Seasons of Her Life

by Fern Michaels

  The week before Martha’s birthday, Ruby received a letter from her husband saying his tour was being extended for another few months. He was being assigned to the Korean Military Group (KMG) as an adviser to the Korean Marines. He had volunteered, he said, because he knew it was what the general expected. There’s going to be a screwup in orders, so just ride with it. You’ll love our new billet, he’d added along with a line of exclamation marks to prove his point.

  Ruby read the letter aloud to her eleven-month-old daughter, whose attention was riveted on a stack of brightly colored blocks. The moment they toppled, she crawled to her mother to rebuild them. Ruby smiled indulgently and rebuilt them carefully, reciting each color and shape. Martha clapped her hands and knocked them over a second time.

  Later, when Martha was tired of blocks and wind-up toys, Ruby put her down for a nap, a full bottle clutched in her chubby fists, the handmade quilt tucked close to her face. Ruby smiled, her eyes full of love.

  She was reading Andrew’s letter a second time when a knock sounded on her front door. Thinking it was one of her friends, Ruby called out, “Come in.”

  “Corporal Wagoner,” the young man said removing his cap. “Are you Mrs. Ruby Blue?” Ruby nodded. “I have a message for you from headquarters, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Corporal.”

  A message for her. Her hand started to shake as she read it. It was from Andrew, but had been copied out by someone in the communications office. It was cut and dried. Ruby blinked, first in surprise and then in anger.

  “It isn’t fair,” she muttered. “First the baby and now this.”

  This meant Andrew’s tour had been extended for an extra six months, not the three or four he’d mentioned in his letter. She, however, was to go ahead and move to their new location. In exactly one week, on Martha’s birthday. “And just how am I supposed to do that, Andrew?” she said sourly. He’d said there would be a foulup. She didn’t even know where the new location was. She knew a moment later when she flipped the page. “Hawaii! What about my car! Where am I supposed to get the money for all this?” she demanded.

  Arlene Frankel hadn’t said a word about her husband’s tour being extended. Right now she was in Hawaii, meeting her husband, who was on leave. Was the general going back to Korea, or was Andrew left behind to clear things up?

  Five days! It’s impossible. Besides, she’d planned a birthday party for Martha. The Querys were coming. “Damn you, Andrew. I can’t believe this all happened at the last minute, because if that was the case, I’m sure Mrs. Frankel would have told me,” she muttered.

  Ruby panicked then, much the way she had the day of Martha’s birth when the awful storm hit. When she arrived in Hawaii, where would she live? Nothing was said about military housing, so that meant they would have to live off the base and pay out more money for expenses. Hawaii might be a transfer dream, but reality was something else. If there was a foulup in orders, she could end up living on the street. She’d heard horror stories about military screwups.

  Ruby picked up the phone. In a brisk, professional voice she hadn’t used since working for Admiral Query, she explained her circumstances and at the same time expressed her displeasure at having only seven days’ notice to move lock, stock, and barrel with a year-old baby in what was obviously an error. “And what about my car, sir? What am I supposed to do with it?” She listened, not liking anything she heard. She was tempted to tell the captain what she thought of his explanations and then tell him to go to hell. She bit down on her tongue when he said, “Mrs. Blue, you are a military wife and as such you are expected to fall in and do as ordered.”

  Right then, that very second, Ruby knew she could pack up and walk out and return to Washington, D.C. She’d had just about enough of the Marine Corps and its gung-ho officers with their rules and regulations.

  In the same brisk voice Ruby said, “Give me the bottom line, Captain.” She listened, her eyes widening with shock as the captain’s voice droned to an end.

  “Well, that’s all fine, well, and good, Captain, but I find it totally unacceptable. What that means is, it isn’t good enough. There’s been a mistake and my husband’s tour has been extended. You’ll have to do better than that, or I’m not going. I can be out of here in seven days, that’s no problem. I’ll be driving to Washington, D.C., where I know I can find a place to live. I’ll leave it up to you to explain the circumstances to my husband and General Frankel. Thank you for your time, Captain.” Ruby slammed the phone down so hard, Andrew’s favorite ashtray crashed to the floor and shattered.

  Colonel Oliver Peters expelled his breath in a loud swoosh and swore loud and long. Eyebrows shot up, grins stretched from ear to ear, and guffaws rang out.

  “She’s the one who delivered her own baby. Yeah, she’s Frankel’s pet. Has her own car. You bet your ass she’ll drive to D.C. Totally unacceptable, eh? Not good enough. Screwup in orders. She was probably right. The goddamn marines never did anything right. The lady has guts. What are you going to do, Captain? Her old man is Frankel’s aide, better not forget it. She sure isn’t.”

  “I don’t make the rules, gentlemen, I obey them just the way you do.”

  “Pass the buck,” a brash major chortled.

  “For Christ’s sake, Ollie, pull some strings. It’s done all the time. She’s right, it’s goddamn unfair, and she’s probably right, it is a mistake in orders,” another marine colonel said quietly.

  “Look, I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises. Orders are orders.”

  “I wouldn’t drag my ass on this,” the colonel said lightly. “All she has to do is pack her duds, put the baby in the car, and do exactly what she said she’s going to do. She could be doing it as we speak.”

  Peters slapped his fist down on his desk. “If she does, she doesn’t belong in the fucking military. How’s that grab you?”

  “Obviously, she’s already arrived at that conclusion,” the shy second lieutenant muttered.

  “I gotta check this out. And don’t even think about leaving this room. You’re so goddamn eager to help, you can do it all if I get approval upstairs. This is a fucking first, I can tell you that. Who the hell is this Ruby Blue anyway?” the captain snarled.

  “I do believe, sir, she’s the one who . . . ah, entertained the two flags a year or so ago and then her old man got his promotion. Just like that!” the colonel said, snapping his fingers.

  “Oh, shit!” Peters said, stomping from the room.

  At seven minutes past seven, on his way to his quarters, Colonel Peters rapped on Ruby’s screen door. He blinked when she opened the door, a sleepy golden-haired child in her arms. She looked ordinary enough. The kid was cute, too. “Yes,” she said in a puzzled voice.

  “I believe we spoke earlier, Mrs. Blue. I’m Colonel Peters. I believe we can accommodate you, Mrs. Blue. If new orders come through later, you’ll be ahead of the game. One of my men will bring over your airline tickets tomorrow. Someone will meet you in Oahu and take you to Pearl. We’ll have housing for you on base. Your car will be shipped, but you’ll arrive before it does. You’re not to pack anything except yours and the child’s personal belongings. Professional movers will crate everything. If any of your property is damaged in transit, you’ll file a claim and will be compensated. You’ve got top priority, Mrs. Blue. General Frankel’s furnishings and yours will be shipped at the same time. We don’t anticipate you . . . ah, roughing it for more than twenty-four hours. Is this acceptable, Mrs. Blue?”

  “Why . . . yes . . . but I don’t . . . yes, sir, it is acceptable. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, Mrs. Blue.”

  “Pussies, my ass,” he muttered as he slid into his brand-new car that he’d spent three full months wheeling and dealing over.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ruby settled into her new quarters that this time were so clean, she gasped aloud. She wondered if it had anything to do with her husband being a captain or if it was because she’d asserted hersel
f for the first time.

  The first thing she did on settling in was write to Opal, Amber, and the bank in Washington. The second thing she did was rent a post office box so her mail from the bank would be safe.

  She hadn’t called the Frankels because she didn’t want to interfere with their vacation. She was dying to hear firsthand news of her husband, but she would be stepping out of bounds if she did that. Sooner or later, providing Mrs. Frankel knew she was here, there would be a phone call or a note dropped off by one of their stewards.

  She’d signed in on schedule, suffered through the obligatory luncheon, complete with plumeria lei, and ignored all other offers. She had a baby who needed her. She was polite but firm when she declined the invitations to teas and get-togethers. She wanted to explore this magnificent island and learn all about the people. She loved the beach with its sparkling blue water, and so did Martha. She spent long days in the sun with her daughter, frolicking in the water and building sand castles. She was having the time of her life.

  A month to the day of her arrival there was a knock on her door. Ruby looked sleepily at the small clock on her night table. Who would knock this early? Barefooted, tying the belt of her robe, she made her way to the door, muttering about inconsiderate people waking up other people. Her eyes widened in shock when she recognized the housing officer. Her heart started to thump, knowing she wasn’t going to like what she heard.

  “Ma’am, you’re going to have to vacate these premises by noon today. According to this,” he said, flashing what looked like an order done in triplicate, “you don’t belong here. There was a mistake in billeting. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. This unit has been reserved for a colonel and his family. The housing office screwed up and misassigned Captain Blue to field grade quarters and only now found the mistake.”

  “I don’t understand. I can’t possibly move, I have a baby. I have nowhere to go. I used all my money for this move, and my husband’s allotment hasn’t caught up with me. How can you do this to me? I can’t possibly move my furniture. . . .”

  “Ma’am, I’m just delivering your orders; you do as you’re told just the way I do. Noon. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may cause you.” A second later he turned on his heel smartly and walked away.

  Ruby slammed the door. Martha let out a wail that sent chills up Ruby’s spine. “My God, this can’t be happening!” she bleated. For the first time since Martha’s birth, Ruby ignored her daughter as she frantically dialed the base housing number. Thirty minutes later she knew she had no choice but to move. Where, she didn’t know.

  Blind panic rushed through her. She had exactly twenty-three dollars and forty-seven cents to her name. She’d just paid the rent yesterday. Any hopes of getting that back anytime soon were nonexistent. The paperwork alone would take months. She’d stocked the refrigerator two days ago. What was she to do with the food? It would spoil in the heat without refrigeration.

  In a trance she dressed herself and Martha. She forgot to wash her face and brush her teeth. Like a robot she pulled clothes from drawers and packed them any old way, staggering under their weight as she carried them to her car, Martha tugging on her skirt as she went along.

  An hour into her packing her tears gave way to scorching anger. How could they do this to her? It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. Her slim body was rigid with fury as she carried the last of her belongings to the car. She had to leave the furniture, her cooking utensils, and Martha’s toys behind. Her car trunk was full, as was the backseat. There was just enough room inside for her and Martha.

  If she had to leave, she would leave, but not before she said what she had to say. She drove then, carefully, her eyes glittering with fury, her knuckles white on the steering wheel, to the housing office. She stormed in, Martha in her arms, and let loose with a volley of criticism so sharp, the men stood at attention. She ended her tirade with “And you call yourself marines! You should be ashamed of yourselves. Since none of you obviously has the brains to feel shame, I’ll feel it for you. I am ashamed! You should all go to hell!” To drive her point home, she took her military pass and her PX card and ripped them into pieces, letting them drop to the floor. “This is what I think of the Marine Corps!” She stomped from the room, Martha whimpering in her arms.

  Ruby drove through the gate like a tornado. Didn’t anyone care? “Andrew, I hate you. I know the military can screw up, but somehow, some way, I feel in my gut this is all your fault. I should have heard from Mrs. Frankel by now. The fact that I haven’t makes me suspicious . . . of you.” She was crying again. How could she blame Andrew, who was in Korea? He was as much a victim as she was. It was the Corps, the damn Corps that was doing this to her.

  She’d been intending to go into town, and here she was at the beach. She felt stupid, unable to think clearly. They were homeless, courtesy of the Marine Corps. She was helping Martha from the car, half in a daze. The little girl was squealing her pleasure as she tottered toward the sandy strip of beach on shaky legs.

  While Martha ripped into the sand with a plastic shovel, Ruby sat with her head between her hands, crying. She had to get hold of herself and start to think about what she was going to do. Sleep on the beach, in the car? Martha was on whole milk now, how would she keep it cool?

  It was all a mistake. Sooner or later it would be rectified. On the other hand, perhaps it wouldn’t be resolved until Andrew returned, whenever that was. Would the Frankels wonder about her? She wished now she’d been friendlier with the other wives and had gone to their damn teas and luncheons, but that meant paying a baby-sitter, and she had no money for such luxuries. But would those persnickety wives have helped her? She doubted it. She knew now the girls from Iwo Jima Circle were unique, possibly because they were low in rank and just starting the climb. No matter what they said, she knew the camaraderie was a façade, a myth they all wanted to believe in to make life in the military bearable. It was me, me, me all the way. Where was that “we take care of our own” spirit? It was all bullshit. Pure bullshit. Like a drum roll, her grandmother’s words thundered in her ears. “The only person you can depend on is yourself.”

  Ruby’s eyes filled again. She wiped them on the sleeve of her blouse. She couldn’t keep sitting there, she had to do something.

  Martha kicked and screamed as Ruby scraped the sand from her bare feet and carried her back to the car. She was still screaming when Ruby thrust the car into gear and headed back to Nimitz Highway. She would go to Waikiki and stop at the first church she came to. Surely, the good fathers would help her. Her shoulders slumped when she remembered how she’d all but renounced God. The memory of leaving her Bible on the train flashed before her. If she was going to be punished for it, this would be the time.

  Martha was asleep now, sucking on her thumb, her blanket clutched under her chin. Poor . . . homeless baby.

  Ruby pulled up short when she saw the white steeple looming ahead of her. She gritted her teeth as she read ST. ANDREW’S CATHEDRAL. It was an Episcopal church, but she didn’t care. It must be an omen, some sort of sign she should stop there.

  She’d driven a long way, it seemed. She vaguely remembered driving through Waikiki. Everything was such a blur. She knew she had to get her wits about her or she and Martha really would end up sleeping on the beach.

  She hated to wake the child, but she had no other choice. Fortunately, the baby whimpered once and then nuzzled her head on Ruby’s shoulder. Martha was getting heavy, Ruby thought in dismay. She had to do something decisive now, like put one foot in front of the other and walk around to the priory at the back of the church.

  Ruby’s face was flushed with the heat and the weight of the child in her arms. Her eyes were pleading when the man in the clerical collar approached her. “Father, I need help,” she whispered.

  Father Joachim led Ruby to a chair and offered to take the sleeping child. Ruby shook her head. “She’ll wake up and start to cry. Strange places frighten her.” She told him about her morni
ng and going to the beach and driving around until she came to his church. She ended with “It won’t do any good to go back and plead or fight. The mixup will eventually be straightened out, but in the meantime, I need a place for Martha. You have to help me, Father. I don’t know what else to do. If you let me make a long distance call, I can call my bank in Washington and have them send me some money; it won’t be much, but I can give it to you until the ... the paperwork is straightened out. By that time Andrew’s allotment should be here. Will you help me?” she asked breathlessly.

  He had such kind eyes and such work-worn hands, Ruby thought. He seemed gentle, and when he smiled, the dim, paneled room seemed lighter somehow.

  “Of course, child. We have a small building for visitors. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. But you must share the responsibilities, the cooking and the cleaning. We have several elderly people in need of care. I think that angel you’re holding will be just the thing to perk them up. You can think of it as having a half-dozen grandparents for the little one.”

  Ruby’s eyes closed in relief. “How much will it cost, Father?”

  “In dollars and cents? Nothing. In emotion and physical work, quite a lot.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “I think you’re up to it. You see, I have several rather well-to-do parishioners who are generous with their donations. Perhaps someday when you are well off, you’ll remember St. Andrew’s.”

  “I will, Father, I swear I will. I don’t mean I swear ... what I mean is, I’ll promise.”