Seasons of Her Life (63 page)

“I guess Nangi explained what happened.”

“Yes, and I'm sorry. I wish there were something I could do for you. Why wouldn't you take my calls, Ruby? What did I do?” Calvin asked miserably.

“I'll explain it all when I see you, Calvin,” Ruby said wearily, “but I'm not sure I can accept your reason for not going with me to Saipan as we agreed.”

“I couldn't. There was ... Eve . . . I'm sorry, Ruby. I told Eve I planned on staying two weeks. I have to start looking for a job. She's on my case.”

Ruby felt her back stiffen. “Please,” she muttered, “make it right. If you must tell me about Eve, tell me you're leaving her.”

“I want to see you so desperately. I know you've been upset with me. We need to talk ... I need to talk to you. If we don't sit down and discuss all this, things are going to go from bad to worse, and we'll be lost to one another.”

“This is September, Calvin. You told me you were going to get a divorce when you got out of the service. Have you filed for one?”

“That's what we have to talk about, Ruby. Look,” he said, his voice desperate, “you're running up your bill. It's outrageous how much it costs to call over here.”

“You never worried about my bill before. Why are you worrying about it now?”

“Ruby, please . . . let's wait and discuss this in person. Right now you're upset with your father's death, and I understand that.”

“I'm not upset, Calvin. How's Nangi? Do you by any chance know what time Amber's plane gets in?”

“I have it right here. If there are no delays, she should arrive in Fort Lauderdale at ten o'clock, your time, tomorrow. I miss you, Ruby. I sent you something via Amber. I hope you like it. I can't wait to see you. I've thought about nothing else. God, Ruby, if you only knew how much I love you.”

Ruby smiled, for the first time in weeks. “I needed to hear that, Calvin. I love you, too, very much. I'll think about you when I fall asleep, and I'll dream about you all night.”

“Bye, Ruby.”

“Bye, Calvin.”

She didn't think about Calvin, and she didn't dream about him, either. She dreamed about her mother taking her on a picnic under the plum tree in the backyard. Her mother was holding a buttercup under her chin and tickling her, telling her she was pretty as a picture, calling her her precious little Ruby. In her dream she was smiling and giggling. So was her mother . . . until a dark shadow loomed overhead.

Ruby thrashed about, kicking at her covers, her arms swinging upward to cover her face. She woke, drenched in perspiration. The green numerals on her travel alarm said it was twenty minutes past three. “Damn.” She hated dreams like this; they always ended at a crucial moment. She'd had hundreds of them, maybe thousands. Some she remembered, others she forgot on awakening. She'd had this one before, many times. She didn't need a dream book to tell her what the dark, looming shadow was—it was her father, and he must have done something so horrible, so terrible, she'd blocked it out The part with her mother, well, that was wishful thinking on her part. What child didn't want to picnic with its mother using a tea set, a tin tea set with little flowers. A tea set with a real teakettle and tiny little spoons.

Just another bad dream.

It was raining when Ruby woke again at seven-thirty. She'd hoped for sunshine, since she knew the day wasn't going to be a good one. Not with Amber arriving full of . . . what, she didn't know. In her gut she knew Martha was going to be a problem if Andy couldn't head her off. She didn't know the why of that, either; it was just something she felt.

She pressed her face to the wide pane of glass. It must have rained all night the way the cars were sloshing through huge puddles. There was no one on the beach. She could see heavy fog rolling inward. She backed away from the window. The raindrops reminded her of tears. Hers. She turned on all four lights in the motel room. She had to remember to book rooms for Martha and Andy. Amber would stay at the house.

As Ruby stood under the pelting shower, she wondered if she should call Opal and try to convince her to come to Florida. Opal had showed such promise. She'd changed so much, she felt she hardly knew her at all. A party girl obsessed with travel, keeping up appearances, and buying all the latest fashions. Once she'd thought Opal the healthiest, mentally, of the three of them, but not anymore. Now she knew Opal was sick, maybe the sickest of the three of them. It was sad, sad for Opal and sad for her. She wanted a sister so desperately. Shame filled her when she realized she'd tried to buy Opal's affection, first with the down payment for her house, the birthday gift of a new car, other handsome gifts for Christmas, and other birthdays. It wasn't that Opal wasn't appreciative; she was, she called and gushed all over the place. What she didn't do was visit or ask Ruby to visit. She never called unless there was a reason, such as to borrow money she would never pay back. She never wrote and she always forgot Ruby's birthday, although she usually sent Christmas cards from places like Bangkok, Singapore, Hong Kong, or Japan that arrived around Eastertime. She'd never sent a present of any kind. The hell with it, let Amber handle Opal; she was, after all, the oldest, as she was fond of pointing out to anyone interested enough to listen.

Ruby stepped from the tub and patted herself dry.

At eight-thirty she was sitting in the motel's restaurant, eating a breakfast she didn't want. She couldn't remember if she was supposed to call her mother or if her mother was going to call her. It didn't matter, she'd take a taxi to Sunrise. If she was careful and paid attention to the clock, she could time her arrival to coincide with her children's.

At nine-fifteen Ruby left the restaurant. She returned to her room to add fresh lipstick, use the bathroom, and brush her teeth. She arrived at Sunrise ten minutes ahead of her daughter. It wasn't until she was sitting at the kitchen table that she remembered she was going to rent a car and pick up Amber. She shrugged. Amber would just have to find her own way.

“Mom, I hope you aren't frying that bacon for me. I already ate.”

“The children might want to eat when they get here. No, I wasn't making it for you,” she added as an afterthought.

Ruby wanted to say something, to cut to the quick. “I had an awful dream last night,” she blurted out. “I've had it before, often. Do you dream, Mom?”

“No. It's a waste of time.”

Ruby's eyebrows shot upward. She decided not to comment.

“Did we ever have a picnic under the old plum tree? In my dream I had a tin tea set with little flowers on it and it had a teakettle.” Ruby saw her mother's shoulders twitch. Her eyes narrowed. “Did we, Mom?”

“Once. I made little sandwiches to fit on the tiny plates. We had real tea in the pot. Yes, it had flowers on it. Your uncle John gave you the tea set for your birthday. I think your Bubba bought it for him to give you. It had spoons, too.”

“In the dream we were laughing. You had a buttercup under my chin. You said I was pretty like the flower and I was your precious little Ruby,” Ruby said in a choked voice.

“You were so pretty and you were my precious little Ruby,” Irma said, wiping her hands on her apron.

Ruby was on her third cup of coffee when her daughter arrived. She sat in stunned surprise as her mother and Martha talked as though they'd known each other all their lives. Her jaw dropped when she listened to her mother recite a litany of Martha's growing-up years, right down to her very first pimple. Martha's eyes glowed. Ruby wanted to slap her.

Andy was next. He dived into his breakfast, specially prepared by his grandmother, his eyes wide and wondering as his grandmother referred to his first skinned knee, his first date, and the first fish he'd caught. He pushed his plate away, asked for a second glass of orange juice, and leaned back in his chair. He beamed with pleasure until he saw his mother's tight face. His chair righted itself almost immediately. It wasn't just his mother's tight expression that made it so tense in the room; Marty's speculative looks at her mother predicted trouble.

“I think I'll take a walk around the block and work off that breakfast. It was good, Grandma.”

“She's had a lot of practice cooking huge meals,” Ruby said tightly.

“I think I'll join you, Andy. I don't ever remember you eating such an enormous breakfast.” Marty shot her mother a suspicious look as she followed her brother out the kitchen door.

Amber was the next to arrive, Opal right behind her.

“Look who I ran into at the airport,” Amber said, pointing to Opal. “Hiiii, Mom,” Amber said happily. “How are you? Gee, it's good to see you again.” She wrapped her mother in her arms, laying her head on her shoulder.

She looks as if she's in ecstasy, Ruby thought. Opal followed suit, hugging and kissing both her sister and mother. She waved to Ruby.

“What time is the wake?” Amber asked. “Are we chipping in for flowers, Mass cards, or what? Is everything taken care of, or did you wait for me to do it, since I'm the oldest?”

“Mom took care of it,” Ruby said.

Opal poured a cup of coffee. “What time is the funeral? I have to go to a ... I have a commitment tomorrow evening.”

Irma bustled about the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator. “I don't know what to make for lunch.” She fretted. “I think I'll make a turkey for dinner. It's thawing. A real nice dinner for the children.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were bringing your kids?” Amber hissed. “I could have brought mine.”

Same old Amber. She'd hoped their cordial relationship would continue. She should have known better. Ruby could feel the anger start to build. “This isn't exactly a social event. Why should I have to tell you to bring your kids? You're their mother. My kids made their own decision to come here.”

“The wake is at seven o'clock. The funeral is at nine. Do any of you object to that?” Irma asked as she piled vegetables on the counter. No one answered.

“Did Pop leave a will?” Opal asked.

“My goodness, I don't know. Carrots or peas?” When there was no response, she shoved the carrots back in the refrigerator.

“Well, what about his life insurance?” Opal persisted.

“I don't know anything about it.” The carrots were back on the counter. “Green peas and carrots make a nice contrast. We'll have both.”

“Would you girls like to discuss your father?” Irma asked. “I think I'll go out on the patio and drink my coffee. This way you can say whatever you want, and I won't be able to hear you. I think that's fair, don't you?”

No, it isn't fair! Ruby wanted to scream, but she didn't.

“You,” Ruby said, jabbing her finger in Opal's direction, “have about as much finesse as a bull in a china shop. For God's sake, he isn't even in the ground yet.” She jabbed again. “You're the oldest, straighten her out!” she snapped at Amber.

“Why?” Amber asked blandly. “I'd kind of like to know myself. Just because you have money to burn doesn't mean we do.”

Ruby snorted. “Money has nothing to do with this. Lower your voices. She can hear you out there. Listen, Mom is ... she's acting strange. We have to decide what we're going to do

... leave her here living alone or what. I mean, suppose she has Alzheimer's or something.”

“I don't have any extra room, if that's what you're leading up to,” Opal said sourly. “If you think she's losing it, you take her. If I take her, that means I have to take Mac's father, and he wets himself and stinks up the whole house.”

“Is there anything to drink around here?”

“I'm willing to take Mom if she wants to come to Saipan,” Amber said generously, “but you'll both have to kick in financially. When we sell this house and divide it up, we can all kick in. I don't think she should be alone. She's always had Pop. What's she going to do, get a job?” The look on Amber's face said that was just too ludicrous for words. “She doesn't look like she has . . . what you said.”

“I'll take her, and it won't cost either one of you a cent,” Ruby said quietly. “I don't think she'll come, though. I asked her back in January and she said no. I offered her the condo in Maui and she didn't want that, either. As far as I'm concerned, she can live here as long as she likes, and if she gets to the point where she can't take care of herself, then we can get a companion or a nurse. It's important for older people to be independent.”

“I'm not paying for a nurse. I don't have that kind of money,” Opal said coldly.

“You keep saying that, Opal, but I happen to know what an aviator makes and I know Mac's rank. You aren't hurting for money.”

“It costs a fortune to live in California,” Opal whined. “You all know we live beyond our means. I say we sell the house and let Ruby take Mom. It's settled as far as I'm concerned,” she said jerkily.

Ruby took a deep breath. “Yesterday you said you weren't coming to the funeral, and yet here you are. I want to know why. What made you change your mind?”

“Well, Miss Moneybags Sugar, I didn't want to be aced out. I wanted to see with my own eyes that the bastard is really dead. I want what's coming to me, that's what I want. Pop made a will, I know he did. I want my share.”

“Share of what?” Ruby demanded.

“This house, whatever he has in the bank, his insurance. It should be a tidy little sum. You certainly don't need it, so why don't you diwy up your share with me and Amber. It's a payback for our miserable childhood.”