by Joyce Magnin
My little brother and sisters were getting ready to go back to school, but they hung around me like I was some visiting princess when I came by, and I will admit that I liked the feeling. Daddy, when I saw him—which wasn’t too often—didn’t seem to have much to say.
Life went on like that until the middle of September. Ruby Day worked each and every shift and spent the rest of her time watching TV or getting her garden ready for winter.
The worst part during that time was school. I started the eighth grade on schedule, but it was like walking into a foreign country. All the eyes in Mrs. Grady’s class stared at me like I might have had squirrels on my head. One day that nasty Francine Whitaker even whispered to Wilma Burns. She didn’t think I heard her, but I have good hearing. I heard her say, “Did you know Luna went to live with that feebleminded woman? That’s what my mama calls her. They’re like best friends now and that makes Luna feebleminded too. Only a moron would do what she’s doin’.”
I gave her such a glare that if it was a hand it would have knocked her off the chair. Not on account of her saying I was a retard, but on account of how she saw Ruby Day.
That afternoon I went to Mama and asked her about it. She was sitting on the porch with Polly as usual, shucking the last of the summer corn. “Luna,” she said in that take-charge tone she had, “what do you think you should do about the girls at school?”
“I don’t know. I can’t keep people from talking, ‘specially people who don’t understand.”
Mama kept right on shucking while I sat and thought about my problem. I scratched Polly behind the ears and every so often she whined or whimpered like she understood.
“You know,” I said after a while. “Maybe I can help them understand.”
“How so?”
“Maybe I can ask Mrs. Grady to let me talk to the whole class and explain why I went to live with Ruby Day. You know? That might help.”
Mama grew a grin as wide as an ear of corn. “That might work, Sweetheart. That might just work.”
It was right after Mama said those words that I felt my back straighten. “Thank you, Mama, thank you. I’m going to do that tomorrow.”
Mama shooed me off the porch with four ears of corn, instructions on how to boil it, and a kiss on the nose. “I am proud of you,” she said.
CHAPTER 9
Ruby Day arrived home exactly on schedule that afternoon. She headed straight to her yard and started deadheading the roses. That was usually a signal that she had tough day. Mason told me once or twice that when Ruby Day felt angry or sad she would work in her garden until she felt better. I stood at the kitchen window and watched her. A whole half hour went by until I went outside. Gosh, it was warm that afternoon—even for mid-September.
“Ruby Day, are you okay?” I knelt down next to her.
“No, Luna. I am not okay today. Two girls laughed at me when I dropped a can of pork and beans on my toe.”
“Pork and beans? Was it one them extra-big cans? Did you get hurt?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t look, because those girls made me cry, and I needed to hide my eyes.”
“Is that all that happened?”
“Uhm huh, except … except what Mr. Haskell said.”
“What did Mr. Haskell say?” I patted her back.
She yanked at a clump of brown grass and tossed it over her shoulder. “He said he was giving me more money in my paycheck.”
I smiled. “But that’s a good thing, Ruby Day. You’ll be making more money.”
Ruby Day started to shake her head in that wild way she had. Then she balled her hands into fists and punched her head like she was trying to kill her thoughts inside.
“Stop that,” I said with the same firmness my mama used with us kids. “Stop that this instant. There is nothing to be upset about.” Then I stopped because I remembered how I hated it when Daddy would tell me I had no reason to be upset. I certainly did have a reason on most occasions.
“I’m sorry. Tell me why it upsets you to have more money.”
“More to take care of, Luna. More to care about, and I don’t like caring about those things.”
I took her hands in mine and looked at her square in the face. “That’s why I’m here. To be next to you and help you.”
It took another minute or two, but Ruby Day settled down, and we went inside for corn and sliced ham.
The next morning I asked Mrs. Grady if I could talk to the class like I told Mama I wanted.
“Now why would you want to do such a thing?” She sat at her big oak desk and fiddled with pencils. “It’s your business isn’t it, Luna? Yours and your parents’.”
“Well, that’s just it. I had a talk with Mama yesterday while she was shucking corn, and that’s when the notion struck me to stand up in front and tell everybody. I figured it could maybe keep people from whispering about me and Ruby Day.”
Mrs. Grady shoved a pencil into her ratty nest of gray hair. “Go on, then. Say your piece, but don’t take too much time. We have a full schedule today.”
Mrs. Grady quieted everyone down, and I stood there with my back pressed against the blackboard. But my knees still knocked like two cymbals in a brass band. I thought for sure everyone could hear them.
“Now, class,” Mrs. Grady said. “Luna Gleason has something to say.”
I stared right at Francine, who was sitting all smug and tall. She wore a big red ribbon in her blonde hair that made me think of Christmas. I decided not to look at her as I spoke.
“I just wanted you all to know that I went to live with Ruby Day.” Some snickers wafted around the room, but I ignored them. “Because she needs me more than I need to be living at home right now. Mason—” I swallowed. “Mason died, and now she’s by herself, and Jesus said to help the widows and orphans, so that’s what I intend to do.”
Mrs. Grady stood up like she wanted me to sit down. But I stayed put and thought about my words some more.
“Sometimes a person has to follow Jesus—like the disciple fishermen.”
I swallowed and tried to hide my sweaty palms. “That’s all I got to say. Ruby Day needs me, and I would appreciate it if you all would stop calling her a retard or feebleminded. She didn’t choose to be born that way. Not like Francine chose to wear that … ostentatious bow this morning.” I liked to use big words like ostentatious and serendipity from time to time. It makes people think or even get out the dictionary.
Some of the kids laughed, and I will admit I enjoyed the moment before I sat down. I made sure I gave Francine a look.
“Thank you, Luna,” Mrs. Grady said. “Now please get out your geometry books and turn to page eighty-two. The isosceles triangle.”
CHAPTER 10
Things got better after that. Ruby Day and I got into a routine, and I even started visiting Mama less. Somehow, Ruby Day managed to get Mr. Haskell to hire Lavinia back, and that made Lavinia start treating her better.
“She even made me a liverwurst sandwich for lunch the other day,” Ruby Day said. “And she brought me a cream soda.”
I was so proud of Ruby Day, and I knew Mason would be proud too.
About the second week of October, Ruby Day decided she should walk to the cemetery. I went with her. We brought flowers from the garden, and Ruby Day placed them gently on Mason’s grave. We didn’t stay very long—just long enough to say hello.
I still missed Mason, but the longer I stayed with Ruby Day, the more I felt the good parts of Mason were around me. I will confess that I was starting to feel a little tired from all the extra work, though. Now don’t get me wrong, Mama and Daddy gave me chores, but when it came to cleaning up after Ruby Day—well, that was another story. She didn’t seem to care where she let her clothes drop or give a lick to hanging wet towels up. I even had to teach her the proper way to scrub a pot.
Ruby Day was just fine with rinsing and drying, she just needed to learn how to fill the sink and soap up the dishes and pots and rinse them well. But
we both agreed that drying was not always necessary.
Francine stopped bothering me at school, but Mrs. Grady kept giving me the stink eye. It was like she felt sorry for me or something. Every day it was the same question.
“How are you, Luna? How are you and Ruby Day getting along? Everything okay?”
I always said the same thing, “Yes, Ma’am, everything is fine.” Then she’d say, “I’m glad to see you keeping your grades up.”
And then I’d respond, “Yes, Ma’am. Daddy said he’d be watching on account of I still aim to go to college and become a teacher.”
It wasn’t the questions that bothered me as much as her tone. It was the same tone folks took with me right after Mason died. Mama called it “overblown concern,” but she also said that most of the time people meant well, and I should just be glad people cared.
“Because, Luna,” she said, “it’s a rare thing in life to know someone cares about you—really cares, and not just because they have to.”
One Saturday morning in late October there came a knock on the front door. Ruby Day was watching cartoons. She loved Bugs Bunny and the Roadrunner, and we enjoyed watching and laughing together as we ate bowls of cornflakes.
“Now who can that be?” I asked.
Ruby Day wasn’t paying attention to me or anything else but the television, so I set my bowl on the coffee table and went to the door. A tall, skinny woman wearing what I think were two dead foxes around her shoulders stood on the other side. The foxes were sewn together tail-to-tail and had little beady glass eyes. The woman had short hair and wore a gray hat with a long feather sticking out of it, as well as pointy glasses and pointy shoes to match her pointy nose.
“Good morning,” she said. She had the sound of a sophisticated lady from the city, like Mrs. Chalmers, the charm school woman, who came to school clear from Scranton to teach all the girls how to be polite in proper society and how to cross our legs at the ankles and the importance of proper posture.
She reached out her gloved hand. I didn’t know if I should shake it or kiss it. I squeezed it lightly.
“My name is Sapphire Whitaker. I am looking for Ruby Day.”
“Oh, Ruby Day. Yes, she’s right in here, watching cartoons and …”
The woman made a noise and pushed passed me.
“Ruby Day,” Sapphire called.
I pushed past her and went to Ruby Day, who was by then standing up and staring at the sophisticated lady. A cornflake hung at the corner of Ruby Day’s mouth.
“Just look at you,” Sapphire said. She pulled a turquoise hanky from her purse and wiped Ruby Day’s mouth. “I came as soon as I heard the news from Uncle Charles. He heard it from a Fuller Brush man who comes to this … this town now and again.”
I watched Ruby Day swallow. She balled her hands into tight fists like she was going to start pounding on something, but just as she brought them up to her temples she stopped. Like she had thought better of it.
“Ruby Day, do you know her?”
She nodded and tried to speak, but the woman spoke for her. “I am Ruby Day’s Aunt Sapphire from Philadelphia. Bryn Mawr, actually.” She pulled off her gloves and handed them to me. Then she turned around and let her foxes slip from her shoulders. I had no choice but to catch them like I was the maid or a fur trapper or something. I tossed the articles on a chair, and I think Sapphire would have exploded if Ruby Day hadn’t found her voice in time.
“How come you came here?” Ruby Day said. “I never told you to come.”
“Oh dear, where are your manners? Aren’t you going to invite me to sit?”
Ruby Day flopped down. Sapphire chose the overstuffed armchair. She grimaced when her hands touched the fabric.
“May I get you a drink?” I asked, not wanting to be pegged for not having any class.
“That would be fine, dear.”
“I can make coffee.”
“I’m certain you can.”
I headed for the kitchen wondering if I had just been complimented or insulted. And I didn’t know if I should make coffee or get a glass of water. The truth was I smelled a rat. A dirty, stinking, high-society rat, and I wanted to get to the kitchen to call Mama.
After I got coffee percolating, I set out three cups and saucers on a tray. I looked at the telephone on the wall and thought about calling Mama. I dialed home. One ring, two, three, but I hung up quickly. I had told Mama I could handle it and that meant everything—even Aunt Sapphire.
I returned to the living room and stood next to Ruby Day. “My name is Luna Gleason,” I said. “I’ve been helping out Ruby Day since the funeral and all.”
“How nice,” Sapphire said. “Fortunately you won’t be needing to … to help any longer. I’ve come to take Ruby Day home.”
Now I really wished Mama was home, and I sailed a silent wish that she would get one of her worry thoughts and come banging on the front door.
“Home?” I said. “But Ruby Day is home. Right here. In this house.”
I watched Ruby Day’s bottom lip start to quiver, and I worried that she’d throw off her glasses and start that shrieking thing she did. But instead I only saw three tears roll down her cheek. Sapphire wiped them with her high-society hanky.
“There, there, Ruby Day. It’s for the best.”
Ruby Day grabbed my hand and pulled me down onto the sofa next to her.
“I ain’t goin’, Aunt Sapphire. I got Luna here to help me and I got a job and—”
Sapphire clicked her mouth like it was a chicken beak. That was it. She looked like an overgrown chicken. I suppressed a smile. “Now, now, Ruby Day. That’s just it. Now that Mason is … well, no longer with us … there’s no reason for you to work and … keep this bright young woman with you. I’m sure she’s got future plans. Don’t you, dear?”
I nodded my head something fierce. “Yes, Ma’am, I’m planning on going to college and becoming a teacher. But that don’t mean I can’t still live here with Ruby Day. We’re fine—honest we are.”
That was when the doorbell rang, and I hoped with all my heart it was Mama.
Nope, just the paperboy. “Whose fancy car is that?” he asked.
“Just a visitor, Tom.” I reached into a cleaned-out peanut butter jar on the mantel that we dropped coins in every now and again and paid Tom a nickel for the paper.
“Thank you, Luna.” He craned his neck trying to get a good look into the living room, but I shooed him out the door. Rumors had a way of firestorming through Makeshift County, and I figured by the end of the day there’d be a story floating around about some visiting princess from a faraway land who drove a fancy car and wore dead foxes on her shoulders.
I got back to the sofa in time to hear Sapphire say, “Now you don’t have to leave today. Take two or three days, if you like, to pack and say your good-byes. I’ll be back Tuesday to take you home.”
“Where you going?” Ruby Day asked.
“Back to Bryn Mawr, of course. I’d return sooner but I have a … well, a thing at the Cricket Club.”
“Cricket Club,” I said. “You mean real crickets? The kind that chirp when they rub their legs together?”
Aunt Sapphire laughed like a fat man. “No, no, you dear child. The Cricket Club is … well a country club for—”
Obviously the humor was lost on Aunt Sapphire. “I get it. High society folk and all. You mean it’s a club for snobs.” I wanted to push the words back inside my mouth, but I didn’t. I really didn’t mean it to be sassy.
“We are not snobs, young lady. But you are correct about one thing. We are not … ordinary.”
She clicked her beak and turned her face away with a huff, and I figured I had just pretty much sealed the deal with Aunt Sapphire. There was no way now I was going to get her to like me.
And that was that. Sapphire stood and indicated to me to help her with her dead foxes. Once I did she sashayed out of the house, down the walk, and into her fancy car. I saw a man with a funny hat sitting behind the whe
el.
“Look at him,” I said. “He must be one of them chauffeurs. Imagine having someone drive you all over the place like that. Why, Daddy would have a conniption fit if anyone tried to drive for him.”
Ruby Day stood in the cold air on the porch hugging herself and crying.
“Come on inside, Ruby Day. It’s too cold out here. And why are you crying?”
She shook her head and kept on shaking like a dog after a good soaking. I tried to pull her inside, but Ruby Day could get mighty strong. It was like she had glued herself to that spot, and there she stood for a good fifteen or more minutes shaking and crying and shivering.
The coming of Aunt Sapphire was not good news.
CHAPTER 11
One of the things I learned from Mason was that when Ruby Day got into one of her stubborn jags, it was best to let her be until she worked it out. Mason told me that sometimes she would stand on the porch or in the kitchen or in her garden for more than an hour crying and shaking. I sincerely hoped that this was not one of those occasions.
I sat down on the porch swing and rocked slowly back and forth, back and forth, and that brought back a flood of memories that I wished I didn’t have. Mason and I used to sit on the swing and listen to his jazz records. He would turn it up loud inside the house so we could hear it on the porch.
“Now this,” he said one night, “is Charlie Parker.” He called him a genius on the saxophone. I liked Charlie Parker well enough. I liked the way the music would jiggle and bebop through the air and tickle my ears. But mostly I liked sitting with Mason. He told me all sorts of things about jazz and music. But never in all the time I knew him did Mason mention Aunt Sapphire.
It was nearly lunchtime before Ruby Day finally sobbed herself dry and went into the house. She plunked down on the sofa, exhausted. She took Mason’s picture from the side table and hugged it to her chest.
