by Jan Moran
“Married?” Her mother breathed out a sigh of partial relief. “Well, where in heaven’s name is he now?”
Ruby twisted her mouth to one side. “Still in Rome, I suppose. Maybe dead, for all I know. He stopped writing to me in September.” Since then, Ruby had gone through a range of emotions from devastation to worry to anger to dread.
Her mother rubbed Ruby’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that happened.”
“Me, too. I didn’t want to worry you.” She slid her hand into her mother’s. “I had to keep working, and I can’t very well marry Granger now.”
“No.” Her mother grew quiet. Finally, she asked, “Was he nice, or…?”
“Niccolò was wonderful, Mama. He was all I could have ever wished for in a husband. I only wish I could reach him. I’m afraid something might have happened to him.”
Having shared her secret with her mother gave Ruby a measure of relief. She wished she could have told her sooner, but she hadn’t wanted to burden her with more grief. The deep lines in her mother’s face confirmed that Ruby had made the right decision.
Ruby shifted a log in the fireplace with a poker. “Dad’s going to be furious, isn’t he?”
“I’ll talk to him first,” Mercy said. “And I want you to know how much I appreciate what you’re doing for us.” She glanced around the modest kitchen. “This place might not be fancy enough for some people, but this land is our home. Because of your efforts, we’ve made it this far. If the rains come this spring, I pray we can catch up on our debt payments. Then you won’t have to go back to Hollywood. Maybe that will help sway him.”
“But I like working, Mama. I want to give my baby a chance at a good life.”
Mercy sighed. “Have we lost you already?”
“I’ll visit when I can.” Ruby leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder.
“Think about what’s best for your child,” Mercy said.
Even if Ruby wanted to quit Hollywood now, she couldn’t. If the drought continued, her family would still need help. Even if they caught up, their debts were still more than they could pay. Now, more than ever, Ruby had to maintain her career. She would have to figure out a way to care for her child and work.
Ruby pulled her robe tighter and cupped the warm mug, yet the warmth did little to alleviate her trembling hands. “Are you going to tell Dad right away?”
“Might as well. You’re pretty far along.” Mercy patted Ruby’s knee with a thin hand. “He might be madder than a wet cat at first, but we’ll have a sweet grandbaby to celebrate soon.”
During the filming in early February, Ruby had felt her baby’s first movements, which made her feel closer to Niccolò.
Yet with every passing day, Ruby became more worried that something dreadful had happened to Niccolò. To suddenly cease communication was uncharacteristic of him. No one was that ashamed of their writing.
Ruby blinked back the tears that seemed to spring so quickly to her eyes now. Niccolò said he’d taken a job in construction to earn money for his passage. Maybe he’d been injured at work.
Perhaps he’d been so severely injured that he’d died.
As Ruby pondered this thought, it slowly came into horrifying focus. She could think of no other reason that he would stop writing. Even if his father had forced him to annul the marriage—which she doubted Niccolò would do—her husband would have written to her. Niccolò was forthright, and he lived by a code of honor.
Or would he have been so ashamed he couldn’t tell her?
Blinking hard, Ruby bowed her head. It had been five-and-a-half months since he’d written his last letter. On the film set, she’d read in a magazine that if a spouse had gone missing, a person could annul a marriage by publishing it in the newspaper. A judge would have the final say. She wondered if that was the same in Italy. Did Niccolò think she was missing? Ruby sucked in a breath. She’d send another letter right away.
Her father walked in, banging the kitchen door behind him. “Morning,” he said, his voice rough with cold.
“Coffee’s ready, Harrison,” Mercy said, rising to pour a cup for him. “I’ll have your breakfast in a moment.” She hurried to the stove.
“I’ll do it, Mama.” Ruby reached for a blackened cast-iron skillet.
“You’re a movie star and you cook?” Her father shook his head. “How’d we get so lucky?” He chuckled at his joke.
Ruby shot her mother a look. Would he still think that after she told him? Doubtful. She and her mother quickly fell quiet. Ruby took bacon from the icebox and arranged strips in the cast-iron skillet. From a nearby basket, she scooped up several eggs—the production of their henhouse tenants.
While Ruby tended the bacon, Mercy opened the old Hoosier cabinet and reached for dry ingredients. She poured flour into a ceramic bowl, followed by baking soda and a dash of salt. Deftly, she cut cold butter into the mixture before adding buttermilk until it was just the right consistency for fluffy biscuits.
Harrison shivered. “Got more coffee?”
Ruby took the pot from the stove and refilled his cup.
Her father narrowed his eyes. “Why are you two so quiet? You’re usually babbling on about something or other.”
“Now, Harrison,” Mercy said. “Don’t start on Ruby. She’s just arrived.”
Her father shook his head. “If you two are keeping something from me, Mercy, I swear—”
“I’m going to have a baby,” Ruby said, cutting him off. His eyes bulged, and she had to get out her words while she could. “I got married in Italy.”
Harrison slammed his hand on the kitchen table, sending hot coffee splashing onto the wood and dripping over the edge. His face darkened with anger, and in a flash, he was towering over her.
Cornered in the kitchen, Ruby backed against the Hoosier cabinet. She was trembling, and every nerve in her body was on alert.
“I’ll kill that son of a bitch,” he yelled through gritted teeth, his fists raised above Ruby. “And you, you hussy. Just a cheap actress now, aren’t you?”
Mercy slapped his arm. “Harrison, stop it. That’s no way to handle this.”
Ruby saw her father jerk his hand back, his palm open. Before he could strike her, she slid to her feet and ducked away, instinctively shielding her belly with one hand.
“Oh, no you don’t.” With his face contorted in anger, her father grabbed for her legs. Instead, he caught her robe and yanked it.
All Ruby could think to do was to run and protect her child.
She slipped from the robe. Breathing hard, Ruby scrambled toward the back door and thrust it open, tripping over the back steps. Glancing back, she saw her father right behind her, ranting about her lost virtue and calling her names she’d never heard him use.
In an instant, rage over his daughter’s impurity blinded her father to reason. Harrison’s eyes blazed with a red fury she’d never seen, and his insults burned in her ears, rendering her speechless.
Pressing her hands against her ears, Ruby raced toward the barn, ignoring the icy air and the rocks that cut her bare feet.
As her father gained on her, he stripped off his belt and gripped it in his hand. “I’ll whip that devil child out of you,” he screamed with a savagery she’d never heard from him.
Ruby cried out in disbelief at his insanity, his crazed actions terrifying her. Did he intend to whip her like a belligerent horse? Her own father? Even a horse didn’t deserve such wrath.
Inside the barn, she flung open the stall gate to her quarter horse and swung herself onto Blaze’s bare chestnut back in a swift motion. Ruby’s breath formed clouds in the cold air as the horse trotted from the barn. Shivering, she clung to Blaze for warmth.
Still swearing, Harrison pounded toward her with his belt raised in his fist, cursing a blue streak. Her mother ran behind him, trying to stop him, but Mercy was no match for him. He flung her off his back and sent her tumbling to the ground.
“This is all your fault,” he bellowed at Mercy. “You’re the
one who filled her mind with fancy Hollywood dreams.” He raised his belt to her.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” Ruby screamed. “It’s me you want to whip.” She gestured to him. “Come on.”
Ruby tilted her chin in defiance, goading him. Fearing her father would take out his wrath on her mother, she trotted past him, leading him away from Mercy. When Harrison was far enough away from her mother, Ruby turned her horse. Clicking her tongue, she rushed Blaze back to her mother. Reaching out for Mercy, she cried, “Grab my hand and get on.”
Glancing back at her husband, Mercy hesitated. “I shouldn’t leave him like this.”
“If he can’t get me, he’s going to hurt you. We must get out of here.” Tightening her legs around Blaze, Ruby clasped her mother’s hand and pulled her up behind her, using every bit of strength she had. In the cold air, the muscles in her back and abdomen exploded from the sudden exertion.
“Hang on,” Ruby called over her shoulder. When Mercy wrapped her arms around her, Ruby could feel her shivering. Whether it was fear or cold, she couldn’t tell. Both, probably.
“Hut, hut,” Ruby cried, squeezing her legs and lifting herself slightly on the horse. At her command, Blaze charged.
The frosty wind cut through Ruby’s nightgown like a thousand pinpricks. Within moments Ruby couldn’t feel her lips, yet she let her horse gallop.
Ruby didn’t slow her mare until she reached her sister’s house.
Patricia raced outside with her husband and held the horse while Michael helped Mercy down, then he reached for Ruby.
“Be careful with her,” Mercy cried out.
“Are you hurt?” Michael asked, alarmed
“She’s pregnant.” A mixture of concern and fright filled Mercy’s wide eyes. She glanced back the way they’d come. “Harrison is after her. He’s plenty mad, and I’m scared.”
Ruby slid her frozen limbs from the horse until Michael caught her and eased her down.
Though her father had essentially arranged Patricia’s marriage, she’d been lucky. Michael was one of the sweetest guys Ruby knew. He was a gentle giant who always had a quick smile and a kind word for everyone.
“Aw, Harrison will settle down, don’t you worry,” Michael said. “Andrew stayed over last night. Harrison won’t get past us. Let’s get you ladies inside.”
“Please put Blaze away,” Ruby pleaded, fearing what her father might do in his uncontrolled rage. She’d seen his anger before, but never, never like this.
“My brother will put her in the barn,” Michael said.
Ruby tried to take a step, but her knees buckled. Michael caught her, then swept her into his arms as if she were a child.
Patricia helped Mercy up the steps, and once they were all inside the house, she brought out blankets and added another log onto the fire. Tucking a blanket around Ruby, Patricia drew back with a frown. “Poor child. Your nose is beet red, and your lips are blue with cold.” She rubbed Ruby’s arms vigorously. “I’ll get a hot water bottle and put on a kettle for tea.”
Huddled on the couch next to her mother, Ruby watched her sister hurry around. With dark blond curls that framed a delicate face, Patricia wasn’t quite as tall or athletic as Ruby. Where Ruby was outspoken, Patricia was the sweet, long-suffering companion to her husband. They were well-suited for each other, and it was beyond anyone’s understanding why they hadn’t been blessed with a houseful of children yet. Michael had even built a home with plenty of bedrooms. Ruby had often wondered if those empty rooms were bitter reminders.
Michael locked the doors and drew the curtains. He woke his brother, who quickly pulled on overalls and ran to secure Blaze in the barn.
Ruby was still so cold she couldn’t speak. Her teeth chattered, and she couldn’t control her shivering. Her mother pulled her close, and as she did, a sharp pain erupted in Ruby’s side. Something wasn’t right. She smoothed a trembling hand around her softly rounded abdomen.
The child Ruby carried was a part of Niccolò. If she could never hold her beloved in her arms again, at least she could cradle their baby, created with the purity of their love. Such a child would be a wonder and a blessing—not the ugly word her father had hurled at her. If she lost this baby now, she would be devastated.
Outside, truck tires crunched on the gravel driveway, and an engine backfired. Sitting beside Ruby, Mercy yelped and clutched her closer. Ruby prayed her father would calm down, but then she heard him yelling outside the house, and a new fear seized her.
This madness was all her fault. She’d driven her father insane.
“Patricia, get them into a bedroom,” Michael said grimly, letting his brother through the back door before locking it. “Andrew and I will handle your father.”
Chapter 25
Texas Hill Country, 1953
* * *
Ruby stared at the barren, frostbitten hills from the bedroom window of her sister’s home, where she’d been staying since seeking shelter from her father a week ago. Another round of coughing racked her body, and she fought to catch her breath.
Outside of her room, a door slammed, and she recoiled under the thick blanket. She could still hear the deafening argument between her father and brother-in-law that had shaken the walls. Pulling the quilt that Patricia had made up to her neck, she listened to voices in the hallway.
Her mother opened the door. “Ruby, Doc Schmidt is here.” Mercy held the door for the old country doctor.
Doc Schmidt shuffled in. “Miss Ruby, I hear you have a bad cough.”
“Among other conditions,” Mercy said, throwing a pointed look at Ruby. “She says she was married in a church, though.”
“Yes, I was, Mama, and I can speak for myself.” Ruby turned to the gray-haired physician who’d delivered her in her parents’ bed, but a coughing fit seized her before she could speak.
“There, there.” The doctor latched on his stethoscope and began listening to her back and chest. While he continued checking her vitals, Ruby told him about her pregnancy.
Doc nodded. “Any problems so far?”
Ruby shook her head. “I was fine before I caught this cold.”
“Don’t forget to tell him about the blood,” Mercy said softly.
Drawing his eyebrows together, Doc continued his exam. “Babies are always a blessing,” he said in a pleasant tone that had likely comforted many mothers before her. “Who’s the lucky father?”
Ruby told him about Niccolò and her marriage in Italy, while her mother sat in a chair and fretted with a cotton handkerchief. Her thin shoulders shivered.
“And will he be joining you soon?” Doc asked.
Ruby clenched her jaw, unsure of what to say. “He was delayed.”
“Oh? I hope not too long.”
Ruby pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes to stem sudden tears. In the corner, her mother cleared her throat.
The doctor paused and looked between them. “Is there a problem?”
“Her husband suffered an accident,” Mercy said softly. “Ruby is alone now.”
“We’re not sure,” Ruby managed to say. “I haven’t heard from him.”
“It’s been months,” Mercy added.
If Niccolò were alive, Ruby believed he would have contacted her. But now, so much time had passed. There could be no other explanation.
Doc shook his head. “Such a young widow. I’m truly sorry. I’ll do everything I can for you and your baby.”
Widow. Ruby gagged at the label. Is that what I am? Her chest constricted in anguish, and she squeezed her eyes against this probable truth. Ruby covered her face, unable to process this likelihood as its gravity left her void of breath. Yet, with every passing day, the probability increased.
The doctor talked to Ruby about her lung condition, calling it pneumonia. “This is serious, but fortunately, you’re young. Get plenty of rest and fluids, and call me if it worsens. As for your pregnancy, if you want a healthy baby, you’ll need complete bed rest.”
The
doctor went on to say things that Ruby didn’t understand, though her mother listened with a solemn expression.
“We’ll make sure she stays in bed, Doc.” Mercy stood to see him out.
Bed rest. As much as Ruby hated staying off her feet, she would do anything for this child.
Outside the door, Ruby could hear her mother and the doctor talking. She could only make out a few words Doc said. “Several years…presumption of death…in order to remarry…or adoption.”
I will have none of that. Despair lodged in Ruby’s chest, weighing on her like a massive anvil of iron. Her mother and father, the doctor, her agent, her aunt. So many people were against her decision to have and keep this baby. Ruby gulped and breathed, smoothing a hand over her belly to focus instead on the new life she carried.
That is what Niccolò would have wanted.
And Patricia, who was the only person who seemed as enthralled with the prospect of a new baby as Ruby. What would she have done without her sister?
After Doc Schmidt left, Mercy returned to Ruby’s room a little while later. “I spoke to Patricia, and she insists that you stay here.”
Ruby steeled herself against the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Her father had banned her from returning home, saying that she had brought shame to their family. But Ruby would be safe with Patricia and Michael. She had to be practical now.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Ruby croaked. She started to add that she should be welcome in the house she was paying for, but the worry in her mother’s face silenced her. Ruby would continue paying the mortgage but only for her mother’s sake and comfort.
“Shh, you need to rest,” Mercy said. “You heard Doc.”
Wheezing, Ruby shifted in bed. “I didn’t understand a lot of it.”
Mercy perched on the edge of the bed and ran her hand across Ruby’s hair. “My poor, darling daughter. What a terrible year you’ve had, and now this.”
“Mama, it wasn’t all terrible.” Ruby touched the silver half-heart she would never remove. Warm feelings flooded her as she thought of Niccolò and her summer in Italy. “It was…like living in a dream.” But then I woke up. She drew a labored breath and asked, “What was all that Doc was talking about?”