Healing Ruby: A Novel Read online

  I waited outside Matthew’s room with Mary as Dr. Fisher examined him. We paced the hallway together, my arm laced through hers as she wiped her eyes continually with a handkerchief. We couldn’t make out much of what went on inside the room, and it seemed like we waited there for hours. By the time Dr. Fisher and the Doyles stepped out, the sunlight had faded to a deep orange glow. Mary rushed to her mother’s arms. I stood behind her, not sure what to do with myself, but not wanting to leave until I knew how he was doing. So I followed the family down the stairs and into the sitting room.

  Mrs. Doyle about collapsed into one of the chairs, and Mary knelt beside her. As Mary laid her head in her mother’s lap, I tried not to appear as if I was eavesdropping on Mr. Doyle’s conversation with Dr. Fisher.

  “How long?” Mr. Doyle asked, glancing at Mrs. Doyle. I’d only seen him a couple of times so I didn’t know him well at all, but he seemed like a man eager to take control of the situation and fix everything.

  Dr. Fisher pinched his bushy, white eyebrows together as he held his hat in one hand and his medical bag in the other. “It’s hard to speculate. He seems to rally occasionally. But overall, his condition’s worsening more each day. The hemorrhages are only going to get worse.”

  Mr. Doyle sighed heavily and shook his head. “How long does he have?”

  “Maybe a few weeks.”

  Mrs. Doyle stifled a gasp. I felt my stomach pitch. It couldn’t be that close. I was sure, so sure I had proclaimed it out loud, that Matthew would get better. I wanted to drop down on my knees and pray right there. I wanted to tell God exactly what I thought of him letting all this suffering continue for so long.

  Mr. Doyle thanked Dr. Fisher for coming so quickly, and then he excused himself from the room. A moment later, I heard a door slam that sounded like it came from the library. Mrs. Doyle and Mary still sat crumbled together over the chair. Part of me longed to join them, but I knew I didn’t belong.

  “Ruby?”

  I was surprised to hear my name, as if I’d almost forgotten that I was also in the room. I turned to Dr. Fisher, who had to have been the one to speak. “Yes?”

  “You need a ride home, sweetheart?”

  I looked back at Mary and her mother, and then I looked out the window at the darkening sky. I’d be late getting home, and it was a bad idea to call attention to myself. I might have to explain my whereabouts. I walked over to Mary and her mother and knelt beside them.

  “Do you all need anything?”

  “No, Ruby. You can go.”

  Mrs. Doyle didn’t even look at me. Was she still mad at me about the window? She probably thought this was all my fault. Maybe it was, and maybe it was best to leave them to their grieving. I pushed myself up from the floor and turned back to Dr. Fisher.

  “I’d greatly appreciate the ride.”

  “What were you doing at the Doyle place?” Dr. Fisher glanced over at me as he drove like he already knew I was up to something.

  “Just helping out. Mary and I are friends.”

  “Hmmm. You go over there very often?” I wasn’t sure how to answer that one. “Might be best to keep your distance from Matthew. T.B. can be contagious, you know.”

  “I know.”

  I stared out of the window of his car as the trees rushed by in a blur. I hated the feeling I got in the pit of my stomach when I had to lie. The truth wasn’t any easier to say, but at least it didn’t leave me nauseous and jumpy.

  “You gonna tell me what’s going on? Or do I need to ask your mother?”

  “Please don’t say anything to Mother,” I blurted. “I just wanted to be helpful. Mary really is my friend, and they needed help with Matthew, and I can do it, and it doesn’t bother me one bit, and all I do is clean up after him really.”

  “Okay, okay. Slow down.”

  I took a deep breath. “Daddy wouldn’t let me work for the Doyles, so I told him and Mother that I was practicing for a school play in the afternoons. But I’ve been working at their house. I thought once things turned around and Daddy was feeling better, they wouldn’t mind so much, and I could give them the money I’ve been saving.”

  “Oh, Ruby.” I heard the pity in his voice, and when I looked at him, he seemed as heavy-burdened as I’d seen Mother and Mrs. Doyle lately. “Ruby, honey. Your daddy isn’t getting better.”

  I felt my insides harden, and an angry heat rushed through me. “What kind of doctor are you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Going around telling people they have a couple of weeks to be with the people they love! You enjoy crushing the hope out of people?”

  “No, Ruby. Now listen—.”

  “You listen! Daddy will get better. You’ll see. We just have to have faith. God’s going to heal him. And Matthew too. You’ll see.”

  I felt like grabbing him and shaking him until he did see. But I turned back to my window and went to praying. God would see my faith. He’d hear me telling everyone about my faith. He would heal them both if I just had enough faith.

  I came into the house ready to face Mother’s questions with my best lies, but she didn’t even ask where I’d been. In fact, she practically ran out of the bedroom to Dr. Fisher.

  “Oh, thank the good Lord you’re here,” she said. “I was just about to send James out to get you.”

  I looked behind her to James and Henry who both looked stricken. Henry waved me toward him and wrapped me into a hug. I forgot why I’d been mad at him for so long.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Mother grabbed Dr. Fisher’s hand and started to drag him across the room. “Abner’s in terrible shape. Please help him!”

  I followed them into the bedroom as Dr. Fisher rushed to Daddy’s side, and I noticed his face seemed wrong. It was puffed up, and he had a smear of blood across his cheek. Dr. Fisher looked him over, lifting his hands gently as Daddy moaned.

  “Abner?” Dr. Fisher asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Asa done gone and schleff…”

  Dr. Fisher looked at Mother then back down at Daddy. “What did you say?”

  “Asa! He’s after what’s mine!”

  My heart thundered in my chest. I knew this was bad without the doctor having to say a word. I started to step closer to him, but Henry grabbed my shoulders tight.

  “Don’t, Rubes. He ain’t right in the head. He tried to go after James. Came right out of the bed after him!”

  “What?” I turned around and saw the fear in Henry’s eyes.

  Mother sat down next to Daddy and took his hand. “Abner. Honey, Dr. Fisher’s here to help you. Please, tell him what’s hurting you.”

  “You’re what’s hurting me, woman! Asa done told me what you done!”

  Dr. Fisher came around to the door and pulled Mother and us aside. “Let me have a few minutes with him.”

  We backed out of the room, and I stood in the doorway staring at Daddy, unable to see the man who’d held me so close when I was little. I couldn’t still my heart, couldn’t catch my breath. Henry tugged on my hand and led me to the sofa. I sat down beside him and dropped my head on his shoulder. James sat across from us in Daddy’s chair, a dark look in his eyes that mirrored Daddy’s.

  “You all right?” I asked him.

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

  Henry held my hand, gently rubbing up and down my arm. “It’ll be all right, Rubes. He’ll be fine. Doc’s here now.”

  I held onto his words, dug a place for them in my heart and anchored them there. I opened up my prayers, the ones that seemed to stream constantly from my mind to heaven, and I mustered as much faith as my fear would allow. But fear and faith can’t reside in the same heart. Daddy taught me that. I fought to push down the fear by focusing on Daddy’s face when he smiled at me. I saw him sitting in his chair reading his Bible and humming to himself. And I prayed with all my might God would place him back there. I told God how much faith I had in him to do it, and that I would never doubt him again. I tried
not to slip into begging, cause that was the same as fear.

  Seemed like time stood still. Eventually, Dr. Fisher came back out. He had that look, the one he’d had that awful night when the Spanish flu took Charlie, and Daddy had nearly torn the entire house apart in his grief. I felt like tearing down the walls myself in that moment.

  “His kidneys are failing,” Dr. Fisher said.

  “What does that mean?” Mother asked.

  “It means,” he said, reaching for her arm, “it’s time to say your goodbyes.”

  “No!” I heard a scream from somewhere, felt it lift me off the sofa and propel me forward. I reached for Dr. Fisher, ready to pummel him. “No!” I screamed again.

  Mother’s eyes widened, and she reached for me. “Ruby, please.”

  She pulled me in, but something about the comfort of her arms felt all wrong. All of it was wrong. God was going to heal Daddy. I knew it.

  “This is your fault!” I screamed at her and pushed her away. Then I turned to my brothers. “All of you! Where’s your faith? You don’t have enough faith! God would heal him if you just believed it!”

  James’ head was in his hands, and his shoulders shook, but he said nothing. Henry stared at me. Mother stared at me.

  I looked at Henry, the only person who seemed real in the room at the moment. “We just have to believe. The Bible says so. Daddy told me. Get his Bible, and I’ll show you!”

  “Rubes—”

  “Stop it! Don’t look at me like I’m crazy! Get the Bible. Get it!”

  Henry walked into the bedroom and came out with the Bible. I had no idea what to do with it. I stared at it in my hands. It felt like I was holding fire. I had to get out of the room. I couldn’t breathe in there. So I ran out to the dog run where I dropped to my knees. Looking into the dark sky, I let out the sob that had been building in my chest.

  “You promised! I believed you! Where are you?”

  But some part of me knew I hadn’t believed. Not enough. I had to find a way to believe more. I had to find more faith. Somehow.

  I jumped up and ran into my bedroom, climbing onto my bed near the lamp burning there. I opened the Bible to Hebrews, determined to find more faith. That’s where Daddy had found his faith. It had to be there. I stumbled through verses I could barely decipher, the words blurring in my wet vision.

  “For God is not unrighteous to forget your work and labour of love, which ye have shewed toward his name, in that ye have ministered to the saints, and do minister. And we desire that every one of you do shew the same diligence to the full assurance of hope unto the end: That ye be not slothful, but followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises.”

  Faith and patience. I couldn’t get much more out of those verses, but those two words clung to me, and I prayed with all the faith and patience I could find within me.

  “Please, Lord. I know I don’t have enough faith. Help me believe. You can heal Daddy. I know you can. Please don’t take him. Please don’t take him!”

  My words faded into sobs, and eventually I faded into a fitful sleep on the floor in my room. It wasn’t yet light out when I awoke, and for a few seconds I could believe I’d had some horrible nightmare that had tossed me out of my bed and onto the floor. But my fuzzy memory cleared with a lightning bolt of fear.

  I raced back into the living room, but no one was there. Only the lamp was still burning on the mantel. I walked over to the door to Mother and Daddy’s bedroom, afraid to look inside. I peered around the doorway, and there on the bed sat Mother and Henry beside Daddy. James stood in the corner opposite the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest like a shield. For a second I thought maybe my prayers had worked, and Daddy was feeling better. But as I got closer to the bed, I could see he wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. And I suddenly couldn’t breathe either.

  Chapter Five

  Time gets fuzzy in moments when the earth suddenly shifts below your feet. The next couple of days were filled with moments I could hardly bear—watching Mother and Grandma Kellum clean and prepare Daddy’s body for his casket; listening to one person after another tell me about how wonderful it was that he was saved and that I would soon see him again with a healthy body and two fine feet for running on the streets of gold; seeing him lying in that casket so still and unnatural—all of it really, was more than I could take.

  Henry took to the outdoors, feeding the animals, and chopping wood. I wandered out into the dog run at times to get away from all the sympathizers, and I’d watch Henry down at the barn. He’d sling the pigs’ food into their trough then slam the gate behind him and throw the pail into the barn. He’d yell something awful at the mule or the cow as he went by. I wasn’t the only one in the family with a temper; I just had a tendency to explode in front of people rather than doing it off in private.

  James was a rock. He drove out to Good Hope to let all the kinfolk know about Daddy’s passing, and he took care of Grandma Kellum and Grandma Graves when they arrived. He arranged everything about the funeral, from the Goodalls building Daddy’s casket out of the finest pine in the county, to arranging volunteers to sit with the body through the night. He was like a machine.

  Mother was quiet, mostly sitting in a living room chair near the front window. People came by her in a steady stream, hugging her and passing on their love the best they knew how. She’d thank every one of them for coming, even the kinfolk she hadn’t spoken to since leaving Good Hope. The only time I saw her steadiness shaken was when her brothers showed. I’d never met them, but there was a change in the muttering in the room as soon as the three of them entered. They were tall with long beards, and they were dressed in fine suits with long coats that covered the metal flashing around their waists. Mother stood and met them as they crossed the room, hugging them briefly, whispering and then escorting them outside. I didn’t see them again, and I wouldn’t have even known they were her brothers but for a couple of women sitting nearby clicking their tongues over the scandal of having the Kellum brothers show up at the funeral.

  I couldn’t think on it for long. All my thoughts seemed drowned by my anger and confusion over God’s ignoring my pleas. I drifted from complete despair over what I could’ve done to somehow increase my faith, to righteous indignation at a God who would demand such an unreasonable price. But guilt would soon follow, reminding me that I was a mere human, with no idea how to comprehend how God’s will worked. I sat up at night riding these shifting sands of emotions, unable to sleep, unable to think clearly, still poring over Scriptures that seemed like a foreign language. One verse from Hebrews in particular stuck inside me, though.

  “But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.”

  It came to my mind over and over, convincing me that I just hadn’t believed strongly enough for God to reward me. By the morning of the funeral, I was downright delirious with exhaustion. Mother helped me put on the dress Daddy had given me for Christmas. It wasn’t exactly made for a funeral, but she smiled at me all the same.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, kissing my forehead. “Your daddy would’ve loved seeing you so pretty.” Then her eyes welled up, and she dabbed at them with her kerchief.

  It had been a noble idea on my part, but I soon regretted wearing that dress. As we walked up the road leading to the cemetery in the blazing sun, my whole body from my chest down to my ankles started itching from all the proper underwear such a garment required. I was sweating as we crossed the small bridge over Whaley Mill Creek, and I suddenly wanted to wade right into it. Despite the enormous amount of food covering every inch of our kitchen, I’d forgotten to eat for the past two days and was about out of my head.

  The procession of mourners followed us like a slow-moving train, some walking, others riding in wagons. As we turned into the cemetery beside Hopewell Church, I stopped next to Mother and stood between her and my brothers. I didn’t look up
from the ground, but I could feel sorrow surrounding me as everyone moved in close together. Henry reached his hand from inside his jacket sleeves and squeezed mine.

  “You look beautiful, Rubes. Like a real lady.”

  I looked over at the casket sitting so upright and strong in the sun, waiting courageously to be dropped into the dark hole beside it. It made me shudder to think of Daddy being down there, covered in darkness, alone and cold. I knew what any good Christian should know—that Daddy wasn’t really in there. He was with Jesus in glory, a fact our preacher, Brother Wright, shouted with such vigor, it echoed inside my head. Even though I knew all this, I wanted to be sure Daddy was all right. And that was when I saw him.

  As the preacher started talking about Daddy’s gracious and generous spirit, I saw Daddy watching me from just over the crown of the hill under a large oak tree. He was staring right at me, at least he seemed to be. But he was too far away for me to tell. I started shaking, and Henry tightened his grip on my hand.

  He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “You all right?” All I could do was nod.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Daddy. He stood there with his hat in his hands, his head bowed at times. I could swear he was crying. Then I realized Henry had let go of my hand, and he and James were helping to lower the coffin into the grave. My stomach lurched, and I cried out despite myself. As I fell to my knees, Mother took hold of my shoulders and buried my head in her arms. I couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the darkness from creeping in around the corners of my vision. But then I remembered him, and I managed to stand.

  “Mother, he’s here!” I croaked.

  “What? Who?” Tears had streaked her face, and she tried to wipe them away.

  “Daddy. He’s over there, watching us.” I pointed to the oak tree where I’d seen him, but no one was there.

  She didn’t take more than a glance. “Ruby, it’s time to let him go. Now get a hold of yourself and behave like a young lady he’d be proud of.”