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    Ruby
    Ruby
    Ruby
    Ebook119 pages1 hour

    Ruby

    By Synae L. Cooper

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A Modern Account on the Book of Ruth. What could ever happen from meeting someone at a bar? Nothing good is supposed to come out of there. Or, maybe there are some places that could produce some good.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMORTIFIED BOOKS
    Release dateNov 6, 2017
    ISBN9781386302308
    Ruby
    Author

    Synae L. Cooper

    Synae Cooper has been writing poetry, prose and short stories for over twenty years.  She has always had a passion for the English language and its innate creative ability for expression.  Using that creativity to communicate The Word, the Gospel of Christ, has not only been a privilege and passion, but has also brought with it the highest sense of fulfillment.  Synae truly believes writing is her purpose and what will eventually help her to one day hear, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”   Her writing is reflective, hopeful, encouraging, and ultimately designed to point people to God and His Word.   She currently lives in Philadelphia.

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      Book preview

      Ruby - Synae L. Cooper

      CHAPTER 1

      Nema

      M arvin, Charlie! I want you two down these steps in two minutes; I’m not going to call you again! Stepping over Archie and going back into the kitchen again, careful to miss his tail as it swiped back and forth across the kitchen floor, pretty boy , I thought, as he chewed on a carrot stick. 

      Elliot, reading his paper at the kitchen table, sipped his coffee and glanced at me over the rim of his coffee mug.  Nema, they don’t get up in time, they don’t eat, he said.

      Cracking eggs into a bowl, Elliot, I can’t let them go off to school without a hot breakfast, no matter how mad I am.

      Folding the paper, standing, and bringing his mug to the sink, Sure you can, honey, as long as they don’t miss the school bus, skipping a meal won’t kill them. Elliot set his mug into the sink and put his hand in the midst of my curls, lightly squeezing the back of my neck as I poured eggs into the hot, buttered pan. 

      A moment later, I heard two legs and a set of sneakers thunder halfway down the steps, vault over the banister, onto the sofa, and then land in a loud thud on the living room floor as our 13 year old son, Charlie, ran into the kitchen, pulling his school bag over his shoulders. 

      Morning, mom.  Hey pop. Charlie said, reaching into the bread bag and grabbing two slices of white bread, using it to scoop some of the hot eggs out of my frying pan before shoveling half the sandwich into his mouth. 

      That’s still hot, boy!  I said, over my shoulder, shaking my head as Charlie winked at me with a mouth full of eggs and reached a foot out to gently nudge Archie under his chin. 

      When Archie acknowledged his own nonverbal good morning with a lick of Charlie’s sneaker, Charlie looked back at me, It’s cool, I’m late anyway.  Gotta go!  

      Kissing my cheek and taking another bite out of the egg sandwich, Charlie knuckle bumped Elliot, mumbled Later Pops, re-stuffed a few eggs that escaped from his lips, pushed out of the kitchen door, jumped down the back stairs and ran for the school bus as the screen door banged shut behind him.

      Marvin, Elliot called, moving to the refrigerator and reaching in to pull out a can of soda for his lunch pail. 

      Right here, Dad, I feel Marvin hug me from behind and reach over to grab a piece of bacon from the plate on the stove.  No eggs for me, Mom.  Mike is pulling up now. 

      Looking out the kitchen window, I can see Michael Strom, my friend Beth’s son, pull into the drive and honk for Marvin.  I don’t like you going to school with a boy who just got his license, Marvin.  Looking over at Elliot for backup, You should still be catching the bus, at least until you turn 16 next year, right Elliot?

      Dad, Marvin began, throwing his school bag over his shoulder and trying to back out of the kitchen door before I could offer anymore objections.

      Watching Elliot approach me, not even looking at Marvin, I give him a look when he kisses my forehead and says, Honey, the boys have to learn responsibility sometime. 

      Grinning and pushing completely out the kitchen door, Thanks, Dad!  Later Mom! Marvin called and ran out to meet Mike. 

      Elliot.

      Nema, Hazard, Kentucky is all of seven square miles and the high school is only two miles away.  Let ‘em think they’re really doing something.  They’ll be fine. 

      On a sigh, ok.

      I watched Elliot reach up to grab his hard hat from the top of the refrigerator.  I’m going to be late, tonight, Nema.

      I reached under the cabinet, handed him his tool belt, and then leaned back against the kitchen counter, folding my arms across my chest. 

      Taking the belt and swinging it over his shoulder, The conveyor broke down late in the shift yesterday and we had to stop production because we couldn’t move the coal already scraped from the seam.  Jack thinks we can make up the difference if we put in some overtime...what?  

      Just admiring the view, I say, with a sly grin. I love a man in uniform.  Forty and still fine. 

      Smiling and tugging me forward, Elliot wraps his arm around my still trim waist.  Don’t remind me, woman.  My birthday was only a week ago, but, I’m still not ready to say I’m forty with two teenagers.

      Wrapping my arms around his thin waist, I look up at him, It doesn’t bother me to know I’m thirty-five with two teenagers.  God has been good to us. 

      Amen, he whispers, leaning down with a kiss. 

      Love you, too.  I whisper, letting Elliot pull back and grab his lunch pail from the counter. 

      Elliot waved goodbye and I watched the kitchen door bang close for the third time that morning.  I turned up the TV; CNN had been muted while I prepared breakfast, and, sighing, I looked to the sink and began cleaning the dishes.

      When the dishes were done, I dried my hands on a dish towel hanging from the oven door handle.  What to make for dinner, I think, pulling out my trusty, tattered cookbook.  I sat at the kitchen table to start jotting down notes for the evening’s dinner.

      Morning, Nema.  Winona, walking through the kitchen door, says with a smile. 

      Hey, Winny.  Oh, hold that door open a bit, I see Archie wants to go out. 

      Looking at my beautiful black lab, I gestured toward the kitchen door.  Go ahead, Arch.

      Smiling as Archie trots out of the kitchen door, Winona pulls a mug from the drain board and helps herself to a cup of coffee.  Nema, I finally tried that recipe for pineapple roasted pork chops you gave me.

      You mean the one I personally penned for you last month, that recipe? I said, continuing with my notes.

      I thought it was too complicated, but when Jack started complaining about my chicken being boring, I knew I had to spice it up, she said, giving her shoulders a quick little shimmy while pouring and stirring some cream into her coffee.

      And?

      And, he loved it. With a grin, Winona sat down and sipped her coffee.  What else have you got for me in your cookbook of tricks? 

      No tricks, silly, it was just pineapples and pork chops; two ingredients that we already like, but just never think about putting together.

      Say what you want, but while you’re writing in that cookbook of yours, you can label that recipe The Palmer.  Winona said, taking a sip of her coffee.

      The Palmer?  Why?

      Because, she said, setting down her coffee cup, putting her free elbow on the table and holding up the flat of her palm, I had Jack eating out of this the rest of the night.  Laughing, we clicked our coffee cups in a toast.

      Hi, girls. Beth said, walking through the door.  Nema, Archie is peeing in your roses.  Beth said, reaching into the cabinet for a coffee mug.

      What?  Jumping up, I ran over to the door, and peeked out.  Bad Archie, bad dog! 

      Just think of it as fertilizer, Beth teased, pouring herself a cup of coffee. 

      Fertilizer is what comes out of the other end, Beth, Winona said.

      Coming back into the kitchen, I reached for the TV remote, Well, I don’t want either—pee or poop—in my roses.  I should have had the boys walk him before they left for school, I said, turning down the volume.

      No, wait, Nema, don’t turn it down, Beth said, taking a seat next to Winona.  They’re talking about why I came over. 

      I turned the volume back up on the TV as a local news station’s host replayed a nationally televised interview with a Democrat and Republican Senator.  The senators were debating the pros and cons of the Clean Power Plan’s mandate for states to reduce carbon dioxide emissions

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