Ruby's mother pulled Ruby to her and hugged her hard. "I surely wish she was, too. Why don't you write her about it and see what she says? Then you can go to the post office and mail all of today's letters, and pop in and say hi to Miss Mattie for me. You need chicken feed, too."
"I know. But Miss Mattie is such a crab."
"She has a lot on her mind, sweetie. Will you go for me? I've got to get this column finished before the end of the afternoon."
Ruby sighed. She helped herself to a slice of zucchini bread.
"Kiss me," said her mother.
Ruby did.
"It'll all work out, I promise."
Ruby rolled her eyes at her mother and headed for the back door.
Her mother smiled and called after Ruby. "I hear that Peterson's Egg Ranch has been sold. Ask Miss Mattie if she knows the particulars, would you? And don't forget to check the mail!"
The knothole had never looked so empty. Box 72 was empty, too. Miss Dot, the postmistress, smiled at Ruby. "There's still another truck delivery to come in, honey. I bet today is the day."
"Yes, ma'am," said Ruby, and she smiled back, but she was worried. She hadn't had one letter, not one. Maybe Miss Eula had already forgotten her. Then she remembered what her mama had said: "Nobody's had a letter yet, Ruby. Give Miss Eula time to step off the plane!"
She sighed and mailed the four letters she'd written that afternoon and walked to Miss Mattie's store, where Miss Mattie handed her a broom and pointed. Ruby swept the wooden floors and filled the cracker barrel and listened to customers talk about bunions and the too-hot weather. As she finished her string of chores and tried to hang the broom on its peg in the back room, Miss Mattie towered over her. "What could be better than a good job to take your mind off your troubles?" Before Ruby could answer, she added, "You come see me again on Friday."
That was that. It sounded definite, done, over.
Miss Mattie strode away to wait on a customer. Ruby gave a heavy sigh and walked toward the back door. Standing outside, with her face pressed against the screen, was Melba Jane. She had three small Lathams hanging on to her legs.
Ruby sucked in her breath. "What are you doing here?"
Melba Jane sniffed. "It's a free country. It's none of your beeswax why I'm here." Melba's formerly straight hair now fell in a mass of ringlets around her face. She shook them at Ruby.
"What's the matter with your head?"
"Nothing! It's a new hairdo. Sprayed magazine says it's the latest look."
"It looks like you stuck your finger in a light socket."
"It does not! I take time with my looks, unlike some people."
Melba's littlest sister pulled on Melba's shorts. "Ice pop!"
"In a minute, Violet!"
Ruby pushed her unruly hair out of her face with both hands. Melba watched her carefully through the screen door. "For instance," she sneered, "look at those hands! Your nails are ... disgraceful! I bet your palms are full of calluses, from all that ball playing and tree climbing you da Reàlly, Ruby, it's sooo unladylike."
Ruby's neck grew hot and a bad taste rose in her mouth, but she remembered Miss Eula's advice. "You know what, Melba Jane? You just wish you had a life half as interesting as mine—that's what's wrong with you. I'm going to ignore you, even though yob are so full of it, if you were a tick, you'd burst. I'm ignoring you. Now go away."
"Ha! You wish! What an exciting life you lead! Sweeping floors for Miss Mattie!" Melba opened the screen door and jeered at Ruby. "And now your dear, sweet grandmother is gone, and you don't have any body left to hide behind and pretend everything is peachy-fine."
Ruby's face colored. Her heart beat hard in her chest. With a short, hard shove, she pushed past Melba Jane and walked stiffly toward her silver maple.
"You keep your ugly hands off me!" yelled Melba Jane. "You'll be sorry! Hey! Come back here, you chicken!"
Ruby kept walking. She held her arms stiffly at her sides, her hands clenched into fists. "Ignore her." She pictured Melba as a fat balloon with ringlets, rising into the air and floating away.
"Bwauck-bwauck-bwauck!" Melba's sisters began bwaucking along with her. Ruby kept walking. "Bwauck-bwauck-bwauck!"
"I can't ignore her!" Ruby wheeled, but Melba had shooed herself and her sisters into the mercantile, so Ruby shouted after her. "You're the chicken! You don't even know how to climb a tree!" But she knew no one heard her.
Ruby reached her silver maple and gave it a little pat. She had climbed it a hundred times, and now she did again. She leaned into a wide V in the branches and closed her eyes, and soon her heart slowed to its regular rhythm and she even felt drowsy. She looked up through the leaves at patches of clear sky ... the same sky Miss Eula said she would be under, right now. It didn't feel like it. She climbed down her tree and looked in the knothole, out of habit. No mail. She decided to try the post office one more time before she walked home.
* * *
June 9
Dear Ruby, Ruby, Ruby!
Aloha! Aloha means hello AND good-bye in Hawaiian. Aloha-hello! I am here!
The plane taxied onto the runway. I walked out of it. Flowers, flowers, flowers! People, people, people! calling "Aloha!" and putting leis around my neck and kissing me on the cheek. Pretty soon, I had flower necklaces up to my lips! They smelled like heaven. I will send you a picture.
It WAS heaven to see Johnson, Annette, and the baby, who still doesn't have a name, she is adorable, Ruby. You will love your new cousin. She was wearing a muumuu—just like the ones Johnson has sent me, only smaller, of course.
Everyone here wears flip-flops or goes BAREFOOT!
I will write more later—we are going to a luau. I am going to dance the hula and eat poi. What is poi, you ask? who knows! I'll find out and give you a report. I have not received any letters from you yet but I suspect, since it's only been two days, they are coming any moment now ... I do miss you so.
Love, love, love, and Aloha-good-bye!
your (excited) grandmother,
Miss Eula
* * *
* * *
June 14
Well, Good Garden of Peas, Miss Happiness,
Your letter was exciting. I was depressed at first. I was sure you would hate Hawaii. Maybe by now you do.
For your information, Melba Jane is curling her hair so loopy it looks like a heap of catfish guts. It's very attractive. I told her so.
I read your letter to the chickens. Then I read them from "anchovy" to "angel" in the dictionary. Ivy has asked me for a bedtime story every night, since she is egg sitting. "No violence," she said.
I am sweeping floors for Miss Mattie. It is total torture.
Every time I walk past our silver maple tree, I feel like an empty paper bag.
Here is another picture of me.
Free advice: Don't eat anything called poi.
Love,
your (awfully lonesome) granddaughter,
Ruby L.
Pee Ess: Someone is buying Peterson's Egg Ranch!
* * *
* * *
June 13
Dear Wasting Away,
I received the ten letters you sent me the day I left! What a lucky number! But my goodness, I hope you have pulled out of your WOE IS ME.
Ruby, Hawaii is COLORFUL There are acres of sugarcane growing here! No cotton. Pineapples, too! Along the side of the road there are pineapple stands. You pay ten cents for a slice, cut fresh. The juice runs down your arm and chin.
The baby is two months old today and finally has a name: Leilani. It means Flower of Heaven, in Hawaiian. She looks me in the eye and says, "Thhhwwaaaaagh!" A genius, of course.
I walked yesterday on a sugar-sand beach. It was so soft, Ruby. Not like the rough shore around Lake Jasper. And the waves! "Come and play," they sang. So I did. I jumped in. My muumuu mushroomed around me. No one even noticed! Here, everyone jumps into the waves!
I feel like I've always belonged here. There are even pink houses. Lots o
f pink here. But no you. I do miss you.
Love and Aloha,
your (content) grandmother,
Miss Eula
* * *
* * *
June 19
Dear Too Happy,
Well, I don't think "Thhhwwaaaaagh!" is anything to write home about. I write full sentences, I write long letters. And what kind of a name is Leilani? Does she have a middle name? Maybe I can pronounce THAT.
For your information, I am sending you a paper I got in the mail from my next year's teacher, it is full of questions for me to answer. I am making a copy for you.
Melba Jane's hair looks worse by the day. I feel soooo sorry for her. At least she quit wearing those tappy shoes.
I am teaching the chickens to dance. Bemmie has two left feet. Bess steps on her all the time. Their favorite song is "Why Did You Leave Me, Miss Eula?"
Free advice: Mama says pineapple is NOT good for young babies, so don't give any to that kid. Try hot chili peppers. Or poi.
Love,
your (just trying to be helpful) granddaughter,
Ruby L.
Pee Ess: I can't believe we have a new teacher at Halleluia School. No one new comes here.
* * *
Welcome to Mr. Ishee's Fourth Grade!
In a few weeks, you will be entering fourth grade. I will be your teacher. I am new to Halleluia School, and I am looking forward to getting to know you. So we can become acquainted more quickly, please fill out this questionnaire and return it to me in the envelope I have enclosed. Have fun with your summer! I can't wait to meet you!
What is your full name?
Ruby Garnet Lavender
Where do you live?
I live right outside of Halleluia—in fact, I've measured it, and I live 1,347 steps from the schoolhouse. Or maybe that's 13,470,1 can't remember, but either way that's a lot of steps when it's raining, believe me. Lots of kids live in Raz or Stringer or Montrose. It's too far to walk to see them, and I don't drive, yet.
Tell me about your town or your neighborhood.
There's nothing to tell. Miss Eula Dapplevine was the only colorful thing about Halleluia, and she up and left for Hawaii, deserting her kin (me), not to mention her chickens.
Tell me about your family.
Miss Eula is my grandmother. I had a grandfather. He died. So Miss Eula went to Hawaii. I have a father but I do not know him. He left Halleluia before I was born, but my mama didn't go anywhere. My mama is the first woman in Aurora County to be the county extension agent for home and garden. She is always in someone's garden or kitchen, or at the typewriter, or on the telephone. People call her with questions like "How long do I let my canned beans boil so they aren't poisonous?"
Tell me about yourself.
I am a chicken thief. And a housepainter. And a floor sweeper. I have red hair and freckles the color of new pennies. I am a good writer. I have three chickens: Ivy, Bemmie, and Bess. I am about to have three more because Ivy laid three eggs. I do not eat meat.
What do you do in your spare time?
I am totally tortured sweeping floors at Miss Matties mercantile. I USED to have a fun life, until my grandmother up and left me for some baby.
What are your favorite subjects in school?
I never think about school in the summer. It is bad luck. Ask me in September.
What do you plan to do with your summer?
Do you have any suggestions for a tortured nine-year-old? I will not go to Vacation Bible School over in Bay Springs, or to camp Walkaway. That's just organized torture.
What else would you like to tell me?
Since you are new here, I do not want to scare you. So I will not mention that the (always) star of every year's operetta has catfish gut hair. And guess what? She's in the fourth grade this year! Lucky you.
Free advice: Folks here are nice but nosy. Keep your front room picked up. Always keep a fresh pitcher of sweet iced tea in your refrigerator.
* * *
June 20
Dear Miss Eula the Hard-hearted,
Only six more days to baby chicks!! Bemmie is bossy and argues with Bess. Ivy ignores them and keeps nesting. Bemmie says to Ivy, "you could at least give us a peek!"
This week I have read the "B" words in the dictionary. I have told them stories ... their favorite is "Rubylocks and the Three Chickens." Starting June 25, I am sleeping in the chicken house to make sure I don't miss anything.
For your information, I am still sweeping floors for Miss Mattie. It is still torture.
Here is another picture of me. I am two months old in this picture.
Melba Jane looked so bad today, the dogcatcher took her to tine pound. He said, "I thought she was a Saint Bernard."
Free advice: It is worth a trip to Halleluia to see miracle chickens born.
Love,
your (about to be busy) granddaughter,
Ruby L.
Pee Ess: Guess what? A family is buying Peterson's Egg Ranch. That means kids. I don't know how many yet.
* * *
* * *
June 18
Dear Ruby darlin;
We have traveled to the "Big Island," called Hawaii. I am going to walk across a volcano today! It is inactive, and folks walk across it every day. Imagine!
I made grass skirts for me and Leilani. She looks cute in hers. I look like a grandmother in mine. My favorite hula song is "Lovely Hula Hands." My hands are awfully knobby, but they are lovely when I do the hula.
Here are my first photographs. Just look at us! I bet you hardly recognize your uncle Johnson. He's the tall, handsome one. Do you like my hat? I made it myself, from palm leaves. Here are postcards, too. My favorite is the one of a volcano erupting.
Did you know kings and queens used to rule Hawaii?
How are you? What is going on with Melba Jane? What is happening at the egg ranch? Your mama wrote me that it was for sale. I hope someone with children buys the place.
Love,
your (tropical) grandmother,
Miss Eula
* * *
* * *
June 21
Dear Ruby Lavender,
My name is Ferrell Ishee. I am the new fourth-grade teacher in Halleluia. I read your questionnaire with great interest. I have a niece who is nine years old and visiting from Memphis who would love to meet you. So would my wife and I.
We are making root-beer floats the day after tomorrow at 4 p.m. to celebrate our move to the old egg-ranch property. Please come if you can.
With much anticipation,
Ferrell Ishee
* * *
* * *
June 23
Dear Miss Grass Skirt,
For your information:
I am going to Peterson's Egg Ranch this afternoon to meet the Ishees and have root-beer floats. There's a kid my age! I'll give you a report.
Melba Jane hasn't been able to leave the dog pound, no one will claim her. Too bad.
Old Mr. Peterson moved in with his son, young Mr. Peterson, over in Raleigh. He told Miss Mattie that he hoped you stayed and stayed in Hawaii. Ha! You aren't thinking of doing that, are you?
Chicken update: Ivy stays put on her eggs so much I am afraid she doesn't eat or drink. I ask her if she's hungry and she says, "nothing for me, thank you." I pick her up every day at least once and take her to her food. Then I have to fight Bemmie, who tries to get into Ivy's nest. As soon as Ivy eats, she gets back on her nest. I have watched her turn the eggs. She turns them with her feet many times a day. She will be a good mother. I love the chicks already.
My hand is tired of writing! I have to go have a root-beer float!
Love,
your (expectant) granddaughter,
Ruby L.
Pee Ess: What is it like to walk on a volcano?
* * *
8
June 23
The sun winked off Ruby's bike in the four o'clock light of afternoon. She pedaled onto the egg-ranch property, toward
the big white house with the wraparound porch. Far away she heard the nimble of thunder. She was so hot her clothes stuck to her. She licked her lips. Salty. A rpot-beer float would be perfect today.
The long open-sided laying sheds were empty now. Beyond them was the tin-roofed house. It was surrounded by lemon lilies and a picket fence. Ruby leaned her bike against the fence. She heard music coming from the house, and a shout. "Yeeee-haaaa! Swing your partner!"
Ruby tiptoed up the path to the front screen door and peered in. There in the front room danced a tall, round man with a full beard. In his arms he held a very plain, very heavy woman who was laughing from the bottom of her belly. The big man laughed along with her. Their dancing shook the floor.
"Good garden of peas!" exclaimed Ruby.
"That's Uncle Tater and Aunt Tot."
Ruby whirled. "You scared me half to death!" In front of her stood a girl with enormous blue eyes and peaks of short white hair, like meringue on a lemon icebox pie.
"Sorry!"
"Where's Mr. Ishee?"
"That's him. We call him Uncle Tater. Aunt Tot's real name is Cornelia, but nobody calls her that. You'll get used to them; they're wonderfully nice. They're going to have a baby in October. I'm staying with them for the summer, helping them move in. I've done a study on them. I love your overalls—they go so nicely with your short-sleeve shirt and no shoes. You're Ruby, right?"
Ruby swallowed. "Good garden of peas."
Love, Ruby Lavender Page 4
