by Chris Fabry
Upon closer examination she realized the car was not the girl’s from Beulah Mountain, but her daughter’s. And there was Frances, with her nut-brown hair shaking as she talked. It had been recently cut to her shoulders. She had her father’s nose and a long face that had bothered her as a teenager. How that girl had worried about her looks and her grades and just about everything.
There was someone else with Frances. Maybe she’d heard about the sheriff. Maybe someone from the FoodFair had alerted Frances about the scene in the parking lot. Frances worried too much. She always had. She saw the glass half-empty and suspected the water in the bottom was contaminated.
Ruby rubbed her hands together. Had she paid her property taxes? Maybe somebody from the county was with Frances, and she was right now pleading with them for leniency.
The man leaned forward and Ruby saw the face of her son. Jerry was lean and tall with dark hair but no worry gene. In fact, she wished he had inherited a little worry because it would have kept him from some of the building projects he’d gotten into that had failed.
If Frances and Jerry were talking, the situation had to be bad. They never talked, at least about anything of import. Had somebody died? Ruby didn’t have any living relatives. And there were no close friends. Her closest friend—her husband, Leslie—had died ten years earlier. The best friend she’d had died seventy years ago at Beulah Mountain.
What in the world could they be talking about? And why didn’t they come inside? She wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the doorknob, then thought better of it. She’d let them make the first move. She’d go on about her business and keep singing.
Maybe they were just visiting. Maybe Frances was moving to Kentucky. Perhaps it was about Julia, Ruby’s granddaughter.
Ruby was singing “Midnight Cry” when the two of them walked through the front door and into the kitchen. Immediately her son frowned and his tone was crisp.
“Mama, I thought we told you to lock this door. Anybody could walk in and conk you on the head.”
“I unlocked it when I saw you two sitting out there jawing. And there’s nobody around here who wants to conk me on the head.”
Jerry glanced at Frances but kept quiet.
“If you’re going to come in here and tell me everything I need to do, I might turn things around and tell you a thing or two, Jerry.”
He stared at her, slack-jawed.
“Hi, Mama,” Frances said gently, giving her mother a hug.
“Hi, honey,” Ruby said, staring daggers at her son until he leaned in and patted her on the back.
“What are you baking?” he said. “Smells good.”
Ruby didn’t answer, just waved her hand at the table behind her and the cakes that stood as testament to her culinary powers. Ruby turned down the radio, which galled her—she wanted to listen to the music. Her children made small talk about the state of the yard and whether the back steps needed a ramp.
“Now you two didn’t come all the way over here to talk about the yard. Frances, why didn’t you call and tell me you were coming?”
“Are you upset to see me?” Frances said.
“Tell me why you’re here and I’ll answer.”
“You’re right, Mama. Jerry and I wanted to have a talk.”
“Well, you’ve already had one in the driveway.”
“We have something we want to discuss with you,” Jerry said.
“Why didn’t you call?” Ruby said. “Does this have anything to do with the sheriff?”
Her kids looked at each other like she had spoken to them in Mandarin.
“Should we ask about the sheriff?” Frances said. “What happened? And where are you going?”
“I’m locking the door, like you said.” Ruby put the chain on and sat in the large chair facing the couch in the living room. She didn’t want to sit at the table and feel flanked. Jerry and Frances followed and sat on the couch together.
“All right. Let her rip. What do you want to talk about?”
Frances put her hands together and sat forward. “Mama, we’re concerned.”
“About what?”
“Your driving.”
Ruby stared at her.
“We don’t think you should take the car out anymore,” Jerry said.
Ruby measured her words. “You came here to criticize my driving?”
“Mr. Clawson told us you took out his mailbox last week,” Jerry said. “There’s a dent in your fender.”
Ruby shook her head. “First of all, Clive’s mailbox was never set right. When it rains, the ground softens and now it’s leaning further than the Tower of Pisa. I brushed against it slightly and because the termites have been at it, the post fell over. I’ll pay for a new one if he wants, but I’m not . . .” She paused, then her voice rose with passion. “Are you two serious? You came here because of a mailbox?”
“We came here because next time it’s not going to be a mailbox, Mama,” Frances said.
“Yeah,” Jerry said. “Next time you’re going to get distracted and hit a kid on a bike. You want that?”
Ruby couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’m a better driver than either of you. How many tickets for speeding have you two gotten in the last year?”
“That’s not the point, Mama, and you know it,” Frances said.
“It is the point. I’m careful. I’m in control. And I don’t need you two looking over my shoulder every time I want to go to town.”
Frances fiddled with her hair. “We’ve talked with a deacon at your church and he said they can arrange rides.”
“I don’t want somebody wasting their time taking me to the store when I can drive myself. What sense does that make?”
“Let’s talk about where you need to go, Mama, so we can get a strategy together for—”
“I don’t need a strategy. I need you to leave me alone. I have a car and my faculties. When I need your help, you’ll hear about it.”
“You go to the store and to church,” Jerry said. “It’s not going to be a bother. They want to help. Especially if it’ll keep the neighbor kids alive.”
“There are trucks that go up and down the road, Mama. You hit one of those like you did the mailbox and it’s all over.”
Ruby struggled to stand, her shoulders bent, her face on fire. When she was in full control of her balance, she pointed a bony finger. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to this. I’ve got work to do. And when I want to go to Eula’s to get my hair done, I’ll drive. If I want to mail something or buy stamps, I’ll go to the post office. And maybe stop at Dairy Queen. And FoodFair, to boot.”
“Who in the world do you bake for?” Jerry said. “Nobody needs all those cakes.”
“I give them to people who appreciate them. I gave a slab of a coconut cake to the deputy who stopped by . . . when was it? Yesterday? I think it was yesterday. And he thanked me for it.”
“Why did the deputy stop, Mama?” Frances said.
She regretted mentioning it. “That’s none of your business.”
“It is our business because we care about you. We want you to be safe. And for others—”
“I am safe,” Ruby howled. “I don’t talk on the phone to anybody anymore whose number I don’t recognize. I keep the door locked. I don’t let strangers in. Though I probably should have locked the door on you two. I’m careful on the road. I only go out when there’s no traffic.”
Jerry rolled his eyes and Frances put a hand on his shoulder.
“You two are worrywarts. Frances, this sounds like your idea.”
“It was both of us, Mama,” Jerry said.
“You’re worried about nothing. We’ve had this conversation. I’m not having it again.”
Ruby walked to the kitchen and Frances followed. “Mama, why won’t you listen to reason? You don’t want to see anybody get hurt, but that’s going to happen. It’s not a question of if but when. You’re going to hit somebody’s car or someone’s child that you don’t see.
”
“Nothing bad is going to happen.”
“That’s what you said about the front steps until you fell and snapped your wrist,” Jerry said from the living room. “You’re lucky it wasn’t your hip.”
Frances ignored her brother. “You could move closer to me. There’s a little house for sale just down from me—it’s on a flat patch of ground. It has all the space you’d need and I would feel so much better. There’s a flower garden and woods behind it where you can throw out your scraps and feed the animals.”
“I saw the house online,” Jerry said, stepping into the kitchen.
“I sent Jerry a link,” Frances said. “I do taxes for a Realtor and she brought it up to me.”
“Of course I’ve been wanting to build you something for a long time,” Jerry said. “But you’d be really happy in that area.”
Ruby looked from one to the other, incredulous at their words. “You listen to me. I’ve earned the right to live and die where I want. I’m leaving here feetfirst just like your father. Do you understand?”
The two looked away but she wasn’t finished.
“I took care of your father in that back bedroom because this was where he wanted to spend his last days. He didn’t want to move to some retirement home or a facility. He wanted to be here. I gave that to him.”
“And we helped you,” Jerry said. “Remember?”
Ruby ignored him and kept her eyes on Frances. “You two think you know what’s best. Seems to me you’ve both made decisions you’d like to have over again.”
Frances tensed but didn’t look at Ruby.
“This is not about me being safe or kids in the neighborhood. This is about what you want. You don’t care what I want.”
“That’s not true,” Frances said. “If we didn’t care, we wouldn’t be here. But there are things you can’t see. You’re getting older, and we don’t want to lose you.”
“You’re not going to lose me. You know exactly where I am. You gave me that cell phone so I could call if I fall.”
“And where is it, Mama?” Jerry said.
She looked around the kitchen. “It’s here somewhere.”
“See? That’s what we’re talking about. If you fell—”
“I’m not going to fall. I’m careful.”
“—it would be days before anybody would find you.”
“Well, they’d be days I’d like a lot better than being shut up in some home. Or dragged to Nashville to a house with a flower patch.”
Jerry turned and shook his head. “There’s no talking to her. I told you it would be this way.”
“Mama, put yourself in our place. We love you. We don’t want anything to happen.”
“Nothing’s going to happen!” Ruby yelled.
“And we can’t let you keep driving,” Jerry said. “Isn’t that right, Frances?”
Frances got a grim look on her face. “Here’s what we think, Mama. We need you to agree that you won’t drive or we’ll have to take some steps . . . We want you to live where you want. But we can’t keep going like we’re going.”
Ruby looked at the oven timer. She got her mitts off the table and opened the door. Jerry moved to help and she glared at him like a lion standing over a fresh kill. He took a step back and watched. Ruby took the cake from the middle rack and placed it shakily on the table. She put the mitts down and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm.
She hadn’t slept well and that put her on edge. She regretted snapping at her children, but they had crossed a boundary. She had a No Trespassing sign up on her freedom and they had transgressed it.
“So you didn’t come here to talk. You came here to take my keys. Is that it?”
Frances spoke softly. “We came here to see if we could reach a compromise. We know you want to stay, for this to be where you finish your race. We want to give that to you.”
“It’s not yours to give,” Ruby muttered.
Tears came to Frances’s eyes. “We also want to love you well, Mama. But we don’t know how. And you’re not making it easy.”
“It’s not my job to make it easy. This is my life. I’ve got plans. I’ve got things I want to do. Do you think about that?”
And then the emotion came. Ruby walked to the sink and ripped off a paper towel, then sat at the table and dabbed at her eyes. Frances put a hand on her shoulder and Ruby pulled away.
“I can’t believe you would treat me this way,” Ruby said through tears.
“We’ve never done this with you before,” Frances said. “Remember when Daddy’s eyes got bad and he couldn’t drive?”
“He had me to drive him,” Ruby said, crying.
“I know,” Frances said. “This is hard for us. We don’t want to take your freedom.”
Ruby retreated behind the paper towel and, like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar, began to consider her options. How could she get her kids from the house so she could think? She worked up the tears and added a few weeping moans for effect until she got up the energy to stand. In her younger days, Ruby would have stomped out of the room quick as a whip. Now, she struggled to her feet and reached for the counter as the room began to spin. She made it up the two stairs and through the little pantry to her bedroom.
“Take the keys,” she said to no one in particular.
“Mama, now don’t be this way,” Jerry said.
Ruby closed the bedroom door behind her and locked it, waiting for them to leave.
10
BUDDY COLEMAN SURPRISES HOLLIS
BEULAH MOUNTAIN, WEST VIRGINIA
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2004
Hollis heard the Jeep engine laboring up the winding driveway but it wasn’t until he saw the CCE on the side of the vehicle that he believed it was really the man he hated. The Jeep was shiny black all over except for the mud splatters. That the man would have the audacity to show up here made Hollis’s stomach turn. He thought about retrieving a rifle from inside the front door, the one he kept handy for the groundhog that was eating his strawberries, then thought better of it.
Hollis stepped off the porch and his dog came barking from a cool spot under the house. Cooper’s voice was the only thing Hollis heard as the Jeep’s engine quit and he didn’t try to quiet the dog.
Buddy Coleman stepped out of the vehicle wearing a red polo shirt and crisp, tight-fitting jeans that came down over his leather boots. His Coleman Coal and Energy baseball cap was pulled down to eyebrow level. Hollis had seen this look in his dreams—a man in the same outfit speaking at a press conference, stoic and sorrowful. The only thing the company was sorry about was decreased coal production after an accident.
Buddy Coleman was the new face of the company, clean-shaven and boyish. Hollis wondered if he even had to shave. He wanted to say that Buddy wasn’t half the man his grandfather was, but you can’t halve a zero. He had seen Buddy on the news, but he hadn’t expected him to be so small. His boots looked taller than he was.
Buddy got as far as the edge of the Jeep and stopped, glancing at the barking dog, who didn’t give ground. Buddy looked at Hollis, then back at Cooper, and knelt, his jeans tightening as he reached eye level with the black Labrador. He held out the back of his hand and Cooper moved closer and sniffed.
“Good girl,” Buddy said with a soothing voice. “Just had a corn dog from the Company Store. Would’ve saved some if I’d known I was going to meet a pretty thing like you.”
He stood and Cooper retreated, swishing his tail and sitting beside Hollis.
Buddy scanned the horizon. “No wonder you don’t want to give this up, Mr. Beasley.”
“Am I supposed to thank you for saying that?”
“No, I’m just empathizing with how hard it would be to let it go. This is some view.”
“Why don’t you empathize from the main road? This is not your property.”
Buddy leaned on his Jeep and crossed his arms. “You’re right. It’s not. But both of us know what’s going to eventually happen.”<
br />
The man’s face was like a basset hound’s. Sad eyes for such a young man.
“Both of us don’t know anything of the sort,” Hollis said.
Buddy frowned. “You’re smarter than that, Mr. Beasley. I know you are. The only real question about this land is what you’re going to get out of it. If you leave sooner, you’ll do well for yourself and your family. Leave later and it won’t go so well.”
“I got a camera inside that records everything that happens out here,” Hollis said, lying.
Two hands in the air and a big smile. “Knock yourself out. Record all you want. I didn’t come up here with any agenda but friendship.” Buddy turned to look toward the top of the hill. “We’ll take care of them. You know that.”
“I don’t trust you with the living. Why would I trust you with the dead?”
“Now be reasonable, Mr. Beasley.” He paused dramatically. “You heard the Adkinses are selling.”
Hollis stared at him.
“They made the sensible choice. And we’re taking good care of them. Giving a fair price. They’ve got a future and a hope now. They’re out from under the taxes. They can make a new start. And with the amount of acreage you have here, you’d walk away with a pretty penny.”
“I don’t need a pretty penny. I don’t need your friendship, either.”
Buddy took a deep breath like he was about to go underwater. “Let’s say you keep this strip of the mountain. Let’s say you manage to stay. The view’s going to change. The blasting will give you a headache. The machines will run up and down all day. That won’t be good for Mrs. Beasley. I hear she needs medical attention.”
“Leave her out of this.”
“The price for this mountain would provide what you’d need to move somewhere nice. Out West, maybe, where the air’s dry. Or near the ocean. You could retire comfortably.”
“I’m retiring here. That’s my choice. And you’ve made yours. You and the company won’t be happy until you’ve made Beulah Mountain a ghost town like the others up and down the ridge.”
“That’s not true. Have you seen the museum? I hear your granddaughter works there. It’s a new day in Beulah Mountain. We’re bringing jobs back. Safe jobs.”
