The Bird Saviors (23 page)

    I have a daughter, remember? says Ruby. I told Mom I'd pick her up by five at the latest. I don't have time for this.

    Ward sighs and asks her to come inside and give him a minute to get ready.

    I'll stand out here, says Ruby.

    After he gets his keys and wallet they walk down the stairway to the parking lot, Tejano music blaring from one of the motel rooms. The heat envelops them, makes them sweat. As they climb into the hot car Ruby puts her hand to her forehead and says, O, Jesus. I feel like I'm going to faint.

    Ward rolls down the windows and turns the a/c on high, tells her he'll roll them up once they get the hot air out of the car.

    That's okay, says Ruby. I'll be dead by then.

    They head south on Elizabeth Street. Ruby stares out the window at the stucco houses with neat yards and flower gardens. Pueblo is half pretty and half ugly. Nice houses with colorful flower gardens on one block, and a mile later the freight yards of the old rail lines, and beyond that the pawnshops, liquor stores, and massage parlors. Their route to her home takes them through this devolution. Ruby doesn't say a word once the car cools off. Ward frowns and pretends to concentrate on his driving. She can tell she's gotten under his skin.

    After a few minutes Ruby says, Who was that on the phone?

    My sister- in- law. She's living in my house back in Houston. She wants me to pay the electric bill but she must be running the a/c constantly because it's over six hundred dollars for August. I don't know what to do. I guess I have to pay it, but I wish she'd leave.

    Ruby makes a face. And why is your sister- in- law living at your house?

    She lost hers. The bank took it back. Plus she used to work for me. She was my assistant, I guess you'd say. At least that's what she called herself. But she didn't work much. So she didn't really assist me in anything.

    Like I'm your assistant?

    Well, no. I mean, I hired her when she was being laid off from her computer job. That was a year ago and it didn't work out. I still felt bad about it and she's still out of work. So when I left I told her she could stay in the house as long as she liked.

    How male of you.

    Ruby? Come on. The woman is out of work. All her family have passed away and she has nobody to help her out. I'm just doing what's right.

    So how many other assistants do you have? One in every state?

    Ruby.

    It makes me feel real good, that it does. When you leave will you let me stay in your room here at the Buffalo Head? I'm sure Lila would love crawling around on the crappy carpet. I mean, free HBO. What more could we want?

    Nisha doesn't mean anything to me. I wish she'd leave, but I don't mind helping her out. It's the right thing to do.

    You're probably telling her the same thing about me.

    Oh, Ruby. Come on. She's just an insecure, down- and- out person who needs some help.

    Sounds like me. We should start a club.

    She's nothing like you.

    Right. Nisha. What kind of name is that, anyway?

    I told you. Her family came from India.

    Oh, right. But then they moved back.

    Well, yes. Her parents did.

    That's funny. People are leaving America for India now.

    Ward shrugs. This won't last forever.

    I hope not, says Ruby. She points at the parking lot of her mother's apartment complex. I hope Lila napped today. She won't sleep lately and it wears me out. She tosses and turns in the bed all night long.

    Ward pulls into a parking space and leaves the engine running. Can I call you later?

    No, says Ruby. She gets out of the car but before she shuts the door, she leans in and says, Well, if you want to. I'll be home.

. . .

A  s h i n y  b l a c k  pickup appears in the driveway like a country- western hearse. A locomotive of dirt-road dust surrounds it in a redbrick glow. Ruby is washing dishes and when she turns to look out the window there it is. She and Lord God head to the porch. She puts on a face like a plaster mask. Be polite. Show no emotion. Get through this.

    A man gets out wearing a white cowboy hat. He walks with a cocky strut like he owns a small- town casino with sixteen slot machines and a bouncer with a mean streak. Ruby thinks he looks like somebody's rich uncle. White- haired and well fed. His belly pooches taut above his belt buckle.

    Good afternoon, Reverend Cole, says the visitor, his voice deep and smooth as chocolate pudding. He nods and spreads a smile Ruby's way, holds out his right hand and says, I don't believe we've met. I go by the name of Hiram Page.

    Ruby shakes his hand and feels the strength of muscle and bone pulling her toward him almost imperceptibly. I've seen you at church, she says. Nice to meet you.

    Lord God stands rigid and unsmiling. Take a seat, Mr. Page, he says, indicating the old sofa on the porch.

    Hiram thanks him kindly and sits down with a burst of dying energy, revved up in the wrong gear and with the desert sunlight streaking in bands of God's light behind him, Ruby watches a light cloud of dust rise and float above his cowboy hat like a cartoon speech bubble. Lord God eases himself down onto the wooden bench beside the sofa.

Here, says Ruby, let me take your hat.

    No, thank you, darlin'. He removes his hat and smooths back his white hair, slaps it against his leg. I'll keep ahold of it in case we take a walk and I need to keep the sun out of my eyes.

    Can I get you something to drink? she asks.

    Oh, I'm fine, says Hiram Page.

    A glass of iced tea maybe?

    Well, now, you're sweet- talking me. I think that would hit the spot.

    Papa?

    Nothing for me, says Lord God.

    In the house, Ruby gets glasses from the cupboard, opens the refrigerator, and listens. Hiram Page asks Lord God how he's been feeling lately, if the leg has been bothering him. Lila is in her playpen in the kitchen, spinning a Winnie- the- Pooh mobile over her head. Ruby tousles her hair and reaches down to check her diaper. She hears her father say, I've been out of sorts lately, Mr. Page. If it's not this leg it's the drought, how dry everything is, all the dust in the air. It's like living in an hourglass is what it is.

    It'll break soon, says Hiram Page. The Wet Mountains had a good rain just last week. Not enough but it's something.

    She returns to the porch and hands Hiram Page the glass. I put some sugar in it, she adds. I hope you like it.

    I do have a sweet tooth, he says. Hiram smiles and looks down at his boots. I assume your father told you why I'm coming here, didn't he?

    My father mentioned you'd be coming for a visit. But he doesn't tell me much.

    A wise man is closemouthed by nature. But here's what I'm thinking. What I'd like to do is take you to dinner. No strings attached. Someplace nice and cozy. You wouldn't be averse to that, would you? I imagine it would be a relief, not to have to cook dinner one night?

    Ruby nods. I could do that. I'd have to get someone to watch Lila.

    You know I will, says Lord God. I always do.

    A pretty girl like you deserves to be spoiled, adds Hiram. Raising a child all alone must be hard work.

    It is, she says. But Papa helps. And Mom does too. I'm not all alone.

    I know that. You're in good hands. Why, your father's a hero. He fought in the war and protected our way of life.

    That's one way to put it, says Lord God. Way of life? I guess. All I know is I lost a leg over there.

    God bless, says Hiram. A good man defends his country when he's called.

    I risked everything is what I did. And this is what it got me. Lord God pulls up his pants leg to display the working end of his prosthetic limb. I say I don't regret it but I do. Others don't give a fig.

    Some do, says Hiram. The good ones do.

    Maybe, says Lord God. But most of the others just want to get drunk or watch TV or cavort in a swimming pool somewhere in California. And be disappointed if they can't.

    I hear you talking, says Hiram.

    The country's gone to hell and enjoyed the fast ride, far as I see it.

    I've given some thought and you know what's the heart of the problem? Fat- cat bankers in New York City. Somehow the whole country got turned the wrong way by that crowd in New York and now we've pledged the good blood of our young men to protect a handful of kooks and money- grubbers in Israel. It's the parable of the moneylenders all over again. It ain't right but there's not much fixing it.

    Lord God rearranges his pants cuffs to cover his metal leg. That's one way of looking at it.

    And now the illegals are taking over our neck of the woods. Or want to. But I've pledged my blood to stop them. The only way it will happen is over my dead body. And there's others just like me who have guns and will to boot.

    In the kitchen Lila starts to cry. To Ruby the sound is plaintive, faint and beautiful. She hears in it relief and knows it as the only reason to wash the dishes, to wake in the morning. The only reason to listen to these two men without screaming.

    She stands and pushes her hair out of her face. I better go, she says. I think my girl needs a bottle.

    I'll come see, says Hiram. I love babies. Treasure from the Lord, you know?

    In the dusty living room, with its Goodwill Industries furniture and scattered toys, Hiram Page pauses and looks around. He stands there with his ridiculous cowboy hat in hand. He says they have a fine home here and should be proud.

    Hiram lifts Lila and holds her up to his face. Her crying hits a higher note. Her skin's so pretty, says Page. Her father of Spanish blood?

Ruby nods. His last name was Hermosilla.

    Lord God rubs his good knee and frowns. He's a high school boy with no more brains than a piñata. He left you and he left his daughter and I don't want to hear any more about him.

    You scared him off, she says.

    Now, let's play nice, says Hiram. I wasn't trying to stir the pot.

    It's our business, says Lord God, not yours.

    Hiram strokes Lila's cheek and bounces her. She's just a little tanned, isn't she? Nothing wrong with that. I dated a mixed woman once. She was so pale- skinned you wouldn't know she was half blood. Looked as white as me. But I didn't hold it against her.

    Hiram smiles as he says this and stares into Lila's dark brown eyes like she's his date to a picture show.

    Ruby takes Lila from his arms and pulls her to her chest. You didn't hold it against her? Why would you?

    You forgave her for who she was, says Lord God. Is that what you're saying? Did her a favor?

    She didn't have a choice, says Page. She was born that way. Same as your daughter here.

    How kind of you, says Ruby. I'm glad you can be so forgiving.

    Now, Ruby, says Lord God. I don't believe Mr. Page meant anything by that.

    No, I'm sure he didn't. Ruby tosses back her hair and picks up Lila. It's just the way of the world, isn't it? She nods at Hiram Page and takes a step away. I think baby girl here has a wet diaper and I've got some wash to do, so I better get to it. It's a pleasure meeting you, sir.

    Oh, please call me Hiram. He reaches out to shake her hand but she motions with her chin, indicating her hands are full. He smiles at her and adds, The pleasure's all mine.

    Lord God stands. Mr. Page, I'll show you outside.

    Are we done already? asks Hiram. His smile is forced. Oh, I suppose you two have work to do.

    Ruby turns away without a word and carries Lila down the hall. Lila starts to cry, opening her mouth wide. Oh, baby, says Ruby. You're hungry, aren't you? There, there. What about I get you some milk and cookies?

    She puts Lila on the floor in her room and strokes her curly black hair. She hurries to the kitchen and fills a sippy cup with milk. The wind whistles through a crack in the windowpane. She inhales deeply and stares out at the tan fields of prairie beyond the crooked fence that marks the end of their backyard. Buzzards trace a circle in the blue sky above. When she returns to the bedroom, Lila has a polka- dotted horse in her hands, saying, Horsey, horsey.

    Okay, baby girl. Here you go, says Ruby.

    Lila takes the sippy cup and says, Thank you, in a faint voice. She sits against a pillow on the bed and grabs a chocolate- chip cookie with her free hand.

On the front porch Hiram Page shakes Lord God's hand. We'll have to meet again, Mr. Cole.

    Lord God walks to the edge of the porch and says, We could do that.

    Hiram pauses. You think I have any chance here? he asks. He squints in the bright sunlight, turning his hat in his hands, holding it by the brim. The hat is so clean it looks like a stage prop.

    The moment stretches thin. Lord God's face does not react. It's not for me to say. I'll talk to Ruby and get back to you. The best I can do.

    Okay, then. Hiram smiles and shakes his hand again. I can ask for no better than that.

    Lord God wobbles slightly in the wind at the edge of the porch. She's a young thing with pride and honor and dignity, he adds. She needs a good man. I know that.

    She needs someone who can care for her and that child too, says Hiram. I'd be glad to do that, Reverend Cole. Honest.