Rubies from Burma

by Anne Lovett

  It helped a lot that Jack had told me the story of the photographs.

  I prayed for the souls of the dead that night. And whether she was dead or not, I prayed for the Chinese girl with the lopsided pigtails.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next morning, Sunday, when I got up everyone else was sleeping, and I knew they would sleep all morning. The weather had suddenly changed, with an icy, bitter wind whistling across the fields, slapping leaves across the windowpanes. I saw Cyrus, bundled up, going to the barn. I limped into Duke’s office and replaced the picture book in the trunk.

  Jack was out at the farm again Monday when I got home from school. It turned out that he was staying at Ida Duggan’s rooming house, lining up jobs for the summer, working on his crop-dusting plane, and helping out around the farm. Duke had loaned him the old blue farm truck to get back and forth as part of the deal. No one mentioned the weekend. No one mentioned the war. Once in a while he would catch my eye, but that was all.

  That week, he and Duke and Cyrus mended fences and hauled stumps, clearing land for more cotton. I mooned around, my ankle healing, writing his name over and over on my blue-lined notebook paper, and then I burned the paper in the backyard, afraid he would see it. Elzuma frowned at me and told me to quit lollygagging.

  Ava and I were in the kitchen getting supper Wednesday when they came back late that afternoon, laughing and cutting up. They plopped into chairs and popped the top off bottles of beer, making me think of Chap. Ava watched the oven as though it might explode at any moment, and finally opened the door to peek.

  What are we having? asked Duke. There weren’t any pots on the stove.

  Some of those new TV dinners, she said. I don’t want them to burn. Don’t you want to stay and eat with us, Jack?

  No thanks, he said. I already put my name down at Mis’ Ida’s tonight, and she’d be pissed if I didn’t show. Ava stiffened, because she didn’t like profanity. Jack drained his beer bottle and set it on the table and gave her a puppy-dog look. Ava, darlin’, wish you’d cook up some venison or quail. I’d be glad to shoot you some this weekend. How’s the hunting here, old buddy?

  Duke found something to look at out the window all of a sudden. Pretty good, but I don’t hunt.

  Jack was all grin and teeth, except his eyes weren’t smiling. Not hunt? Come on. I thought everybody in this neck of the woods hunted.

  I had enough of killing, Duke said.

  Jack shook his head. You eat meat, don’t you? That chicken in that TV dinner had its head chopped off.

  I didn’t do the chopping, Duke said. Somebody else can do the chopping.

  Jack said nothing, and I saw a slow red flush creeping up Duke’s neck. There were a lot of unsaid words there, charges of being unmanly, unsoldierly, as if he’d come by his war wound by accident. But Duke’s jaw remained firm. You find somebody else to hunt with, Jack. I’ll loan you my shotgun, if I can remember where it is.

  I know where it is, I said.

  You do, Missy, said Ava, and how is that?

  It’s in the tack room locked in a box, I said. I’ll show Jack where it is, I said, since it seemed clear Duke didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

  Go ahead, said Duke, before Ava could tell me not to, because I was sure that was on her mind. He fished a key out of a dish on the counter and tossed it to me.

  I walked out the back door with Jack and out to the barn. You got any idea what’s going on with Duke? He said to me. I shook my head, keeping his secret.

  When we got inside the tack room, we knelt down and unlocked the box. There were two shotguns there, and Jack took his time deciding before he chose one. When we stood up, we were close together and he looked at me in that lazy way he had and pulled me over to him and kissed me, long and slow. I had never been kissed before if you didn’t count spin-the bottle at parties. This was a real kiss that I felt all the way down. And then he snatched himself back because Cyrus was coming into the barn. Cyrus gave us a glance and I told him Jack was borrowing the shotgun.

  Just one, I reckon, Cyrus said. I needs the other for the varmints.

  Sure, I said. I didn’t know how he could shoot with only one arm but I guess he had it figured out.

  Walk me to the truck, Jack said, and so I did. When we got to the truck he tipped my chin up like he was going to kiss me again and I pulled back. Everybody would say he was too old for me, and I suppose he was. He was twenty-eight, Duke had said. But he didn’t look that old. He wasn’t like these boys in school, wet behind the ears. Jack was a real man.

  They might be watching, I said.

  He glanced over to the house without moving. Finally he said, Sure, beautiful. See you later.

  I hurried back to the house, feeling his eyes on my back. Laughter bubbled in my throat, feeling strangely like tears. He had called me beautiful.

  Thursday afternoon Jack wasn’t there when I got home. Duke and Ava rode over to look at a neighbor’s prize bull, the one that had won a blue ribbon at the state fair. Duke was thinking of breeding some of his cows to it.

  I was thinking about Jack so hard that when the phone rang, I grabbed it, hoping it was him, and it was, and my heart was in my throat.

  Hey sweet thing, said Jack. Duke there? A deep, hollow pit formed in my stomach.

  They’ve gone to look at a bull, I said. They ought to be back any time.

  A bull, huh?

  For breeding.

  Is that a fact.

  Did you go hunting today?

  No, he said. Other stuff. Hey, Mae Lee, I been wanting to ask you, how would you like to go to the show tonight?

  My stomach dropped to my feet. I can’t. I have homework. Oh my God, my heart was racing like Nimrod on the dirt road.

  Tomorrow night, then.

  I don’t know. I thought of the evil eye Ava had given me the night she’d seen us looking at the picture album together, and God only knew what Duke would think. The phone line crackled and I thanked Jesus and Southern Bell we didn’t have a party line.

  Don’t you want to come, honey? That voice was making goo in my underpants.

  I’d have to ask them, you know. No need to say who them were. I don’t think they would let me.

  Hey, you’re a big girl, he said. Maybe they wouldn’t have to know. They’re going to some fancy party tomorrow night, right?

  I knew this was true. There was a dinner party at Duke’s parents’ house. It was some kind of political thing and Ava was all excited.

  We could be out and back before they got home, Jack was saying. Think about it and call me tomorrow at old lady Duggan’s. Here’s the number.

  I grabbed a pencil and scribbled the number on the back of the phone book.

  Ava and Duke came back from the bull viewing about seven. They’d stayed for supper talking breeding, and the neighbor had sent a plate of pork chops, vegetables, and lemon pie for me. Lindy called after supper, and I listened with half an ear to what she was telling me. Most of my mind was still on Jack’s voice on the phone and the feel of his lips and the smell of him, and the damp in my pants.

  Lindy was saying, aren’t you listening, Mae Lee?

  Oh sorry. What? . . . the weathered tan of Jack’s skin and the muscles under his black jacket, his breath warm on my cheek.

  You are coming to the game with me tomorrow night, aren’t you? Some of us are getting together afterwards and I think Glenn’s coming. You know he and what’s-her-name have broken up.

  I have to think about it, I said.

  Jeez, Mae Lee, what are you talking about? All I’ve heard you talk about for the past year is Glenn. Now’s your chance, girl. He’s at loose ends.

  I didn’t want to tell her about Jack. I wanted to go with him, and I didn’t. I wanted to sneak out and I didn’t. But then again, sooner or later he would leave town and Glenn would still be here. Pick me up, I said.

  Friday night Ava was dressed up fit to kill in a new green silk dress to match her eyes and a pearl-colo
red mink stole, off to cocktails and dinner. They said it was all right for me to go to the game with Lindy. I put on my gray wool skirt and my new red sweater and my bobby socks and saddle shoes and stared at myself in the mirror, trying to comb my hair this way and that. I pulled it back in a ponytail and then let it fall. I did not see any beautiful there. It was straight, the color of wheat, the color of Momma’s hair.

  Lindy was running late. I went to the phone and then I saw the phone book, the number I’d scrawled on the back, the boarding house number. I picked up the book, looked at it a long time, put it back down.

  I gazed in the mirror by the door at my lips with their Tangee Natural orangish sheen. I wanted some red to match my sweater. Ava had plenty. Fire and Ice would appeal to Glenn. On her dressing table, the ruby earrings lay carelessly in a flowered dish. Tonight she’d worn the diamonds Duke had given her last Christmas. I went over and picked the rubies up.

  Magic lay in my hands. I slowly raised the rubies to my ears. My gold studs came out, and the long gold Burmese wires were threaded into the holes pierced by Lourdes Sanchez’s mother seven years before. In the mirror, the rubies’ red fire blazed color into my paleness and lent my eyes their iridescence. Even my wheaty hair took on a sheen. I tossed my head as Ava might have, and smiled mysteriously. Right then the front doorbell rang—Lindy at last. Why didn’t she just honk?

  I hurried to the door, ready to dazzle her with the earrings. But when I flung it open, Jack was standing there. He gave a slow, lopsided grin when he saw me.

  Mae Lee? Wow, you look great. He kept grinning, like a stupid idiot. Has Duke left? I just thought I’d bring this truck back and let him run me back by the boarding house on his way to his folks.

  They’ve already left, I said. But you knew that, didn’t you?

  He spread his hands and grinned. Can’t blame a guy for trying, he said, with mock-sad eyes. You never called me.

  I’ve got other plans, I said, and looked beyond him to the road so he would get the hint. My friend is coming, I said. To pick me up.

  He turned and looked. Nobody’s there, and I was thinking we might never see each other again. I’m leaving tomorrow.

  You’re not coming back? I said.

  Maybe I’d like to find a reason to come back, he said. I might even settle down here. Couldn’t you just drive me back into town and meet your friend later?

  It was the longest minute I ever spent.

  She’s late, I said. Let me call her.

  That’s my girl, he said.

  I felt a fluttering in my belly as I picked up the phone.

  Lindy’s mother caught her going out the door, and she sounded breathless and impatient when she came on the line. Golly, Mae Lee, jeez, Louise, what is it? I know I’m late. Be right there. Couldn’t help it. The damn horse stepped on my foot but nothing’s broken.

  It’s okay, I’ll meet you at the game, I said.

  It’s no trouble to come by. Really.

  Nope, I gotta go, I said, and hung up. I would explain it all later.

  My hand went to my ears. Ava’ll kill me if she sees me wearing them, I said. I gotta take them off.

  Honey, they make you look so sexy, Jack said. Leave them. You’ll be back before she gets home.

  I thought about all the kids at the game. I thought about impressing Glenn.

  Sure.

  He’d cleaned up the old truck, as though he was sure I’d come. He’d swept out all the dried clay and hay and draped blankets over the rumpsprung seats. He swung the door open for me with a flourish and bowed like a hotel doorman in the movies. I got in and smoothed the blanket. These aren’t ours, I said.

  Jack shrugged. Old lady Duggan likes me a little.

  I’ll bet she does.

  He could charm the white socks off a horse, and by the time we reached town he’d talked me out of going to the game. We’ll take in a movie, he said. We were hungry, so he took me to the drive-in barbecue place down by the river, and we sat in the glow of a blue neon sign, a tray clamped to our window, smell of barbecue and wood smoke all around. Frank Sinatra crooned on the radio, his tones floating in the marshy river breeze where the quarter moon was rising into the fading blue behind the mossy oaks.

  The darkness surrounded us like a blanket, and with his arm around me I felt warm and safe, feelings I hadn’t had since Momma died. I was almost sorry when he said it was time for the show.

  But instead of turning west toward town and the theater, he headed east toward the drive-in movie. They were running Tarzan and the Slave Girl but I don’t remember much about it. I remember the smell of the popcorn, the rows of cars with heads close together, the squawking speaker that never quite worked, the graininess of the moving shadows in front of us.

  And Jack’s hand around my shoulder, creeping over my red sweater. I slid that hand away every time someone walked by our car on the way to the bathroom or snack stand. The baby in the car in front of us began to scream, and the people in the car next to us got into a shouting match and started throwing popcorn. I looked at Jack. It was nice back at the river, I said.

  He nodded. Sorry about this movie. Tell you what. How’d you like to see my plane?

  Your plane.

  I got a good little Piper. Yellow.

  I stay away from airports, I said.

  You scared of flying?

  I’ve never been up.

  Let me take you someday, he said. We’ll fly high up in those clouds, and it’ll be so clear, you can see all those farms and fields below us looking so pretty, and you’ll feel like you never felt before, like you’re part of the wind. Come on, let’s just go sit in the plane. That’s the first step.

  I told him then about Chap, and the tears kept running down my face. He took out a handkerchief and wiped them away. Oh, God, honey. Don’t you see you’ve got to go now? Just come sit in the plane. It will help you get over it. He leaned over and kissed me, that soft, soft kiss. I felt it, the goo.

  The baby in the next car kept screaming.

  We’d gone a few miles down the highway when Jack made a stop at a roadside market. You thirsty?

  I nodded and he went in and came back with a paper bag. I looked in, expecting Cokes, but there were two tall cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

  You do like beer, don’t you?

  Sure, I lied. I have it all the time.

  We turned off on a county road before we got to the airport road, and then turned once again onto a sandy dirt road that threaded through tall pines. This is a shortcut to the airport, he said.

  After we were deep in the middle of nowhere he pulled the truck to the side of the road, leaving barely enough room for another car to squeeze around us. I could just see the moon over the tops of the tall pines, but there in the trees’ shadows, the road was black as the inside of a well.

  He rummaged in the car pocket and brought out a church key. He ripped it into one of the cans, and beer foamed over the top, wetting his fingers. He licked them and handed the can to me.

  I sipped the bitter foam. Yuk. How did anybody drink this stuff? I should have made him get me a Coke. Jack opened his own can, turned it up, and took a long drink. Cheers, he said, and clanked his can on mine. I took another sip, and it wasn’t so bad. Under the foam it was kind of sweet.

  It’s nice and quiet out here, Jack said.

  Spooky, I said, and shivered a little. It was so dark I could barely make out the outlines of the trees. I took another swallow. An owl hooted, and we sat there silently for a few minutes.

  Mae Lee, Jack finally said, drawing my name out. Mae, that’s a river in Burma. Where’d you get that name?

  From great-grandmothers. I am really Mavis Leila.

  Ouch. I like Mae Lee. Mae Lee, Mae Lee. He stroked my neck, giving me shivers and tingles, and kept going until he traced the outline of my ear, then played gently with the ruby earring there. He kissed my ear and then he took the whole earring in his mouth, tugging a little, and then he licked my ear and the sensation w
as strange, but the kind of strange you wanted more of, and then his lips left my ear and found my lips, and pressed so hard that I could scarcely breathe. After a few moments I felt dizzy, as if I was going to faint. I struggled for breath, and he drew back and traced the outline of my lips with his tongue. It felt dark and dangerous.

  He kissed me again and again. My heart was pounding, the ruby earrings felt like fire, and down between my legs, I felt something needing to be filled, a pool of crocus blossoms, a yellow damp and sticky heat, and Jack’s fingers were on my bare back, under my sweater, fiddling with the clasp of my bra and if I did not do something now I was going to be really sorry. And it was getting late and Ava and Duke would be home.

  Jack. No.

  Hush.

  The clasps gave way and he lifted my sweater and there were my small bosoms not voluptuous like Ava’s and I squeezed my eyes shut with embarrassment. Jack, I said.

  Beautiful, he said.

  We gotta see the plane. I gotta get back. But I sat there like a statue.

  Plenty of time, you pretty thing. He leaned down and kissed the pale skin between my breasts. He kissed my closed eyes, my neck, my collarbone, and traveled downward. When his lips closed over my nipple I gasped, Lord, a flashing neon sign on a dark rainy street.

  Feel good, baby? My mind was spinning, drowning in the electric goo, and he was over me, and zoop there was a zipper coming down. I took hold of his arm. He took my hand and put it on him, all hot and throbbing. Oh jeez. I pulled my hand back.

  I can’t, I said.

  Don’t you want to? he said.

  I can’t.

  His hand had been sliding up my thigh but it stopped. Off the roof?

  Duke, I said. Duke was all I could think about. What he would do if he knew. He might kill Jack. Shotgun or no shotgun.

  Duke? Damn. He will never know unless you tell him.

  He’ll know, just like God.

  The holiness of the body. The sounds from beneath the door. Ava in the yellow nightgown, beckoning, her tongue licking her lips. I could almost smell again the long curling smoke of the midnight hours. I don’t know when I began to tremble. Please, I whispered. Please.