Ruby's Slippers by Leanna Ellis Read Free Book Online

shiny and inviting.
    A hodgepodge collection of elasticized waistbands, flannel shirts, sweats, and orthopedic shoes gathers in my new closet. At least I don’t have to wear a hospital gown any longer. A group of women who shop weekly together at a local mall collected a donation and bought me some underwear, workout bras, and a nightgown. “We weren’t sure of your size, dear.” The woman tried not to look at my chest.
    “This is fine. Great. Thanks.”
    “And here are some socks with little rubber pads on the foot so you don’t slip or fall.”
    Moved by their kindness, I’m reminded of my friends and neighbors back in Kansas who would have brought me these things if I were still there. It’s then I wonder if any other farms or homes were damaged in the storm. But there’s no one to ask, no one with the answers.
    Gloria isn’t my nurse anymore, but she comes to see me before and after her shift. She’s not one to sit still, reminding me of Momma. Gloria tends my plants, snipping brown leaves and wilted blossoms. She’s so young and yet purposeful in everything she does. Watching her makes me wonder if I’ve wasted my years. Life, I realize, is short.
    “Why do you work here?” I ask. “With all these old people.”
    She straightens the covers at the end of my bed. “Oh, goodness, I don’t know. I love what I do. I like helping people.” She cocks her head to the side. “Maybe because I was raised by my grandparents. Maybe it’s my way of giving back to them. Sometimes I just think it’s what I was made to do. It’s my purpose. Does that make sense?”
    I remember Granny brushing my hair, tying it back with a ribbon which usually slipped out before the day was through. She had such capable hands, nimble fingers. Whenshe spotted a rip in my jeans, she’d find a cheerful patch and whip-stitch around it in less than a minute. She hated the T-shirts I preferred and once stitched scratchy lace around the neck and sleeves of my favorite one.
    Gloria turns on the television and finds a movie playing. “Have you seen this one?”
    I stare at the screen, recognizing faces but unable to recall any names.
    “You’ll like it. Can’t go wrong with Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse. Have you seen Brigadoon ? They wake up from a long sleep. Every hundred years.”
    “Sounds like my own life.”
    But the movie can’t hold my attention, which acts like a kite on a string, hooking right, dipping low, soaring among the clouds, crashing into a tree of confusion. Yet it stirs up glimpses of times past—Granny sitting next to me on the sofa on a Sunday afternoon, an old movie playing on our bunny-eared television. “Look at the stitching on that bodice,” I remember her saying. “That took some work, I’m telling you.”
    “Oops!” Gloria gasps. “Too much water.” She tosses something onto the bed to save it from a dousing. The base of the potted plant overflows. She grabs paper towels near the sink and starts sopping up the mess.
    My hand reaches for the shoe lying on my bed, the red hue vibrant against the white sheets. I touch the little round sequels … no, sequins. Granny made our Christmas stockings with bright-colored beads and sequins sewn on to spell our names. Abby liked to pretend they were her name in lights. I cup my palm around the short heel of the shoe. “Where did these come from?”
    “A visitor. Did they get wet?”
    “No. They’re fine. But who—?”
    “A gentleman, I believe. Signed in at the front desk, I’m sure. I can check for you.”
    I nod and balance the shoe on my palm. “These remind me of …” I can’t locate the right words.
    “The ruby slippers,” she prompts.
    “That’s it.”
    She smiles. “I thought maybe they might mean something to you. Kind of an odd gift.” She walks over and touches the red sequins.
    “Momma,” I manage. “No, my grandmother. Granny loved the movie.” I look to Gloria for help.
    “ The Wizard of Oz .”
    I nod. “She helped with