Way Down Deep (16 page)

Miss Arbutus was caught up in her story and unaware of her transformation in the eyes of the townspeople. She continued.

“With the toddler giggling and whispering ‘Hossie! Hossie!' I galloped through the valleys and woods, up and down the mountains, and over the streams.

“At one place I followed the road. Black snakes had come out to sleep on the pavement, for it was still warm from the previous day. But I hopscotched over them, and the little girl giggled.

“In a dark, cool hollow I stopped to rest. The child climbed off my back and played in the creek. Her tears had dried, and I never knew her to cry for her mommie again.

“Then I heard singing. The girl heard it, too, for she was as quiet as the stars. My mother used to tell me that at certain times if you listen, you can hear the hills singing, and I knew that's what it was.

“These hills hold the memories of people who have lived here for more than a thousand seasons, and they sing of lost love, broken hearts, death, but also of rebirth, renewal, second chances. And about children being rescued in dreams.”

A sigh went about the room.

“Then we continued our journey into Way Down. It was barely daylight when we perched on the bench in front of the courthouse before going home. I was telling the little one about the people in the town and how much she was going to like them, when suddenly there was a terrific crash, and I woke up with a cry, in my own bed!

“It so happened that the milkman was running late that morning, and in his haste he had dropped a quart of
milk on the walkway directly beneath my window. Crash! And I had been startled from sleep.

“In a panic I jumped out of bed and ran about my room, recalling the child. Where was she? Where was she? All I knew was that she was not with me any longer, and my heart broke in two. Should I run down to the courthouse just to see, you know . . . to see?”

It appeared that Miss Arbutus might start weeping with that sad memory of waking up alone.

“ ‘No!' I told myself. ‘It's no use. It's hopeless. It was only a dream. Only a dream. There was no little girl, no treasure.' I don't mind saying the disappointment was almost more than I could bear.

“I moved into the bitter morning like a sleepwalker, asking myself, ‘What now? What now?'

“But soon, as you all know, everybody in town was talking about the redheaded toddler found in front of the courthouse. And my heart went soaring again. I did not question how it had happened. It didn't matter. It was true! It was true! My treasure was real!

“When I saw her in the doctor's office that day, she held out her arms for me and cried, ‘Hossie! Hossie!' ” Miss Arbutus chuckled. “But nobody seemed to notice, and the rest is history.

“Many nights I have gone into her room, just to watch her sleep and to wonder at the magic that brought her into my life. She has told me that a lady comes into her room at night, and she believes it to be her mother. I tell her, ‘Yes, I am sure it is your mother.' ”

Miss Arbutus sat there with a dreamy expression on her face, apparently finished with her tale.

“What if . . .” Robber Bob spoke up. “What if the milkman had dropped that bottle and you had woke up while you were far away . . . in that holler maybe, or racing with the panther?”

“That's right!” Mr. Shortt chimed in. “Then Ruby June woulda been left out in the woods by herself in the night.”

“I have considered that possibility myself,” Miss Arbutus said. “The only answer I can find is that the heart has a wisdom of its own.”

For a long time there was silence in the room. The people looked at each other, then back at Miss Arbutus.

“I understand . . .” came a whisper from close by. It was Mrs. Bevins. “I understand why you never told anybody before, but why are you telling us now, Miss Arbutus?”

“I wanted you to understand that she was meant to be with me. Y'all can see that, can't you?”

The response was unanimous.

“Definitely.”

“Certainly.”

“Absolutely.”

“If Judge Deel were here this week, I would ask him for help. But even without his advice, I can see the necessity of taking Ruby's case before the Virginia judge again. And when I'm in court, I will have to swear to tell the whole truth.”

“We'll stand by you, Miss Arbutus.”

“We'll vouch for your character.”

“And the way you've brought the girl up to be so fine.”

Miss Arbutus was touched.

Again, nobody spoke for a long time. The people could not get enough of staring at Arbutus Ward, whom they felt they were seeing for the first time. Rita continued to play with the long, dark hair. The woman and child smiled tenderly at each other, as if communicating secretly.

Presently soft weeping could be heard, and all eyes went to Mr. Crawford. Somebody handed him a handkerchief, and he mumbled, “I'm sorry, it's just that I see now.”

“See what?” Mr. Morgan asked.

“That your true mother is the one who loves you and cares for you.”

The people mumbled in agreement.

“I understand something, too.” Mr. Farmer spoke up. “I have been drowning in my memories . . . of the war.”

Mrs. Farmer reached out and took her husband's hand in hers.

“But now I see how lucky I am to be here . . . now.”

Detective Holland looked around the room at the expressions on the people's faces. He did not ask a single question. And he never would.

R
UBY
J
O!
R
UBY
J
O!
”

Ruby stopped dead in her tracks and turned slowly. She was startled at the sight of a woman in a white nightgown moving through the woods, calling for her, and a vague memory passed through her mind.

Miss Arbutus in her long white nightgown in these woods. She and Miss Arbutus running in the moonlight!

But no . . . it was not Miss Arbutus. It was Grandma. Ruby set the suitcase down and waited.

Grandma waved something in one hand. “Ruby Jo! I've brought the picture for you. You can have it back!”

Ruby was too surprised to respond. Goldie Combs approached and handed the photo to her.

“Jo . . . lene,” Grandma gasped, slipping back into her old habit.

“I am not Jolene. I am Ruby,” Ruby said with resolve. “My mother gave me that name because it was her favorite.”

Grandma was struggling to breathe.

“Here, sit on my suitcase and rest,” Ruby said.

Grandma sat down, picked up the tail of her nightgown, and wiped her face with it.

“How do you know . . .” she managed to say, then paused to suck in air, “about her favorite name?”

“It was one of the first things I read on the wall,” Ruby explained.

“That's why I went into your room today,” Grandma said. “To see if I could read some of it.”

“And could you?”

“I can't read!” Grandma cried out, as if she were in pain.

Ruby was alarmed at the anguish in her grandma's voice. “You mean . . . do you mean the glasses don't help?”

“
No!
The glasses work, but I never learned to read or cipher properly. My mother kept me out of school.”

Ruby was speechless. Grandma could not read? She did not know anybody over six who could not read. It was like saying you couldn't breathe or eat or drink water.

“Oh, I can make out some words . . . but . . . I was only a girl, you see. Girls were not important back then. They didn't get much learning.”

Grandma seemed like a whipped thing, too beaten to fight anymore. They were quiet for a long time. Finally Grandma's breathing came evenly.

“Come on, I'll walk you home,” Ruby said gently as she grasped the woman's elbow.

The two of them hiked back up the path through the woods.

“Ruby was the name she gave that calf one time,” Grandma said. “She loved that calf.”

“I like my name,” Ruby said.

“I can call you Ruby Jo, if that's what you want.”

“Yes, it is.”

The woods were very dark by then, but Ruby could see the sky ahead where it stretched out wide and deeply turquoise over the top of the mountain.

“And you'll not leave?” Grandma said.

“I can wait until morning.”

But Grandma was full of surprises this night. “I want to go with you,” she said.

“What?”

“Yes, I've thought and thought about it, ever since you started telling me about Way Down and The Roost and all the people living there. It makes me want to be a better person.”

“You want to live at The Roost?”

“Yes, I've never wanted anything so bad. I didn't know there was such a place.”

“But, Grandma, it costs money to live there. Miss Arbutus can't afford another charity tenant.”

“You said it was two dollars and fifty cents a day!” Grandma said brightly, hopefully. “I can afford that. Chris pays me every week, partly in groceries and partly in cash. I helped him buy the store. If I was eating at The Roost,
he would have to give me all cash. And another thing—your grandpa worked for the railroad. So I am able to draw his pension, and Social Security, too, thanks to Franklin D. Roosevelt!”

Ruby's mind went flying. Sure, Grandma probably had more than enough. It was indeed one solution. It was a way in which she could go back and live with Miss Arbutus without a court battle.

“Actually, the permanent residents get a break,” Ruby conceded. “They pay only two dollars a day.”

“There! See! I can afford that easy.”

But Grandma at The Roost? Would it work?

“The Roost is not a nursing home,” Ruby said.

“I know.”

“Nobody is going to serve your meals in bed.”

“I know that! I want to take my meals around that big oak table with the other people. I can picture it in my head.” Then after a brief hesitation, she added, “I'm not sick, Jolene . . . I mean Ruby Jo.”

“You're not sick?”

“No, I'm just mad. I've been mad for so long, I've nearabout forgot how to be not mad.”

“Well, it's not very nice pretending to be sick, and having people wait on you!” Ruby snapped.

“No, it's not!” her grandma agreed. “I ain't been nice.”

They stepped up on the porch, where the front door was standing wide open. They went inside and Grandma sat down heavily in a kitchen chair.

“I was born to pretty decent folks over on Bull Mountain,” she said. “But my daddy died when I was ten. That was the first time my heart broke in two. Then Mama died, when I was still a teenager.

“When I was old enough to court, the boy I loved married somebody else, and I had to settle for your grandpa. He brought me over here to live. So I just traded one mountaintop for another. And working for the railroad, he was gone most all the time. Seems like I was isolated from people my whole life.

“When I was just getting to like my husband, he died, too. Then Chris married Max and left me. Next Jolene run away and got married, and I was all alone on this mountain, with no way of ever getting off.

“Yeah, I was mad at the world. I had spent my whole life taking care of my family, cooking for them, waiting on them, cleaning up their messes. And what happens? I'm left all alone.

“When they were having money troubles, Chris brought his wife and six children here to live with me, and I was glad to have them. But you know what they did then? They both got jobs down in the valley. They went off to work every day and I was stuck with taking care of their kids. Then Jolene died and you came to me. I never did appreciate you 'cause you were just one more person to take care of. So when you disappeared, I felt awful guilty.

“When Chris and Max took their kids and moved out, I didn't think I could take the loneliness. I wanted to hit
somebody, hurt somebody. Instead I played sick so Chris would have to come back and take care of me like I had took care of everybody all my life. I didn't count on him sending strangers to tend my needs. So I got madder and madder and meaner and meaner.

“But now, Ruby Jo, having you here with me, it's been like having Jolene with me again. And I realized how much I loved her, and missed her. I want to be with you, Ruby Jo—I want to spend time with my granddaughter. I wouldn't have to be mad or mean no more. I might even be happy in a place like Way Down.”

“And what if you're not happy?” Ruby said rather harshly. “Are you going to be bigmouthed and bossy, and embarrass me in front of my friends?”

Her grandma looked at her with weary eyes, but said nothing.

“At The Roost we all get along,” Ruby went on. “We respect each other, and we don't have people yelling and hollering and ordering other people around. Nobody wants to live with a bully!”

“I know, I know,” her grandma answered rather meekly. “All I can say is, I'll try to get along. I want to be there with you, Ruby Jo. And I want to meet those people and live in that town. I want to sit on the porch and watch people go by. I want to talk to somebody different every day, and have friends for the first time in my life. Maybe somebody will teach me to read.”

Ruby immediately thought of Miss Worly. Wouldn't she love that challenge? But still Ruby felt a nagging
doubt. Sure, somebody could teach Grandma to read, but could you teach a woman her age to change her mean-tempered ways?

“Come in here,” Ruby said, pointing to her room, “and let me read you what your daughter—my mama—had to say.”

Slowly, heavily, her grandma got up from her chair and followed Ruby into her room. Ruby began reading aloud among the parasols. She read for a long time without glancing up.

“Why does Mama hate me?” were the last words from Ruby's lips before she turned and faced her grandma. “Now aren't you ashamed . . .”

But she didn't go on. Grandma was crying.