Ruby's Letters

by Maggie Van Well

  “Where’s Nicole?” she asked as she entered the room, her eyes deliberately staying on her ex-husband. Even though she told herself it didn’t matter, she was still ticked about Ryan’s indifference toward her earlier.

  Jared got to his feet and walked over to kiss her cheek. “Eating cold pizza. I have to get going. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but I owe you big time.”

  Patting his cheek, Emma smiled sweetly. “And one day, you will pay up.”

  With a look that suggested he wasn’t quite sure she was joking, he waved to Ryan.

  Emma’s stomach lurched the second the front door closed. God, she hated being alone with this man. Her body was so pathetic, wishing and hoping something would happen. She needn’t have worried. He barely looked at her.

  “Would you like some coffee?” she asked stiffly.

  “No thanks, I’m going to say goodnight to Nikki and then I’m off too.”

  Emma shrugged, way past ticked and well on her way to totally pissed off. And she knew she had no good reason. “Okay. By the way, thanks for watching Nicole. You really saved Jared’s butt tonight.”

  Looking rather bored, he waved away her thanks. “It was no big deal. Anytime.”

  “Oh, good. It’s nice to know if I’m going out on a date and I’m short a sitter, I can call you.”

  That at least got him to look at her. “Yeah. Sure. Fine.”

  “Goodnight.” Without another word, she left the room.

  He could show himself out tonight.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE AIR TURNED CHILLY as the wind came up. Ryan watched the leaves sway and twist on the big oak tree outside his home. He couldn’t bring himself to go inside right now. The thought of facing sleep or, worse, being lost in his thoughts about Emma agitated him.

  So many things had happened to him over the last five years. Horrors the average person could never understand. Losing himself, his friends, his brother, his future wife. All the sort of losses people go through on a daily basis, but how many dealt with them all at once?

  He knew other people had the same issues he did, but he never sought them out, or the support groups they offered. To do so would force him to relive what he strived every day to forget. He blamed it on his pride, but deep down he knew it was cowardice.

  He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t live his life afraid. Half a life was no life at all.

  It bothered him to no end that he’d run from the situation today. He’d looked forward to seeing Emma this morning, hoping she’d felt just a hint of what he had during that kiss last night. But then Tag had come in search of her, saying he wanted to take her out for coffee, telling him how much he hoped their dating would turn into a full-blown relationship.

  That was when he ran. He just couldn’t deal with it today—or with the small piece of him that feared the house now. He refused to believe it was haunted and one of the ghosts was after Emma. It was ridiculous. It was insane.

  But something wasn’t right.

  And that’s what scared him, the fear of the unknown, fear of what could happen. He’d been afraid for so long, yet this morning he’d believed he could face anything with Emma by his side.

  Until he’d realized she wasn’t by his side and never would be.

  He wished he had someone to talk to. He longed to sleep and dream of how good life could be instead of waking up with nightmares.

  Ryan turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the driveway.

  Forty minutes later, he stood outside his car, frozen. Not from the cold—after all, it was a pleasant late-September evening—but from pure shock. Why had he come here? He should hop in his car and head home. Maybe tonight would be a silent night.

  “Ryan, is that you?”

  He turned toward the voice. Mike stood in his driveway with a bag of garbage in his hand, staring at him in surprise.

  “Hi. I’m sorry. I should’ve called first, so I’m going to go.”

  Mike placed the rubbish in the trash can by the curb and walked to him. “You’ll do no such thing. Yolanda would be very upset if you were here and didn’t stop in.”

  With Mike’s hand on his shoulder, Ryan had no choice but to walk with him up the pathway.

  It had been so long since he’d felt the warmth of Mike’s Queens County home. The house, filled with love and noise, was so much more welcoming than his.

  The furnishings were worn but tidy. Finger paintings and pages from coloring books hung in frames on the walls. A child’s push-toy sat in a corner next to a large potted plant, and a half-dressed Barbie doll sat on the coffee table. The aroma of a home-cooked meal still hung in the air.

  “I’m sorry to say the kids are already in bed, since it’s a school night.” Mike took Ryan’s jacket. “It’s been ages since you’ve seen them. They’ve gotten so big.”

  Ryan remembered playing with Mike’s son and daughter. The last time, Gina had been three and Terrance, eighteen months.

  “Sit down, my friend,” Mike offered. “I’ll get us some drinks.”

  Ryan didn’t sit. Instead he walked over to the fireplace and studied the pictures that littered the mantel. The kids had indeed grown, but he could still see joy in their eyes. Joy he’d once had in his.

  “Oh, my sweet Lord.”

  Ryan closed his eyes in anguish, bracing himself before turning to Yolanda. Being a true southern belle, Yolanda was as kind and ladylike as any woman could be. The sister he never had.

  “Yolanda,” was all he could get out before she ran to embrace him.

  “Oh, Ryan.” She stood sideways, her protruding tummy hampering the opportunity for a closer hug. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Me too.” He was afraid to look at her for fear his eyes would well up, but he did anyway. “Pregnancy always did become you. You look as beautiful as ever.”

  And she did. Her dark skin was as smooth as porcelain. Eyes, black as ink, still held a mischievous spark. Fine-boned, delicate, she looked as if she might break if held too tight. But he knew she could go up against anyone and come out on top.

  “You look…” She studied him, as if trying to find the right words.

  “Like I’ve aged twenty years, I know.”

  She patted his cheek. “You’re still just as handsome. You just need a bit of the Lord’s comfort, that’s all.”

  He summoned a small smile. “At this rate I’d take a little bit of Southern Comfort.”

  Yolanda laughed. The sound was exquisite and sweet. “Are you talking about me or the liqueur?”

  “I could probably do with both.”

  Mike returned with two glasses filled with an amber liquid. “I remembered how much you loved Yolanda’s tea.”

  Ryan eagerly took a glass. “I can’t remember the last time I had real sweet tea.”

  “Far too long, I’m sure.” She studied his face and then turned to her husband. Ryan didn’t miss the silent communication between them.

  Yolanda placed her hand on his arm. “I have to apologize, Ryan, but I need to go lie down. I’ve been on my feet too much today, and this child is getting annoyed with me.” She patted her tummy.

  He held her hand tightly, afraid of how long it would be before he saw her again. “It was good seeing you.”

  Yolanda smiled. “And it will be good seeing you more often. I’ll be praying for you, my friend.”

  Unable to answer, he simply swallowed hard and nodded.

  Mike waited until Yolanda was out of earshot before he gestured for Ryan to take a seat on the sofa. “She’s been nesting lately.”

  “I guess the baby is getting ready to make an appearance.”

  Ryan gazed into his cup as Mike sat down beside him with a bold stare. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”

  “Guess what?”

  “Why you’re here?”

  Ryan didn’t exactly know how to answer that since he wasn’t sure himself. Then, as if someone else spoke, he blurted out, “Was
I really so easy to forget?”

  Mike seemed taken aback by his blunt question. “Easy? No, Ryan, never easy.”

  “Then why did you and Yolanda desert me when I needed you most?”

  Mike sat forward, hugging the glass between his hands. “You have to understand, we had no idea why you were acting the way you did. All of a sudden you started cringing anytime you saw us, you never wanted to talk or socialize anymore. I can’t remember the last time we heard you laugh, and frankly…well, you were scaring the children.”

  That was like a knife through his gut. He lowered his face in his hands. “The kids?”

  Mike took a deep breath. “You didn’t see what was going on around you. You shut yourself off from us. So we prayed about it and decided to give you the space you seemed to want.”

  God, he couldn’t believe how much he’d screwed up his friendships since Colin died five years ago. He and Mike used to be so close. There was nothing his friend didn’t know about him. Now, he could barely sit next to him and not feel awkward. “I’m sorry, Mike.”

  He patted Ryan’s arm. “When I found out what happened, why you were acting the way you did, I finally understood. You weren’t shutting us out, it was life.”

  “Tag didn’t leave me,” he said with a hint of accusation.

  “He didn’t have children to worry about.” Mike sighed. “Plus, Tag knew from the beginning what was going on. We certainly would’ve kept you and your family in prayer. Losing your brother must’ve been hard enough without having to deal with everything else. I’d like to think, if Yolanda and I had known, we would’ve stuck around, too.”

  “I couldn’t…I just couldn’t…”

  He squeezed Ryan’s arm. “It’s all right. You’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”

  “It’s been five years. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”

  Mike was silent for a moment. “I believe the Lord works in ways we can never understand. For example, He called you to work where you are now. We don’t know why, but I like to think the road to healing begins there.”

  Ryan shook his head. “I’ve found nothing but trouble at the job site.”

  “I realize working in that part of the city isn’t easy for you, but—”

  “It’s Emma.”

  Mike stopped mid-sentence and stared at him. “She’s been giving you trouble?”

  Laying his head back against the sofa, Ryan let out a long, slow sigh. “More than you can imagine.”

  “A female chimney tech is rare, but I assure you I’ve never worked with anyone more knowledgeable and trustworthy than Emma Hopkins.”

  “It’s not her work that troubles me.”

  Mike shook his head in confusion. “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I guess I’m—she’s the first woman I’ve...”

  Mike scrutinized his face. “Do you have feelings for her?”

  Did he? Well of course he did, but what kind? Was it lust or longing or worse yet—love? “Yes, feelings I don’t understand. Feelings I can’t have.”

  “Because of Tag.”

  “Because of Tag, because of my past.” Horrified his voice had risen in anger, he lowered it. “Because I’m only half a man.”

  Mike’s face grew determined. “Wounded, yes, but half a man, Ryan? No. Never.”

  He nodded, but he didn’t believe him.

  “Now the situation with Tag,” he took a sip from his glass, “that’s a different story.”

  “Yup.”

  Mike gripped his shoulder. “You have to put this in God’s hands. He’ll always find a way.”

  “I wish I had your faith, but after—well, I don’t see how I can.”

  “Open yourself up to the idea.”

  “I don’t want to open myself up. Women like Emma and Julie—”

  “Now, hold on there, my friend.” Mike held up his hands. “Emma is nothing like your ex.”

  Ryan’s face tightened. “Women on job sites have to develop a tough skin. They have no tolerance for weakness, and when they sense it, they sneer at it. They eat you up whole and spit you out in tiny pieces.”

  “That sounds like your father talking.”

  “It’s experience talking.”

  “So you’re judging someone on the actions of others?”

  Ryan ran a hand over his face, hoping to wipe away the guilt. “I’m sorry, Mike. You’re right. It is my father talking. He never knew how to deal with women in a ‘man’s world.’ That’s probably why he married a June Cleaver clone.”

  Mike patted his knee. “You were never like him. You embraced life, hugged it close. You’ll be that way again.”

  “I’d really like to believe that.”

  After taking a sip of his tea, Mike sat forward and smiled. “You know what I’d like?”

  “What?”

  “How about a game of chess? For old time’s sake.”

  Ryan couldn’t help but smile. “You’re on.”

  Later that night, while he undressed for bed, Ryan couldn’t tell who had won or lost any of the games they’d played. Each match had turned into a therapy session. Ryan told Mike things he’d only told Tag.

  At times Mike seemed on the verge of tears, other times he’d seemed angry, but he continued to gently encourage Ryan to go on. By the time they’d decided to call it a night, Ryan felt lighter than he had in a long time.

  When he reached over to turn off his bedside lamp, it was only midnight. For the first time in years, Ryan eagerly awaited sleep, believing the next time he woke; it would be to the sound of his alarm clock.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “OH, MY, YES, these are lovely.”

  Emma breathed a sigh of relief as Mrs. Morris looked over the tiles she’d ordered to go around the mouth of the fireplace in the master bedroom. Her client had been worried the new tiles wouldn’t match the older ones they’d salvaged. “I’m so glad you like them, Mrs. Morris.”

  A sturdy, age-spotted hand reached out to grip hers. Emma looked up in shock, not because of the unexpected contact but because of the warmth and comfort her client’s touch generated.

  “Please call me Betsy. I’m not really all that keen on people being so formal around me, and over the last three and a half weeks, I’d like to think we’ve become friends.”

  Emma lowered her head and smiled shyly. “Thank you. And yes, I think so, too.”

  Running her hand over the tile, Betsy studied her. “Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?”

  Self-consciously scratching her head, Emma thought about how to answer Betsy’s question. Her newly professed friend was very intuitive, spotting a fib or an omission from a mile away. Emma didn’t want to insult her by lying, nor did she want to tell her the real reason for the tension that stiffened her entire body.

  “I’m not really sure how or if I should answer that.”

  “Or which problem you want to share?”

  “How did you know I had two problems?”

  The older woman grinned. “I didn’t know for sure until you just confirmed it, but you’d be amazed what you learn with old age.”

  Emma chuckled. “You’re not old.”

  Betsy looked surprised. “No? I’ll be seventy-six on my next birthday. What do you consider old?”

  “Ninety-eight.”

  Her pleasant chuckle filled the room. “I like the way you think.”

  Emma forced a smile. Should she tell Betsy about the suspicious activity at the brownstone? If she was in any danger, shouldn’t Emma warn her? Would Betsy even believe her? If Emma were in her shoes, she doubted she’d believe any of it, but she had a feeling Betsy wouldn’t dismiss her so quickly.

  “I guess I’ve been a little weirded out since we found the body in the fireplace.”

  Betsy nodded but didn’t say anything.

  She took a deep breath and forged on. “And sometimes I feel like I’m not—”

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Morris, but I need to speak to Ms. Hopkins for a moment.” />
  Emma’s stomach jumped at the sound of Ryan’s voice. She spun around to face him, the scent of his cologne mixed with pure male hitting her like a warm blanket on a cold day. His intense stare dashed any hopes of the coming chat being a friendly one.

  Something was different about him. Even though he glared at her, he looked, well, for lack of a better word, younger. His eyes didn’t seem as tired, and his skin held a healthy color.

  “My goodness, Ryan, you scared me.” Betsy placed her hand over her heart. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to startle an old woman like that?”

  Ryan’s scowl softened when he turned to address Mrs. Morris. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but I really need to talk to Emma.”

  Betsy gently placed the tiles back in their box. “All right, I’ll go—”

  Ryan shook his head. “You stay here and finish looking through the tiles. We’ll be right back.”

  Taking Emma, none too gently, by the arm, he led her into the back bedroom. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Emma raised her chin in defiance. “I was talking to my client.”

  “Wrong. Betsy is my client. Your only client on this job site is me. If you think I’m going to let you tell her ghost stories, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  Emma’s jaw dropped. “Stories? After all you’ve seen and heard and felt, you’re calling them stories?”

  Ryan’s stance stiffened. “Of course they’re stories. You don’t really believe this place is haunted, do you?”

  Much to her horror, tears stung the back of her eyes. For him to talk to her in that damn condescending way, even after everything they’d been through, filled her with a sense of betrayal.

  How could he treat her like this? Was he just in denial, or was it deeper than that? Did he really care so little?

  Plucking up all her courage, she looked him right in the eye. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but this is going to be Betsy’s home. Don’t you think she has the right to know if we think there’s something unexplainable going on?”

  Ryan turned away, running his fingers through his hair. “Everything’s explainable. We just don’t know what it is yet. If you go in there and tell her you think this house is haunted, she’ll think you’re nuts and fire us both.”