Serial Saturday: "The Suggestion Box, Vol. 4: A to Z Challenge" Letter R

The List:
-Ruby, Rachel, Richard
-Richmond, railroad, riverside
-Resurrection Sunday
-right, Redeemer, roots, rye, reason, raspberry, roses, ruched, raisin, rolls, reminder, random, return, rectify, redemption

The Result:

"Regarding The Rye"

 

Ruby felt the stares as she sat in the rigid pew of the Southern Baptist Church of The Redeemer. She focused on the ruched fabric covering her knees as the pastor rambled through several passages on the crucifixion. Nora had reminded her several times that the raspberry color did look absolutely stunning, and no, Ruby wouldn’t stand out, but among all the voluminous pastels and porcelain-pale faces, Ruby knew that her dark-amber skin stood out like a raisin in a pound cake. It didn’t matter what she wore; in Harlem she could blend in without so much as a hat. In this Alabama church, there was nothing she could do to rectify the situation. She sat, eyes glued to the pastor, praying to Jesus that there wouldn’t be an outcry here like there had been at the train station.

The church held an Easter potluck on the lawn after the service. Ruby bustled behind Nora with the basket of hot cross buns made by her mother-in-law. They had almost reached the table when an older woman in a bright floral-print dress made straight for Nora.

“Oh, Ellanora, my dear!” she said loudly, grasping Nora’s hands in her knobby, ringed fingers. “It was so good to see that raggedy old head of yours in front of me this morning. Prattville just hasn’t been the same without you!”

Nora winced and tried to pull her hands out, but the woman held on. “Thank you, Lorraine—“

“Now, think nothing of it, Ellanora; that’s what friends are for.” More women joined her, reaching out to Nora and clucking their tongues sympathetically. The ring closed off between Ruby and her mother-in-law. Lorraine smiled even wider. “Now, speaking of friends, we of the Ladies Society wanted to give you a gift, as a reminder that we’re here for you, no matter what.”

Ruby couldn’t see what it was, but she heard Nora’s reaction.

“Have you all lost your minds?” she squealed, bursting out of the circle.

Lorraine looked on with a face full of shock and pity. “Why, Ellanora! We just heard about what happened…” she glanced around privately. “We all wanted to help you. That’s all this is.”

“I may be a widow but I am not a charity case, Lorraine Charlotte Rose Montgomery!”

The expression Lorraine wore made it seem like Nora might have pushed her. “I never said anything about charity. Richard even said he would be willing to—“

Nora grabbed the basket from Ruby and scowled at the woman. “Just stay away from me, Lorraine! Mount Placid belongs to the Mulberry family, and none of you are welcome there any more!”

Ruby followed her to the table, where she set the basket of rolls amid the loaves of bread and pastries.

“Arrogant, meddling women, throwing their money around and thinking they’re better than other people!” Nora grumbled, moving to join the long queue of ravenous churchgoers ready to feast.

“What was the gift?” Ruby wasn’t sure if it would be safe to ask, but she did, anyway.

Nora scowled. “Money! The women I would socialize with on a regular basis heard the rumor about the bank laying claim on Mount Placid—Lord knows how they could have found out, nosy gossips! So, naturally, they assume I am just a poor, destitute wretch and they took up a collection for me! And that rude, stuffy Rachel Thurston thought I would be head over heels to rent one of her guest rooms—the very idea!”

They had reached the table, heaped their plates with a rainbow of delicious foods, and now Nora had decided to take her wounded pride to a table all by herself. Ruby sat beside the woman, as she had done this entire time. She hadn’t taken the first bite before someone called her name.

“Ruby!” A young woman with rich auburn hair curled back along the nape of her neck approached the table.

Ruby set down her fork and smiled. “Hello, Diana,” she said quietly.

Diana pinched her pretty rose-colored lips into a smile. “What are you doing sitting way back here? Come over, there’s still a place at our table yonder!”

Ruby’s eyes went right to Nora as she replied, “Oh, thank you for your offer, but—“

“Oh, go ahead,” Nora waved her hand. “I need some time to sulk alone before the Holy Spirit comes along to convict me, anyhow.”

Ruby gave Nora’s hand a reassuring squeeze as Diana giggled awkwardly at the insinuation. She picked up her plate and moved to join this new circle of friends she had managed to find in a place as regimented as Prattville.

“So,” Diana continued as they threaded their way between the tables. “Have you heard the news?”

Living at Mount Placid with only the few house servants and her mother-in-law, Ruby hadn’t found much of a resource for all the comings and goings of Prattville. “What news?”

“Basil’s back!” Diana’s eyes gleamed as she said it.

Ruby fancied he must be someone important, but she hadn’t heard the name. “Basil who?”

Diana set her plate down and plopped into her chair. “Basil Sheppard, of course! Oh, Rubes, he’s only the largest landowner in Prattville. You know that pile of refuse at the edge of Carver’s Wood, down by the old railroad crossing that nobody uses anymore?”

Ruby nodded; she hadn’t told anyone, but instead of going to the grocers in town, she’d been digging through the pile for the deformed root vegetables, and she’d even found a pile of wild rye growing in this seemingly random patch of garden in the forest. Nora had yet to ask where the provisions came from, but there hadn’t been any reason to tell her before now. “Yes, I know the place.”

“That’s the edge of his property, while the main house and the stables and barn are closer to the riverside—can you imagine all that land?” Diana sighed. “Anyway, since you don’t seem to know much about him, I’ll just tell you that he’s recently returned from a milling competition in Richmond. He’d supplied grain from his fields, you know, and rumor has it that, out of all the other grains in the competition, Basil’s grain was pronounced the Best in the South!”

Ruby barely heard her, as guilt crowded over her mind. Her pounding heart roared in her ears. Award-winning grain! That had been his rye she had stored in the cellar of Mount Placid! His radishes and roots! Here she had almost convinced herself that it had been free for the taking; that the mound of produce was all rejected specimens as less-than-perfect—but in reality, she was stealing! Ruby Corden Burke was nothing more than a common Negro thief after all! She needed to rectify this transgression, or risk losing any kind of redemption she had hoped to gain.

 >>>>>>>>>

 This story is based on a future installment of the ReBible Series, a collection of novels based on Bible stories, set in more modern times. This particular story is based on the story of Ruth, set in America in the years just before and immediately after the Great Depression.

Those familiar with the Biblical account might recognize this scenario; for those less familiar, the climax of the story of Ruth comes when Ruth, poor and penniless in the land of her mother-in-law, Naomi, takes it upon herself to glean after a group of harvesters, as the law allows her to do. She ends up gleaning in the fields of Boaz, whom she finds out later happens to be a distant relative, and the means by which she could potentially save herself and her mother from homelessness. 

In "The Remnant Resonance", Ruby, in a fit of guilt after finding out she'd been gathering roots and grains from another man's field, uses some of it to make what she calls a "Restitution Pie", intending to present it to him, confess what she'd done, and apologize for the thievery. Unfortunately, the man who greets her at the house isn't "Mr. Sheppard," but his supervisor, who accepts her apology and grants her permission to keep anything she finds in the mound at the edge of Carver's Wood. As for what happens after that, time will tell... Check the hyperlinked text above for more excerpts from this and other potential installments in the series!

 Also in the A-to-Z Challenge Series: ( * Continuations of Suggestion Box installments)

-Letter A*       ]     [-Letter K*

-Letter B*       ]     [-Letter L*

-Letter C        ]      [-Letter M

-Letter D        ]      [-Letter N*

-Letter E        ]      [-Letter O

-Letter F        ]      [-Letter P

-Letter G       ]      [-Letter Q*

-Letter H 

-Letter I*

-Letter J (Part 1) and (Part 2)

 

Serial Saturday: "The Suggestion Box, Vol. 4: A to Z Challenge" Letter P

The List
-Philomena, Persimmon
-planting season
-Mount Placid, plantation, Prattville
-planting, peaceful, picture, painting, portrait, packet, potpourri, porch, post-chase, platform, porter, productive, pocket, poplars, private, please, property, passengers, pile, police

The Result:

"The Perturbation of Mount Placid"

"Prattville Station! All passengers with the destination of Prattville, Alabama!"

Ruby peeked out the window of the train as the piercing whistle heralded the squeal of the brakes slowing down its progress.

She reached over and nudged the sleeping Nora.

"Ma," she whispered, "we're here."

Nora raised her head. The two-day trip from New York to Alabama seemed to hang from her every drooping wrinkle. She looked positively wilted as she followed Ruby's gaze.

The young woman felt the stiffness of her mother-in-law's grip on her hand.

"Coming home should be peaceful," Ruby heard Nora's perplexed voice. "Why does it feel like punishment?"

Ruby patted the old woman's shoulder. "It'll be all right," she whispered. "You'll see."

They stood up, but it was a while before the press of bodies in the aisle cleared up enough for Ruby to lead Nora out of the train.

On the platform, she discovered that the hasty porters had simply tossed the luggage in a pile, and she could see the corner of her small valise poking out from under a rather hefty trunk.

Cold horror gripped her chest as the young widow remembered exactly what she had so carefully packed in her case.

"Oh no!" She gasped, running forward. "Oh no! No!"

Fear gave her limbs astonishing strength as she single-handedly fought to pull the trunk off her precious package.

"Hey you!" A voice barked. "Hey! That Negro is stealing my trunk!"

Whistles shrieked, and a porter just coming down the platform grabbed her arm.

"Please!" Ruby begged. "It's got my—"

"Get away from his stuff, lady!"

"Thief!"

"Somebody call the police!"

"No wait, please!"

Chaos reigned for a few moments, and Ruby couldn't even see the pile of luggage as passengers converged to make sure "the Negro thief" hadn't touched their belongings. When the porter released her arm, Ruby saw her flattened bag on the platform, next to Nora's travel trunk. She dashed forward, fumbling at the clasps with shaking hands. From the inner pocket, she withdrew a portrait she had commissioned just after marrying Charlie, intending to create a tradition of bringing it out when he was away.

The frame had bent and the glass had cracked under the pressure, but the painting was still intact.

Seeing his face again... Ruby felt the pain anew, bursting a hole right through her core. She clutched the picture to her chest as the sobs overcame her.

"Charlie!" She whimpered. "Oh Charlie!"

"Yes, just that one," she heard Nora giving instructions.

Ruby hastily dug a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. A porter loaded Nora's trunk onto a cart. Ruby slipped the painting back into her valise and picked it up to join her mother-in-law.

“I thought you might want a private moment,” Nora muttered, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Ruby.

“I’m all right now, Ma,” Ruby whispered.

“Ellenora Burke?” a man stood outside the station, a horse-drawn post-chase tethered to the rail outside.

Nora stepped forward. “Ellenora Mulberry, if you please.”

Ruby frowned; why wouldn’t Nora keep the name she’d taken as a wife?

The man took Nora’s hand to assist her down to the chase. “You and your companion can sit there, ma’am.“

“I’m not—“ Ruby stopped as the sound of her voice prompted the man to turn and acknowledge her for the first time. She cleared her throat and raised her chin. “I am her daughter-in-law, Ruby Burke.” She smiled and extended her hand, as etiquette dictated she could.

The man only stared at her with a puzzled expression, until Nora added, “Yes, she’s my—she’s family. Now, please, let’s go.”

The man shrugged, but he didn’t lift a finger to help Ruby after getting Nora settled. He climbed up to the driver’s seat and lifted the reins.

“Next stop, Mount Placid!” he announced, and they departed.

An uncomfortable silence pervaded the inside of that small coach, so small that the two women sat knee to knee. Nora could only ignore Ruby’s pointed stare for so long.

“It just hurts, you know?” she complained. “Hearing his name attached to mine, when he’s been gone for almost two years now. In Manhattan, I could at least live in the place he bought, walk through the stores he supplied—here? There is nothing of Ethan in Prattville. Particularly when we get to Mount Placid, you’ll find everything revolves around the Mulberry name.” She nodded with satisfaction, but when Ruby still wouldn’t reply, Nora grumbled, “It’s not as if you have to be Ruby Burke, either! There is nothing for you here—why did you even come? You saw the way those people treated you at the station; you realize we’re going to a plantation? One of the few that’s managed to stay productive? Didn’t that ever give you pause? Life in New York is very different than the one we live in Alabama—better and more peaceful in some ways, and in others…” her voice trailed off as they approached the lane lined with poplars—the private drive to the main property of Mount Placid plantation. “So much worse,” she finished.

Ruby leaned against the window, where the aroma of fresh green vegetation was most profuse. She sighed. It couldn’t be so bad, if a place had such pleasant smells. New York had always smelled like coal, kerosene, and vomit to her. Mount Placid smelled like the little packets of potpourri Ophelia would give her for her birthday.

“I came to support you, Nora,” she replied softly. “Before I met Charlie, I never had a mother—Ophelia was the closest thing to family I ever had. Since marrying him, you became my mother—and without him, you are the only person I’ve ever claimed as my real family. I don’t mind what other people say about me or do to me—it’s not altogether different than the life I led in Harlem. You accepted me as part of your family, so I am going to do everything I can to be a daughter to you.”

The post-chase pulled to a stop in front of a tall porch. The driver again helped Nora out of the carriage and up the steps, leaving Ruby to trudge behind. She stepped in and took her mother-in-law’s hand when the driver went back down to retrieve Nora’s luggage.

A dark-skinned woman in a voluminous plaid dress opened the door to greet them. She grinned when she saw who had come.

“Well, Miz Nora! You done made it home, child!”

“Hello, Persimmon,” Nora said. “How is Mother?”

Persimmon wagged her head, “Missus Philomena ain’t left her room since planting season.” She took Nora’s free hand and patted it. “She been getting worse since the Master passed away. You best be getting on to her.” Her gaze came to rest on Ruby. “I’ll show your help downstairs—“

“Thank you, Persimmon,” Nora held onto Ruby’s hand still. “That won’t be necessary. This is Ruby—my daughter-in-law. She’ll be staying in one of the guest rooms.”

Persimmon immediately ducked her head and said nothing. Perhaps she knew better than to protest.

Ruby didn’t look at the housekeeper as they climbed the stairs together, but she could feel the cold prickle of that persistent stare all the way to the second floor.

>>>>>>

This story is a scene from another planned installment of The ReBible Series--"The Remnant Resonance", a re-telling of the story of Ruth, set in America during the Great Depression. Head over to the series page via either the tab at the top of the blog, or the hyperlinked text above for more excerpts from this title.

 Also in the A-to-Z Challenge Series: ( * Continuations of previous Suggestion Box installments)

-Letter A*       ]     [-Letter K*

-Letter B*       ]     [-Letter L*

-Letter C         ]     [-Letter M

-Letter D         ]     [-Letter N*

-Letter E         ]     [-Letter O

-Letter F 

-Letter G  

-Letter H 

-Letter I*

-Letter J (Part 1) and (Part 2)

NaNoWriMo 1K-A-Day: Day 25

The Remnant Resonance (Ruth)

 The telephone rang. Ruby ignored it, wrapped up in the grips of the novel she was reading. She habitually didn’t answer the phone, since most often it was for Nora or one of the boys. It wasn’t till she heard Ophelia’s voice answering the phone that Ruby suddenly remembered with a violent wrench of her heart that Charlie and Martin wouldn’t be answering the phone ever again--and Ophelia didn’t know.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Ophelia growled, and slammed the receiver back in its cradle.

Feeling guilty, Ruby tiptoed to the doorway and poked her head through. Ophelia was scowling darkly at the telephone, as one would defiantly stare down an enemy.

“Who was it?” Ruby asked, attempting in vain to keep her voice casual, even though she knew exactly who it must be.

Ophelia pursed her lips tightly. “Some joker passing himself off as a doctor from the city morgue. Said we had an appointment to identify the bodies of Martin and Charles Burke this afternoon.” She smirked. “I didn’t fall for that line, though; they’re not due back till next week.”

Ruby felt that she couldn’t deliver the news standing up. She quickly dropped into a chair at the table next to Ophelia.

“Fee…” she began slowly. “It… it wasn’t a joke.”

Ophelia snorted. “What, you expect me to believe that our husbands somehow died without our knowing?” She chuckled. “You know, now that I think of it, Nora did mention something about a surprise coming the other day.” She playfully cast a knowing look at her friend. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? Something like, we go down to the morgue, and they are hiding under sheets, and they jump out and scare us? One of the ladies down the assembly line was telling a story like that, only her husband arranged with the doctor to do it a few weeks ago, on Halloween. Seems a bit out-of-season to do a trick like that now, wouldn’t you say?”

“Fee, it’s not a trick!” The longer it took to get the news out, the harder it became. “We were meaning to tell you. Nora and I went down to the train station to meet Charlie and Martin--”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

Ophelia shook her head. “So you were all in on it together! Taking advantage of the fact that I’m always the last to know, eh? So tell me, do you think they’d mind if I just didn’t react when they jumped? I bet they wouldn’t expect that!”

“Ophelia, stop!” Ruby begged, feeling the hard lump forming in her throat. “It’s not a trick, the boys aren’t at Harvard… they wanted to come early… that was the surprise…” Ruby could only manage a phrase at a time.

“What are you talking about?” Ophelia frowned. “Of course it’s a joke! Could you imagine such a freak thing as both brothers dying at once?” She picked up the receiver again. “I bet if I recalled that number, it will be something completely different.” She dialed the operator. “Yes, could you connect me to the number that just called a few minutes ago?” She held the receiver away from her ear so that Ruby could hear the voice as well. Ophelia grinned as the thready voice spoke.

“Harlem City Morgue; who is speaking?”

The grin vanished. Ophelia slammed the receiver down so hard that Ruby worried she might actually be strong enough to break the cradle.

“You shut your fool mouth!” she screamed at the phone, as if it had been the source of the revelation.

“Ophelia,” Ruby reached toward her. “I tried to tell you--”

“No!” Ophelia shoved her hands away and retreated to the far corner of the kitchen. “It’s not true! It’s not real!” She began sobbing in heaving, open-mouthed wails. “Stop! No! NO!”
>>>>>>

The Astonishing Adventures of Jonas Crow (Jonah)

The comic issue had opened to a page near the back of the book he had never seen before. Frantically, he checked the front cover: B.Y.B.L Issue #37, one of his “legacy” comics, an issue he’d received early on in his development of the “hidden message” conspiracy. It should have been one he knew by heart, but the pictures on this particular page were entirely unfamiliar. It was a segment called “A Prophet Arising,’ and Deus had called Remus in to tell him of a new mission and a new figure he was going to recruit.

“Here is your new mission,” said Deus, looking more shadowy than usual. “I’m going to let you uncover more intel about the true identity of Nixon Seatent.”

“What will you be doing while I’m out of the way?” Remus asked.

“I need to stop by and visit a friend of mine,” Deus replied.

“The Prophet?” Remus asked.

“Some would call him that.” The artist had drawn a wide grin on Deus’ face--at least, the lower half that was sketched and not blacked out for dramatic effect. “I have a very important mission for him.”

“Why not give me the mission?” Remus asked. “If it’s so important. I feel like you’re shuffling me off to the side.”

“The difference is that you already trust me,” Deus stated, “while The Prophet still needs to learn how to do that.”

“Can I ask what sort of mission his will be?” Remus inquired.

“You certainly may, I don’t have secrets from you. I have decided that he will be the one to deliver my message to The Siren, that she needs to relinquish her power and return to the cave from whence she came, or she will face my wrath.”

“He’s not going to like it,” Remus remarked.

“I know,” said Deus. “But he’ll have no choice.”

Jonas felt his scalp prickle as goosebumps stood up all over his skin. The Prophet? Deus and Remus--they were discussing him! “The Prophet still needs to learn how to trust me.” Was that the reason Deus was sending him to Vegas? Jonas shook his head.

“What am I thinking?” he mused. “Going to Vegas? Ha! That will never happen, unless I get a sudden death wish!” He chuckled to himself and got up to pull the leftover pizza out of the refrigerator.

NaNoWriMo 1K-A-Day: Day 16

The Remnant Resonance (Ruth)

“What’s got you all hot and bothered?” his brother asked. “You haven’t lost your temper this bad since we were ten!”

“He hit her, Martin!” The words burst out of Charlie’s mouth like vomit, involuntary and foul-tasting. “That slimy, slick-faced crook smacked her in the face, all because I would keep visiting her, and she actually enjoyed talking with me!” Charlie’s fists clenched as he felt all the muscles in his body tense. “I’m going back there,” he stated through clenched teeth. “I’m going back and getting her out, even if we have to run away--”

“You can’t,” Martin interjected.

“Why not?” Charlie exploded.

“That would be stealing.”

“It’s not stealing! I’ll convince her to quit--”

“She can’t quit.”

Charlie squinted at his brother. “What do you mean she can’t quit? She’s an employee, isn’t she?”

Martin shook her head. “No; she’s his property.”

“What?” Charlie felt a coldness in his chest.

Martin sighed and shuffled closer. “Ophelia explained it to me one night when you and Ruby were busy giggling and mooning at each other. She had snuck into Mo’s office one night, and she found a deed of sale from the date when Ruby started singing at the club. She didn’t just come to work for him all those years ago because he saw how talented she was and he wanted to make her a star; her parents sold her to him, in return for his promise to give her a place to live, clothes to wear, and a weekly stipend for food.”

Charlie felt the numbing chill expand through his body. “They sold her?” He rasped. “Her own parents?”

Martin shrugged. “The way Ophelia told it, she said that sort of thing happens all the time when a child with a marketable skill or talent is born to a family too poor to raise it adequately.”

“B-but… Selling your child?” Charlie’s brain was shutting down at the very idea.

Martin cast wary glances up and down the street. It was well past midnight by now, but there were still a few passersby, and some of them gave the two brothers strange looks.

“Let’s keep walking,” Martin recommended.

Charlie shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and stalked briskly down the street. Martin kept pace easily with his twin.

“We have to do something about this, Martin!” Charlie fumed. He was always the more emotionally-driven half of their partnership, while Martin worked out the logical side of things.

“We aren’t exactly obligated--”

“Yes we are!” Charlie stopped and faced him as a car rumbled past. “That girl’s circumstances are shameful--what would be the point of knowing something like that is going on and continuing to go about our business as if nothing was wrong?”

“Charlie, what they did was well within the bounds of the law--”

“I still think it’s wrong, don’t you?” Charlie began striding again. He stopped ten paces later when he realized Martin had not bothered to continue with him. He glanced back as the older twin (by about five minutes) laughed.

“Slow down, Daddy Warbucks!” Martin teased. “I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up over a social issue. One may conclude that--” he stopped.

Charlie impatiently retraced his steps, closing the distance between them. “Conclude what?” he challenged his brother.

Martin laughed again. “Are you sweet on the Black Lily?”

“What? I--” Charlie’s mind betrayed him, conjuring memories of her lively eyes, her bright smile, her enchanting voice, her intelligent conversation… “Maybe,” he admitted. “I just... “ The ugly bruise arose once more, tainting the memory of her. “I can’t stand the thought of that man hurting her any more.”

“Well, you can’t buy her away from him,” Martin said. “You couldn’t afford it.”

Both brothers began walking again, this time at a more reasonable pace.

“The thought never crossed my mind!” Charlie scoffed. “If I could just figure out a way to get her the money she needs--”

“You could marry her,” Martin suggested.

They stepped up onto the sidewalk that skirted the block containing the family apartment.

“What did you say?” Charlie spluttered.

“I said you could marry her,” Martin repeated. “She’s eligible, single--”

Charlie waved his hands in consternation. “I know that’s what you said,” he clarified, “I just never thought you, of all people, would suggest such a thing.”

“It’s logical,” Martin said with a shrug. “If you love Ruby, and want to provide for her and share your life with her, if you want to give her a way out of the life she’s stuck in now, what better way is there than to marry her?”

Charlie blinked as they paused on the short flight of stone steps leading to the apartment building. “That does sound logical.”

“Of course, we’ll have to wait until we finish our school studies,” Martin went on.

Charlie nodded. “Of cour--wait, what?” He glanced at his brother sharply. “But that’s a whole year from now!” He frowned. “Who knows what that monster will have done to her by then?”

“You’re no good to Miss Ruby if you’re stuck at the Academy for hours on end,” Martin pointed out. “That’s no situation for a married man. We’ll finish the term, marry over the holidays, and there you have it.”

Charlie’s frown shifted from pouting to pensive. “I guess that makes sense… Wait, we?” He only just began to understand the significance of his brother’s normally-cold logic having already worked out something as subjective as marriage. “You’re planning on marrying too?”

Martin scoffed, “Well, I certainly wouldn’t put so much mental effort into something purely for your benefit!”

Charlie chuckled as they entered the building and ascended the steps to the sixth floor. “Martin Joseph Burke, I never knew you had it in you! Who’s the girl?”

Martin didn’t look back at him as he remarked to the air in front of him, “You should have figured that out by now; it’s Ruby’s friend, Miss Ophelia Lake.”

Even more amusing than the thought of logical Martin discussing the topic in question, was the idea that the coarse, brusque Ophelia engaging in a dialogue over it. “You two have been talking about marriage this whole time?” Charlie wondered how he could have missed such an astonishing concept.

“Not the whole time!” Martin shot back. “Besides, you and Ruby haven’t?”

They arrived at Apartment 6G. Martin pulled his key out of the breast pocket of his jacket.

“When you’re ready to pick a wedding venue, let me know. I have a few fairly decent churches picked out, and you can always help me decide between them.” 

>>>>>>>>>>

NaNoWriMo 1K-A-Day: Day 14

Focal Point (Esther)

Tricia Carson’s birthstone was Ruby, so her principal interpersonal relationship trait was her ability to empathize and her overwhelming passion for the things she was interested in. Tricia’s star sign was the constellation Aristophanes, so her proclivity to art and drama made her level-headed in the midst of chaos. Her facial alignment (the width of her eyes calculated with the slope of her nose) landed squarely within the slim “Nearly Perfect” margins, which made her Beauty Quotient a total of 107--the sort of face people would expect for their digital avatars. Tricia Carson’s birthday was August 10, 2132, thus her Birth Number was 908, and Nine Hundreds were notoriously successful in whatever pursuits they attempted. Her Life Motto was “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” and her five-year plan included marriage, two kids, and a family business that generated enough for the next five generations of her family.

Tricia Carson was also completely fabricated in all twelve points of trait assessment.

Vanessa Decker groaned as the messages for Tricia scrolled and flashed and beckoned on every available surface. Her closet told her what to wear; her mirror told her whether she met the current standards of beauty, and gave recommendations on how to fix it; her floor told her whether she was gaining weight and recommended certain exercises and dietary alterations to maintain the peak physique for her age group and body mass index. What none of these things could tell her--what she wanted to know most of all--was who she really was. She spent so much time trying to be Tricia Carson, trying to give the outside world what it wanted to see--meanwhile, Vanessa remained on the inside, looking through the lens of Tricia and wondering if there was a perspective that belonged to her alone in all the world.

Reality was that anybody could “game” the “Multifaceted Individualized Personality Profiling System” that made the community organizers so proud. Vanessa had been doing it ever since she got too old for her father, Mike, to be doing it for her. It was just a matter of knowing ahead of time the list of possible outcomes for the profile, and deciding which profile Tricia would be. From then on, answering quizzes and making selections according to that profile was as easy as a gut reaction. Once the MIPPS Profiler “figured out” the basic parameters for her perceived personality type, it basically all but told Tricia what to choose and how to behave, anyway. Vanessa focused narrowly on only functioning within those parameters, only doing that which the MIPPS told her to do, so that it would continue to give her outcomes consistent with the carefully-manufactured Tricia Carson personality. She never understood quite why the facade had to stay, but her father had assured her, “If anybody found out who we really were--we would probably be arrested, or killed. At best, we’d be kicked out onto the streets of somewhere up north.”

“But why?” Then-thirteen-year-old Vanessa had asked. “Did we do something wrong?”

Mike’s eyes betrayed his fear, even as he said, “No!” His eyes shifted uncomfortably. “Well, not in a manner of speaking. Not exactly; not California law, anyway,” he finally admitted. He sighed. “Look, all I’m saying is that it probably would not work out for us if we had to… relocate.” He enunciated the word carefully, and with obvious distaste. “You’ll help me, won’t you?” He begged his daughter. “Help us both?”

Vanessa had smiled. “Of course I will, Daddy!” Chief among the traits listed in her Personality Profile was the ability to be flexible in the face of small, short-term, situational changes, but the total lack thereof in larger, long-term, lifestyle changes. Staying there in Paristown, California was fine by her. She didn’t see them moving anywhere soon, as long as they kept their heads down and continued to blend in. 
>>>>>>>

The Remnant Resonance (Ruth)

Ophelia grunted and stomped into the bedroom they shared. Ruby went after her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked her friend.

“Nothing.” Ophelia slung the answer like a dare: would Ruby take her response at face value and rejoin Nora with impunity, or would she stick around and pursue Ophelia?

Ruby sat on her bed. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Tell me,” she coaxed.

Ophelia sat with her back toward Ruby. “I said ‘nothing’; get on back to Nora. A death in the family’s not easy to deal with.”

Ruby stood and inched closer to Ophelia’s bed. “You’re family too, Fee. We’re sisters, remember?”

“No we ain’t!” Ophelia’s broad shoulders flinched, and Ruby could hear the sobs in her voice. She sat down on the other side of the bed and put a hand on Ophelia’s back.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’!” Ophelia snapped. She put her hands over her face and continued to sob.

Ruby inched closer, putting her arms around Ophelia while the latter sobbed in quick, forceful gasps. “It’s all right, you can tell me,” Ruby said. “It’s been a while since we talked. Is it hard work at the factory?”

Ophelia shrugged her away and wrapped her own arms around her stomach. “I ain’t at the factory no more; they fired me two months after Martin...”

Was that why she was avoiding them? “You’ve been out of work for the last six months? Oh, you poor thing! Why didn’t you tell us?”

“No!” Ophelia stood up and stomped toward the window, still keeping her arms tight across her body. “I didn’t like it there anyway. They never treated me very nice.” She still wouldn’t look at Ruby.

“So why wouldn’t you want to come with us to Mississippi? If you’re not working, you could just stay with us and help me get Nora settled--”

“I ain’t comin’ with you,” Ophelia stated.

“Why?”

Ophelia sniffed and tried to raise her chin and shake off the sadness. “I got me a new job.”

“Where at?”

“Club Mo.”

“Ophelia!” Ruby rocketed right off the bed and to her feet. “Why did--How could you--We promised each other we’d never go back there!”

“It’s not like I had a goddam choice!” Ophelia fired back, whirling around and spreading her arms wide. “I got my own family to think about!”

Ruby gazed down at the center of Ophelia’s torso, where the extra thickness could easily be mistaken for folds of fabric. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Oh, Fee!” Ruby stepped forward and tried to smile. “I had no idea--but how? It’s not Martin’s--”

“No, it ain’t.” Ophelia wrapped her arms around the bump again. “We tried… I tried…” Her face scrunched up again and she began to cry anew. “Guess I’m not the marrying type. Just my luck, only an unmarried man could get me pregnant.”

“Who is it?” Ruby asked, but the query only made Ophelia cry even harder.

“I-it-it’s-s… B-b-Big Mo’s! I’m carrying Mo Abner’s baby!”