Children of the Promise

by Dean Hughes

  Bea pulled a chair away from the dining room table and sat down by the phone. She had gotten a new telephone with her new furniture and replaced the old wall phone with one of the new ones that sat on a shelf. At least she didn’t need to stand up to the old phone anymore, but she hated the plastic smell of this one. “Alex, I shouldn’t say this, but I enjoy watching you try to figure out this child-raising thing. It’s not so easy, is it?”

  “No. But I think Anna and I have to face some things you didn’t. Gene never has adjusted to me the way I figured he would.”

  Bea laughed. “Oh, Alex. The adjustments never stop. It’s just one thing after another. Your dad and I are still working things out.”

  “What an encouraging thought,” Alex said, his voice sounding a little lighter now.

  “You know what, though? It’s worth it. I was just thinking this afternoon, I love Al more than I ever did when we were young.”

  “Really?”

  “I know that sounds funny to you, but we’ve been through so many things together. I think back, and when we were newly married, like you and Anna, we hardly knew each other. There are all kinds of ways that two people blend together without knowing it, and all sorts of differences that have to be worked out. But newlyweds don’t deal with most of those things. I was mad at your dad this afternoon—really mad—and a few minutes later I was thinking how much I love him.”

  “I can’t imagine loving Anna any more than I already do, Mom, but I didn’t know that everyday life would be so

  complicated. I didn’t think I could ever be mad at her, but . . . well, you know how it is.”

  “Oh, yes. I know how it is.”

  “She’s sitting here listening to this, and she just stuck her tongue out at me. She’s learning American English, I guess.” He chuckled softly. “But I’ll tell you, Mom, I never stay mad at her very long.” And then Bea heard some confusion, some shifting of the phone. “Oh, oh,” Alex said. “Now she’s kissing me.”

  “Well, I’d better get off the phone. It sounds like you two want to be alone.”

  “Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Well, yes. I talked to your dad this afternoon about using some of the money we’re making to get some help to people in Europe. I thought you might be able to give me some ideas about that.”

  “Mom, I’d love to help you work on that. I’m not going to have a lot of time once school starts, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “Would it be best to work through the Church, or—”

  “Yes, I think so. But we could also work with any of the organizations that are trying to help—the Red Cross as much as anyone.”

  “Well, let’s get together tomorrow—or soon, anyway—and start to think it through.”

  “Okay. And I’m going to go in and kiss Gene. He’s in bed, but he’s still crying.”

  “Give him a couple of extra kisses from his grandma. I haven’t seen that boy for at least three days. I miss him.”

  When Bea hung up the phone, she walked into the kitchen and found Al there. He was cutting himself a slice of banana cream pie. “Oh, oh,” he said. “Caught in the act. You’re going to tell me that I already had one dessert and I don’t need another one.”

  Bea was knocked off guard. Those were exactly the words that had come to her mind. “I nag you about things like that too much, don’t I?”

  “I’m pretty sure the correct answer is, ‘No, honey, not at all.’” He laughed. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks.” Bea paused. “I called Alex. He seemed excited about doing something to help in Europe. But I’ve been thinking more about the whole idea. I’d like to reach some people that maybe the Church can’t. What we can do will only be a drop in the bucket compared to what is needed over there, but maybe I can enlist some other Salt Lake people who are doing well right now, and we can pool some of what we have.”

  “That would be good, Bea.” He walked to the refrigerator and put the pie away, but as he returned to the table, he said, “I feel good about this too. It seems what Thomases and Snows ought to do.”

  Bea walked to the table, put her arms around her husband’s neck, and kissed him on the cheek. “Life is harder than I thought it was going to be when I was young,” she said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I was just talking to Alex. He’s really struggling with all the adjustments in his life.” Bea moved around the table and sat down across from Al. “Have you ever noticed how you can love someone and most of the time never give it a thought?”

  “Sure. That’s the way I operate.” He smiled.

  “You know how much Alex loves Anna, but he’s already surprised at how complicated married life is.”

  “We both understand that.”

  “Al, I love you. But I don’t tell you that, and I’m not even sure you know it.”

  She watched her husband’s eyes fill with tears. “Bea, something occurred to me a while back, and it knocked me for a loop when I thought of it.” He lowered his head. “I always have the feeling that you’re just a little disappointed in me. I’m not the man I ought to be, and no one knows it better than you do.”

  “Oh, Al, I’m sorry. I’ve pushed you so hard lately. But that’s mostly because I doubt myself so much, and you get the spillover.”

  “I never doubt you.”

  “That’s true. Or at least that’s how you make me feel. Thank you for that.” And now she was seeing through her own tears.

  “It’s okay. Just take good care of my money, and I’ll remember to feel guilty for having it.”

  She laughed. “I’ll give away so much you won’t have to worry about it.”

  “It’s a deal. That’s just what I deserve.”

  “But Al, I’m not disappointed in you. I don’t want you to think I am.”

  “Well, fine. I’ll take over that part of the job myself.”

  Bea was touched by that. She knew he meant it. But she told herself she needed to be easier on him and take a little harder look at herself.

  Chapter 23

  Alex had made a decision. He was going to keep working at his father’s parts factory even though he was starting his first quarter at the University of Utah on Monday. Anna didn’t think he should break with his father, nor did Wally, but finally, it had been Alex’s decision. There was nothing wrong with his working part-time, the same as he might for someone else, and he didn’t mind the work he had been doing. But mostly he felt that his dad would see it as an insult if he left the company and then found another job.

  So on Friday morning, before Alex had to be at the plant, he drove to the dealership. He figured he could catch his father in his office early, before things got busy. As it turned out, he found him in the showroom in a meeting with some of his salespeople, but the meeting broke up soon after Alex arrived, and he and his dad walked to the office, upstairs. Alex didn’t want to make a big deal of all this, so he said, rather casually, as they climbed the stairs, “Dad, I just came over to tell you that I’m going to stay on at the plant, part-time. Wally needs the help, and I appreciate the pay I’m getting. I thought about looking for a job on campus, which would have been a little more convenient, but nothing else would pay as well.”

  Alex had planned his words ahead of time. He wanted Dad to know that he appreciated what he was getting, recognized that his father was being more than fair with him. But he hadn’t expected his dad to be quite so pleased. “That’s great, Alex. Great. We need you, and I’d like you to keep your hand in things just so you could move back into the company, if that’s what you feel like you want to do, once you finish college.”

  “Well, that’s not what I have in mind, Dad. But sure, who knows? I might feel different about things by then.” It was a huge opening to give his dad but one Alex thought he could allow for the sake of peace. He just hoped Dad would let the whole matter end with that—a delay in the ultimate decision, but nothing more.
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  “Listen, that brings up something I want to talk to you about. I’ve got a whole new idea about what you could do—and it might change the way you look at all of this.”

  “I don’t think so, Dad. I just—”

  “Now, don’t be like your mom. Let me tell you what I mean before you make up your mind. In fact, don’t make up your mind at all. I just want to put something into your head to think about.”

  They had reached the door to Dad’s office. He swung it open and let Alex walk in first. And then he came around Alex and grabbed one of the chairs in front of his desk, turned it, and motioned for Alex to sit down.

  Alex was chafing just a little. He hadn’t liked that little crack about being like his mom. It seemed a criticism of her, and not one that Alex thought she deserved. She might stand up to Dad at times, but overall she had shaped her will to his much more than the other way around. But Alex did sit down. He decided to listen, to say, “I’ll think about it,” and then go.

  Dad took off his suit coat and hung it on a coat tree near the door. The days had remained warm this September, and the office was hot. Alex had left his own coat in his car. When his dad turned around, Alex was struck by the mirror image he saw. Both of them were wearing white shirts, dark trousers, and dark suspenders, but more than that, Dad’s big frame, his thick shoulders, were shaped like Alex’s. Dad was stouter, and he seemed to move with a little less authority than he once had, but as he turned his chair to face Alex’s and took his seat, the movements reminded Alex of himself. There was a certain exaggerated force, a kind of boldness, not without a hint of grace, that Alex often saw in Dad and felt in himself. And Dad’s face, under weightier cheeks, was Alex’s: the bone structure, the eye color, the skin, even the blue shadow left by a good morning’s shave.

  “Mom talked to you about some of our plans, didn’t she?”

  “What plans?”

  “To create a foundation of some kind and see what we can do to help some of the people suffering over in Europe and Japan.”

  “Yes. It’s a great thing, Dad. I’m sure you can’t do all that much, but anything will help.”

  “Don’t be so quick to say that. The thing you might forget is that the wealthy people in our country are the ones who build the libraries, endow universities, set up soup kitchens—all kinds of things. And that’s how it ought to be. The ones who succeed in our free market are the ones who can give something back. Roosevelt got it into his head that the government ought to step in and do everything, but that adds too much bureaucracy and waste. I may not be as rich as Rockefeller, but I can join with other people like myself, and we can make a real difference in this world.”

  “Sure. I know what you mean.” But Alex saw another side to all that. A man could accumulate wealth by whatever means, profit off the work of simple people, and then, after living high, put his name on a university building or toss some of his wealth to the poor and tell himself that he was noble. But Alex wasn’t going to say anything of that kind. He did admire his parents, who had accumulated only a little wealth and were already willing to start sharing it.

  “Well, anyway, here is what I was thinking.” Dad leaned on his elbows, his fingers threaded together. “I know you don’t like making parts. You never did. And I don’t want to get into a discussion of your feelings about that. But what if you worked with your mom on these land deals we’ve got going? You could help her make this south part of the valley the prettiest in Salt Lake, really see something beautiful take form out here—and at the same time help provide good, well-built houses for people who are just getting their families established. I think it’s exciting to think about, and it’s not at all like watching hunks of metal come off an assembly line—which I know you’ve never liked.”

  The truth was, Alex hadn’t minded the plant so much lately. He had found satisfaction in having an order to fill and seeing the work get done. It had been the most calming thing in his life lately to watch for a few minutes as the parts came off the line, got packed into boxes, and moved away. It was something finished, accomplished, whereas his attempt at fatherhood was a work in progress and not one he was sure he was doing very well. But that was not something he wanted to talk about either. “Dad,” he said, “what I’d like to do, if you don’t mind, is just work on an hourly basis at the plant. Land development, at this stage, probably involves a lot of planning and thinking, and a lot of running around and dealing with people and offices. I want to concentrate primarily on school right now. If I can go down to the plant, put in a few hours, feel like I accomplished something, and then get back to my studies, I think that would work best.”

  “That’s fine. I understand. But here’s the one thing you might think about. Mom doesn’t want to work too much longer. By the time you get out of school, what if you took over the land development part of our business? In the long run, you might like that a lot better than anything else we do, and it would be a much better opportunity than you’d probably get with anyone else. You come out of college and start teaching school, or something like that, and you’re never going to make a decent living.”

  “But if that’s what I decide to do, I guess it will have to be decent enough.”

  There had been an edge in Alex’s voice, and the tone seemed to linger, as though a barrier had been raised between them. Alex hated the feeling, hadn’t wanted it, but why couldn’t Dad ever let up a little?

  “Well, anyway . . . as I said before . . . it’s just something for you to think about. That’s all I had in mind.”

  “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

  “No, you won’t.” And now it was Dad who had let some anger seep into his voice.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Just go ahead and do what you want to do. I know you think I’m trying to interfere in your life again.”

  Alex took a big breath, exaggerated it, tried to show his dad how hard he was working not to fire back.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I really am,” Dad said. “I get carried away. But Alex, I see you withdrawing from the family, and it’s hard for me. It just feels to me like the war ought to be over now, and you ought to move on and be yourself again.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You know very well what I mean. We all feel it. There’s something seething in you. It’s there every second I’m around you—like you’re just waiting for an insult, looking for one. You’re angry, and yet you walk around pretending that you’re not, all stone-faced and emotionless. I know the war was troubling for you, but it just seems like enough time has passed now. You need to let all that go.”

  Alex was trying to keep his breathing even and calm. But he really wanted to give his father an answer, if he could. He waited for a few seconds, and then, in a restrained voice, he said, “Dad, you have no idea how hard I’m trying. But I spend every day of my life just fighting not to explode.”

  “Why, Alex?”

  “I don’t know. But I know that if I let go, just once, just a little, I’m going to break into a million pieces. You—everyone—tells me to put things in the past, and that’s what I try to do, but I’m shaking inside almost all the time. It’s been a year and a half, and I’m still not sleeping right, still waking up with terrible dreams. And you’re right, I feel angry most of the time.” He took a deeper breath, and then he added, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to feel that way, but I do. I don’t usually talk about it, because it doesn’t do any good. But you raised the question.”

  “Alex, you need to get some help. I had no idea it was that bad for you.”

  “I’ve talked to the doctors at the veterans’ hospital. It doesn’t seem to make any difference.”

  “But you’ve got to do something.”

  “I am doing something. Elder Benson told me not to look back, to take a step forward, then pray and decide what the next step should be. That’s the only thing that makes sense to me right now. My first step is to go to college. I feel like that’s what I’m suppo
sed to do. And I’ve prayed a lot about that.”

  “But what is it that bothers you, Son? Do you know?” Dad leaned forward, put his hand on the armrest, almost touching Alex’s hand. “What is it you think about that gets you upset?”

  “I don’t know, Dad. I don’t think about the war. But things pop into my mind—things I don’t want to remember. When I try to push that stuff out of my head, I start sweating, and my heart starts to race.”

  “I think you need to admit yourself into the hospital, let the doctors there spend some time with you, and—”

  “Into some pysch ward?” Alex pulled his hand back, and the two leaned away from each other.

  “Sure. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Dad, I’ve seen those psychos at the hospital. They sit around talking to themselves, drooling on their shirts. And I’ll tell you how that happens. I saw it in combat, lots of times. It happens when you let go. A guy can put up with an awful lot, if he just keeps hanging on, but all you have to do is give into it, and then you’re crazy. I’m not going to let that happen to me. I can’t let Anna down. Or Gene.”

  Alex was telling himself to stay calm, not to think about this. He just needed to end the conversation, get to the plant, bury himself in his work.

  “Could you talk to Wally or maybe Richard—someone who’s been there? I’d like to help you, but I don’t know how.”

  Alex could feel his hands shaking now, and he knew he was on the edge. For so long he had been keeping everything contained. He didn’t need this kind of talk. He just needed to get going, to get busy. “I’ve got to go, Dad,” he managed to say. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” He got up, but his head was suddenly dizzy. He breathed, reminded himself to get lots of air, pull it deep into his lungs.

  “Alex, I’m worried to death about you. I don’t think you ought to drive right now. Couldn’t I just take you over to the hospital? What could it hurt to talk to someone for a little while?”