Seasons of Her Life (60 page)

Calvin's voice was hushed and whispery as he identified himself. “I'm sorry to call collect, but I wanted to talk to you and there's no way I can get out at this time of night without Eve getting suspicious. As it is, she's been looking at me strangely all evening. I must be giving off something. I'll give you the money for the call when I see you.”

“I thought you said you didn't care about Eve, Calvin. What difference does it make if you make long distance calls or not? She doesn't know who I am. You really didn't have to make the call person to person, either. No one is here but me.”

“Listen, Ruby,” he whispered, “I thought we talked this through. You know I can't put these last months in jeopardy. For now, this is the best I can do.” His whispering made him hard to understand.

“You're going to have to talk louder, Calvin, I can't hear you,” Ruby complained.

“If I talk louder, Eve will hear me. Turn off your television set or turn the volume down,” Calvin said.

“I can't talk to you and enjoy our conversation if you're trying to ... if your wife is close by. I can see how the phone calls can add up, so why don't you find a phone booth somewhere, get the number, give it to me, and we'll take turns calling at an agreed time. What's wrong with getting a legal separation the way I did?”

“There's nothing wrong with it, but Eve won't do it. I told you about that religion thing.”

Ruby felt the beginnings of a headache. She'd looked forward to this call all day. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She should be feeling elated, loving. “I have a blinding headache,” she said. The blinding headache became a reality the moment the words were out of her mouth.

“You're unhappy with me, aren't you? You're having second thoughts. I'm picking up something in your voice,” Calvin whispered.

“No, Calvin, I'm not unhappy with you, but I am unhappy with your situation. I didn't think it would bother me, but it does. No, I'm not having second thoughts. How could I? I love you. I didn't plan this headache, it just happened. When will you call me again?”

“On Friday, when I leave the office. Five-thirty or so. Is that okay?” Ruby shook her head, them remembered he couldn't see her. She gritted her teeth. “I'll look forward to it, Calvin.”

“I should have my schedule set by then, so we can make some plans. I love you Ruby, I truly do. Dream about me, okay?”

“Okay,” Ruby whispered in return.

“What did you say? Why are
you
whispering?”

“So you'll know what it sounds like,” Ruby said. “Good-bye, Calvin.”

The first thing Ruby did after she dressed on the following morn
ing was to call the Mayo Clinic. It was still hard for her to accept that Dixie had just up and gone without telling anyone. She was probably scared to death and knew talking about her operation would only make her more anxious. Even so, Dixie simply didn't do things like that.

“Miss Baker? This is Ruby Blue, I'm calling for an update on my sister, Dixie Sinclaire,” Ruby said into the phone. She could hear the worry in her own voice.

“Mrs. Sinclaire's surgeon has scheduled surgery for eight
A.M.
tomorrow,” the young nurse said cheerily. “It's a very long operation, Mrs. Blue. You can call tomorrow evening. Ask to be put through to I.C.U.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Dixie must be frightened out of her wits, Ruby thought after she hung up. How could she go this alone? Ruby made her decision to fly to Minnesota in the time it took her heart to beat twice.

Ruby called Northwest Airlines, booked a seven
P.M.
flight to Minneapolis, where she would change planes for Rochester. “Your arrival time is eleven
P.M.
,” the reservation clerk said briskly.

Good. She could put in a full day at the office and leave for the airport at closing time.

 

Ruby stepped off the plane at Rochester Municipal Airport at eleven-fifteen. She had a sour stomach, a miserable headache, and she had to go to the bathroom.

She found a ladies' room, then went outside to look for the taxi stand. She thought she would die when the twenty-below temperature whacked her body.

The warm, steamy taxi felt like a sauna. “Take me to the nearest hotel or motel,” Ruby gasped.

“Won't do you any good,” the driver said, leaning over the backseat.

“Why? Please don't tell me there's a convention in town and all the hotels are booked. Please don't tell me that,” Ruby pleaded.

“Worse than that. You have to make reservations months in advance. Mayo Clinic patients and their families always have the rooms sewed up tight.”

“What do people do?” Ruby demanded irritably. Damn, why hadn't she thought about this?

“They look for boardinghouses, bed and breakfast inns.” He shrugged.

“Can you take me to one of those places?”

“Ain't any.”

“Then take me to the clinic. I'll stay in the waiting room.”

“Okay,” the driver muttered as he swung his hack onto the hard, crunchy snow. Ruby hated the snow, the cold, Minnesota, her fatigue, and the place the driver was taking her to.

The lobby of the clinic was warm, but not as warm as the taxi. Ruby sank down on one of the imitation leather chairs. She would not look at the other people, who were either talking in hushed tones or crying. She thought she heard someone say a Hail Mary as she closed her eyes. She fought the urge to tell the person to stop. When push came to shove, people always turned to prayer. If you do this for me, Lord, I swear I will never do another wrong thing in my life. Did they think God was stupid?

Her eyes still closed, Ruby searched her own life. So often she'd felt the presence of a higher power giving her direction and hope when she needed it. This higher power she called God. And at times, like now, she spoke to him, but not to ask for anything.

You don't owe me anything, she thought. It is I who owe you. She'd tried over the years to repay what she thought of as her emotional debt. She funded scholarships, corporate and personal. She donated to the poor, both corporately and personally. She donated huge sums of her own money to Greenpeace and to various animal shelters in the state. She'd personally seen to it that the newest batch of Quantrell orphans, as well as the earlier children, were provided with tuition for the colleges and universities of their choice. Just because Nola had turned her back on them didn't mean Ruby was going to do the same thing. She'd provided for Nola's parents, too, sending them a twelve-passenger Dodge van to transport all the children in. Twice a year she sent truckloads of toys, clothes, food, and bedding to three orphanages in New Jersey. And always, she sent huge monthly donations of money to St. Andrew's. She called every other week to speak with the new parish priest, who said he remembered her in his daily prayers. She always felt so good, so wonderful, so up and on top of things when she did something charitable. Maybe she should have done more, given more. Maybe she should have gone back to the Church. Maybemaybemaybe, she thought wearily. You couldn't second-guess God. If she hadn't done enough, he would let her know somehow.

She was so tired. Maybe she should go back to the desk and ask where Dixie's room was. Maybe they'd let her see her. In the middle of the night? Unlikely. Her eyes snapped open when she heard more than one voice say the words to the Hail Mary. Across from her was a family; at least they all looked alike. A mother, a father, and three children, all wide awake with rosaries in their hands. Their voices were soft, almost indistinct. She couldn't help but wonder who they were praying for. Someone who meant a lot to them. There were tears in the parents' eyes. She closed her own. She didn't want to know, didn't want to get involved in their grief. They looked poor, but neat and clean. That much she did notice.

Like it or not, she was going to hear all about it. The elderly couple sitting behind her were discussing the praying family with another couple sitting next to them. “They're the three oldest Denzel boys. Twelve, ten, and nine years of age. They were in the family barn with their grandfather. The two older boys were milking cows while the youngest was gathering eggs. The grandfather was forking hay into the stalls. A huge semi, one of those eighteen-wheel things, skidded around a curve and went out of control. It plowed across a snowy field and headed straight into the barn. They're all in critical condition. And no insurance,” the elderly woman said.

This sounded like one of those slim-to-none chances life doled out Ruby leapt off her chair as if she'd been stung by a bee. She walked aimlessly down one hall after another in search of a bathroom. She looked around the sterile whiteness, hoping to see a chair or stool. It was so quiet here. There was no stool or chair, just a huge trash can with a sloppy-looking plastic bag draped over the side. Ruby pulled out the bag, tied it into a knot, and upended the can. She sat there with her back against the white tile wall, smoking one cigarette after another until six o'clock.

She splashed water on her face, ran a comb through her hair, and brushed lint off her dark sweater before she slipped back into her coat.

She headed straight for the coffee shop, where she ordered breakfast. She wondered what the Denzels were going to do. Children were always hungry. Did they have money for breakfast, or would they go home? The food, when it came, looked appetizing, even tempting, but she couldn't eat. She nibbled on toast and drank coffee.

The shop was filling up. The elderly couple appeared first, and then some of the others she'd noticed when she bolted off the chair. She looked over her shoulder, through the glass partition. The Denzels were alone, huddled together. The two smallest children were on their parents' laps.

The poor were always so proud. How could she possibly offer them breakfast?

Ruby called the waitress over to her and spoke in low tones. The woman smiled and nodded. A bill changed hands.

It was a few minutes to seven when Ruby walked up to the nurses' station to inquire about Dixie.

“She's been sedated, and she's being prepped for surgery. I'm sorry, but you can't go in now. Are you a relative?”

The lie rolled off Ruby's tongue. “Yes, her sister.”

“Mrs. Sinclaire indicated no one from the family would be here,” the nurse said, puckering her mouth. “If I had known you were here, I would have told her.”

“I wasn't sure if I could make it,” Ruby said lamely.

“There's a waiting room down the hall with a television and magazines. We have a coffee shop on the first floor. It's a very long operation. I do wish you had come sooner. Mrs. Sinclaire was so frightened.”

“When they're done prepping her, can I see her? She might be ... she might ... or you tell her I'm here. Sedatives don't

... they won't knock her out completely ... it would mean so much to me ... to her.”

Ruby's heart fluttered in her chest as she watched conflicting emotions cross the nurse's face: the well-being of the patient, the rules, doctor's orders, the patient's wishes. The rules won out.

“I'll tell her you're here if she's awake. I'm sorry.”

Ruby waited while the nurse walked down the hallway in her soundless rubber-soled shoes. Nurses' uniforms didn't crackle with starch these days. They swished and clung with static.

Ruby wondered where the Denzel children and their grandfather were. She couldn't even begin to imagine what the family was going through. Did prayer help? “God, if I only knew,” she muttered.

The nurse was back, her face puzzled, the front of her uniform hiking up with static cling. There was something on the market for the condition, but for the life of her Ruby couldn't remember what it was. You sprayed it. Maybe she would tell the nurse to look for it. The thought popped out of her head. In the scheme of things, it wasn't up there with death and prayer.

“I'm sorry,” the round-faced nurse said. “For a few seconds I thought she was awake and understood me, but she's out. She muttered something about giving you her purse. Of course I can't do that. You understand?” Ruby nodded. “I don't seem to recall a purse when she checked in. Now, I wonder why that is.” The nurse was still talking to herself when Ruby turned to leave.

Ruby yelped in fright when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

He was tall, six-foot-four, pencil-thin. The battered Stetson pushed far back on his head allowed a nimbus of red-gold curls to dominate the long, angular face, covered by an army of freckles. He had compassionate, soft brown eyes. His eyelashes were thick and double-fringed. The slender body was cloaked in street garb, faded jeans, cowboy boots, and an oversized sweatshirt that had seen far too many washings and proclaimed him a member of the Harley-Davidson Club.

Until she saw his hands, Ruby wondered who the brash young man was. Then she knew. Beautiful hands with long, slender fingers, the nails clipped short. A piano player's hands or a surgeon's.

“Sorry,” the man said, stepping back, “I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Kyle Harvey, Mrs. Sinclaire's surgeon. Is your name Ruby Blue by any chance?” More than capable. His voice was deep with an underlying chuckle threatening to erupt at any moment.

“That's me. Yes, yes, I'm Ruby Blue. You don't look like a doctor. How old are you? Did you ever do an operation like this before? How long is the operation? Will Dixie be all right? You ... you look like Huckleberry Finn. Oh, God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I'm just nervous,” she twitted. “I didn't get much sleep. No hotel vacancies.”

“Let's see if I can answer in order. I'm thirty-six. I've done many operations like the one I'm going to do on Mrs. Sinclaire. Let's say ten, maybe twelve hours for the operation. I've got lots of degrees that say I'm capable of doing surgery, but I imagine the one you're most interested in is Mrs. Harvey's testimonial. My mother says I'm the best in my field. As for looking like old Huck, well, I'm flattered. I cut my teeth on Tom Sawyer. And although doctors, like lawyers, never commit, there's every reason to believe Mrs. Sinclaire will be fine after a period of recuperation.”

As long as it took to blink, Dr. Harvey whipped off the shirt he was wearing. Ruby stared at the paper stuck to his chest with adhesive tape.
IF ALL ELSE FAILS, I PROMISE TO READ THE INSTRUCTIONS.
Ruby burst into tearful laughter.

“I did it as a joke for Mrs. Sinclaire. She laughed. I mean, she really laughed. She was scared out of her wits. I wanted her to drift into sleep with a smile. That's what's important to me. I hope you understand.” Ruby nodded. “She had herself worked up pretty good until the nurse came in and said you were here. Then she calmed right down. Nurse Adderly won't take responsibility for handing over the purse, so I have to sign it out for you. Dixie made me promise to give it to you. All we have to do is find it. Hey, you aren't going to cave in on me, are you?”

“Probably,” Ruby sniffled.

“Atta girl.” The doctor grinned. “If you'd said anything else, I'd have committed you. Now, let's find that purse, so when Dixie comes out of recovery I can tell her I gave it to you. It will be the first thing she says because it was the last thing she thought about before conking out.”

Ruby was aware of nurses scurrying to and fro as they searched for Dixie's handbag. The doctor beamed with pride when he handed it over. “We can do anything around here when we put our minds to it. Why don't you go down to the waiting room. I'll find you when it's all over. Curl up on the sofa and take a nap. I slept for two full days so I'd be rested up to do this.” He grinned.

“I'm glad you're here. Dixie needs someone. Yesterday I asked her to call you, and do you know what she said?” Ruby shook her head. “She said you'd be here; she didn't have to call you. I sensed she didn't believe her own words, that it was more a wish than anything else, but here you are.”

“Dr. Harvey?” It was the doctor who turned this time, the soft brown eyes full of worry he hadn't had time to mask. “The Denzel family ... I saw ... how, how are the children? Do you know?”

“Sometimes, Ruby Blue,” he said, laying his hand on her shoulder, “we get a miracle around here. In this instance, we need four of them.” All signs of humor were gone, to be replaced with a hopeless look of inadequacy.