by Marin Thomas
A single tear slid down Hank’s wrinkled cheek and dripped off his chin. Ruby could almost hear the voice in his head begging Cora to accept his love. Nothing would make him happier than believing she carried his heart with her to heaven.
He’d offered Cora his love and a better life, but she’d turned her back on him. Pity was all she’d get from Ruby.
She joined Hank at the foot of the bed. The moment seemed surreal, as if she watched the scene unfold from somewhere outside her body. Cora didn’t look like a woman who’d spent her life breaking men’s hearts. A cloud of pearl-white curls threatened to swallow an innocent doll face. Only a few wrinkles and age spots marred her porcelain skin. Even with one foot in the grave, Cora’s beauty shone through.
A clear tube fed oxygen into her nose while her buxom chest rose and fell in shallow, quick movements. A frail arm rested above the covers, where IV fluid fed into a blue vein on the back of her hand. Had that hand caressed Faith’s head before she’d dropped the ruby necklace into the bassinet and fled the hospital?
Hank moved to the side of the bed and grasped Cora’s fingers. Ruby pushed a chair across the floor, made him sit, then leaned against the wall and watched the scene unfold.
“It’s Hank, Cora.”
Cora’s eyeballs moved beneath the closed lids—maybe she recognized his voice.
“You gave me a scare when you ran off after giving birth to Faith.”
Ruby felt the urge to punch the wall. Hank had gone to bed every night for decades not knowing if the woman he loved was safe or had met an ugly fate. It wasn’t right. This whole situation was messed up.
“I never quit hoping that you’d find your way home.” He rubbed his eyes. “But we’re together now. That’s all that matters.”
Hank drew in a deep breath. “You should see Faith. You’d be real proud of the woman she’s become. Her parents named her Ruby. Every day she wears the necklace I gave you.”
Why hadn’t Hank told her that he’d purchased the jewelry? Ruby felt better about wearing it now that she knew one of Cora’s admirers hadn’t given her the gift.
“You’ve got a granddaughter named Mia. She’s smart as a whip. Wants me to quit smoking. I know you told me to quit, too. I’ve cut way back.” Hank played with Cora’s fingers as if he could will them to squeeze back.
“My lawyer found Faith, and she’s staying with me now. You get better so you can come home. Faith’ll look after us.”
He slouched in the chair as if settling in for an afternoon chat. “Heard you tried to see Faith when she was sixteen.” He shook his head. “I know I disappointed you because I didn’t keep her with me, but I couldn’t raise her. Not by myself. Not without you.”
Ruby had heard enough. She slipped from the room and returned to the nurse’s station, where Heather was dropping blue pills into tiny disposable soufflé cups.
“Do you know if the name of the apartment complex where Cora lived is in her file?”
“Let me check.” Heather pulled out a black binder with pocket folders. She read through the patient notes. “Belmont Estates. It’s not far from here. Go south on Winchester—that’s the street out front. Turn left at the first light, and it’s down the block.”
“I’m going over there to speak with the manager. If Hank asks where I am, will you tell him I’ll be back soon?”
“Sure.”
Ruby stepped outside and drew in deep breaths—one after the other until she flushed the stench of death from her nostrils. Then she got into the pickup and drove off.
When she arrived at Belmont Estates, a neon sign in the office window blinked VACANCY. The units were single rooms, not apartments. The trailer Ruby had leased in Missouri had been nothing to brag about, but it had been downright homey compared to this dump.
The rental office was the size of a closet. The man behind the counter set aside his newspaper and offered a yellow-toothed grin. The first four buttons of his purple silk shirt were open, showing off a thick gold chain and a clump of dark chest hair that looked like the stuff you pulled out of your bathtub drain. He hadn’t shaved in at least two days. Food crumbs stuck to the beard stubble at the corners of his mouth. His greasy hair was thinning on top, but rather than sport the popular comb-over style, he’d used a brown spray-in concealer on his scalp—two shades darker than his natural hair color.
His sleazy gaze zeroed in on Ruby’s bosom. “I rent by the hour or by the day.”
“I don’t want a room. I was hoping you might remember a former tenant. Cora Johnson.”
“You a cop or something?”
“Family.”
“The name sounds familiar. Maybe.” He leaned back in his chair and winked.
Jerk. Ruby pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and tossed it on the counter. He ignored the money.
“I can go get a cop if you want.”
The smile slid off his face, and he stuffed the twenty into his pocket. “I called 911 after I found her.”
“How long had she lived here?”
“She was here when I took over as manager three years ago.”
Three years? “Any idea where she’d been before that?”
“Lady, do I look like I’m friends with my renters?”
“What happened to her belongings?”
“Put them in storage.” He narrowed his eyes. “What do you want with Cora?”
“She’s my birth mother.”
“We’ve got a roomful of personal possessions from former residents.” He came out from behind the counter with a set of keys. “It’ll cost you fifty bucks to have a look.”
“On top of the twenty I gave you?”
“I’m losing rent money off the room I store everyone’s crap in.”
“This is all I have.” She held out another twenty-dollar bill, and he snatched it from her fingertips. They went outside, and he opened the door to room one, next to the office, and flipped on the light switch.
Mounds of clothes covered the king-size bed. Suitcases lined the walls. Two cardboard boxes overflowed with mismatched shoes. A plastic tote filled with kitchenware had been shoved beneath the bathroom sink. “I’m guessing you don’t remember which things were Cora’s,” Ruby said.
“The yellow suitcase was in her room, but the rest of this junk . . .” He shook his head. “Let me know when you’re done, so I can lock up.” He left the door open.
Ruby passed over the piles of clothing, boxes of shoes, and kitchen gadgets and went straight for the luggage. If suitcases could talk, she’d love to ask about all the places this one had been. Scuff marks and scratches marred the leather. No tag. She set the yellow bag on the bathroom vanity, then opened it.
Empty. Unless . . . She unzipped the side pocket. Bingo! A faded Polaroid snapshot of a bald-headed baby sleeping in a hospital bassinet. Only the word March was discernible from the smudge of blue ink along the white border. She turned the photo over. Faith.
Ruby’s first baby picture.
Cora must have borrowed a camera from a nurse or maybe a new father hanging out on the maternity floor. Ruby put the Polaroid in her purse, then carried the suitcase to the door. She had no idea why she was taking the bag—she just knew she couldn’t leave it behind. She stopped at the office, but the manager was gone. He’d probably left the property to buy booze or more hair dye with the forty bucks he’d swindled from her.
When she returned to the nursing home, she found Hank right where she’d left him—snoozing in the chair by Cora’s side. He’d aged twenty years since he’d entered the hospice wing, his complexion as gray as the ash from his beloved cigarettes. He’d hung on all these years because he hadn’t known Cora’s fate, and now that he’d found her, the woman was draining the life out of him right before Ruby’s eyes.
As much as she hated Cora for hurting Hank, she wished the woman would gain cons
ciousness and answer for her actions. But answers didn’t seem to matter to Hank. Cora had put him through hell, but all he cared about was getting one more chance to tell her that he loved her.
Careful not to wake Hank, Ruby moved to the opposite side of Cora’s bed and reached for her hand—soft as silk. Cold as ice.
You must have missed me a little if you kept my baby picture all these years.
Ruby needed to speak her piece, even if it was only in her head.
I didn’t know you tried to see me when I was sixteen. I wish we could have met, but my mother was afraid you’d be a bad influence on me.
Hank shifted in his chair, and Ruby held her breath, willing him not to wake up.
You know, it’s pretty shitty of you to die without telling Hank why you left him. Why you left me.
Cora’s fingers moved in her hand.
Hank’s got a bad heart, but I’m going to take care of him. A tear escaped Ruby’s eye, and she brushed it away.
I wish his lawyer had never found you.
It was the honest truth.
You broke his heart, Cora, but he never stopped loving you.
The tears kept coming. I know you can’t take back all the pain you caused Hank, but you can make amends for it by convincing God or whoever’s in charge up there not to call him home too soon. My daughter and I need him.
Cora’s white lashes fluttered.
I haven’t been a perfect mother, either. Like you, I’ve made mistakes. Big mistakes. But because of Hank, Mia’s giving me a chance to make it up to her.
Ruby pressed her lips together to prevent the sob in her chest from breaking free. It’s too late for you to make it up to me, but I’ll forgive you anyway.
Cora’s fingers moved again.
And when the time comes that you and Hank are together, you’d better treat him right and not run off on him again. Ruby squeezed the frail hand one final time, then stepped away from the bed. When she glanced up, Hank was staring at her. “I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s grab a bite to eat.”
“I’ll stay here.” Hank wasn’t going to let Cora die alone.
“I’ll bring you something back.” When she got into the truck, she called Mia’s cell. No answer, so she left a detailed message and a promise to phone again later.
Then Ruby sat and stared at the guardian angel’s broken wing and bawled her head off.
Chapter 35
It took Cora three days to die.
After thirty-one years, the love of Hank’s life was finally coming home. The cardboard box rested in his lap, his hand absently caressing the lid. He seemed at peace with Cora’s passing, reassuring Ruby that his spirit was a lot stronger than his frail body. He’d sat with her until the end, holding her hand as she’d drawn her last breath. Then he’d kissed her cheek and left the room.
They’d remained in Amarillo two additional days while Cora’s body had been cremated. This morning they woke early, ate breakfast at Denny’s with the Tuesday regulars, then sat in the parking lot of the Angel of Mercy Care Center until the crematory delivered the ashes. Ruby tried to keep the conversation going when they hit the road, but Hank wasn’t in the mood to talk, so they made the drive home in silence.
“Where do you want to spread her ashes?” Ruby turned onto the ranch road.
“Beneath the rosebushes. You can put my ashes there, too, before you get rid of the place.”
“What makes you think I’ll sell the property? Your granddaughter won’t want to leave the horses.” Ruby wasn’t keen on spending the rest of her life caring for old nags, but she admired her daughter for devoting herself to a good cause. Mia must have inherited that quality from Hank, because Ruby had never gone out of her way to help animals in need.
“Mia’s a good girl,” he said. “She’s got a big heart.”
“Joe thinks you should run more cattle.”
“Then you two will have to dig a second well.”
“Would you please stop talking as if you won’t be here tomorrow?”
“Might not.”
“Just because Cora’s gone doesn’t mean you have to follow in her footsteps. You’ve lived without her this long. You can hold out a few more birthdays before you see her again.”
Hank’s lips twitched.
She squinted out the windshield. “Do you see that dark cloud?”
“Smoke.”
“The barn’s on fire.” She pressed on the gas pedal.
Hank set Cora’s ashes aside and leaned forward, straining the seat belt.
When they drew closer, Ruby said, “The horses are in the corral and Friend’s barking in the driveway.” The dog paced in front of the barn doors. A shiver raced down her spine. “I don’t see Mia or Joe.” She parked in front of the house, then sprinted toward the barn.
Flames shot through the roof at the back of the structure, and smoke poured from the open door and windows. She hit a wall of heat fifteen feet from the barn and stopped. “Mia! Joe!”
Joe staggered out of the barn, carrying Mia in his arms, both coughing and covered in soot.
Heart banging against her rib cage, Ruby held her daughter’s hand as Joe carried her into the backyard. He set Mia on the porch steps, and Ruby stared into her watering eyes. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Mia wheezed.
“Joe?” Ruby tugged his shirtsleeve.
“I’m okay.” He bent over at the knees and coughed.
Ruby went into the house and grabbed bottles of water for Mia and Joe, then returned outside.
“Everyone okay?” Hank came around the corner of the house. As soon as he saw Mia, he went over and sat next to her. Ruby pressed her palm against his chest, as if the pressure would prevent his pacemaker from short-circuiting. “Don’t get riled up, Dad. Everyone’s okay.”
“I couldn’t get down from the hayloft because the ladder was on fire,” Mia said before guzzling her water.
“I called the fire department, and the sheriff’s on his way, too.” Joe stared in a trancelike state at the burning structure. “I shouldn’t have left Mia alone.”
“What do you mean, alone?” Ruby asked, but Joe ignored her and walked over to the tree, where he stood by himself and watched the barn burn.
“I saw him do it, Grandpa.” Mia rested her head on Hank’s shoulder.
“Who?” Ruby asked. “Who did you see?”
“The man who set the fire.”
Dear God. If Joe hadn’t rescued Mia . . . Ruby couldn’t finish the thought. Twice now someone had tried to harm her daughter. Joe had risked his life when he’d carried Mia out of the barn. “I’m glad you’re both okay.”
The whine of sirens grew louder as the sheriff’s patrol car escorted a fire truck and a water tanker onto the property. A section of the roof collapsed as the emergency vehicles pulled up to the property. A fireman hooked up the hose to the water tanker, and then two others carried the line to the back of the barn and attacked the flames there.
“Looks like no one was hurt.” Sheriff Carlyle glanced between Joe and Mia. “What happened to you two?”
“My daughter was in the barn,” Ruby said. “Joe saved her.”
The lawman narrowed his gaze on Mia. “What were you doing in the barn when it caught fire?”
The suspicious tone in his voice rubbed Ruby the wrong way. “You better not be accusing my daughter of setting—”
“Don’t get your tinsel in a tangle, Ruby. Just asking a question.”
“Did all the livestock get out?” A fireman walked into the yard.
“We only have the four horses.” Joe nodded to Friend, sitting at Mia’s feet. “And the dog.”
“I was asking if they knew how the blaze started,” the sheriff said.
“Arson.” The fireman pointed to the rear of the structure. “The smell of gasoline is pretty
strong in that corner. We should have this out in a few minutes.” He returned to his crew.
Ruby planted her fists on her hips and glared at the sheriff. “Don’t tell me that arson is just another prank against Hank’s ranch.”
The sheriff frowned. “I understand this is serious.”
Dumb-ass. The other incidents were serious, too.
“I saw who started the fire,” Mia said.
The sheriff removed a pen and notepad from his shirt pocket.
“I was in the hayloft, listening to my iPod. It got too hot, so I was going to leave; that’s when a man in a black ski mask walked into the barn with two gas cans. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I heard him open and close the stall doors before he ran out.”
“Why didn’t you leave the barn?” Ruby asked.
“I was scared he might be waiting outside. Then it got all smoky and the ladder caught fire.”
“Can you describe the man?” the sheriff asked.
“He wore a dark hoodie that covered his head.”
“How tall was he?”
Mia glanced at Joe, then Ruby. “Shorter than Joe but taller than my mom.”
The sheriff walked over to Joe. “Where were you when Mia was in the barn?”
“Checking the windmill I’d repaired the other day.” Joe looked at Ruby, his gaze beseeching her. “I was gone less than an hour.”
The firemen shut off the water, then stowed the hoses and waited for their boss to report in to the sheriff. “Fire’s out, but everyone should steer clear of the debris for a few days until the timber cools.”
“Thank you,” Ruby said.
After the two trucks drove off, the sheriff put away his notepad. “If you remember anything else, Mia, have your mother give me a call.” He got into his vehicle and left.
“I better have some hay delivered.” Hank went into the house.
“I’ll drive into Guymon to buy feed for the horses.”