Cynthia Bond - Ruby

“Ephram, I swear, he was knocking on that door two minutes before you came. I’ve never said two words to that fool.”

He sighed like air leaving a tire, and Ruby learned that quickly, how easily lied to Ephram Jennings was.

CHAUNCY RANKIN ran like a colt down the forest road. At forty-seven he still felt the raw power in his easy movements. He was just the kind of man he admired, tall, good-looking and clever as hell. It didn’t hurt that God had gifted him with length where length was most needed and the width to strike an ax hard enough to fell a medium-sized tree. Chauncy broke into a fine sweat, pushing his body a little bit harder. He knew he would have her again and soon by the looks of it, and damned, if messing with Ephram hadn’t turned her out. She looked good enough to eat. He felt a burning pride that he had been chosen, of all the men, to be welded to the Dyboù. Only the best and strongest were picked, so of course, it had been him. He would rage with might over the pit fire. He would rule.

Chauncy would have laughed out loud but he didn’t have the time. There truly was going to be hell to pay for not being at the burial. The best he could do was blame it on Ephram and his fall into damnation and sin. Why else would he pick a fight in a graveyard? Hell, the mood folks were in, Chauncy figured, he could say just about anything and they’d just tsk-tsk at the stealing of a good boy’s soul. Ephram Jennings deserved all of it and more, being with a born whore, a woman who had laid not only with him, but with half the parish. More than anything Chauncy was grateful that the Brothers had never invited Ephram to the pit fire. A man like that wasn’t worthy to gather their kindling.

THE PINES towered high above Ruby and Ephram as they stood in the front yard, looking at each other in the haze. It was as if the clouds couldn’t decide whether to finish the storm properly or just leave it alone, so it lived a kind of half-life over their heads. It was Ruby who reached her hand through that uncertainty and pulled Ephram towards her.

In spite of the lie or maybe because of it, she felt the soft of the man like a balm. Lying was the shield she had picked up against the hate of life. It would save her still. It would keep this man beneath — no, beside her. She put her head against his chest and heard the steady beat under his sternum. She was a used thing. She was nothing, except his arms wrapped around her, and she felt her heart squeeze in her chest.

Ruby felt the dirt and terror of the afternoon melting.

Ephram looked down and saw shame covering her like a bushel. He lifted up her face.

Ruby saw something in his eyes. It was akin to respect, and shone like a candle. It was so bright, the light entered her, so she couldn’t help but look around. In that instant Ruby saw the walls of her own soul, saw things sparkling there she had never thought to look upon. Pictures of women, old, ancient with eyes like eagles, hands with love burning. She saw Maggie. There were sparkling lights lining the walls, gemstones gleaming. There was a lifetime of learning scribbled there, and a march towards life in spite of the hell that had been dealt her. Ruby blinked against it and then quickly the light went out. She looked away from Ephram, but she knew, knew in that moment that she had seen it, that she could never again pretend she had not felt her worth. It would always haunt her, tug upon her in her darkest moments.

So Ruby kissed Ephram. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it.

Ephram felt her hand glancing the back of his neck and then, soft like the mist around them, Ruby held her lips against his. His hand found her hair and let his fingers rest in a tangle. The other barely touched her waist. She did not press or move, but still Ephram felt a rush through his chest, a steel in his legs, and then she held his lower lip between hers and suckled softly. Then the tip of his tongue. Had she become sugarcane? Did she know the secrets of the stalks? He felt their syrup in her kiss.

Ruby breathed in the man, his salty scent, the faint odor of his aftershave. She took his air into her lungs and held it as he began kissing her, his hands firm now, in her hair, on her back, fingers tight against her ribs. Some powdery feeling collected at the back of her throat and her chest rose too quickly and released with a moan. When she pulled away her eyes were wet.

She looked down at the earth because she couldn’t look directly at the man. She could not give her heart to him. She could never hand over what had been ripped away so long ago. Still, she could stand shoulder to chest beside him. She looked up at the sky. It had made a decision and suddenly poured full and free about them. They did not move.

Ephram almost reached out to touch her cheek but a flash of lightning stopped him. He counted silently and the thunder rolled when he reached nine.

Together like children they waited and counted the next flash. They stopped at seven. The storm was coming closer. Ruby felt the urge to leap against Ephram and hold him too tight, to weep into his collar and thank him for her salvation, but instead she punched his right arm and said, “Nice suit.”

“You like it?”

“Sure do.” Ruby stepped towards the house then turned around. “If you’ve got any others like him at home tell them they’re welcome to come over and stay awhile.”

Ephram smiled. “Six at least. But they don’t go nowhere without their shoes.”

“I suppose the shoes don’t go nowhere without them socks.”

“They’re pushy that way. Matter of fact, they so presumptuous, they jumped in that there bag and dragged me all the way here.”

“Did they?”

“They sho did.”

“Well, if they went to all that trouble, no telling what else they likely to do. I ’spose we best let them on in.”

Ephram went to get the bag. The ice cream was a bit mashed, but still cold in the sack.

They were both grinning when they reached the porch.

The rain fell so hard it started singing. They were almost at the door when they both saw the last traces of the red powder streaking in front of the door. Ruby took a step back. The sight of it sent a spark of anger across Ephram’s chest; he bent down and sniffed. He thought of the stories he’d heard since childhood, of hexes and spells and curses under the blood moon.

“Foolishness.” Then to Ruby he said, “Wait here.”

She leaned against the porch and watched the dark woods as Ephram ducked inside. A quiet terror washed over her. The scent of Aqua Velva lifted with the wind tinged with tobacco. It lasted for only a second. Ephram came out with a scrub brush. He made quick work of finishing what the rain had started; when he was done he rinsed his hands at the pump and put the bags in the house. He lifted Ruby by the waist and easily carried her to the door’s threshold, then paused as the crow started fussing again in the trees, soaked and angry. It cawed, Child, I’d watch myself if I was you .

Over Ephram’s shoulder, a soft outline formed in the dark, and for a moment Ruby saw the Reverend Jennings like a puff of smoke. In the warmth of Ephram’s arms, Ruby tucked it away as a trick of shadow.

“Shut up Maggie,” she whispered, as Ephram carried her into the house.

Celia walked into her silent home after the Rankins’ reception. The fact that Ephram had left during the burial was embarrassment enough, but when he failed to make Junie’s reception, Celia had felt a shame she hadn’t known since her mama rubbed her nakedness in God’s face. She had kept peeking towards the door when it opened, certain that the men and women of Liberty, that threats and plain decency, would have waved Ephram’s little boat home. When it became clear that it had not, she had burned inside of her skin. Supra’s smirk when she handed Celia a piece of Verde’s lopsided coconut cake crushed Celia’s chest in on itself. She stooped just a bit from the effort to accept it.