He kissed me gently. “Then I’ll drive you and wait in the truck.”
“I can drive myself.”
He pulled me close, kissing me deeper this time, and sending my stomach into flips. “Please be careful. Don’t trust Cass.”
“I don’t have to trust him. I trust God.”
***
By the time I returned from Brother Cass’s place, most of the visitors had left. I pulled the truck up beside the last remaining car and sat in the overflowing peace that still filled me. God had returned my gift, and I finally felt whole again. Not only that, but I’d made peace with Brother Cass, at least in my own heart. What peace there was between him and God, I would never know.
I bowed my head and thanked God for calling me to Mrs. Cass’s side, for allowing me to be a part of the indescribable holiness of His presence. I thanked Him once again, as I knew I would every day, for the mercy I’d received. I laid my hand over my belly, and I prayed for the new life growing inside me, and that Matthew and I would have many years of joy ahead.
When I came inside the house, only one visitor remained. Hope jumped down from his lap and ran over to me. “Momma! Look! Uncle Mike is here!”
I picked her up, and we walked over to Mike as he stood from the rocking chair. His smile spread across his face, and he wrapped me into a hug. “It’s about time you showed up at your own party,” he said.
Matthew came over from near the fireplace and stood beside me. I sensed a possessiveness that, in a way, was reassuring. “How did everything go?” he asked.
“Very well,” I said, putting Hope down. “Mrs. Cass is feeling much better.” I turned to Mike. “How long can you stay?”
“I’m heading out in the morning.”
“Did you fly here?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mother came into the room just then. “Mike and Matthew, do y’all want any more food before I put the last of it away?”
“No, thank you,” Mike said. “I’m stuffed.”
“None for me, thanks,” Matthew replied then turned back to Mike. “Did you say you flew here? All the way from San Francisco?”
“Well, I stopped in Houston to let my parents know what was going on. They’re anxious to find out how all are doing. Especially Hope. Mother misses her terribly.”
“Tell her we’ll be out to visit as soon as we can. Maybe next summer?”
“That would be swell,” Mike said.
Matthew slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Mike, there’s no possible way to thank you and your parents enough for everything you’ve done for my family. You’ve made it possible for us to have a future together. You’ve been a true gentleman, and a hero.”
Mike’s eyes flitted quickly to Matthew’s arm before he smiled. “All I’ve ever wanted for Grace…I mean, for Ruby, is her happiness. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happier than she is now.”
“Well,” I said. “There is one more, small thing that could make me just a smidge happier.”
“What is that?” Matthew asked, his eyebrows lifting.
Mike began to laugh, and Matthew looked from me to Mike, and back to me. “Ruby, what is he laughing about? What is the one small thing?”
“It’s nothing!” I said, but I couldn’t hide my wide smile.
Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?”
I reached up and kissed him on the jaw. “Most definitely.”
“Ruby…” Matthew’s voice rose just a bit. “Ruby, you’re pregnant!”
I slipped out from under his arm and linked mine through Mike’s. “Now, where is this plane of yours?”
Epilogue
Hope
June, 1964
Smith Lake, Alabama
My entire childhood, Mother told me I was destined for something special, that God had given me a gift, and it was up to me to find out what it was and how to use it to glorify Him. But when your Mother is Ruby Doyle, there’s a certain height to the unspoken expectations you grow up with, and for a long time, I just assumed my gift would be something spectacular.
As a young girl, I envisioned myself with super powers. Not like the ones my brothers read about in their comics. I didn’t see myself as being able to fly or see through things. Those weren’t real powers. No, my powers made a difference in real people’s lives. I could love people long enough and with enough conviction to change them. I could see inside their hearts, see when they were happy or sad, anxious or at peace. I knew things about people, even when I couldn’t explain them.
Somewhere along the way, that changed. I didn’t exactly stop believing in miracles. I knew God worked miracles, but they became distant, cold things I could only read about in the Bible. And the things that were warm and close, the things that held weight and could be measured, became more real in my life. Especially once I left home for college.
Like my father, I had a sense of space and numbers. I loved building things, especially things that seemed to solve problems or make difficult jobs easier. If I had to help clear rocks out of an area of Uncle Asa’s field, I’d rig up a train of wagons to pull them. Since I only had one wagon, I had to improvise. So I studied how the wagon was put together, and I built myself two more. The pride in Daddy’s face when he saw those wagons was something that stuck with me the rest of my life. I was only six.
So when I followed in Daddy’s footsteps to the University of Alabama to major in engineering, it wasn’t much of a surprise to anybody. At least, not anybody in our family. The boys in my classes were pretty surprised though. In fact, there were so few women in any engineering field, I had to get special permission just to be admitted to the program. I fought hard to get there, and in the end, got my way.
So, I knew it was going to come as a huge shock when I told my parents I was going to change majors. Not only that, I knew when I told them what I wanted to change my major to, things were going to get very uncomfortable.
The whole family was spending the summer at our house on Smith Lake that Daddy had spent most of my life working on in some form or another. He built a successful construction company ten months out of the year, and spent the weekends of January and February adding on to the lake house. By 1964, it was large enough to sleep all seven of our family, plus Grandma Graves and Uncle Asa, and at least six or so more cousins from either Mother’s side of the family or Daddy’s, depending on who was visiting at the time. My summers were full of memories of swimming and fishing, roasting marshmallows, and playing games with my siblings and cousins long after the lightening bugs stopped flickering.
Since Smith Lake wasn’t far from home, Daddy could still drive to work each morning and be back in time for supper each evening. Of course, it took Daddy longer than it should to make that drive each day. For some reason he never explained to any of us, he refused to drive on Highway 69 between Hanceville and Birmingham, which just happened to be the fastest way to get to the lake house. It didn’t matter, though. For every single one of my twenty-one years, I never once saw him drive along that road. And if you asked him why, all you’d get is a shared glance between him and Mother, followed by, “Just a bad road. Better to avoid it.”
By the first weekend of our stay, I’d already been through the imaginary conversation where I announced my big plans no less than fifteen hundred times. And I still hadn’t come up with a good way to broach the topic. So my plan was to divide and conquer.
I approached Daddy first. He was throwing the football with Henry and Stephen as he monitored the smoker where his famous pork butt would reach perfection later in the day. Aunt Mary and Uncle Andrew were due to arrive about noon to spend the weekend with us, along with their sons Matt and Arthur. So if I wanted to talk to Daddy, I knew I had to do it before the chaos of a football game began.
I crossed the soft grass in my bare feet, wearing my bathing suit beneath my shorts and tank top. The sun was already blistering hot as I passed my sister Janine dutifully watching over ou
r younger sister, Maggie, as she splashed in the water’s edge. Janine was starting high school next year, which worried me a little. She was quiet, and a bit shy. Always observing situations rather than participating in them. I hoped she would come out of her shell over the next few years.
Maggie, who would turn eight in a few weeks, was the quintessential baby of the family. Both Mother and Daddy spoiled her rotten, and she never had to do any chores. But her joyful smile and bright eyes were quick to win you over if you doubted for a second she didn’t deserve all the adoration she received.
I reached Daddy just as he threw a pass to Henry. They’d been arguing all week over his plans for the fall since he’d just graduated from high school, so they’d finally called a truce and come outside to burn off the steam. Though, as I got there, I heard Daddy telling Henry that there were so many avenues out there he could pursue and be good at. I figured the truce hadn’t lasted long.
“Daddy, can I ask you about something?” I said, setting myself up just behind him and off to his right. Henry was known for his pranks and wouldn’t hesitate to belt me with the ball if it tickled his fancy.
“Sure, sweetie,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
“I need to talk to you and Mother about something, but I was hoping to get your thoughts on it before I talk to her.”
“You mean, you were hoping to get me on your side first so I’ll convince her to let you do whatever crazy scheme is in your head.”
“No,” I said. “I really want to know what you think about it.”
“Like when you wanted Uncle Mike to teach you how to fly? Of course, that one backfired on you, didn’t it?”
I had to laugh because it was true. “How was I supposed to know it was Mother who would be more accepting of that plan?”
“Hope!” Henry called. “Look out!”
I ducked instinctively, throwing my hands up to cover my head. I heard the smack of the football hitting Daddy’s hands and Henry’s cackling laughter. I groaned as I put my hands down. “Henry Doyle! Are you ever going to grow up?”
Daddy threw the ball to Stephen, who was at least making an attempt to hide his laughter. “Come on, Henry. Leave your sister alone.”
“Hey, Dad,” Stephen said, throwing the ball back. “You think Namath is the best quarterback Alabama’s ever had?”
“It’s possible. Coach Bryant says he is.”
I sighed. Getting Daddy’s attention away from football could prove difficult, even when it wasn’t football season.
“Didn’t you play with Coach Bryant when you were a freshman on the team?” Henry asked.
Daddy threw the ball back to Henry. “No, son. I only practiced with him. There’s a big difference. I had to quit the team, remember?”
Henry caught the ball and shook his head. “Why did you quit the team? What a waste. You could’ve had a national championship that year.”
“Because I knew where my priorities lay,” Daddy said with a hint of emphasis to his voice. Henry sighed.
“Daddy?” I tried again. “I really do need to talk to you.”
“All right,” he said. “Y’all save my spot. I’ll be back.” He turned and put his arm over my shoulder. “I’m all yours, little bunny.”
“Daddy, please don’t call me that.”
“I’m sorry. Old habits die hard.” We started up the slope toward the house. “Listen, why don’t we just go face this head on, and you can talk to me and your mother about this at the same time.”
“I’d rather talk to you first.”
“I’d rather your mother not think I’ve been conspiring with you again. Besides, you’re well past twenty-one now, and you don’t need mine or your mother’s permission to do anything.”
We walked up the steps of the huge wraparound porch that had been a surprise for Mother the summer I was thirteen. “I know I don’t technically need your permission, but I would still appreciate your blessing.”
He grinned and opened the sliding glass door. “Well, this must be something big if you’re this nervous. What is it, anyway? You joining the space program or something? Gonna be an astronaut?”
“Worse.”
We stepped into the kitchen where Mother was cooking all the side dishes that would be devoured in a few hours. The smell of apple pie hit me, and my mouth watered. Daddy walked over and took a deviled egg from the batch she was working on, and she slapped his hand as he reached for a second.
“Save some for dinner,” she scolded.
Mother smiled at him in that secret way she had that told him she meant business, but also that she adored him. I’d only begun to notice their secret language in the past few years, looks that passed between them carrying entire conversations no one else heard. It intrigued me, especially in light of what I’d learned in the last couple of months of my studies at Alabama.
Daddy slipped his arms around Mother’s waist and kissed the top of her forehead. “Your daughter wants to talk to us about joining the space program.”
“What?” Mother’s eyebrows arched, and she took a glance over at me to see if he was telling the truth. “You’re just pulling my leg.”
“No,” he said. “She wants to be an astronaut. I blame Mike for this one. If he hadn’t flown her down to Cape Canaveral, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Daddy!” He wasn’t helping things one little bit, and he knew it. “I do not want to be an astronaut. Mother, don’t listen to him.”
She smiled and moved out of his arms to finish working on the eggs. “It’s all right, sweetie. I’m used to your father’s teasing by now.”
Daddy went to the cabinet and pulled down two glasses. He filled them with ice and set them on the counter beside me. His eyes met mine, and he tipped his head toward Mother as if to say, “Go on and get it over with.” Then he went to the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher of lemonade. As he filled our glasses and refilled Mother’s, I gathered my nerve.
“There is something I want to talk to the two of you about, though,” I said. “I’ve been thinking of changing my major.”
Daddy finished pouring the lemonade and took the pitcher back to the fridge. “Well, the field of engineering has been growing and changing over the past few years. You have a lot of options. What were you thinking about? Mechanical engineering? You always did have a talent for building gadgets.”
“No,” I said tentatively. “I…uh…I was thinking of leaving the engineering program for something different.”
Mother’s eyebrows shot up and she stopped working on the eggs. “After everything you went through to get admitted? Your father worked very hard to get you into that program.”
“I know, and I’m extremely grateful.” I looked over at Daddy, who leaned back against the fridge and crossed his arms over his chest. His lean muscles bulged beneath his shirt. He was still strong, still as athletic as I had imagined he was in his youth.
“You’re quitting the engineering program, and it’s your mother whose opinion you’re scared of? Good heavens. What are you up to?”
“Daddy, I’ve loved being in the engineering program. I still enjoy it, but a few months ago I had an assignment in one of my other classes, and it’s led me down a path that…well, it’s changed everything for me.”
Mother wiped her hands on her apron. “Hope, we can see this is difficult for you, but let’s not draw it out. Tell us what’s going on.”
“Okay, here goes.” My stomach knotted. “A couple of months ago, in my English Composition class, we had to write a research paper. The teacher gave us some topics to choose from, and I decided to research my family history. I knew Daddy was in World War II, but he never says anything about it.” I glanced at him, afraid of the stony expression I’d find there. He shut down anytime any of us asked about his time in the war. “Anyway,” I continued. “I went through the newspaper archives at the library on campus, and I found a bunch of articles from 1945 about the two of you. Then that led me to some ar
ticles in Time—”
“Hope,” Daddy interrupted. “Let’s get to the point, shall we?”
My stomach twisted again. They were both staring at me now. Daddy walked over and put his hands on Mother’s shoulders, like he felt some need to protect her from me. “I…I read the articles. I went back and found old newspapers from 1936 too. I researched all of it. The first trial. The escape. Your time in the Philippines. I…I just wanted to know you, both of you. I had no idea you went through so much together.”
“And how did your research paper turn out?” Mother asked.
“I got an A.”
“Good for you,” Mother said. I couldn’t tell how she meant that. She’d gone completely rigid. I actually hadn’t expected this to be the hard part of the conversation.
“Why didn’t either of you ever tell me about all this?” I asked. “Mother…did you really…did you kill that man?”
Mother dropped her gaze to the floor, but didn’t answer.
“It was a difficult time in our lives,” Daddy said. “We moved on and made peace with it. There was no need to live in the past. Then. Or now.”
I felt like I was ten years old again, getting scolded for taking Mother’s new washing machine apart to see how it worked. I wasn’t meant to see the inside, only the finished product. I realized that by digging into their past, I was intruding on sacred ground.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
Mother raised her gaze back to mine. “You were going to tell us about changing your major.”
“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “I guess, in doing all the research I did, I figured out that I really enjoyed it. I didn’t just research my own past, but I read about the war and everything it’s led to. It explains so much about what’s going on now between the U.S. and the Soviets, why the tension in Vietnam is so high, why the world’s up in arms about hydrogen bombs and communism. So I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’ve prayed over the path for my future. And…I want to study journalism.”
Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Page 41