Cynthia Bond - Ruby

Celia heard the truth as clearly as Gabriel’s trumpet booming above her head. This was the Devil’s work. Who else had a vested interest in the downfall of her church — which was sure to happen if Supra Rankin were elected and used her influence to put more pushy, bossy Rankins on the church board? Who else would tempt him who was closest to her? And who best to do it if not one of the Bells? Those fair-skinned harlots who brought shame and unrest on the community over forty years afore. That blond, blue-eyed Neva Bell, who fornicated with a White man and got herself shot because of it? No matter this one was brown. This Ruby Bell carried the same blood, and that blood carried the same sin. And the sin had risen like a flood to carry her good boy away. She would not allow it! Not now. Not ever.

Ephram was going to church today, and she would become Church Mother.

Celia Jennings rushed into her bedroom, slipped off her house sheath and donned her new blues. She put on her Star-of-Bethlehem brooch, fastened the wig tight on her head, then attached the hat with T-shaped pins. Her shoes — she hadn’t lain them out. She went into her closet and found the patent leather blues. She grabbed her matching purse, the Piggly Wiggly bag with Ephram’s suit, and set out down the road. The same red road Ephram had ventured down not twelve hours before.

The streets and fields were Sunday morning empty, filled with the sound of her feet crunching clay, kicking dust and gravel behind her. She passed Rankin land, the scarecrow waving straw hands in the breeze. The world was in church. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to walk along the low path to stay out of sight. She winced as she passed Bloom’s Juke, still smelling of Saturday night. Then she was back on the main road. Her steps took on a rhythm. A grinding beat. Celia saw the large black bird flutter down on the fence up ahead. Its wings stretched wide as she walked quickly by and it followed her with its oil eyes. It cawed three times, then rose up in flight. Celia walked faster. The beat of patent leather speeding her closer. She reeled past P & K, dark and silent. By the time she passed Rupert’s melon patch and the pathway to Marion Lake she was almost running, the tall pines pushing her along.

When she reached Bell land her breath was deep and sharp. Her knock sounded louder than she expected on the dry rot door. No answer. She knocked again. A face darted in the window then disappeared. She lifted her hand to knock again—

Ephram opened the door.

He looked crumpled. His morning beard growing in, sleep crusting in the corner of his left eye. This wasn’t like her son, who never left the house unshaven, unwashed. He held a wet rag in his hand. His knees were soapy wet and Celia spied a full sudsy bucket over his shoulder, in the kitchen of the filthy house. Had he been— cleaning? And on the Sabbath? The place was a room out of hell. Cob webs and black dirt, layers thick. Dust everywhere. The house reeked of human waste. Celia’s face went numb with disgust and fury.

Between bared teeth she said evenly, “Ephram. You late for Sunday service.”

Ephram looked down at her, his face kind but hardened. “I ain’t going today Celia.”

She heard what sounded like a bedspring in the next room. Celia craned her neck around Ephram and saw that thing sitting on a soiled mattress. Eyes like a swamp lizard. Evil mark on her cheek. Her legs spread out in that foul gray dress she always had on.

Celia lost track of speaking for a moment. Then a noise between a yelp and a cry stabbed up from Celia’s throat. “NO! Ephram, you comin’ with me now.”

Ephram bent his head, scraped at his chin with his hand. “Mama, I’ma stay here for a bit longer.” He tried to put his hand on Celia’s shoulder. She pushed him off.

“Your soul in jeopardy boy.”

“Ceal ain’t nothing in jeopardy — I swear.”

“Look how it started, you already cleaning on a Sabbath.”

“Luke chapter fourteen. ‘The ox was in the ditch,’ Ceal.”

“You twistin’ the Bible already; besides church done started.”

“You go on then. I’ll see you directly.”

“When?”

“When I get there Ceal.” He sounded harder, the softness gone. The nasty thing was standing behind him now.

“Go on,” It said. “Go on home to your mama.”

Celia saw her Ephram turn to the creature and get soft like saltwater taffy. Get soft and sweet and whisper, “But I don’t want to go nowhere Ruby.”

Celia backed away into the front yard. She conjured with gospel — the one thing that never failed to bring Ephram in line. “ ‘… though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow!’ ” Celia pointed to the sky and continued, “ ‘Though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.’ Isaiah 1:18.”

The thing got quiet. Ephram stared dumbly at Celia from the open doorway. Celia felt an electric power building within her, guiding her words. “Ephram, you best to remember Leviticus chapter twenty-six, verse twenty-one: ‘And if ye walk and will not hearken unto me; I will bring seven times more plagues upon you according to your sins. I will also send wild beasts among you, which shall rob you of your children, and destroy your cattle.’ ”

Celia lifted both of her arms high to the heavens to finish the job. She had chosen the perfect passage. Ephram blinked as if he were about to weep. Celia held out the grocery bag with his Sunday suit. She would instruct him to change behind P & K after she delivered the final words. He would enter In-His-Name on Celia’s right arm and they would give testimony together today. About Leviticus. About family and the blood of Jesus. Celia felt her eyes wet with joy as she charged dramatically: “ ‘And if ye will not be reformed by me then will I punish you yet seven times for your sins.’ ”

Celia stood smiling with the outstretched bag.

Ephram shut the door and went inside.

Celia staggered back, slipped on a stone and nearly fell over. She could not breathe, not in nor out, as if a great and mighty wall had crashed into her. She paused for a moment, then ran wildly in shame for home.

She got as far as Marion Lake when she stopped dead, a smile sliding across her teeth. Celia very methodically took off her brooch and placed it in her purse, then rested the purse on the side of the road.

Then Celia threw herself to the ground. Hard. Using one hand to secure her hat and wig, she thrashed herself against the cracked clay. Ripped at her collar … some, but not enough for impropriety. She tore at the lace along the sleeves and inadvertently bloodied her ankle. When she stood she was covered in dust, her brunette skin ashy with scrapes and dirt. Then she reached into her purse, retrieved the brooch and pinned it close to her heart.

When Celia turned onto the church road she had a mission, a holy war she would not only fight, but win. She practiced the first words she would utter upon entering the gate. Upon opening the door to a seated congregation. Upon the singular note of awe she would conjure from the crowd.

She mouthed the words, “I just had a fight with the Devil—” The rest, Celia knew, would spring forth from her mouth like a deep well gushing in the desert. “I just had a fight with the Devil,” she practiced, “and I needs your help to win.”

The man’s flag was still waving, but it was filthy as hell. Ruby sat on the bed and ate the third tea cake Ephram had given her that morning. He’d also brought her head cheese, which she had promptly ignored.

Little charges flashed through her body, then settled. She sipped coffee that he had valiantly prepared on the hearth with a small kettle he’d bought from P & K. The bitter smell connected, then exploded. She hadn’t had a cup of coffee in ten years. And she loved coffee, loved it like air. The fire he’d made danced in the warmth of the day, flecks of blue and gold. He was still cleaning. It had been two hours and he had not stopped to sit, that is, if there had been a clean inch to sit on.