One Shining Moment

by Gilbert, Morris

  Somehow Lylah had known that she would get a call like this. She had grieved over the terrible anguish that her gentle younger sister had gone through. More than once she had called to offer to come and help, but her father had said, “There ain’t nothin’ you can do here, Lylah. If it gets worse, maybe you can do somethin’.”

  “What is it, Pa?”

  A slight hesitation occurred, then Will said, “It’s bad, Lylah. You know how it is in a small place. Most people are kind, but some are hateful. It’s got so bad that Christie won’t go out of the house, and—”

  When her father halted abruptly, Lylah said, “And Agnes won’t let her alone when she’s there—is that it?”

  “Well, she’s got to get away, Lylah.”

  “What about Mel Tolliver? But I don’t have to ask about him! He dropped her, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, the low life! But anyways Christie won’t be married to him, and I guess that’s somethin’!”

  “Do you want me to bring her out to California with me?”

  “I don’t think that would be the answer, Lylah. She’s hurtin’ bad, and she don’t need that Hollywood bunch.”

  “I think that’s right, Pa. But what?—”

  “Lenora wrote a letter. She wants Christie to come and stay with her. They were always close.”

  “Is that all right with the Salvation Army people?”

  “Yes. It’s all fixed up—but I can’t get Amos. He’d come and get her, but him and Rose and Maury are gone on some kind of a trip. I don’t know what to do. Don’t even know if Christie would agree to go—but she’s got to get away from here.”

  Desperation now threaded her father’s voice, and Lylah said, “Don’t worry, Pa. I’ll take care of it. All right?”

  “All right, Lylah. Good-bye, then.”

  Lylah hung up the phone and stood there, thinking furiously. She could not leave the picture, for it would tie up the whole company. She thought of Peter in Oklahoma, and Logan—but neither would be able to handle this. Gavin could do it, she thought, and then was aware that Jesse and Bonnie were watching her. “I’ve got to do a great deal of long distance calling,” she said. “I can go home, but if you’ll let me use your phone, I’ll pay the charges.”

  “Of course,” Jesse said, then turned to say, “Come on, Bonnie. We’ll take a walk.”

  Grateful for his thoughtfulness, Lylah waited until the door closed, then at once began trying to trace Gavin. She didn’t know his schedule, however, and Heather was not at home. Finally she dialed Amos’s home, and the phone was answered by the maid. “Can you tell me how to reach Mr. Stuart, Emily?”

  “No, Miss Lylah. They went in the car and said they were going to get away from telephones.”

  “Well, thanks—”

  “Mr. Jerry called this afternoon. He’s here in Chicago. Would you like his number?”

  “Oh, yes, give it to me, please.”

  Lylah wrote down the number, thanked Emily, then dialed it. At once a voice said, “Hello?”

  “Jerry?”

  “Yes, this is Jerry.”

  “This is Aunt Lylah. Jerry, we’ve got a big problem. Can you reach your father?”

  “Don’t think so. What’s up?”

  Lylah hesitated. If it had been Maury, she would have tried to get her to help, but she was well aware of Jerry’s record. “Oh, never mind, Jerry—”

  “Wait a minute, Aunt Lylah! If there’s a problem, I want to help.”

  “Well—it’s your aunt Christie. You know about her trouble?”

  “I know she didn’t do what they say! She’s not that kind. What’s going on?”

  “She’s got to leave Arkansas, Jerry. Your grandfather called and asked me to help. But I can’t leave. Is there any way you can go there and get her?”

  “I can be there tomorrow! Where do you want me to take her?”

  “Tomorrow? Why, it will take the train longer than that!”

  “Won’t take a plane longer, though. Now, tell me what to do, Aunt Lylah.”

  “All right. You’ll have to be careful with her, Jerry. None of your jokes. She’s badly broken up, and she doesn’t need that sort of thing.”

  “All right, no jokes. Where do I take her?”

  “Pa thinks she needs to go to be with Lenora.”

  “At the Salvation Army—here in Chicago?”

  “You know it? Have you been there?”

  “Sure—been in to see Aunt Lenora twice. She’ll be good for Aunt Christie. Well, I’ll call you when we get back.”

  “Do you need money?—”

  “No, I’ve got plenty. And thanks for trusting me, Aunt Lylah. I won’t let you down!”

  Agnes came in from the garden, her face flushed from the heat of the sun. When she saw Christie sitting in the rocking chair staring out the window, she said sharply, “I told you to get those peas shelled. All you’ve done is sit and stare out that window!”

  “I’m sorry, Agnes.”

  “Well, hurry up! I can’t do all the work around here by myself.” Agnes passed through the kitchen, moving into the bedroom where she washed her face in the basin on the oak washstand, then laid down on the bed to rest. She had been pleased at the accusations that had followed Christie’s disgrace, as she called it. For years her own affairs with men had been known by most of the people in the county, and now she had stridently said to her husband, “Well, she’s no better than a woman of the streets! It’s a shame that we have to endure the tongues of everybody in Stone County. You ought to run her off the place, Will!”

  Will had been shocked by the story, humiliated by the talk that went around—but never once had he doubted the innocence of his daughter. He had put up with Agnes’s nagging for years, but her sharp tongue was destroying Christie. It was for this reason that he had called Lylah, and now as he sat on the porch, he wished he’d handled the matter differently.

  Ought to have been man enough to make Agnes shut her mouth, he thought. He was a weak man, and now he was so out of the habit of asserting himself with the gross woman he had married that he had tried to keep her pacified.

  But he had heard her words when she’d come in from the garden, and he rose and moved into the house, going to the kitchen. He found Christie listlessly shelling peas and said, “Lemme’ help you with them peas, Daughter.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Pa.”

  “Got my chores all done,” he replied. He sat down and with thick, work-blunted fingers began to shell the peas. They sat there silently for a time, then Will said, “I talked to Lylah yesterday.”

  This interested Christie, and she glanced at him. “You went to the store to use the phone?” Her face was thinner, for she had lost weight, and her eyes were tired. There was a sadness about her that hurt her father’s heart.

  “Yep, I did.” He ran his thumb down the inside of a pea, and the small pellets drummed into the tin pan. “I told her to get you away from here somehow.”

  Christie swallowed and nodded. “I know it’s hard on you, Pa—”

  “Me? Why, Daughter, I wasn’t thinkin’ about me!”

  But Christie seemed not to hear him. Her lips were pale and trembling, and she whispered, “I’m so . . . so ashamed, Pa!”

  Will at once put the pan on the worn table, reached over, and put his hand over hers. “You got no need of that,” he said urgently. “You’ve done nothing—”

  Suddenly he broke off and turned his head to one side. “What in tarnation?—”

  And then the house seemed filled with a great roaring. Both of them thought it was an earthquake, and they leaped to their feet. Christie ran outside and looked up, crying, “Pa—it’s a flying machine!”

  “Must be Gavin,” Will nodded with relief. “What’s he doin’ here?”

  Up in the two-seater Jerry laughed as he saw the pair come flying out of the house. “That got their attention,” he said. He pulled back on the stick, did an inside roll, then began to look for a place to land.

>   Guess that pasture’s about as good a landing field as I’m likely to find. He throttled back, studied the field, then made his decision. He’d landed on smaller fields many times, but he was uncertain of how many hidden holes he might encounter in this one. But it was the only possibility, so he slowed the craft, keeping it barely at flying speed. When he was ten feet from the rail fence, he cut the power and drifted to the ground. The wheels hit, the plane bounced twice, then came to a stop forty feet from the line of timber. “Wish Gavin could have seen that!” he cried out, then climbed out of the plane.

  He moved toward the house and was met by his grandfather and his aunt. “Why, you crazy lunatic!” Will exclaimed. “You could have broken your neck!”

  “Didn’t though. How are you, Grandpa?”

  Will stared at his tall young grandson and beamed with pride. “Lylah send you?” he demanded.

  “She called me yesterday,” Jerry nodded. Then he turned to his aunt, who had said nothing. Smiling he said, “Well, what are you waiting for, Aunt Christie? We’ve got a long way to go.”

  Christie stared at him, not understanding. And then she knew. “I . . . I can’t leave here,” she murmured.

  But Jerry went to her and put his arm around her. “Sure you can. I talked to Lenora before I left. She told me to tie you up and throw you into the plane if you wouldn’t come on your own.” He saw the distress in the young woman’s eyes and said gently, “Honest, Aunt Lenora’s excited about your coming. She said the two of you will have more fun than you can think of—but she said you’d have to work, too.”

  “Work?”

  “Why, those Army people work to put a mule to shame! Feeding people, helping women and kids, all kinds of services on the streets! Never saw anything like it! And you know Lenora—she’s about worn herself out. She really needs you, Aunt Christie.”

  It was this offer of a place to work—and the fact that Lenora needed help—that gave Christie the strength to make the plunge. “All right, I’ll go get my suitcase packed.”

  As she turned and ran toward the house, Will said, “Son, you handled that real good! I been worried what to do if she wouldn’t go.”

  Jerry reddened with the praise, then looked toward the house. “Going to be lonesome for you, isn’t it, Grandpa?”

  “I don’t mind that. Reckon I’ll go spend some time over at Logan’s. He needs some help with that place of his.”

  Thirty minutes later Jerry had strapped Christie firmly into the front cockpit. He stepped to the ground and put his hand out, saying, “Take care of yourself, Grandpa.”

  “Sure. And don’t kill yourself and my girl in this fool machine.”

  And then Jerry ran to climb into the cockpit. He started the engine, then said, “You scared, Aunt Christie?”

  “No. I’m ready to go.”

  “Well—here we go, then.”

  Will Stuart watched as the plane roared from the field, clearing the fence by a matter of inches. He kept his eyes on it until it was a mere speck that finally disappeared. Then he turned and walked back toward the house, his shoulders stooped and loneliness etched into his features.

  “HE DOESN’T LOOK LIKE A GANGSTER—”

  Christie kept her eyes closed while the plane took off, frightened more than she had admitted to Jerry. The engine directly in front of her roared hoarsely, and she was pressed downward into her seat as the two-seater pointed its nose into the air. Her fingers ached from clutching the edge of the seat, and she had to force herself to relax her jaws when they began to hurt.

  As the plane banked sharply to her right, she heard Jerry yell, “Look, Aunt Christie—there’s the home place!”

  When Christie opened her eyes, she saw that the house looked like a dollhouse. Fascinated, she took in the barn, the stock in the corral—everything looked so tiny! Then Jerry turned the plane toward the west, and she eagerly searched the landscape. There was the creek she’d fished in all her life—but she’d never known how crooked it was! She searched the road that wound between the hills, naming off the houses, marveling at how different they looked from this vantage point.

  “Pretty neat, isn’t it, Aunt Christie?” Jerry yelled. She turned around, smiled at him, then swung back to watch the country flow by. It’s like flying over a big patchwork quilt, she thought, noting how the fields were mostly laid out in geometrical patterns. Then Jerry gunned the engine, and the plane climbed upward. They were headed straight for a huge white cloud that looked solid as rock—but when they passed through it, she discovered that it was like flying through a white mist.

  Then they popped out, and soon she was looking down on white clouds, flattened on top, and marveling at the immensity of the world. She’d been surrounded by trees and hills all her life, and only now did the grandeur of the world become obvious to her.

  Hour after hour passed, then Jerry landed to refuel. As Christie got out and stretched, she wondered what sort of world she’d find in Chicago. She was an imaginative young woman, able to dream up scenarios almost like viewing a motion picture. Her life had been a nightmare since she had been thrown into the public eye, and no matter what came next, she didn’t think it could be as bad as what had preceded. At least I’ll be with Lenora—and nobody will know about it . . . what’s happened, she thought.

  Jerry exited the small building carrying a sack and two bottles. “Lunch,” he grinned. “Not the Ritz, but it’ll keep us from getting hungry. Think you can stand another few hours, Aunt Christie?”

  “Oh, yes, Jerry! It’s a wonderful way to travel!”

  Jerry opened the sack and gave her a sandwich. “Well, if we get caught in a thunderstorm you might not think so.” He bit into the sandwich, made a face, then chewed slowly. “I hate peanut butter!” he complained. Then looking up at the sky, he shook his head. “We’re all right. Perfect weather for flying. We might have to lay over, though. But we’ll be in Chicago tomorrow.”

  “Jerry—thanks for coming for me.”

  “Aw, it’s a piece of cake. Be good to have you in Chicago. Now I can take the two best-looking women in the whole town out at the same time.”

  Christie saw that he was embarrassed at being thanked but put her hand on his arm. “It means a lot to me. You’re like your dad—always ready to help others.”

  Jerry Stuart stared at this aunt of his, but he knew that she was wrong. “I wish you were right about that, Aunt Christie,” he said almost bitterly, “but I’ve spent my life looking out for number one.”

  Christie was surprised at the unhappiness that her remark had brought to her nephew’s face. She knew little about him—except that he’d been a problem to his parents for some time. Now she studied the clean-cut features, the coal black hair, and the strange-colored green eyes. He’s so fine-looking, she thought, and he’s troubled about himself. But he’s good, no matter how much trouble he’s been in.

  The two ate, then climbed back into the plane. Jerry kept in the air until dusk began to fall. They landed at a small airport and managed to find two cots in the hangar, where they lay down and went to sleep almost instantly. The last thing Christie thought before she drifted off was, I’ll see Lenora—and things will be different.

  “There it is, Aunt Christie—Chicago!”

  At Jerry’s loud cry, Christie stirred herself and peered out over the edge of the cockpit. The sight made her gasp, for she had never dreamed that men could make anything so impressive as the city that lay below her. People the size of ants were moving along the tiny streets, and the cars looked like toys. As they passed over the city, she noted that the skyscrapers were like mountains with the streets lying in valleys between them.

  Jerry brought the small plane in, and when he taxied up to one of the hangars and cut the engine, he said, “All out for Chicago—” Christie descended, having an awkward time keeping her skirt down as she climbed down to the pavement.

  Jerry got her suitcase and led her into the hangar. He was met by a man in greasy clothes who said, “Phon
e call for you, Jerry. Guy said to be sure and get to him.”

  Jerry took the slip of paper the mechanic handed him, glanced at it, and nodded. “Got to make a call, Aunt Christie. Wait here, will you?”

  “All right.”

  Christie stood beside her suitcase, watching the men at work on the planes for a few minutes, then Jerry was back. “Got to make one stop before I take you to the Salvation Army headquarters. Won’t take too long. Okay?”

  “Of course, Jerry.”

  He led her to a low, sleek car, stored her luggage in a compartment in the rear, then helped her in. When he got in, he said as he started the engine, “Got to go see my boss. You’ll get to see a little of Chicago.”

  Jerry drove almost recklessly through the heavy traffic. He looped one arm out the window, letting his wrist drape over the wheel, and several times Christie gasped as he seemed to be unaware of escaping a collision by a fraction of an inch. He left a wake of honking cars and probably cursing drivers but chatted happily, pointing out the sights of the city.

  “Look, here’s the way the city’s laid out,” he told her. “The Chicago River runs straight east into Lake Michigan. And the other way, west, there’s a fork, sort of like a Y. The city’s divided into three main divisions—North Side and South Side, meaning north or south of the river, and the West Side, which is everything between the two branches of the Y.”

  As they moved along, he pointed out the Potter Palmer mansion, built in 1882, on north Lake Shore Drive. “This is the ritzy section, Aunt Christie,” Jerry informed her. “All the swells live here.”

  They drove over a new bridge, and he informed her, “Michigan Avenue Bridge—just opened this month.” A little later he pointed out the Loop and the Million Dollar Mile, then finally after what seemed like a long drive, pulled up in front of a brick building with “Colosimo’s Cafe” on a sign over the door. “Come on inside,” Jerry said. “Want you to meet my employers.”

  Christie walked with Jerry through the front door, and the pair were met at once by a bulky man who eyed them suspiciously, then recognized Jerry. “You looking for Mr. Castellano? Come along.”