Unable to stop herself, Ruby’s eyes slide closed. Hot tears boil behind her eyelids, a single one making it past her lashes and sliding down her cheek. “You have children?”

  The tear is visible to Charlotte, her bottom lip quivering. She waits a long moment to answer, letting her own emotion pass, before saying, “Three. Two girls and a boy.”

  With each word the woman says, Ruby feels the air being pushed from her lungs. She can sense her resolve crumbling away, bit by bit, and being blown out to sea.

  Still, she presses forward.

  She has to.

  “How old?”

  Charlotte replies in rapid fashion, her voice with a bit of an edge. “The girls are seven and four. The boy is three.”

  There is nothing Ruby can do to stop the tears. Right now, in this moment, it doesn’t even occur to her to try. All she can think of is forcing air in and out of her lungs, of getting the answers she’s sought for so long.

  “Ruby, I’m very sorry for the way everything played out. I am. But that all happened a long time ago.”

  Ruby lifts her head to face Charlotte, her face soaked. “Meaning?”

  Charlotte pauses, pushing a loud breath out through her nose. Her eyes are glassy, though there are no tears. “Did mama put you up to this?”

  Ruby shakes her head from one side to the other. “Memaw doesn’t even know I’m here. I found your address on an old letter several months ago.”

  “So then what is it you need?” Charlotte snaps, defensiveness in her voice.

  The question, the tone, hits Ruby in the stomach.

  “I don’t need anything,” she says, her voice ragged. “I just...I just wanted to meet you.”

  For the first time, a small sniffle rolls out of Charlotte.

  “Why?” Charlotte asks. “To make me feel guilty? Make me see what I gave up?”

  Despite the tears flowing down her face, Ruby draws in a breath. This is the moment she has waited her entire life for. The next words she says will stay with her for the rest of her days, the ultimate one-time-only opportunity.

  “No. I guess I had to drive all this way to see what kind of woman could give up on her baby. What kind of woman could walk away and never once care to look back.”

  When she is done, Ruby sits panting, her entire upper body rising and falling with exertion. It wasn’t exactly the way she had planned it, but it was close enough. Her point has been made. There is nothing left for her to do but sit and wait.

  The words find their mark.

  A single tear stripes either of Charlotte’s cheeks, her hand rising and extending towards Ruby. It makes it less than two inches from her arm before stopping and hovering, unable to cover the last distance.

  Ruby feels the sensation on her skin, turns her head towards it, but just as fast it is gone.

  “Well now you have,” Charlotte whispers.

  The familiar burning feeling starts high in Ruby’s nose, the moisture working its way into her nostril. She can smell blood sliding down onto her lip, but makes no attempt to wipe it away, her attention drawn towards the sound of the kitchen door opening beside them.

  The sound of small feet walking across the wooden floor.

  A little girl emerges onto the deck, her hair pulled into a braid on top of her head. No more than four years old, she bears a strong resemblance to both Ruby and Charlotte, her large brown eyes staring at the visitor in their midst.

  “Mama, who’s this?” she asks.

  Again the breath catches in Ruby’s chest, her entire body on fire.

  Of everything she had tried to ready herself for, this never entered her mind. It hits her square between the eyes, forcing more tears down her cheeks.

  Not only does she have a mother she will never know, she has siblings that she is less three feet away from, but will never see.

  Charlotte stares between her daughters, open fear gripping her entire body.

  “This is Ruby honey,” she replies. “Can you say hi?”

  “Hello,” the girl says, her voice full of idyllic wonder. She holds her hands behind her back and rotates at the waist, oblivious and smiling.

  Ruby sucks in a breath of air, doing her best to compose herself. “Hi there. What’s your name?”

  “Jade,” the little girl says, drawing the vowel sound out several syllables in length.

  “Jade,” Ruby whispers, the single word landing like a sledgehammer into her stomach. “That’s a very pretty name.”

  “Thank you,” the girl says, pleased with Ruby’s response. “Mama says she named me that because I’m her jewel.”

  Charlotte’s mouth drops open, her eyes sliding shut.

  There is no holding back the tears, no damning the emotion surging through Ruby as she drops her head towards her lap, feeling blood drip from her nose.

  Jade notices none of it, turning to her mother. “Mama, I’m hungry,” she whispers.

  “Okay,” Charlotte replies, opening her eyes and running a hand down the little girl’s back. “You go on back inside sweetheart. I’ll be along in just a minute to fix you something.”

  It is more than Ruby can bear, meeting this family, seeing this woman be a mother for Jade that she never was for her.

  “That’s okay,” she manages to push out, forcing herself to rise. Dizziness grips her body, her legs wobble beneath her, but she makes herself stay upright. “I was just leaving.”

  There is no farewell. No telling Charlotte it was nice to finally meet her or wishing Jade good luck. There is only pain, the kind of pain that comes from years of neglect.

  Of having a life she never knew rubbed in her face.

  Using the deck rail as a guide, she stumbles down the stairs until her feet touch grass. Pointing herself towards the sound and smell of the ocean she starts walking, knowing full well how she must look to Charlotte and Jade still sitting on the deck.

  The mere thought of them causes her to pick up speed, her feet going faster until she is running, her legs quivering beneath her.

  Tears streaming down her face, pain bracing her body, she runs.

  She runs and runs until her body gives out on her, tossing her headlong onto the wet sand. There she stays, her head in her arms, sobbing with every bit of energy she has remaining.

  The drive from Petersburg to Virginia Beach is just under two hours. A straight shot all the way on state route 460, a person can make an easy day trip out of it and still have plenty of time to enjoy the beach.

  Even at that, it has been over a decade since Cole saw the Atlantic Ocean. Not since before he started playing high school football, when his time was still his own. Certainly not since his mother passed, when he lost the inclination for such things.

  His memories of the beach are grainy at best, snippets of a life long since gone. He can recall sitting on a towel with his then-girlfriend Melanie, the two of them flinging sand back and forth. Remember his mother bringing a large picnic basket, all of them gathered round, grabbing up fruit and sandwiches. He can even pull up the hot sand beneath his feet, the feel of the water as it ran onto the beach and swirled around his ankles.

  As best he can call to mind though, never once did he feel anything like he does in this moment.

  Maybe it’s the enormity of the situation. Maybe it’s the week spent with Ruby. Maybe it’s even the fact that for the first time in a long time he’s managed to shove aside the wall of hatred that insulates him and look at the world through clear eyes.

  Whatever the reason, he can’t remember ever sitting beside the Atlantic and feeling the awe that he feels welling inside him while staring out at the Pacific. Even on a cloudy day, the water shines aquamarine blue, one color with a hundred different shades. It shifts and roils against itself, always in a battle for the top position, ever transitioning.

  Starting as far out as his eyes can see, the waves roll, building in one unending journey. Slow or fast, it doesn’t matter, the water shifting towards him, rising, climbing, before depositing itself in a perfect curl not thirty yards from where he sits, the remnants of it splashing up onto shore, as calm and peaceful as can be.

  The sand is grittier than he remembers, the particles larger, flecked with pulverized stone and corral. One at a time he scoops up large handfuls and lets them run between his fingers, the grains sifting down in columns. He watches as they form misshapen piles by his feet before scooping them up and doing it again.

  Ruby can take whatever time she needs. He could do this all day long.

  Somewhere in Virginia right now it is nearing one hundred degrees, the humidity close to triple digits as well. There is no trace of that as Cole sits on the beach though, the cool ocean breeze in his face, the smell of salt and sand in his nostrils.

  He deposits the last of the scoop from his hands and leans back, his palms sinking into the sand behind him. His legs stretch out in front of him, crossing at the ankles as he leans his face towards the sky and closes his eyes.

  Cole sits in that position for several long moments, drinking in the world around him. When at last he opens his eyes, the pristine beauty of it all floods out of him, his senses no longer concerned with the sun or the ocean.

  All they are focused on is the object lying a hundred yards from him in the sand.

  There is no doubt the small, misshapen form is Ruby.

  Pushing himself to his feet, Cole moves forward as fast as he can, his legs churning, throwing sand as he goes. His quads tingle and his lungs burn as he runs, closing the gap between them one agonizing step at a time. He slides to a stop next to her, his body cutting a trench through the sand, chest fighting for air.

  “Ruby,” he whispers, his voice just audible over the ocean and his own panting.

  Ruby gives no indication that she even knows he’s there.

  Her frail body is pitched face forward on the sand, her legs curled up beside her. The side of her head rests on her left bicep, tears streaming from her eyes.

  Twin lines of blood run from her nose.

  “Ruby, what happened?”

  There is still no response, Ruby’s muffled sobs her only sound.

  Reaching out, he lays a hand on her ribs and pauses, waiting for some sort of reaction. When there is none, he stands and slides a hand behind her knees, the other behind her shoulders. He lifts her slight frame from the ground, rocking her back against him, and carries her towards the car.

  Ruby buries her face in his shirt and cries, the sound stripping away Cole’s resolve with every step he takes. By the time his feet leave the sand and find grass beneath them, it is clear what he has to do.

  It takes every bit of Cole’s will not to stare at Charlotte still sitting on the deck. He can see in his periphery that she is standing up, her fist to her mouth, shoulders shuddering as if she is crying, but he can’t be certain.

  Right now the resentment he feels towards her for what she’s done to Ruby is too strong for him to care.

  The grass gives way to gravel as he carries Ruby to the car. He tucks her tight against him and opens the door, sliding her down onto the seat. The door clicks behind him as he circles around to the front seat, an amoeba-shaped stain of blood and tears on the chest of his t-shirt.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Ruby is almost catatonic in the front seat beside him as he drives south down the Pacific Coast Highway, pushing the speedometer hard. Off to the right, the sun begins its descent towards the horizon, but he doesn’t even glance over at it.

  Gone is any awe of the Pacific Ocean, any appreciation he had for California. In their place is a cold determination, a singular goal driving him forward, willing him to beat the setting sun.

  For three hours, Cole drives south, stopping just once for gas. In the attached mini-mart he picks up bottles of water and some fruit, but neither one touch them. Both sit silent, staring straight ahead.

  More than once he wonders what happened, but doesn’t dare ask.

  The clock on the dash reads just before seven o’clock as the lights of San Francisco make their first appearance over the horizon. The sight of an end goal within reach spurs a renewed strength in Cole, causing him to lean forward over the wheel, his foot pressed a bit harder towards the floor.

  The entire time, Ruby says not one word. She sits with her knees pulled up on the seat beneath her, a bloody tissue in her hand.

  Cole glances over at her as the Golden Gate Bridge passes beneath their wheels, the iconic red cables sliding by on either side.

  Cole leaves the cooler in the trunk, along with every other item that isn’t essential. He locks it all away beneath the burgundy rear hood, leaving the car in the long-term parking lot at San Francisco International Airport.

  With both duffel bags bunched onto a shoulder, he leads Ruby inside, going straight for the Delta ticket counter. He has changed his shirt and made sure Ruby’s face was free from blood, but otherwise they are exactly as they were when leaving the Neville house hours before.

  Grains of sand cling to Ruby’s legs, grind in Cole’s boots.

  The smell of salt-water emanates from them both.

  A middle-aged woman with dark hair held back by a pin smiles as he approaches the ticket counter. Nearby there are a handful of travelers using self check-in kiosks, all seeming to manage just fine. Cole leaves Ruby standing a few feet back, the bags at her feet, and offers his best smile to the woman.

  “Good evening, how may I help you?” she asks, a badge hanging from a lanyard around her neck announcing her as Suzanne.

  “Hi, Suzanne,” Cole says, leaning in. His voice is lower than usual, not wanting Ruby to hear him. “I need two tickets to Richmond, Virginia please.”

  The statement draws a frown from Suzanne. “Do you have a reservation?”

  “No,” Cole says. He leans a bit to the side and gestures towards Ruby with the top of his head. He doesn’t have to look to know how she must appear, her face tear-stained, her clothes hanging off of her. “My friend just found out there’s been an accident in the family. We need to get there as soon as possible.”

  Suzanne leans to the side just far enough to see past Cole and nods, concern on her face. She shifts back and starts in on the computer, the keys rattling beneath her fingers.

  Cole stands leaning against the counter, his wallet in hand, waiting as she works.

  “It looks like we have a red-eye out late tonight going through Atlanta or an early-morning one that connects through Philadelphia, both with seats available. I’m sorry, but we don’t fly direct to Richmond from here.”

  “The red-eye will be fine,” Cole says, opening his wallet.

  “The cost of getting on that tonight will be over seven hundred a person. If you wait until tomorrow, it will be closer to five,” Suzanne counters, looking up at him.

  For a brief moment, Cole turns his head to the side, glancing back over his shoulder. He sees Ruby still standing motionless, her body almost swaying, fighting to stay upright.

  He hears her warning about not having enough time in his ears.

  “The red-eye please,” he says, sliding his father’s credit card out and handing it over.

  Four minutes later the transaction is complete.

  With three hours before takeoff, Cole helps Ruby through security and finds a deserted gate, posting up on the end of an empty row of seats. He gets her situated in front of a large glass window and excuses himself for a moment, walking to the far end.

  Ruby doesn’t make a sound the entire time. Her system is on auto-pilot, allowing herself to be led around without objection.

  Cole turns and looks back at her, a sadness welling within him. What he’s about to do is against his better judgment, but it is the only option he has.

  Plugging his charger into a corner outlet, he powers on his phone and pulls up the recent call menu. The entire list is the same name and number, one right after another.

  He takes a breath and makes the call.

  Despite the late hour, it is answered after a single ring.

  Cole doesn’t wait for the voice on the other end to say anything. The moment the connection is made he pushes out a long breath and says, “I need a favor.”

  The conversation lasts just three minutes, the exchange less hostile than Cole expected. Not quite as amicable as he would have liked, but nowhere near the argument he was expecting to receive.

  When it’s over he stays by the outlet a few minutes to let his phone power up, watching Ruby the entire time. Once two bars of life are showing in the corner, he unplugs it and walks back to her.

  She hasn’t moved since sitting down.

  Cole drops his phone onto his bag and sinks down into the seat beside her, watching a plane depart through the tempered glass window.

  “Hang in there, Ruby. You’re almost home.”

  The front doors of the Richmond International Airport part long before Cole and Ruby approach them, sensors imbedded in the floor pushing them to the side. Even at just nine o’clock in the morning, the outside temperature is already stifling, a harsh reminder that their time on the coast is over.

  Wet, sticky air hits Cole’s skin as he passes into the harsh overhead sunlight, his eyes squinting from the glare. It has been almost thirty hours since he slept or changed clothes, his appearance making both very apparent.

  The morning rush, if such a thing exists at RIC, has come and gone. The foot traffic is light as they walk through, nobody giving them so much as a second look.

  The sound of a pained squeal draws Cole’s attention to the left, Esther running towards them, arms outstretched. Behind her is Maxwell, his black SUV parked along a painted curb, a pair of security guards standing nearby but content to let it sit where it is.

  Esther intercepts them halfway to the car, her arms encircling Ruby and pulling her close. She squeezes so tight Cole can hear the breath escape from Ruby’s body, but she says nothing to make her grandmother stop.

  She makes no attempt to return the gesture either.

  Cole stands by a moment, feeling a bit awkward, watching the two women embrace. Esther buries her face into Ruby’s neck and holds it there for several moments before pulling back, her eyes shining, and mouthing, “Thank you.”