A Family for Jason

by Virginia McCullough

  No? Then why did it feel so critical to hear the details. “For twenty years, I’ve had what felt like an open wound that’s never closed up. How about you?”

  She closed her eyes.

  After dropping his guard this way, he had nothing to lose. “What about the talk we never got to have twenty years ago? Ruby, anytime we get even a little close to the personal stuff you rush off.”

  Ruby kicked around leaves and gravel with the toe of her shoe. He’d watched her do that before plenty of times. Was it a case of nerves or was she gathering her thoughts? He couldn’t say. When they were kids, long before they were teenagers and falling love, they’d used their shoes to draw pictures or write their names in the gravel in the schoolyard and in the sand at the lake.

  Finally, she raised her head. “Don’t you dare put all the blame on me just because I left. Besides, why stir up all that pain again? There’s nothing we can do to change what happened.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” he snapped.

  Ruby’s features softened, but she shifted her weight and looked at her car.

  From the expression on her face, all he’d accomplished was making her feel torn between responding to him and taking off to get Emma. No fair. This was on him. He held up his hands and backed up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t want you to keep Emma waiting.” Wanting to lighten the mood or at least sound like a guy on a day like any other, he added, “Besides, I’m supposed to be rolling paint on those office walls right about now.”

  She laughed lightly. “I guess it’s obvious I can’t think about much else except Emma at the moment. She’s given me a title. I’m her ‘life manager.’” Along with the air quotes around her title, a sly smile appeared. “I may even be forced to cook a few meals.”

  “Emma’s my friend, too, remember. I can bring lunches over now and again. Or, pick up a carryout dinner. You can’t say no to that.”

  How’s that for inviting yourself? Nice.

  “Nope. I won’t say no to carryout food. I may send you on jelly-donut runs. I’m sure you’ve discovered Sweet Comforts. Emma can’t go a day without scarfing down at least one of those. Then she complains about the sugar and carbs.”

  “It’s a deal. I’m kind of partial to those sticky donuts myself.” He opened the car door and waved. “Give Emma my best.” With that, he got in and drove away, embarrassed for showing up in Emma’s driveway like an eager teenager hoping for a few minutes with his girl. After he’d dropped off Jason at school, the car had seemed to steer itself toward the river and in search of Emma’s house.

  Ever since Ruby had mentioned her job she’d been in his thoughts. Her amused grin hadn’t changed at all, nor had her thoughtful, startling eyes. Always unusual and gorgeous, her light brown eyes made her mood easy to read. During their first conversation in the park he saw a trace of sadness in Ruby’s eyes that hadn’t been there when they were young.

  As if on autopilot, Mike headed to the bridge, with her words echoing through him. What’s happened to me isn’t any of your concern.

  That should be true, especially because he’d spent years burying questions about Ruby. So successfully, in fact, he’d never searched for her, not even online in recent years. Even before that, he’d let his friendship with Neil and Emma wither away, rather than being reminded of Ruby. When it came to Ruby, he’d worn blinders, particularly when his dad was still alive.

  Mike had stayed behind to go to college close to home to pick up the slack and run the resort while his dad grieved. Eventually, he’d gone to law school, but also close to home, so he could lend a hand with the resort most weekends. Ruby’s name was never spoken, and eventually, Mike perfected his detached act when it came to Ruby. Now, it had taken only one glimpse of her to expose what a fraud he was when it came to her.

  He parked the car on the edge of the farm road, then walked to the bridge and leaned on the railing. The recent rains had raised the level of Bluestone River. The rush of water over the stones sparkled in the morning sun and gave off the flashes of the deep blue that had given the river—and the town—its name. Nothing changed with the river. It still rose and fell with the rain and dry spells, unaware the town desperately needed a shot of fresh energy.

  He stared at a point on the sandy flats downriver, where it was deep enough to swim, but the currents made it dangerous all the time. Posted signs made it clear it was a no-swimming zone. But when he and Neil were about twelve, and their middle names were Swagger and Bravado, they decided those signs were just for show. Or didn’t apply to daredevils like them.

  “Grounded for a month,” his mom later declared with a slap on the kitchen counter.

  Caught red-handed. Or, more like caught dripping wet with no way to fib their way out of it. Other adults had spotted them and alerted their parents. Neil resentfully complained about the tattling. Mike’s mom, with a dry sense of humor, smiled smugly and said, “I hope you learned the real lesson. You won’t get away with much in this little place. Even the river has eyes and ears.”

  His hometown was the kind of place where the adults kept an eye on all the kids. But standing at the bridge all these years later, he smiled at the memory of his mother grounding him and then tossing her hair back as she turned away. That familiar hair-toss gesture always meant she was punishing him because she was obliged to. She’d probably taken a few dips in the river herself at about the same age.

  Mike tipped back his head to feel the sun on his face. He’d crossed into territory every bit as dangerous as the river currents. His mom. Since he’d been back in the house, one memory after another pushed their way to the surface. Along with trying to block out Ruby over the years, he’d run away from images of his mom as a woman with energy and humor and enormous patience. He’d turned over stone after stone of his childhood, especially his high-school years, searching for signs his mom had been unhappy with his dad. Angry, hurt, or dissatisfied with her life. He almost wished he could find something—anything—to explain why she’d been willing to risk everything to sneak off with Timothy Driscoll in this little town where she knew so well secrets were hard to keep. He’d not had an “aha” moment over it, not in all these years.

  He always came back to what Ruby said. His mom was one of the fun parents. Kids liked to hang out at his house and shoot hoops on the basket mounted on the garage, or sprawl out on the wraparound porch. They’d spread out towels and blankets under the tree by the swing. Of all the summer jobs in town, the most coveted was working at the Hidden Lake Resort and having Ellen Abbot for a boss.

  “Speaking of bosses,” Mike said aloud. “I’m the boss now.” He had paint to buy, windows to wash, office furniture to scare up. Up until now, his days in Bluestone River had been taken up with settling in Jason and bringing the house back to life after it had been closed up for over ten years. But now he had a law practice to launch.

  He hurried to his car, hoping that getting into action would quiet the anxiety sending out flutters in his gut as warning signals. Mike had no idea if another law practice could work in Bluestone River. But he had to try.

  * * *

  EMMA GRIMACED AS she gripped the walker and took the first step on a postbreakfast walk. This was the first of three five-minute walks inside the house. It was about sixty steps from the front entrance to the patio doors. The first walk had eaten up the whole five minutes. “Sounds like you told Mike to get lost.”

  “I did not,” Ruby insisted, wincing in empathy as she watched Emma’s careful movements. Ruby shadowed her, staying close enough to catch Emma if she lost her balance or needed a supportive hand. Last night, over cups of hot tomato soup, she’d first told Em about Mike’s surprise visit that morning.

  Emma rolled her eyes. “When you tell someone—in so many words—to mind his own business, that pretty much means you want him to go far away.”

  Ruby rested her hip on t
he arm of the couch. “That’s not the same as getting lost. Besides, we haven’t seen the last of him. He’s going to bring us lunch now and again and do bakery runs. He wants to see you.”

  Emma reached out and captured Ruby’s fingers in hers. “Then why do you have such a guilty look on your face? And sad. You look troubled every time Mike comes up in conversation.”

  Ignoring the question, Ruby pressed Emma’s hand between both of hers. “You’re cold. Why don’t I make a fire this morning?”

  With Peach standing close by, Ruby arranged the kindling and a couple of the smaller logs on the grate. She had filled the wood basket and made sure they had everything they needed for fires as the days grew chillier. “I’m rusty at this,” Ruby said. “It’s been a long time since I had a fireplace. Not since that cottage I rented in the mountains.”

  “I remember,” Emma said. “The rooms were like postage stamps, but the view of the mountains was so great you didn’t care.” She snickered. “Your job-hopping had big advantages for me. I had new places to visit every few years.”

  When flames from the paper and kindling shot up between the logs and the bark caught fire, Ruby sat back on her heels and gave Peach a pat. “There. Done.”

  “You’ve still got it, Rubes,” Emma said, a giggle starting in her throat.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. You. It’s not funny, but it’s like a party being together here in my house after I made so many visits to see you. Even with my back aching, I’m loving this time with you.”

  “Me, too. We’ll take trips again, Em.” Ruby had great fun planning almost every long vacation around a special trip with Emma. A bike trip in the Netherlands was their first European adventure, but their walking tour of olive groves and wineries in Italy was their favorite.

  As if reading her mind, Emma said, “Are you up for a trip sometime soon? How about London?”

  “In a heartbeat. But I should wait until I’m, you know the phrase, gainfully employed.” Not so for Emma, who had luckily inherited a not-so-small fortune before marrying Neil. She could pay for trips and support her favorite causes without a budget or having to save so many dollars a month to pay for a trip. Whereas Ruby’s skimpy, not-for-profit salaries didn’t buy trips without careful planning.

  “Right,” Emma said, “but another walking trip is my goal.”

  “I get it. And these short walks every day are a step toward that goal. Speaking of walking, when Brenda gets here to do the housekeeping I’ll take Peach out for her long walk of the day.”

  “And yours,” Emma said. “I like it that you and Peach are rambling around town. That’s how you ran into Mike, right?”

  Ruby didn’t have to respond one way or another because Brenda arrived with a cheery hello and a bag of groceries in her arms. Ruby quickly leashed Peach and grabbed her jacket and let the dog lead her down the drive, but instead of turning toward the river, she tugged the leash the other way. “Something different today, Peach. We’re headed into town.”

  She took a turn at the next corner and jogged a couple of short blocks to River Street. Mike had been weighing on her mind ever since his visit yesterday. She’d pretended to be nonplussed when she saw him, even detached, as if her stomach hadn’t done flip-flops at the sight of him. Why was she intent on avoiding Mike’s questions about what happened to the job she’d loved so much? Simple answer—pride. It was all about losing face. She’d failed in a big way.

  On a whim, Ruby ducked into the gas station and scanned the candy aisle until she found what she was looking for and paid for it at the counter. Smiling to herself she headed for Mike’s office. She wasn’t sure he’d be there, but if not, she’d leave her little gift by the door and send him a “sorry I missed you” text. Offering an olive branch after being so curt was the least she could do.

  Ruby knocked on Mike’s window. His car was parked nearby and the office lights were on. When he came into her line of vision, his warm smile let her know he was happy to see her. When he opened the door, she handed him the bag from the store. “Enjoy,” she said.

  Mike opened the bag, peeked inside and laughed. “Red licorice. My favorite study food. You remembered, Rubes.”

  The sight of his face all lit up made her cheeks warm. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her she was blushing. “You said something about painting this place, so I figured you’d be here.”

  “Come on back. I’ve got a card table and a couple chairs.” He glanced at the dog. “No stepping in the paint, Miss Peach.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep her close. She’ll be all tuckered out from our walk, anyway.” When they went past Mike’s office, she saw the wall had gone from the ugly blue to a pale gray, almost white. In the back, half of one wall had one coat of paint and drop cloths covered the floor. “Good color, Mike. Better than a darker law-firm gray. It feels good in here.”

  “Thanks for saying that. It confirms that brightening the place was more important than communicating a solid, stuffy image.” He took out the licorice and opened the package. Putting it on the table, he said, “Have some. I remember how to share a bag of licorice with you.” He then patted the back of a wooden folding chair. “Do you recognize the table and chairs? I found the set stashed away in the basement.”

  She remembered them. Mike’s mom brought out the classic black-top card table and chairs when they were having dinners and parties for more than ten or twelve people. Ruby brushed her hand across the smooth top as a sudden bout of bittersweet nostalgia left her almost shaky. Over a table? “There was always room for one more at your house.”

  Even though she was restless, she took a seat. She was as ready as she’d ever be. “I actually came to apologize. I was kind of, well, rude yesterday. I don’t believe you’re idly nosing around in my business.”

  “I’m glad you understand that.” Mike sat on the other chair across the table and looked at her through the same bright blue eyes that had drawn Ruby to him in the first place. “But I don’t know what got into me, thinking I could show up like that and demands answers. That’s not who I am—usually.”

  Maybe it was the honesty in those eyes, but being alone with Mike in that moment transformed into the right time to explain what had gone so awfully wrong.

  “You asked about my job, but you already know I was fired.” She smoothed her hands over her cheeks as she gathered her thoughts.

  Mike opened his mouth as if to speak, but apparently thought better of it. Instead, he offered a slow nod.

  “I think what hurts the most is that it was my dream job. I was so sure...of myself, of the strategy.”

  “Antibullying. Right?”

  Ruby nodded and reached for a licorice string. She bit off the end of it and made quick work of the rest of it. Then she shaded in the background about years of working with crisis centers of various kinds. The details were different, but they all added up to the kind of trauma that was challenging to overcome. “The rewards were huge when we had successes. It was a relief to watch people get past the problems holding them back. Seeing that happen again and again is what kept me in the field.” Hearing the pride in her voice, she quickly pointed out that she didn’t do the work by herself. “I usually had a great team of dedicated people around me.”

  She shook her head. “It’s hard to believe, Mike, but when I first got involved in this work as a volunteer in a crisis center in college, I didn’t connect what I heard from other people to what happened to our families. To us.”

  The words caught in her throat. Mike stared at her, his jaw slack in the silence.

  Finally, Mike smiled sadly. “I probably would have been the same way. I was so wrapped up in taking care of my dad because I thought—assumed—he was the one with the problem.” In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Sounds like what you’ve been doing is truly hard work, Ruby.”

&n
bsp; Ruby bobbed her head while she thought about the roughest parts. “The more important the title I earned, the less I worked directly with the clients—the survivors—and the more I designed the programs and argued for funding. I saw trauma on a more massive scale when I organized emergency services after tornadoes and hurricanes.” She shook her head thinking about the solemn-faced kids hanging on to a parent with one hand and a stuffed animal with the other, not fully understanding their house had been flooded or was flattened. Gone forever.

  “You climbed a ladder, Ruby, just not the corporate one, huh?”

  Ruby smiled nostalgically. “Ah, yes, me and my MBA were going to set the business world on fire. I have a master’s degree, but it’s in public administration.” She shrugged.

  Restless, she bit off more licorice and stood to study the room. “Let me help. I’ll finish telling you what happened.” She picked up a new roller from a pile of supplies on the floor.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Mike insisted.

  “Of course I don’t. But I want to.” She gestured toward the unpainted wall. “Is there anything worse than a half-finished paint job?”

  Mike laughed at her teasing voice and attached the fresh roller to a long handle while Ruby seized a gallon of paint and filled a tray. “Okay, Ruby, you start at the far end. We’ll meet in the middle.”

  “Gotcha. I’ve painted many a funky apartment in my travels. Turns out I’m pretty good at making places more or less livable.” She enjoyed the physical work of it, too. There was something satisfying about rolling paint on walls or polishing up woodwork or dressing up ancient kitchen cabinets. “Unlike the way I’ve made my living, painting a room or a bookcase provides a road to instant gratification.”

  Mike laughed. “I need to think that way when I start redoing my house. Opening it up and letting in some fresh air was the easy part.”