by Linda Ellen
As Gene brought the car to a stop and set the brake, the front door slammed open and a boy of about thirteen came running out, his light-brown hair fluffing in the breeze. “Gene! You’re here! Mama, Gene’s here! He’s drivin’ a swell car!” the boy stopped in mid-run and stared for a moment at Vivian, and then he added over his shoulder, “And he’s got a pretty lady with him!”
Vivian laughed and put her hand on the door handle, but Gene said quickly, “Lemme get that,” as he pushed his door open and climbed out. The boy met him as Gene rounded the front of the Buick and they collided into a brotherly embrace. They stood swaying together and Viv could hear the boy, his voice muffled against the front of Gene’s shirt, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen ya, Gene. I’ve missed ya. Why haven’t you come to see us?”
Feeling a bit odd just sitting in the car, Vivian quietly let herself out and stood next to the passenger side as a woman with straight, light brown hair threw open the screen door of the house and came to the edge of the porch. She was wearing sturdy brown shoes, and her full apron covered a blue flowered, short-sleeved dress. She put one hand up to her mouth, and then descended the steps, heading straight for Gene. He let go of his brother just in time to catch her as she flung herself into his arms.
“Mom,” Viv heard Gene utter, his voice husky with emotion. Viv wrapped her arms around her middle and turned her head away, beginning to get choked up.
Immediately, an older man came out the front door, followed by another man who appeared near Gene’s age, and two young women. They were all smiling through tears and waiting for the woman to finish her greeting before they started down the porch steps.
Finally, Gene separated himself from the woman and made his way over to Viv. He took her hand and drew her forward.
“Mom…” he paused, looking past her to the others, and amended, “Everybody, I want you guys to meet Miss Vivian Powell.” Turning to meet Viv’s eyes, she could see his were damp. “Viv, this is my mother, Phyllis Banks. And my little brother, Jeff…and my Dad, John, my brother Jack, and my sisters, Laura and Julie,” he completed the introductions. Vivian greeted each one as they were named and pointed out, and then Phyllis came toward her with a big smile and outstretched hands.
“Welcome Vivian.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Banks…”
“Welcome to our home,” she continued. “You two must be starved, it’s nearly one o’clock. Come on in the house and we’ll eat before everything gets cold,” she encouraged, turning and hooking her arms around one of Gene’s and one of Viv’s as she ushered them forward. The others greeted Viv and shook her free hand as everyone made their way inside.
Once they crossed the threshold, Viv came to a halt to take in the large, comfortable living and dining room area and to breathe in the mouth-watering scent of hot food on the stove.
Mrs. Banks remained by Viv’s side as the others advanced toward the table set with the family’s best dishes. Impulsively, she gave the girl a quick hug, and whispered in her ear, “I have a feeling you had something to do with this visit…and if I’m right, I want to thank you.”
When she pulled back, she smiled, teary-eyed, and Viv smiled back, her own eyes just as moist. Viv couldn’t quite make her voice work to answer, so she just gave a nod.
Somehow, Vivian knew in the space of those few moments that she had just met people who would become very important in her life. She chanced a glance at Gene, and the look on his face seemed as if he were thinking the very same thing.
“Or how about this one: To get away from hairy apes, ladies jump from fire escapes. Burma-Shave. I think that one is so funny,” Jeff chortled as the others joined him, enjoying his antics. Vivian had soon found out that Burma-Shave signs and their witty sayings were one of the boy’s many hobbies – and he had a never-ending supply of them memorized.
“Here’s another one: The Bearded Lady tried a jar – she’s now a famous movie star. Burma-Shave.” The family laughed at that one as well; each member at the table leisurely eating what had turned out to be a delicious Sunday dinner. As promised, there were scrumptious venison steaks, fluffy mashed potatoes and brown gravy, corn on the cob, and an assortment of trimmings. Mrs. Banks cautioned that they must all save room for the chocolate cake she had baked – in celebration of her oldest son’s long-awaited visit.
Vivian forked another bite of delicious mashed potatoes smothered in gravy into her mouth and allowed her gaze to roam the faces at the table. She had noticed right away that all four of Gene’s brothers and sisters had their mother’s green eyes. No one had his gorgeous sky blue eyes, or his dark hair. What Gene had told her when they’d first met popped into her head. “I’m the odd one. Pop used to tease Mom that she’d had a fling with a traveling salesman and I was the result.” Now, of course, the reason for his looks was clear.
Gene’s dad, John, was in his mid-fifties, with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses. His build was stockier than Gene’s and he was a few inches shorter, with brown eyes and a pleasant smile.
Phyllis was also in her fifties, with straight, light-brown hair, a lovely, smooth complexion, and cheerful green eyes. She was everything a “Mom” should be – generous, loving, caring, gracious. In the forty minutes since Vivian had arrived, Phyllis had already managed to make her feel completely comfortable and at home.
Gene’s brother, Jack, was an intense man of twenty-three, with light brown hair like his mother and he had her vivid eyes. He was quiet, though not unfriendly. He just seemed like he had a lot on his mind. Viv could only speculate, and she wondered if the brothers had ever hashed everything out after the “incident”.
Laura and Julie were also quiet and sweet. Laura, 21, was a bit on the plain side, her hair was a lighter shade than her mother’s and her eyes more pastel, and her teeth were a bit crooked. But, Vivian would class her as “pleasant looking.” Julie, who was 19, more closely resembled Mrs. Banks, and was girl-next-door cute, with a beautiful smile and two charming dimples. She wore her hair, which was a bit darker than her mother’s, long and wavy – it reached past her shoulders, and she kept it tied back with a white ribbon.
Lastly was Jeff. A bright, precocious youngster, he was small for his age, and wore wire-rimmed glasses like his father. But he was full of life and energy, and his mind seemed to run 100 miles-an-hour. Phyllis periodically admonished him, with gentle persuasion, to eat his food, as he tended to get off on a subject and forget.
“Said Juliet to Romeo – if you won’t shave, go homeo. Burma-Shave,” Jeff rattled off another rhyme.
Gene swallowed a bite of food and exchanged glances with Vivian as he rolled his eyes, whispering, “He’s on a roll now. He might not stop ’till this time next week.”
“Sshh,” Viv admonished softly and reached under the table to give him a playful swat on his knee.
“If you think she likes your bristles, walk bare-footed through some thistles. Burma-Shave.”
John, who was light-heartedly laughing, leaned toward his youngest and warned, “All right, you’ve had your fun young man, now eat.”
“Aww Pop, I’m just gettin’ warmed up!” the boy whined, even as he took a bite of his meat and quickly washed it down with a drink from his glass of milk.
“Here’s one for you, Mom. Does your husband misbehave, grunt and grumble, rant and rave? Shoot the brute some Burma-Shave!” the boy quoted teasingly, a giggle escaping as his father reached to aim a playful swat at his head, which he missed, on purpose.
“Where did you find all of those, Jeff? Those are some really good ones,” Vivian complimented.
“Oh, I don’t know – here and there. There’s a man at church that’s a long-haul trucker and he writes ’em down for me when he sees a new one. I’ve been collectin’ ’em for years,” the boy answered with a big grin. He was obviously pleased that she was enjoying his recitation – and he was relishing her attention.
“And we’ve been hearing them for years,” Jack contributed. “Let’s see…
He played a sax, had no B.O., but his whiskers scratched – so she let him go – Burma-Shave.”
“I’ve always loved this one: Mug and brush, Old Adam had ’em. Is your husband like Adam, Madam? Burma-Shave,” Laura recited with a laugh. “That one gets me every time.”
“My favorite has always been, Whiskers long made Samson strong, but Samson’s gal, she done him wrong. Burma-Shave,” Julie giggled.
“What’s your favorite Mom?” Jeff chuckled as everyone continued to erupt in giggles at the silly game.
Phyllis thought for a moment. “Well, I never forgot: His tenor voice she thought divine, till whiskers scratched Sweet Adeline. Burma-Shave.”
“Miss Vivian? How about you? Do you know any?” Jeff queried, obviously not wishing to let the game stop.
Vivian pursed her lips as she tried to remember one a customer at the bank had told her several days before. “Um…I heard this the other day and thought it was funny…College Cutie, Pigskin Hero, Bristly kiss, Hero-zero. Burma-Shave.”
Everyone burst out laughing at the rhyme and the cute, sing-song way she had said it, and with a perfect delivery. Gene looked over at her as he laughed with the others, his eyes sparkling.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Gene relented, wiping his mouth with his napkin and clearing his throat in preparation. He raised his fist and made as if smacking the air past his chin and recited in a perfect buccaneer’s brogue, “Shiver me timbers said Captain Mack. We’re ten knots out but we’re turnin’ back – I forgot me Burma-Shave.” The room erupted in boisterous guffaws.
Vivian put one hand on his arm and another on her stomach as she tried to hold back her mirth, but couldn’t stop giggling as tears of giddiness filled her eyes. She couldn’t remember when she had had more fun during a meal – her parents were always so quiet and formal at dinner.
“Oh oh! I almost forgot this one!” Jeff burst out as he readied his audience for another Burma-Shave rhyme.
“Oh Mrs. Banks, that was absolutely delicious. But I wish I hadn’t eaten that second piece of cake!” Vivian playfully groaned as she rubbed her stomach. She was sitting on the couch next to Gene, while the girls, Laura and Julie, were in the kitchen cleaning up. They had adamantly refused her help. Jack had gone outside to do some chores, taking Jeff with him on the pretext of needing his help. Gene knew he was purposely trying to make it easier for him to have a conversation with their parents.
“Man, I didn’t think about it, but, where’s Emma?” Gene had asked his brother as he had reached the door.
Jack smiled as he thought about his wife. “Her sister had a baby, she lives in Owensboro, so she’s there helping out,” he answered, meeting Gene’s eyes. “Listen Geebee,” he began, using the nickname he used to call Gene when they were kids. “I’ve said it before, but…I’m sorry for the way I…”
Gene shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He had given his brother a bear hug, brother style, and then the younger man had headed out the door.
Now, the confident sergeant looked across at his father, settled in his over-stuffed chair, and his mother in her high-backed wooden rocker, and he felt dread coming over him again. He was torn between wanting to know more and not wanting to stir up ill feelings – for any of them.
Viv, as if she sensed what he was feeling, reached over and laid her hand on his arm in silent support. He turned his head and gave her a small smile.
“So…it’s been a long time since we saw you…I mean, since Jack and Emma’s wedding…” Phyllis began.
John cleared his throat in the suddenly awkward atmosphere. “Yeah, did Jack tell you we fixed up the old cabin at the base of the south hill for them?”
“Yeah, he did, actually. I think that’s swell for a first home…give them some privacy,” Gene also cleared his throat. Vivian squeezed his arm again, wishing she could help.
Finally, he ventured, “Listen, I don’t know quite what to say…”
Phyllis suddenly leaned forward and reached across for his hand. He took it, and she smiled at him through misty eyes. “Eugene, honey…we know now that we were wrong not to tell you. Ask us anything you need to know, and if we know the answer, we’ll share it.”
Gene drew in a deep breath, picking through his thoughts and deciding what to ask first. He finally murmured, “Do you know who my parents were?”
John and Phyllis exchanged a look. John offered, “Your mo…the woman who gave you birth, worked as a cook in the house of one of the oil field owners. Her husband…your real…father,” John faltered at that word and stopped briefly to press his lips together. “He was killed in the Great War. The oil field manager, Mr. Carriker, well, he promised her that he would find a good home for you. It all happened quickly. One day your mom and I were childless, and the next, we had a tiny, precious new son,” his voice choked and he took his glasses off to wipe his eyes with a handkerchief.
“We love you so much, Eugene,” Phyllis urged as she held tight to Gene’s hand. “Right from the first, you were our baby, our little boy. We didn’t actually plan at first to keep it from you. It just never seemed the right time – first you were too young to understand, then the other children came along, and then you started school. Matter of fact, the conversation that your brother overheard, we were discussing that fact. A little girl at school that week had asked you why you didn’t resemble the rest of your family, and you’d come home and asked me…”
She turned her head and her eyes met those of her husband again. When she turned back, her eyes were full, and one tear spilled over to run down her cheek. “You’re our son, honey. You’re a Banks. And we love you and worry over you just as much as your brothers and sisters. There has never been any difference in our hearts.”
Gene sniffed and gave his mother’s hand a squeeze, then let go so that he could reach into his pocket and retrieve his own handkerchief. “I know Mom…Pop…it was just…” he hesitated.
“Just what, honey?” His mom prompted, glancing at Vivian, who was blinking through her own tears.
Gene scrambled for how to share his heart without hurting his parents. “I’d always thought both of you were…straight up…”
“Eugene,” John began, leaning forward much like his wife and met his son’s eyes. “Keeping that secret from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I’ll tell you right now, before God, it’s the only thing I’m ashamed of. In every other way and every other thing, I’ve always been honest, just like I’ve always taught you kids to be. I’m sorry that we hurt you, son. That was the last thing we wanted to do.”
“Can you forgive us, honey?” Phyllis whispered.
Suddenly, the room was full of crying members of the Banks family. Laura and Julie had finished up the dishes and had been hovering nearby, when they suddenly launched themselves at their brother. He rose to receive their embrace. The floodgates opened and everyone was hugging and sniffling. The girls told their older brother, over and over, how proud they were of him and how much they loved him. Julie added that they wouldn’t trade him for all of the “brothers in China.” That got a laugh out of everyone, and the tension started to recede.
Gene turned, holding a hand out to Viv who stood and went to him instantly as he pulled her against his side. He was so glad now that he had heeded this special woman’s urging and come back home. She’d been right – it was long overdue.
Now, he hoped that hovering feeling of the “unknown” that had dogged him his whole life would begin to fade away.
CHAPTER 14
Vivian had never been happier. She had found her Prince Charming, and every day getting to know her blue-eyed sergeant just got sweeter and sweeter. The days slid into weeks, with the happy couple sharing the occasional phone call or note, anxiously waiting for the weekends to arrive so that they could spend time together.
During that time, Gene took the tests for promotion to the rank of first sergeant, had met with the panel of twelve officers, passing both with flying colors, and received his new str
ipes and a pay increase of twenty dollars a month.
Tired of depending on friends or the bus, the first thing he did was purchase some transportation – a 1932 Ford Sedan, black on black. It didn’t look like much, kind of rusty and had a dented fender, but it ran well. He and Vivian celebrated the milestone by going on a picnic with his friends Vic and Louise Matthews.
It was a sweltering July day. Once Gene and Viv picked the other couple up at their apartment, they all decided to take off down River Road until they found a good spot to pull over and enjoy the view of the river. They were all fanning themselves in the hot car by the time Gene pulled off the pavement and set the brake.
“How about here?” he asked his passengers. As one, they agreed it was a good choice. Down below was a small area with a soft cushion of fallen leaves, with trees and bushes all around.
The foursome collected the picnic basket and old quilts and headed down the incline.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful here,” Vivian gushed as they neared the water. The river was shallower than usual, due to the low amount of rainfall that summer, but the view of Indiana half a mile across the expanse of slow-moving water was lovely – green trees, hills, wild shrubbery, and a one-lane road meandering next to the water.
They spread the quilts out side by side and settled down, with the girls in the middle, and the guys sitting on the outside. The air was much cooler there, coming off the water and in the shade. It was peaceful, with the gentle lapping of the small waves and the river breeze.
“Oh, this is so wonderful. I really needed this. It was a hard week at work, the building is so hot now,” Louise sighed, reaching to gather her hair and tie it up off her neck. She looked fetching in her sleeveless bandana shirt and Bermuda shorts.
Vivian settled comfortably on the blanket and stretched her slender legs out, hoping Gene was looking – she was wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts as well, with a light blue sleeveless top. She slipped off her shoes and cast a look at the other woman. “Where do you work, Louise?”
