by Dean Hughes
Chuck was dancing in a straight line, his feet pounding a little too emphatically with the beat, and he was working his way straight to Wally. As he got close enough, he said, “Hey, Wally, look who I found.”
Wally stopped dancing, turned, but kept hold of Patty. He planned to say, “Nice to see you, Lorraine,” and then dance away.
“How about we change partners for a dance?” Chuck said.
Wally felt himself clench. He couldn’t do that. He gave his head a little shake, but by then Lorraine was turning, smiling at him, and he felt himself deflate. Her serenity, her maturity—it was all such a contrast to Patty that he suddenly felt he was clinging to a cartoon character, an animated little girl, cute but embarrassing. “Hi, Wally,” Lorraine said.
And Wally did what he had to do. He introduced the girls and listened to Patty say, “Lorraine, I know you. I’ve looked up to you all my life. You’re about the prettiest woman I know.”
Lorraine let that pass and looked at Wally with a warmth that seemed inappropriate. Was she doing this on purpose just to make him feel silly?
Chuck still looked as jittery as ever, but he said to Patty, “I’m Chuck Adair. May I have this dance?”
Patty tossed a pitiful glance at Wally as if to say “Help!” But he didn’t know what to do, and Chuck was soon doing his pounding foxtrot, taking Patty away on another straight line. Lorraine was standing in front of Wally. She reached up, brushed her pretty hair to the side, and said, “It’s just like old times.”
“Not exactly,” Wally said, in defense, and he was rather angry. Chuck had apparently cooked up this plan for some reason, but he couldn’t think why Lorraine would go along with it. Still, he took hold of her, began to dance, and he felt her move with him, perfectly, from the first step. She was taller than Patty, smoother, more relaxed, and with each step she moved closer to him, until they were almost touching. But it hurt to be close to her, and Wally wanted out of the situation as soon as he could be.
After a minute or so, Lorraine let go of his hand, reached up and brushed her hair away again, and as she did, she smiled, and there was something clever, mischievous in her manner, as though she were having fun, trying to tantalize him. It wasn’t like her to act that way. Maybe time had changed her in ways he hadn’t realized.
When the music ended, he said, “Lorraine, I can’t do this. I don’t think we should dance together.”
“Why not?” she asked, and again she smoothed her hair back. It wasn’t a mannerism he remembered, and it seemed awkward, somehow purposeful.
“I just don’t think we should. It bothers me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Lorraine. This isn’t like you. You know what I’m feeling.”
“No, I don’t. Tell me.” Again, there was a style in this that Wally couldn’t identify, a playfulness that seemed almost cruel.
“Don’t do this, Lorraine.” He took hold of her arm, by the elbow. He was going to walk her off the floor, and then he was going to leave. Right now, he felt he could leave Chuck to walk home on his own.
“Wally, let’s just dance one more,” Lorraine said. She brushed her hair aside once again, and this time she left her hand against her cheek.
“No, really, Lorraine. I—”
“Wally, look at my hand.”
For a moment her meaning wasn’t clear to him. And then he saw—even realized—but he couldn’t change his thinking so suddenly. It was too much to believe. And yet, there it was: her bare hand, no ring on her finger. “What . . .” But he couldn’t think what he wanted to ask.
“Wally, I sent the ring back to John. I’m not going to marry him.”
The band began to play again—“Moonlight Becomes You.” Wally felt the dancers begin to move, sensed the motion, but it seemed at the moment that the world had evaporated around them. He took hold of her hand and looked at it again, then looked into her eyes, trying to see what she might be saying to him. He couldn’t think right, and he needed to. He couldn’t presume too much—and then be devastated again.
“Let’s dance,” she said.
This time she came close enough to touch, her hair against his cheek, her softness against his chest, and he was suddenly afraid that he would cry. Nothing this good could happen to him. It wasn’t possible.
The band’s singer, a woman with a pretty, deep voice, was singing, “I’m all dressed up to go dreaming.”
“Wally, I never felt sure about John. I kept telling myself that he was a good choice, but I never really felt sure about it. Finally, I just decided I couldn’t marry someone unless I knew for sure that it was right.”
What did that mean? Maybe it was her way of telling him that she would have to see whether she could ever be sure about Wally. Don’t jump to conclusions, he kept telling himself.
And then she leaned back a little. “Wally, when you left me at home after conference, and you drove away, I felt the way I did clear back when you went into the army. I went into the house and cried and cried. And that’s when I made up my mind. I had to send the ring back.”
Wally was out of breath now. “Is it all right if we leave?” he asked, in a kind of gasp.
“Yes,” she said, and she laughed. “I’m sorry, Wally. I shouldn’t have surprised you this way. I didn’t know when
I could talk to you. I wanted to call, but I wasn’t sure what to say.”
Wally was nodding, and then he was moving her off the dance floor. He did think of Chuck, sort of vaguely, but not enough to slow him down. He escorted her out the door, stopped to get her coat, only waved toward those who greeted him, and kept going to his car in the parking lot. Once he had opened her door, had walked around and sat down behind the steering wheel, he started the car and turned on the heater, but it was blowing cold air, so he turned it back off, and before he thought where he was going to go, he tried to think of the right question.
“Lorraine, what would it take to be sure of someone—so you knew you wanted to marry him?”
She took hold of his hand, waited until he looked at her. There was no moonlight, but there was a light pole not far from the car, and something like moonlight was across her face. “I’d have to know, absolutely, that I was in love with him, and that he loved me. And I’d have to know that he was a truly good man and would always be good to me. And he would have to be strong and worthy, someone I knew I could be with for eternity.”
Wally tried to think of the next question.
“Wally, he would have to be you.”
Wally drew in some air. How could this be true? How could he have gone from nothing to everything in only a few months, only a few minutes?
“I love you, Wally. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
Wally turned and took hold of her shoulders. “Lorraine, you’ve been absolutely everything to me for as long as I can remember.”
He finally took her into his arms, held her for a time, and then moved back enough to kiss her. The soft roundness of her lips was familiar and new at the same time, and the touch sent a numbness through him. He leaned back and looked at her. “Lorraine—”
“Don’t ask me here. Not in this cold, old car. We’re always going to remember this, and it ought to be romantic.”
Wally let his mind run ahead, tried to think when, where, how. What would be romantic? He didn’t want to put this off. His mind ran back the other direction, searching for the things that mattered to them. Then he knew. “Just a minute,” he said. “I’ll be right back,” and he jumped out of the car.
Wally ran to the church and hurried into the recreation hall. He worked his way through the crowd, ignoring a couple of people who tried to talk to him. As he approached the bandstand, he reached for his wallet and pulled out a couple of dollar bills. He found the band leader, who was playing the clarinet at the moment. Wally waited for maybe thirty seconds but couldn’t stand it, and so he interrupted, pushed the bills into the man’s hand, and said, “You must play, ‘I Get Along Without You Very Well.’ Will
you? Next song?”
“Sure,” the man said, a big fellow who was smiling, probably at Wally’s urgency.
But Wally didn’t care. He trotted to a side door, pushed the handle, and swung the door wide open to the cold. He grabbed a young man who was standing nearby. “Listen, I need your help,” he said. He reached into his pocket, found a quarter, and handed it to the boy. “Keep this door open until this next song is over, no matter what. If people ask you what you’re doing, tell them the building was too hot—or something—but stall them until the song is over. It’ll be ‘I Get Along Without You Very Well.’”
The boy was nodding, so Wally took off. He ran halfway to the car before he realized that he had time, that the new song wouldn’t begin for a time. He slowed, tried to catch his breath, tried to think exactly how to handle this. As he approached the car, the previous song ended, and he knew the timing was right. He opened the door on Lorraine’s side and said, “Excuse me. Could I have the next dance? The parking lot is available.”
She smiled when she realized what he was doing, and she said, “And a lovely parking lot it is, sir.” She slid across the seat and then stepped out, reaching for his hand as she did. But the song hadn’t started, and Wally felt as though he would burst during the silence. She seemed entirely agreeable to dancing in the quiet, however, and she put her arm around him. He took her hand and began to dance, setting the rhythm himself.
Then the song began. It came softly from the building, only just audible, but clear enough, and when she heard it, she said, “Oh, Wally, of course. I should have known.”
He kissed her, and then they danced among the cars, in the cold air. She was wrapped up in her coat, but she still felt wonderful next to him. She began to sing, softly, with the band.
How many times had Wally let the words run through his head? How long had he been dreaming that this could happen?
He stopped dancing when he knew that the number couldn’t last much longer. He kept her hand in his, and he knelt on the blacktop, on one knee. “Lorraine,” he said, “will you marry me?”
“Yes, Wally, I will.” She hesitated and then added, “but only on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“That we not wait until spring. Let’s get married right away, okay?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, too aghast to be clever. He stood, and he kissed her again, but he had begun to cry, and so he ended the kiss quickly, and he held her in the silence, after the song had ended. “Father in Heaven, I thank thee for this,” he whispered.
Lorraine was crying by then too, and she told him, “Wally, this was supposed to happen. This is the right thing for both of us.”
Wally was thinking it was the right thing for all his forebears, for all his posterity. It was God being in his life, just when he needed him most.
Wally and Lorraine didn’t forget about Chuck. But they didn’t want to tell him first. So Wally went back and made sure Chuck could get a ride home. And Wally admitted that he had never been so happy in his life—which told Chuck all he needed to know. “How are things going with Patty?” Wally asked.
“She put me on the bench,” Chuck said, grinning. “But I got back in the game. I’ve danced with four other girls.”
“Good! Nice going, Chuck. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“It was terrible. But I feel—you know—like I’ve made a little headway tonight.”
“That’s great. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
And then Wally hurried back to Lorraine. They drove to the Gardner’s house, where Lorraine’s parents admitted that they weren’t surprised, that they had seen this coming for a few days. They even seemed not to mind. Maybe Lorraine had convinced them that Wally really had changed.
Afterward, Lorraine and Wally drove to his house. “Stay on the porch for just a minute,” he told Lorraine. And then he stepped quietly in through the front door. He found his parents sitting in the living room together, both reading.
“Well, you’re home early,” Mom said.
“Yeah. I did about all the dancing I wanted to do.”
“Did you dance with Patty?”
“Yes, I did. She’s pretty, just like you said.”
“Do you want to take her out on a date?”
“Actually . . . I don’t think so. See . . . well . . . something a little surprising happened tonight.”
“What’s that?”
“I got engaged.”
Dad, who hadn’t been paying much attention, looked up from his book. He and Mom both looked amused, as though they were waiting for Wally to tell the rest of the joke.
“Really, I did. I’m getting married right away. That way I won’t have to worry about a lot of dating.”
“Oh, I see,” Mom said. “It’s a wonderful plan. And who is this young lady you’ve chosen to marry? Not Patty?”
“No. Someone else. Do you want to meet her?”
“That might be nice.”
“All right. Just a minute. She’s outside.”
Wally stepped outside, took Lorraine’s hand, and led her through the door, then on through the front entryway and into the living room. As she came out of the darkened area and into the light, Wally saw his mother’s hand leap to her face. “Oh, Lorraine,” she said. “Lorraine. Is this really happening? Are you two serious?”
“We are,” Lorraine said.
Mom was up by then, crying hard, instantly. “This is too wonderful. Too wonderful. It’s what we always wanted.”
Dad was out of his seat by then. He came to Lorraine and took her into his arms. Wally stood and watched, tried to believe it, but he was still trying to convince himself that all this had really happened.
Chapter 11
It was Christmas morning, early. Beverly, in a nightgown and robe, was mixing up dough for hot rolls while Mom was stuffing the turkey. Wally had already driven to Lorraine’s house and brought her back. Over the weekend Wally had bought a ring, and he and Lorraine had made the engagement official. They had spent part of Christmas Eve with Lorraine’s parents and part with the Thomases, and now, before LaRue was even out of bed, here they were in the kitchen.
“Hey, when do we get started?” Wally wanted to know. “I think Santa’s been here.”
“It used to be I couldn’t make you kids stay in bed on Christmas morning,” Mom told Wally. “Now, the girls don’t want to get up.”
“What are you talking about? I’m up,” Beverly said. “And LaRue told me she’d be down in a minute.”
“I’ll bet she rolled over and went right back to sleep,” Mom said, and she laughed. She had put on a dress already and was wearing a pretty white apron, but her hair was still pinned up and wrapped with a scarf.
Beverly didn’t admit it, but she knew her mother was probably right. It would be just like LaRue to stay in bed as long as she could.
“Is Dad still in bed?” Wally asked.
“Are you kidding? He’s in his office. I don’t know what he does in there, now that he’s released, but it’s still his little sanctuary.”
“I’ll go wake LaRue up,” Wally said. “I’ve been looking forward to this too long. I want it to be as much like the old days as possible.”
“Well, it would be a lot better if Bobbi and Alex could come home. I’m feeling a little blue about that this morning. I want to see the baby so bad I can hardly stand it.” She looked up from the turkey for a moment. “We did get some new snapshots of him. They’re over there on the cabinet.”
Beverly got the pictures and showed them to Lorraine, who looked at each shot carefully before she passed them on to Wally. “He’s beautiful,” Lorraine said. “Too pretty to be a boy.”
“What are you talking about?” Wally said. “Us Thomas boys are all beautiful.” He reached out and caught Beverly in a headlock. “And the girls are almost as pretty.”
“Don’t mess up my hair,” Beverly said, but he let go more quickly than she expected—or wanted—so she clung to him, with her arms around
his waist. She still liked to be close to him. She had thought so many times that he ought to be home on Christmas, and now, finally, she had him there. But she also felt the way Mom did. She wanted Bobbi home. And she wanted Alex and Anna, and little Gene. She wanted to hug Gene, and she wanted to play with him on the floor, give him lots of Christmas gifts.
Next year. That could happen next year, everyone said, but that still seemed much too long. She was going to miss knowing him during all these precious months when he was little.
“Richard is coming over this afternoon,” Mom said. “He’s prettier than any of you Thomas boys.”
“That’s right,” Beverly said. “And he’s going to give up on Bobbi one of these days and marry me.”
“That’s what Bev would like, anyway,” Mom said. “She’s got such a crush on that man.”
“Oh, I do not,” Beverly said. “He’s very old. Even older than Wally.” She squeezed Wally harder around the middle.
“Come on,” Wally said. “Let’s go roll LaRue out of bed.”
So Beverly followed him up the stairs, and Wally pounced on LaRue, rubbed her face with his whiskers, tickled her, and then, finally, pulled her out of bed by the arm. She ended up on the floor, looking frazzled but not upset. Wally could always get away with things she would have thrown a fit about, had anyone else tried.
“Leave me alone,” she said. “I’ll get ready. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll take an hour,” Wally said. “And it’s Christmas. I don’t want to wait to open my presents.”
“I won’t take a bath now. I won’t wash my hair. I’ll jut run a brush through it and put on my robe.”
“Okay. It’s a deal. I’ll give you thirty seconds—no, one full minute—to get downstairs.”
“Hey, give me time to go to the bathroom, for crying out loud.”
“I did. That’s why I added thirty seconds.” Then he turned around and looked at Beverly, who had stayed close to the door. “Come on, Bev,” he said. “Let’s go open LaRue’s presents for her.”
LaRue was up now, heading toward her closet. “You’d better not,” she muttered, but Wally was already flying downstairs. “Hey, Dad,” he was yelling. “Come on out. LaRue’s going to be here in one minute, and the festivities will begin.”
