13. Ruby
It’s awkward, and there’s no way around it. Ruby and Dexter sit on opposite ends of the same couch, him with a bottle of beer in hand, and her with a glass of wine. She takes a sip to fill the empty space between them and to give herself another moment to think of what to say.
He looks good. It’s been a few months since they’ve seen one another, and in that time, Dexter’s hair has gotten a bit longer, his beard has grown in and he’s trimmed it all so that it hugs his chiseled jawline, and he looks tan for November.
“I’ve missed you a lot,” Dexter says, elbows on knees, beer bottle dangling from his hands as he fixes his gaze on the coffee table. This is the most hesitant Ruby has ever seen him. Gone is the investigative journalist with the ability to dig deep into his subjects, make long, meaningful eye contact, and to move from topic to topic deftly. In place of those things, she sees someone nervous—almost boyish—who has things he clearly wants to say but doesn’t know how to. “I’m so sorry about your mom, Rubes. You have no idea. She was such a bright star.”
Ruby scoots forward on the couch and sets down her wine glass with a clink. “Thank you,” she says. Ruby stands and walks over to a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, admiring the titles on Dexter’s shelves. For as long as they’d been seeing each other, she hasn’t spent any time in his Manhattan apartment, and she’s taking it all in as he watches her.
There’d been a hug at the door when he opened it, deep and meaningful and full of sorrow for both Ruby’s personal loss, and for their shared loss in not seeing one another for so long. When Dexter released her, Ruby had immediately walked in and started to look around. A sense of pleasure fills her as she scans the small apartment and appreciates every item. It’s all so Dexter, and she’s happy to see that there’s nothing shocking, nothing out of character. If anything, his tiny home on Christmas Key—where she has spent time—is the place that’s out of character. Someone serious enough to have a shelf full of Russian literature, a clear interest in mid-century modern furniture, and a framed black and white photo of himself sitting across from President Obama in the Oval Office is quirky enough to buy a tiny home on an island that’s decorated for Christmas all year long is a bit of a disconnect. Each time Ruby visits him on Christmas Key she’s stunned all over again that a man as cerebral as Dexter North wants to take his morning coffee at a place called Mistletoe Morning Brew with a bunch of octogenarians. And yet she loves this about him.
“Tell me about this journey so far,” Dexter prompts her. He leans back on the couch and puts one ankle on top of the opposite knee as he watches her. “You started in Georgia with a beach house you never knew your mom owned, right?”
Ruby slides the copy of Anna Karenina back where it belongs and turns to face him. “Actually, it started in Seattle right after she died.” Ruby walks back over to the couch and flops down, feeling more relaxed now from the half glass of wine she’s already ingested. She leans her head back on the cushion and stares up at the ceiling. Dexter has crown molding and a very simple, somewhat masculine chandelier. “After I talked to you that day at her house, I went up to Seattle and met her oldest friend, Ellen. I learned a lot.”
“Such as?” Dexter prompts. “Oh, and all of this is off the record, obviously. And please only tell me what you want to tell me.”
Ruby realizes that she wants to tell him everything, and so she does—all of it. From the car accident and Ellen losing a leg, to her mother’s sister dying of cancer and Ellen making it to the hospital just in time to say goodbye. From finding the postcard on the refrigerator of the bungalow on Jekyll Island from her grandparents to these people who’d apparently owned the bungalow, to finding out about her mother, Bradley dying in Vietnam, and Trixie. It took her nearly an hour to tell the whole story, and as she did, Dexter got up, found the bottle of merlot he’d poured from, and refilled her glass.
Ruby kept talking as he shook his head and listened. She talked and talked, and as she did, her hands gestured wildly and she could feel the knots in her shoulders loosen up. Other than Sunday, she didn’t really have anyone she could talk this way with—not even her girls. Of course they were both beside themselves with grief over losing the grandmother they adored, but if there were things that a daughter never learned about her mother while she was still alive, then there were definitely things that granddaughters didn’t need to learn about their grandmother, even once she was gone.
“Wow,” Dexter says when she’s finally done. “I don’t even know what to say or what to ask about any of that. I think I just need to sit with it.”
Ruby laughs. “I hear that. Only I’m not done, because I just met with Carmela this evening. And we’re meeting up again in the morning for a full day of…I don’t know what.”
“The lady with the kids?”
“Yes. Apparently she and my mom met during the planning of a luncheon. My mother was on the committee for the nonprofit, and Carmela worked for the company that was putting the event together. They hit it off. Or my mom saw something in Carmela that she recognized.”
“I think it’s really admirable the way your mom built these lasting relationships. I mean, an elderly couple left her their beach house. Now, the circumstances around it were tragic, and certainly she probably would have chosen for her baby to live a long life, but it’s still kind of amazing that she meant so much to these people.”
Ruby is pensive for a moment as Dexter drains his beer. “Do you think, given the chance, she would have gone back and chosen for Trixie to live, even if it meant that she never would have married my dad and had me?”
Dexter nearly slams the empty bottle on the coffee table with the force of his conviction. “Ruby,” he says sharply. “Come on. You can’t do that. You should know better than anyone that you don’t get to go back and do those things over. There is no changing the past.” He stares at her long and hard, and she looks at her lap. “Okay, do you think Jack would have chosen to go back and not have Julien if he could have changed things? Do you think if he’d lived and never gotten a disease that you would have been able to sustain a happy marriage until the end? Would you wish for him to have lived if it meant that you never moved to Shipwreck Key, never opened the bookstore, never met me?”
Ruby looks up and straight into his eyes. “I?—“
Dexter cuts her off. “You can’t answer those questions, and you shouldn’t. Nor should they even be asked. We get what we get, right? Your mom landed where she did and met your dad and had you, you met Jack and got married, and ended up in the White House with two beautiful daughters, and then you were widowed, moved south, and met me. Boom. Here we are. To me, I like to believe that these things go the way they’re supposed to, whether we like it or not.”
Ruby shrugs and turns her gaze to the bookshelf. “It might sound terrible, but I think I like the way things have gone.” She looks back at him. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” Her voice grows softer. “I’ve missed you, Dex. I wanted you to come back to me because you wanted to be there, but instead I’ve come and knocked on your door.”
“And I’m not sorry about that at all.” He scoots over on the couch so that their knees are touching. “Not one bit.” Dexter takes her hand in his and holds it. “But Ruby…I think our timing is off to talk about all of this.”
Ruby slips her fingers from his like he’s burned her. She can feel her guard go up. “Why? Are you seeing someone?”
“No! God—no. I haven’t even thought about it. Are you?” Dexter frowns.
It takes everything Ruby has not to laugh; does Dexter truly believe that a fifty-year-old woman has men crawling all over her? Does he think that potential love interests are just falling out of trees all over Shipwreck Key? “No, Dexter. The thought hasn’t even occurred to me. Like I said in my email, I’ve been swimming, walking, and working at the bookstore. Thinking of you, and hoping that you’re thinking of me.”
“I have been,” he says quickly as he reaches for her hand again. “I’ve thought about nothing but you. But when someone loses a person who is as important to them as your mom is to you, you need to give them space. Actually, that sounds wrong: I’m here to give you love and support and to let you know that you’re not alone, but I’m also going to press pause on the relationship stuff with us until you work through this. Trust me—it’s the wise thing to do.”
Ruby can feel herself deflate a little; the notion of falling back into Dexter’s arms is more than appealing, but she knows he’s right. A major life change like losing her mother requires some time for introspection, for healing, for closure. And right now she’s on a literal journey across country to find those things, so splitting herself in two to start back up with Dexter might not be the best idea.
“I hear you,” she says, squeezing his hand. “And I appreciate your wisdom and patience.”
“I’m here, Ruby. I promise you. I just want us to sit down and talk about things when you aren’t carrying such a heavy emotional burden. So let’s be patient because we can afford to be.”
Ruby presses her lips together tightly and gives him a firm, resolved nod. “You’re right.”
After a long moment of holding her gaze, Dexter smiles. “Hey,” he says, “how do you feel about jazz?”
“I love it.”
“I know you have plans all day tomorrow and you’re starting early, but would you want to go to a jazz club with me? One drink?” he says, holding up a finger. “And then I swear I’ll have you in an Uber back to your hotel.”
Ruby stands up and slips her feet back into the shoes that she’s kicked off. “You’re on,” she says, tossing her hair over one shoulder and reaching for her purse. “Only I don’t want you to put me in an Uber back to the hotel.”
Dexter looks at her, confused. He waits.
“I want to come back here with you.” Ruby steps up to him and puts both hands flat against his chest as she looks up into his eyes. “For one night. It won’t confuse things for me, Dex. I want to be in your arms. I’ll get up early and head back to the hotel, and then I’ll take my time wading through all this stuff that has to do with my mom. Just give me one night…”
Dexter is gazing at her seriously, searching her face for clues that he should say no. When he seems satisfied, he nods. “You’re a grown woman who knows what she wants, Ruby, and that’s the thing I love about you most. I’ll bring you back here, no questions asked, and I’ll let you leave in the morning to take care of what you need to take care of—also with no questions asked.”
Ruby stands up on her tiptoes to press her lips to Dexter’s gently, and the instant she does, her body starts to melt. It feels so right, being this close to him again.
“Then let’s go listen to some jazz,” she says, falling back onto flat feet. “And have one drink before we come back here. I’ll be out before the sun comes up.”
Dexter grabs their coats and turns off the lights as they leave.