Out of the Smoke

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Yes, he did tell me that, actually. When we last talked about a month ago. He said that they were talking about ten to fifteen percent cutbacks in class load. No surprise there. Universities in Europe are doing the same thing. But he should be okay. He got tenure last year.”

  “But tenure doesn’t protect you against general university cutbacks due to the financial crisis,” Tina pointed out. Then she hurried on. “All I know is that he told Dad that he’s worried about his job there. Not that he will lose it completely, but that he may be cut back in hours or number of classes.” She hesitated. “Has Frank said anything to you about Washington, DC?”

  Celeste’s eyes narrowed. “No. What about Washington, DC?”

  “According to Mom, some government agency approached Frank several months ago asking if he would be—”

  “Several months ago!” she snapped. “Why didn’t Frank tell me about this? Or Edie, for that matter? The last time I spoke with her, she said nothing about that.”

  “Well,” Tina said tartly, “maybe that’s because Mom and Dad have determined to stay out of this relationship”—she emphasized the word with soft irony—“that you and Frank have worked out between you. They don’t carry messages back and forth for you, nor do they run and tell one of you what the other has said.”

  Celeste’s cheeks colored. “Of course not. Sorry. And I do appreciate that about Mitch and Edie. I didn’t mean to. . . .” She shook her head. “So what about Washington, DC?”

  “Well, when they first approached him, Frank said he wasn’t interested. That he loved what he was doing at MIT, the teaching and research. But with possible cutbacks looming, Frank called Washington back. They invited him to come interview, so he took a train down and spent a couple of days with them.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Then two weeks ago, Frank called Mom and Dad and said they had made him an offer and that he had accepted it. He was going to turn in his resignation to MIT the following day.”

  Celeste leaped up. “Two weeks ago?” she cried hotly. “And I’m just hearing about it now?”

  “Celeste, I—”

  She waved her off. “So he called your parents and told them, but he couldn’t be bothered to call me?” She threw up her hands, looking upward. “Thank you, Frank. I am deeply touched.”

  Glancing around, Tina saw that people were turning to look at them again, and again she felt her hackles rise a little. She leaned in closer. “Celeste, Frank did try to call you with the news.”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “When? In Paris?”

  “Yes. I don’t know the date, but he called and spoke to your mother. She said that there had been a change in your plans and that you left earlier than you had originally planned, that you had heard from a friend in London who—”

  “Oh,” Celeste cut in, looking suddenly quite sheepish. “This is a friend from my Wellesley days. She invited me and Reggie to spend a week with them before going on to South Hampton to board our ocean liner.”

  “Exactly. And when Frank asked your mother if she had a phone number where he could reach you in England, your mother said. . . .” This time Tina deliberately let it hang so Celeste could finish the sentence.

  Celeste’s face colored a little. “That I didn’t leave a number because we were going to be touring all over England with no set itinerary.” She was staring at the floor now. She finally looked up. “Tina, I’m sorry for being so snappish. It’s just. . . .” A long sigh. “It’s been a long trip, and our flight out here was horrible.”

  Tina reached out and took her hand. “It’s all right, Celeste. I just wanted you to know that Frank did try to call you.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad to know that.” She studied the floor tiles for a few more moments and then looked up. “Did Frank say what he will be doing there?”

  “He told Dad that he’ll be working for one of the scientific agencies sponsored by the federal government. America has formed a partnership with some other countries in the area of theoretical physics, but it’s top secret and he can’t say anything more than that.”

  “Oh.”

  “But this is where things get complicated. They want him to start in the middle of June. Which means that he can’t come out here to spend time with Reggie in August as previously planned. So he was hoping that you would agree to let him come now. Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to ask you that. So now it’s a done deal. He’s arriving by train in Thompson Springs this afternoon.”

  “So both of us will be there together?” Celeste asked. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Frank did say to tell you that he’s already talked to MJ and June. He’ll stay with them at their house and not with Mom and Dad, where you’ll be staying.”

  There was a long sigh, and then Celeste just shook her head. “And how do I get Reginald back east in August so we can sail back to France together? I may not be able to let him stay at the ranch all summer, and he won’t like that one bit.”

  “You’re not going straight back to France when you leave here?” Tina asked in surprise.

  Celeste looked startled. “Uh . . . no. I have some things to. . . . I’m going to be in New York City for a few weeks.”

  Tina smiled brightly. “Frank actually came up with a solution. Since I am now an unemployed schoolteacher, Frank has offered to pay my train ticket if I take Reggie back east in August and—”

  “Oh!” Celeste exclaimed, her head snapping up. “And you would do that?”

  “Why not? Frank will not only pay my way out and back but give me a daily salary, too.” She shrugged. “I need the money, and I’d love to have that time with Reggie.”

  Again Celeste was on her feet, her face now alight with excitement. “Oh, Tina. Would you really do that? It would mean so much to Reggie and me.”

  “What?” Tina cried in delight. “Celeste Westland, did you just call your son ‘Reggie’?”

  Celeste blinked and shook her head. “No! I did not.”

  “Yes you did. I heard you.”

  She laughed. “Well, that says something then, doesn’t it?”

  “What’s so funny?”

  They both turned and saw Reggie approaching them. The porter was just a few steps behind him with their luggage on the cart. When they didn’t answer, he motioned to the man. “We need to tell this man what to do with our luggage. He can’t wait any longer.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Celeste said. She reached in her purse and pulled out another dollar bill. “Yes. Please put them in the car now.”

  Reggie handed the porter the keys and described which car it was but didn’t follow after him. “What’s going on?”

  “Well,” Tina said, “I was about to suggest getting some food before we hit the road. There’s a coffee shop here in the terminal, but it isn’t the best. But just ten minutes from here, and right on our way, there’s a restaurant named Chick’s.” She turned to Reggie. “Do you like waffles?”

  His face lit up. “I love waffles!”

  “Good, because Wednesdays are all-you-can-eat-waffles-for-a-dollar-day at Chick’s.”

  “Really?” He swung around to his mother. “Can we do that, Mom? Can we?”

  “Yes, we can. I love waffles too. And when we get in the car, Aunt Tina has some good news to share with you.”

  2:25 p.m.—U.S. Highway 6,

  about Twenty Miles South of Price, Utah

  With a full stomach and the good news that he would see his father later that day, Reggie laid down in the back seat of the car after their lunch and promptly went to sleep. Five minutes later, Celeste was out too. That had been about two and a half hours ago, and they were both still asleep.

  Tina was starting to feel a little drowsy herself now and was considering pulling over and getting out to walk around a little. But she kept holding off because she k
new it would wake the other two up. So she held the car at a steady sixty miles an hour and fought off the drowsiness.

  “So I assume this means that Frank will be moving to Wash­ing­ton.”

  Tina’s head turned abruptly. Celeste hadn’t even stirred. Her head was still against the window, but her eyes were open and she was watching Tina. Seeing that she had Tina’s attention, she sat up, stretched, and yawned.

  “Yes. He starts there on Monday, June twentieth. So he’ll have to leave here early enough to take the train back to Boston, pack up his things, and take another train to DC. Mom said he’ll stay at the YMCA until he can find an apartment.”

  “What’s the YMCA?”

  They both turned as Reggie sat up and leaned forward between them.

  “Good morning, merry sunshine,” Tina smiled. “You had a good sleep.”

  “Yup!”

  “The YMCA is the Young Men’s Christian Association,” his mother said. “They have a place where you can rent inexpensive rooms.”

  “But Dad’s not a Christian.”

  “What?” Celeste cried. “Of course he’s a Christian. Why ever would you think he isn’t?”

  “He never goes to church. Or prays.”

  “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe in Jesus, or Heavenly Father,” Tina explained.

  “And besides,” Celeste added, “you don’t have to be religious to rent a room there.”

  “Oh.”

  An awkward silence ensued, and Celeste decided to change the subject. “There was something that really shocked me on the flight over here,” she mused. “One of the things that impressed me when Frank and I came out from the east by train several times was how green the Midwest was. Everywhere we looked, as far as you could see, it was this lush green. Wheat and corn fields in every direction. Rich pastureland for animals. Trees and bushes lining every little creek and pond. But yesterday, it was like we were flying over the surface of the moon. There was hardly any green to be seen anywhere. Just brown dirt as far as you could see in any direction.” She looked out the window. “It looked a lot like this, actually.”

  “But this is a desert,” Tina replied. “They get only about ten inches of rain a year in this part of the state, and it’s been even less than that these last two years. But the Midwest—I remember how green it was too.”

  “I didn’t even know that America was having a drought until we got here. I hadn’t seen anything about it in the Paris newspapers. But as far as we could see, it was just nothing. All brown.”

  “We’re experiencing a drought here in Utah too,” Tina said. “Wait until you see our cattle. You can count their ribs from the highway. It is so sad. But the papers say that we’re nothing like the Midwest. And they’re saying that it’s only going to get worse. Last year, they had only one big dust storm. So far this year, there have been three. But weather forecasters are saying we could have eight or ten more before the dry season is over. Dad is really concerned and—” She stopped short. “Which reminds me. Sorry, I totally forgot.”

  “What?” Celeste asked.

  “While you and Frank are here, Dad wants to hold a family council.”

  “A what?” Reggie asked.

  “A family council. That’s another word for a family meeting.”

  “What about?” the boy asked.

  “About our current situation and how we cope with it.”

  Celeste leaned closer. “Is it bad?”

  “Three things are really worrying Dad. First, the drought. We’ve not been hit as hard as the Midwest yet, but when we had the last big drought back in the mid-1890s, it lasted for five years. Dad and Mom lost a third of their stock. Others lost half or more.

  “Second, like most other farm prices, the price of beef has plummeted and is still falling. Our ranch is big enough that we’re holding on so far, but how much longer we can do so is anyone’s guess.”

  “You’re not saying you could lose the ranch?” Celeste cried.

  “No, but. . . .” Tina’s shoulders lifted and fell. “And the third thing is, Dad wants to talk about what we as a family can do to see us through these rough times.”

  “Gee willikers!” Reggie exclaimed. “That sounds really bad.”

  Tina smiled. “‘Gee willikers’? That doesn’t sound very French to me.”

  Laughing, Celeste turned and ruffled her son’s hair. “I’m afraid that’s San Juan cowboy talk, which is more deeply ingrained in my boy than Parisian French.”

  Then she sobered as she looked at Tina. “But why does Mitch want me and Frank there at this council? Especially me? Frank knows about ranching, but I’m lucky if I can tell the difference between a horse and a cow.”

  “Aw, Mom,” Reggie said.

  “That’s easy,” Tina replied. “This is a family council, and you’re family, Celeste. You too, Reggie.”

  “You mean I get to go to the meeting?”

  “Yup. All but the youngest grandchildren.”

  They drove on for several minutes with no further conversation. Reggie sat back and stared out the window at the desolate country they were passing through. Celeste was staring straight ahead out of the windshield. Tina could see the corners of her mouth were turned down slightly. Finally, Tina spoke softly. “What are you thinking, Celeste, if you don’t mind me asking? About seeing Frank tonight?”

  She straightened, appearing somewhat surprised by the question. “No. Actually, I was thinking about the family council.”

  “What about it?”

  A long pause, and then so softly that Tina could barely hear her, she said, “I was thinking how different things would be right now if my father had believed in holding family councils.”

  She looked away quickly. Then to Tina’s surprise, Reggie reached up and laid a hand on his mother’s shoulder. He didn’t say a word, just put his hand there. After a moment, Celeste reached up and put her hand on his.

  Tina glanced back at Reggie. “Are you hungry again yet?”

  “Yes! Starving!”

  “We have to stop at Green River for gas anyway,” Tina said. “That’s about half an hour from here. Shall we get some dinner too? The next choice would be Moab, which is another hour or so beyond Green River.”

  “Do they have waffles too?”

  “I think they might,” Tina laughed.

  Even Celeste brightened at that. “If they’re not all-you-can-eat-for-a-dollar, I don’t think I can afford to feed this boy.”

  4:49 p.m.—Green River, Utah

  As Tina pulled the car up in front of the restaurant and got out, Celeste and Reggie appeared at the door, arm in arm. “All gassed up?” Celeste called.

  “Yes. Gassed and fed. I think we’re ready to go.” Then Tina frowned. “There is one thing. I called Mom and Dad to tell them how we’re coming along. There’s a problem with Frank.”

  Celeste stopped. “Oh?”

  “Nothing serious. It’s just that a dust storm shut down train travel across the Midwest yesterday. The visibility was so bad, they held up his train in Kansas City for about ten hours. East of Denver, crews are being sent out to remove the dirt that is now covering the tracks like drifts of snow. So, he won’t be arriving until tomorrow, hopefully by noon or so.”

  “Ah, nuts!” Reggie growled, kicking at the gravel with his toe.

  Celeste shrugged and started forward again as Reggie climbed into the back seat and shut the door. But as she passed Tina, Tina reached out and took her arm, pulling her to a stop.

  “What?” Celeste asked.

  “Was that a momentary flash of disappointment I just saw in your eyes?” she teased.

  Celeste’s face went scarlet. “No!”

  Tina chuckled. “You could have fooled me.”

  Chapter Notes

  By the early 1930s air travel had progressed to
the point that flights across the United States were pretty standard. Some international flights had been started within Europe, but trans-Atlantic flights were not common yet.

  What was to become known as the Dust Bowl was just beginning at this time. For millennia, thick prairie grass covered rich topsoil as much as six feet deep in places. But poor farming and over-grazing quickly changed all of that. By 1934, the country would see a catastrophic environmental disaster that drove literally millions of people from the land. The first big dust storm occurred in 1931, the only one that season. In 1932, there were fourteen.

  May 30, 1932, 11:25 a.m.—Monticello City Cemetery,

  Monticello, Utah

  “How have you been?”

  Celeste glanced up at Frank and then quickly away. “Fine.”

  “You look fabulous. Paris must agree with you.”

  “Oh, please!”

  Frank half turned away, staring out at the crowds in the cemetery, but not before she saw his mouth pinch in and pain darken his eyes.

  “I. . . . I’m sorry, Frank. That was ungracious of me. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. It was sincerely meant. And it’s not just that you’re beautiful, which you are. You look really. . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Contented, maybe.”

  Celeste gave him a quizzical look, and a wisp of a smile followed. “‘Contented’? You make me sound like I’m one of your father’s cows.”

  Frank laughed. “All right. Give me a better word.”

  That piqued her interest, and she studied his face as she thought about it. “I think that. . . .” She shook her head. “No, that’s not it either. I was going to say satisfied, but. . . . Maybe fulfilled is a better word.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, I love my teaching at the Sorbonne. Even more than I did at Wellesley. I find that I like having both men and women in my classes.”