wasn’t real, Ruby. I wasn’t me. I felt so cheated. And then I tried to justify my attitude by saying somehow down deep I knew it all along, but I didn’t know. I thought I belonged. I thought I was their child.”

  Ruby stretched out her arms. Nola laid her head on Ruby’s shoulder. “I know, I’m going to tell the shrink. You’re working through your problem and I’ll work through mine. Do you think we can call one another with progress reports from time to time? You’ll listen, won’t you, Ruby?”

  “Only if you listen to me.” They sniffed and cried, and blew their noses together, smiling through their tears. “I knew we’d always be friends. We got sidetracked for a while, but I think we’re both going to make it,” Ruby said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Andy sat in his makeshift trailer on the sanctuary building site, looking at the guest list for his mother’s surprise birthday party. He’d dragged his butt finishing the sanctuary to make it coincide with the party. He’d called just about everyone: the attorneys in New York, Silas Ridgely, Nola, his father, the entire work force at Mrs. Sugar’s, and all the names he’d gotten from his mother’s address book, which he’d snatched. He’d delayed calling Martha, but his father said, “Go ahead and just do it, Andy.” Still, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about his two aunts, either, but he had called them. Neither had confirmed they would attend, but they hadn’t said they wouldn’t. The Semolina brothers and cousins, including Angus Webster, would definitely be there.

  His biggest problem right now was getting his mother away from the house a few days before the party so the new barn could be decorated. He’d been flirting with the idea of an emergency call from the corporate headquarters, saying the workforce was going on strike. That alone would mandate his mother going down to check it out. He could rig a phony picket line with no sweat. The minute things got sticky, they would march off in disgust, hop on a bus he would provide, and head for the party. Olga would stay behind to tell his mother there was an emergency back at the farm. If there was one thing his mother had always been good at, it was doing two things at once.

  His slender fingers drummed on the Formica desktop in the grungy work trailer. It was hard to believe a whole year had gone by since his mother had first approached him with the idea of the sanctuary. It was almost as hard for him to believe his mother was fifty-five.

  He thought about Biddy and Mikey when they saw the cottage last week. Biddy had almost cried; Mikey did cry. The boy couldn’t believe he was going to have his own room. Andy had felt tears mist his own eyes.

  The new furniture was being delivered today, and his mother was straw-bossing the installation of everything. He’d seen her whiz by several hours ago, the dogs yapping in the back of the car, the cat perched on her shoulder. The way the tail end of the Rover had been dragging, he knew it was loaded with staples, people food, and at least a quarter ton of dog food.

  She’d been so excited when she told him how she was decorating the room for Mikey. She’d ordered custom-made wallpaper with all the woodland characters and some of her personal favorites: the Lady and the Tramp, Tom and Jerry. In the center of the ceiling, a sappy-eyed cow jumped over a moon. “For the nights when Mikey can’t sleep,” his mother had said.

  The small kitchen was a compact marvel, the family area held a stereo, a television, VCR, and shelves of VCR tapes for Mikey and Biddy.

  There were new clothes in the closets and drawers. For winter, warm down jackets, flannel shirts, long underwear, heavy boots, and shoes. Also warm caps and gloves for Mikey. Summer wear was bright and colorful; Mikey and Biddy both liked bright colors.

  Andy found himself laughing aloud. Once his mother got into something, she went all the way. He looked at his watch. Time to get over to the cottage. He’d told Biddy and Mikey to meet him there at noon. He thought he could hear Biddy’s ancient truck rattling across the field. He could hardly wait for Biddy to see the spanking-new truck that had been delivered forty minutes earlier.

  This time they did cry, all of them. With Sam under his left arm, Fred under his right, and Doozie on his shoulder, Mikey walked around his new home, tears streaming down his cheeks. They watched him from the doorway while he bounced on his new bed; he touched his new robe hanging over the bottom, smiled when he poked at his new slippers and sneakers alongside the night table. They giggled when he looked in his own mirror, preened for a minute, pointed to himself, and said, “I hasmome.”

  “You sure are handsome.” Ruby smiled. His head bobbed excitedly.

  “Mine?”

  “All yours!” Ruby agreed.

  Mikey pointed to Sam, Fred, and Doozie. “Mine?” he grinned devilishly.

  “No way.” Ruby grinned.

  “Ish joke,” Mikey said, falling back on the bed, the dogs on top of him.

  “Some joke. I think they like you, Mikey. They remember the way you rubbed their bellies when they were hungry. They didn’t forget you,” Ruby said quietly.

  “Not forget.” It was said so clearly, Ruby’s eyebrows shot upward.

  She tousled the boy’s hair before she bent down to kiss his cheek.

  “No one ever forgets the things that are important, Mikey.”

  Mikey sat up on the bed. “Im-ptant. No cages.”

  “Damn right, kiddo. There aren’t going to be any cages in our place,” Andy said, slapping Mikey on the back. The boy poked him playfully.

  “You did real good, Ma,” Andy stage-whispered.

  “I’d like to second that,” Biddy said gruffly. “I don’t know what to say. It’s like a dream come true.”

  “Do you think Agatha Penny would approve, Mr. Bidwell?” Ruby asked anxiously.

  “Agatha would approve, most definitely. You’ve always called me Mr. Bidwell, Mrs. Blue. Everyone calls me Biddy. Don’t you think it’s time for you to call me Biddy, too?”

  Ruby was about to say yes until she saw Biddy’s eyes. “Oh, I can’t do that, Mr. Bidwell. I have too much respect for you.” She knew no one had ever called Biddy Mr. Bidwell but her. “I hope it doesn’t offend you.”

  “Not at all, Mrs. Blue. I rather like it.” The little man grinned.

  Ruby looked discreetly away, pretending not to see the old man’s glistening eyes. “So, Mr. Bidwell, what do you think of the other building, the one where you and Mikey will be spending most of your time? Andy did a wonderful job, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he sure did. I didn’t know too much about arke-teks until he explained what he was trying to do.
Me and Mikey, we like it a lot. Folks around here are sure going to be surprised when we open up.”

  “Folks around here are already surprised.” Andy guffawed. “The Semolina brothers and cousins come by at least once a week to check on our progress. They told me, mind you they told me this to my face just a few weeks ago, that for a city whipper-snapper, I knew my business, even though I never lift a hammer. It was a real compliment.”

  Ruby smiled. “Well, I guess I better get back to the house. I want to put a roast in the oven for you guys and I promised my menagerie I’d make them cheeseburgers for dinner.”

  “Ma,” Andy whispered, “aren’t you forgetting something? The barn,” he whispered a second time.

  “Oh, yes, the barn. Mr. Bidwell, there’s something in the barn you might want to take back to the shelter with you.”

  “Do you think he’ll like it?” Ruby said anxiously while she waited for Biddy to open the barn doors.

  “Ma, he’s going to love it. Especially the sign on the door. Now, that was a good idea.”

  Biddy walked back into the sunshine and stared at Andy and Ruby. “Is this vehicle for me and Mikey?” he asked, a catch in his voice.

  “Yes, it is, Mr. Bidwell. I think it goes well with that brand-new building, don’t you? Since none of us knows what Mikey’s last name is I ... I hope you don’t mind if his name is first.”

  “I like it. Mikey would, too, if he could read. Has a ring to it. THE MIKEY/BIDWELL ANIMAL SHELTER, LORDS VALLEY, PA.”

  Andy tossed Biddy the keys.

  “We put a block on the gas pedal and brake,” Andy said.

  “I feel like a kid with a new bike. Mikey!” he bellowed.

  Andy and Ruby watched till Biddy and the new truck disappeared behind the rise.

  “I just figured out something a little while ago,” he said. “Most people give because they get something in return. You aren’t going to get a thing for this, no writeoff, no nothing.”

 

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