We looked anything but happy.
“Anyhow,” she went on, “here is Thelma’s Way’s very own barbershop quartet, One Note.”
Toby, Wad, and Roswell walked into the center of the crowd. They linked arms and began to sing. I couldn’t understand why they thought they were a barbershop quartet, seeing as how there were only three of them. If forced to speculate, I would have guessed they must have thought that Wad’s being a barber was close enough. How they got their group’s name, however, was perfectly obvious. They all knew only one low deep note, making their music sound like one continual belch. After each number I felt like saying, “Excuse you.” On their third number they added some choreography. Roswell would swing Toby on his elbow while Wad would cross his knees and wink in our direction. Then they would line up and try to go up and down in sync.
Unfortunately, Roswell’s old knees quickly ruined any fluid movements they got going. So they just stuck with a lot of hand waving and hat tipping. During their fourth number quite a few people got up to leave. Sister Watson, feeling their pain, kicked Toby in the back of the leg to get him to turn around and look at her. When he did, she slid a finger across her throat to signal them to hurry up and end their act. They wrapped things up, and Toby told the gathering that if anyone was interested in autographs, the group would be over by the catapult right after they got a little something to eat and Roswell put ointment on his knees.
I think the crowd was star struck—or speechless.
“Before we have a toast,” Sister Watson announced, “Pete Kennedy and Ed Washington have a special cheer they would like to do for the newlyweds.” She motioned for them to come up.
“Well, Grace is like a sister to us,” Pete said kindly. “And, well, Trust—he’s become a brother. So we’d like to give a special holler to celebrate our brother and sister getting married.”
I tried not to cringe too openly.
“Give me a C,” Ed began.
The whole crowd yelled, “C.”
“Give me an E,” Pete followed.
They gave us their best E.
“Give me an L.”
They had lost a few, but a majority was still participating.
“Give me an I,” Pete screamed.
Only about half said anything. I think everyone was thrown off by the misspelling of what we all assumed would be celebrate.
“Give me a B,” Ed whooped.
Only a few of our locals, who had not yet noticed the misspelling, yelled back.
“Give me an A.” Pete put his hands together as if motioning the crowd to clap.
“Give me a T,” Ed said with uncertainty, obviously thrown off by the nonparticipating crowd.
“Give me another E!” Pete tried to make the ending strong.
No one said anything. The crowd was silent. A skinny man with a ball cap three tables back coughed. Pete and Ed slinked off in cheer defeat.
“I think they were trying to spell celebrate,” I said to Grace, as if she might possibly not have known that.
“I think their mistake was very appropriate.”
Before I could act hurt, Sister Watson was talking again. “Thank you, Pete and Ed,” she said. “Now I understand why you were looking around for a dictionary earlier. Anyhow, it is now time for the toast,” Sister Watson informed us all.
President and Sister Heck stepped up by her, and she figuratively handed President Heck the spotlight.
“Grace, Trust,” he waved us over.
I stuck out my hand for Grace to take it, but she kept her hands folded and walked over all by herself. I followed closely behind, trying to make it look as if we actually liked each other.
President Heck signaled for us to take a seat. Grace sat first, and I sat as close to her as I could without making her madder.
“This is a happy day,” President Heck began. “I know I’m particularly thrilled, seeing as how I’ve never had a son before.”
Patty Heck elbowed him. “What about Digby?” she whispered through clenched teeth.
“Aside from Digby,” he said defensively. “I appreciate you all coming out. I know that it means a lot to Trust and Grace.”
I looked around at everyone I didn’t know and wondered how I would ever thank them all.
President Heck went on and on, talking about us and the importance of the decision we had made, while Grace and I sat side by side trying to appear happy.
“I really am sorry.” I smiled.
“Knock it off, Trust.” She smiled back.
“We have to talk about this.” I gazed at her affectionately.
“There’s nothing to say,” she cooed.
“That’s it, then?” I said with love in my voice.
“Am I just supposed to forgive you?” She batted her eyelashes.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I whispered.
“It was strike three, Trust.”
President Heck finished his toast, and Sister Lando and Nippy Ward wheeled out a big cake that said “Happy Hitchin” on it. Janet Bickerstaff handed me a knife and the crowd watched in anticipation. I cut a slice and tried to feed it to Grace. She nibbled a corner, and I followed tradition and pushed it into her face. I was hoping the playful banter might ease the tension. It didn’t. I cut a piece for her to give to me. After making it clear that she wasn’t going to pick it up, I did, and pushed it into my own face. I think it was then that the crowd really began to sense the problems in our relationship. Sister Watson made her way up to us and hissed at us to smile.
It was hopeless. I had never felt worse. I would have pleaded with Grace a little more, but all the locals were suddenly whispering about something. I looked to see what the fuss was about and spotted Paul walking our way. He had not been seen since he had burned down the boardinghouse. He walked right up to us and stopped.
“What do you want?” Sister Watson stepped up to him.
“I have a right to be here,” he insisted.
“You burned that right,” Roswell growled.
“I came back because I’ve got big news,” he announced.
“We thought you were dead,” Toby said, uninterested in his announcement.
“I could have been,” Paul said. “The current was too strong to swim across.”
“You went down the falls?” I asked, knowing that it was dangerous but having lived through it myself.
“That’s the big news,” Paul said. “There ain’t no falls no more.”
“What do you mean?” President Heck asked.
“They’re gone,” he insisted. “There’s nothing but a bunch of water. I floated to a stop someplace well past the falls. It took me a couple days to make my way back. But I’m sure as sugar there’s no falls.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard since Pete claimed he saw that fairy,” Sister Watson said with vigor.
“It’s true,” Pete defended. “She was pink and floating.”
“I don’t care about no fairies,” Paul said. “But there is no falls anymore.”
“I’ve never heard a bigger or dumber lie,” Sister Watson forced herself to say.
“It’s true,” said a man sitting at a nearby table and eating cake. He had been eavesdropping and now wanted to join the conversation.
“Who are you?” Sister Watson asked, bothered.
“I’m from the state road department.”
“You’re here about the road?” she asked, showing him a little more respect.
“Well, sort of,” he hemmed. “I was initially going to come out here for the road, but then when I talked to my supervisor, he informed me that there were no people in this area.”
“He’s wrong,” Teddy threw in.
“I guess so,” the man said. “That’s why we’ve got a real problem.”
“Don’t tell me we don’t get a road,” Sister Watson said sadly. “Just ’cause you didn’t think we were here doesn’t mean we don’t need one.”
“Actually, the problem is bigger than that.
” He tried to sound friendly. “The state has dammed up the lower-forty dike. In a short while your town will be a big lake.”
“What?” everyone hollered.
“This area’s slated to be a lake bottom.”
“You can’t do that,” Roswell shouted.
“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Sister Watson demanded.
“I was going to,” he explained. “But I wanted to have a piece of cake first.”
“Not that sooner,” Sister Watson ranted. “Sooner as in before you dammed up anything.”
“Like I said, we didn’t know you were here.”
“See, I told you the falls were gone,” Paul gloated.
“What about Triply Cove below the falls?” President Heck asked. “What happened to all those folks?”
“They were moved out long ago. In fact, our contact there was supposed to make sure that everyone here knew this was happening.”
“I can’t believe this,” Toby said sadly. “How could you have overlooked us?”
“These things happen.”
“Well, you’ll just have to undam it,” Roswell insisted.
“That could be tricky,” he tisked. “Besides, the state will pay you good money for your land and relocate you somewhere else.”
“How much money?” Roswell asked.
I turned to ask Grace if she could believe all of this, but she was gone. She had fulfilled her duty and was done. I looked for any traces of her but saw none. Most of the gathering was still talking and eating and coming and going. The line broke up, and the man from the state helped himself to a second piece of cake while answering questions.
We were in the final days of Thelma’s Way.
38
Sunday Sick
The next morning we were all in shock. Everyone just shuffled around the meadow, cleaning up from the reception and trying to think of something other than the fact that our town was drowning. President Heck announced that we would have a late worship service so that everyone could have some time to mourn.
The man from the state had been quite clear on the point that it couldn’t be stopped. He insisted that everyone simply take the money they would be offered and move on. He claimed that the state was doing us a favor, that no one would pay more for this forgotten land, and that they were giving everyone a chance to move somewhere normal. He tried to convince Sister Watson this was a good thing by explaining that she could move someplace where there were lots of paved roads.
She wasn’t convinced. In fact, she was so angry she chased him out of town.
Teddy Yetch chained herself to the cemetery gates in protest. She vowed never to leave. But as the first hour stretched on, she became uncomfortable and went back to her house, where she promised she would stay until she needed to go out.
Paul was cashing in on our town’s being unable to focus on more than one thing at a time. With everyone up in arms about becoming a lake, no one seemed to fuss about his having burned down the boardinghouse. Seeing the silver lining in this calamity, Paul jumped on the bandwagon and began speaking louder than anyone about what a great injustice this was. He and Sister Watson were organizing an emergency fireside meeting for this evening, the purpose of which was to discuss and commiserate about all the horrible things happening to our town.
Leo and CleeDee had sent word from the mobile home that they felt sorry for us and they were praying for our plight. I figured they had forgotten that they actually lived here. Leonard was livid as well. He couldn’t believe how the laws of the land kept batting him around. First his hang-ups in Southdale, and now the free land he was going to be given was going to be made a lake bottom. Just when things seemed as confusing as they possibly could get, Thelma’s Way got a visitor.
My father.
He strode into town in midafternoon. I didn’t see him coming as much as I heard him coming. Everyone was clapping and cheering as if welcoming home a long-lost hero. I didn’t know how to feel. I was standing by the wagons picking up pieces of crepe paper when he walked up to me.
“Dad,” I said emotionlessly.
“Trust.”
The whole town was completely shocked.
“He’s your . . .” Sister Watson gasped.
“You’re his . . .” Paul pointed at me.
“How is it possible?” Pete asked.
Miss Flitrey pulled Pete aside to explain a few things about life.
Toby looked us both up and down and then whistled. “I can’t believe we hadn’t figured it out before. I ain’t never seen such twin noses.”
“But you never told us you were Trust’s father,” Sister Watson said in disbelief.
“I should have,” my dad said. “But I didn’t want you to treat me any different from anyone else.”
“Heck,” Jerry said, “we would have still been nice to you.”
My father smiled. “What happened to the boardinghouse?”
“Paul,” was all Sister Watson said.
“The important thing is that you’re back.” Paul shifted the conversation to where it had been before he came up.
Everyone patted my father on the shoulders and back. I couldn’t believe how much my people seemed to love him. I wondered how they would feel if they knew his real reason for liking them.
After a couple of minutes of greeting, my father spoke. “Can I talk to Trust for a moment?” he asked the audience.
Everyone nodded, staying exactly where they were. We moved away towards the cemetery.
“Mom told me you found out,” he said when we were alone. “She forgot to mention it until last night. I took the first flight out.”
“Why’d you come here?” I asked, still not knowing how to feel.
“To explain.”
“How about the first time you came? What was your motive then?”
“I bet you have a pretty good idea,” he answered.
“To get the Book of Mormon,” I said with disgust.
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“I may have come here for that, but I left here not caring one ounce about it anymore.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I love this place, son. I love that you served here, and I love these people.”
“You love this place?” I asked in disbelief.
“I didn’t at first,” he explained. “At first I couldn’t imagine how you had made it more than two weeks here. But then these people started to grow on me. Right before the accident, I was packed and ready to get out. I was afraid of how I was feeling. After the accident, I knew I was hooked.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me you had been here?”
“I was going to,” he defended himself. “You have to understand. I had never experienced anything like when I had stayed here. My whole life has changed thanks to these people and this dirt.” Dad picked up a handful of earth and let it fall to the ground.
“I was also embarrassed about what had brought me here in the first place,” he added. “I didn’t even know the name of the town, even though you had served here two years. And yet I gave it my full attention as soon as I knew there was something I wanted. I’m sorry, Trust.”
“I still don’t believe it,” I said, not yet ready to give up my feelings of betrayal.
“I don’t know what else to say,” he said sincerely.
It’s not as if I didn’t want everything he was claiming to be true, because I did. I wanted him to feel as attached to Thelma’s Way as I did. I just didn’t want to be made a fool. My father had gone a long time not caring about anything besides business and gain. Now he was expecting me to believe that he had experienced the same sort of growth spurt during his two months here that I had experienced in two long years.
“How does Mom feel about all of this?” I asked.
“She’s all right,” he answered. “She still has a hard time understanding the importance you and I place on Thelma’s Way.”
“That makes sense,”
I said. “I’m not sure I always understand it.”
“How is Grace? I didn’t see her.” He looked around.
“Well,” I sighed, “we’re not exactly speaking at the moment.”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Don’t blow it with her,” he said kindly. “She means more to our family than I think you realize. Abel and Margaret would never speak to you again.”
“I’m not trying to blow it,” I insisted. “I just have a way of making things more confusing than they need to be.”
“I’d like to see her.”
“Throw in a couple of good words for me,” I joked.
“Is she at home?” he asked.
“I assume so.”
My father put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes. Apparently he couldn’t find any more words to use because he turned and walked off. I watched the back of him as he hiked up over the small hill right in front of us.
“I think you should believe him,” a voice said from above.
I thought for a moment that the heavens were asking me to be charitable. As it turns out, however, it was only Leonard sitting up in a tree right above me. He shifted on his branch, and small flecks of bark floated down into my eyes.
“You were listening?” I rubbed my eyes.
“Don’t cry,” Leonard pleaded. “I just couldn’t help hearing,” he said, swinging to a lower branch and sliding down the trunk. He planted himself on the ground, raising his arms like a dismounting gymnast.
“I’m not crying,” I corrected him.
“No need to worry. I won’t tell a soul,” he comforted me. “Hey, did you know Pete was bawling like a baby when he found out about the town going under? Don’t tell him I told you, though.”
“Leonard, what do you want?”
“I don’t want anything,” he insisted. “I was just trying to find a few minutes alone, and you and your father interrupted me.”
“We didn’t know you were up there.”
“I guess thoroughness is simply another outdated virtue.”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“By the way, what do you think of that Watson woman?” he asked me.
“Sister Watson? She’s fine,” I said, wondering why he was bringing her up.
Love's Labors Tossed Page 17
