A lump rose in Ruby’s throat. “Like Gerald?”
Miriam pulled her into a hug. “Like Gerald. I’ll ask, too. Let’s see what He says.”
Ruby glanced up at the windows. Lord, please.
41
Gerald woke early the next morning, the bright sunlight pouring in his bedroom windows. He’d been too exhausted to draw the drapes. He stretched, accidentally knocking half the pillows off the bed. Every sound seemed magnified as he rummaged about the room, pulling on clean clothes and retrieving the Bible from the bedside table. The morning was too inviting to spend it lounging in bed. He’d had enough of sick beds for a lifetime—however long it might be.
Gerald padded down the stairs and out the back door, inching it closed behind him. He listened until the latch clicked into place. The sun’s rays did little to warm the dawn air, but the day promised to be pleasant. He tossed a burlap bag from the garden shed across the iron bench, settling down onto its hard surface and letting the Bible fall open on his lap.
His bookmark noted the psalm Dee had requested for her funeral. He ran a finger over the words, reading them to the gnarled trunks of the grapevines. “Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is: that I may know how frail I am.” Gerald’s voice cracked, the words rattling his soul, much like they had the day he read them over Dee’s grave. “Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity.” He pressed his lips together, scanning the next few sentences until his eyes settled on the seventh verse. And now, Lord, what wait I for? My hope is in thee.
He closed the Bible, leaving his bandaged hand inside to hold the page. I place my hope in Your plan, Lord. I only wish I knew what it entailed.
Otto appeared, as if out of nowhere, placing cold paws against Gerald’s legs and looking up at him with a doggy smile.
Gerald jerked his head up, scanning the yard.
Ruby balanced a tray on one arm as she trailed down the porch steps and across the brick path toward him.
Gerald stood. “I didn’t mean to wake anyone.” He reached a hand out to help her with the tray. She’d made little effort to spend time with him, outside of nursing, since he’d recovered from diphtheria. Seeing her here, within arm’s reach, tortured his resolve.
She pulled the tray close. “No, I have it. You relax. No lifting until your doctor approves.”
He grunted. “My doctor is a fussbudget. And he’s somewhere in the redwoods, deliriously happy.”
Ruby’s cheeks pinked. She placed the items between them on the bench while Otto wandered off to explore the garden.
He stared down at the plates. “Wedding cake? For breakfast?”
She shrugged. “Let Robert and Abby enjoy their happiness. We’ll enjoy their cake.”
A laugh bubbled up from his chest, her presence a tonic to his tattered spirits. “I like the way you think.” He claimed a fork and passed a second one to her.
She took a large bite, a smear of buttercream icing clinging to her lip. “Oh, tell me this is what Heaven will be like.”
He chuckled, fighting the urge to brush the sweet crumbs from her chin. “Better.” After a few bites of cake, he cradled a cup of tea in his bandaged palm, wisps of fragrant steam lifting into the chilled air.
She picked a few last crumbs from her dish and lowered the plate to her lap. “Do you think of it often?”
He glanced up, an eyebrow cocked. “Of what, exactly? Heaven?”
“No.” She nodded to where he gripped the cup. “What life will be like, after your surgery? It must be difficult to imagine.”
Gerald shifted the cup back to the tray and laid the hand in his lap. “It’s been with me my whole life.” He flexed a finger each in turn. “I’ve performed amputations on others. I never considered . . .” He curled the fingers toward his palm.
“But it means you can live?”
He met her gaze for a moment before looking away, gauging his words. “There’s a decent chance. Robert believes the cancer is contained in the hand.”
“Then why are you having part of the arm . . .” She paused.
“Say it.” His stomach churned. “If no one else can say it, how can I?”
“Why are you having so much of the arm amputated?”
He lowered his gaze. “To be safe. There are a few suspicious spots on the wrist as well. The burn covered the skin up to here.” He rolled back his sleeve, exposing a stretch of puckered skin along the inside of his wrist. “Better to get ahead of the cancer.”
Ruby’s eyes glistened. “All because of the X-rays?”
“Ironic, isn’t it? My reward for trying to help people.”
Ruby grasped the tray and lowered it to the ground.
Gerald tensed as she slid closer along the bench.
With a fingertip, she traced the skin on his exposed wrist. Like butterfly wings, she ran her touch along the heel of his hand and across the bandages to his fingers.
Gerald’s pulse hammered. He tore his gaze from her touch and glanced at her face.
A single tear glistened on her cheek. “They would thank you—all those people you’ve helped.” She lifted her chin, her blue-eyed gaze holding his captive. “And the people who will learn from what you’ve done. There may still be a valid treatment in this.”
He closed his fingers over hers, the sweetness of her touch too enticing. “If someone can make it safe.”
“Will you and Robert continue the study?”
“I’m done with it. I can’t speak for Robert. I’ll hand my responsibilities over to Dr. Lawrence.” He reveled in the warmth of her skin, unable to convince himself to pull away. “I’m not the only one to suffer ill effects. Robert’s found other cases in the literature. Lawrence is looking into safety protocols.”
“Robert worked with the same equipment. Will he have problems, too?”
“We have no way of knowing.” He shook his head. “It’s in God’s hands.”
She pulled her lower lip in for a brief moment as she gazed into his eyes. “So are we.”
His stomach tightened and he dropped her grip like a live wire. “Ruby, no. We can’t—”
“Are you one to argue with the Lord?”
A lump grew in his throat. “Of course not.”
Ruby reached for his hand a second time, pulling it to her lap and opening his grasp. “A gypsy woman once told me she could read my palm.”
“You know better.”
“Listen to me.” She tugged on the bandage, unwinding it until his disfigured palm lay exposed. “You told me to trust God.” She ran a finger along the ragged edges of the wound. “If your life’s plans are not written here, in these scars, where are they?”
Pain filtered through his chest, his heart beating like a prisoner rattling the bars of his cell. He couldn’t let her hope—it wasn’t fair. “In God’s hands.”
“So are mine.” She curled his fingers over his palm and drew the hand up to her cheek. “Why can’t we live those plans together? Unless God tells us otherwise?”
“Ruby—you’ve already lost one man.”
The hint of a smile toyed around her lips. “And you think I’m not strong enough to live through a second?” She kissed his knuckles, rubbing her cheek against the back of his fingers. “You might be right. But, as my Scripture-quoting father used to say whenever things got tough—‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.’”
He touched her jaw. “I can’t ask you to.”
“You’re not asking. I am.”
His hand paused, midstroke. “You are . . . what?”
Ruby leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his lips before a smile spread across her own. She touched her forehead to his. “Asking you to marry me.”
Gerald pulled back, even as his lips hungered for more. “No.” He sprang up from the bench, the toe of his shoe catching the tray and sending dishes scattering across the brick path.
She rose, slowly. “I want to marry you. One arm, two arms, I don’t care. A month, a year?” Her eyes filled with tears. “How long is a lifetime? None of us knows. I’ll cherish every minute with you.”
He turned away, his heart pounding. Lord, is this Your answer? A rush of energy spread through his fingers, creeping up his arms and flooding his lungs. He blinked back hot tears. Gerald swung back around, grasped Ruby’s shoulders, and pulled her to his chest. “Every minute—even if they’re few?”
“Each one will be precious.”
He kissed her, the warmth of her lips sending tremors through his soul. Gerald brushed his cheek along hers, his hands sweeping up the curve of her spine. “I love you. You know that?”
“I hope so after such a kiss.”
He chuckled, the sound unfamiliar and rusty. “I’d best be careful. Too many of those could be dangerous.” He smiled, drawing her in for another kiss. “But worth it.”
She ran her lips along his jaw, before nuzzling her head between his chin and shoulder. “Let’s stay like this, always.”
“We can’t.”
She sighed. “Why not?”
“We’re not married. Eventually someone will talk.”
She laughed, a musical sound lifting into the cool morning air.
“But we can rectify the situation.” He stepped back and gestured for her to sit.
“What are you doing?”
Gerald balled his fists, the weariness settling in before he was ready. Just one more minute, Lord. He lowered himself to a kneeling position before Ruby, bracing himself with one hand against the iron bench.
Her eyes widened. She gripped his shoulders as if to provide extra stability.
God’s strength flowed into his bent knees. “Ruby King Marshall, will you marry this . . . this broken man?”
Ruby grinned, wiping tears with the back of her hand. “I’d have none other.” She tugged on his arm. “Now get up off the ground while you still can. I can’t believe you managed it.” She laughed as he fell back on the seat.
He stroked the back of her head, the texture of her hair tempting him to pull a few hairpins and see what happened. “I can’t believe I did, either.” He pressed his lips to hers again, as if her kisses renewed his energy. “Let’s make the wedding soon.”
“Very soon.” Ruby squeezed his arm.
A squeal from the house froze them both. The back door creaked open. The dog yipped from the rose garden, streaking across the yard to the porch.
“Abby and Robert are back already?” Ruby lowered her chin, resting her forehead against his jaw.
Gerald nodded. “Sounds like it. They must have spotted us.”
Ruby pressed a hand to her temple. “Window.”
“We’ll get draperies. Heavy draperies.”
“I’ll sew them myself.”
Movement from the house suggested they’d soon be joined by well-wishers. Gerald lifted Ruby’s chin, determined to claim a final kiss before they were interrupted. Whether they had a few months or a lifetime, he was determined not to waste a single God-given moment.
Group Discussion Guide
1. Ruby is terrified of automobiles. Do you struggle with irrational fears? How far out of the way do you go to avoid these triggers? Have you ever been tempted to face them head-on, like Ruby does when she learns to drive?
2. Ruby is afraid to love again because she fears grieving a second time. What frightens you the most about love?
3. Gerald tells Ruby he goes to the Golden Gate vista when he’s feeling discouraged. What do you like to do when you’re feeling overwhelmed?
4. Gerald uses the image of the water flowing between the headlands as a way to describe a life of trusting in yourself and a life focused on trusting in God. Are you currently paddling in the tumultuous waters, or are you secure in knowing God as your rock? Has it always been like this for you? How has it changed your outlook on life’s events?
5. Ruby views marriage as a blending of two fabrics, creating “layers of depth and feeling never existing before.”
If you are married—how have you seen this blending at work? How are you and your spouse different? How are you similar? Do you balance each other, or do the seams sometimes feel strained?
If you’re single, how do you imagine this would work? What qualities would you seek in a spouse? What qualities do you bring to the table?
6. Mae Larkspur quotes part of Isaiah 61:3: “To give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.” What have been the “ashes” in your life? Have you seen God working beauty, joy, or praise into these situations? (Don’t be discouraged, He may not have done it yet.)
7. Mae also says, “God created us to be complex beings, made in His image. Our hearts are like a pantry overflowing with spices, ready to season our lives. Imagine how bland life would be minus their flavor.” Which of life’s flavors (emotions) would you be tempted to leave out of your recipe?
8. Gerald Larkspur reminds us, “God doesn’t always choose the easy road for us. But He always chooses the best path.” Has God ever led you down a difficult road? How did you respond at the time?
9. Gerald and Robert have developed such a deep friendship, Ruby says they are closer than brothers. Do you have a friend who is like a brother or a sister to you? How long has it taken you to develop that level of friendship?
10. Ruby makes a difficult choice near the end of the book—choosing to marry Gerald even though he’s fighting cancer. Did you agree with her choice? Would you have done the same? What do you think the future holds for them?
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We hope you’ve enjoyed Karen Barnett’s Beyond the Ashes, and that you’ll continue to read her Golden Gate Chronicles. Here’s a brief excerpt from book 3 of the series, Through the Shadows.
Sacramento, California
June 1908
Elizabeth King held her fingers against the ivory keys, refusing to stir as the final chord rang through the stillness of the parlor. Were God ever to speak to her, Elizabeth imagined it would be in the precious instant after a last note died away and before an audience responded. The moment preserved a holy space, as if the breath of divinity hung in the air.
No voice arrived today, but there was no audience either. She ran her fingertips silently along the cool surface, the black and white pattern softening as her eyes blurred with tears. As if God would converse with the likes of her, anyway.
After three years of intense instruction, every note conjured Tobias’s memory—his touch. She sprang from the stool and stalked to the window, staring out at the darkening clouds. She couldn’t let her mind travel to those memories. Before she knew it, she’d be at his door.
“Turn your back on me, and you’re finished. You’ll never perform again.”
She’d done the right thing. So why did the shame still cling, like a vine curling around her soul?
Her mother swept into the room, a cream-colored apron tied over her flowered dress. “Elizabeth—you aren’t dressed yet?”
Elizabeth pulled her gaze from the window. “Dressed?”
“Have you forgotten? Mr. McKinley is joining us for supper. I’ve been trying to get the attorney to come here from San Francisco for months.”
The man’s name sent a shiver along Elizabeth’s skin, like a discordant note in the middle of a Bach concerto. Of course, she’d forgotten—if she’d remembered, she’d have left earlier. “I promised Lillian I would attend the suffrage meeting with her this evening.”
“You attend too many of those silly political gatherings.
They’ve ruined you for polite society.”
“Mother, you know I’ve never been much good at ‘polite society.’ That’s your arena.”
“Your father spoiled all of you children. I thought you, being the youngest, might turn out all right.”
A lump formed in Elizabeth’s throat. Even though she’d been young when he passed away, her father’s determination and generous nature shaped her heart. “Your talent is a gift from God, Elizabeth. It brings Him glory.” Not anymore.
“Hurry, now. Mr. McKinley will be here soon.”
No escape. Perhaps she could make excuses after supper. Elizabeth climbed the stairs to her room and dug through the wardrobe for a suitable dress. She couldn’t choose anything too nice for the cantankerous old lawyer.
Her fingers lingered on her favorite silk gown. The navy blue had gleamed under the auditorium’s electric lights as she’d curtsied to a large crowd. Elizabeth shoved it back and pulled out a russet wool skirt and matching vest, instead. Her stage days were past. All she had to look forward to were dull evenings in the company of stodgy attorneys. She might as well dress the part.
Her sister, Ruby, had once described Silas McKinley as being akin to a moray eel, and the image cemented itself in Elizabeth’s mind. They hadn’t seen him in over a year—not since he divulged that most of her late father’s assets had been lost in the fires following the San Francisco earthquake.
With her musical dreams crumbling about her ears and the family in financial crisis, Elizabeth needed a new direction for her life—and fast. Perhaps this evening’s suffrage meeting would give her some ideas.
Beyond the Ashes Page 31