Breaking Matthew (22 page)

I saw Sheriff Peterson approaching from the other side of the room, so I stepped over the railing and pulled Ruby up into my arms. I pressed her against me and kissed the top of her head. “I ain’t giving up, so you don’t either.”

This time, Sheriff Peterson didn’t pull her away. He stood off to the side and let us have our time together. It was a pretty decent thing to do, but I couldn’t forgive him for offering up the very evidence that would take Ruby away from me.

Mr. Oliver stepped away from us, and busied himself with papers. Mrs. Graves rubbed her hand up and down Ruby’s back. And I gently swayed with her in my arms. I had to fix this. Somehow. I had to make this right.

I stayed with Ruby outside her cell till the sheriff closed up for the evening. We didn’t say a whole lot to each other. Mostly just sat there, shoulder to shoulder with the bars between us. I held her hand, and she did her best to keep up my faith along with hers. I had to wonder if even Ruby might falter in her faith at a time like this.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

I closed my eyes and tried not to let in the terrifying images that had haunted my dreams recently. “Me too.”

“They’re transferring me soon. Sheriff said it might be as soon as tomorrow. Maybe the day after.”

My stomach lurched. I dropped her hand and leaned forward onto my knees. “I can’t let this happen, Ruby.”

“There’s nothing you can do. We have to trust that God has a bigger plan for us than this.”

“A bigger plan?” I couldn’t take it anymore. All this faith in a God of no action! I stood and gripped the bars to steady myself. “There’s no plan, Ruby. Except to let you die for something you didn’t do. And I can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.”

I pushed away from the bars and headed for the door.

“Matthew!” she called.

But I didn’t stop. I knew exactly what I had to do.

I drove up to my parents’ home as dusk fell, screeching into my usual parking place without my usual care. I slammed the door behind me as I jumped out of my car, not bothering to lock it. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, deliberately taking the stairs one at a time. But my rage did not subside. I pushed the door open and stepped inside the foyer.

The lights made a gentle humming sound, and I could hear the clink of silverware from the direction of the dining room. I slammed the front door closed, rattling the windows.

“Father! Get out here and face me right now!” I was determined to go no further than the foyer.

But instead of him coming out to see me, it was Mother who rushed out of the dining room. Her eyes were anxious, and she held out her hands as she came to me. “Oh, Matthew. You’re home. Come inside. Come eat with us, and let’s talk.”

I let her hug me, but I moved away as soon as possible. “Where’s Father? I want to speak to him right now.”

“I’m here, son.” He strolled out of the dining room still wiping his hands on a napkin. “What’s all the commotion about? Your mother and I are trying to have supper.”

“You’re going to fix this,” I said, marching closer to him. “You’re going to contact whoever you have to, and you’re going to fix this.”

“What’s going on?” Mother asked. “Honey, what are you talking about?”

I turned to her, knowing if I could get her on my side, I might actually stand a chance. “He had Ruby convicted of murder, and now they’re going to electrocute her!” I turned back to Father. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? Do you? She’s going to die because you can’t get your way on a business deal.
A business deal
!”

Father barely moved. “Get control of yourself, son.”

“That’s your answer?” I screamed. “To control myself? When you’re trying to rip my life to shreds?”

Mother came up beside me and laid a hand on my arm. “Patrick, is this true?” He didn’t answer, so she turned to me instead. “Honey, your father couldn’t have—”

“Mother, stop being so blind! He used Richard Moore to influence the jury for the verdict and sentence he wanted!”

“Now hold on here,” Daddy said. “I did no such thing. You jumped to that conclusion on your own. That jury reached the verdict it did because of the evidence—”

“You are such a liar! Do you even know how to be honest anymore? Tell her the truth!”

The expression on his face darkened. “Listen, I may have hinted that if it seemed a conviction was likely, that he should do his best to convince the others of what he believed. But I did not force him to do anything.”

“Patrick!” Mother gasped. “You…you couldn’t have known he’d be on the jury.”

He looked between us with contempt in his eyes. “Neither of you understands the level of commitment it takes to keep this family prosperous in times like these. Do you see our neighbors? Do you see what’s happening around here? Roosevelt has been re-elected, and he is only going to squeeze more and more out of people like us. I’m doing my best to secure your future—”

“At what cost?” I shouted over him. “Ruby’s life? Listen to yourself!”

He pushed up his chin and pointed toward the door. “I’m going to finish my supper. If you’re only here to parade around and make a big scene, then I’ll have to ask you to see yourself out.”

“Patrick!” Mother yelled. “What are you doing?”

“I’m eating my supper.”

He turned to leave, and panic surged through me. “You win, all right? I’ll do what you want! I’ll stay here. I’ll marry Vanessa. I’ll work for you. Whatever it takes. But you have to make this right. You have to contact whoever you can and save Ruby.” I walked over to him and stepped directly in his line of sight. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want.”

His frown deepened as he looked between Mother and me. “It’s too late.”

“What?” I said. “What do you mean? How?”

“What’s done is done. It’s out of my reach now. You should have come to your senses a lot sooner, when I still had the power to do something.”

Rage shot through me, and before I knew it, I had his throat in my hands. Mother screamed. I pushed him to the wall and held him there. “You are the most despicable human being I’ve ever known. You are not my father. Don’t ever try to contact me again. Don’t ever show your face to me again. Do you understand?”

He met my gaze with no sign of emotion. “Clearly.”

I let go of him and barged past Mother toward the front door. “Patrick, do something!” I heard her cry.

But I’d slammed the door behind me before I could hear another word. I ran down the steps and flew to my car, sending dust everywhere as I sped away. There was only one solution left.

I lost count of how many wrong turns I made before I finally found the Tipsy Gin. It was basically four walls made from cement blocks—none of them at right angles with any other surface—and a slab of tin on top that looked like it would blow away in a strong breeze. As for it being a gas station, well, it appeared to have had a tank at some point, but the roof over the pump had fallen in on one side so that it was unreachable now.

I pulled in next to the only other car there and got out to look around. The hour it had taken me to find the place had calmed my feverish hatred of Father, but I was still on edge. I stepped up through the makeshift front door, and was surprised to find a fully functioning store on the inside.

Behind the counter was an older man in ragged clothes making notes on a pad of paper. There were five tables scattered around the room, with four men playing cards at one, and two men drinking something not quite clear from mason jars at another. I didn’t look too closely. Not one of them stopped what he was doing, but I could feel their eyes on me somehow.

“Can I help you?” called the old man from behind the counter.

“I hope so,” I said.

He looked me over, and I was keenly aware of how my slacks and dress shirt must have stood out in that place. I walked over to him and tried to remember exactly what I was supposed to say. “Um…I’m looking for, um…a Mr. Harris?”

The old man went back to writing on his little pad of paper. “Never heard of him.”

“Oh, well…I was supposed to find him and tell him old Ironside sent me.”

“You were, huh? Well, it’s too bad fer ya then. ’Cause ain’t no one here that goes by either of them names.” He set his pencil down and started digging around behind the counter where I couldn’t see. “I can get ya a drink if you like though.”

I leaned onto the counter and folded my hands together. “I’m kind of in a hurry. It’s very important.”

“What’s important?”

“That I speak to Ro—old Ironside.”

He straightened and lifted a bushy gray eyebrow at me. “Well, then you’s outta luck!”

I searched my brain for the rest of what I was supposed to say. “I uh…I met him in the war. Yeah! I met him in the war.”

“That’s just wonderful. Now can I get you a drink? If not, you need to mosey on.”

I slammed my hand onto the counter as the rest of it came back to me. “He lost a leg! I mean…uh, it was a shame about losing his leg and all. Real shame.”

This time I could’ve sworn the old man’s mouth twitched just a bit, and his eyes held a hint of laughter behind them. “Sounds like an interesting fella.” He came out from behind the counter with a cloth and went to wiping down the empty tables. I waited for him to finish the routine, but he didn’t say anything else.

“I said, it was a real shame how he lost that leg in the war.” I was about ready to just speak plainly and beg the guy to help me, when he finally stopped wiping and stood up straight.

“Say there, which leg did he lose?”

I nearly jumped in the air. “The wrong one! It was the wrong one.”

The old man had himself a good chuckle. “You have a seat young fella, and I’ll be back in a while.”

He went behind the counter and brought out a Coca-Cola for me before he headed out a back door I hadn’t even seen. The other men in the store still hadn’t paid me the least bit of concern. I dropped into a chair at one of the empty tables and took a swig of the soda, letting the burn in my throat replace the fire in my belly.

Seemed like I sat there for a good thirty minutes, sipping my Coca-Cola till it was empty, and then watching the four men playing poker. I was fascinated how they played in nearly complete silence. Like a dance they all knew by heart. After a particularly long hand, I turned back to the table and nearly fell backward when I saw Roy seated across from me.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

After I recovered my wits, I found my voice again. “Just about as bad as it can get. Can you help me?”

Roy leaned onto his elbows and lowered his voice. “The boys and I been talking things over in case you showed up. We got some options, but we need to know where things stand.”

“The judge upheld her conviction and execution. They’re moving her to Wetumpka either tomorrow or the next day.”

“That narrows our options. Looks like our best bet may be to derail the transfer and get her over here to the caverns to lay low for a while.”

The older man whom I’d spoken to earlier—I figured he was Mr. Harris—set a mason jar full of clear liquid in front of Roy, who took a sip and grimaced. “That’s some a our best stuff right there. Want a taste?” He grinned when I shook my head. “Might need a little Dutch courage come tomorrow.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“Leave the details to us. Best to keep your hands as clean as possible if you’re running with her. That way, the law won’t be looking for two of ya. Can you disappear for a while? Affairs all in order?”

I nodded. “I got nothing to my name. No job. No family. I can leave now and never look back.”

Roy nodded. “Good. ’Cause that’s exactly what you’re doing.” He motioned for Mr. Harris to come over again. “Bring a pencil and some paper, would ya?” he said.

Mr. Harris dropped the pencil and paper at the table and disappeared in the back of the store. Roy wrote something down and then slid the paper across the table. “Sure you’re ready for this? Ain’t no turning back once this sets in motion. And it ain’t gonna be pretty neither.”

My stomach knotted. “You’re not going to actually…kill anyone…are you?”

Roy sighed. “Look, it’s best for everyone involved if no one gets killed. But things don’t always go as planned. And like I said, for your part, your hands should be pretty clean. So don’t you worry none. The boys and I are used to all this.”

My uneasiness grew, and I wondered what Ruby would say to Roy’s plan. But who was I kidding? I knew exactly what she’d say. She’d tell me to trust God. She’d tell me to believe that if I waited around and just prayed hard enough, somehow things would work out for the good. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t just wait. And I was pretty sure God wasn’t listening, anyway.

“Mr. Harris,” I said. “Is there any more of that moonshine left?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Ruby

The next morning when Matthew, Mother, and Uncle Asa came in to see me, I could tell something was wrong right away. All three looked as gray as death, especially Matthew. He almost looked sick. Sheriff Peterson walked ahead of them, looking grim as well. He nodded to me and stuck his key in the lock.

“We’re heading to Wetumpka in a little while, Miss Ruby. Everything’s set to go. You all take some time to visit. We’ll come in and get you in about thirty minutes.”

Mother, Asa, and Matthew filed past him. The sheriff didn’t even bother closing the door. Matthew turned to him and asked, “How far of a drive is it down to Wetumpka?”

The sheriff looked at the ceiling and furrowed his brow. “Well, usually takes a good three hours just to get to Montgomery. Then another half hour or so to get to Wetumpka.” He took a look over at me. “It’ll be a long day for sure.”

Matthew shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest. Then he shifted again. “You taking ’31 all the way down?”

“I reckon it’s the quickest way.”

“Would you allow me to follow? I’d feel better knowing she arrived safely.”

This seemed to unsettle Sheriff Peterson. He eyed Matthew with a hint of suspicion. “I can’t tell you where you can and can’t drive, but I’ll say this. I’d be mighty uncomfortable with you following behind us. It ain’t that I don’t trust ya or nothin’ but I think it would be best if you waited and visited Ruby in a few days once she’s settled in. You can trust that Deputy Frost and I will get her there in one piece.”

Matthew ran his hand through his hair and shifted again. “All right. Thanks, Sheriff.”

Sheriff Peterson made his way out the door, and Mother was the first to come to me. She wrapped her arms around me and stroked my back as I tried to hold myself together.

“We’ll be down to see you in two days,” she said. “Mr. Oliver’s coming too, and we’ll get to work on your appeal.”

She let me go, and we took a seat on my cot. Matthew remained near the cell door, his arms still folded over his chest. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, moving closer to us. “I just haven’t wrapped my head around all this yet. Just don’t make any sense, is all.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I talked to Father last night. I tried to get him to make this right. But he says he can’t. Says it’s outta his hands now. I should’ve done something sooner, said something when he first made the threats. I just couldn’t believe…”

“It’s all right,” I said. “Thank you for trying.”

He paced the floor next to Mother and me. Sweat had dampened the hair around his temples. Asa must’ve noticed his nervousness too. He shot a glance at me before calling on Matthew to have a seat.

“I can’t,” Matthew said. “I can’t sit still right now. This shouldn’t be happening.”

“I know this is hard,” Asa said. “But Scripture tells us God won’t give us more’n we can bear. He knows our weakness, and He wants us to rely on Him for our strength.”

Unfolding his arms, Matthew rubbed his temples. “What if He actually wants us to
do
something besides sit around and wait for Ruby to die?”

“Matthew!” Mother said, covering her mouth with her hand.

He cringed. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Graves. I’m sorry, Ruby. This is making me crazy inside.”

Asa went over to the little table beside my cot and took Daddy’s Bible in his hands. “Why don’t we read some Scripture together? I’m sure we can find some comfort in God’s words.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” I said.

Mother nodded. Her hands shook a little as she reached for mine. “What would you like to hear, honey?”

“I want a miracle,” I said. “When Jesus walks on the water.” Asa gave me a warm smile as he sat down and began flipping through the pages. “Read it from Matthew,” I said, glancing over at
my
Matthew. “That’s my favorite.”

Asa turned to it and began reading:

“And straightway Jesus constrained his disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him unto the other side, while he sent the multitudes away. And when he had sent the multitudes away, he went up into a mountain apart to pray: and when the evening was come, he was there alone. But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves: for the wind was contrary. And in the fourth watch of the night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea. And when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out for fear.

“But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid. And Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water. And he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus. But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me.

“And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt? And when they were come into the ship, the wind ceased.”

“Why is that your favorite?” Matthew asked. He’d finally stopped pacing and had been listening to Asa intently.

“Because it’s about me,” I said. “There have been many times when I was terrified of the storm I was in at the moment, but Jesus called me out of the boat. It doesn’t make any sense to step out onto crashing waves in the midst of a storm. Reason tells me to stay in the boat where I’m safe. But Jesus looks at me and says, ‘Come.’ So I go to Him. It’s all I know to do.”

Matthew leaned his back against the bars and slid down until he was seated on the floor. It was a while until he spoke. “I don’t know how you do it. Does your faith never waiver? Do you ever doubt anything?”

“Of course I do! Every day. I’m just like Peter. I step out of the boat and get swamped by fear and doubt. I start to sink. But I call out to my Savior, and He rescues me. That’s how I can face this. My Savior loves me.”

Matthew’s tortured gaze met mine. “Then how can He let this happen, Ruby? What good does it do for anyone? Your sacrifice will go to the grave with you, and then what difference will you have made? No one will ever know what you’ve done, except me. I’ll get to live with it.”

A wave of understanding passed over me. I stood and walked over to him, kneeling in front of him. “Whatever you’re planning…don’t do it.”

His eyes widened. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I don’t know exactly. I just
know.
I see it all around you. The fear. The doubt. There’s darkness all over you.”

“I’m
afraid
for you.”

“No, you’re afraid for yourself. Of a life without me.”

“You said you were afraid too.”

I took his hands in mine. “Yes, but I dealt with mine. I prayed for courage. Yours is the kind of fear that can leave you broken and lost. Don’t do it. Whatever’s going on in your head…just pray…ask for wisdom and courage. Please. Don’t lose your faith.”

Matthew

Don’t lose my faith.
How many times had she said that to me now? Seemed like she was more afraid of that than losing her own life. Looking at her there as she knelt in front of me, I could almost grasp ahold of what she was saying. Maybe we were in a boat, in the middle of a storm, in the middle of a great sea. And maybe Jesus was calling on us to step out of the boat. But what I couldn’t catch onto was: What was I supposed to do? Was it exercising my faith to sit back and wait for something to happen? Or was there greater faith in taking action?

She looked on me with so much peace in her eyes. That same way she’d looked on me all those years ago, the night God had healed me. Ruby had this presence with her that I couldn’t understand, like a bubble of
something
—love, grace, and fire all wrapped into one—that made me love her all the more, and yet kept her separate from me also. I didn’t deserve someone I couldn’t begin to understand. But I couldn’t imagine living one day without her, either. Did that make me selfish? Was I to be judged for considering my own needs also?

“Miss Ruby, it’s time,” Sheriff Peterson said from the door of her cell.

I jumped to my feet, shaken out of my reverie. Ruby and I stood, and she took my hand. “All right,” she said to the sheriff, “I’m ready.” Then she turned and gazed up at me. “Don’t do anything out of fear. If there’s no peace, then wait for God.”

I wrapped my arms around her, wishing I could slow down time until I could figure out what to do. “I love you,” I whispered.

Then I released her, and she hugged her mother and Asa one last time. We followed her and Sheriff Peterson into the lobby where John Frost was waiting.

“We’ll need you folks to step out now,” he said. “I’ll get all the information from Wetumpka for ya, and pass it on so you can go visit as soon as you’d like.”

He looked at us with expectant eyes, while we all looked around at each other like we couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Finally Asa spoke up. “All right then. Let’s go.” He wrapped his arm around Mrs. Graves and ushered her out the door into the parking lot. I followed behind, still weighing my options. I took one last glance over my shoulder at Ruby before I went out the door. She met my gaze and held it until the door closed between us.

As soon as I couldn’t see her anymore, my heart started to race. I had to decide, right then, what I was going to do. If I did nothing, and Ruby went to Wetumpka, there was still a chance her appeal might work, and she’d be released. But how long would that take? And what if it didn’t work? I could lose her forever. If I waited, and trusted the system to work, I could miss the best chance possible for saving her.

If there’s no peace
…

There was no peace with either option. No peace within my own heart. I only knew that living one day without Ruby would be the most awful existence I could imagine. I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t hope and pray for something that might never happen. Wasn’t that exactly what I’d done all this time? Hadn’t I hoped and prayed God would intervene? He hadn’t shown up.

I can’t wait.

As Asa helped Mrs. Graves into his truck, I ran past them towards the end of the courthouse, turned the corner, and headed across the street to the café. When I pushed open the front door, the people at the nearby tables stopped mid-conversation and stared at me. I reckon I was panting and seemed a bit crazed. I straightened myself up and moved to the counter on my right.

A gray-haired woman eyed me as I approached. “Can I help you, young man?” she asked.

“May I use your telephone?”

“Ain’t got one. You might try the office next door. Think they got one last year.”

I thanked her and hurried out the door. Looking to my left, I saw a small clothing store and a law office. I decided to try the law office. Maybe if they overheard something, they’d be less likely to repeat it.

I pulled open the door and went to the first desk I spotted. A young man in a suit looked up at me in alarm as I rushed toward him. “Is there a telephone I can use? It’s an emergency.”

“Um, sure.” He pointed to the black box on the wall behind me.

I thanked him and picked up the receiver. I took a quick look at my pocket watch. It was just after ten. A female voice came on the line asking for my connection. I pulled the piece of paper that Roy had given me the night before out of my pocket and repeated the numbers.

“Just one moment,” said the voice.

I glanced out of the front windows and saw the sheriff’s car pull out of the courthouse parking lot and onto the main road heading south toward Hanceville.

“Hello,” an unfamiliar voice rasped on the other end.

I tried to speak, but it felt like I had cotton in my mouth.

“Hello?” said the voice again.

“Yes, hello. This is…um…Henry Graves calling for Tipsy. I’m just leaving now, so I should be there ’round ten-forty or so. I’ll bring a friend with me, so there’ll be two of us.”

“All right then.” There was no wavering, just an acknowledgement of my coded message. “We’ll make two places at the table for ya.”

“I’m running a bit behind,” I said, indicating the signal that the sheriff hadn’t allowed me to follow. “Gimme a few minutes.”

“All right then. See you soon.”

And I hung up the receiver. I thanked the man behind the desk and ran out the door, across the street and back to my car. When I climbed inside, I cranked it and rested my hands on the wheel.
Lord, I pray I didn’t just make a huge mistake. But there’s no turning back now. Please keep Ruby safe.

I drove out of the parking lot and turned onto ’31, heading south toward Hanceville. I had just over thirty minutes of my life as Matthew Doyle left.

Ruby

At first, I kept my eyes closed and prayed as we traveled along Highway 31. I couldn’t look at Hanceville, even though some part of me wanted to. I reckon some folks might want a last look at their home if they were in my position, but I didn’t. I already knew every tree along every road, knew the “S” would be missing on the sign at Ashwander’s produce store, knew that old man Tucker would be in front of the gas station, winning at checkers. All I wanted was to feel God’s presence.