Beyond the Carousel

by Bette Lee Crosby

  “So what do you do now?” Emory asked.

  “Nothing. I’m retired.”

  “Don’t you get bored just sitting around all day?”

  Otto shook his head. “If I got nothing else to do, I go play cards or shoot pool with the guys at the club. Then I stay for dinner.”

  “What about Hilda? Doesn’t she mind?”

  “She’s only here on Thursday, so my going to the club is no skin off her nose.”

  “You’ve got a wife who’s only home on Thursday?”

  Otto twitched his brow and gave Emory a strange look.

  “Marjorie’s been dead some twenty-two years,” he said. “Hilda’s the woman my son-in-law sends over to clean up a bit and stick a casserole in the oven.”

  He leaned in and whispered as if he were telling a secret. “Hilda’s cooking is terrible, which is why I eat at the club more often than not. Sixty cents for the daily special, and it’s way better than Hilda’s cooking.”

  Emory laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got it made.”

  “Listen, I worked long and hard to get here, so whatever fun I get I’ve got coming.”

  He finished his beer and stood. “I’m gonna have another; how about you?”

  Emory grinned. “Yeah, think I’ll join you.”

  When they finished the second beer, Otto said he was off to the club for dinner and asked if Emory would like to join him. That evening the club special was short ribs and Emory declared it so good he asked for seconds, which were free. It was the first of many nights that he and Otto would spend at the Elks Club.

  The Following Months

  In the months that came, Christine and Jack drove to Wyattsville several times to spend the weekend visiting Emory. While Christine was off in the kitchen fixing dinner, Jack sat in the parlor with Emory listening to stories of things that once were. Emory told how during the war Laura worked as a stamper at the steel mill and he’d planted victory gardens for every woman on the block.

  “It might not seem like it, but those were good times,” he said. “Not for everybody because there were a lot of gold stars hanging in the windows.”

  “Was that how Christine’s daddy died?” Jack asked.

  Emory shook his head in the most sorrowful way imaginable. He leaned forward with his shoulders hunched and his knobby hands dropped down between his knees. Then he began to tell the story of Franklin’s death.

  “Those were tough years. A lot of people lost money; some lost everything. But what happened wasn’t Franklin’s fault. He told people to take their money out of the market while they still could. Unfortunately, most of them didn’t listen. The way things were going you could almost see trouble coming.”

  Jack leaned closer and asked, “How was Franklin involved?”

  “He was a stockbroker,” Emory replied. “One of the best. When the market dipped the first time and then bounced back, he told George Feldman to get out. George refused. Instead he put more money in, thinking he’d make a killing.”

  “I take it he didn’t,” Jack said.

  “Right. The company went belly up, and he lost everything. A week later Franklin was working late, and Feldman found him in the office. He stood there and fired six shots into Franklin’s chest.”

  Jack’s jaw dropped open. “Dear God.”

  Deep crevices lined Emory’s face, and he took on a look older than his years.

  “I was the one who found Franklin. That night I swore I’d find the killer and make him pay, but I never did. The police didn’t either.”

  “But didn’t they know it was this George Feldman?”

  “They knew, but by then the man had left town. Vanished off the face of the earth. Sergeant Carroll followed up every lead, but nothing ever came of it. After three or four years, they stopped looking.”

  “It would seem there was some way—”

  “You might think,” Emory said. “But the country was in the middle of a depression, and people were struggling to put food on the table. Following up on a murder that happened years earlier wasn’t all that important.”

  Eventually they moved on to other topics of conversation but the thought of such an injustice got stuck in Jack’s head, and he continued to think about it.

  From time to time he would ask questions, and months later Emory pulled the briefcase from beneath his bed to show the newspaper clippings that told of the story. A glassy-eyed George Feldman was featured on the front page of the Wyattsville Register.

  Over the months, Emory came to feel about Jack as he did Franklin. He never was happy with the thought of his being a policeman but consoled himself with the knowledge that unlike Franklin, at least Jack had a gun to protect himself. Although Emory was not an avid churchgoer he believed in the power of prayer, and every morning he asked that both Jack and Christine be kept from harm.

  “Our family’s already seen enough tragedy,” he’d say, then close with an amen.

  * * *

  When Christine and Jack said they’d selected April eleventh as the date for their wedding, Emory insisted on paying for the reception.

  “Oh, Granddaddy,” Christine said, “that’s way too much money for you to be spending.”

  “Nonsense,” he huffed. “At my age I’ve got little else to spend it on, and you and Jack are the only family I have.”

  By then Emory had joined the Wyattsville Elks Club, and the Exalted Ruler, who’d taken a liking to him, was more than happy to make arrangements for the affair to be held in the Richmond clubhouse. The Elks Club in Richmond was nearly three times the size of the one in Wyattsville, so Emory told them to invite as many friends as they wanted.

  “This is my treat,” he said and insisted on paying for everything, even Christine’s dress.

  “I can’t let you do that, Granddaddy. I’m working and I can afford to buy—”

  Emory pinched his brows together and squared his jaw. “Would you deny an old man the pleasure of doing for his family?”

  Seeing the look of determination stretched across his face, Christine laughed.

  “No, sir,” she said. “I wouldn’t dream of doing that.”

  The month of March flew by as preparations were made. Angie, now Christine’s closest friend, helped her shop for a wedding gown. Once a favorite was picked, she telephoned Emory and asked him to come to Richmond to put his stamp of approval on the selection.

  That Saturday they went to the bridal shop together. She stepped into the dressing room, and when she reappeared wearing a white satin dress fitted at the top with a billowing skirt, long white gloves and a small beaded crown, Emory eyed her with a look of adoration.

  “Beautiful,” he said and brushed away a tear with the back of his hand.

  Afterward they went back to her apartment, and Jack joined them.

  “You’re a lucky man,” Emory told him.

  Jack wrapped an arm around Christine’s waist and planted a kiss on her cheek.

  “Don’t I know it,” he said and smiled.

  That evening the three of them squeezed around the tiny kitchen table to eat the spaghetti and meatballs Christine made.

  “I guess this is kind of crowded,” she said apologetically.

  Emory laughed. “It’s what your mama would have called intimate.”

  He launched into telling of the cold water flat he and Rose lived in.

  “Now that apartment was small. It had one little bedroom, and Laura slept in the alcove on a built-in bed.” He gave a chuckle of fond remembrance. “It wasn’t even a real bed, just a bunch of boards I’d hammered together.”

  That night Christine insisted he stay over, and Emory did.

  He slept on the sofa. As he lay there, he thought back on how far the family had come since the days of living in that apartment. He could still remember the day they’d received the letter saying his daddy had left him all that money. What a difference it had made in their lives. Emory had some money in the bank, but given the increased price of things it was nowher
e near as much as his daddy had. He lay there wishing he could do for Christine what his daddy had done for him.

  That’s when he came up with the plan.

  The Wedding

  April eleventh dawned with a clear blue sky and the fragrance of jasmine floating on the air. Christine knew the moment she opened her eyes it was going to be a glorious day. She was just setting the coffee on to brew when the telephone rang.

  “Are you excited?” Angie said.

  “Beyond belief,” Christine answered. “Poor Granddaddy slept on the sofa again last night, so I hope he’s not too cramped to walk me down the aisle.”

  “I heard that,” Emory called out jokingly.

  Christine laughed. “I’ve gotta go fix breakfast. See you at the church.”

  “In the vestry, four o’clock, right?”

  “Right,” Christine echoed. “Should I call and remind the other girls?”

  “I’ll do it,” Angie replied and hung up.

  It had been months in the planning, but now every last detail had been taken care of. The flowers would be delivered to the church, and the Elks Club had set out tables and chairs to accommodate 200 guests. On each table there was a small arrangement of roses and baby’s breath.

  Emory purchased a new suit and tie for the event even though he doubted he’d have occasion to wear it again. And the previous afternoon before arriving at Christine’s, he’d stopped by the club to check on the set-up. Everything was ready; the only thing left to do was to enjoy the party.

  At precisely five o’clock, the organist pumped down on the pedals and began the prelude. By then most of the guests were seated. Jack’s parents beamed from the front row with an empty seat beside them awaiting Emory’s arrival. Behind them was a row of guests from the Wyattsville Elks Club: Otto, two middle-aged bachelors and the Exalted Ruler with his wife.

  All the other seats were taken, filled by the girls from the telephone company, off-duty policemen, friends, neighbors and even a distant cousin of Jack’s who’d come all the way from Kentucky. Jack and Walter Preston, a fellow officer he’d chosen as his best man, walked down the aisle, stepped to the side and waited. Other than the sound of the organ, the church was silent.

  Jack shifted nervously, listening for the sound that had become familiar. The few minutes he waited seemed like hours. Then he heard it: the click of her high heels against the marble floor. After so many nights of sitting on the bench and waiting for her to come from the telephone company building, he knew the sound of her step. He craned his neck and looked toward the foyer, and at that moment the organist broke into Here Comes the Bride.

  Everyone stood and turned to look toward the foyer. Angie was first down the aisle. She wore a pink princess cut dress that hung long and swished across the floor with each step she took. When she reached the end of the aisle, Angie stepped to the right and stood beside Walter.

  Christine appeared in the entranceway standing arm in arm with her granddaddy. Seconds before they started down the aisle, Emory leaned over and whispered in her ear.

  “You look as beautiful as your mama did,” he said.

  Christine turned to him and touched her hand to his face.

  “Thank you, Granddaddy,” she replied.

  They walked as they had rehearsed, with slow measured steps. At the end of the aisle, Emory lifted the veil from her face, kissed her cheek and then turned to Jack.

  “I am giving you my greatest treasure,” he said. “See that you care for her as I would.”

  “You can trust that I will,” Jack said solemnly.

  He stepped in beside Christine and took her hand in his as Emory moved back to sit alongside Jack’s parents.

  “We are gathered here today…” Pastor Reed began. He continued and read from Corinthians, reminding them that love is patient and kind. That it keeps no record of wrongs and is not easily angered.

  “In the end,” he said, “we are left with three things: faith, hope and love. And the greatest of these is love.”

  He asked if Christine would take Jack Mahoney to be her lawfully wedded husband.

  She smiled and answered, “I do.”

  He turned and asked Jack if he would forever love, honor and cherish Christine, but it seemed almost an unnecessary question. The look on Jack’s face foretold the answer.

  Once they were pronounced husband and wife, Jack took Christine in his arms and kissed her. The organ, which had remained silent throughout the ceremony, came to life with a rousing rendition of The Wedding March, and they started back down the aisle.

  The reception turned out to be a gala such as the Elks Club had never before seen. When a spring breeze lifted the sound of the music into the air and carried it through the streets of Richmond, folks sitting on their front porches began tapping their feet and humming along. The happiness of that day bubbled over. Although it was not something that anyone could have predicted, before the year was out three of the young policemen were engaged to the telephone company girls they met that evening.

  The band was hired to play for three hours but stayed until the last guest wandered off, which was sometime close to midnight, and they didn’t charge a dime extra. At the end of the evening, no one could say exactly when Jack and Christine left the party except Emory. A few minutes before ten they’d taken him aside and thanked him.

  “It was the most wonderful wedding ever,” Christine said and threw her arms around his neck. “And you’re the best granddaddy in all the world!”

  Jack said pretty much the same thing; then he hugged Emory to his chest.

  As Emory stood there watching them slip away, he couldn’t help but think how much Jack Mahoney reminded him of Franklin.

  It’s odd I didn’t see that right off, he thought.

  Feeling good about life, he wiped away the smudge of lipstick she’d left on his cheek then returned to the reception. They say before the night was over Emory Hawthorne danced with every young woman at the party, and no one young or old had a better time than he did.

  New Beginning

  Jack and Christine spent the first night of their honeymoon at the Algonquin Hotel. Somehow it seemed only fitting.

  Jack was the one who’d suggested it, and, remembering that her mama and daddy had also began their married life here, Christine was thrilled with the idea. When they arrived in the bridal suite, there was a bottle of chilled champagne waiting for them. Jack popped the cork and filled both glasses. He handed one to Christine, then touched his glass to hers.

  “A toast,” he said. “To our forever.”

  At the reception it had been a whirlwind of conversations with family and old and new friends, drifting dreamily across the floor to the soft strains of There’s a Tree in the Meadow and then kicking up their heels to the lindy hop. Now it was a quiet time; a time for just the two of them.

  Jack took her in his arms and kissed her mouth, first tenderly then hungrily.

  “I love you more than you could possibly know,” he whispered as he slowly undid each button along the back of her gown.

  “I love you just as much,” she replied as she gave herself to him.

  They made love, not frantically but slowly and sweetly, each touch meaningful and in the right place at the right time. He breathed in the scent of gardenia on her skin, and she ran her hands across the sinewy muscles of his back. Afterward they fell back against the pile of pillows, their bodies spent but their souls united.

  The next morning they drove to New York City and spent three nights at the Essex House in a room overlooking Central Park. Each morning they slept late then called downstairs to have coffee and pastries sent to their room.

  New York was a city of a million pleasures. Christine said she had always wanted to see Radio City Music Hall so they went to see A Date with Judy and sat in the third balcony, which was so high it made her feel almost dizzy. When they left the theatre she all but danced along the sidewalk singing It’s a Most Unusual Day.

  The days flew by
as they strolled Fifth Avenue, browsing the shop windows of stores such as Saks and Tiffany. They did all the things tourists usually do, including a visit to the top of the Empire State Building and a lunch of hot dogs from the mustached man with an umbrella cart.

  On the last evening they went dancing at the Starlight Ballroom, and Christine wore the brand new silk dress she’d splurged on at Lord and Taylor. It was the blue of her eyes and had a stylish cinched waist with a full skirt. After she’d slipped it over her head and announced she was ready to go, Jack gave a low wolf whistle.

  “You look like a movie star,” he said.

  “I feel like one in this dress,” she replied then twirled around like a ballerina.

  He caught her in his arms and kissed her.

  If Christine had to pick the one night of her life that was perfect beyond her wildest dreams, it would be that night. They drank champagne, had dinner and danced atop the Waldorf Astoria beneath a sky filled with stars. On that last night as they were lying in the bed, giddy with the romance of the evening and exhausted from all they’d done, Christine’s thoughts flickered back to the years she’d spent with her mama. She moved closer and snuggled deeper into his arms.

  “Promise me one thing,” she said.

  “Anything,” Jack replied.

  “Promise me you will never leave me to face life alone.”

  They’d spoken of this before. It was the one thing she feared. For a policeman danger was a constant. It hid in the shadows like an ominous stranger. Always waiting. Always threatening.

  Jack knew what she wanted to hear and was painfully aware such a promise was not his to give. He gave a wistful sigh and tried to offer an alternative that would put her heart at ease.

  “Tomorrow is a guarantee only God can give,” he said. “But this I can promise: I will always be with you in this life and beyond.”