“Let her off the leash, Ruby. That’s not how cats live.”
“But what if something happens to her?”
He looked at her. “Things happen to people and animals all the time, but you can’t force her to live a life that isn’t natural to her.”
Ruby thought of the darkness, the kitten dashing toward her, and the coyote’s eyes glowing. “This kitten came to me,” she said, “specifically me, in the middle of the night, and my code of honor says I am going to protect her.”
“Fair enough.”
He started to turn away, but Ruby asked, “Don’t the feral cats eat the chickens?”
“They do,” he said, pausing. “You can always tell a cat’s been at the chickens by the parts they eat—the breast and thighs.”
Ruby laughed. “Kentucky Fried Chicken.”
“Right. Other animals leave different calling cards.” He tugged off his gloves and tucked them into his back pocket, pulled off the hat, and wiped his sweaty forehead. “Skunks like the head and stomach. Coyotes leave no trace.” He warmed to his subject, eyes glinting. “Raccoons, though, are the worst. They stick their hands through the slats in the cages, and when a chicken comes close to see what it is, they grab the chicken by the throat and yank it right out of the cage.” He used his hand to illustrate. “Then they take it down to the river to wash it.”
“Ugh,” Ruby said, feeling her belly roil. The urge to puke was vivid and urgent. She raised a finger, dashed to the edge of the meadow, and barfed. Instantly, her belly felt better. “Sorry,” she said as she returned, wiping her mouth.
Noah stood with his arms crossed. His waist was narrow, his forearms corded with powerful muscle, and his hair gleamed in the sun. For the first time in about a hundred years, she thought about what a man other than Liam might look like naked, or at least shirtless.
He raised an eyebrow. “Pretty delicate, aren’t you?”
She waved a hand. “It’s not that. Just pregnant.”
“Ah. That explains a lot.”
She gave him a frown. “Like what?”
He grinned, and it was the first time she’d seen him smile. It wasn’t that it was dazzling but the opposite—it was crooked, offsetting the intimidating perfection of his face. A blast of pure female hormonal appreciation rushed right through her middle.
“Just things,” he said.
Seriously? she thought. This was what Lavender talked about, that he was so beautiful that women constantly threw themselves at him, then got mad when he didn’t see them or acted aloof.
The kitten, weary of butterflies, came ambling out of the grass and rubbed against Ruby’s legs. She scooped her up and the kitten butted against her chin. “There’s my sweetheart,” Ruby cooed. “I bet you want more tuna fish, don’t you?”
“You gave her tuna? Aren’t you vegan?”
“Cats aren’t vegan, silly. They’ll die if they don’t get protein.”
He laughed softly. “Good to know.”
“Will you take a picture of me and the Ninja Girl?” Ruby pulled her phone out of her back pocket and passed it over, posing for the camera by holding the cat up to her face.
He held the phone sideways, stepped forward, and clicked, then waited for it to come up. He looked at it for a minute, then frowned. “Let me try again.” Ruby smiled, kissing the kitten, who only endured it. This time, Noah gave a nod. “Good one.” He passed the phone back. “For your blog? Your boyfriend?”
“More boring than that: my dad. He worries.” Holding the cat easily on her shoulder, she messaged the picture to her father. Me & Ninja Girl at the farm. Pretty, huh?
“That’s what dads do, I guess.”
A truck rumbled into the driveway in front of the shop, pulling a shiny retro Airstream. “Ginny!” Ruby squealed. She put the cat down, then dithered about whether to put her in the trailer. The kitten had settled down to lick a paw, and Ruby picked her up, kissed her hot, shiny side, and put her in the camper. “I’ll be back, sweetie.”
She glanced at Noah, but he didn’t say anything, only gave her that unreadable gaze. Ruby turned and dashed down the hill, feeling a stitch in her side almost immediately. She slowed to a walk. The truck pulled around the circle, the navigation excellent and practiced.
It was only as she grew closer that she realized that this Airstream was not a little Bambi but a solid, tour-the-world size, with two doors and a lot of windows. Ginny had worried about the towing capacity of her Jeep, which was not this big red Ford truck that looked as if it could haul twice again as much. The angle of light made it impossible to see into the truck, even when Ruby shaded her eyes.
Lavender came from the direction of the cottage, her hands still gloved in green cotton. She carried a spade and lifted it to shield her eyes. “That can’t be Ginny.”
Ruby shook her head, conscious of Noah joining them, too. They all waited as the truck doors opened and a very tall, long-legged girl leapt to the ground. Her dark hair was braided away from her face and high cheekbones, and the braids were wrapped with leather. Her arms were circled with beaded bracelets and she wore moccasins on her feet, but, even so, Ruby didn’t put it together until a woman came around the truck. She was as petite as the girl was tall, her skin much, much darker, the glossy color of pecans. She moved with the effortless elegance of the prima ballerina she’d once been. “Surprise!” she cried. “We decided to make it after all.”
“Valerie!” Ruby exclaimed, and looked back to the girl, who was nearly unrecognizable in her Native American guise. “Hannah. I didn’t recognize you.”
The girl gave a nod beneath hooded eyes, but Ruby saw the exact instant she laid eyes on Noah. Her nostrils flared, she cocked her chin sideways to hide her gaze, and she tossed her head. “Hi,” she said with enormous ennui.
Ruby glanced at Valerie with one eyebrow raised. Valerie gave a subtle roll of her eyes—I told you, guys!—and said, “Give me a hug, beautiful girl. And tell me how you are.”
They all hugged and kissed, and Valerie stood back. “Where’s Ginny? I thought she’d be here by now.”
“Not until Friday.”
Ruby felt an inexplicable wave of worry wash over her, a wave that ended up—of course—in her belly. And of course she had to barf. She dashed over and puked in the weeds. She was also sick of that part—the way it came on so fiercely. “Damn it!” she cried, wiping her mouth. “I’m so tired of throwing up!”
“Are you sick?” Valerie asked with alarm.
“No,” Lavender said, looping a gentle arm around Ruby’s shoulders. “Let’s head inside and get some food for some lunch, shall we? We’ll tell you everything.” With a gentle nudge, she set Ruby free in the direction of the cottage and gathered Hannah under her long arm. The girl was nearly as tall as she was.
“Very glad to see you. I can’t wait to hear about your travels through the reservations.”
“Nations,” Hannah said, easing away to walk ahead of them.
Valerie sighed. Under her breath she said, “It’s been a long trip.”
“Never mind,” Lavender said. “You’re here now. And we are thrilled.”
Noah hauled the table and chairs out to a flat grassy spot dotted with tiny daisies. A big willow tree stretched its arms over the cottage and yard, and a circle of daisies bloomed at the foot of it.
Valerie and Lavender sliced cucumbers and pickles and tomatoes, arranged plates with turkey and hard-boiled eggs, hummus and celery and fresh red peppers. Hannah was forced into service, her feet in the soft leather shoes slapping against the wooden floors to underscore her huffy protestations. Ruby made a watermelon and avocado salad from the produce they’d picked up in McMinnville, and when Hannah raised an eyebrow in disgust, Ruby said, “You’ll see. It’s great.”
Ruby found herself watching the girl. Whenever Noah came into the room, Hannah straightened almost haughtily, showing off a profile as sharp and clean as the face on a coin. Endearingly, she kept her slim shoulders hunched over a bustli
ne that was much too large for her size. Ruby remembered those days, the sudden, inexplicable stares, the sometimes flattering, sometimes dismaying attention.
Once they were all settled around the table outside, Valerie said, “So you are not sick, Ruby? It’s not chemo throwing up?”
“Oh, my God! No!” Ruby said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you might jump to that conclusion. I’m just pregnant.”
Valerie raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Confirmed. Due October second.” She leaned back to put her hands on the round of belly, thinking it seemed bigger than it did yesterday. With some satisfaction, she said, “I’m afraid I’m going to get as big as a house.”
Valerie leaned over and squeezed Ruby’s hand. “That’s beautiful, Ruby. Absolutely wonderful.”
“Thanks.”
Valerie gave a sidelong glance at her daughter. “Miracles happen.”
Hannah wiggled her foot and practiced her aloofness.
“And what about Ginny?” Valerie asked. “I haven’t had an email or a text in a couple of days.” She leaned forward and slid a celery stick through the bowl of hummus. “I was worried that she’d get stuck behind the fire lines or something.”
“Fire lines?”
“Big fire in Idaho. It wasn’t causing a lot of trouble when we passed through yesterday, but they were worried about some windstorms in the forecast.”
“I saw her blog post last night, but she was only in Utah.”
“I haven’t been online for a couple of days.” Valerie patted the pocket of her cargo shorts. “Hannah, will you go get my phone off the dash?”
Hannah rolled her eyes and heaved a long sigh.
“Now, child,” Valerie said.
The girl hauled herself to her feet and headed toward the driveway. Valerie waited until she thought Hannah was out of earshot, then said quietly, “She’s driving me crazy.”
Hannah turned around. “I heard that. Just because I don’t want to be all Kunta Kinte.”
“Nobody said anything to you, Hannah. Go get my phone.”
Ruby watched Hannah scuffle across the gravel circle drive, thinking the pebbles must hurt through the leather mocca- sins. “I went through an Indian period,” she said.
Noah snorted.
“What?” Ruby said, keeping a straight face. “I’ll have you know I am 1/120th Cherokee.”
His nostrils quivered. “I can see that.”
“I’m just saying that girls go through things sometimes. I thought if I was Indian, I’d be more in touch with the land, and I loved the culture of the Plains tribes.”
“Nations,” Valerie said.
Ruby chuckled. “Right.”
“I know,” Valerie said, and sat back in her chair, turning her glass in her long brown hands. “It’s just a stage, a passion or something, but I would like her to explore the heroes of her own culture. Tecumseh and Sitting Bull are great men of history, but so are the Chevalier de Saint-George and W.E.B. DuBois. And on her dad’s side there are all those heroes of Scottish culture—William Wallace and … whoever.”
Lavender snorted. “Hype.” She put her glass of tea back on the table. The ice cubes clinked. “Give her time. A passion is a good way to get through something.”
“I know. That’s why we did the trip.”
Noah said, “Tecumseh and Sitting Bull?”
She smiled. “Yeah. She’s crazy for Sitting Bull.”
“Good taste.”
“How are you holding up, gal?” Lavender asked. She narrowed her eyes. “You look good.”
“Thanks. I’m okay.” She reached for another celery stick. “Why am I the only one eating here?”
Ruby laughed. “I was trying to let everybody else actually get some before I turn into Wolverine Ruby.”
“Eat!” Lavender plunked some fruit and a single piece of bread on her plate. “I’ve been plagued with indigestion for a couple of weeks now. Never know what’ll set it off.”
“Have you had it checked out?” Valerie asked.
Lavender waved a hand. “If you start treating me like an old woman, I’ll start treating you like a widow.”
Valerie held up her hands. “Wouldn’t think of it.” She glanced over her shoulder to see if Hannah was still gone. “That’s the best part of leaving Cincinnati. Finally we can just be invisible, ordinary tourists. That was hard to do in Cinci.”
“I bet.” Ruby dug into her salad, savoring the cold sweetness of the watermelon, the depth of fat and creaminess in the avocado. “Do you know where you’ll end up?”
“Not really. We’re going to spend the summer with my parents in San Diego, but who knows after that. Maybe we’ll just keep wandering for a year.”
Hannah returned, long arms and legs moving as if she had no joints. Really pretty girl, Ruby thought. She wanted to play with her hair. “Here’s your phone. Can I eat now?”
“Of course.” Valerie flipped open her phone. “No messages. And”—she touched another spot on the screen—“no emails from her, either. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Hope she’s having an adventure,” Ruby said, eyeing a ring of red onion.
“No doubt about that,” Lavender said.
Ruby’s phone buzzed. A message from her father said, Cute pic! I can see your tummy showing. How’s my baby growing?
She smiled and texted back, Which one?
I hate texting. Call me, will you?
One second.
Ruby looked up from her phone. “Excuse me a minute, please. My father is anxious for news.”
She swished through the long grass toward the lavender fields. “Hey, Dad,” she said when he answered. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Everything going all right?”
“It’s beautiful here.” She inhaled the fragrance of lavender, baking under the sunny skies. “Isn’t Oregon supposed to be gloomy?”
“Not this time of year, I don’t think. The summer is good in the Northwest.” She could hear him cooking, a utensil clicking against a pan. “So you have a cat now? You know you can’t change the cat litter when you’re pregnant, right?”
“No. Why?”
“There’s a parasite that lives in cat feces. You can’t touch it.”
“Good to know. And, anyway, she’s a barn cat, so I guess she might hang out with me, but she’s really not that tame. She likes to eat mice.”
“She’s cute. You’re feeling good?”
She thought of the throwing up, the endless, endless throwing up, and her grouchiness, and the not sleeping, but the only thing he could do was worry, and she could manage this. “I’m fine, Dad. Lavender and the others are going to take good care of me.”
“All right. I won’t keep you, then. Keep me in the loop, sweetheart.”
“Will do. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too, Ruby.”
She touched the screen to turn off the call, brushing her other hand over the lavender standing up to her hips on either side, and absently tapped the email icon. Her in-box came up, populated with the usual junk mail, a couple of notes from friends, and last—electrifyingly—a message from Liam.
The header was Thought You Should Know.
A tangle of cold things wrapped around her throat, and she clicked on the email. The body of it hadn’t yet arrived via cyberspace, so she had to stand there for long seconds with her phone in hand, watching a little circle spin to tell her the program was working.
Still working.
Still working.
She made a small noise, and, as if the machine heard her frustration, it filled in suddenly. Short and to the point.
Dear Ruby,
I wanted you to hear it from me rather than from our friends or somewhere else. I am getting married to Minna in two weeks. I’m sorry if this hurts you. That was never my intention.
Be well,
Liam
Ruby cried out, and a sharp, ripping pain went through her middle, as if a monster had reached into her chest
and torn out her heart, leaving blood vessels and arteries hanging, pouring blood out onto the ground. She fell to her knees, nearly buried in lavender, and felt the impact shudder upward through her body.
Liam!
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Waving from Utah
Thursday morning at my little table, looking out at the beautiful, beautiful mountains.
Hi, Val. How are things going in Custer Land? I can’t remember where you were supposed to be by now, either, so fill me in.
I’m in Utah, outside Provo. Had to stop yesterday because of the winds, and then it rained last night. Somebody said the rain was good and the wind is bad, because there are fires somewhere in Idaho. Are you headed through there? Seems like the path to Boise would be pretty safe. (Shrug.)
Had the most interesting conversation last night! Ran into the truck driver who admired Willow the first day out. He got sidelined by the same storm that finally made me stop, which actually made me feel better—if a trucker pulls over, the weather is probably not great, right?
Now that I’m doing this, I’m really even more disappointed in myself that I was too afraid to travel alone to Cincinnati and missed the funerals. I know you’ve said you understood, but it was cowardly. I should have been there for you, and I was too afraid to go by myself. I don’t even remember now what I thought would happen.
Never mind. All water under the bridge.
Now I guess I’d better get on the road. Miles to go before I sleep, hahaha.
Ginny
[ADDED TO EMAIL QUEUE TO SEND … NOT MAILED]
Chapter 14
Ginny was awake at six, roused by Willow nosing her under the covers, blowing hard, ever so gently rattling the tags on her collar. Clear morning daylight poured through the windows, promising a good day on the road, and Ginny flung on her sweats and a sweater.
The minute she stepped out of the Airstream, she saw that Jack’s big blue rig was gone. Of course it would be. A pang of regret pushed through her chest.
On the other hand, the sky was absolutely pristine, a color of blue that almost hurt to look at. Not a single cloud marred the sheen of that sky, although she could see a ribbon of clouds to the north, low and thin. Nothing to worry about. She ought to be able to make Boise today with no problem, and then—Lavender’s!
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