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"What in all tarnation are you doin' walking along this highway in the dead of night?" he demanded. "Don't you know how dangerous that is?"
"I'm going home," I said.
"And where's that?"
"Houma."
He roared. "You're planning on walking to Houma?"
"Yes sir," I said in a sorrowful voice. The realization of just how many miles I had to go set in when he laughed at me.
"Well, you're in luck. I'm passing through Houma," he said, and swung the door open. "Git yourself up and in here. Come on," he added, when I hesitated, "fore I change my mind."
I stepped up and into the truck and closed the door. "Now how is it a girl your age is walkin' all by herself on this highway?" he asked, without taking his eyes off the road. He looked like a man in his fifties and had some gray hair mixed in with his dark brown.
"I just decided to go home," I said,
He turned and looked at me, then nodded with understanding. "I got a daughter about your age. She run off once. Got about five miles away before she realized people want money for food and lodging, and strangers don't usually give a tinker's damn about you. She high-tailed it back as fast as she could when a skunk of a man made her a nasty offer. Git my meaning?"
"Yes sir."
"Same could have happened to you tonight, walking this lonely road all by yerself. Your parents are probably out of their mind with worry too. Now don't you feel foolish?"
"Yes sir, I do."
"Good. Well, fortunately, no harm come of it, but before you go runnin' off to what you think are greener pastures next time, you better sit yourself down and count the blessings you have," he advised.
I smiled. "I certainly will do that," I said.
"Well, no harm done," he said. "Truth is, when I was about your age. . . no," he added, looking at me again, "I guess younger. . . I done run off myself." He laughed at the memory and then began to tell me his story. I realized that driving a truck for long distances was a lonely life, and this kind man had picked me up for the company as much as to do a good deed.
By the time we'd pulled into Houma, I had learned how he and his family had left Texas, where he had gone to school, why he'd married his childhood sweetheart, how he'd built his own home, and how he'd become a truck driver. He wasn't aware of how much he had been talking until he brought the truck to a stop.
"Tarnation! We're here already and I didn't even ask you your name, did I?"
"It's Ruby," I said. And then, as if to
symbolically emphasize my return, I added, "Ruby Landry," for I was a Landry again as far as the people of Houma were concerned. "Thank you," I said.
"All right. You think twice 'fore you go running off to be a big-city girl, hear?"
"I will." I got out of the truck. After I had watched him pull away and disappear around a turn, I started to walk home. As I ambled down the familiar streets, I recalled the many times Grandmere Catherine and I came into town together or went visiting one of her friends together. I recalled the times she took me with her on one of her traiteur missions, and I remembered how much the people loved and respected her. Suddenly the thought of returning to that toothpick-legged shack of ours without her being there seemed terrifying, and then there was the prospect of confronting Grandpere Jack. Paul had told me so many sad stories about him.
I paused at another pay phone and dug some more change out of my purse, this time to call Paul. His sister Jeanne answered.
"Ruby?" she said. "My gosh! It's been so long since I've spoken to you. Are you calling from New Orleans?"
"No," I said.
"Where are you?"
"I'm . . . here," I said.
"Here? Oh, that's wonderful. Paul!" she screamed. "Come to the phone. It's Ruby, and she's here!"
A moment later I heard his warm and loving voice, a voice that I needed so desperately to give me comfort and hope.
"Ruby? You're here?"
