Calling Home

by Janna McMahan

  “Man, look at that,” Kerry said.

  “I know,” Shannon said. It was unnerving—all the changes of the past two days. Not only had the town been rearranged, her whole life was taking giants spins at every turn. Last night, her father stayed upstairs with her mother for the first time in two years. She could hear them making love, nothing urgent, just the occasional faint indication of movement. She had no school to return to; her mother had no work. Pam was living with a relative in another county. Aunt Patsy came out of her room this morning, bobby pins holding a strip of toilet paper around her teased hair, and announced that she was marrying her preacher next weekend. And today she would have to tell Kerry the truth.

  As they rode around looking at the devastation Shannon tried to form the words. What was the right way to tell a man you had lied? How could you let him know that you didn’t think he was a fool, even though you had fooled him terribly?

  Green River Lake was placid and vacant, only a couple of men puttered out to open water in a johnboat. The marina looked normal, but felled trees made a jam of giant driftwood that blocked boats in slips.

  “This looks okay,” Shannon said. “Let’s go by Liz’s house.”

  In town, the Coyles’ two-story colonial was reduced to one south wall and half the kitchen. The neighboring colonials stood, but their trees were stripped of leaves and both houses seemed nude to Shannon—no shutters, outside furniture or shrubbery. They stepped gingerly over the rubble; no one had even attempted to clean up. Shannon had heard that they were staying in North Carolina until Liz’s mother felt like she could come back. Word was she’d had a nervous breakdown.

  “Check this out,” Kerry said.

  In the kitchen, an air compressor had been shoved into the open refrigerator and on the counter close by sat three salad bowls, each with brown lettuce in the bottom.

  “That’s just weird,” he said.

  Crooked picture frames dangled from wires on the kitchen walls, but the artwork had been sucked out. Shannon bent down to pick up a black and white photo of a young woman. She stuck it in her pocket. “If you see any pictures I’ll take them. I’m sure they’ll want them back.”

  “Okay.”

  “How can this happen—a whole house, just gone.” She saw the pink pig shower curtain in a far tree. She plucked a tiny bottle of perfume from a pile of fluff that had been a pillow.

  “Thank God they weren’t killed.”

  “They were in the basement.”

  “I wonder if anything’s left down there.”

  A hole indicated where stairs led down and they carefully made their way. Shafts of light cut through the floor, making twilight in the basement.

  “It looks okay,” Kerry said. He walked over and sat down on an old sofa, a fancy thing that had probably belonged to somebody’s grandmother long ago. A crate of records sat on a coffee table in front of him. “We’d better take those too. It wouldn’t do to let them sit out in the weather.”

  “Kerry, I got to tell you something.”

  “Yeah?” he said. He flipped through the albums—Pink Floyd, Eddie Money, The Bee Gees.

  “You’re not going to be happy.”

  He stopped then and leveled his eyes at her.

  “What?”

  “We can’t get married.”

  He just looked at her. Not smiling or showing any emotion.

  “I mean I can’t marry you because…well, because it wouldn’t be right.”

  “I knew it. I just knew it.”

  He sighed and laid his head back against the couch. “Okay, Shannon. I don’t have the energy to chase you anymore. I figured you were going to do this to me since you kept putting things off.”

  “I didn’t mean to be mean to you. I just got confused and—”

  “No.” He held up his hand. “You’re not being mean, you’re just being honest. Look, you don’t want to marry me and just because there’s a baby on the way doesn’t mean that we have to get married. I’ll still be a good daddy and who knows, you might change your mind later on. I’m not going to force you to marry me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life knowing that I’m not the one you wanted to end up with.”

  She bit her lip. “You’re not the daddy.”

  He opened his mouth to speak and closed it. He looked around the dark room as if searching for something. Suddenly he upended the crate of albums onto the floor. They slid to Shannon’s feet. A sad girl sitting against a urinal stared up at her from a Foreigner album. He stomped back up the stairs. She followed and when she emerged into the shambles of the upstairs she saw Kerry taking giant strides back to his truck.

  “What are you going to do? Leave me here?” Shannon yelled.

  He turned around and came back to her quickly. “Shit. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He pointed his finger in her face until she flinched back. “That was low. Letting me think the baby’s mine.”

  “I didn’t set off to make you think that.”

  “Whose is it?”

  “A guy. I don’t even know him.”

  “You cheated on me?”

  “No. We weren’t together when it happened.”

  “So where’s he now?”

  “He doesn’t know. I don’t want him to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Shit. I knew something was wrong.”

  “You just assumed it was yours and I didn’t have the guts to tell you the truth.”

  “So you were just going to lie to me for the rest of our lives? Make me raise somebody else’s kid?”

  “No. That’s why I’m telling you. I know it’s not right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you again.”

  “Yeah, again. And again and again and again.”

  “I’m sorry. How many times do I have to say it?”

  “You can never say it enough!” he yelled and panic crept up her spine. “How am I supposed to feel about this? Am I just supposed to forgive you? Five minutes ago I thought I was getting a family and now I find out all I’m getting is humiliated.”

  He walked away and she screamed at his back. “There’s no way you could be more humiliated than I am!” She ran after him then, yelling. “You have no idea what it’s like to be me. I was scared, okay? Scared about everything and you’re the one person that’s always helped me. Always loved me no matter what. Is it so bad that I needed you? I made a mistake. Haven’t you ever made a mistake, Kerry?”

  He turned. “Yeah, I seem to be making mistakes right and left here lately.” She could tell he was near tears. “I feel so stupid, but you know, I knew you went out with somebody else. A couple of times I’d called your house to find you and your mom said you were at Pam’s, but you weren’t there.”

  “Most of the time I was just hanging out at the boat dock.”

  Shannon could see a neighbor peeking from behind a curtain. Kerry saw it too, grabbed her wrist and said, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  In town, crews cleared away chunks of the strip mall and a couple of fast-food joints. Along Lebanon Avenue, homeowners patched their roofs and hauled brush out to the road. People swarmed over the high school like an anthill that had been poked with a stick. Fire trucks and emergency vehicles were parked everywhere. The bakery was open and handing out free donuts and coffee.

  As they neared her house again, Kerry said, “What’re you going to do?”

  “Momma and Daddy said they would help me. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but they won’t let me starve or anything.”

  “What about the baby? You going to keep it?”

  “I don’t want to, but Momma feels different about it. She said to wait until it’s born before I decide. She said I might change my mind. What about you? Are you going to be okay?”

  “I guess my pride is what’s hurt most, but with everything that’s going on around here now nobody’s going to be paying much attention to either one of us.”

  “That’s true.”
She reached over and placed her hand on his. “I honestly didn’t mean to hurt you, Kerry. Don’t hate me.”

  He lit a cigarette. Smoke flowed out the window and disappeared like it had never existed. She would never tell him about the rape. He would want to help, to save her again. She had to be strong enough to let him go. It was only fair. He pulled the truck up the drive to her house, but didn’t cut the engine. His cigarette trembled in his fingers.

  “Get out,” he said.

  35

  Shannon seemed almost her normal size with the bright red gown draped over her. She smoothed the slick fabric over her round belly and suddenly a basketball appeared underneath. She adjusted gold honor ropes across her shoulders. She balanced the mortarboard on her head and the tassel jiggled happily. The past few weeks had dragged by. She was ready to graduate. All the high school classes had been relocated to the city school or the junior high or Sunday school rooms in churches around town. Shannon had taken her final exams in the same auditorium where she had been in Junior Miss. But nobody, not even the teachers, could concentrate, and most people spent their days looking out windows.

  Everything had been crazy for weeks. Homeless families sleeping on the gym floor at the elementary school, using the locker rooms each morning before the little kids showed up for class. The bank operating out of the back of the grocery store, the big safe hauled over there in the bucket of a dozer. The Red Cross going around offering donated clothes and rolls of toilet paper. The town was still just trying to function.

  “Look at you,” her mother said from the door. “All grown up.” Virginia came in and sat on the bed. She had on the same dress she had worn to Will’s graduation. “I got a present for you.”

  She held out an envelope and Shannon took it. It had a Western Kentucky University logo. “What’s this?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Shannon saw that it had been opened and she slipped the letter out.

  “Momma, what have you done?”

  “I applied for you. I knew you wouldn’t. I wanted to make sure you got accepted before I gave it to you. I didn’t want you to have any more reason to get depressed.”

  “But I’ve been accepted to the community college over in Adair County.”

  “I know. But it would be too hard for you to drive back and forth and take care of the baby and all. I want you to go to Western. I’ll take the baby. That is if you’ll let me.”

  “But I’d have to live in Bowling Green.”

  “I know. Hear me out. I don’t want to force anything on you, but I want to raise the baby. You dad’s offered to help. We think…I think…that it’s the right thing to do.”

  “But you have to work.”

  “They’re still rebuilding the factory and I won’t be going back to work until next fall or even the spring. I’ve got unemployment until then and Patsy said she’d keep the baby during the day when I go back. She’s really excited about it. You know Patsy always wanted a little one of her own. She can’t wait to get her hands on that baby.”

  “But Momma, I can’t afford Western.”

  Virginia pulled a thick envelope from her purse. Inside Shannon found a stack of hundred-dollar bills.

  “What’s this?”

  “About fifteen hundred dollars.”

  “Why are you giving me this?”

  “I’m not. It’s from Will.”

  “What?”

  “Will worked and saved that money for college. I kept it safe so you could have it. He’d want you to take it. I figure that ought to last you a year, longer if you get a job as soon as you get there. We’ll have to go down soon so you can pick a dorm and sign up for classes.”

  “This doesn’t seem right.”

  “Listen to me. There’s no reason for this town to suck you in like it did me. I’m here for good and I’ve made my peace with that, but I don’t want you to miss your chance. At least if you give it a go, even if you don’t make it, I’ll know that I did the best I could to help you. This is about me, too.”

  “What does Daddy say?”

  “He agrees with me. He’s proud of you and your grades. I don’t know why no school offered you a scholarship, but that’s life. You’ll have to work, but lots of kids put themselves through college. Most don’t even have this much of a start, so you should do just fine.”

  Shannon hesitated and then threw her arms around her mother. “Thank you! I’m so happy. How can I ever make it up to you?”

  “I don’t need to be repaid. I’m your mother.” Virginia wiped her eyes and stood. “Maybe I’ve not always been the best mother, but I’m going to try and do better. Now hurry up, your daddy’s waiting downstairs. We don’t want to be late getting there with the honor girl.”

  A television truck from Louisville with a big dish on the top was parked in the circle in front of the church. A reporter with a stiff bubble of brown hair was speaking into a camera, bright lights washing her pale. On the way in Shannon heard the woman say, “Mere weeks after the devastating storm system tore through this sleepy community, the class of 1981 will walk down the aisles of this church….”

  Shannon clutched her speech in sweaty hands. “Momma, there’s supposed to be seats for you and Daddy down front. I’ve got to go find Mr. Gabehart.”

  “Okay,” her mother said. “We’ll be rooting for you.”

  Shannon joined the throng of caps and gowns filing into the sanctuary. She found the principal and he steered her to a seat on the front row instead of the middle, where she would have been seated alphabetically. Twenty minutes later the school band came to attention and started squeaking out “America the Beautiful” and the audience rose. A Boy Scout troop led everyone in the Pledge of Allegiance; then came a roaring rendition of “My Old Kentucky Home.” The crowd finished with the school fight song. The scouts slid the flags into their spots on either side of the stage and the ceremonies began. Shannon tried to unfurl her speech, but it sprang back into a cylinder. She finally pressed it flat and tried to breathe deeply, but her stomach rumbled with nervousness. She looked around the packed church and realized that she had never spoken to a group this large before.

  After brief initial comments, the principal said, “But now it’s time to turn the show over to the ones today is really about—the graduates. First off, I’d like to introduce a lovely young woman who has shown an enormous amount of courage and tenacity. She is our valedictorian, president of the speech club, a member of numerous other clubs and she was our Junior Miss back in August. Please welcome Miss Shannon Lemmons.”

  Generous applause followed Shannon to the side steps of the podium. She took each one with intention, walked to the lectern and positioned her speech just so, even though she had every word memorized. The crowd grew quiet. Suddenly a bright light glared into her face and Shannon realized it was the television camera. Her heart thrummed in her ears. She closed her eyes for a second, then found her voice.

  Those of you who know me know that I’ve been on the high school speech team for years and I do 4-H speaking events and demonstrations all over the state. I’ve written and spoken about a lot of different issues, but I’ve never tried to give a talk that would motivate people to follow their dreams. I found it was hard to think of words to inspire my classmates. You would think with all of the things that have happened in the past year that I’d have plenty to say.

  A few people in the audience laughed, and this made Shannon smile and she relaxed.

  For me personally, this year has brought the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.

  She hesitated to say the next sentence, but she prepared herself and cupped her stomach.

  You may look at me and think that no matter how good my grades were in school, my future looks pretty certain. But what I’ve come to realize is that I’m resilient. I’m capable of rising above bad or unplanned things that happen to me. All of us here today have suffered personal setbacks and heartbreaking experiences. Only two months ago, our community was devastated by
tornadoes and it’s the reason we’re in Central Christian Church today instead of at the high school. But there’s an old saying about tragedy—that what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. I’ve been proud of this town in the last couple of months, proud of our strength, our compassion, and our work ethic. There are plenty of people here who don’t like each other for one reason or another, but none of that’s important now. Our little town is under reconstruction, and it’s not just the buildings that are being rebuilt but the character of our community too. Everybody’s pulling together, learning teamwork and flexibility. We’ve swallowed pride and accepted help and put aside differences to offer assistance. Tragedy proves it’s not success that defines us as much as the way we deal with failure and disappointment.

  I was supposed to give an inspirational address today to spur the members of our class on to great things, but all I can say is that I hope they don’t wait for a tragedy to move toward their dreams. When this ceremony is over, we’ll toss our caps in the air, and our responsibilities as adults will begin. We are the town council twenty years from now, the preachers and teachers and parents. We are the factory workers and the lawyers and doctors and business owners who will be the heart of this town.

  Nothing is ever certain, our destiny is only a series of our own choices. Life is a wide-open path, with landmines buried in unexpected places, but hard times can be a learning experience. My fellow classmates, choose your path wisely, work hard, and when bad things happen, be flexible. None of our journeys are certain, but we can all find it within ourselves to be good people and make an effort toward our dreams.

  Thank you.

  Clapping started sparsely from students, and then the audience rose as one and applause vibrated the rosy stained glass air. The baby jerked inside her and Shannon gripped the lectern to steady herself. She could see her parents in a pew to her right. They clapped wildly. When Shannon made it back down to her seat, a girl behind her leaned forward and whispered, “That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”