The Regrets of Cyrus Dodd

by Bette Lee Crosby

  “I’m thinking we’ll take the interstate for the first part then cross over to High Ridge Road and enjoy the scenery. We can stop along the way and maybe have a picnic lunch on the road.”

  Ruth gave a soft smile. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “We could make the drive in less than four hours,” he said, “but I figure with stopping it will be more like five or six. We should be there by mid-afternoon.”

  “Good,” Ruth replied. “I’ll have time to freshen up before we go to dinner. I was thinking maybe I’d wear my blue dress that first evening.”

  “That would be nice.” Cyrus turned and looked at her, remembering the blue dress she’d worn the day they left Elk Bend. “You always did look pretty in blue.” He slid his hand beneath her chin, tilted her face to his and kissed her mouth.

  * * *

  On Wednesday morning they were on the road before eight o’clock. Ruth prepared a picnic lunch the night before, and the suitcases had been packed and ready to go for days.

  As Wyattsville disappeared in the rearview mirror, Ruth turned to Cyrus and said, “I’m glad we decided to do this. I’m looking forward to seeing West Virginia again.”

  “So am I,” he answered. “Remember how Prudence Greenly used to talk about she loved living there? Her family came from Greenbrier County. Alderson or maybe Quinwood.”

  “I remember,” Ruth said with a smile. “The evening we met she mentioned she was a Greenly from Greenbrier, and I said we’d come from just a stone’s throw away.”

  “Funny how one little flicker of fate can change your whole life,” he said. “If I hadn’t left you and gone back…”

  “I was scared to death, sitting on that street corner all by myself and when I heard Prudence swishing her broom across the walkway, I couldn’t imagine what—”

  Cyrus gave a hearty chuckle. “You weren’t too scared to go talk to her, and thanks to you we had a bed to sleep in that night.”

  As they ran through the fond reminiscences of the years spent at the Greenly house, they passed through one town and then another.

  Before long the towns began to be spaced further apart, and the highway turned into a narrow road through hills and valleys. As they drove deeper into the Appalachian Mountains, the feeling of being back in West Virginia settled upon them. They pulled into a roadside clearing and got out of the car so Ruth could snap a few pictures.

  “Oh, how beautiful,” she murmured, looking across an expanse of valley with more of the mountain range in the distance.

  “In a way it reminds me of Elk Bend,” Cyrus said. “It was like this when we were up on the high ridge.”

  Ruth looked at Cyrus for a moment then back at the valley. “You’re right. It was.”

  Shortly after they passed Blackstone, Cyrus said they were making great time and he could do with another cup of coffee. They stopped at a roadside restaurant called Grandma’s and slid into a booth.

  “You want the special?” a young woman called from behind the counter.

  “What’s the special?” Cyrus asked.

  “The two-dollar all-you-can-eat country breakfast bar.” She pointed to a hot table at the back of the room.

  Cyrus caught the smell of fried apples and grinned. “We’ll both have that.”

  “I really shouldn’t,” Ruth said. “I’ve already eaten a buttered corn muffin this morning.”

  Cyrus leaned across the table and in a low voice said, “I’m pretty sure those fried apples and sausages came from a local farm.”

  “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a little bit.”

  They slid out of the booth and headed back toward the steaming table. Standing there, everything looked delicious and it was impossible to choose one thing over another. They filled their plates with a sampling of everything and returned to the booth. In addition to three cups of coffee, Cyrus went back for a second helping of fried apples.

  They stopped another two times before they finally arrived in White Sulphur Springs, once for a bathroom break because of all the coffee Cyrus drank and a second time to nibble on the sandwiches Ruth packed. When they finally pulled up to the front entrance of the Greenbrier, Ruth eyed the huge white building and gave a gasp. Although she’d never been to Washington, DC, she said, “It looks bigger than the president’s house!”

  Looking at the long building with wings extending off both ends, Cyrus replied, “It just might be.”

  That evening they had dinner in the main dining room, and Ruth’s eyes sparkled like the crystal chandeliers. After tilting a glass of Chardonnay toward her lips, she looked across and whispered, “Cyrus, this is the most romantic thing we’ve ever done.”

  “More romantic than the Peppermint Club?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “Much more.”

  After dinner and an evening stroll, they returned to a room that was decorated as colorfully as a garden flower patch. The bed was already turned down with a plump comforter folded across the bottom. Ruth slid off her patent leather shoes and wriggled her toes in the velvety carpet. It was soft as a cloud. She dug her toes deeper into it then gave a happy giggle.

  “Perfect!” she said. “Everything is so perfect!”

  Cyrus came and took her in his arms.

  “It’s long overdue,” he said tenderly. “With all the regrets I’ve given you over the years, it’s time—”

  “Regrets?” she cut in. “Name one.”

  This challenge caught Cyrus short. Over time he’d added so many to his ever-growing list, but at this precise moment they all seemed rather small, hardly worth mentioning.

  “Well…”

  She laughed. There was no irony in her laughter, just pure happiness. “See, you can’t name a single one.”

  “What about you?” he asked. “Do you have things you regret?”

  “Oh, there are things I wish had turned out differently, but I wouldn’t call them regrets. Those things were just the heartaches that come with life. A regret is something you’ve done and wish you hadn’t.”

  Cyrus bent and brought his lips to hers. Even after more than thirty years of being together, the feel of her body close to his still warmed him. When the kiss ended, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  That night they made love, not hungrily as it had been in their younger years, but slowly and with each moment savored. Afterward as they lay side by side against the plush pillows, Ruth traced her finger along his chin and down the side of his neck onto his bare shoulder.

  “When you’ve been gifted a love such as this,” she said, “how could you possibly have any regrets?”

  Cyrus said nothing for a long. “Now that I’m looking back, I do have one regret.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I regret all those years of thinking I had a bunch of regrets.”

  “Oh, Cyrus.” Ruth laid her head in the crook of his arm and snuggled closer.

  The next morning they dressed for breakfast, casual wear as the brochure instructed, but no jeans, shorts or, heaven forbid, bathing suit cover-ups. Ruth wore a new white dress with a red patent leather belt, and Cyrus wore trousers with an open-collared shirt.

  The coffee, they agreed, was the best they’d ever tasted, and Cyrus declared the sweet potato pancakes far better than even his mama’s. Enjoying a second and then third cup of coffee, they lingered at the breakfast table for over an hour.

  After breakfast they strolled around the complex, oohing and ahhing at the flowers and cottages. That afternoon they sat in the grand upper lobby and listened to the tinkling of a piano as high tea was served. Although he could make little sense of such a tradition, Cyrus wore a suit and tie because it was what Ruth wanted.

  During their time at Greenbrier, Cyrus and Ruth spent several afternoons hiking through the woods and bicycling around Springhouse Lane. Once they swam in the indoor pool, and once they visited the mineral spring. Most every day they went for a long walk, remembering the smells and sounds of the mountain
. Twice Ruth heard a familiar trill and thought it was surely a titmouse, but there was only the sound and never a sighting of the small gray bird.

  On their last afternoon they went beyond the North Gate and walked over to the train station. Even from a distance, it reminded them of the day they left Elk Bend.

  “It looks a lot like the Shenandoah Valley Station,” Ruth said.

  “It sure does,” Cyrus agreed. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and snuggled her a bit closer. “Except I’ll bet there’s no pretty girl in a blue dress in the waiting room.”

  “You still remember that dress?”

  “I remember how pretty you looked wearing it.”

  “You remember the suitcase and crates we lugged onboard?”

  Cyrus smiled and gave a slight nod. “That seems so long ago.”

  “It was long ago,” Ruth said. “More than thirty years.”

  As they were walking back to the main building, he said, “When we leave here tomorrow, why don’t we drive over to Elk Bend?”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Ruth replied.

  Return to Elk Bend

  The thought of returning to Elk Bend brought a new kind of excitement. On their last morning at Greenbrier, Cyrus and Ruth skipped the sumptuous breakfast in the main dining room and left after having only a single cup of coffee.

  “Maybe we’ll come across another Grandma’s all-you-can-eat breakfast on the road,” Ruth said.

  Cyrus laughed. “I doubt it. Grandma’s was one of a kind.”

  After the lush rolling lawns of Greenbrier disappeared they crossed over Route 64 and pulled back onto Route 60, the narrow two-lane road that wound its way deeper into the West Virginia mountains. Cyrus had never before traveled this road, but as they passed through the small towns of Rupert and Rainelle he felt a vague sense of familiarity.

  “We’re in Fayette County,” he said. “Kanawha’s next.”

  “Do you remember all these places?” Ruth asked.

  “The counties I do, but a lot of these towns I’ve never even heard of and they’re not on the map.”

  “Is Elk Bend?”

  “Yes,” Cyrus said. “I know it’s beyond Wolf Hollow, but that’s not on the map.”

  After another two hours of driving past wooded hillsides and unmarked dirt roads, any of which could have been mistaken for the road that ran back into Elk Bend, Ruth said, “I wish we’d had breakfast. I’m hungry for eggs and sausage.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  Chimney Rock was the next town. Cyrus turned down the road and searched for a place to eat. Halfway down the street he spotted a diner and pulled into the parking lot. As soon as they’d slid into the booth, he pulled out the road map and started tracing his finger along Route 60. When the waitress asked if they were ready to order, he gave an absent nod.

  “Two coffees, and we’ll both have eggs and sausage.”

  She made a few scratch marks on her pad and left.

  “Are we in Kanawha County yet?” Ruth asked.

  “We’re in Kanawha,” he said, “but I’m not sure of exactly where we are because Chimney Rock isn’t on the map.”

  Ruth glanced up and smiled when the waitress set two mugs of coffee in front of them.

  “Thank you,” she said and turned back to Cyrus. “So you don’t know how far it is to Elk Bend?”

  “Thirty-some miles,” the waitress answered.

  Cyrus looked up, obviously surprised. “That close, huh?”

  “Give or take,” she said and turned back to the counter.

  “Funny,” he mused, “I don’t remember a town named Chimney Rock being so close.”

  “Back then it wasn’t,” Ruth said. “Thirty miles is a long way when you’re bouncing around in a wagon. It doesn’t seem so far now because we’ve got a car with nice cushy rubber tires.”

  “True enough,” Cyrus said.

  A stitch of sadness was woven through the words. Ruth looked across the table and noticed how his brows were suddenly pinched together.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Fine.”

  Despite what he said, she could see the melancholy draped over him like the flag on a coffin.

  “You don’t look fine.”

  He shrugged then picked up the mug of coffee and half-heartedly sipped it.

  When the waitress brought the food to their table, it turned out that neither of them was quite as hungry as they’d thought. Cyrus ate half of his meal. Ruth poked holes in the runny yolks and left both sausage patties on the plate.

  “This breakfast isn’t nearly as good as at Greenbrier,” she whispered mischievously.

  Cyrus’s expression softened a bit, and there was the slightest flicker of a smile.

  “Did you think it would be?” he whispered back.

  Ruth grinned. “No, but I thought I’d cheer you up and I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, you did.” The corners of his mouth curled into the smile she was hoping for.

  Before noon they were back on Route 60 and once again headed toward Elk Bend. Two miles after they passed the turn off for Wolf Hollow, they spotted the sign that read “Welcome to Elk Bend.”

  Ruth gave a nostalgic sigh. “Did you ever think we’d be back here again?”

  Cyrus shook his head. “No, I surely didn’t.”

  A short way down the road they passed a thick stand of pines. At the clearing Cyrus made a right-hand turn onto what used to be called Creek Road. It wasn’t actually a road but a dirt pathway that ran alongside the creek. It crossed over in back of the Andersen place. The left fork ran up to Virgil Jackson’s place; the right fork would take them to what was once Cyrus’s farm.

  When Cyrus turned onto the right fork, the land became as familiar as his own hands. They passed a small grove of apple trees, still standing and already budding. He knew in another week, maybe two, the trees would be full of beautiful pink blossoms.

  “It’s good they haven’t died,” he said.

  As the car thumped and bumped over the dirt road strewn with rocks and spotted with patches of weed and wild grass, he slowed to a crawl. Before long they came to the clearing and Ruth saw the house.

  “There it is!” she squealed.

  Cyrus said nothing, but his eyes filled with water. He parked the car, got out and stood there. Ruth followed and came around to him.

  “It looks smaller than I remember,” she said.

  “It’s only four rooms,” he replied, “and none of them very large. I always thought maybe one day I’d add on to the back.”

  They walked toward their old home. Most of the house was still standing, but there were parts missing. The steps were gone, as was the front porch.

  “Let’s see if there’s anything left inside,” Cyrus said. He gave Ruth a boost, and they climbed through what was now an open doorway.

  In the kitchen the water pump still stood alongside the spot where the enameled basin served as a sink. Cyrus tried the handle, but it was rusted shut. Above it scraps of faded gingham fluttered though the broken windowpane, a remnant of the curtains Ruth had stitched by hand.

  On the opposite side was the living room or, as it was called back then, the parlor. Scratched and faded, the wooden floor held marks of where one thing or another once stood. Ruth remembered every piece: the green sofa, the table with a wobbly leg, a rag rug centered in the middle of the room. She closed her eyes and pictured it on a fall evening with the lamp lit, Cyrus squinting to read a month-old newspaper and her in the chair with her sewing basket on the floor beside her.

  Room by room they went through the house, lingering in each spot to envision it as it was when they lived there. There were no closets in the house, only hooks on the wall and marks of where the wardrobe stood.

  “We had so little back then,” Ruth said. “Yet I never felt we were poor.”

  “We weren’t,” Cyrus replied. “We were like everyone else. Better off than some b
ecause we had our own farm. I guess this wasn’t as easy a life as I’d remembered.”

  “Not always easy, but good nonetheless.”

  Through the open door Ruth saw the distant mountain with the sun still high above the ridge. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the glare and saw the stone markers of where the porch stood.

  “Remember how on hot summer nights we’d sit out there to catch a breeze rolling down off the mountain?”

  Cyrus came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I remember. I’d be sitting in the wooden plank chair, and you’d be pushing back and forth in the rocker.”

  Ruth leaned into him and laid her head against his chest. “Sometimes you’d fall asleep, and I’d just sit there listening to you breathe. It was so quiet and peaceful. I couldn’t imagine us ever leaving here.”

  “Neither could I.” He turned her face toward him then brought his hand up and gently traced a finger along the edge of her cheek. “I’m sorry about ruining everything, sorry about—”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “You didn’t ruin anything. You gave me a life better than any I’d ever dreamed of having.”

  “I’m sorry about our babies.”

  Ruth’s eyes filled with water as she touched her finger to his lips and hushed his words.

  “I’m sorry about our babies too. All the other hardships we went through were nothing compared to losing them. I felt as though part of my soul had been taken away. But it wasn’t your fault, Cyrus; you did everything you could. You gave our babies a resting place and a marker that would live on.”

  He gave a deep sigh. “You remember the elderberry bushes?”

  “Of course I remember.” She looked down. “One for Matthew and one for the baby I was too sick to name.”

  Her breath caught and she choked back a sob. “Oh, God, how I regret letting my sweet baby go to his grave without a Christian name.”