Samson and Sunset

by Dorothy Annie Schritt

“I’ll marry you,” he said grimly, “and give the baby a name. But I won’t stay married to you, because when I get married, it has to be to the best dressed, most well-bred woman in town, and we both know that’s not you. When I marry I want my life to be like Shay Westover’s.”

  “Who the hell is Shay Westover?”

  “Shay Westover, of Westover, Nebraska?” he asked in disbelief. “You’ve never heard of him?”

  “No.”

  “Well, let me tell you, he’s got everything! A big house, a boat, a lake, all the money you could want and every girl in town. His family owns Westover, Nebraska…!” (Which no longer exists on the maps, but it did in the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s.)

  “So you see,” Dane said, “I want the best.”

  I saw alright.

  Dane’s plan was for us to go out of state and marry (that way his name wouldn’t be on a marriage document in Nebraska.) We’d come right back, he’d leave the state for a while, file for divorce, come back, and that would be that.

  I’m sitting there listening to plan B and I’m thinking to myself in my small mind, This man is going to marry me, I’ll be going by the name Kathrine Dalton, the baby, gender unknown, but already named by me Kelly Quinn, will also be going by Kelly Quinn Dalton. Everyone knows everyone’s business in this town and nobody is ever going to know he’s married? Gotcha! Man, if he was that stupid, I wasn't saying anything. Kelly came before me. We set the date to go to Centerville, Kansas.

  On the day of our wedding we went to the western Saddle Motel to get dressed. As I came out of the shower, Dane threw me on the bed, saying, “You know, baby, it’s all too bad. You’re so pretty and actually… you are awfully innocent.”

  Then he forced himself on me, saying we had to do it before the wedding, as he didn’t want to consummate the marriage. I cried at first; then I got real quiet. I was praying. God, I said, if this is not the right thing for this child and me, please give me a sign. I waited and looked, but there was no sign, I just kept feeling God was telling me he had my back, so on to the church we went. Every word I said at the altar of God was spoken in truth from my heart and soul. I couldn’t speak for Dane or judge him. I went into marriage with Dane Dalton with the complete belief that what God had joined together, no man could put asunder.

  I wore a white dress, white heels and a white hat with a veil. Mom had given me some beautiful, fresh-cut flowers from the garden. We got married and drove the three hours home in silence. I got out of the car at my parents’ house. Dane shut the door and drove away.

  A few weeks later, his parents summoned me to their home. Dane, coward that he was, saw to it that he wasn’t present. I’m sure Dane thought if I had to face his parents alone, they could have terrorized me into an abortion. Mr. and Mrs. Dalton, the two professors, sat across from me in two chairs. I sat on their sofa.

  “What do you want?” Mrs. Dalton asked coolly.

  I stared them down. “I want nothing but my baby, so if that’s all you wanted to know, conversation over.”

  Apparently that was all they wanted to know. The meeting had clearly been an intimidation tactic. Boy, did they get a wrong number. They looked like two people with egg on their faces as I left their home, never to return. Hard times for this little child and me, and she wasn’t even born yet.

  Apart from being called a whore that day on the street from his motorcycle, the only other time I saw Dane before Kelly was born was one night when I walked in the dark to the West Side. He was in his garage working on his ’40 Ford Coupe and I hid across the street behind a big tree, tears dripping from my eyes, watching him. I held my hand over my stomach.

  “There’s your daddy,” I told Kelly softly. “Isn’t he handsome?”

  ***

  The judge awarded me child maintenance and separate maintenance because I was a separated mother. I said I didn’t want anything, but he said I had no say in the matter. After that I got a good job working for my attorney while I was pregnant. With my maintenance money and good job, I rented a big house on the right side of the tracks and moved Mom, Dad, and myself in while we awaited the arrival of the baby.

  ***

  Susie and I were always riding around together. I guess I was Susie’s driver (she had no car.) She always wanted me to drive her around looking for this guy she liked, Shay Westover. Yes, the same Shay Westover whose life Dane Dalton just had to have. On one of our drives in search of this Shay Westover, we found what Susie was sure was his car in a driveway. No heads were showing.

  “Go on,” Susie begged. “Go over and see if it’s him. Please? As a favor to me?”

  I told her, “Absolutely not.”

  A week after that we were circling through King’s Drive-Thru, when my car stopped right there in the center drive. There was a big fancy car behind us and they started honking. Wearing tight blue jeans, a cute maternity top with 3” heels and being the feisty gal that I was, I found myself jumping out of the car and stomping up to this guy’s window.

  “Knock it off,” I said, “can’t you see I can’t get my car started?”

  “Okay,” he said. “We’ll just get out and push your car across the street. We’d be glad to give you a ride home or wherever.”

  I said that would be fine. They pushed my car out of the way and one guy parked the big fancy car in a drive-through spot. This car was something—must have had a lot of expensive work in it. My family detailed cars, so I knew.

  “My name’s Shay Westover. What’s yours?” asked the guy who’d been driving the big car.

  “That can’t be of any relevance to you, I’m clearly pregnant. You might want to walk through King’s with another girl,” I said with a sharp, sassy voice.

  I sort of stepped back so he might catch a glimpse of Susie, who was trying to catch his eye.

  “Gosh!” he said, grinning, not taking his eyes off me. “Did you inherit that smart mouth or just develop it? Because, woman, I want to walk through King’s with you!”

  And he did. Walked right next to me.

  When he drove us home, he wanted me to ride in the front with him, but I said,

  “No, no, no, I'm fine in the back.” They took us to Susie’s house and let us out. Shay was around six feet tall, with dark, wavy beautiful hair and gorgeous brown eyes. He took my breath away, but I'd seen the ugly side of handsome men.

  “I still didn't get your name,” he called through the open window as we stood outside Susie’s house.

  “And I still didn’t give it!”

  “Still a smart mouth I see,” he grinned and drove away.

  Water Rising

  Kelly Quinn Dalton was born December 13, 1963. My parents were completely supportive of Kelly and me. It was a great Christmas—packages under the tree, toys for the baby from Santa, what joy.

  Since the time of Kelly’s birth, Dane Dalton had taken up with his friend Rick Newman’s wife, Patricia, the mother of the baby Dane had played so sweetly with the night he told me to count the stars. Rick Newman came over to talk to me about them often. He was devastated. Rick had a lazy eye, I don’t know if he was born with it or had injured it, but it wouldn’t track. He told me he was thinking about getting surgery for it.

  After Kelly’s birth, I filed for a divorce, and was awarded child support and alimony. What a relief to be out of the Dalton family.

  ***

  Sometime in early March, when Kelly was three months old, Susie called me up and asked me to go to a party with her that Saturday night. I told her I’d go. Parties weren’t really my thing, but I knew she needed a ride. Besides, it was fun being able to dress up again in skirts and heels after nine months of maternity clothes. I didn’t have any baby weight and my hair was now platinum blond. Natural? Hell no!

  We arrived at the party about quarter to nine. There were lots of people there. Susie ran into a boy she liked pretty early on and ended up going for a drive with him, saying he could just drop her home afterwards. Well, great. There I was, dressed to the nine
s (red patent leather heels, a fitted light blue denim skirt with red piping and a matching top, plus a long strand of red wooden beads) and no one would talk to me. All the girls had written me off as the slut from the wrong side of the tracks because of my fatherless baby. I felt embarrassed to be sitting alone with all the girls shooting me snide looks when they passed me—but I made myself do it. I’d gotten dressed and come all the way out here, might as well stay a while.

  As I was sitting on a bar stool, feeling kind of sad and shy, I spotted this guy across the room. I noticed he held his beer can in a real unique way, sort of wrapped his hand around the can, thumb up, his hand on the outside. He was looking at me and then he moved slowly across the room in my direction. I heard a girl say, “You’re going to go talk to her?” right as he reached me, with a grin I’d seen once before.

  “Hi, do you remember me?” His voice was deep and warm.

  “You’re that little Westover boy who helped me the night my car broke down.”

  “Oh, now I'm a little boy. Still have that smart mouth I see!”

  Some drunken idiot pulled my hair at that moment and asked if it was real. I jumped up and grabbed Shay’s arm. “You’re taking me for a ride to get me out of here.”

  “What are your terms?” he wanted to know.

  I told him. “I hate these parties. I have my own car. You know first hand I have a baby, and you’re never ever getting sex from me. How do you like those terms?”

  “I think I can live with them, if you can.”

  “You know, there’s really no point, I guess…”

  “Wait a minute.” He caught my arm. “I was bored myself. Since now we know the terms, want to just ride around for a while, no strings attached?”

  “Well. Okay then. But no strings.”

  I sat over on my side, as far as I could get to my door. Guess I was getting ready to make my big escape. After all, I was in a car alone with the legendary Shay Westover!

  After riding around for about an hour, just listening to the radio without much conversation, Shay asked if I’d like to go to a bottle club called The Black Hat. They didn’t serve alcohol after midnight in Hudson, so after 12 p.m. people went to bottle clubs. They served steaks and hamburgers and you could bring your own booze if you liked.

  I told Shay I didn’t drink, but I’d go.

  “I pay my own way, no strings,” I reminded him.

  “Fine by me,” he said.

  Right as we walked into the dining room, I spotted Rick Newman at the jukebox.

  I asked Shay to excuse me for a second and went over and asked Rick if he’d decided on the surgery. He said yes he had. Shay walked over to a table where five or six couples were having dinner and drinking, and then—girls, girls everywhere! They were coming up to the table, out of the woodwork.

  “Hi Shay, want to dance?”

  “Shay, Shay, can I get you a drink?”

  “Looking good tonight, Shay…”

  Sick. Why do girls act like that? As I reached the table, a handsome, stately, dark-haired man sitting next to a very pretty older woman verbally dressed me down in front of everyone:

  “How dare you go over and talk to another guy when you’re with my son? We won’t tolerate that behavior. Shay deserves better. So, young lady, I’d see that it never happens again!”

  I stood there for a second, stunned. He then turned and told Shay to get two more chairs. While he did that, I regrouped.

  “Mister,” I said. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t give a rat’s ass, but you get this clear, and watch my mouth as I’m saying it: I am not your son’s date. I am not your son’s friend, and after meeting your son’s father, I never want to see your son again. So he doesn’t have to find two chairs. I wouldn’t break bread at the same table as you. Shay, you owe me a ride to my car.”

  I turned on my heel and walked out the door. It didn’t take long for Shay to follow me out. He unlocked my side of the car and held the door as I got in. The first mile of the ride was silent.

  Then he said, “Guess I’m not the only one you use that smart mouth on.”

  Silence.

  Finally I said, “I think your dad was out of line.”

  “Well, he’s not used to girls not giving his son their undivided attention.” Shay chuckled. “But, I’ll give you this; I don’t think anyone has ever taken him to the mat like you just did. You know, you kind of earned my respect, the way you took care of yourself back there.”

  I told him not to be impressed. I was in no way brave. There were oh, so many things that frightened me.

  “Such as…?”

  “Well, I would never fly. I don’t use elevators; always take the stairs. Don’t go in water unless it’s a pool. I don't like speed. Tornadoes terrify me. Being away from home and my parents very long makes me sick, just plain homesick…”

  “Gee whiz, is there anything else? How do you exist, woman? And by the way, what is your name?”

  I finally told him as we reached my car.

  “You know, we have a lake,” he said as he helped me out of his car. “We water ski every Sunday using wet suits…Oh wait, don’t tell me, you’re afraid of boats and skiing too!”

  I gave him a dark look.

  “Well, you should just come and sunbathe and hang out.”

  “Funny you brought it up,” I said. “Susie already asked me to go there. She likes you,” I added. “So don't go hurting her.”

  ***

  Saturday night Shay called me and said they weren’t taking the boat out on Sunday after all.

  “Okay, thank you,” I said and hung up.

  He called right back. “What’s your problem? You know what, smart mouth, would you like to go to a movie Sunday night?

  I was quiet for a second. “Maybe. Which one?”

  “Well it will have to be a late one. I usually can’t get to town until 9 p.m. or later…”

  I told him I’d find a late movie. Address exchange, etc.

  Sunday evening, 9 p.m. came and went. At 10 p.m. the phone rang.

  “I was wondering, since I just got in and have to shower yet, did you still want to go out?”

  Long silence.

  “I am dressed and ready to go,” I said. “If you don’t come tonight, never ever call this number again.”

  Short silence.

  “I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

  As I hung up the phone my mom came in from the kitchen. “Weren’t you a little hard on him?”

  “You don’t know this guy, Mom. He’s so into himself. And you can bet all he wants is sex, and is he in for a shock. I am never doing that again. I didn’t even like it. In fact, I think I hated it!”

  All I’d gotten from dear old Dane was Wham Bam, without the Thank You Ma’am. No gentleness, no foreplay, no letting me get to a point where I felt like I might want to go a little further on my own.

  Shay picked me up at 11 p.m. “It’s too late for a movie,” I said as we drove toward downtown. “Now what?”

  “Well, we can go to the club and have a drink.”

  “Last time I’m telling you, I don’t drink. Now that just must ruin your big plans, because, once again, if you’re taking me out for sex, take me home. It’s just not happening for you.”

  Shay pulled the car over to the curb real fast and hit the breaks. I thought he was going to tell me to get out and walk, but instead he just sat there. Then he turned to me and said:

  “Do you think you’re just a sex object?”

  I stared at him.

  “Because if I wanted to get laid tonight—and what guy doesn’t—believe me, there are any number of sure things I could have called. I don’t think you’re loosey goosey just because you have a child, and even though I think I like you, and you do sort of fascinate me, you don’t turn me on that much. But I do like your company, so can we just find some stable ground to meet on?”

  I blinked.

  “And another thing. I don't like guys like Dane Dalton, so
please don’t ever mention his name to me. I will not call you Kathrine Dalton. I’ll call you Kathrine Mitchell. Even though you seem more like a Callie to me.”

  Long pause.

  “Did you do your homework on me or what? How do you know all this?”

  “I talked to Susie. Now there you have it. Shall we go to the club? They do serve pop and tea ya know.”

  “Well, okay then,” I said, kind of stunned.

  ***

  The next two weeks were a blur. We went out every single night—movies, dancing, dinner, taking a blanket to the park and just lying on the grass and looking at the stars. All this time in my safe little world, he didn’t even hold my hand. Now, wait just a minute—maybe I’m not desirable!