Ruby Lee and Me

by Shannon Hitchcock

  Ruby and me took our pails to the far end of the patch, away from our grandmothers. Ruby moved like a ballet dancer, slim and graceful. “How you doing?” she asked.

  My eyes started to flood, and I wiped away tears. “Not too good.”

  “Umm hmm,” Ruby said. “I can see that. Want to talk about it?”

  I answered no, but if I ever did talk about the accident, it would be to Ruby.

  She stuffed some berries into her mouth and held out her palms for me to see. They were stained a deep purple. “These berries taste like heaven,” she said, “heaven and sunshine.”

  I dropped some berries into my bucket, and then ate a handful too. Ruby sang a spiritual while we filled our pails nearly full. She was a soloist at the Open Arms Baptist Church and made up lots of songs.

  Pick me up, Lord

  Trouble’s too hard to bear

  Pick me up, Lord

  Show me you care.

  I wished I could spend all day in the berry patch listening to Ruby, but Granny and Miss Irene’s squabbling interrupted.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll do it for you,” Miss Irene said. She picked up her own pail of berries and Granny’s too.

  “You don’t need to carry both buckets,” Granny said.

  Miss Irene insisted. “No trouble. No trouble at all.”

  Ruby scowled. It embarrassed her when Miss Irene tried too hard around white people. If you ask me, that’s why Ruby was a tad bossy. She didn’t want to be like Miss Irene.

  Back in the kitchen, Granny sat down and propped her right leg on a footstool. The veins bulged out like a knotted rope underneath her skin. “My leg is bothering me again,” she said. “I’m gonna sit right here and let you make the cobbler.”

  Following Granny’s directions, I scooped two cups of berries into the bowl. “Pour right much sugar over them,” Granny said. “That makes them nice and sweet.”

  “How much is right much?”

  “Oh, ’bout half a cup.”

  Granny rubbed her leg. “I got these varicose veins when I was pregnant with your daddy.”

  Granny’s skin looked thin and shiny, like her veins could bust right through the skin. “That was a long time ago. Why didn’t they get well?”

  “I don’t know,” Granny said. “Just never did. I guess I could show ’em to the doctor, but I’m like your grandpa with his cataracts. I don’t like doctors working on me.”

  I looked up from stirring the melted butter. “What about the doctors working on Robin?”

  “That’s a whole different story,” Granny said. “Robin’s injuries are life-threatening.”

  Life-threatening. Those words sucked the air out of the kitchen. Neither Granny nor me moved a muscle. Finally, I whispered, “I’m afraid she’ll die.”

  Granny took off her glasses and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “Sarah, turn off the stove. We need to talk.”

  I knelt on the floor beside Granny’s stool, and she stroked my hair. “We’re all scared. Scared plumb to death, but we’ve gotta take it one day at a time. Keeping busy will help us through the rough patches.” Granny paused. “Do you want to talk about the day of the accident?”

  I shook my head.

  “I won’t try and make you,” Granny said, “but I think you’d feel better if you’d talk about it. Remember when you got that splinter in your backside sliding down the banister?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Almost two years ago, when I was ten.”

  Granny nodded. “You wouldn’t let me get the splinter out and it festered. That sore got worse and worse, until I dug the splinter out with a needle. The bad feelings inside of you are a lot like that splinter.”

  I knew my granny was like King Solomon in the Bible, full of wisdom, but I couldn’t tell her what happened. I wanted to, but the truth stuck to my throat like lumpy mashed potatoes.

  The phone rang while I was washing dishes. News … what if it’s bad news? A soapy mixing bowl slipped from my hands. It shattered against the porcelain sink and slivers of glass flew. I ran straight through them. “Hello,” I panted.

  Dad’s voice answered me. “Hey, Sarah, are you hanging in there? Listening to your grandparents?”

  My heartbeat slowed to its normal thud. Dad wouldn’t be making small talk if Robin had gotten worse. “How is she?”

  Dad sighed, and his breath came out in a loud whoosh. “About the same. She’s still unconscious. I just called to check on you.”

  I twisted the phone cord around my finger. “I want to see her.” Dad didn’t answer, and for just a minute I wondered if we had been disconnected. “Dad? Are you there?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he finally said. “Let’s wait until she wakes up.”

  “But, Dad …”

  “Sarah, I need to go. The doctor just walked in to examine Robin. Tell your grandparents there’s been no change. I love you.” And before I had the chance to say another word, he hung up.

  Granny stood in the doorway between the kitchen and den, listening. “Robin’s all bruised and banged up. Your daddy’s afraid the way she looks will upset you.”

  “Not seeing her upsets me more.”

  “I know it does. Be patient, and I’ll have a talk with your daddy about it.” Granny motioned toward the bathroom. “Child, we need to get your feet bandaged up. You ran right through broken glass.”

  I didn’t even feel it.

  I woke up long before the rooster crowed. I had dreamed about Robin again, but in this dream I had been reading Robin’s favorite book to her, about Billy and his horse, Blaze. I knew the dream was a sign, and that I was supposed to read the book to her.

  I tiptoed across the linoleum floor, careful not to wake up my grandparents. I was already kneading the biscuit dough when Granny hobbled into the kitchen. “You’re up early,” she said.

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I’m making biscuits.”

  “It’s a treat when somebody else does the cooking,” Granny said. She tied on her apron, walked over, and peered into the refrigerator. “What about some bacon and eggs to go with those biscuits?”

  I still didn’t have much appetite, but I said yes. I wanted to be so agreeable that Granny and Grandpa would take me to the library, and then to the hospital. I waited until Grandpa was on his second cup of coffee to ask. “Would you give me a ride to the library this morning? I need to check out some books.”

  Grandpa reached for another biscuit. “I guess I could do that. Drop you off, and then do some banking. Maybe even swap a few lies down at the general store.”

  I took a deep breath. “Do you believe in signs?”

  “What kind of signs?” Granny asked.

  I told them about my dream. About how I needed to see Robin and read the Billy and Blaze books to her.

  Granny nodded. “Lots of people had dreams in the Bible.” She glanced up at the clock above the stove. “The library doesn’t open until ten. That gives us time to wash the dishes and do up the chores.” She carried the plates over to the sink. “Well, George, get a move on. Sarah’s on a mission.”

  We left the farm behind with Grandpa driving, Granny riding next to the window, and me squished in the middle. Rowdy was in the back, like always. Grandpa’s truck would only go about thirty-five miles per hour, so it would be a slow trip.

  “In town, all the roads have street signs,” I said. “No wonder people get lost out here.”

  Grandpa adjusted the rearview mirror. “I’ve been meaning to have a sign painted and put it out by the main road. That way folks from town won’t miss the turnoff. Guess the farm would need a name though.”

  “Just call it Willis Family Farm,” Granny said. “No need to get uppity about it.”

  Though I’d only had a couple of bites of breakfast, my stomach churned. I pressed both hands against it.

  Granny eyed my middle. “Do you have an upset stomach?”

  “Just a little bit.”

  Granny pulled off her glasses and wiped the lenses with
her housedress. “Sarah, you need to be prepared for what you’re gonna see. Robin is all bandaged up, she has an IV in her hand, a tube for oxygen in her nose, and her leg is hanging in traction. Your parents didn’t want you to see her like this, but I told them you’re a big girl. That you’ll be able to handle it.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see this Robin. I wanted to see the sister I had before the accident, but one thing I knew for sure: I had to read to Robin, hold her hand, and beg her to please, please wake up.

  Grandpa started singing “Will the Circle Be Unbroken.” Dad, Mama, Robin, and me made a perfect family circle. I worried we’d be broken apart.

  We pulled into the library just as it was opening. I fished my library card out of my pocket. It was quiet inside and smelled musty, like paper, ink, and old books. I was the first customer.

  Mrs. Brown whispered from behind the front desk, “Good morning, Sarah.”

  “Good morning,” I whispered back. I loved Mrs. Brown because she enjoyed answering my questions, but this morning I didn’t have time to talk. I knew exactly which books I needed.

  I squatted down among the picture books and grabbed all of the Billy and Blaze series by C. W. Anderson. These books were Robin’s favorites, and I had read them to her so many times, I almost knew them by heart.

  Next I went to the 811 section for poetry. I pulled Sonnets from the Portuguese, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Cathy had read one of the poems to me when she was taking senior English. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” I had always loved my sister, but before the accident, I didn’t know how much.

  Outside Robin’s hospital door, I traced one of the book covers with my finger. My heart was beating so loud that I was surprised no one else could hear it.

  Granny gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Grandpa and me will be waiting for you right here, right outside this door, but take your time. Say what you need to say to your sister.”

  When I pushed open the door, Mama stood up and met me in the middle of the room. I noticed lots of things at once. Mama needed to comb her hair, she didn’t have on any makeup, and her clothes were rumpled. Mama opened her arms and gave me a big hug. Both of us were trembling.

  Mama stepped away, and I saw Robin for the first time since the accident. Just as Granny had warned me … she, my sister, my baby sister had a tube in her nose, an IV in her hand, her chest and head were bandaged, and her poor leg was hanging in a sling. I clutched the library books to my chest and sobbed.

  “Sssh,” Mama said. “We don’t know how much Robin can hear or understand while she’s unconscious. If you cry, it might scare her.”

  I wiped my face with a Kleenex from Robin’s bedside table. I stared at her a long time before I pulled a chair close to the bed and started to read. “Billy was a little boy who loved horses more than anything else in the world.” My voice shook at first, but the longer I read, the stronger it got. Robin didn’t move or open her eyes, but I knew she could hear me. Don’t ask me how I knew. I just did.

  When I finished the last book, I put a kiss as soft as rose petals on Robin’s cheek. I thought of all the many ways I loved her. Like Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I should write them down. I loved reading to Robin, loved her brown curly hair, how cute she looked in her cowboy hat, how kind she was to animals, even the way she stomped her foot when she was having a temper tantrum. “I love you to the end of the universe and back,” I said. “Please wake up soon. Everybody is miserable.” I slid my index finger underneath Robin’s hand, and for just a second, her fingers moved.

  “Did you see that? Her fingers moved!”

  Mama sighed. “That’s probably wishful thinking on your part. She’s been unresponsive since we got here.”

  I stubbornly shook my head. “She touched me. I know she did.”

  Mama pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her face. “I’d give anything if you’re right, but I’m afraid to get my hopes up.”

  “It wasn’t just wishful thinking. It really happened.”

  A smile flickered across Mama’s face. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re here. Dad and I were trying to protect you, but I think Robin needs you right now.”

  “I need her too.” I handed the Billy and Blaze books to Mama. “Keep reading these to her. Read them over and over.”

  Mama promised.

  Seeing Robin left me as wrung out as an old dishrag. For the first time since the accident, I slept without dreaming. When I finally got up, I had a late Sunday breakfast—warm biscuits and blackberry jam.

  Granny had pressed my favorite lavender skirt for church and hung it on the door between the kitchen and den. I got dressed and caught my long, blond hair into a ponytail. I stared at myself in the mirror, wishing I didn’t have quite so many freckles.

  When I was ready, I knocked on Granny’s bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

  Granny didn’t answer. Instead there was a strange noise. “Uuummm, uuummm. Uuummm, uuugggh.”

  I pushed the door open, worried Granny was having a stroke or a heart attack. There she was—tugging on her girdle for all she was worth.

  I looked down at the floor to keep from giggling. Robin should be here to see it too. She thought underwear and potty jokes were the funniest things in the world.

  After Granny got the torturous girdle around her middle, she flopped down in a chair. “I’m plumb worn-out, and I still have to get my stockings on.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed while Granny put a stocking on each leg and fastened them to her garters. Then Granny slipped into a navy polyester dress. “How about zipping me up?” she asked. To finish off her ensemble, Granny pinned a pearl brooch on her right shoulder. “I’m ready.” She beamed.

  We dodged the chicken poop in the yard and climbed into Grandpa’s old red truck. Rowdy had his usual spot in the back.

  As we chugged down the dirt road, Grandpa said, “I think Rowdy likes church music. When they keep the windows open, he can hear the whole service.”

  Granny laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. That dog just likes to ride. He ain’t one bit picky about the destination.”

  Almost everybody went to church in Shady Creek. The parking lot was nearly full. To keep Rowdy comfortable, Grandpa parked in a shady spot underneath a row of maple trees. Granny waved at Hiram Fletcher, their closest neighbor, and I waved at my friend Betsy Carter.

  I shuffled behind Granny and Grandpa to the front door. Most of these folks looked out of place to me. I was used to seeing the farmers in overalls instead of stiff white shirts and shiny shoes. Some of the women even wore hats. Mrs. Fletcher’s looked like a bird’s nest.

  My favorite thing about church was the stained-glass windows. They reminded me of Joseph’s coat of many colors. The organist played softly, and everyone spoke in hushed tones.

  Mrs. Carter hugged Granny. “How’s your grandbaby doing?” she asked.

  “She’s still unconscious,” Granny said. “Keep praying.”

  Mrs. Fletcher bent down and hugged me. “You poor thing,” she said. “You poor, poor thing. We’re all praying for you.”

  I didn’t like for anybody to hug me except for family, but today I didn’t mind.

  Granny and Grandpa led the way to our seats. Betsy Carter left her family and moved to sit beside me. I had met her last year at Vacation Bible School. At first I couldn’t believe somebody so beautiful wanted to be my friend, but we had been the only two girls in a roomful of boys.

  I didn’t pay much attention during announcements, but then my ears perked up. “Today is a special Sunday,” the preacher said. “For the past few weeks we’ve been focused on our boys serving in Vietnam, but today we’ve got trouble a little closer to home. Most of you already know that Robin Willis was injured in an automobile accident. For anybody that’s wondering, she’s George and Maybelle’s granddaughter.”

  And my sister, I silently added.

  Reverend Reece continued, “We don’t understand why bad things happen, b
ut the good Lord promises to never leave us or forsake us.”

  “Amen,” Granny said.

  Reverend Reece bobbed his head in her direction. “Our service will be a little different today. I’m going to ask Blanche to come on up and play ‘Just as I Am’ on the organ. I’d like for everybody to gather and pray at the altar.”

  I followed Granny and Grandpa to the front of the church. We knelt at the altar, and the whole congregation crowded around us.

  Mr. Fletcher was the first one to pray. “Please take care of her, Lord.”

  A man with a crew cut said, “I went to school with Charlie Willis. He’s a fine fellow, and I hate to see his family suffering.”

  I felt a jolt of electricity running along our clasped hands. As I knelt between Granny and Grandpa, I could almost believe in miracles. I wished that I could actually hear God’s voice, or see a sign, like Moses and the burning bush. That would make faith a lot easier to come by.

  At the end of the hour, Reverend Reece closed with a prayer. “Lord, your will be done. You know what we’re asking. But we realize there are three possible answers to a prayer: yes, no, or wait.”

  There was only one answer that I wanted. I was sick of waiting, and I couldn’t stand it if the answer was no. I wanted to yell at Reverend Reece to only pray for yes, but a hickory switch would be waiting on me if I caused a scene. My dad believed in “spare the rod and spoil the child.”

  Betsy opened the door to Grandpa’s truck. “I thought you’d be out here. I promised your granny that I’d get you something to eat. There’s a potluck dinner in the fellowship hall.”

  “Oh. I was hoping we were going home.”

  “That would be kinda rude,” Betsy said. “The potluck dinner is for your family.”