Ruby pulled her robe tighter and cupped the warm mug, yet the warmth did little to alleviate her trembling hands. “Are you going to tell Dad right away?”
“Might as well. You’re pretty far along.” Mercy patted Ruby’s knee with a thin hand. “He might be madder than a wet cat at first, but we’ll have a sweet grandbaby to celebrate soon.”
During the filming in early February, Ruby had felt her baby’s first movements, which made her feel closer to Niccolò.
Yet with every passing day, Ruby became more worried that something dreadful had happened to Niccolò. To suddenly cease communication was uncharacteristic of him. No one was that ashamed of their writing.
Ruby blinked back the tears that seemed to spring so quickly to her eyes now. Niccolò said he’d taken a job in construction to earn money for his passage. Maybe he’d been injured at work.
Perhaps he’d been so severely injured that he’d died.
As Ruby pondered this thought, it slowly came into horrifying focus. She could think of no other reason that he would stop writing. Even if his father had forced him to annul the marriage—which she doubted Niccolò would do—her husband would have written to her. Niccolò was forthright, and he lived by a code of honor.
Or would he have been so ashamed he couldn’t tell her?
Blinking hard, Ruby bowed her head. It had been five-and-a-half months since he’d written his last letter. On the film set, she’d read in a magazine that if a spouse had gone missing, a person could annul a marriage by publishing it in the newspaper. A judge would have the final say. She wondered if that was the same in Italy. Did Niccolò think she was missing? Ruby sucked in a breath. She’d send another letter right away.
Her father walked in, banging the kitchen door behind him. “Morning,” he said, his voice rough with cold.
“Coffee’s ready, Harrison,” Mercy said, rising to pour a cup for him. “I’ll have your breakfast in a moment.” She hurried to the stove.
“I’ll do it, Mama.” Ruby reached for a blackened cast-iron skillet.
“You’re a movie star and you cook?” Her father shook his head. “How’d we get so lucky?” He chuckled at his joke.
Ruby shot her mother a look. Would he still think that after she told him? Doubtful. She and her mother quickly fell quiet. Ruby took bacon from the icebox and arranged strips in the cast-iron skillet. From a nearby basket, she scooped up several eggs—the production of their henhouse tenants.
While Ruby tended the bacon, Mercy opened the old Hoosier cabinet and reached for dry ingredients. She poured flour into a ceramic bowl, followed by baking soda and a dash of salt. Deftly, she cut cold butter into the mixture before adding buttermilk until it was just the right consistency for fluffy biscuits.
Harrison shivered. “Got more coffee?”
Ruby took the pot from the stove and refilled his cup.
Her father narrowed his eyes. “Why are you two so quiet? You’re usually babbling on about something or other.”
“Now, Harrison,” Mercy said. “Don’t start on Ruby. She’s just arrived.”
Her father shook his head. “If you two are keeping something from me, Mercy, I swear—”
“I’m going to have a baby,” Ruby said, cutting him off. His eyes bulged, and she had to get out her words while she could. “I got married in Italy.”
Harrison slammed his hand on the kitchen table, sending hot coffee splashing onto the wood and dripping over the edge. His face darkened with anger, and in a flash, he was towering over her.
Cornered in the kitchen, Ruby backed against the Hoosier cabinet. She was trembling, and every nerve in her body was on alert.
“I’ll kill that son of a bitch,” he yelled through gritted teeth, his fists raised above Ruby. “And you, you hussy. Just a cheap actress now, aren’t you?”
Mercy slapped his arm. “Harrison, stop it. That’s no way to handle this.”
Ruby saw her father jerk his hand back, his palm open. Before he could strike her, she slid to her feet and ducked away, instinctively shielding her belly with one hand.
“Oh, no you don’t.” With his face contorted in anger, her father grabbed for her legs. Instead, he caught her robe and yanked it.
All Ruby could think to do was to run and protect her child.
She slipped from the robe. Breathing hard, Ruby scrambled toward the back door and thrust it open, tripping over the back steps. Glancing back, she saw her father right behind her, ranting about her lost virtue and calling her names she’d never heard him use.
In an instant, rage over his daughter’s impurity blinded her father to reason. Harrison’s eyes blazed with a red fury she’d never seen, and his insults burned in her ears, rendering her speechless.
Pressing her hands against her ears, Ruby raced toward the barn, ignoring the icy air and the rocks that cut her bare feet.
As her father gained on her, he stripped off his belt and gripped it in his hand. “I’ll whip that devil child out of you,” he screamed with a savagery she’d never heard from him.
Ruby cried out in disbelief at his insanity, his crazed actions terrifying her. Did he intend to whip her like a belligerent horse? Her own father? Even a horse didn’t deserve such wrath.
Inside the barn, she flung open the stall gate to her quarter horse and swung herself onto Blaze’s bare chestnut back in a swift motion. Ruby’s breath formed clouds in the cold air as the horse trotted from the barn. Shivering, she clung to Blaze for warmth.
Still swearing, Harrison pounded toward her with his belt raised in his fist, cursing a blue streak. Her mother ran behind him, trying to stop him, but Mercy was no match for him. He flung her off his back and sent her tumbling to the ground.
“This is all your fault,” he bellowed at Mercy. “You’re the one who filled her mind with fancy Hollywood dreams.” He raised his belt to her.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” Ruby screamed. “It’s me you want to whip.” She gestured to him. “Come on.”
Ruby tilted her chin in defiance, goading him. Fearing her father would take out his wrath on her mother, she trotted past him, leading him away from Mercy. When Harrison was far enough away from her mother, Ruby turned her horse. Clicking her tongue, she rushed Blaze back to her mother. Reaching out for Mercy, she cried, “Grab my hand and get on.”
Glancing back at her husband, Mercy hesitated. “I shouldn’t leave him like this.”
“If he can’t get me, he’s going to hurt you. We must get out of here.” Tightening her legs around Blaze, Ruby clasped her mother’s hand and pulled her up behind her, using every bit of strength she had. In the cold air, the muscles in her back and abdomen exploded from the sudden exertion.
“Hang on,” Ruby called over her shoulder. When Mercy wrapped her arms around her, Ruby could feel her shivering. Whether it was fear or cold, she couldn’t tell. Both, probably.
“Hut, hut,” Ruby cried, squeezing her legs and lifting herself slightly on the horse. At her command, Blaze charged.
The frosty wind cut through Ruby’s nightgown like a thousand pinpricks. Within moments Ruby couldn’t feel her lips, yet she let her horse gallop.