“Me?”
“I’ve been pretty mixed up ever since I saw…well, you praying over Hannah. I didn’t handle it well, and I guess I was ashamed of myself. I hated the thought that I might run into you and have to face what I done.” He held my gaze a while, as if searching for something. “I still don’t quite know what to make of you, but I want you to know how sorry I am for leaving you the way I did.”
My heart had just about stopped beating altogether. I scolded it and set my mind right again. Seemed like I had to do that a lot when I was around Matthew. Had I learned nothing from that painful goodbye? I had to find a way to forgiveness that didn’t land me right back in the briars of loving him.
“I know you’re sorry, and that you want to make up for it. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
He dropped his gaze to the floor. “But you won’t forgive me.”
“You said it yourself. I can’t lie. I thought I’d forgiven you a long time ago. But seeing you again made me realize that I hadn’t.” I paused, feeling terrible for having to tell him the truth. “I want to. Just give me a little time, all right?”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Of course. I understand.” He looked around like he wasn’t sure what else to say. “How are you doing this morning? You get any sleep last night?”
I shrugged, not wanting to worry him any more than necessary. “Enough.”
“You’re still planning on telling that lawyer of yours that you’re pleading not guilty, right?”
“Of course,” I said. I walked over to my cot and slid Daddy’s Bible under the pillow. Then I turned back around and forced a smile. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll talk to Mr. Oliver today when he comes by.”
“I don’t know how you do it. How can you stay so calm about all this?”
I nearly laughed as I plopped down onto the cot. “Truth is, I don’t feel calm. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since all this happened. In fact, I’ve been struggling with my own faith.” I knew I shouldn’t say anything, shouldn’t open myself up to Matthew. But he was the only one who knew everything about me. I couldn’t seem to help myself. “I keep praying for God’s help, to feel Him with me. But it seems like I’m just talking to the walls. He doesn’t answer.”
Matthew pulled the chair over from against the wall and sat down, leaning toward me like he was ready to study me. “Does God talk to you? I mean, out loud or something?”
“It’s more like a quiet thought in my mind. Something I know I didn’t think myself. And there’s a calm peace that comes with it. Like a gentle breeze.”
“Must be nice to hear from Him like that. To know exactly what He wants from you. He’d have to write it in the sky with the clouds for me to get it. Might not get it even then.”
“He speaks to you too. I’m sure of it. In a way that’s just meant for you. You just have to learn how to listen.”
He grinned. “I reckon I’m not a good listener then.”
“I wish He’d speak to me now,” I blurted, barely able to keep my voice even. “I ache for Him to give me some kind of direction. It hurts almost as bad as when Daddy died.” My legs felt jittery, so I stood and began pacing the cell.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said. “You just stay the course, and keep explaining what happened. The truth is going to come out, and everything will be just fine.”
That’s what I was afraid of. Except when the truth came out, things would never be fine again. I was going to lose everything. My gift, my family, and most certainly my freedom. I wondered for a moment if it wouldn’t be better to just tell Matthew everything. If God wasn’t going to speak to me, maybe Matthew could help me figure out what to do.
But just as I was about to open my mouth, the door to the lobby opened, and the sheriff walked through. I clamped my mouth shut. A man in handcuffs trailed behind the sheriff, with Deputy John Frost right behind.
Sheriff Peterson walked the man in handcuffs into the cell next to mine. He looked like he’d been dragged out of a pond and all the way to the jail. His clothes were tattered and filthy, and after only a few steps into the room, his stench permeated the whole place. Sheriff Peterson shoved the man into the cell next to mine. The man looked over at me with dark, dead eyes. He started to look away, but then he looked at me more closely, like he was figuring out who I was.
My skin crawled, and I had to look away. I made eye contact with John, and he gave me a slight nod. “Hidey, Ruby,” he said.
I smiled back. “Hi there, John. You been doing all right?”
“Sure have.”
Sheriff Peterson looked between John and me. “I take it you two know each other?”
John motioned toward Matthew, who waved back at him. “We was all in school together over in Hanceville a few years back.”
“Well, isn’t that nice,” the sheriff said. John’s smiled faded, and he stiffened. Then Sheriff Peterson looked over at me. “I got to take care of business on the other side of the county. Deputy Frost here’ll be keeping an eye on things for the rest of the day. Holler if you need anything.”
They turned for the door, but just then Matthew jumped up from his chair and started toward them. “Is that who I think it is? That’s Emmitt Hyde, ain’t it? You can’t put him next to Ruby.”
Sheriff Peterson turned to him with a grimace. “Now, just what do you think he’s gonna do? Squeeze through the bars or something? You need to go on home and get out of my business, son.”
“Matthew,” I said, “what are you doing?”
He stepped back to the door of my cell and pointed at the man again. “Don’t you know who that is?” I stared at him in confusion, unable to answer. “That’s Emmitt Hyde,” he continued. “He’s been all over the papers for years now. He’s been traipsing all over the surrounding counties stealing what little the farmers have around here.”
I looked over at the man again. He’d sat down on his cot and was staring at Matthew and me like he’d like to come over and choke us. I turned back to Matthew and saw the concern growing in his eyes. “It’ll be all right. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“He’s bad news, Ruby. He even attacked a couple of farmers over in Morgan county when they caught him stealing. Put both of ’em in the hospital.”
My legs felt a little wobbly beneath me, but I was determined not to show an ounce of fear to anyone, least of all Matthew. But when he leaned down and looked me directly in the eyes, my resolve weakened for a second.
“Please Ruby, just let me post your bond. Let’s get you out of here and figure out how to face this together. Nothing good’s gonna come from you staying in here.”
I did waiver, just for a brief moment. But I knew I couldn’t put my heart in his hands again. So I shored up my resolve. “I’ll be fine.”
He slammed his hands against the bars before turning away from me. “It’s the same old thing with you as always! ‘I’m fine,’ you say. Well, look at you.” He stepped back over to the bars. “You ain’t fine. When are you gonna get that through your thick head?”
“I reckon we both have thick heads then,” I said, my blood heating up. “’Cause you sure love acting like I need saving all the time. I don’t need you to rescue me!”
“That’s great! ’Cause I ain’t doing it. You want to handle this on your own? Be my guest.”
With that, he strode straight past the sheriff and out the door. I watched him go, regret washing over me. My eyes welled up for just a second, but I pushed away the ache in my chest, knowing it was best for both of us that he go.
Sheriff Peterson raised his eyebrow at me. “You need anything, Miss Ruby?”
I shook my head and he closed the door. I stole a quick glance at Mr. Hyde. He was smiling like a cat about to pounce on a mouse.
Mr. Hyde stayed quiet most of the day. I figured it had something to do with finally getting something to eat that almost resembled a meal. He scarfed down his stew and bread like a dog. Then I noticed him looking eagerly at m
e as I ate mine. He didn’t ask for it, though. I expected him to, but he didn’t. He just stretched out on his cot and closed his eyes. I thought he might have fallen asleep, but his breathing wasn’t quite right for a man who was sleeping. It was too shallow.
Shortly after supper, John came to let me out for my evening washing and to relieve myself. There wasn’t a washtub big enough for a bath, but there was a small bowl in a little bathroom that was filled with water for me each night. I cherished that washing more than anyone could know. It was one of the few things that kept me feeling human.
After removing my dress, I leaned over the tub and splashed some of the water over my face, letting the grime of the day trickle away. I scrubbed my face clean and then as much of my body as I could manage in the tiny space. Then I put my ragged dress back on. I hoped Mother would bring me a clean one the next day. Between the makeshift baths and not having any place to take care of myself, I knew I looked terrible. I loosened my hair from its braid and pulled a handful around in front of me. It felt like straw in my hands. It shouldn’t matter, but I hated looking so poor with Matthew coming around every day. No wonder he felt so sorry for me.
I resigned myself to doing what I could, ran my fingers through my hair several times, pinned it back up, and then let myself out. John escorted me back to my cell. I could feel Mr. Hyde’s eyes on me the whole time. It made my skin feel like there were a thousand tiny chiggers crawling all over me. I walked over to my cot and sat as far away from his cell as I could.
“Come on, Emmitt,” John said. “I reckon it’s your turn now.”
They disappeared for a while, so I closed my eyes and concentrated on my prayers. Seemed like only a few minutes had passed when I heard them coming back. Mr. Hyde came through the cell door and stopped right in the middle of his cell. He looked over at me, and I could’ve sworn he looked even more menacing with his black hair slicked back. His eyes bulged out, and his jaw jutted forward. If he’d washed himself, it sure didn’t make a lick of difference. He still smelled to high heaven and back.
John closed his cell door and left us there to ruminate in the stench. Mr. Hyde shuffled over to the bars separating our cells and leaned onto them, his hands dangling into my cell. The black grime surrounding his nails made me wonder what kind of hardship they’d seen. I couldn’t help but have some compassion for him. He didn’t look much different than the poor souls I’d once served at the soup kitchen, except he had this awful darkness that just seemed to sit on him.
When I was younger, I figured out I could see this sort of light around people. Not like a bright light that shone all around them; not like they were glowing or anything. But if I looked at people with my heart, if I saw the brokenness that weighed them down, and God showed me His love for them, then I’d start to see them in shades of light. Some people, like Mary, were as bright as the sun, warming me from the inside out every time they were near.
But others, like Chester, were as dark as storm clouds, and I did everything I could to keep my distance from them. That was what I saw when I looked at Mr. Hyde through the cell bars. He was dark, so dark I could hardly stand to look at him. He sneered down at me, and I tucked my knees up to my chest.
“What’s it like being with a Negro?” he asked, his voice dry and rough.
“Wh—Excuse me?” I stuttered.
“Well, you know, I just thought you might be able to tell me the difference. I mean, I imagine it’s almost like being with an animal or something.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Why, sure you do. I’m pretty certain I read about it in the newspaper yesterday. You and your Negro boyfriend killed that white man when he caught you—”
“Now you listen here!” I pushed myself up from my cot, my anger overcoming my fear of him as I marched right up to where he stood and shoved a finger in his face. “I may be a woman, but I am not scared of you! Now you best get your filthy mind and body on back to your cot! I have never in my life—”
“Oh, don’t get so bent out of shape!” His eyebrows shot up and to my surprise, he stepped away from the bars. “I didn’t mean no harm or nothing.”
“Don’t you have an ounce of dignity? Don’t you have one iota of self-respect?”
His face went blank, and I imagined he was trying to figure out what an iota was. But then he furrowed his brow and came right back at me. “Don’t go throwing your big words around at me, young ’un. I done raised one smart-mouth child of my own, and I ain’t gonna take it from you. I’ll turn you over my lap quicker than you can say jack rabbit!”
We stared each other down, all the while my heart thumping in my chest like a racehorse’s hooves. What was I thinking? Getting this man riled up at me was about the dumbest thing I’d ever done. But something seemed to change in him, and he lost the sneer he’d had earlier. He shook his head and went back over to his cot, sitting down so hard I thought it was going to break.
I eased back over to my cot and curled up under the blanket. Maybe something I’d said or done had reminded him of his own children. Maybe he had just a tiny glimmer of light inside of him, buried under all that anger and disappointment. I closed my eyes and tried not to think of that sneer. Instead, I prayed for Mr. Hyde, that God would go into his heart and find that tiny ember, and he’d light Mr. Hyde on fire with his compassion. But if he couldn’t change Mr. Hyde’s heart, I prayed he’d protect me from his wrath.
Mr. Hyde didn’t say anything else for a while. I sat on my bed and scooted up against the wall, opening Daddy’s Bible on my lap to the Book of John. It was my favorite book, the one I turned to for comfort. Then I started reading out loud, ’cause that made it even more real to me. As I reached the fourth chapter, I was beginning to feel the comfort I’d been seeking, and I’d completely forgotten where I was, and what my troubles were. I was with Jesus as he sat by the well in Samaria.
“There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water: Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink. (For his disciples were gone away unto the city to buy meat.) Then saith the woman of Samaria unto him, How is it that thou being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? for the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans. Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.
“The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: from whence then hast thou that living water? Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle?
“Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”
Resting my voice, I laid my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. Lord, please speak your words of life to me now. Don’t leave me here all alone.
“You’re wasting your time.”
I looked over at Mr. Hyde sprawled across his bed. He hadn’t moved in hours. I’d figured he was asleep. “I apologize if I woke you, Mr. Hyde.”
He slid his arm away from his face and sat up on his bed. His dark eyes bore into mine. “Why you waste all your time praying and reading that malarkey? Don’t you know God’s abandoned you?”
“He hasn’t abandoned me. And He hasn’t abandoned you either.”
He pushed out a half laugh, half cough. “He’s definitely abandoned me. Long time ago. Not that I care. I don’t need Him anyhow.” He pointed at his chest. “I take care of myself. I don’t need God doing nothing for me.” He shook his head. “Living water. Why that’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”
I wondered what had happened to make him so bitter and angry. And despite our earlier confrontation, my heart softened for him. “I have that living water in me,” I said. “You can have it
too. You don’t have to keep living like you are. There’s still hope.”
He waved me off with his hand and leaned back against his wall. “God done took everything I had. What is there left to hope for?”
“You’re still alive, aren’t you? You haven’t lost everything yet. There’s still time to get to know Him.”
He closed his eyes, and I figured he was done talking to me. I was about to go back to reading when he started talking real low. “My Caroline would be about fifteen now, I reckon. She died about five years ago, and she was just ten. So yeah. About fifteen.”
“What happened to her?”
“Scarlet fever. Got her and her momma both. Little Caroline died first, on Sunday. My Rachel followed her two days later. Said she couldn’t stand the thought of her baby being all alone without her.” He gave a chuckle that wasn’t much more than a sob. “I tried to catch it too, just so I wouldn’t be left here all alone. But I reckon God didn’t want me around, and I can’t say I blame him. So I been stuck here. Doing what I can to get by.”
I hesitated, wondering if I’d just draw more of his ire if I spoke. But then I stood and walked over to the bars separating our cells. “I lost my little brother to the Spanish flu when he was three. One of the worst times of my life. My parents’ too. My daddy nearly went mad with grief.”
Mr. Hyde picked at his blanket like he wasn’t listening, but I kept on going. “Then a few years ago, my daddy died from diabetes. I prayed like everything for God to heal him, and when he died, I thought it was because I didn’t have enough faith. But I learned that death is part of life. Losing people is part of loving them. You can’t have one without the other.”
Mr. Hyde sniffed and finally looked up at me. “That’s all well and good for you. But I ain’t got nothing left. You still got folks who love you. Like that boy in here fussing over you. Bet your momma still cares for you too. Don’t nobody care if I live or die.”
Breaking Matthew Page 10
