One day Shay called and told me his parents were leaving on the Amtrak to go see his grandmother in California. They would be gone two weeks, and he would be ramrodding the whole Westover operation. Some of his friends wanted to water ski that Sunday—with wet suits, since it was winter. He said he’d come and get me. I said okay.
He picked me up that Sunday as planned, and we got to the lake about 1 p.m. There was plenty of beer flowing, which made me uneasy. Deep water and booze—didn’t seem like a good combination to me. Around 3:30 Shay and his best friend Kevin went on a beer run. I wanted to lie on the blanket and sunbathe. Just as they were returning, there was a huge thud out on the water. Kevin’s girlfriend, Karen, was waterskiing, and had fallen. The stupid idiot driving the boat, drunk, had whirled the boat around too sharply and hit her.
Someone got her out real fast and Kevin and Shay jumped out of the car. Karen couldn’t breath and said she thought she was hit in the throat. Kevin carried her to Shay’s car, Shay grabbed my arm, threw me in the front seat and we were off to the nearest hospital. Kevin was saying, “Hurry, Shay, hurry!” Five miles of loose gravel road. We must have been going 80 miles per hour, then we hit the two-lane highway 34 and I looked over and Shay’s speedometer read 110.
“Well, this is where I get off,” I said, feeling faint. “Let me out. I told you I can’t handle speed.” I panicked and began fumbling with the door handle. “Let me out! I need to get out!”
Poor Shay, he was holding me down with one arm and keeping control of the car at the same time. We had three patrol cars with sirens blaring behind us as we crossed the overpass. Shay never slowed except for a few corners, coming up under the emergency room entrance. He stopped the car, jumped out, ran in, and help came running out immediately. We were all still in our swimsuits.
The officers got out, walked up and said, “Just wondered what your hurry was, son. That was some driving.”
Shay gave them a quick, respectful nod, then turned around and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever try to jump from a moving car again, do you understand me? You would have been killed. I was responsible for Karen. It was my boat and my lake. I’m also responsible for you when you’re with me.”
He was very upset. I nodded, shaken.
Well, it turned out Karen was okay, so Shay settled down pretty fast, but I was still in shock. I told him I wanted to go home.
“We’ll go back and put the boat away first. I have to check on everyone’s chores and then I’ll take you home.”
I noticed the water was a little higher when we got to the boat. The water was touching my blanket where I’d left it on the beach. No one said anything, but I saw Shay and his friends exchange glances. The water was rising.
A Day’s Work For A Day’s Food
We took the boat to the grounds and put it in the storage building. Anywhere else, this would have been called a ranch, but in Nebraska, they were called farm homesteads.
The Westovers lived large. They had a big house, a circle drive, several smaller houses on the property, the workers’ houses, the bunkhouse, machinery buildings, a helicopter hangar and take-off pad, a seasonal pool and tennis court, the lake—big enough to ski on. Livestock barns, a milking barn, horse barns, corrals, lots and lots of land surrounded by lots and lots of water, fields, cattle and corn (lots of corn.)
Most of the land south of Hudson, when you exited off Highway 34, belonged to the Westovers. You drove about five miles down the gravel road toward the river and turned right at the fourth corner road. Then after about a mile and a half you came to a black and gray cobblestone circle drive. If you wanted to go to the Big House (sounds like jail, but that’s what they called the main house,) you turned into the circle drive; if you wanted to go on to the farmstead, you went straight.
Turning into the circle drive was magnificent. Lush green grass, beautiful flowers, elms, poplars and old oaks surrounded the house, which was white with black shutters, white pillars and ornate black double doors. A fountain centered the grassy circle drive and several stone benches scattered the grounds. Turn-of-the-century lampposts lined the walkway. I’d lived in Hudson all my life and never known a place like this existed.
Shay told me to go on inside and Rosie, their cook, would be inside.
“Call her Cookie,” he said. “Everybody does. Tell Cookie what you want for dinner and tell her I want my usual.”
I flashed him a don’t-tell-me-what-to-do look and walked towards the house. As I pushed open the beautiful scrolled double doors, my eyes widened and time seemed to slow. I felt like I was stepping into another dimension. Who lived like this?
“Cookie, oh Cookie…” I called through the house as I stepped into the grand entrance hall. Didn’t want to scare the poor gal, coming up on a stranger in the house.
I just had to stop in my tracks, my feet sinking into the plush Persian rug. A giant crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center of the room, directly over a round cherry wood table, on which stood a large glass vase of lavish flowers. Two ornate cherry wood banisters circled upward, mirroring one another, to an upper landing, where you could stand and look down on everything.
There were velvet benches, cherry-wood tables with matching gold mirrors, gold-leaf accents everywhere, glinting; a high, coffered, ivory ceiling. I felt like I had stepped into a fairytale. Any minute now a princess would be running down those stairs in glittering diamonds and rustling silk, late for a ball. Gone With The Wind had nothing on this place.
After a while I pulled myself away from gawking at the gilded room (I was glad I’d been alone my first time seeing it all, it would have been hard to keep from staring shamelessly at everything.) I found Cookie in the kitchen, introduced myself and delivered Shay’s dinner request.
“Don’t you want anything, honey?” she asked. She had a kind, round face, with dark brown hair.
“Oh, no thanks,” I said, “I’m going home to eat with my family.”
***
Shay came in around 9 p.m. I had been reading a book I’d found on the coffee table. He went over and flipped a switch that started playing real sweet music through the house.
“I have to take a shower,” he said, and off he went.
When he came back to the den, he asked if Cookie had left dinner.
“Yours is in the oven, I’m going home to eat.”
“Well, I don’t know about that.” He sat down on the sofa opposite me. “Things are starting to look a little rough out there.”
“What do you mean, ‘rough’?”
Just then the phone rang, four fast rings. Shay answered and talked for a few minutes, asking questions in a serious-sounding voice.
“Okay, we’ll be alright. We’ll start sandbagging tonight.” He hung up. “Callie,” he turned to me, “the rivers are out of their banks and over the roads. We can’t get out tonight.”
“What?” I jumped up. “No! I have to go home! Take me home right now, I can’t stay away from Kelly!”
“Well, princess, this time you’re not getting your way. There is no way to get out on those roads unless you want to wash away.”
I started sobbing like a baby. Shay came over and put his arms around me. “I’m sorry, really I am. But I’m responsible for you when you’re with me, and I will not let you do anything that will endanger your life.”
I pulled back out of his arms. He told me he was going to eat, and then go out and help the guys start sandbagging. When he opened the oven and there was just one hamburger with fries, he got a knife and cut it in half, putting half on a plate for me.
“Eat,” he said. “You haven’t eaten since noon.”
Still sniffling, I called my parents. They said they’d seen the flood on the news and to stay put; it wasn’t safe on the roads.
The only clothes I had with me were blue jeans, a white silk blouse, a long gold and navy striped scarf and fashion boots. Hell of a wardrobe for this kind of situation.
“Where am I going to
sleep?” I asked.
I took a small bite of my hamburger half.
“Anywhere you like,” he said, gesturing expansively. “Anywhere but my sisters’ rooms that is. They make their beds how they like them and they wouldn’t be happy if someone messed them up.”
(Brats, I thought.) Debbie was away in college and Becky was spending the weekend with a friend.
Shay told me they had two guest suites, but one was being redone and the other had the bed stacked with things from the other guest room. There was the twin bed in his room, he said, and then just his parents’ master suite on the main level.
“Do you want to sleep there?” he asked.
“Where are you going to be?”
“Well, I’ll be outside sandbagging for a few hours, probably won’t be in until after midnight. Then I’ll shower and I’m going to crawl into that king bed with you and try to get some sleep. 4:30 comes mighty early.”
“You’re not sleeping with me.”
“Yes, I am,” he said. “And quit worrying, I just think you’re upset and I don’t want to leave you alone.”
I followed him silently into the grand master suite and sat on the bed while he went into a large closet. When he came out, he threw a pair of pink silk pajamas on the bed.
You can shower in their bathroom or take a soak in their tub, just relax,” he said.
“Well, I want three safety pins,” I said.
He gave me a strange look. “Down the hall there’s a crafts room right next to the office, you’ll probably find them in there.”
“I’m waiting up until you get in,” I said. “So I’ll just watch TV ’til then.”
“Suit yourself, princess,” and out he went to work.
With Shay gone the big empty house felt eerie. My whole world had crashed, but after a while of sitting in the silent room alone, I decided it was time to explore.
The master suite was on the ground floor, as was Shay’s room, which had a twin bed like he said, a desk, and a bunch of exercise equipment.
The foyer led to a glorious formal living room with a large cherry wood fireplace, high, coffered ceilings and plush ivory-colored carpeting. Most of the furnishings had gold leaf accents. The ornate cherry wood dining room table sat eight people on each side and a chandelier hung over each end. The chairs had very tall backs and scrolled legs, sage green brocade cushions with ivory thread to match the floors. At each end of the table was a grand leather armchair.
The large den next to the formal dining room had two sofas and recliners, a television armoire and gorgeous accent pieces. There was a semi-formal dining room off the kitchen, I assumed for morning breakfasts.
Next up, the second floor. The guest rooms were spacious, with a large wood burning fireplace and a private bath, each. One suite had French doors entering onto a balcony that overlooked the pool and the pool house, which was large enough for two people to live in comfortably. Sure enough, one of the guest rooms was torn up for remodeling, the other stacked full of belongings. Shay’s sisters’ rooms were girlie and frilly, with cheerleading pompoms, pictures of friends and 4-H ribbons on the walls. Both beds were neatly made, with an abundance of carefully arranged stuffed animals.
On my way back to the master suite, I found the crafts room and three safety pins. Then I took my long scarf, opened the king bed, eyeballed the center and pinned the scarf straight down the middle. Made me feel a little better.
Shay got in around 12:30 a.m. I was asleep on the sofa. He must have showered first, because he smelled all clean and fresh as he picked me up off the sofa and carried me into the bedroom, where he put me on one of the sides.
“I see we have a wall between us, princess,” he said with his usual grin.
I pulled the blanket up around my neck. “Where did you come up with that name, anyway? Princess. It’s really sort of sarcastic, isn’t it?”
“I don’t mean it that way,” he said almost gently and left the room.
Through the quiet house I could hear him in the kitchen, then I heard soft music and Shay came in with a glass of warmed milk. Now this was sort of precious, considering how tired he was.
“Drink this, princess. It’ll calm you down and you’ll sleep better.”
I didn’t have to worry, like people do today, that he might have put something in my drink. We didn’t live in that world. I sat up and drank it.
While I was drinking my milk, Shay said, “Do you like to eat?”
“What?”
“Do you like to eat?
“Well, of course.”
“A day’s work for a day’s food,” he announced.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when you get up—and you can get up whenever you want—there will be some clean undies, a t-shirt of mine, a sweatshirt and some western boots for you to wear. You’re going to help the hands sandbag tomorrow. Just wear your own jeans and we’ll wash ’em tomorrow night.”
“I can’t do that,” I said.
“You’re doing it, princess. My turf, my rules. So if I were you, I’d get some sleep,” and he got in the bed on his side.
He’d left the soft music playing and there was a small glow from an amber sconce. It gave off just enough light to see the objects in the room.
“Goodnight, princess,” he said, turning his back to me.
I lay awake for a while, just turning the day over in my mind. Shay was asleep in seconds, breathing slowly and deeply.
I have no idea what time he got up in the morning. He must have been extremely quiet. I woke up around 8:15 a.m. and again immediately turned on the waterworks. I lay there sobbing. I had never been away from Kelly and this is one mother who just couldn’t handle it.
I finally got up and went into the bathroom. Placed on the vanity bench were the clothes I was told I’d find. After showering and dressing like a cowgirl, except for a Creighton University sweatshirt, I went into the kitchen to find Cookie. She had the kindest face.
“Good morning there, missy,” she said brightly. “Just make yourself at home and old Cookie’s going to fix you some breakfast. Honey, do you like waffles?”
I told her thank you but I didn’t have much of an appetite. I asked her how long she’d been up. She said she came over to the Big House about 4 a.m. to make breakfast for her boy, Shay.
“Why can’t he fix his own?” I asked.
She looked a little stunned.
“Cookie,” I said, suddenly thinking of something. “Have you eaten?”
She said she hadn’t had time just yet.
“You sit down at that table and I’ll get you tea or coffee, whatever you like,” I said. “Just point me in the direction of the waffle iron and I’ll fix your breakfast.”
She looked hesitant.
“Come on, Cookie, please? I want to. Then we can sit and visit awhile.”
I think I must have pulled the rug out from under her. Her face lit up with a huge smile.
While she ate her waffles and drank her coffee, we had ourselves a little girl talk.
“Cookie,” I asked, “does Shay bring girls home to spend the night often?”
“Honey child,” she said, “now I shouldn’t be telling tales out of school, but you’re the first girl he has ever had here all night. Granted, there have been plenty of girls here in the evenings,” she added, “some staying late. But he has never had one here all night.”
“Well, you know, Cookie, he had no choice with me. The roads are washed out.”
“They sure are, honey. This happens every six or seven years. We’re getting used to it.”
“I’m so homesick, Cookie. You know I have a little girl…three and a half months old. She needs me. I can’t stand being away from her this long..." Well here came the tears again. Cookie was on her feet in moments, consoling me.
“You know, honey child, my Shay asked me this morning if I’d gotten a chance to talk to you and what did I think of you —”
“Well, there wasn’t much you cou
ld tell him from me just telling you what he wanted for dinner,” I said between tears.
“Well you just wait a minute, honey. I told him that I saw something in your eyes, something very deep and mystical.”
“Funny you say that, Cookie. He told me one night I was mystical, but I don’t think he’s very mystical or sensitive. I don’t think he’s even very spiritual or believes in anything that he can’t see or touch.”
Samson and Sunset Page 3
