Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Page 20

  With all my love,

  Mary

  I folded the letter back in its envelope, took the bundle of letters over to the closet, and put them at the bottom of my rucksack. That was where they would have to stay. There was no way to make Mary understand. There was too much at stake. I’d already been responsible for so many deaths. I couldn’t be responsible for Ruby’s too.

  I closed the closet door just as Ruby came into the room. She smiled at me, uncovering her head and laying the scarf on the bed. “How was your day?” she asked.

  “Not so good. Same as the day before. And the day before that.”

  She came over to me and slid her arms around my waist, stretching up on her tiptoes to kiss me. “Something will come along. We just have to be patient.”

  I let the warmth of her spread through me, and I kissed her in return. I had no desire to talk. I needed to work off my anxiety. “How long do we have before supper?” I asked.

  “About fifteen minutes or so.”

  “And where’s Hope?”

  “Downstairs playing with Mr. Sawyer in his study.”

  I pulled her tight against me, and kissed her neck as I moved her to the bed. I shut out all thoughts of jobs and nonexistent houses, of family and Alabama. I didn’t need to return to Hanceville in order to find myself. I only needed to hold Ruby in my arms.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ruby

  August 6, 1945

  Houston, Texas

  Matthew grew more and more restless as the days passed with no job prospects and no home for us to move into. Seemed like the more I tried to reassure him, the tenser he became. And even though I didn’t say anything out loud, I knew in my heart that God was working on him, preparing him to accept the path that would lead us back to Alabama, and to our salvation.

  I prayed every morning and every night that God would open Matthew’s heart. I prayed for strength to follow God’s path, even when I was afraid. I thought back on all the times God had called me to a place of great danger, to serve others in need, and how He’d protected and sustained me through those times. I needed to hang on to those memories with all my might, ’cause I knew when the time came, fear would shake my faith.

  The first week of August brought a welcome distraction from our anxieties. Jillian had received word that George was coming home from Europe. This brought on a great flurry of excitement in the Sawyers’ home. Even Matthew seemed pleased once he learned that George’s return meant Jillian and the baby would be moving back across town to their apartment.

  Mr. Sawyer picked George up from the train station on Sunday, and on Monday we celebrated like it was Christmas. George doted on Jillian and the baby, unable to contain his pride. It took some convincing to get Matthew to forgo job and house hunting for a day, but he eventually gave in. Mr. Sawyer grilled hamburgers and hotdogs, while Jillian and I helped Mrs. Sawyer with all the fixin’s. It was quite a spread!

  Once things were taken care of in the kitchen, I sat on the back deck, watching Hope play and listening to the radio we’d set up. Matthew and I had found a small skin horse in a little shop a few days prior. It looked almost exactly like the old skin horse in The Velveteen Rabbit, and Hope had been beside herself when we gave it to her. She’d even given Matthew a hug—a major step forward given that she’d done all she could to avoid him since his nightmare.

  Hope lay on her stomach in the grass just below the deck where I sat. She manipulated Velveteen and Skin Horse as they spoke to each other. “What is weal?” Hope said, bobbing the rabbit’s little head.

  “When somebody loves you a loooonnngg time,” said Skin Horse.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Sometimes. But dat’s ahwight. You don’t mind much.”

  I couldn’t help but smile as she acted out the scene, amazed she knew it so well. Though I shouldn’t be surprised since she must have heard it a thousand times.

  “See?” Hope said, turning Skin Horse sideways. “You hafta be loved for a long time, so your hair falls out, and your eyes get woose, and you get wough spots. But it doesn’t matter ’cause you can’t be ugly anymore when you’re weal.”

  “Are you weal?” the bunny asked with amazement.

  “Uh huh.” She turned Skin Horse back to face Velveteen, bringing them close together and lowering her voice to a near whisper. “The boy’s uncle made me weal a long time ago. And once you’re weal, it lasts forever.”

  “Oh, dat sounds nice! I wish I was weal.”

  “Don’t worry, Belteen. Hope loves you. She will make you weal.”

  My heart swelled listening to such gentle love pouring out of her. I knew I didn’t deserve her, and yet I was so grateful for her. I looked over at Matthew on the other side of the yard. He caught the football George had just thrown at him, clutched it near his head, and threw it back. I was doubly blessed for sure.

  I stood and walked to the other side of the deck, leaning onto the railing and looking down at Matthew. He smiled up at me before turning his attention to another pass from George.

  “You have a nice arm,” George said. “You play in high school?”

  Matthew threw the ball back and shrugged. “A little.”

  “He’s being modest,” I called to George as he caught the ball. “He played at Alabama for a little while.”

  George dropped the ball to his side, and his eyes widened. “Really? You played at Alabama?”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Matthew said. “I walked on for a few weeks and practiced with the team when I was a freshman. Never saw the field, though.”

  “Still, that’s impressive.” George threw the ball again.

  “They were taking just about anybody. Besides, I had to quit the team and focus on my grades.”

  Mr. Sawyer turned from the grill and watched them pass a few more times. “Looks like Bama will be a strong team again this year,” he said. “But I think my Longhorns will be better.”

  George tossed the ball at Mr. Sawyer. “Look out, old man!”

  Mr. Sawyer caught the ball with ease, winking at Matthew. “George hates the Longhorns. Poor kid grew up with a father who went to A & M. Never stood a chance.”

  Matthew laughed. A real laugh that sounded just like the old Matthew I knew when I was young. He looked happy and relaxed, and I thanked the Lord for giving him these moments of peace and joy. I prayed they would bloom to even more moments, and that soon the pain of the past would be a distant memory. The three men threw the ball around a little longer before Mr. Sawyer went back to the grill.

  “Want a drink?” George asked, setting the ball down and trotting up the steps of the deck.

  “Sure,” Matthew called back.

  George smiled at me as he passed by, his deep dimples creasing his cheeks. He stopped near the door where Jillian sat rocking George, Jr. and leaned down to give her a kiss, asking if she wanted anything from inside.

  She beamed at him. “Some lemonade would be nice.”

  George glanced over at me as he pulled open the back door. “Grace, would you like some too?”

  “Why, that would be lovely, thank you.”

  “Coming right up.”

  I marveled at how happy George seemed, especially in contrast to Matthew’s solemn disposition when he’d first returned. Had their experiences been so different? I wasn’t exactly sure what George had done in Europe, but from what Jillian had told me, his letters had mentioned missions. He had to have been in combat.

  Matthew came up behind me and slid his arm over my shoulder. He leaned toward me and spoke into my ear. “You having a good time?”

  “Yes,” I replied. But the scent of alcohol on his breath hit me at the same time. My optimism faltered. No wonder he seemed more relaxed. As much as I hated the idea of him drinking, I decided that having the old Matthew back was enough for the time being.

  He kissed my forehead and walked across the deck to where Hope was still playing with her toys. “How’s Velveteen and Skin Horse ge
tting along?” he asked.

  “Great!” Hope answered, her distrust all forgotten. “Do you want to play too?”

  “Absolutely!” He went down the steps and lay down in the grass next to her.

  She handed him the skin horse. “You be Skin Horse.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  By this time I’d crossed the deck and was watching from above them. “Of course he has a name,” Hope said with a giggle. “It’s Skin Horse!”

  “Oh!” Matthew said, glancing up at me and winking. My stomach did the same flip it used to do when I was a young girl, and he’d smile at me while we worked in the soup kitchen.

  Just then, Mrs. Sawyer and George came out of the back door carrying plates of food. “Dinner’s ready,” she called. “I hope you have those hamburgers and hot dogs ready!”

  Mr. Sawyer came up the steps carrying a large plate of patties and hot dogs. “Don’t start yapping at me. I got ’em right here.”

  I turned back to Hope and Matthew. “Come on, you two. It’s time to eat.”

  Matthew jumped up and held out a hand to Hope. “Come on, honey bunny.”

  She giggled and took his hand, popping up as he pulled her and lifting her arms to him. “Cawwy me?”

  Matthew stared down at her for a moment, an easy smile spreading over his features. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her up the steps, placed her in the high chair on my right and took the chair on my left. Mrs. Sawyer took George, Jr. over to the playpen and set him inside. We all filled our plates.

  After Mr. Sawyer blessed the food, we dug in. I noticed Matthew was drinking another beer with his meal, which made me uneasy. But George was drinking one too. I had to wonder if his happiness was as fragile as Matthew’s; a cover-up for the turmoil simmering beneath the surface.

  I forced myself not to dwell on those thoughts. I listened as Mr. Sawyer, George, and Matthew continued to talk football. I cut up carrots for Hope, and shared baby stories with Jillian and Mrs. Sawyer. It was a perfect day. I should’ve known it couldn’t last. After all, I was still Grace Doyle to the Sawyers. I was still living a lie. But those few hours of joy were precious oxygen to my spirit, and by all appearances, to Matthew’s as well.

  Near the end of our meal, during a lull in conversation, the music on the radio was interrupted for a news announcement. Every one of us froze.

  “The White House has just made an important announcement on the war. And to bring you this story, we interrupt our program to take you to Washington.”

  Another voice took over. “I have just returned from the White House where it has just been announced that the United States is now using an atomic bomb, the most powerful explosive yet developed. At the White House, Eben Ayers, Presidential Press Secretary, released a statement by the President of the United States on the atomic bomb. Here is President Truman’s statement…”

  “The world will note that the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, a military base. We won the race of discovery against the Germans. We have used it in order to shorten the agony of war, in order to save the lives of thousands and thousands of young Americans. We shall continue to use it until we completely destroy Japan’s power to make war.”

  When the music started back up, we all looked at each other in astonishment. “What is an atomic bomb?” Mrs. Sawyer asked.

  Mr. Sawyer looked from George to Matthew, who both seemed baffled. “Whatever it is, it sounds ominous.”

  “Maybe the dirty, no-good Japs are finally getting what they deserve,” Matthew muttered.

  Everyone stared at him, but he kept his eyes on his plate as he lifted a bite of potato salad to his mouth. And just like that, our wonderful day together as a family slipped away.

  ***

  The rest of the week was filled with one story after another about the devastation in Japan. It was sickening. Some newspapers even speculated that the atomic bomb would destroy the world. I marveled at the amount of destruction one bomb could cause. And I mourned the loss of life as, three days later, another bomb was dropped on Nagasaki.

  Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer discussed the bombings at length during supper each evening. Like myself, Mrs. Sawyer was horrified by the death toll being reported. But Mr. Sawyer extolled the possibilities of harnessing such a powerful energy source.

  For his part, Matthew stayed quiet during these discussions. In fact, after the initial news of the Hiroshima bombing, he said nothing more about any aspect of the war. It pained me to see him withdraw again, especially after those precious hours on Monday when we’d been so happy. It was as if God had given us a glimpse of what was possible, and then yanked it out from under us.

  George and Jillian moved back into their apartment across town, so Hope was now sleeping in the bedroom across the hall from us. Matthew and I were finally able to sleep in a bed together all night, which I had thought would be a nice change. But each night, he’d toss and turn violently, and sometimes yell out in his sleep. He’d sweat so much, I had to change the sheets every day. At some point during the night, he would awaken from his nightmares, go out to the back deck, and sit in the lawn chair until morning. Then he’d shower and dress, and head back out to find a job and a house. In the evening he’d return, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes.

  I was losing him in some horribly intangible, indefinable way that I had no idea how to fight. I was losing him. So I prayed. I prayed from morning till night. Most nights, I woke up with him during his nightmares, and I prayed until I fell back asleep. But it seemed to be doing no good.

  The only small ray of hope I held on to was that Matthew finally agreed to attend church with us the following Sunday. Although Mr. Sawyer was a believer, he refused to participate in “organized religion.” So Mrs. Sawyer and I took Hope with us to an old Methodist church a few blocks from their house every Sunday. And when I had to work, she took Hope along with her.

  Given the circumstances, I was surprised Matthew wanted to go. But I prayed this would be the opportunity for us to connect on a deeper level again. I prayed God would begin to heal Matthew’s heart. When he came into the bedroom in his best shirt and tie, I admired him from head to toe.

  “It means so much to me that you’re coming with us today,” I said.

  “I reckon if my family’s in church, then I should be too. Right?”

  That wasn’t exactly the enthusiasm I was hoping for, but I’d take it. “You’ve been different this week. Quiet, more so than usual. And you seem…distant.”

  He tugged on his tie, straightening the knot. “I’m sorry if I’ve concerned you, but I assure you, I’m just fine. There’s a lot going on in the world. A lot to think about. I reckon that’s all. I’ve just been thinking.”

  I went to him and slid my hands along his chest, smoothing out his shirt. “Do you remember the first time you took me to church with you?”

  His mouth twitched and almost smiled. “Yes.”

  “You were so handsome that day. I was so frightened of you, and so drawn to you at the same time.”

  “You were beautiful,” he said. “When I got out of my car, and I saw you in that dress, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.” He kissed me, gently pressing his lips to mine. “I loved you, you know? I loved you then, even though I couldn’t admit it.” He slid his hand around my neck, caressing my cheek with his thumb, and he pressed his forehead to mine. “Ruby,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Your real name.”

  ***

  Matthew reached for my hand as we sat down in the church pew. He didn’t hold it long, maybe only five minutes or so. But I treasured it in my heart. Hope sat in his lap for the first few hymns, leaning in to his chest as if that was where she’d always been. Hope loved the music, but was never able to sit still during a sermon, so we always sat near the back, where I could easily slip out and return with little disruption. As the congregation stood for the
penultimate hymn, I took her to the nursery, leaving her with a hug and a kiss.

  When I returned to the service, the final notes were sounding, and I took my seat next to Matthew. Reverend Young, who was normally vibrant as he took the pulpit, approached it with a troubled frown. He gripped the sides of the wooden pulpit and looked out at the congregation, saying nothing for what seemed like a full minute.

  “My brothers and sisters in Christ,” he began, pausing before continuing. “The events of this week have been both troubling and encouraging, both dreadful and hopeful. Like many of you, I have read with great sorrow of the devastation in Japan. The loss of life is shocking. And in my spirit, I have mourned over the innocent victims whose lives were cut short. I have prayed for their souls, and for the souls of those who survived.”

  I glanced sideways at Matthew. His arms were folded over his chest, and he frowned up at Reverend Young as he continued.

  “In fact, I have mourned many lives over these past few years, some of them your own sons, brothers, husbands, and friends, whose lives have been cut short or forever altered by this terrible war. I’ve felt your pain, but more importantly, God has felt your pain. As difficult as it is to see at times, He is ever present in our sorrows, and He shows us the light to lead us out of the darkness.

  “We have been living in times of great darkness. And none of us knows what will become of this terrible new weapon that has been unleashed. But time and again, as I bowed my head before the Lord this week, He brought me to the Scriptures I’d like to share with you today from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. I’ll be reading from Chapter Four if you’d like to follow along.”

  I opened my Bible and turned to the correct place, moving the Bible toward Matthew so he could look on with me. But he remained stiff, not even glancing down at the book.

  Reverend Young took a deep breath and began. “For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body. For we which live are always delivered unto death for Jesus’ sake, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh. So then death worketh in us, but life in you.”