by Linda Ellen
Mary June let out a squeak of dismay and turned her caring eyes in Gene and Viv’s direction, seeing matching sentiments in theirs. “That’s horrible!” she exclaimed. “What an awful man.”
“Yep,” Steve agreed, and proceeded to continue the tale, but it was as if he were talking about someone else’s life, not his own. As if he had disengaged his emotions.
“So, after he left, she started pacing back and forth, wringing her hands, in a panic. That’s when she told me they’d adopted me and that she’d always hated it in Texas, on those ‘dirty, nasty oil fields’. That was news to me. But she went out the next day to the train station to send a telegram, and then came home, packed up some of our clothes, and we took the train to Carmel, where she’d grown up. We stayed with her sister’s family, only in an old shack out back of their house. Had to go in the main house to use the bathroom or get water or eat. After a while, Mom took in laundry to make a little money, but from then on, things like clothes and food always seemed to be in short supply. So, at eighteen, I went in the C’s and then I joined up – and here I am,” he finished with a flip of one hand. “And that’s the extent of my life story.”
“Is your mom okay now?” Viv asked softly, and Mary June watched his expression closely.
Steve sat up and reached for the last olive in a small dish on the quilt. Popping it into his mouth, he mumbled around it with a shrug, “I guess so. Ain’t talked to her in a while.”
Knowingly, Mary June leaned closer to gently touch his arm. “Have you contacted her since you left for the C’s?”
He stopped chewing and flashed her a look that said she’d guessed rightly. Then he met his brother’s eyes, which were regarding him in total understanding, and muttered, “No.” Mary June’s heart compressed further and once again she had to fight to keep from trying to take him into her arms. His story had made her maternal instincts rise to gargantuan proportions, like dough on a steam table. She almost couldn’t contain them.
For a few moments, the atmosphere prickled with various emotions, ranging from frustration to empathy. All of them instinctively sensed that Steve didn’t want to talk about it anymore. They watched as he stretched out on his back, one knee raised, seemingly in total relaxation.
Then Viv, ever the peacemaker, picked up a napkin and wiped her hands, stating softly, “I think I’ll put the rest of this food away. Oh, and honey, I’ve been meaning to ask – how is Gary doing?”
Mary June smiled as she thought of the third of the triplets, Gareth B. Tucker, Jr. The one of the three that was the most polished and refined, as he had grown up with the best of everything – everything, that is, except siblings with whom to share the normal escapades of childhood.
Gene stretched out on his back and laced his fingers together under his head. “He’s well. He and Mr. Tucker…Dad Tucker, went back to Texas to finalize details on the Louisville plant.” The girls both nodded, and Mary June remembered the Tuckers mentioning, on that night at the Brown, that they would be opening a division of Tucker Industries in the ’Ville. As she recalled, Gary was set to run it.
“Oh, but they’re coming to you guys’ wedding, aren’t they?” Mary June asked as she handed a covered bowl containing leftover slices of fresh fruit to Viv to be put back in the basket.
“Yep. I talked to him on the phone a few days ago and he said he and Dad wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“That’s good,” Mary June smiled, looking forward to seeing the two gentlemen again.
Steve lay flat on his back on the soft cover; fingers entwined under his head, staring up at a blue sky full of white, fluffy clouds. He’d always enjoyed that feeling of laying still and watching them move, making him feel as if he were the one that was moving, and not them. Like he was floating along on a calm river, drifting tranquil and serene.
The girls were chatting quietly while putting away the uneaten foodstuffs, and it was a soothing backdrop to his peaceful contemplation. He hadn’t meant to spill his guts the way he had, telling his companions so much of his wretched childhood. He had buried those memories way down deep, so deep he had thought they would never be resurrected – but Mary June’s gentle question had somehow unearthed the whole lot.
But as he had shared, for the first time in his life he felt as if he were with people who genuinely cared about him, about his feelings and the hurts of his past. It was amazing how much difference that made. Growing up in Carmel, any time he had tried to mention things of that sort, someone invariably smacked him down with a harsh comment along the lines of Suck it up and be a man, or Everybody has problems, get over yourself, or Yeah, yeah, my heart bleeds peanut butter for you. He shook his head to dislodge the painful memories.
But now, in the company of his brother and these two wonderful young women, he had found acceptance. If he weren’t careful, he’d be tearing up, and that was something that tough-as-nails Steve Wheeler just didn’t do.
He turned his head enough to let his gaze surreptitiously roam over the girls. His brother’s fiancée, Vivian Powell, was truly a girl-next-door cutie; no less so in the soft, cotton summer floral-patterned dress she was wearing. She was sitting with her legs tucked demurely to the side as she chatted happily with her friend. Yep, he mused, my brother sure found him a keeper with that one.
Shifting just a bit, his view took in Mary June sitting closer to him on the coverlet. She had taken down her Victory Rolls and brushed out her long, wavy, brunette hair, securing it back with two combs. It cascaded several inches past her shoulders. Her short-sleeved, blue and white, tartan dress had a scooped neck and flared skirt with a form-fitting bodice that nipped in at her small waist. For a moment, he wondered if his hands could span that waist or if there would be space left, and his lips moved into a small smile, wondering if he would get the chance to find out.
As he gazed at her, noting the fair skin of her face and arms, ever so lightly dusted with tan freckles, he marveled at himself. Of the two girls, Viv was by far the most attractive, in a classic sense, but notwithstanding the fact that she was engaged to Gene, he found he wasn’t attracted to her in the least. All he felt toward her was that of a brother to a sister, of which she would be in a very short time. But Mary June – each time he was in her presence, he found himself more and more drawn to her. Like bees to honey? That was putting it mildly. More like a brown bear to a picnic basket…a starving mongrel to a juicy steak…a fish to a worm on a hook…
He shook his head, almost chuckling at himself. She wasn’t his type. Or at least…not the type of girl he usually went for. But then again…what did that type of girl get a guy? Those kind that were hotter than the weather usually had a guy kicking on the first down and praying for a break. But when the break came, they wished they were back at the first down again so they could walk away and not even start the game… No, Mary June was definitely the kind of gal a fellow daydreamed of starting a family with, working his fingers to the bone for, buying a house in the suburbs for. Yessiree.
But the problem was, he didn’t know how she felt. Was she attracted to him? Or did she only tag along with the lovebirds on the other side of the quilt so that they could make it a foursome and he wouldn’t feel like a third wheel? The only emotions he’d been able to stir in her as far as he had seen were anger and sympathy. Not the kind of thing that lent itself to romance.
Or was it? Maybe he could find out if there were more affectionate emotions hidden within…
He sat up, stretching his arms forward and then straight above his head, pretending to stifle a yawn as if he’d just awakened from a nap.
“Hey guys, how about we walk off some of that food?”
The others looked over at him, the looks on their faces letting him know they were relieved he was “all right” after his earlier moments of woe.
“Sounds like a good idea. Let’s get this stuff back to the car first, though,” Viv responded.
The four stood up and began to gather their picnic paraphernalia. “You
got somewhere special in mind to walk?” Gene asked, shooting him a grin.
“Yep. A private I know at the plant, named Sheldon, told me about it. It’s not too far,” he added with a mischievous twinkle.
“Oh right – I’d forgotten about your ‘secret’,” Viv giggled.
Once they had stored the items away, the four of them took off through the woods down a hard-packed dirt trail. The trees were so thick they couldn’t see where they were headed or what might be at the other end.
They walked along, Gene and Viv in front, holding hands, while Mary June and Steve strolled a few paces behind. He glanced over at his companion, noting she kept watching the couple in front with unmistakable longing, but when she realized he was watching her, she shifted her focus to their surroundings. Her hands were firmly shoved into her dress pockets.
After about ten minutes, Mary June called, “Ouch! Hold up, guys,” and stopped with a hand on a nearby tree trunk as she took off one of her shoes and emptied out a small pebble that had found its way inside. Turning to look at Gene, she muttered, “Wish we could have driven the car…and hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you – how come, with gas rationing and all – you never seem to be low on fuel?”
Gene laughed, pulling Viv against his side. “Let’s just say…it’s a privilege of rank.”
“Braggart,” Steve playfully sneered, although he didn’t mean it. Deep down, he was over-the-top proud of his ten-minutes-older brother.
Gene chuckled and sent him a wide grin. “So, how much farther, bro?”
Steve smiled back, equally wide. “Should be right around that bend,” he indicated a turn in the dirt trail up ahead.
“Goodness, the suspense is about to kill me. Lead on, park ranger,” Mary June quipped.
Steve laughed and slipped one hand around her arm, unconsciously escorting her as they moved on. “Okay, I’ll be Ranger Steve for a minute. My little buddy tells me that we are walking on top of what is known as the Knobstone Escarpment. The town in the hills near New Albany was named Floyd’s Knobs because of this and a man named Colonel Davis Floyd, way back in 1815. Now, on this escarpment, the highest point is Weed Patch Hill, and it has an elevation of over 1,000 feet, one of the highest hills in the state.”
Mary June tittered. “Well, that explains why the town is named Floyd’s Knobs, but…why do they call it Weed Patch?”
“Story is that an early settler named it that after a tornado had flattened many of the trees, and weeds grew in their place.”
“Ahh, makes sense,” she nodded, glancing up at him with shining eyes.
As they rounded the curve in the trail, the trees suddenly opened up into a large flat field, and there, about a hundred or so feet to the right, was a tall object made of steel girders – a tower, reaching up toward the blue, cloud-dotted sky.
Four mouths dropped open in wonder.
CHAPTER 7
“Oh my goodness, it’s a fire tower,” Viv said in awe.
“Yep.”
“And there’s a paved path, too. We could have driven,” Mary June sighed.
Steve laughed. “That little…I’m gonna have to think of some way to get Sheldon back for lying to me about that. But for now, let’s go see this thing!”
Hurrying over, they arrived at the base of the structure, which was surrounded by a six-foot chain link fence with a gate, and Mary June tipped her head back to look up. “Jeepers, it looks so high – must be a hundred feet tall.” She quickly counted out loud nine flights of open risers with a wooden platform at each level.
Swiveling to Steve with wide eyes, she squeaked, “We’re going up there?”
Steve waved a hand in dismissal. “Sure, nothing to it. You do know how to climb, don’t you? Just put one foot in front of the other…”
She flashed him a look of chagrin. “There’s a bit more to it than that.”
“I don’t know about this,” Viv hedged, glancing at Gene to get his opinion. He shrugged with relaxed nonchalance.
“Why not? Looks like fun. And I bet the view from up there is a killer-diller.”
A voice called down from above in greeting and they all craned their necks to try and see him, but he was too far up to make out his features. Steve called back, “Is it all right if we come up and take a look around?”
The man called back that it was.
The girls looked at one another. Finally, huffing a determined sigh, Viv challenged, “I’m game if you are.”
Mary June’s eyebrows lifted, she tilted her head back and looked up at the small cabin high in the sky one more time, and then looked back at her friend. Taking in a deep breath, she declared, “Okay, up we go!”
“That’s the spirit,” Steve returned, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
They started up. Gene went first, putting the girls between him and Steve. “Now, if one of us falls, you’re gonna catch us all, right?” He called back to his brother.
“Sounds like that’s above my pay grade, bucko. Sorry,” Steve called back in playful sarcasm. The others all snickered, not taking their eyes off the steps they were climbing.
Mary June couldn’t help but notice that Gene was very solicitous of Vivian, making sure she was holding on and that she wasn’t scared as they began their ascent. Steve, however, Mary June decided, seemed to have awakened from his brief nap with a bee in his Garrison cap. Every few steps, he’d make a noise or shake the stairs, causing the girls to squeal, after which he would let out an evil-sounding chuckle. Finally, Gene called down to him to knock it off, and he did, to Mary June’s everlasting relief.
On the fifth wooden platform up, the four stopped to rest and soak in the view, which was now above the tops of the surrounding trees. “Oh my,” Mary June sighed. “This is just amazing.”
“The view from the top’ll be even better,” Steve announced. “Let’s keep going. And on this go-round, old man, we’ll go first and you bring up the rear.”
“Ten-four,” Gene responded.
Steve began the climb, but this time he was all business, and no funny stuff. They were all a little more careful, as the farther up they went, the more unnerved they felt, no matter that they were holding on to solid handrails on both sides. “Hold the rails tight, and don’t look down,” Steve advised, and Mary June tilted her head back to see his face above her, looking back with concern in his eyes.
She sent him a tiny grateful smile. “I’ll try not to.”
Up and up and up they climbed; six flights, seven, eight, nine… With each creaking step, Mary June would swallow and tell herself there was no reason to be afraid. She was safe. The man in the tower went up and down these steps every day. The guys would be there if something happened. But, the higher up they went, all was eerily quiet, and the air seemed to press onto her body and make her feel a bit lightheaded.
“Is the tower swaying in the wind? It feels like it’s swaying!” she gulped nervously, glancing for a mere second up at Steve as he slowed and turned his head to look down at her.
“It does!” Viv squealed. “Oh Gene!”
“It’s not,” Steve’s calm tone cut through the fear for both girls. “That’s just your imagination. The air’s thinner up here and it messes with your sense of balance, makes you feel lighter than you do on the ground. Just keep climbing and grip the handrails, you’ll be fine. We’re almost there.”
The soothing sound of his voice helped reassure Mary June, and she took a deep breath and continued on, as he had told her on the ground, putting one foot in front of the other. It was as if all of her senses were heightened, but it also intensified her awareness of the man who was climbing the stairway just several steps above her. The shiny brown of his service shoes and the smooth khaki of his uniform trousers moving rhythmically up each tread gave her the confidence to keep going.
Once they reached the top, they were directly under the floor of the cabin, where a trap door was already open in welcome. Steve climbed up into the enclosed lookout station. Quickly,
he turned and reached down. “Here, give me your hands and I’ll help you up.”
Mary June placed her hands in his and couldn’t help but register his strong, sure grip, making her feel totally safe in his grasp. Once she was up on the platform floor, she moved over out of the way of the others climbing inside.
Gene clambered up and shut the trap door. Then they turned to greet their host – a wiry, silver-haired older man in overalls and a billed hat, who was standing on the other side of the small windowed enclosure. He gave them a friendly smile and a wave.
“Hey kids. Welcome to my little home away from home in the sky. I’m the lookout for Weed Patch Tower. Name’s Bennie Petro.”
The four introduced themselves, and then as one, moved to one side to take in the vista that spread out seemingly to infinity in all directions. Each one murmured “Oooo’s,” and “Ahhh’s,” as they tried to take it all in.
To say the view was breathtaking would do it a huge disservice. It was awe-inspiring. Trees, hills, valleys, and greenery stretched as far as their eyes could see. The trees hadn’t begun to turn for autumn yet, but Mary June could imagine the incredible myriad of colors when they did. It would be a majestic patchwork quilt of oranges, yellows, reds, and browns, and with a little green left for contrast.
“It’s so wonderful up here,” she whispered. The tiny cabin, girded to the ground, felt solid and safe, and not at all as if it were swaying in the wind – of which she was eternally grateful. The eight side-by-side sliding windows were open to the fresh air, and the aroma of something that reminded her vaguely of sorghum drifted in as the afternoon sunlight warmed the metal and wood structure.
After a while, Mary June turned from the incredible view and looked around the small enclosure. Items in the tiny hut consisted of one tall chair, a small electric space heater, a broom, an odd looking black telephone with a tiny base and an oversized handset, a container of water, and what looked like the man’s lunch box. On a cabinet mounted directly in the center of the diminutive space lay a pair of binoculars and several strange looking objects, including the telephone.