by Ruth White
Ruby sighed and figured if she was going to be here much longer, she would have to ask Miss Arbutus to send her manicuring supplies on top of everything else she had asked for—hair bows and bobby pins, a comb, more underwear, more stationery and a fountain pen, a clock, a calendar, a new toothbrush, and she couldn’t remember what all else.
After supper Ruby served her grandma a small dish of blackberries with brown sugar and milk.
“They’re bitter,” Grandma complained.
“I’ll fetch you some more sugar.”
“No! We all must have our share of bitter berries, Jolene. Don’t you know that?”
“I beg . . . uh, what do you mean?”
The old woman gave her a hard look. “I mean what I said. You, my girl, have lived a pampered life and have not tasted your share of bitter berries, but you will. You will.”
Ruby hated the mean expression on Grandma’s face, so she changed the subject.
“Do you want to hear about Mrs. Thornton Elkins tonight? She was raised to be a lady, but now she has no money.”
Her grandma said nothing. She would never admit that she enjoyed Ruby’s stories.
Ruby spent the next forty minutes talking about Mrs. Thornton Elkins. Then she went to her room and read from her mother’s notes before going to bed.
Dear Daddy, A man came to school and taught us acrobatics. He says I am double-jointed. He played French harp. Love, Jo
Dear Daddy, I have a boyfriend. He is fifteen like me. His name is Clay, and you would like him. He is going to help me with algebra. Love, Jo
Dear Daddy, The loneliest sound in the world is the train whistle in the valley at night. Why does Mama hate me? Love, Jo
This last message was in Ruby’s head when she woke up in the dead of night to the sound of that train whistle. It was very faint and faraway, and it put an ache in her heart. She wondered if it was the same train that came screaming into Way Down at dawn.
What had her mother thought about when she woke up in this very bed and heard that sad echo in the hills?
Poor Jo as a child had had no choice but to put up with this cranky woman. She had never known Miss Arbutus and Way Down. This forlorn mountain home had been her whole life!
So it was that Ruby grieved at last for her parents. She turned her face into the pillow and cried for the girl who had tried to bring some joy into her lonely existence by hanging wallpaper samples in her room and writing notes on them to her dead father. And she cried for the boy who had grown up without a family, and then had died before he could enjoy a life with his wife and child.
The next evening, Cedar walked into the common room of The Roost to find Miss Arbutus and Lucy Elkins sitting together on a sofa, with Rita between them. They were looking through an album of photos, mostly of Ruby.
“Oh, hello, Cedar!” Lucy Elkins said to him. “I guess you have come to take Rita home?”
He simply nodded and held out a hand for his sister.
This time the little girl was dressed in a canary yellow sundress with daisies on the pockets and around the neckline. It was another of Ruby’s hand-me-downs. Rita had dribbled soup beans down the front while eating dinner with Miss Arbutus and her guests.
She offered her cheek to Miss Arbutus and Lucy Elkins for a goodbye kiss. While they were making over her, the door opened again, and three identical girls entered. They were all dressed in white, with blue ribbons in their hair, which this night fell in blond curls around their shoulders.
At the sight of them, Cedar’s mouth fell open, and he forgot where he was or who he was.
“Good evening,” Lucy Elkins said cheerfully to the girls. Then, to Cedar and Rita, “These are the Fuller triplets. They are . . .”
“I’m Connie Lynn.”
“I’m Sunny Gaye.”
“And I’m Bonnie Clare.”
“Y’all look like a picture,” Lucy complimented them. “Don’t they, Miss Arbutus?”
Miss Arbutus smiled and nodded.
The girls all spoke at the same time.
“We come to tell you about the prayer meeting.”
“It’s to be at seven p.m. tomorrow night.”
“Across the road at the football field.”
And in unison, “We’ll be prayin’ for Ruby June.”
“Thank you,” Miss Arbutus said.
Cedar continued staring at the girls, obviously mesmerized.
“So we’ll be seeing you there.”
“Don’t forget.”
“Bring somebody.”
“I’ll be there,” said Lucy Elkins.
“Me too!” Cedar blurted out. “I love prayin’ better’n anything.”
The girls turned to him.
“We’ve heard about your bad mouth.”
“Come with a civil tongue in your head.”
“Don’t dishonor God with your cussin’.”
Cedar turned beet red.
“I-I—” he stuttered. “I—” and could not say more.
“Just don’t cuss!” Lucy Elkins relieved him of further effort. “That’s all they’re asking.”
Cedar grabbed Rita’s hand and stumbled out the door. All the way home, he was silently cussing himself out. They found Robber Bob sitting alone in the rocker on the front porch.
“Peter’s got comic books in his bedroom,” Robber Bob said. “He got ’em free from Mr. Rife at the five-and-dime store.”
Rita hurried inside to join her brothers, but Cedar perched on a stool beside his father. They sat in silence for a time.
“Something on your mind, son?” Robber Bob said to Cedar after a while.
Cedar changed positions on his stool and hooked his feet on the rungs, but didn’t say anything.
“It’s a nice night,” Robber Bob said softly. “I always think of your mama on nights like this.”
The lightning bugs were beginning to come out. The evening was still, and they could hear strains of music coming from somebody’s radio down the street.
Cedar pulled something white from his pocket and buried his face in it. Robber Bob recognized the item as a lace handkerchief, which he had given to his wife on her birthday.
“It still holds her special smell, don’t it?” he said to his son, almost in a whisper.
“Yeah. It smells like vanilla flavoring.”
Robber Bob chuckled. “She baked so much for you young’uns, she always smelled like something good to eat.”
“Daddy, sometimes I miss her so much I feel like something’s bustin’ loose in my chest.”
“That’s your heart breaking, son,” his daddy empathized. “I know the feeling.”
“Why did she have to die?”
“I don’t have the answer to that.”
“Sometimes I’m so mad . . . so mad . . .” Cedar could not go on.
“I know, son.”
“Tell me about our last Thanksgiving together, Daddy. Remember it for me.”
“Well, it was cold,” Robber Bob began softly. “I remember she sat there at the hearth with the firelight dancing in her eyes.”
Cedar interrupted, “And she was wearing a blue kinda gown thing, and she said she would be on her way by Christmas, didn’t she?”
“That’s right,” Robber Bob said. “She knew she was dying.”
“And she told us not to cry. Didn’t she, Daddy? Did she really say that, or did I make it up?”
“Yeah, she said it, but she meant not to cry forever, Cedar. It’s okay to grieve. She would tell you that.”
“And she told us that only her body would be dead, that her soul would go on living.”
“That’s right, Cedar.”
“Then where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“She said her soul would come back in another body.”
“That’s what she believed, my boy.”
“Do you believe it?”
“I just don’t know.”
The tears had begun to fall from Cedar’s eyes, and he did not try to stop the
m. “I don’t mean to cuss so bad, Daddy. I know it shames you, but sometimes I . . .”
Robber Bob reached out and placed a hand on Cedar’s shoulder. “I know, Cedar. You’re a good boy at heart. Your mama always did say so.”
“But now she would be so ashamed of me!” Cedar sobbed out loud.
Robber Bob took the trembling boy into his arms then, and allowed him to cry against his shoulder.
The very next morning Cedar walked straight into the doctor’s office and settled into a chair without ceremony.
“Mr. Doctor, I done it.”
“Done what?” Mr. Doctor replied absentmindedly. He was reading a medical journal. He looked up. “Oh, hello, Cedar. What did you do, my boy?”
“You know, I talked to my daddy, and I . . . I bawled like a little bitty baby.”
“That’s very good,” Mr. Doctor said, and smiled. “How do you feel?”
“Lighter.”
“It’s a beginning.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean bad habits don’t go away overnight. We have to work on them.”
“You told me there were four steps to take.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I’ve took the first three, now what’s the fourth one?”
“You have to go to Mrs. Bevins and tell her how sorry you are that you made fun of her.”
“Oh.”
“Are you willing to do that?”
“I reckon so, but you’ll have to admit, Mr. Doctor, she really did look like a bumblebee.”
“Mrs. Bevins grew up very poor, Cedar. She loved pretty clothes, but she had to wear feed-sack dresses and hand-me-downs from her sisters. It was painful to her, and she promised herself that when she grew up, she would have nice things and always try to look attractive.
“When she married Mr. Bevins, who is a generous man, he indulged her little vanities. And they have a very happy marriage because of it.”
“I still say she looked like a bumblebee,” Cedar mumbled stubbornly.
“That may be, but your opinion doesn’t count, nor does mine. Mrs. Bevins believes her taste in clothes is impeccable, and in the long run, it’s only what one thinks of oneself that matters.”
28
I NEED TO USE THE PHONE, LUCY.”
It was a sticky day in August, and Miss Arbutus had come out of her room after taking a nap. She had not slept well the night before.
Surprised, Lucy Elkins dropped the black phone into its cradle, and Miss Arbutus picked it up.
“Do you know the sheriff’s number, Lucy?”
“Yes, it’s Olive-2002,” Lucy said, and she dialed the number for Miss Arbutus.
“Sheriff,” Miss Arbutus said after a moment, “this is Arbutus Ward. I have something very important to tell Detective Holland. Can you get him over here?”
Pause.
“That’s right, it’s about the night Ruby Jo came to us. Call me when he arrives, and I will come to your office.”
Another pause.
“So you will both come over here, then? Fine. Let me know when. I’ll meet you in the common room.”
Later on in the afternoon, Lucy Elkins answered when the sheriff called back.
“Tell Miss Arbutus that Detective Holland is on his way, and we will come to The Roost together after supper.”
Of course, several people just happened to pick up the phone and overhear both these conversations, and before long every person in Way Down knew that Miss Arbutus had used the telephone to talk to the sheriff. Furthermore, she had told him that she had something important to say about Ruby, and she would say it to the sheriff and the detective in the common room of The Roost after supper.
As Miss Arbutus and Lucy Elkins finished clearing the supper dishes, the townspeople began to arrive. They came in twos and threes. They did not say why they were there, and nobody asked. Mr. Gentry and Miss Worly welcomed them. Miss Arbutus had disappeared into her room to prepare herself mentally.
The people greeted one another and chatted in low tones as if they were in church. They talked about the weather and the price of sugar, about recipes and the health of their families, anything but Ruby and what Miss Arbutus might have to say to the detective.
As Sheriff Reynolds and Detective Holland approached The Roost, the detective turned to the sheriff and said, “What’s all this? Why are these people here?”
“Oh, they’re just curious,” the sheriff said. “They want to hear what Miss Arbutus has to say.”
“But Miss Arbutus may feel that her privacy is being invaded.”
“Not at all,” the sheriff responded. “If Miss Arbutus had wanted to keep this private, she would not have used the telephone.”
Inside the common room, the two men found that comfortable chairs had been reserved for them. They sat down and faced the most comfortable chair of all, which was also vacant, obviously being reserved for Miss Arbutus.
No sooner were the lawmen settled than Miss Arbutus came out of her room and walked down the short hallway and into the common room. All was quiet as she entered, elegantly dressed in an ashes-of-roses silk dress. Her hair was tastefully done in a high French twist, and small patches of color could be detected on her cheekbones and on her lips.
A murmur of approval rose from the group. She smiled a bit nervously at the people and went directly to her chair.
The Reeders were seated on cushions on the hearth, and at sight of Miss Arbutus, little Rita tried to pull away from her father, but he would not let her go. The people made brief friendly comments such as “Good evening, Miss Arbutus,” “How nice you look tonight, Miss Arbutus,” “What a lovely dress!”
There were also remarks about the appearance of The Roost: how comfortable it was, how pleasant, how nicely the ceiling fans cooled the room, even with all the people in it.
Those who could not squeeze into the common room stayed on the porch. Some of them crowded around the open windows, hoping to hear better. When Miss Arbutus spoke to the detective, all other voices fell silent.
“Thank you for coming this long distance, Detective Holland. As I told the sheriff, I do have something important to tell you, and I don’t want to waste your time, so I will begin.”
She cleared her throat and looked at her hands, apparently searching for just the right words. In the lull, the soft hum of the fans could be heard.
“I will begin in March of 1944,” Miss Arbutus said at last. “As many of you may remember, my dear father, Lucas Ward, passed away that month. He was the last member of my family, and I had spent the previous ten years of my life taking care of him. We were very close, and I was more grief-stricken than I can say. I had no family, no husband or children who needed me. I was the last Ward left in Way Down, and I could hardly bear the emptiness. So I fell into a deep depression.
“In fact, I found it difficult to get out of bed in the mornings. I felt I no longer had a purpose in life. That was the state I found myself in as summer approached. I knew that I could not go on in this way. I wanted to die.”
Sympathetic sounds could be heard in the room.
“From the time I was very young, I have had vivid dreams, and in this time of trouble, they were even more so. For three nights in a row I heard a young child crying for its mother. It was a very troubling, touching cry, and in my dreams, I searched and searched, but to no avail.
“Finally, on the fourth night, as I drifted into dreams, I slipped way down deep inside myself for answers. And there I found the other me. Let me explain: I have learned that inside each of us are two beings. One is the conscious self, the one we present to the world. And the other is the wiser self, the one who slumbers in the heart with the wisdom of the ages.
“That night the wise one told me that a treasure lay waiting for me. And she would show me where it was. I mistakenly supposed that she was going to take me to the legendary treasure of Way Down, and I was thrilled. But suddenly I found myself in a strange place away from here.
“I was on the top of a mountain right under the stars. Before me was a weather-beaten house with a large porch, and on the porch were seven children sleeping in the moonlight. But I had eyes only for the smallest one. I knew I had found my treasure.
“She lay on one side with her thumb in her mouth. She had cried herself to sleep, and she took short, quick breaths—you know what I mean? She had the snubs. That’s what I’ve heard mothers call it.”
Miss Arbutus looked toward Mr. Doctor. “I think it’s something like hyperventilation, isn’t it, Mr. Doctor?”
Mr. Doctor nodded. “Yes, it happens when children cry so long and hard, they can’t get a good breath.”
Miss Arbutus continued. “Well, that’s what it was. Tears still glistened on the toddler’s cheek. The fine bright hair stuck to her neck and forehead in tiny curls, for it was a warm night.
“ ‘Your treasure,’ the wise one said to me. ‘Her mother and father have died. She is bullied and teased by the other children here. And she’s just an aggravation to the adults. Take her home, for she will be stifled here and unloved, her gentle spirit broken.’
“I asked no questions. I bunched up my white nightgown and got down on my hands and knees beside the child. I touched her cheek and spoke softly to her. ‘Come with me.’
“When she woke up and saw me, a great, wonderful smile lit up her face. She said, ‘Mommie!’ and hugged my neck.
“I said to her, ‘Let’s ride horsie!’ And I scrunched down right beside her so that she could crawl onto my back.
“When she climbed up she was giggling. ‘Wide hossie! Hossie!’ she said.
“On all fours I leapt around in the yard for a few minutes to please her. Then I rose up with the little thing clinging to my neck. I clutched her chubby legs around my waist, and set off for home.”
29
AT THAT VERY MOMENT ON YONDER MOUNTAIN, GOLDIE Combs and Ruby stood facing each other in the kitchen.
“You sneaked up there and took that picture without permission!” Goldie Combs yelled.
“They are my parents,” Ruby said. “I felt the picture was mine.”
“You stole it,” her grandma said.
