“You’ll be the belle of the ball my dear.” Her mother’s words sounded harsh and uncaring.
“But, Mother. Who will take care of Timmy?” She squeezed the child closer, hoping that some ounce of motherly instinct would sway her.
Her mother pointed at the boy. “That has been taken care of.” Her words were hollow and empty.
Ruby, sensing something not right, placed the boy in his cradle and stood tall, her hands on her hip. “What have you done?” She accused, trying to keep her voice calm.
Her mother glided across the room and out the door, but turned to face her daughter once more. “One week darling. Those dresses have to be paid for.” She continued out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
A tear slipped down Ruby’s cheek. Her mother knew she didn’t want to follow in her footsteps, but the woman didn’t care. Her mother had spoken often of the days when Ruby would be old enough to join her at the saloon; always referring to how much they looked alike and how all the men would go wild over their likeness.
Ruby glanced into a mirror. She didn’t see the resemblance much. Her mother wore heavy face paint most of the time to hide any signs of age, while Ruby’s skin was young and fresh.
Ruby reached into the pocket of her practical wool skirt and felt the letter which she’d been carrying around with her for several weeks. This was the letter which would allow her the chance to escape from her mother’s plans, the letter she hoped was God’s answer to her future, but her eyes shifted to the young boy in the crib and her stomach tightened. She’d been putting off following the instructions in the letter because of Timmy. She’d been praying about Timmy every day, wondering how she could leave him behind. She couldn’t leave until she knew Timmy would be taken care of, but so far, she hadn’t found the answer to that problem.
Lord, what did Mother mean when she said, “that has been taken care of”? She whispered to the God she’d learned to take all her problems to, then walking over to the cradle, she lifted the boy into her arms again. The letter crinkled but she tried to ignore the sound. She had to find a place for Timmy before she could become a mail order bride.
***
Ruby awoke when her mother arrived home that night. As usual the smell of smoke and alcohol lingered on her dress and filled the air in the apartment. Even her mother’s expensive perfume couldn’t overpower the odor. Ruby lay on the sofa, which was the only bed she’d ever known, silent.
She hoped tonight would be a quiet night in which her mother would simply shuffle through the small apartment and fall onto her bed in the other room. Ruby clenched her hands together, hoping Timmy wouldn’t make a sound. If mother had a bad night, any tiny whimper from Timmy could send her into a rage.
Through slit eyes, she watched her mother move across the shabby room. As a child Ruby could remember the once young and beautiful woman; now her beauty faded and garish make-up overly applied was all that made her seem lovely any longer. Ruby felt the age-old ache in her heart, for the love of a mother; something she’d never had from Sophia Dawson, Belle of the Golden Dawn.
Ruby too, had been a mistake. A child brought into the world without a father and barely raised by a selfish, grasping woman who insisted her daughter stay always in the background and take care of herself. Ruby often wondered who had taken care of her when she was only an infant. A memory of a clean faced maid flashed through her imagination.
Oh, if only that maid had taken me with her when she left.
To Ruby’s relief, her mother made it across the room and closed her bedroom door behind her without interruption. Ruby released the breath she was holding and tried to snuggle into the blanket which barely covered her, but it was so well worn and thin from years of use, she got no comfort or warmth from it.
Just as her eyes began to flutter closed, she felt a presence beside the sofa. Ruby’s eyes flew open and found her mother standing there, starring at her. Ruby pushed herself up, into a seated position, ready to take any action that might be required to please and coddle the woman.
“Good evening, Mother.” She kept her voice low in case her mother had a headache. “Can I get you something?”
Her mother only glared at her. “Ruby, do you know why I named you that?” Her mother’s voice was harsh, but also sounded far away.
Ruby sat up straighter, an inner sense of dread taking over. She didn’t answer, she knew better. The woman wasn’t seeking a conversation. She had something to say, and Ruby’s voice would only irritate her.
“I named you Ruby because of the necklace your father gave me. You know, he was a very wealthy man. Respected, powerful. He loved to watch me dance and spent months visiting me at the Golden Dawn.” The woman spoke as if from a faraway dream. “He took me for carriage rides, and to the opera. I was held up as the toast of the town because of him. He begged me to marry him. He offered me furs, dresses and trips to Europe, but I was so young. I thought being married would ruin my looks, take away my glitter. I didn’t want to give up what seemed like a life of glamour. So, after my refusal, he gave me one last gift.”
Her mother’s hand shot out; in it she held a long, slender box. With her other hand she
