Seasons of Her Life

by Fern Michaels

  “I told you a friend of mine is in town. I’m having breakfast and lunch with that friend and then I’m driving that friend to the airport. End of discussion.” Damn, the cat was free and chasing the mice. Calvin finished his coffee and turned off the television.

  “Then I can’t play, either. Why didn’t you tell me this last night? Now I’ll have to call and cancel.”

  “So call and cancel. You always said I was a lousy player. You’re a good player, so you should find a good partner. In fact, I think I won’t be playing anymore. And I’m not shaving off this mustache,” Calvin declared. With Ruby in his life he’d finally found the courage to rail back at Eve. God, how he hated the Sunday afternoon bridge games.

  “You can’t just go and change everything in our lives whenever you feel like it,” Eve shouted.

  “Oh? Did you forget that talk we had last night? I meant every word,” Calvin said airily.

  Both Ruby and Calvin stared at the digital clock with the bright red numbers. Calvin shifted the pillows behind his head. Ruby squirmed to a more comfortable position in the crook of his arm. “We have to get dressed,” Calvin said quietly.

  “I feel sad,” Ruby said, snuggling deeper. “I don’t want to go home. There’s no one there for me.”

  “I don’t want to go home, either,” Calvin muttered as he smoothed Ruby’s damp hair back from her brow. She smelled so sweet, so musky, so like himself. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and you can tell me when you can get away so we can meet in Kansas City. What’s a good time to call?”

  “Before you leave the office or on your way home. Six, six-thirty.”

  “Okay. I’ll rent a post office box on my lunch hour. You’ll write every day even if we talk on the phone?”

  “I promise.”

  Thirty-five minutes later the green Beetle roared to the curb at Washington’s National Airport. “You’ll have to run, Ruby, you have only ten minutes. Don’t say anything.”

  She nodded. On the curb, suitcase in hand, she turned, “You forgot to carve our initials in the tree.” She grinned.

  “A small matter for this general. I’ll drive over to the park and do it now with my official Air Force pocket knife.”

  “It’s dark.” Ruby laughed.

  “I’ll use my official Air Force flashlight. The next time you come back, it will look like it’s been there for twenty-seven years. Go, now, before one of us does something stupid.”

  Ruby ran. Calvin drove to Rock Creek Park and kept his promise.

  Calvin was so absorbed in this thoughts when he came home he barely noticed that the outside light was on or that his place was set for dinner. A pot of spaghetti, one of his favorites, was on the stove. He discovered Eve sitting on the sofa in the den. “You can have the chair,” he said magnanimously. “As a matter of fact, you can have the whole room.” It was hard not to smile, not to shout out how happy he was. It was a weekend he would never forget.

  He left the room and closed the door behind him. He locked the door to his own room when he went inside. Funny, he thought. In all the years they had been married, this was the first time he had ever locked that door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ruby backed her car out of the driveway before she turned on the headlights. Twenty minutes yet till dawn. She was going to bang on Dixie’s door until it was opened to her. If she had to break a pane of glass to get into her friend’s house through the garage, she would do it. She wasn’t going to let one more minute pass until she knew what was going on in Dixie’s life. Five days with no word from her meant big trouble. Dixie owed her a satisfactory explanation if nothing else.

  The drive was short. Seven minutes according to the watch on her wrist. Now what? she thought as she doused the lights and cut the ignition. Now you get out of the car, walk around to the kitchen door, and you bang hard enough to wake the dead. There was that word again, the word she hated the most in the English language. Dead. Or was it good-bye? You’re stalling, Ruby.

  The night-light in Dixie’s kitchen cast a yellowish light on the furnishings. For a second she almost didn’t see her friend sitting at the breakfast table in the corner. She could tell Dixie was crying by the way her shoulders shook. She felt her eyes widen when she noticed the bottle of whiskey and the short, squat glass near her elbow. Something was wrong. Dixie never drank. She’d never seen her take more than a few sips of anything. Hugo didn’t drink at all.

  She had second thoughts now. Did she have the right to intrude on her friend? She argued with herself. Friends and family were what life was all about. Whatever was wrong now had something to do with that awful phone call and the words that passed between them. She knew the door wasn’t locked. Dixie hardly ever locked the kitchen door. She turned the round brass knob and the door opened without a sound. Ruby tiptoed into the kitchen.

  “Hey,” she said softly, “I was in the neighborhood and saw your light.”

  Dixie turned, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was just thinking about you, Ruby. Oh, Ruby,” she wailed.

  “Shhh,” Ruby said, wrapping Dixie in her arms. “Whatever’s wrong, and I know something is wrong, we’ll make it right together. Two heads are always better than one. Now, tell me.”

  “Hugo is dying. He absolutely refused to go to the hospital. He slipped into a coma last night. The doctor was here. He stops by twice a day. I couldn’t burden you, Ruby. This was ... is something I have to deal with. That ... that phone call ... it was a horror. Hugo ... well, what happened was I finally told him I was half of Mrs. Sugar. I came right out and said the words. If he hadn’t been so sick, I know he would have killed me right on the spot. He’s been getting some kind of bootleg drug from Mexico. He used almost all the money in our joint savings account. I don’t care about that. He refused to go to the Navy doctors. The truth is, I think he refused to believe he was as sick as he was. Then, when I told him about all the money I had, he went into a rage. He said he could have gone to Switzerland, to France, to all these places where they have miracle cures. He even said he wanted to go to Lourdes. I was getting all set to call and make arrangements to take him, when you called. Hugo was being ... Hugo. Then he went into this whole thing with his family and how he was the only one who never measured up. He said ... Ruby, he said he married me only to spite them.”

  Ruby’s heart thumped in her chest. She wanted to go to wherever Hugo was and drive a stake through his heart for the way he’d treated her friend.

  “Do you know what he did then, Ruby? God, you are never going to believe this. He made me sign over a power of attorney. Then he called his family. He ... he had this absolutely insane conversation with them. He said ... he told them he was half of Mrs. Sugar. He said it was the same as being a famous heart surgeon, a judge, a big-time lawyer, or owning a famous antique store. Then he told them he was dying. He had this ... this terrible look on his face. I think it was the first time he ... admitted to himself that he ... that he wasn’t going to make it. Then he said ... he ... he said he was making a will and leaving his half of Mrs. Sugar to his family. My God, Ruby, he really said that! He was going to give away half of what I’ve worked for all these years.”

  “Oh, Dixie, how terrible for you. It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right. We’ll make it right. Now, go wash your face. I’m going to cook us some breakfast and then we’re going to do whatever has to be done.”

  A fierce protective surge rushed through Ruby. She cradled Dixie in her arms as if she were her own child. She murmured comforting, soothing words, stroked her hair while she patted her back.

  “Oh, Ruby, what would I do without you?” Dixie sobbed. “You’re the only good thing that ever happened to me. I’m sorry I upset you. I’m sorry about the phone call. Sorry I put you through even one moment of anxiety. I wish ... sometimes I wish I were dead.”

  Ruby stiff-armed her friend. “Do not, I repeat, do not ever let me hear you say that again. Do you hear me, Dixie?” she said harshly.

  �
�I didn’t mean it, Ruby. It’s just that sometimes I—Look, let’s start over. I was going to wash my face and you were going to make breakfast. I’m really hungry. I don’t think I ate last night. I can’t really remember. Just one egg, though.”

  “You got it,” Ruby said, giving herself a mental shake.

  Everything was going to be all right. She was almost sure of it.

  Ruby shifted in the redwood chair she had brought into the sickroom. Dixie was dozing, something they took turns doing. It was so hard to stay awake. She tried to think of other things, tried not to listen to Hugo’s labored breathing. Somewhere she’d heard the term death rattle, a sound that came from a dying person’s mouth right before he took his last breath. She wondered what it would sound like. There was something different about Hugo’s breathing now, but she didn’t know what. She shifted again, her dress sticking to the plastic seat cushions. She had to go to the bathroom. She wanted a cigarette, too, and a cold drink.

  “What’s wrong?” Dixie said, jerking to wakefulness.

  “Nothing. I have to go to the bathroom and I want something to drink. There’s no change. Let’s go downstairs to the kitchen, where it isn’t so hot.”

  Dixie nodded. She walked over to the bed, checked the IV, straightened the sheet, which didn’t need straightening, and brushed a nonexistent wrinkle from the collar of her husband’s pajama top. Satisfied that nothing had changed, she followed Ruby from the room.

  It was cooler in the kitchen where a gentle breeze puffed through the window. It occurred to Ruby to wonder why neither she nor Dixie had installed air-conditioning in their houses. Just as they hadn’t moved or remodeled. Did they try to keep things the same out of fear? Someday she was going to sit down and do nothing but think about it all.

  “We should have gotten a nurse,” Ruby said, sipping from the soda bottle. “If you’re half as tired as I am ...” She let the rest of what she was going to say hang in the still air.

  “I like this time of day,” Dixie said quietly. “The day is over. Either you did well or you know that tomorrow you can do better. The sun is going down, the leaves on the trees rustle. It’s a nice sound, trees rustling, don’t you think, Ruby?”

  Ruby turned on the oven again. She nodded. “Why are you whispering?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hugo is in a coma, he can’t hear us,” Ruby continued to whisper. “Why didn’t we get a nurse, Dixie? I’m so tired, I can’t remember.”

  “Because I’m stupid, that’s why. I’m all mixed up. When I go on after Hugo’s death, I want to know I, personally, did everything I could to make his last days comfortable. I didn’t want some person who didn’t even know him washing my husband. I signed up for until death do us part, and I’m still on the books. I guess it’s stupid and foolish, because I couldn’t have done all this without you. I’m sorry if I haven’t thanked you.”

  Ruby turned the oven on. She didn’t know why. Maybe for the same reason she always flushed the toilet when things were bothering her. She turned it off again.

  “We should eat something.”

  “What?”

  “Cereal, tomato soup, that’s about all you have.”

  Dixie shook her head. “Not for me.” She thought for a moment.

  “I don’t think Hugo will make it through the night. His breathing sounds different to me.”

  “Are you going to call Hugo’s family?”

  Dixie brushed at a fly circling in front of her. “There’s a hole in the kitchen screen. Isn’t it amazing how a fly can find that tiny little hole and get through? No.”

  Ruby turned on the oven. “Where’s the fly swatter?”

  “Under the sink.” Dixie turned the oven off.

  “Have you given any thought to ... to ... you have to get his clothes ready, call the minister, go to the funeral home, all that ... stuff. Pick out a ... or else they do it ... die!” She screamed shrilly as she swatted at the fly, missing by a foot.

  Dixie turned the oven on. Ruby turned it off. They looked at each other helplessly.

  “Where are you going to ... wake him?” She dreaded the three-day ordeal looming ahead of her.

  Dixie opened a second can of soda. She sat back down at the table. It was a long time before she replied.

  “I’m not. I’m gonna nuke him,” she said, her eyes wild.

  Ruby choked and sputtered, swallowing the smoke she’d been about to inhale. “What?”

  “You know, cremate him. You get the ashes in a cup or something,” Dixie said, her lips barely moving as she talked.

  “Or something? Then what? What are you going to do with the ... cup? Keep it on the mantel? My God,.when did you come up ... when did you decide this?”

  “This morning. If there’s a place, a grave, I won’t be able to get on with my life. It will never be over if there’s a place.”

  Ruby felt weak. Cremation was something she’d never thought about. “The ashes ... the cup ... they’ll be there ... in a place. They have rooms for ... stuff like that. I saw it in a movie once. A place is a place. How can that be different?”

  “It isn’t. That’s why I’m not going to keep the ashes. I believe in ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

  Ruby swayed dizzily before she reached down to turn the oven on. Her tongue refused to work. The bluebottle was in front of her. She reached up, caught it in both hands, walked to the screen door, and let it loose. She pinched off a corner of a paper napkin and stuffed it in the miniscule hole in the screen. She felt Dixie’s eyes boring into her back.

  “The only way there won’t be a place, the only way I can end it is to ... you know that bridge on the way to Point Pleasant? You can walk across it. I’m going to dump ... pour the ashes into the water. The current will carry them away. Hugo will be ... out there somewhere, but there won’t be a place where . . .” Her voice turned stubborn, unlike anything Ruby had ever heard.

  Ruby worked her tongue around the inside of her mouth, trying to work up enough saliva so she could talk. “That’s illegal! My God, kids fish there,” she said stupidly. “What if some kid’s mother doesn’t clean his fish well enough?”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “The pine barrens, you could go there and ... and sprinkle ... dump, unload . . .”

  “The river is the only answer. The river will wash him away.”

  “But what if someone sees you, what if you get caught? Picture the headlines, Dixie. Picture the headlines!” Ruby said desperately.

  “I’ll do it at night, when it’s dark. No one will ever know but us.”

  Ruby knew when to give up. “All right, all right, but it’s the dumbest, stupidest thing I ever heard of. I’m sorry I brought up the subject.”

  “I’m not. I needed to say it out loud, to talk it through.”

  The fly was back. How did it get in? Ruby reached for the fly swatter, taking a wild swing. She lost her balance when Dixie said, “I’d like it if you’d go with me when the time comes. You don’t have to go on the bridge with me, just sort of stand at the end and warn me if ... if anyone is coming. Think about it, Ruby, you don’t have to give me an answer right now.”

  Aiding and abetting. She nodded, too rattled to do anything else. No, no, she could never do it. Not even for Dixie.

  When the new sun crept over the horizon, both women watched Hugo Sinclaire take his last tortured breath. Ruby cried; she didn’t know why. Relief, she thought.

  “I want you to go home, Ruby. I need to be alone with Hugo for a little while. It’s going to be awful when ... when they take him away. I don’t want you to see that. I have calls to make, things to do. Thanks for being here all these weeks. I couldn’t have gotten through this without you. I’ll call you later, I promise. There are some things you can’t help me with, and this is one of them.”

  Ruby stopped in the bathroom. She flushed the toilet.

  Two days later, on August 25, Mrs. Sugar’s corporate doors were closed for the first ti
me in the company’s history. The reason: a memorial service for Hugo Sinclaire.

  Four days after the memorial service, on a sticky, unbearably hot day, Dixie called Ruby. “I picked it up today. Tonight is the night. I just have to transfer the ... the contents into something less visible. I thought a mayonnaise jar would be good. What do you think?”

  “Why the hell not?” Ruby snapped to cover the horror she felt. “A mayonnaise jar is as good as anything else. What are you going to do with the ... the um and the jar ... after?” God, oh, God, she wasn’t having this conversation.

  “Toss it in the first Dumpster I come to on the way home. Do you think it’s gonna rain?”

  “Will that stop you?” Ruby shrilled, her stomach curling into a knot.

  “No. Who’s going to drive? You are coming with me, right?”

  Ruby’s fuddled brain struggled to come up with an answer. If she agreed and Dixie drove, that meant she would have to hold the remains. She shivered. “I’ll drive. What time do you want me to pick you up?” She wasn’t saying all this, wasn’t agreeing, it was a nightmare, and she’d wake up as soon as she hung up the phone.

  She wished she’d gone to the office, but she hadn’t been back since Hugo’s death. Dixie hadn’t either. She did call once a day, though, to see if anything out of the ordinary was going on. She always felt disgruntled when she was told everything was under control.

  She couldn’t stand around there sucking her thumb like some ninny. What she needed to do was something physical that required the use of both arms, both feet, and all of her attention. She opted for the garden and her flower beds.

  Pruning shears, trowel, shovel, spade, and watering can in hand, she marched to the yard and the borders that lined the house. She looked at everything with a critical eye and could find no fault with any of the flower beds, rosebushes, or evergreens. Obviously, the money she paid her gardener was not wasted. “Shit,” she muttered, dumping her tools on the ground. Damn, she’d come out here to do something and she was damn well going to do it. Within ten minutes she hacked her rosebushes to a stub, whacked six spreading yews to nothing, and decapitated two white birch trees. She tramped through a bed that was supposed to resemble an English flower garden. Obviously, her talents weren’t needed in the garden.