by Aubrey Wynne
When Mama passed, the funeral arrangements had to be made. Laura made sure they ate, dressed, and quietly assisted with the tough decisions. Pa hadn’t the energy to fix himself breakfast let alone pick out a casket or headstone. The helplessness in his father’s dark eyes had sent panic through both his sons.
Max McCall was fearless. He had come home from WWII with the bronze star for bravery and the Purple Heart for a leg injury. But neither a limp nor a closed business stopped his father. He’d re-opened the doors of McCall Motors, working twelve-hour days at cutthroat prices until he had all his customers back.
To see their hero break down now, tears streaming from his face, threatened their world as they knew it. But this young woman of nineteen, with help from the good Lord above, had singlehandedly pulled them from their self-pity. She had kept the focus on Dixie, staying strong for the wife and mother who had given them so much.
The only woman he loved more than Laura Beth Walters was lying in the damp ground at his feet. He sniffed and wiped the mist from his face with a handkerchief, stuffing it back into his breast pocket. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever even the score with her, but he’d spend his last breath trying.
“Mom, I’ve been thinking about Thanksgiving.” Laura filled the cups with lemonade as the mourners filled their plates. “They can’t be alone, and it’s only a couple of weeks away.”
The church basement was filled to capacity. Dixie McCall was well loved in this town, and the residents of Sweet Water wanted her men to know they weren’t alone. There would be plenty of well-meaning invitations, but Laura knew Mr. McCall would avoid the sympathetic looks.
“What were you thinking, honey?” A faint note of worry sounded in her voice. Shirley Walters was a generous and friendly soul. With sleek blonde hair and dark blue eyes, she’d always been a popular around town. But her husband preferred to stay to himself. Socializing was for outside the home when mandated; Glenn Walters’ castle was his private domain. Raised in an orphanage since the age of eight, it was an eccentricity that both women had accepted long ago.
“I have two choices. Either I bring the McCalls home, or I cook dinner at their house.” She gave her mother a quick side-glance. “Which would Daddy consider the lesser of two evils?”
That brought a chuckle. “Strangers sharing his turkey or not having his only child at the table for Thanksgiving? Let me think about that one for awhile.”
Laura Beth snorted. “Strangers! I’ve been dating Joey for three years and practically living at their house for the past month.” Tears threatened again as she thought of Mrs. McCall. “Thanks again for all your help, Mom. I don’t think I could have been so strong for them if it weren’t for you.”
“Oh, pish-posh. I just cooked the meals and sent them along with you. I’ve never been so proud of my girl.” She gave her daughter a hug and kissed her cheek. “Now is when they’ll really need the prayers. It’s the empty house that will test those men in the days to come. All the daily reminders of Dixie that will break their hearts over and over.”
“I don’t know if I’m more concerned for Leroy or his father.” The seven year old stood silently next to Max, gaze downcast, and hands deep in his pockets. “Dixie doted on that boy.”
“The doctor told her she’d never have another child after Joseph. After fourteen years, she called little Roy her miracle baby. I’d spoil him too.” The line dwindled, and Mrs. Walters inspected the crowd. “It’s time we rescued them. They need to eat.”
Joe peeked in Leroy’s bedroom, watching the steady rise and fall of the silent form. The poor kid was going through hell. It was hard enough to lose your mother at twenty-one, let alone at seven. A pair of arms came around him from behind, and he clasped his hands over hers. She laid her head against his back, and her warmth penetrated his tired soul.
“Your father fell asleep in his chair, listening to the radio.”
“When Pa nods off during The Green Hornet, you know he’s bushed.” Joe took her hand, led her back down the hall, and into the kitchen. The dim light over the white porcelain sink left most of the room in shadows. Leaning against the stove, he pulled her close.
“I should be getting home. Do you need anything before I go?”
“You. I need you.” He dipped his head and brushed her lips. The touch sent a familiar heat through him. “You’ve been a godsend. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“I hope you never have to find out.” She reached up and held his face in her small hands. “Your mother and I grew so close while you were away at school. I loved her too. It gave her peace to know I was here for her boys. And it was a way to say thank you for all she’d given to me.”
“And what did she give to you, besides advice? Mama was always good at giving advice.” He chuckled, remembering the opening of so many conversations. Well, if I were you, I would…
“We had long talks about my father. She made me realize that he can’t help some of his quirks. That institutional setting made him protective over his privacy and space.” Laura Beth pushed back a stray lock from his forehead. He closed his eyes at the tender gesture.
“Dixie also pointed out all my father’s good traits. He’s steadfast, a fine provider, indulges most of my requests, and pampers my mother. Did I tell you he’s buying her a television?” She grinned. “Most importantly, he loves his girls to the moon and back. And says so all the time. So, I have come to see him as flawed rather than rigid.”
“I remember several teenage temper tantrums when you couldn’t have girlfriends over.” He put his hands on his hips and gave his best Laura Beth imitation. “I hate him. I absolutely hate him. He refuses to listen to reason.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was ten or twelve. At that age, you always hate anyone tells you no. Anyway, I have your mother to thank for my improved relationship with my father.”
“Mama was forever the peacemaker. No one could calm down Pa like she could.” A pain cracked through him. “I hope eventually something will poke him enough to ruffle his feathers again. He’s like a broken man.”
“Time and prayer will heal his heart. He’ll always feel the loss, but life will go on.” She took her dress coat from the hook by the back door, her cue for Joe to bring her home.
“And where did you learn those words of wisdom?”
Her eyes glistened and she gave him a watery smile. “The infinitely wise Dixie McCall.”
Chapter 3
“Adversity is the diamond dust Heaven polishes its jewels with.”
Thomas Carlyle
One week later
“What do you mean you aren’t going back to Austin? You have two more semesters to finish.” How could he have kept this from her? “I thought you were only taking a break?”
“I am taking a break. A year long break.” Joe sighed. “The college money is gone. I’ll work with Pa at the garage, earn enough for my final semesters, and then finish up next year.”
“And our wedding?”
He had proposed the previous year, and they were to be married as soon as he graduated. They hadn’t bothered with a formal engagement. His class ring had been enough. Joey had worked hard to help his parents put him through school, and money was always tight. She hadn’t minded that or the wait, but another year? No, no, no!
“It will have to be postponed.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. If there was any way I could—”
“Where did the money go?”
His face turned a dull red, reflecting the anger that crept into his voice. “Medical bills. Hospitals are expensive, you know. Was I supposed to argue about money while my mother lay dying? Deny her treatment that could make her more comfortable? It wasn’t my money to begin with.”
Laura looked at his clenched fists and tight lips. She’d never had to worry about money. Not that the McCalls were poor. People just didn’t budgt for that kind of sickness. “I’m sorry. It must be so frustrating for you, so close to graduation.” Tears of gu
ilt burned the back of her eyes. “I’m just ready to start our life together.”
He twisted in the front of seat of the ’47 Chevy and pulled her close. “And I’m sorry for raising my voice. I know it’s frustrating but it’s only a year. We’re lucky Pa’s hired mechanic got drafted, or I’m not sure what I’d do. Slinging sodas at Berkley’s sure wouldn’t pay my tuition.”
He was right. They needed to count their blessings. She picked at her skirt, disappointment building in her chest. “I suppose it will give your dad and brother more time to get used to the idea of being alone.”
They had talked about different newspaper or radio stations where Joe would apply for a position as a reporter or a commentator. He preferred field reporting, which would mean relocation to a big city. But all these plans to move away had been made before his mother died.
“Look at it this way. Your mom and Betsy have more time for your wedding plans. We had talked about June, so it will be the following June.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll only love you more by then, if that helps any.”
Her mother’s voice echoed in her ear. You have your whole lives in front of you. Be patient. And Betsy Schroeder would be thrilled to have her best friend around for another year. “If you love me any more, I’ll burst. Besides, I won’t finish my secretarial training until May. A year at an office, practicing my shorthand, will help my resume when we settle somewhere.”
This had been another point of contention between them that had taken months to settle. Joe wanted his wife to stay at home and take care of their growing family. She had argued that prices were higher in a big city, and an extra income would tide them over until Joe’s career took off. Not to mention the time he might be away from home if he was sent away on assignments. Laura Beth did not want to sit in a tiny apartment by herself with a baby to take care of and no support nearby. They would wait a year or two before having children.
“Now about Thanksgiving,” Joe said in a hesitant voice. “I don’t know what kind of divine intervention took place to get your father to agree, but are you sure this will be all right?”
“It’ll be fine, hon. Daddy couldn’t imagine his little girl being somewhere else on a holiday, so he gave in.”
“That’s my point. I don’t like being considered an ultimatum.” He held out his palm to stop the denial. “We’ll be family soon, but we aren’t yet. He didn’t smile at me until after I proposed.”
“He knew you were serious then.” Laura smiled, remembering her father’s comments about buying the milk or getting it for free. Her mother would slap him on the shoulder and tell him to mind his words. But after the engagement was official, Daddy had nodded in approval.
“I’ve been serious about you since the day Roger Willard bought you a malt. I saw him give you the eye yesterday.”
His look of disgust made her giggle. “He’s very happy with Betsy now, so stop.”
“I hope so, ‘cuz he ain’t gettin’ my gal.” He laid the twang on thick as his fingers fiddled with the top button of her coat, traced her lips, and finally circled the hollow of her throat. “Dang, you’re beautiful Laura Beth.”
The Mills Brothers came on the radio as his lips touched hers. She smiled as the lyrics filled the car, her knees knocking together to the beat.
Shine little glow-worm, glimmer, glimmer
Her eyes closed as the familiar passion grew in her belly.
Lead us lest too far we wander.
His hand moved to the next button and the next.
Love’s sweet voice is calling yonder!
She put her palm over his hand and continued kissing him, but he pulled back. Tension replaced the warmth and made her shiver.
Hey there don’t get dimmer, dimmer.
“I’m sorry, Joey. But I can’t…especially with the wedding postponed now—”
A ragged sigh escaped his lips, and he touched his forehead to hers. “I know. I just need you so badly.” The huskiness in his voice sent her heart pounding. “You keep me sane, Laura Beth. I want to fold you up and keep you in my pocket.”
“You say the silliest things!” But another kiss cut off her next words and her breath. She loved this man like crazy, and nothing would stop them from getting married. He was hers, heart and soul.
“Son, you’ve got some mail.”
The tone of his father’s voice sent a chill through Joey. He looked over his shoulder, straightened up, and smacked his head on the hood of the Crosley station wagon. Rubbing his scalp then wiping oily hands on his overalls, he walked across the garage. Pa handed him the envelope with an official-looking seal in the corner.
Joe held it as if it were poison. “Do you want me to open it, son?”
He shook his head, the pulse beating rapidly in his neck. With trembling fingers, he tore at the paper. The words blurred as he sunk onto the couch. “It’s a conscription notice,” he whispered, looking into his father’s terrified eyes. “I’m being drafted.”
“It’s my fault.” Max sunk down next to his son with a moan. “If I hadn’t spent your college tuition, you’d be in school right now.”
“It’s nobody’s fault, Pa. You served your time, and now it’s my turn.” He waved the letter in the air. “Maybe we’ll end up with matching limps.” It was a bad attempt at humor, and he wanted to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth. Unlike many of his friends, Joe did not have any romantic ideas about soldiering. His father had been straight up with him about the horrors of war.
“I just pray you come back, boy, and you don’t have to live through what I did.” The lines on his father’s face seemed to have deepened in the last five minutes. He swiped his palms at his eyes and squeezed Joe’s arm as he stood. “When do you go?”
“It says I report for my physical January 2 at ten o’clock.” Maybe he wouldn’t see active combat. He wasn’t chicken, but his father still screamed at night once in awhile. His mother said they were night terrors left over from WWII. “I do have a skill, Pa. I’m sure they need mechanics.”
“That’s true, son. Maybe they’ll have you keep those jeeps running for the generals.” He forced a chuckle. “Go on and get out of here now. It’s Friday night and you’ve got a purty little gal to take to the movie.”
An awkward silence ensued as both men stared at the floor. Laura Beth. How would he tell her? It was bad enough they had to postpone their wedding, but now this? It was just plain bad luck. And they’d all had enough of that for one year. The thought of the tears welling up in those clear, blue eyes made his blood cold. She’d been their savior these past months, and now he would break her heart.
“I’ll get cleaned up, I guess.” Joe headed to the door then stopped. Without turning around he said, “She’s really gonna flip, Pa. I think telling her might be as hard as going.”
“The only thing worse than war was losing your mother, so go on now and get ‘er done.”
Chapter 4
“That is the definition of faith—acceptance of that which we imagine to be true, that which we cannot prove.”
Dan Brown
Joe pulled into the drive, threw the gear into neutral, and let the Chevy idle. He absently played with the red ribbon Laura Beth had tied to his rear view mirror last Valentine’s Day. His fingers stroked the smooth satin as he watched the house. The late afternoon sun shone against the white shutters, and he could see Mrs. Walters—Shirley, he corrected himself—moving in the kitchen. She looked up and waved at him through the spotless glass, and he knew the house would smell of something mouth-watering when he entered. It always did.
What if he kept the news quiet for a bit? Thanksgiving was the day after tomorrow. He’d tell her after that. Pa would understand and keep it under his hat until then. His mood lightened with the reprieve. He turned the ignition off and swung the key ring around his finger, walking up to the front door.
Mr. Walters greeted him. “Good evening, Joe.”
“Evening, sir,” he answered with a nod of h
is head and an outstretched hand. The older man took it, strength and authority emanating from the shake.
“Why don’t you come in and have a seat? I’d like to talk to you.” He turned and headed to the living room, leaving no option but to follow.
Joe tried to calm the panic rising in his throat. They’d only had a few private conversations. The first one had been when he pinned Laura Beth that first year of college. Going steady in high school had been fine, but Joe had wanted to stake his claim while he was away. His jeans had been damp from his sweaty palms by the time he’d hightailed it out of the living room.
The second was to ask permission to marry his daughter. Mr. Walters had been reserved, asking questions about his Laura Beth’s future and financial care. Joe had prepared his speech and was ready. In the end, the old man had puffed on his pipe, nodded his head, and said, “Well, son. If you can wait until after you graduate, then welcome to the family.” They had sealed the deal with a handshake, but he still hadn’t asked Joe to call him Glenn.
Now he perched on the edge of the sofa, watching his future father-in-law settle into the wing-backed chair and fill his pipe. The light tap against the round bowl filled the air as Joe nervously cleared his throat. Mr. Walters struck a match, drew in until a glow appeared, and let out a satisfied puff. The streaks of silver in his hair matched the coils of smoke that curled up to the ceiling.
“Just thought I’d let you know, I’m happy to have your family join us for Thanksgiving.” Gray eyes studied him thoughtfully. “As you know, I’m not one to entertain much at home, but you and yours are always welcome here.”
The man could have bowled Joe over with a feather. He sat for a moment, not knowing what to say. Though well respected in town, Mr. Walters didn’t have any close friends. A CPA relied more on a quick, mathematical mind than a personality. Considered a no-nonsense type of guy, but honest and fair, the Walters Financial Services had become the most successful accounting firm in the area.
