She had wanted Ruby so desperately, so very badly. A baby, because then she wasn’t the baby anymore, and it made her feel older and more important.
And after the honeymoon phase she had started to resent her sometimes. Because she was loud and red-faced and noisy. Because Dahlia didn’t get all the attention that she used to. And she could also remember telling her mother that she wished that they would send her back. She could remember saying that she was tired of Ruby and she hoped whoever was looking for her found her. At that point she’d been a terrible two-year-old to Dahlia’s emotional six. And her mother had told her they’d adopted Ruby, and she was part of her family. Just the same as they were. And they could no more send Ruby back than they could send Marianne or Lydia away.
She didn’t tell Ruby that part. Because always, always at the end of one of those fits she felt terrible guilt. And then fear. Fear that that vague hope had made its way out to the universe and someone would come for Ruby. Come and take her away. It was like that always. A seesaw of guilt and resentment. The adjustment period wasn’t smooth.
“I never asked,” Ruby said.
Dahlia looked at Ruby, hard. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I... Dahlia, I know I’m not a secret princess. I know that... I do know that there’s something half-empty there. I just...don’t see how it would help me to know that. I’ve always preferred to just focus on the fact that I’m here for a reason, saved for a reason and...it makes me brave. It gives me a purpose and I don’t know what this is going to do for me.”
Ruby was sincere. Always. “Well, maybe it’s not about what it would do for you. I mean, Ruby, history is your thing. What does history do for the people that have passed on? Nothing. It’s about what we can all learn from it, right? It’s about...the way it touches us in the present. You and I both believe, so deeply, in that.”
“Caitlin too, though? I worry about Dana...”
“I would never do anything to hurt Dana,” Dahlia said. “You know that. But it would feel wrong to leave either of you out of these kinds of...retrospectives.”
“Hmm.”
“Do you object to being the subject of a retrospective?”
Ruby scrunched her nose. “I guess not. I trust you, Dee. I know you aren’t going to write anything that bothers me.”
Dahlia wasn’t sure about that, though, since it was clear a great many of the truths Dahlia saw in her sister’s past did hurt her.
Maybe Ruby floated so none of it touched her.
So her feet never hit the ground and she never had to feel it.
And Dahlia wasn’t looking to write a puff piece. She wanted to write something new, something that hadn’t been written yet about Ruby McKee.
About Pear Blossom.
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll bring back all the Ruby papers tomorrow from the office.”
“I have a scrapbook. Of me. I think I’ve seen everything there is to see.”
Dahlia shrugged. “Don’t you think sometimes you can look at something at a different time and see...something completely new?”
A strange expression crossed Ruby’s face. “Yeah, I... I guess that’s true.”
“What?”
“I’ve been feeling that way all day. I’m on these streets, and I know them so well. But I keep noticing things I never did before. Like the way people avoid Dana. I feel like Iknewit, but I never really...felt it like I did today.”
“So maybe it’s the perfect time to revisit things.”
“Maybe,” Ruby said. “Yeah, okay. I think...yeah.”
“Not exactly an enthusiastic buy-in, but I’ll take it.”
Dahlia had often felt out of place in this bright, shiny town, but she’d always felt connected to it too. It was hard to explain. How much she cared about the history, and how compelled she felt to dig into the secrets that were here.
After all, she was part of one of them. And she had the best resource right in front of her.
Now she had a mission. And when Dahlia McKee had a mission, she was never deterred.
7