He put the papers back in order, refusing to look me directly in the eye. Instead, he looked over my shoulder at Stanley. “I’ll have to get Mr. Norton down here.”
I reached out for his arm, and when my hand touched him, John pulled it away quickly. Our eyes met then, and he looked at me like Matthew had that day he’d seen Hannah healed. Like I was some kind of witch. Then he darted back to his desk and started explaining the booking procedure.
I’d expected some surprise and lots of questions—those were sure to come soon—but the look on John’s face was more than surprise. It was fear.
***
Matthew
Hope talked continuously through supper, though the rest of us only half-listened as she told us about the adventures the animals had been on that day. I was numb all over, and I couldn’t get more than a few bites of food down my throat. It was tight with emotion, and sore from my efforts to control them.
What have I done?
The question repeated itself over and over in my mind. Ruby was back in jail, and this time was so much worse than the last. There would be no bond, I was sure of that. And John had informed us of the strict visitation policy now in place, most likely due to my actions nine years ago. I would only be able to see Ruby on Tuesday and Sunday afternoons. Unless, of course, they decided to arrest me too. Mr. Norton would be informing Stanley of the charges we both might be facing in the next few days.
“Hope, eat your okra,” Mrs. Graves said.
“I don’t like oh-ka, Gamma.” She pushed the slimy green vegetable across her plate. I couldn’t blame her. I’d never liked the stuff either. I especially didn’t want any now.
“We don’t waste food,” Mrs. Graves said. “Take a bite.”
Hope stabbed a piece of okra with her fork and took the smallest bite possible. She scrunched up her face and shook her head. “I don’t like it.”
Mrs. Graves gave up. I reckoned none of us had the heart to make her miserable over something as insignificant as okra. I pushed my creamed corn and sweet potatoes around on my plate too. “Sweetie,” I said, “why don’t we go take a walk for a bit while Grandma cleans up?”
“Can I see the chickens?”
I stood and went around behind her chair, lifting her into my arms. “The chickens will be going to bed soon. Just like you. But we’ll take a quick peek in on them.”
I could barely look at Mrs. Graves and Asa, so it was a relief to get out of the house for a bit. I set Hope down so she could run off the last of her energy. We made our way along the worn path beside the pasture fence. She chased the fireflies, jumping for them as they darted out of reach. I watched her with a deep sense of loss, wondering how badly Ruby and I had just altered her whole life.
What if it was all for nothing? What if I’d just thought I’d heard God’s voice directing me? Lord, I hate to doubt you so quickly, but I could sure use some reassurance here.
Hope and I reached the chicken coop, and I picked her up so she could watch them peck around in the dirt for a while. When they started flying up into the trees to roost for the night, I said, “Looks like the chickens are going to bed. I think it’s your turn too.”
“Will you wead to me?”
“Of course.” I carried her back to the house and set her on the front porch. “All right, now go let Grandma get you ready for bed, and we’ll read.”
“I don’t want to go to bed.” She dropped her chin and looked at me with large, pitiful eyes that tugged on my heart. “I wanna wait for Momma.”
I sat on the edge of the cement porch, exhausted and out of words. “Mommy won’t be back tonight, remember? She said she would be gone for a few days. So you can’t wait for her to come back. You have to go to sleep.”
“I don’t wanna go to sleep,” she said, more insistent this time.
“I know. And I understand. But sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. And tonight, we both have to go to sleep without Mommy.”
She seemed to be grasping for the first time that Ruby wouldn’t be coming home tonight. Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t wanna go to sleep!”
“Hope—”
“Go get her!”
“I can’t.”
“I want Momma!”
She was sobbing now, and my chest nearly cracked wide open. I had to make her stop, but I knew nothing I could say would bring Ruby home. I tried to take Hope’s hands, but she pulled them away. She rubbed her eyes and sobbed even louder.
“I want Momma!”
Mrs. Graves came out onto the porch, stricken with worry. “What’s going on?”
“She wants Ruby.”
Hope ran over to Mrs. Graves and clung to her skirt. “Can you go get Momma?”
Mrs. Graves met my gaze, and I could see the same heartbreak in her expression that was tearing me up inside. What could I do? Mrs. Graves picked her up, shushing her as she swayed back and forth. But Hope was inconsolable.
“Momma…has to…wead to me,” she gasped.
“Hope,” Mrs. Graves said. “You have to calm down. Mommy can’t come home tonight. You’re going to have to let us take care of you.”
“I want Momma!”
Mrs. Graves went in the front door, but I could still hear Hope sobbing for Ruby. I climbed into the rocking chair, resting my head in my hands. Hope’s cries only grew louder. What could I do? I couldn’t make Ruby appear. I gripped the sides of my head, pressing with all my might. I ached for a drink to numb the pain, but I’d promised Ruby before I’d left the hospital that I’d never revisit that path, and there was no way I was going to let her down again.
“I want Momma! Go get Momma!”
I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t handle breaking Hope’s heart. What was I doing? Could I somehow still get Ruby and make a run for it? Why would God have me put my daughter through this pain, when she had no ability to understand it? I had to have misunderstood. That made much more sense than believing in a God who could be so cruel.
“Lord, what do I do?”
Surrender.
I pushed up from the rocking chair and paced the front porch. There was that word again. That was all fine and good when it came to walking alongside Ruby. Surrender meant going back to jail. But how did it help me with Hope? Was I supposed to surrender to the pain? Give in and crumble? What did it mean to surrender after we’d already physically surrendered everything?
Her cries continued to escalate. I had to do something, but I had no idea what. This was Ruby’s area of expertise. I still barely knew my own daughter. But I had decided to lead my family, and I couldn’t let someone else take care of Hope. I had to learn to do it myself.
I swung open the front door and ran through the house to Mrs. Graves’ bedroom. She held Hope in her lap on the bed, trying to rock her. Hope’s face was red and streaked with tears.
I went to her and lifted her into my arms, pressing her against me. “Hope, I’m right here. I know you’re scared. I am too. But I’m right here with you, baby. I’m right here with you.”
“I want Momma,” she cried, but with a little less force than before.
“I know. I want Mommy too. It’s all right to be sad. But God is with Mommy, and He’s with us. We’re not alone. Mommy’s not alone. You’re never alone, little bunny.”
I swayed her in my arms, feeling her tense body relax. She still whimpered, and her tears fell down my neck onto my shirt. Mrs. Graves came over and wiped her nose with a handkerchief, rubbing her hand over Hope’s back.
“When…is…Momma…coming home?” Hope asked between gasps of air.
I had no answer. I met Mrs. Graves’ worried expression. “As soon as she possibly can,” I said.
“But Daddy…Momma has…to wead to me…and I hafta…help her…sweep tomorrow.”
“I’ll read to you,” I said. “I’ll read to you as much as you want. We’ll read about Velveteen and Skin Horse, and we’ll sweep, and we’ll play with the animals, and we’ll stay so busy that Mommy will
be back before we know it.”
She lifted her head off my chest. “Can we go to the pigs’ party at night?”
I tried to smile. “Yes, sweetheart. We’ll go to the pigs’ party.”
I hugged her close for a few more minutes before her breathing returned to normal. My back ached from walking the floor with her in my arms, but I wouldn’t trade that pain for anything in the world. Once Hope was finally settled down, I turned to Mrs. Graves. “All right. Show me what to do to get her ready for bed.”
“I can do that,” she said.
“No. She’s my daughter. And it’s my job to take care of her. I want to do it. Just…just show me what I need to do.”
Mrs. Graves walked me through every step of preparing Hope for bed, from bathing her to dressing her, brushing her hair, and finally settling into the sofa to read The Velveteen Rabbit. Hope held on to her stuffed animals and snuggled into me as we opened the book. It was all I could do to keep my voice steady.
“There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink sateen…”
Hope yawned, and her body relaxed against me as I read about the toys in the nursery snubbing the plain little rabbit. Across the room, Mrs. Graves sat knitting in her chair beside Asa, who puffed on a pipe while he read to himself.
“…Even Timothy, the jointed wooden lion, who was made by the disabled soldiers, and should have had broader views, put on airs and pretended he was connected with Government. Between them all the poor little Rabbit was made to feel himself very insignificant and commonplace, and the only person who was kind to him at all was the Skin Horse.”
“Daddy,” Hope interrupted me. “What’s…dis…dis-abled sholders?”
“Soldiers. They’re men who fought in a war and got hurt.”
“Like you? Momma said you were a sholder and you had to get better.”
“Well, not exactly like me. I was sick when I came back, and I did have to get better. But I’m not disabled. Some brave men get hurt very badly in war. They might only have one arm or leg. They might have lost their sight. Some…” I had to clear my throat. “Some, like your Uncle Henry, died while keeping others safe. But God kept me from getting hurt too badly.”
She sat quietly, thinking this over for a moment. “Okay. You can wead now.”
I glanced at Mrs. Graves, who continued with her knitting. She didn’t look up, but I could see her struggling with her tears. I cleared my throat again, and continued reading as Skin Horse explained to Rabbit what it meant to become real.
“‘Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’
‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.
‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’
‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’
‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.’”
I kept on reading for a little while longer, until Hope’s breathing deepened, and her eyes closed. Then I put the book down and gently lifted her into my arms. I stopped in front of Mrs. Graves on my way to the side door. “Thank you for helping me,” I whispered.
She smiled up at me. “You’re a good father, Matthew. You and Hope will get through this, and she’ll be all right.”
I prayed she was right. I took Hope across the dog run and into her bedroom. Then I laid her on the bed with Velveteen and Skin Horse, covering them up. She rolled onto her side and let out the deep sigh of peaceful sleep. As much as I ached for Ruby, I was grateful for the moments I’d just shared with Hope.
I knelt beside her bed, folding my hands together. “Lord, bless us with Your presence and mercy. Help me be the father You desire me to be. Comfort Ruby tonight. Give us all the peace of knowing You are in control, and that we can trust our lives in Your hands.”
Chapter Thirty
Ruby
September 25, 1945
Cullman County Jail, Alabama
I realized fairly quickly that my prison stay this time would be very different from my first time. Not only was I allowed visitors only on Tuesday and Sunday afternoons, but I was on a strict schedule of eating, restroom breaks, and one hour of exercise each day. When he was around, John Frost barely spoke to me, or even looked at me for that matter. Mostly, the other two deputies took care of everything.
There were three men locked up with me, and I did my best to keep to myself, but it was difficult to ignore them. Mr. Cain was charged with drunkenness and beating on his wife. Mr. Phillips had robbed some stores. Mr. Dodson had stolen cash from a family farm where he’d been working. I didn’t speak much to any of them.
I was thankful that at the very least, I had a cell to myself at the end of the row. I spent nearly all my time reading Daddy’s Bible and praying for Hope and Matthew. I counted down the hours until Tuesday afternoon, when I could see them again.
About two o’clock, John came into the cell area and walked to my door. Once again, he barely looked at me. “Ruby, I’m taking you over to the courthouse to meet with your lawyer and Mr. Norton to discuss your case. Just so we understand each other, you will be handcuffed the entire time. I expect you to comply with any order I give you. Understand?”
I stood from my cot, unsure if I should walk to the door or stay where I was. “John, I told you. I won’t be any trouble. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“It’s not you I have to worry about,” he muttered, turning the key in the lock. He stepped into the cell and held out the handcuffs. “Come on over here and stick your hands out.”
I did as he said, and he locked them on. The metal dug into my wrists, but I didn’t say anything. Taking me by the elbow, John led me down the walkway and out into the main office. He released me long enough to stop at his desk and get some things out of a drawer, before gripping me by the elbow once again and leading me down the hallway behind the office. We passed several doors before exiting into the bright sunshine and hot air.
“John?” I said as we turned for the courthouse. “Why are you so tense around me?”
“Tense? I’m not tense. Just wary, maybe.”
We walked up the four cement steps that led into the back of the courthouse, and John opened the door for me. We headed down one more hallway before stopping at one of the doors. Inside, Stanley Pierce and Matthew stood near the window. I didn’t want to make John any more nervous than he was already, but as soon as I saw Matthew, my heart leapt. I stepped to the side as Matthew came to me and wrapped his arms around me. I slid my cuffed hands over his head and hugged him close.
“How is Hope? Is she all right?”
“She’s just fine. She misses you and asks for you every day, but we’re getting through it.”
He released me, and I slipped my hands back over his head. I turned to John and held my hands out, expecting him to unlock the cuffs, but he shook his head. “You gotta wear those the entire time you’re out of your cell. Already went over that.”
“Is that really necessary?” Matthew asked, his voice tight with frustration.
John looked at Matthew like he was mad. “Look, I was nearly killed the first time she escaped. I’m not risking anything of the sort again.”
“But we came back willingly,” Matthew insisted.
John’s expr
ession hardened. “After nine years!”
“After being trapped in a war!”
“All right, fellas,” Stanley said, stepping between them. “Let’s take this down a notch. Matthew, stop talking. You might say something you shouldn’t. John, thank you for bringing Ruby over for our meeting. I trust you’ll be waiting outside the door, and I’ll let you know when we’re finished.”
John stared at Matthew a moment longer before turning to go. When the door was closed behind him, Matthew let out a huff. “That’s ridiculous, and he knows it.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “He’s just doing his job.”
There was a knock at the door, and a tall, lean man in a dark suit stepped inside. He looked to be about fifty, with graying sideburns and serious frown lines. He stuck out a hand to Stanley, who shook it quickly.
“Mr. Pierce,” he said. “How are you today?”
“Afternoon, Mr. Norton. I’m well.” Stanley gestured to Matthew and me. “This is Matthew and Ruby Doyle.”
Mr. Norton sized us up. “So, the prodigal couple returns.”
I felt Matthew tense beside me, but before he could respond, Stanley spoke up. “Shall we get down to business? I’ll need to meet with my clients when we’re done, and time is short.”
Mr. Norton set his briefcase on the table and took a seat. Matthew and I went around the table to sit beside Stanley. He had no briefcase, no notepad. Nothing. Had he even prepared for this meeting?
Mr. Norton pulled out a file and slipped on his glasses. “All right, I’ll be as brief as I can be. Right up front, I want to say that I appreciate you’ve both come forward willingly, and that I have taken that into consideration in putting together an offer for a plea. However, do understand that what we are about to discuss is the only offer on the table. I’m not here to negotiate.” The solicitor looked at me over the rim of his glasses, as if he wanted to make sure I was listening, before returning his gaze back to the papers in front of him. “Now, we’ll start with Mr. Doyle. Due to what’s come to light, there is enough evidence to charge you with conspiracy to aid and abet Mrs. Doyle’s flight from justice, accessory after the fact, and making a false statement to police.”
Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Page 31