Rubies from Burma

by Anne Lovett

  Momma gave me some thin blue stationery. But I couldn’t find Ava’s purple ink.

  My dearest Duke, Mae Lee is writing this for me bcause I broke my rist. I love you and I cant wait for you to come home. Mae Lee loves you too very much. Momma and Chap love you. Get well soon. All my love, Ava and Mae Lee XXXXOOOO

  I wanted it to be longer but I didn’t know that many words. I got Momma to help me address it and mail it. I just had to get him home, and after that I would worry about what to do next.

  Time went by the way it does when you’re waiting for something, molasses or boiling pots or Christmas all the same. Ava clicked into the house on her high fat heels and she clicked out again like a sailing ship, proud and haughty, and we did not speak of Duke.

  Chap listened to Walter Winchell on the radio every night and told us what was happening. We listened all through the news which was getting better except for the kamikaze attacks, and Chap said They are not tellin’ you how many have been killed. They will never tell you the truth about that.

  One day the phone rang and Mabel was crying and she told Momma that a telegram had been delivered to the Conable’s farm that said Starrett Conable’s brother Elmo Junior was missing in action in Europe, and we had a very bad day. I hoped Duke would write back, and I hoped Ava would not write him unless she could tell him she loved him.

  Sometimes one thin thread of hope is all you have to tie you to the rest of life.

  Mis’ Celia called from time to time and Momma let me go to church with her, and I asked her to tell me more about the rosary. She gave me one, of really pretty milky white beads and taught me to say the Hail Mary and the Our Father, but before she could teach me any more prayers, Momma found out, and said she was trying to prosartize, and I was to give it back. I was going to be a Methodist if Momma had anything to say about it. Ava sneered. I told you about Celia, she said. Crazy lady.

  And then Mis’ Celia stopped calling me.

  Momma swore she didn’t tell her not to call me. After two weeks of no calls I missed her. I picked up the phone and told the operator her number, I could do that as well as Momma. Stupid Hardy Pritchard answered and said she couldn’t come to the phone and I better quit calling.

  What has happened to her? I asked Momma.

  I don’t know, honey. Maybe she went down to Savannah to see her people.

  Looks like she would have told me, I said. She likes to talk about Savannah. Maybe he’s keeping her locked up, I said.

  Momma and Chap just looked at each other. Locked up? Momma said. Why would you think of something like that?

  Because he’s mean, I said. And because Ava keeps saying she is crazy and ought to be locked up. Dr. Manifold locked Tess up on The Shadow last week.

  They looked at each other again.

  That night it was hard to sleep. Momma had told me to just forget about Mis’ Celia, but I felt sorry for her. And if Ava ran off with Hardy Pritchard I might never see Duke again in my whole life. I didn’t know I’d fallen asleep until a car door slammed outside and jolted me awake. I listened for Ava’s heels on the front walk but only heard the faint whistle of a far-off train and the bumping notes of jive down the street.

  I rolled over and scooted across the covers on my belly to see out the window. The full moon hung high above the chinaberry tree, and there they were, Ava and Hardy Pritchard wrapped around each other in the soft yellow light, kissing and kissing like they were never going to see each other again and his hand was feeling of her rear end.

  When Ava finally broke away and came up the walk, I scrambled back under the covers and pretended to sleep while she undressed and climbed in bed and gave a long happy sigh.

  I woke again when the sun was just peeping through misty pink. Light was coming from down the hall, and the smell of coffee drifted in. I slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen in my socks and pajamas.

  The clock read seven-thirty. The light was on in the garage, and I knew Chap was out there working on his plane.

  I knew Mis’ Celia usually went to early Mass. A Catholic, she said, never misses Mass. Surely Hardy Pritchard wouldn’t keep her from going to Mass. I could meet her outside and see if everybody was telling me the truth. I could take her back the rosary she had given me.

  I dressed in my dungarees and Keds and red hooded sweater, scrubbed my face and combed my hair. There was no time to eat, but I drank some of the coffee with lots of milk and sugar in it. I took the rosary and said my prayers.

  I headed for the front door, but then the toilet flushed and Ava came out of the bathroom.

  Where do you think you’re going? she said.

  I bolted for the door but she must have seen the rosary sticking out of my pocket.

  You better not go over there, I heard, just as the door was closing behind me.

  I ran and I ran, down the dirt of Pickens Street, hit the pavement at Seneca Avenue, got on the sidewalks, footsteps pounding, pounding, echoing in the still morning. Fog swirled around me. Maybe Ava was throwing on clothes to chase after me, but I was way ahead. I turned the corner onto Oakdale, not slowing.

  The house at 127 looked dark, only one light behind the lily-frosted front door window. The Cadillac sat in the garage. I ran around back, climbed on the back porch, and peered in the kitchen door at the dim kitchen, where wilted flowers stood on a wooden table.

  I listened for sounds from inside, but all I heard were children’s voices next door, a passing car, dogs barking in the distance, and the flap-flap of one of the high school football players who ran up and down the street every day.

  Then the phone started ringing.

  Thumps came from upstairs—footsteps—then I heard Hardy Pritchard’s voice, shouting goddam, then a thumpy-thumpy-thump, and a kind of smack, and then everything was quiet. I went around the house and rattled the back door, but it was locked. I ran around to the front door again and peered in the glass. I saw two legs lying on the floor at the foot of the stairs. Two feet were poking out of pajama bottoms, one bare, one with a slipper on it. Beside one foot was Mis’ Celia’s rosary.

  I couldn’t see the rest of him, but it had to be Hardy Pritchard. What was he doing on the floor? And what had he done with Mis’ Celia?

  A car screeched to a stop in the street, and Chap called my name.

  I ran down the steps crying hard, choking, and fell into his arms.

  I don’t know if the phone ever stopped ringing.

  Chapter Ten

  The town talked about it for weeks, how Hardy Pritchard had fallen down those stairs and broken his neck.

  Chap said it was a good thing Mis’ Celia wasn’t home to see it, but Momma said it wouldn’t have happened if she’d been there, if Hardy Pritchard had not taken her to that sanitarium and had her committed. There was talk as to whether his shoe had come off and tripped him up. People also asked whether God put that rosary on the stairs or Mis’ Celia left it there on purpose. I knew she would never have gone off without it.

  Momma and Chap and I went to the funeral, but Ava wouldn’t go. She cried and walked around like a zombie for weeks, getting thinner. I didn’t tell anybody about the packed suitcase I’d found in Ava’s room when we got back that day. I unpacked it and put all her clothes away and she didn’t fuss at me or pull my hair or call me names.

  Doc Weir called and asked her if she’d like to come back to work at the drugstore, but she just said, hell no, and Momma and Chap stared at each other like they were doing as they had been more and more these days.

  Mis’ Celia checked herself out of the sanitarium. Since Hardy Pritchard was dead and there was nobody to pay the bill, the doctors found she was all right and less nervous than she used to be. In fact she was downright calm and what Momma called serene. When she decided to move back to Savannah, I went over to her house and helped her pack her things, the picture and books and little Japanese ladies with fans. A For Sale sign went up in the front yard.

  She gained a little weight and roses bloomed
in her cheeks. She still prayed on her same rosary, and one day, when she asked me over for a last cup of tea, she got all thoughtful and told me he wrenched it out of her hand and threw it behind when he grabbed her to take her to the car. I guess he didn’t care where it landed.

  The day the moving van left, I went over to wave good-bye.

  Chap got angry at Ava for the first time in her charmed life. Look here, he said, you keep carryin’ on like that and people will think the talk was true. You get your caboose up and out of this house and help to put some greens and cornbread on the table.

  I can’t, I can’t, she said. I have burnt my bridges. I’m going to kill myself.

  I wonder what would have happened if a certain letter hadn’t arrived in time. I took it up to her. It’s from Duke, I said, wagging it back and forth. You want it, or can I have it?

  She stared at me, eyes wide, face white as cotton in the field. Give it here, she said, snatching it out of my hand like the Ava of old.

  After she read it, she buried her face in her hands and the letter came floating to the ground. I picked it up and started to read it and she didn’t even yell at me, she was weeping so.

  My Ava,

  Give Mae Lee a big kiss for writing that letter for you. Hope your wrist is well now. Glad you got the letter I sent by my buddy Austin who was an airman we rescued from the jungle. He was flying the Hump when his plane was shot down. He got to go home, lucky dog. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I sure want to get out of this ole army and come home to you. I know it’s hard on you, waiting for me, but I’ve always had faith that you would be there.

  Our boys are winning. I’m mostly recovered from my little dust-up, just a little gimpy. They’re not sending me on missions, but I’m useful at HQ.

  Be a good girl and sit down and write me a lot of “sweet nothings” that I can dream about during some of these boring hours when I’m not on duty.

  All my love,

  Dulany

  So he would come back to Ava, but he might find out the truth about Hardy Pritchard. Would people stay quiet, or would they talk without Mis’ Celia to protect?

  Chapter Eleven

  Duke was coming home.

  It was March 17, 1945, and Ava had gotten a telegram from San Diego three days ago and a phone call this morning.

  I sat out on the steps in the sun with my new green cardigan pulled around me, shivering with excitement. The wind ruffled my hair, and the sun sparked through the pale green leaves in the pecan trees.

  Daffodils nodded and bobbed everywhere—in our yard and across the street, where they bloomed in clumps in front of the fence. The old horse frisked like a colt in the field.

  I saw that Buick convertible way at the end of the street and ran back into the house. He’s coming, I hollered, and I got up and jumped up and down and twirled around. He’s coming!

  Ava threw down her Life magazine and smoothed her silky red blouse, twisting around to look at her rear end in the mirror. Her dark hair was as shiny as the mink coat in the Life magazine.

  She stepped out on the porch just as the Buick rolled to a stop in front of our house, lips apart, holding her two hands together.

  Duke opened the car door, squinting at the sun. A long metal cane appeared first and then he heaved himself out of the car, leaning on it. He straightened and Ava gave a little cry and she ran to him, and he folded her in.

  Ava touched the cane. Oh, Duke.

  It’s nothing, honey. I’m all right. It’ll just take time.

  Duke was drinking her in like she might disappear in a poof of smoke. They couldn’t quit touching each other—a hand here, a hand there, a brush of lint off his coat. With his free hand he stroked her face and then he kissed her.

  I was hanging back a few feet from them, the bratty kid sister Ava didn’t want around, wanting him to see me, and then Duke held out an arm. Come here, Mae Lee. It’s time for my hug.

  I let him squeeze my small body against his big one and then I looked up at him to see if he was the same Duke who had left, and from the look in his eyes I got the strange feeling that he wasn’t, that he had lost something out there in Burma.

  But then he looked into Ava’s eyes. I have something for you, he said, right before the screen door banged behind us.

  Chap stood on the front porch, pipe between his teeth. He and Duke sized each other up. Chap walked down the steps past the rusty metal chair and across the swept-dirt yard and the pointy bricks and the daffodils toward the shiny Buick.

  He shook Duke’s hand. I held my breath. The wind stirred the daffodils, and then they both smiled. Chap said Momma was waiting inside with dinner. Duke squeezed Ava’s hand and whispered, After dinner.

  Momma had made fried chicken, mashed potatoes, peas with pepper and butter, slaw and pickles, and fresh biscuits. Duke grinned and said, The best part of getting back is all this good chow.

  Are you sure, said Ava, and nudged him, and everybody laughed. She was back to her old self.

  I knew it had to come sometime, but it came sooner than I thought. It came during the second helping of mashed potatoes.

  Duke set the empty bowl down on his end of the table and said, Talley told me a funny story. I did not dare look at Ava. Duke said, Talley told me you had been working for Hardy Pritchard and now he’s dead. How come you never told me that in any of your letters?

  Chap sat on the edge of his chair like there was a coiled up spring inside of him. Momma sort of smiled and passed the peas. Ava’s fork clattered on the floor and I dived down to retrieve it but she waved it away. She propped her elbows on the table and laced her fingers together. I know you didn’t like him, she said with a little smile. I didn’t want to worry you. He was paying me good money and we needed it.

  Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now. Duke rubbed his chin. Remember what he said to me that day we had a run-in? Got a date with destiny, you and me, he said. Well. What happened to him exactly? Nobody said anything and then he turned to Chap. Didn’t you find him, Mr. Willis?

  Chap was inspecting a chicken bone to see if there was any more meat on it. Chap was no good whatsoever at lying.

  Chap and me found him, I said. He slipped and fell on Mis’ Celia’s rosary.

  You don’t know that for a fact, said Ava.

  Mis’ Celia thinks it’s so, I said.

  I could just see Ava was itching to say she was crazy but she just swallowed and said, Well, let her think what she likes.

  How did you two happen to find him? Duke said.

  I was going to church with Mis’ Celia, I said.

  It’s a long story darlin’, Ava said sweetly, laying a hand on his arm. Let me tell you all about it later. Momma let’s have our pie now.

  Yes, Momma said brightly, lemon meringue.

  After all the pie and coffee were finished Duke said he wanted to take Ava for a drive in the country.

  He has something for her, I piped up.

  Shut up, you, Ava said.

  Thanks, kiddo, Duke said and winked at me.

  Enjoy yourselves, Chap said. I think he was glad to get them out of the house.

  They stayed out late. I was in bed still awake when Ava came back. She was laying her coat on her own bed when I popped from under the covers.

  Well, Mae Lee, she said. I hoped you’d be asleep.

  Come on. What happened?

  She pulled off her clothes, stretching like a cat: sweater, skirt, socks, loafers, underwear, and on went the gown under her pillow. Then she sat on the bed, opened her pocketbook, and took out a packet of paper tied with twine.

  Here, she said. Feast your eyes, twerp.

  I took it and that knot was hard to untie but I did it.

  And oh, wow. On the grayish paper lay a pair of ruby earrings which were like two big drops of blood dangling from a diamond. I touched one and it felt warm, a heart beating.

  Okay, give back, she said and took the paper away and refolded it and tied the twine back with a dou
ble knot. I’ll have to get my ears pierced, she said.

  Momma will have a fit, I said. The only girl I knew with pierced ears was Lourdes Sanchez.

  Too bad. I’m not going to lose these, Ava said.

  Please, can I see them again? They made me feel all funny, like all the mystery of things I didn’t know was hiding in their red fire.

  One day I would know how much they had cost.

  Go to sleep, kiddo. Ava pulled the covers over her, closed her eyes, sighed, and sank right into the bed and that was all I heard from her that night.

  It was a long time before I slept. Ava had the earrings to tell the world that Duke loved her, and she didn’t deserve them. I wished he had brought me something. But the look in his eyes when he saw me would have to be enough for now.

  One day when I got home from school I found Momma hunched over some sewing at the kitchen table, white material in her lap and jars of little pearls and shiny things beside her and a big bolt of lace. The pouches under her eyes looked bigger.

  Duke brought back a silk parachute, she said.

  So Ava finally thought Momma’s sewing was good enough to make her wedding dress. Momma, I thought you were supposed to rest, I said.

  I’m going crazy sitting at home, she said. This makes me feel useful. She paused. But this is my swan song. So Mae Lee, don’t you ever get married.

  Momma, you’re teasing.

  She nodded. Yes she said, but let me tell you something, honey. It starts out all satin and lace and pearls, flowers and candlelight and a big tall cake like young girls dream of. Nobody wants to tell you about the time when the dress is laid away and the flowers dry up and the cake becomes crumbs that the ants carry away. And then you have this. She touched her old slipper toe to the bare spot on the floor where a linoleum patch had gone missing.

  Momma was scaring me talking like this. Duke’s rich, Momma, I said, in case she had forgotten.