The Loves of Ruby Dee (38 page)

“I’ll be awhile.” His hands were still working. Ruby Dee put her hand to her hip. “Well, I can wait awhile. I don’t suppose you’re gonna be all night.”

“I might.” Rub, rub.

Still she stood there in the doorway, while words got all clogged up in her throat.

He said, “Shut the door. You’re lettin’ in moths.” She went out and shut the door, hard. He wanted to be cold and close her out, so be it!

But then her mind whispered:
You’ve dealt with this before. He shut you out when you first came, and you wouldn’t let him. You are simply being as stubborn as he is.

The whisper sounded suspiciously like Miss Edna’s voice.

“Miss Edna, you never could learn not to criticize. What are you doin’ up in heaven—tellin’ God all his faults?”

But Ruby Dee knew the whisper was true. Hardy was simply being the same way he had been all along—stubborn, angry at not getting his way. Still trying to manipulate everyone.

And he was doing a darn good job of it, too.

Halfway across the drive to the house, she veered, walking beneath the big elm and over to the west pasture fence. She put her hands upon the pipe rail, cool and smooth from a fresh coat of paint. Wildcat had done it yesterday, for the party.

How beautiful the earth was at this time of evening, she thought. Any hardness and ugliness of the earth faded into shadows, leaving only the beauty. The fall night air held its own special freshness. There was a bull in the pasture, far away, munching hay. A night bird called: chuck-will’s-widow...chuck-will’s-widow. Only a few weeks ago that call had come through the night. Tonight the call was sparse, because fall was slipping up on them.

“Miss Edna,” Ruby Dee said, “I’m devoted to two people, and that just doesn’t work.”

“You are putting Hardy before Will,”
Miss Edna said.

“I know...
that’s what I was talkin’ about.” She breathed heavily. “How can I leave Hardy? He’s so alone.”

“Aloneness is his own choice...not yours.”

Yes, that was true, Ruby Dee thought with great sadness. He pushed everyone away.

Her gaze drifted downward, and something caught her eye, lying just a few feet on the other side of the fence. Why, it was the shotgun Georgia had used, trying to blow them all away!

Bending, she carefully slipped through the fence and retrieved the gun. Everyone had forgotten it, and Wildcat only saw what he was looking straight at, which would have been the fence. She slipped back through the fence, then stood there holding the gun.

She had held few guns in her life. She remembered reading somewhere that you should always point the barrel upward. What if one accidentally killed a flying bird, or shot a plane?

The moment when the gun had gone off in Georgia’s hands flashed through her mind, and then she saw Georgia pointing it at Will and Lonnie...and then Hardy stepping in front of it.

And suddenly the thought came: If Hardy had been killed, I could go on. I would have been hurt, would have had a hole in my life, missed him forever, but my life would not have changed. But if Will had been killed, my life would never, ever have been the same. Will is half my life. He is my future.

It was a startling revelation.

The next instant, she turned and hurried toward the shop. Sally came bounding beside her, as if caught up in the vigor.

Hand upon the cool ceramic knob again, and Ruby Dee opened the shop door and stepped inside. Hardy’s head came up in surprise; his hands stilled on the saddle. He looked at her, and then at the gun in her hand.

Ruby Dee said, “It’s Georgia’s shotgun.” She looked at it, too, then carried it with her as she crossed the small room. She crouched beside him, set the gun on the floor and leaned it against the saddle, then looked up at him.

“Hardy, you pride yourself on being a realist, on seeing things as they are. Isn’t that what you yourself would tell me to do—see things as they are? Oh, Hardy, I love you, and I always will need you in my life, but I love Will, too. And Will is my future. Will wants to marry me and give me children. Will wants to grow old with me, Hardy. He’ll be there for me, in sickness and health and no matter what. If you love me, as you seem to, if you love Will, you will want this for us.”

Her voice broke. She looked for signs that Hardy understood, but his face was as if carved in stone.

“Hardy, Will and I need your blessing.” She waited, holding her breath, searching his face.

He said, “You two know what you want. You don’t need nothin’ from me.”

Slowly she straightened. She had the strong urge to slap his face. Tears blurred her vision. She whirled and ran out.

Hardy sat there staring at the night outside the door she had left open. Letting in the moths.

He was mad. At Will and Ruby Dee, at himself, at the trick God had played on them and called it life. That’s all it was, he thought. Some being up there playing with all of them.

He felt as if he were losing his Jooney all over again, and the pain went deep.

* * * *

Ruby Dee went straight to her room, grabbed underwear from a drawer and ripped a blue print knit dress from its hanger. Quickly she dressed, brushed her hair, almost dry now, and hurriedly applied lipstick. Her hand was shaking. Her eyes were large in the mirror, lit only by the scarf-covered lamp.

Pausing, she looked at the objects on the dresser, Miss Edna’s urn and her mother and father’s picture and Miss Edna’s Bible. And her dream paper on the nightstand.

She decided to leave them. She’d be coming back, at least by morning.

Grabbing her purse, she hurried down the stairs and out to her car. With her hand on the door handle, she looked over at the shop. The light still burned there, and she saw Hardy clearly through the wavy window glass, still on the stool, in front of the saddle.

No, she told herself. Hardy would not shoot himself. He had too much pride for something like that, although he might get drunk. She really did think he could weather it, though, as his health was so much better.

He isn’t an invalid, she told herself. She could call later. She’d come back early in the morning.

Maybe she should go speak to him now, she thought, hesitating, her hand still on the handle. But what would she say? Oh, Lord, it was hard to leave him.

Finally, she called Sally, got into the Galaxie and drove away. She knew the lane well and didn’t really need to see to go down it, but she almost hit the mailbox, because her vision was blurred by tears.

She had stopped crying, though, by the time she turned onto Will’s road. Her heartbeat raced, as she anticipated seeing him, anticipated the look on his face. Her heart ached. She certainly hoped he still wanted her.

But then she turned into his driveway and saw the house was dark. Will wasn’t there.

After a moment, Ruby Dee said, “Come on, Sally...
.
we can be a surprise for him.” She and Sally got out of the car and went in the side door. As expected, it was unlocked.

Chapter 29

Will was so tired and depressed that when he came pulling into his driveway, he almost ran right into Ruby Dee’s Galaxie.

Jerking to a stop, he stared at the Galaxie’s rear end, illuminated in his truck headlights. He looked at the house. It was dark, except for the back-door light. Still, Ruby Dee had to be inside.

Will jumped out of the pickup and strode to the house. Opened the back door. All was quiet. A faint light shone down the hallway from his bedroom. In the bedroom doorway, he stopped.

The bedside lamp cast a shadowy glow over Ruby Dee, who was on the bed, head on the pillows and the quilt partially pulled over her. She was fully dressed, except for her boots that sat near the nightstand. Sally lay at her feet; she wagged the tip of her silky tail.

Quietly, Will went over to the bed and crouched down, gazing at Ruby Dee’s face. It was amazingly young and soft in sleep. Her womanly scent came to him—soap and powder and perfume. Something, maybe his staring at her, caused her to stir and open her eyes.

She smiled sleepily. “Oh, Will, I’ve been waitin’ for you.” The next instant she looked straight at him.

“Do you like the bed?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. It’s beautiful.”

She was here...She liked the bed.
Her eyes were warm and wanting.

“I told Hardy that we were going to be married,” she said. “He was in his shop when I left, workin’ on a saddle.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment, making silent assurances and promises.

Will leaned forward and kissed her.

When he broke away, Ruby Dee tried to pull him back, but he said, “I need a shower.” He peeled off his shirt as he strode toward the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, a towel wrapped around his hips and his hair still damp, Will returned. From the doorway, he saw Sally curled on the floor...Ruby Dee’s flowered dress and pink bra draped over the footboard of the bed...Ruby Dee beneath the covers...her tousled hair dark against the white pillow...her brown eyes, dark and steaming, gazing at him.

This time, Will thought, he intended to take his time. He slipped in beside her, and she opened her arms to him.

The scent of her filled him...the scent of her hair, like flowers, of her skin, like musk. He caressed her and savored the way she moved beneath his touch, as he had imagined she would. He savored the taste of her lips, moist and sweet and tender...and the taste of her skin, warm and salty and soft. He kissed her and he touched her, and she kissed him and touched him. Their passion flowed like a rich, full-flowing river, surging and pulsing at the banks and pounding onward with force, sucking everything along in its path.

Her breath was warm and wet upon his neck, her hands urgent and hot upon his back. His heart pounded, and she trembled and moaned and called out his name. He rolled her to her back and slipped between her legs. She lifted her hips toward him. When they came together, it was the best it had ever been.

* * * *

Dust motes and Will’s cigarette smoke mingled in the early morning sunbeams that stole between the slats of the wooden blinds. They lay there, not saying much, looking at each other, caressing each other. Will felt satisfied, happy. The feeling was strange, wonderful and a little frightening.

Ruby Dee lay facing him, a sensual dreaminess in her dark eyes. The sheet stretched carelessly across her curved hip, her hair spread back revealing her burnished pewter earring stark against her ivory neck. She rubbed her palm across his chest and down his abdomen. “Oh, Will Starr,” she said. There was satisfaction and wonderment in her voice.

He put out his cigarette, then turned to kiss her. As he caressed her breast with the back of his knuckles, he watched the heat simmer in her dreamy eyes. Watched her lips part, her breathing get shallow. He kissed her again.

She said so suddenly it startled him, “You know what?”

“What?”

“I don’t know your middle name.”

“Do you think that’s important?”

“Well, Miss Edna always did. She said you could tell a lot about a person by their name."

“What does it say about me that I don’t have a middle name?” She blinked, then looked skeptical. “You’re teasin’ me, Will.”

“I don’t have a middle name. I’m Will Starr, period. Not even William. And Lonnie is Lonnie Starr, period.”

“Well, my goodness.”

“So, would I pass Miss Edna’s test?”

She looked thoughtful. “I think she would say you are stable and reliable, yes.”

“Well, the people at the selective service found my lack of a middle name suspicious.”

She laughed at that. Yawning, she rolled onto her back and stretched, lazy and uninhibited. He saw the scars then. Vaguely he recalled feeling them before, but they were slight and hadn’t made much of an impression.

“What happened?” he asked, tracing them with his finger.

“I was burned when I was young—my nightgown caught on fire. I have these on my side, and some more here, on my legs.” She showed him the inside of her thighs.

He bent and kissed the small marks, and she lay back, trembling, as he caressed her. She was his to caress, to have and to hold.

He raised up on his elbow and looked into her eyes. “Until death do us part, Ruby Dee.”

She smiled a tremulous, teary smile and snaked her arms around his neck. "Yes...until death do us part, Will Starr.”

They kissed and loved and lay there, making plans—silly plans, like how they would breakfast on toast and peanut butter—and hang Western art on the walls, and have at least two children, and possibly four, God willing, and yes, Ruby Dee could name a girl Zoe. Will said he would give her anything she desired.

They were still lying in bed, savoring each other, when they heard a vehicle pulling into the drive.

“Who could that be so early?” Ruby Dee sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts.

Will reached for his jeans. “I don’t know.”

“I hope it’s not someone about Hardy.” Her voice and eyes were anxious. It was the first time she had mentioned the old man.

“He’s fine. It’s only been one night.” The vehicle’s door slammed. Will tugged on his boots, then bent and kissed her quickly. “Don’t go anywhere,” he shot over his shoulder as he strode down the short hallway, slipping on a shirt. Will figured it was Wildcat, or maybe Ambrose Bell. Then, through the dining room window, he glimpsed the old man on the narrow cement walk, leaning on his cane, sunlight bright upon his battered straw Resistol. Will’s steps slowed. The old man looked bent and gray.

Will opened the door and stepped outside, softly closing the door behind him.

The old man looked at him, and Will looked back.

Will said, “If you’ve come for breakfast, you’re a mite early. We haven’t even made coffee yet.”

The old man said, “I imagine you’ve had better things to do than make coffee.” He was looking at Will’s chest, where he hadn’t buttoned his shirt.

“Yes, sir,” Will said.

That stood there a few seconds. Then the old man said, “I didn’t come for breakfast. I came to give Ruby Dee somethin’ she asked for.” He paused, and his eyes were sharp. “She seemed to think it important that I give my blessin’ to you both. I came to give you that—you and her. You both have my blessing.”