The Promise of Forgiveness (16 page)

T
he greasy smell of funnel cakes and fried okra on a stick socked Ruby in the nose Friday night as she passed through the gates of the Texas County, Oklahoma, fair.

“Let's move before we're trampled.” Joe grasped Ruby's hand and pulled her after him, bypassing the group of teens hanging out near the entrance. “What rides do you want to go on, Mia?” He nodded to the growing line at the ticket booth.

Ruby pulled money from her pocket and handed it to Joe. “See how many tickets fifty dollars will buy.”

After Joe walked off, Mia opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

“What is it?” Ruby asked.

“Nothing.” Mia tugged Hank's shirtsleeve. “Will you go on the Ferris wheel with me?”

“I think I can handle that.”

“What about you, Mom? Are you gonna go on any rides?”

“Nope,” Ruby said, hurt that Mia didn't want to ride the Ferris wheel with her. “I'm more interested in eating funnel cake.”

“Mom's got a sweet tooth.”

“Me too.” Hank flashed his gums. “That's the reason I'm missing half my teeth.”

“A dentist will make you false teeth,” Mia said.

“I don't care to have anyone stick their fingers in my mouth.”

As Ruby listened to Mia and Hank's banter, she found it difficult to believe that only two weeks had passed since she and her daughter had arrived at the Devil's Wind. The emotional toll their visit was taking on Ruby made the fourteen days feel like fourteen months.

“The concert's at ten o'clock,” Hank said. “We'll want to get out of here before then.”

Fine by Ruby. She could use a decent night's sleep before she went into work tomorrow. “Let's meet back here at nine.” She caught her daughter's eye. “Text me if
anything
”—meaning if
Hank
—“happens.”

Mia nodded in understanding.

“Here you go.” Joe handed Mia a roll of tickets.

“That's more than fifty dollars' worth,” Ruby said.

“I bought a few extra.” He tore off a strip and said, “In case you and I want to go on any rides.”

“Have fun, you two.” Ruby meandered off, and Joe followed her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You seem upset.”

“I am.” They got in line at the cake stand. “Mia and I always ride the Ferris wheel together, but Hank won the honor tonight.”

Joe's hand slid inside hers, and he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “You're a good mother, Ruby.”

No one had ever said that to her before. “Nice of you to think that, but—”

“I don't think it. I know it. Even though you and Mia are going through a tough time, she wouldn't test you the way she does if she didn't trust that you love her.”

Trust that you love her
. How was it that a fourteen-year-old knew more about trusting another person than a thirty-one-year-old?

“If my son were alive today, I'd hope he'd feel secure enough in my love for him that he could challenge me the way Mia's challenging you.” Joe's gaze shifted to the big wheel turning circles behind them.

She slid her arm through his. “You rode the Ferris wheel with Aaron, didn't you?”

“Yes.” They moved forward in line. “Melanie was afraid of heights.”

Had Ruby known the carnival would bring back painful memories for Joe, she wouldn't have coaxed him to come along. He stepped up to the window and ordered a funnel cake and a bottle of water. Ruby let him pay.

“Thanks.” She tore off a piece of the sweet dough and offered it to him. They ambled past the gaming booths, stopping to watch a little girl toss Ping-Pong balls into goldfish bowls filled with colored water.

“My parents took me to the 4-H fair every year,” Ruby said.

“Mia mentioned her grandparents died in a car wreck.”

“It was the craziest thing. My father made a living driving a long-haul truck, and he and my mother ended up getting killed in a head-on collision with a semi that crossed the center line.”

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen. Mia was three months.”

“That must have been rough.”

“It was.” But she'd had help from her mother's hair clients. Several ladies had volunteered to babysit Mia while Ruby worked. Then, when Mia turned two, Ruby left her with a friend who ran a daycare in her house. Ruby had been so exhausted from work and taking care of a toddler that she hadn't had time to properly mourn her parents' deaths. “What about your folks. Are they alive?”

“My father died of cancer before Aaron was born. I'd like to believe he's looking after my son.” Joe watched his feet as they walked. “That is, if there is a heaven.”

Heaven
. Aside from baptizing Mia in the First Congregational Church, Ruby hadn't spent much time pondering religion. Her mother had placed a cross above the door inside their mobile home, but they'd attended church services only on Christmas Eve and Easter Sunday. When Ruby entered middle school, they'd stopped going to Sunday services altogether.

“I've never been a religious man.” Joe placed his hand against her back and guided her away from a group of teens congregating in the middle of the runway. “But after Aaron died, I needed to believe that he was still a breathing, thinking, feeling . . . being. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that he didn't exist anymore.”

She understood. Only in death would Ruby find out if she'd be reunited with her adoptive parents. If there was life after death—a meet-and-greet somewhere above the clouds—then she'd ask her folks why they hadn't told her she'd been adopted.

Read the diary
. Ruby would never know if her mother had written about her adoption unless she opened the journal. “What about your mother, Joe?”

“She lives with my sister and her husband on their farm in Nebraska.”

“How often do you see your family?”

“I talk to my mom once a month and I spend a few days with them at Christmas.”

They left the games behind and took a path that led to the carnival sideshows. She pointed to a sign outside one of the colored tents. “We can see the world's hairiest man or”—she wagged her finger at the red canvas—“have our fortunes told.”

“How about neither.”

“Don't be a chicken.” She stopped in front of the red tent. “Let's have our palms read.”

“No, thanks. The last time I went to a fortune-teller, she said I'd marry Becky Montrose.”

“When was that?”

“Fifth-grade spring-fling fund-raiser at school.”

Ruby laughed. “Who did Becky end up marrying?”

“My best friend.”

“Really?”

“Jared and Becky dated their senior year of high school, then got hitched right after graduation.”

“Do you mind waiting for me?” she asked.

“Don't forget I warned you.” He released her hand when the tent flap opened and two giggling teenage girls stepped into view.

“I've been expecting you, Ruby.” Big Dan wore a black cape and a purple turban on his head.

Why wasn't she surprised that Unforgiven's soothsayer worked at the fair? “I thought your days as a carnie were behind you.”

“I have friends who travel with this company and they invite me to perform every summer.”

“How did you know I'd be here?” She hadn't told Stony her plans for the night.

“Everyone loves a carnival.” He held open the curtain.

Ruby glanced at Joe. “Still want to sit this one out?”

“Yep. Have fun.”

She slipped inside the tent, where two oscillating fans moved the air around. Big Dan lowered the flap, then nodded to the table covered in white fabric. A shiny crystal ball and a deck of tarot cards awaited Ruby. She pulled out a chair and he sat across from her.

He pushed the ends of his cape aside. “Give me your hand.”

She rested her forearms on the table, palms facing up.

He gripped Ruby's fingers with his pudgy digits, then leaned over and studied her palms. Tiny puffs of air escaped his nose and tickled her skin. “The left hand shows potential and the right hand reveals what you've done with that potential.” He peered up at her. “The left are the gifts God gives you. The right is what you do with those gifts.”

Oh, brother
.

“Your hands are clammy.” His snowy eyebrows twitched. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No. It's hot in here.”

“People with clammy hands are lazy and unstable but well intentioned.”

She wasn't lazy. She'd been employed most of her adult life.

“You're a Pisces. Your zodiac element is water.” He shook his head and the turban wobbled. “But your hands are air.”

“I don't understand.”

He ignored her and said, “You have rectangular palms with long fingers. And your skin is dry.”

Of course it was dry—she had the hangnails to prove it. He tightened his grip. “You have toxic levels of nervous energy.”

That didn't surprise her, seeing how her life had been no walk in the park.

“You hide your true feelings from others and you don't trust easily.” His stare unnerved her. “And you have trouble with relationships.”

Big Dan was creeping her out.

He traced a wrinkle that cut across her palm. “The head line is straight, which means you're practical and a realist.”

Amen to that
.

“But there's a circle in your head line.”

She held her breath—so far his analysis of her personality was hardly flattering.

“You're experiencing an emotional crisis.”

That was a no-brainer. Anyone could make that assumption if they knew she'd traveled to Oklahoma to confront her biological father. “What else can you see?”

“The heart line . . .” He made a clucking sound. “You're selfish when it comes to love, Ruby.” He ran his finger across the skin below her pinkie. “The heart line breaks here.”

“And that means what?”

“That you've suffered an emotional trauma in the past.”

Ruby considered how her relationship with Glen Baxter had changed overnight and attributed that to the break in her heart line. If the falling-out with her adoptive father wasn't enough to sever the line completely, then learning she'd been adopted had finished the job.

“I'll read your life line and fate line together.” He pulled in a deep breath. “The life line swoops in a generous curve, which means you're stronger than you think. This break”—he pressed down on her palm—“shows that you will experience a major change in your life.”

Big deal. Life was all about changes. So far Ruby wasn't impressed with the seer's reading.

He flicked the tip of his finger over her jagged nail. “Short nails are not good.”

She couldn't remember the last time her nails had been long—probably high school, when she'd dated Dylan.

“You're distrustful and sarcastic.”

Darn, he was blunt.

But it was true. She was suspicious of every man that came into her life.

“Maybe I have good reason to be wary.” She'd liked to see Big Dan walk a mile in her shoes.

“Cora never had a bad word to say about anyone.”

“Yeah, Cora was perfect. So perfect she abandoned her baby.” Ruby yanked her hands free and crossed her arms over her chest, as if the action would block Big Dan from seeing into her soul.

“We're not finished,” he said.

She was tempted to end the session, but his compelling gaze kept her fanny glued to the chair and she gave him her hands again.

He frowned.

“Now what?”

“Your Venus mount is flat.”

She smiled. “That sounds X-rated.”

He didn't find her sense of humor amusing. “The flesh at the base of your thumb is level, not puffy, which means you have little or no interest in family.”

“Now I know you're full of shit.”
Family
was the reason Ruby had changed her plans and stopped in Unforgiven.
Family
was the reason she'd turned down the job in Elkhart and was serving drinks to a bunch of randy roughnecks at the Possum Belly Saloon.
Family
was the reason she was giving Hank a chance to be a father and a grandfather.

Big Dan tapped the area beneath her index finger. “This is even. You have no self-confidence.”

Like an old-fashioned movie reel, all of Ruby's exes played through her mind.

He rubbed his thumb over the base of her middle finger. “I'm not surprised the skin is higher here.” His gaze pinned her. “You're stubborn and you like being alone.”

What did he mean—being alone? She'd never gone more than a couple of months between boyfriends. But if Big Dan referred to the fact that she'd rather keep her heart to herself, then she couldn't deny that.