Her dimple tempted him too much, so he landed a kiss right there, then a longer one on her lips. A tremor passed through him. Put off getting married? No, not even till tomorrow.
“You sure you want to go through with this, Al?”
His eyes blurred. “As sure as I’ve ever been of anything.” He almost added that he didn’t think he could survive another night alone.
****
“We catch the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe in Fort Madison, Dot. I drew out the route on this map, big enough so we can see where we are at a glance as we go along.”
“When did you make this?” Dottie nestled as close to Al as possible. Twenty-four hours, they’d been married. She kept reminding herself she wasn’t dreaming. Pastor Langley really had pronounced them man and wife.
“Between firefighting and getting ready for our wedding.” He gave her a lazy smile and stroked her knee through her bathrobe, a delicate garment Cora sent her for a wedding gift, along with a matching nightgown and her train ticket. She added a note that Millie and Ren sent money to help pay for the tickets.
By the time Dottie opened the girls’ gifts, she hardly needed to go shopping anymore. Wearing the new clothing made her feel like a young bride, starting out all over again.
At the wedding, Mrs. Langley exclaimed, “Why Dottie, you look like a million dollars!”
Now, she started planning. If Cora felt up to it, they could shop for Christmas presents in California, instead of having to pack them. She’d started folding things into that old suitcase, but it was Sunday night already, with only tomorrow left to find another decent dress for the trip.
All of a sudden, how she looked mattered—she wanted Al proud to stand beside her. When Mrs. Langley made her million-dollar comment, he scurried to her side.
“Doesn’t she? I feel like I must be robbing the cradle.”
She gave him a look, but inside, she felt younger. On the trip, she’d have to wash things out at night, but could she do that in the train? The flyer showed small washrooms shared with others, but where would she hang her stockings overnight?
Maybe it would be good, after all, to stay over at some point. Maybe she’d buy some wild Mexican print at a street market like the ones those dancing women flaunted in the flyer. A flush spread to her cheeks at the idea.
Al pointed to the extreme southeast corner of Iowa. “Del offered to drive us down there, and found someone to work at the hardware for the day. The train leaves at one-thirty, so we’ll have to take off about eight o’clock.”
“I should pack a lunch, then?”
“Sounds good. I hope we have a little time to look around. If I’m not mistaken, this station is where I met the troop train in ’17. Bet the town has changed so much I won’t recognize a thing.” He focused on the flyer again. “I think we start out on the Ak-Sar-Ben Zephyr—know what that means?”
“No, what?”
“Nothing. It’s Nebraska spelled backwards. Some yokel had a brilliant idea.”
“Must have been an Army man—they’re always making up abbreviations. Owen had to translate Bill’s first letters for me.”
“I know what you mean. Anyway, one train runs east to Burlington in the daytime, and west to Lincoln at night.” He read some more. “No, wait. Sorry. We start out on the Advance Flyer operated by the Chicago, Burlington, and Quincy Line, switch in…” His enthusiasm vibrated to Dottie, in spite of her fears.
“Want to read the menu? Says here ‘food fit for a king.’”
Eat on the train? How could anyone eat while they were moving? Al’s voice pulsed with the thrill of adventure.
“Dot, if I’m reading this right, we go through Dodge City, where that famous shootout—”
Someone banged on the back door, and he went to answer it. Snitches of conversation traveled through the dining room. “Pipe busted…flooded the kitchen…if we could get some help from Delbert…”
“Sure thing. I’ll call him, and he’ll meet you down at the hardware, Harm.” She could picture Al patting Harm’s shoulder. “Don’t think a thing about it.”
The back door banged shut, and the telephone’s gears ground as Al rang Central. “No, Hilda, not exactly a big emergency. Just get Del for me, will you?”
Dottie pushed back into the cushions. Hilda would never change. But she did control herself during the fires, at least. Al’s voice sounded so steady as he explained things to Del. His whole kitchen was flooded, yet he stayed calm.
“Harm’s headed to the hardware right now. Nope, I’m not going over.”
Al returned scratching his head. “What next? A pipe burst in the kitchen. Harm patched it up, but he’s afraid it won’t last long—bound to happen, I suppose, with so many more people in there all of a sudden.”
“That makes me think, we haven’t ever finished talking about which house…”
“No, but I’ve been thinking, why don’t I sell mine to Harm—he doesn’t know if it’d be worth the cost to rebuild.”
“Sell your house? I was thinking the same thing about this one.”
“This is nowhere near big enough for Mabel and Harm’s clan. I know about the family history next door, but…” A faraway look entered Al’s eyes. “When memories fill every corner, it’s a mix of good and bad. Time to leave the past behind.”
“Are you sure?”
“So sure, I mentioned it to Harm today after church. He and Mabel talked it over this afternoon, and he just told me over the phone they’re planning on buying it. I had no idea it would happen that fast—I was going to tell you about it this afternoon.” He tapped the back of her hand. “Why? Don’t you like having me here?”
Dottie snuggled in under his arm. The way he tightened it around her assured her he’d gotten her message.
She looked up to see his smile. “Did you see Henrietta’s face today in church?”
“I did, and she kept her distance. I feel sorry for her—all those cookies and pies she brought you, Al. She must have had her hopes up.”
“She just needed something to do. Hopefully, she’ll get a hankering to take some to the boarding house, where they’re really needed.” He glanced at the pale yellow drapes. “D’I ever tell you about that one day last fall when she walked right in with a pie? I’d been cleaning, and hid behind the drapes.”
“Did she see you?”
“Nah. It was pretty shadowy. But she stood there for a couple of minutes. She carried on quite a conversation all by herself…couldn’t understand why I wasn’t home, since she hadn’t seen me walk by her house on my way downtown.”
“You just waited for her to leave?”
“What else could I do? It was the day of our first real date…the first time I invited you over after our little fishing trip. I had to clean the house, and if Henrietta started talking about her gallbladder, I’d never have finished.”
Al lifted Dottie’s chin. “I was mighty serious about you way back then, Dot. Mighty, mighty serious.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dottie and Al sank into kitchen chairs for some tea amidst piles of boxes. They’d moved Al’s tools into her shed. Her attic held a few more things, but most of the furniture stayed put next door. Del asked for a couple of pieces, and agreed to store Nan’s Hoosier cupboard for Charlie and his wife.
“Sure glad Harm agreed to buy the rest.” Al’s tiredness gave way to a lighthearted sensation—it felt good to be rid of all that stuff. “If anybody told me a week ago about the fires, selling my house, and moving in such a short time, I’d have thought they just flipped their lid.”
“You and Harm signed the contract?”
“Signed, sealed, and about to be delivered. Shorty pushed the paperwork through at the bank—lowered his standards this one time if we kept it quiet. Harm promised the down payment by Friday, and he’ll pay fifteen dollars a month for the next five years—won’t hurt us to have regular money coming in.”
One word stayed with Dottie—us. She wouldn’t have to worry ab
out money any longer.
“You never did get to go shopping, Dot. Do you have what you need?”
“I found just the thing at the Wearwithall this morning, but I feel like we must be forgetting something.”
Al gave her a grin. “I’ll run down to the bank for some cash. We’re married and we’ve got our tickets. That’s all we need, sweetie pie.”
****
Al left the bank with two hundred dollars cash and steered toward home. But the Benson Market sign reminded him of old Tibbs—he hadn’t felt the need to stop in lately. Maybe he’d take a minute to say hello.
His beard moving with every tobacco chew, Tibbs manned his stool beside the crackling stove. The sharp tang of pickled herring wafted from the cooler. Filled shelves offered an assortment of foodstuffs and automobile necessities.
“I’ll be jiggered—Albert Jensen. I started checkin’ the obituaries, you hain’t stopped in for so long!”
Al expected ribbing, but maybe his newly married status hadn’t reached the Market yet. “I’ve been busy—Christmas season. Took Dottie down to see Millie and Ren last Sunday.”
“To Burlington?”
“No, Cedar Rapids.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s the Coulter girl what lives down by the river. How’s Millie and hers doin’?”
“Fine.” Al waited to be quizzed, but Tibbs changed the subject.
“D’I ever tell you me and Millie’s grandpa—that’d be Dottie’s pa—went coon huntin’ over by Heston?”
“Only twenty times.” Tibbs’ daughter-in-law Janet threw her jibe, but Tibbs paid no attention.
“That old fella was a mean one. Beat his dog when he couldn’t tree a coon, and that’s the truth. This was ’bout the time your daddy built the hardware.”
Al’s ears perked up. Tibbs filed away family tales to fit whoever walked in. But he didn’t recall hearing anything about Dottie’s family.
“Not a good man?”
“Low-down. That night he wanted a coon, one way or t’other, ’cause they’d like to starve the next day, if he didn’t scare up somethin’.”
Al ransacked his slim knowledge of Dottie’s childhood. Owen mentioned her father’s failed farming ventures, a line of older brothers and sisters, her mama dying young.
Tibbs spat in the general direction of a brass spittoon, but squiggles hit dry floorboards all around. Others hissed against the iron stove. Al jerked at the sound, but tamped down his reaction—he’d been doing fine. Being with Dottie was what he’d needed.
“Them was hard times. D’I ever tell you about my daddy bein’ a Holy Roller?”
Al shook his head. “Don’t believe so.”
“He was one, true enough. Tried to make his works match his religion, he did. When I got home after hunting, I told Daddy what Dottie’s Pa said, and wouldn’t you know it? Daddy got the generosity in him, and we hauled a ham out to their shack right then and there.”
“Wasn’t it about ten miles?”
“That it was, and danged cold—worst winter I recall. Daddy said, ‘That ornery Colwell thrashes his kids regular, for no reason—they’re too scared to set foot in the store. Cute as a bug’s ear, that little one is. Can’t let ’em go without food. No sirree.’
“We skulked through the pasture, only a moon sliver above us. Hung that ham on a nail right over the doorway, with a gunnysack of two loaves of bread and a pound of butter so’s they’d bat Colwell in the face next morning.”
Tibbs sucked his few remaining teeth. Al took a step back, just in case.
“Wonder if that beatin’ kept the hound from puttin’ up a fuss? Daddy made me vow never mention what we done to a living soul—it was his good works.”
Several things about the story amazed Al, not the least that Tibbs kept their good deed quiet. “Did Colwell ever mention it?”
“Many a time. Swore things turned around for him that day, and the crops got better that summer, and they had an easier winter next time around. ’Course, the banks went haywire, and everything got worse. But he still called that food heaven’s gift, and never had no idea how it got there.”
He resettled on his stool. “Yup. My Daddy believed the kind of fear that men like Colwell put into their young’uns lasts forever. You gotta love it out—no other way.”
A couple of farmers walked in, and Tibbs waved them over. Al listened a few minutes longer but faded from the growing crowd as the workday ended. He made his way home to Dottie’s house—home, and organized his boxes around in the shed.
One of Tibb’s father’s statements from long ago thrummed through his brain, over and over. “He thrashes them kids regular.”
The kitchen light beckoned, and he visualized Dottie, getting ready though the trip scared her to the bone. She truly was a wonder, growing up like that, but still raising three strong children.
Now, he carried Tibbs’ advice with him—to help her overcome her father’s legacy, he was more than willing to love those fears right out of her.
****
Dottie recognized Bonnie Mae’s voice first, then George’s. The distinct bang of spoons on pan lids jolted her fully from sleep. She shook Al’s shoulder. “Someone’s here.”
He jerked upright. “Wha…?”
The babble of singing, shouting, and clacking increased.
Al drew back the drape. “Why, they’re here to chivaree us. There’s Ned—even Bert Smith’s out there.”
“Oh, no.”
“Might as well get your robe on. They’re not going away.”
Dottie’s Big Ben alarm clock never lied—it was midnight. At least Al had gotten a few hours of solid sleep. She found her moccasins and followed him to the front door, where the jabbering mob now congregated.
“Ready for this?”
Ready or not, here they came. Folks drifted in, bringing frosty air with them. Boots and coats piled the entryway like a rubbish heap.
Bonnie Mae, with a boarding house lid and wooden spoon in her hands, grinned from ear to ear.
“Is this your idea?” Green eyes glinted. George and Ned nodded their heads.
Henry Olson stepped up. “Congratulations.” He held out an envelope. “Figured you could use a little extra, so we went together…”
Dottie hung onto Al’s hand, thankful she didn’t have to say anything.
“Why, you sure didn’t need to…” Al leaned toward her. “Dottie and I thank you. Find yourselves some seats. We’ll get some coffee going.”
Bonnie Mae bustled George and Ned toward the kitchen, each with a big box in their hands. “We brought some food, hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not.” Dottie started to follow, but the redhead gave her curls a firm shake. “You stay out here and talk to people. We’ve got the kitchen covered.”
Two hours later, the last guest left. Dottie collapsed against Al as he opened the envelope. “Don’t know when I’ve been this bamboozled.”
“Me neither. And to think they put together fifty dollars—maybe I’ll splurge on a cowboy hat. What about you?”
“Come on, let’s dream about what to spend it on.”
But she kept going over their friends’ faces—even the Langleys joined the group. And Bonnie Mae instigated it—how that girl had changed.
Before she left, Bonnie Mae whispered, “Tom would be here, but the children need their sleep.”
Dottie whispered back, “Let us know how your plans develop, okay?”
If freckles could beam, Bonnie Mae’s did.
****
At the last gas station before Fort Madison, Del filled up his 1940 Oldsmobile. Sunlight saturated the back seat. Last night’s festivities left Dottie sleepy. It would have helped if she could follow the men’s conversation above the motor’s loud hum. She got in on the beginning, but then only snitches wafted her way.
“I heard they stopped production of this model at 200,000 for the war effort.”
“Sure am glad I took the plunge and bought early. This hydramatic drive i
s the real thing, even though it cost fifty-seven dollars extra. Besides, I like the four forward speeds and no clutch.”
“Did you know the Army used it on their tanks—both the M5 Stuart and the M24 Chaffee?”
“Nope, hadn’t heard that. I suppose the car manufacturers…” Del stopped the truck for a noisy cargo train yet continued talking, but the noise and watching the passing cars gave Dottie a sick feeling. She gave up on keeping track of their exchange and closed her eyes. The rumbling of the train was the last she remembered when she awoke. The railroad crossing had long ago disappeared, and Al and Del still chatted away in the front seat.
Now wide-awake, she touched her new dress. Yesterday, she studied Brenda’s racks down at the Wearwithall. Thankfully, Gladys stayed behind the counter, giving her time to get used to the idea of shopping again. Against the far wall, a pretty tulip print stood out to Dottie. She lifted it from the rack and turned it around.
“Go ahead—try it on if you’d like. It’s sanforized—pre-shrunk cotton, and only one percent shrinkage in the rayon. After you wash it, it’ll fit the same as it does today.” Gladys gestured toward a small door in the back right corner.
Dottie decided to take the plunge. In the dressing room, she quickly took off her dress and made the switch. The button-up front had a blousy effect, with plenty of room. Wide lapels flattened against her collarbones. Al enjoyed flowers, and it would require less ironing than plain cotton. Red and yellow tulips against a sky blue and white background appealed to her in this smudgy, gray-white season.
Guilt assailed her, since that beautiful new Sunday dress from Millie already graced her closet. But she couldn’t wear it all the way to California. And her other dresses had hung there for years, most of them threadbare or faded.
“It won’t hurt you to buy some nice clothes, Mom.” Millie pressed an envelope into Dottie’s palm when she hugged her good-bye.
“The dress and shoes are for Christmas—this is your wedding gift. Wish we could come, but our company Christmas party’s been planned for months, and I’m in charge.”
Dottie waited till she got home to open the letter, which turned out to be an expensive card—Millie sacrificed a quarter for it, and placed two ten-dollar bills inside.
In This Together Page 23