Love Starts with Elle (37 page)
Ruby sobbed, shaking her head, mumbling, slowly sinking to the floor.
Darcy disappeared in the powder room off the front left, returning with a tissue box, and knelt next to Ruby.
More gallery visitors entered, spotted Ruby on the floor, then exited.
“This is why you paint, Elle,” Heath whispered. “You touch people in the hidden places.”
Maybe it’d been five minutes, perhaps fifteen, but when Ruby lifted her head, she gazed back at Elle with glossy eyes.
“My father was a musician,” she said, propping herself up with her hand flat on the floor. “Traveled all over the south with a blues band, sending home what money he didn’t spend on food and women for my brother James and me. I was twelve years old, hiding five-and one-dollar bills from my mama in a cigar box under my bedroom floor board so she wouldn’t spend it on bourbon.”
“You never told me this story, Ruby,” Darcy said.
Heath shoved Elle closer.
“I’ve pushed so much out of my mind, Darcy. We lived on the outskirts of Charleston, nothing much more than a shack. But James and I kept it clean, studied hard in school, looked after Mama.”
“What is it about the feathers, Ruby?” Darcy asked.
“So many things,” she muttered. “One hot summer afternoon, right after the war, Daddy was heading off to one of his gigs. Mama fought him like there was no tomorrow. I hid under my bed, the mattress springs snatching my plaits, tucking my head in my arms, crying, praying for Mama to leave him alone. Doors slammed. Mama cracked Daddy’s cheek with her hand, begging and screaming for him to stay home, get a job shrimping or working construction. But music was Daddy’s true love.” Darcy ran her hands over Ruby’s shoulders. “My mama warned me against a tuba player.
“Next thing I hear is ‘
Pssst
, Ruby, baby.’ There was Daddy standing at my window with two perfect white feathers.” Ruby gazed up at the painting. “Just like the ones in this painting.”
“They fell out of nowhere,” Elle offered. “One in a prayer chapel, two at my studio.”
Ruby shoved off the floor and Heath steadied her with a touch to her elbow. She dusted off her navy linen suit. “Daddy claimed they were from our guardian angels, said they’d keep James and me safe. But I wanted Daddy safe. “Don’t worry about me none. If the Germans couldn’t kill me . . . He was larger than life, my daddy.”
“What happened to him?” Elle asked.
Ruby glanced back at her, then strode over to the painting. “Never came home. When his letters stopped, Mama tried to find him, but we never got to the truth. We heard he took up with a white girl in Mississippi and got lynched. Another rumor was the band’s car went off the road in a bad storm. Mama lived for bourbon. James and I left home as soon as we could. I’d stored Daddy’s feathers in a cedar box under the bedroom floorboard. During my college years, the house burned down, the fire destroying the feathers. All I had left of my daddy were those feathers. I grieved for them until now.”
“Ms. Barnett, please, take the painting. My gift to you.”
“Miss Garvey, I’m a reviewer. If I received art as gifts, I’d never be able to write an honest word. I buy the art I love.” Ruby’s gentle laugh dispelled the last ribbons of tension. “Darcy, I’d like to purchase this piece, please.”
“Wise decision, Ruby.” Darcy gave Elle the I-told-you glare.
“I haven’t cried over my daddy in many years, but a debut artist brought the harsh reviewer to her knees.”
“Perhaps I had help from the Divine.”
Ruby retrieved her handbag, taking out her notepad and pen. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
Truman and Lady had volunteered to keep Tracey-Love if Heath wanted to go to Elle’s opening night.
Push, push, hint, hint.
It’d been a long time since a girl’s father observed Heath with a glint in his eye. On second thought, had any father looked at him with a glint in his eye?
Ava’s pop had merely given him the once-over with a low grunt and said, “He’ll do.”
Heath liked having Truman’s respect and cloaked blessing, but he was days away from leaving St. Helena and did not want to start what he couldn’t finish.
Elle’s good-bye to Jeremiah still echoed over the murky waters of Coffin Creek.
She turned into her parents’ drive behind him and Heath met her at the front steps. “I can’t shake Ruby’s story.”
“Every time I picture her sitting on the floor, sobbing, I tear up.” Elle gripped his shirt sleeve. “It’s humbling, Heath. To be used by God when my faith was so weak, after being so angry with you and Darcy.”
He slipped his hand into hers. “This is only the beginning, Elle. You probably won’t know how many people your work touches, but Ruby is a drop in the bucket.”
She pressed her forehead to his chest and wept softly. He held her, letting the Spirit complete what He’d begun.
“I’m a mess,” Elle said, finally stepping away, wiping her cheeks. “Good thing Sara Beth’s makeup is waterproof.”
“You’re lovely, Elle, tears and all.” Heath pinched her chin with his fingers and brushed under her eyes. “But you’d better tell Sara Beth her waterproof mascara formula isn’t working.”
Elle started for the house. “Um, no, you tell her. Last time I gave input . . . was the last time.”
Just inside the Garvey door, Tracey-Love accosted Heath. “Daddy.” Then Elle. “Miss Elle.”
Rio smacked them with her dazzling wand. “We’re princesses.”
“I see. Very pretty.”
Tracey-Love patted her satin play dress. “I’m Cinder-nella. Rio’s S-snow White.”
Heath scooped her up. “And I’m your handsome prince.”
“No, no.” TL laughed as though he’d lost his marbles. “You’re my daddy. Zac Efron is my prince.”
Heath set Tracey-Love down with a gaping glance at Elle.
What
the heck?
“Who is Zac Efron?”
“
High School Musical
star. Rio’s babysitter has a teenaged daughter.”
She shook her head.
Truman clapped him on the back. “Welcome to my world, son. Can I get you a root beer?”
“Please, and leave out the root.”
Elle propped her elbows on the counter, grinning, munching on a couple of baby carrots.
Screaming and swooping, touching everything they passed with their sparkling wands, TL and Rio disappeared upstairs.
Elle kissed her mama’s cheek as she carried empty ice-cream bowls to the dishwasher.
“Tell me, how was the big debut? Elle, we’re going by the gallery tomorrow night with Doug and Esther.”
“Better than I thought. People seemed to like the paintings.”
Heath made a face. Ten minutes ago, she’d wept against him, moved by how the Lord used her. “Elle, tell them what happened.”
“It’s nothing, really, but . . .” She recounted Ruby Barnett’s story with Heath interjecting the adjectives and details Elle was too shy or humble to add.
Truman and Lady listened. None of it seemed to surprised them.
“This is only the beginning, Elle,” Truman said.
“Exactly what I told her.”
“We’ll see. Ruby Barnett is one woman.”
Heath chugged his root beer and talked a minute of golf with Truman while Elle discussed Julianne and Danny’s November wedding with Lady.
When Tracey-Love popped into the kitchen, Heath herded her toward the van. “It’s past your bedtime, kiddo.”
“See you back at the ranch,” Elle said as she steered Rio toward her car.
One minute down the road, TL fell asleep. Heath glimpsed at her in the rearview mirror, slumped over in her car seat. Returning to New York was going to be way harder than he ever imagined.
At the cottage, Heath scooped up Tracey-Love. Hard to believe the dog-tired girl had been a fairy princess an hour ago.
With Elle, he tucked the sleeping beauties into bed and flipped off the light.
“Want to sit on the screen porch? It’s a nice night.” He wasn’t ready to end his evening with her.
“Yes, I want to sit and think, let tonight sink all the way in.”
A dewy scent perfumed the breeze as it brushed against the screen. “Rain,” Heath said absently, moving his chair closer to Elle’s.
“There’s this . . .”—she pressed her hand over her stomach— “. . . feeling, as if I’ve just done something I was born to do. Isn’t that weird?”
“No, I think we all have those special moments.”
“What if y’all hadn’t taken the paintings? What if Darcy had caved and returned them to me? What a blessing I would’ve missed.”
“But you didn’t. So don’t think about it.”
“This year . . .”—emotion slanted her words—“. . . was so very hard. But God in His mercy and wisdom is redeeming it, redeeming me.”
Heath put the iron rocker into motion with the heel of his foot. “One sleepless night after Ava died, I clicked on the TV, stopping for some unknown reason to watch a very dramatic preacher. Man, he was annoying, but he said one thing that hit me so hard it carried me through the next months. Jesus, he said, knew the splendor and glory of life after the Cross. It’s why He hung there, died, and rose again, making all of heaven’s beauty available to us. Everyone. I remember he said ‘everyone’ over and over. I understood he meant me—broken, hurting, angry Heath McCord. Made my trial seem bearable.”
“It’s true, just hard to comprehend.”
“I read Ava’s letter.”
Elle turned to see his face. “When?”
“About a week ago.”
“Can you tell me . . . I mean, was it a good letter?”
“It was odd reading her words, mentioning things as if they were yesterday, but knowing it’d been over a year. She apologized for our fight, but I couldn’t even remember some of the things we said.”
“Are you glad?”
“Glad I read it, glad she wrote it. I want to save it for Tracey-Love so she can read a little about her mother’s passion for the job she was doing, see her handwriting. In this computer age, I’m not sure I have anything of hers handwritten. A few cards, maybe.”
Elle sat back in her chair. “Doesn’t seem fair that you can’t respond.”
“A response now would only be for me and my comfort. She’s in a better place, doesn’t need my apology. But there was a final part to her letter.”
“Good or bad?”
“She was pregnant.” The wind shoved the screen making the porch lights appear to sway.
Elle jerked around, her shock showing in her wide eyes. “Oh my gosh, you’re kidding. You didn’t know? At all? Did you want more children?”
“We’d changed up”—he cleared his throat—“some things, so it was a possibility, but we weren’t trying. In the letter, she was very excited.”
Slipping out of her chair, Elle knelt next to him, her hand easy on his knee, like the night in the ER. “Are you okay?”
He wrapped their fingers together. “I spent a few days thinking and processing, praying. I was a little mad, but I’m tired of being ruled by death, ruled by the past. I’m happy to know I’ll see another child some day, but it’s done.” Heath peered into her eyes. “Does that make me sound harsh?”
“No, just human and that you’re finally healing.”
He traced the curve of her jaw. “I’m going to miss you.”
“And what am I going to do without you, carving angels in my yard, teaching me to break china, kicking me in the pants when I want to quit?” She pressed her cheek against his palm.
“You are so much stronger than you know, Elle. Don’t you know how much you’ve brought healing to me and Tracey-Love, caused me to open my heart again?” Brushing his hand over her sleek hair, he thought if his heart let go, he’d cradle her on his lap and kiss . . . “I just remembered something.”
Elle slipped back into her chair as he went inside and returned with a CD, flashing it in front of Elle before popping it into the boom box.
“What is it? I didn’t see the jacket.”
“You’ll see.” He flicked the On switch, pushed a button, and the jazzy melody of “Neither One of Us” spilled from the speakers. “Dance with me.”
As she stepped into him, Heath inhaled the scent of her skin, felt the curve of her hip beneath his palm, and led her in a slow sway to the melody of their beating hearts.
After buckling Tracey-Love into her car seat, Heath jogged up the studio steps two at a time. “Elle, you ready?” The door rattled under his light knock.
She opened, sleepy-eyed and sexy. His hand tingled with the ghost feeling of holding her the other night. “What’s up?”
“Got something to show you.” He followed her halfway across the studio, but kept his distance. Their last dance had awakened a spark of love and he didn’t want to fan any flames. “What’d you do last night, party?”
“Ha, yeah, me and Mama, helping Jules plan her wedding, woo, tying one on.” She stooped to the mini-fridge, twisted open a Diet Coke. “I can’t wake up today. After prayer, I came home and fell asleep.”
He made a face. “You okay, planning your sister’s wedding?”
“Oh my gosh, yes. Please, get the girl married.” She raked her hand through her tousled hair. “I’m way over my own marriage fiasco. Besides, I haven’t seen Jules this happy since before Rio was born.” She offered him a cola.
He declined. “But can you spare an hour or two to go with me? I want to show you something.”
“Sure, I was going to pick up Rio from the babysitter for Jules.