Her head nearly spins off as she looks between us. “Tell me what?”
“He’s set on going because May is going to be there.”
I growl, “Hank!”
Ma stares at me. “Well I never! All this fuss seemingly about your Father and it’s about a girl. Whom you claim not to have a care for.”
“Now that’s hardly accurate.”
“Did you or did you not deny fancying a girl named May just two nights previous?”
Pops calls from the sofa, raising his voice to reach over the long distance. “Why did I marry a lawyer?”
She laughs and walks over to see him better, heels tip-tapping on the tile. “Raymond, I’m glad you see talent when it sleeps right next to you. I should’ve been a lawyer, believe you me!”
“You know I don’t like lawyers.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” She lifts her eyebrows, and hurries back to Hank and I. “All of a sudden I feel like going to Mass.”
Hank swats my arm as he passes me for his hat. “You’re gonna miss me.”
“Not too sure about that.”
Ma snatches the keys from a hook by the door. “And I think I’ll drive, too. Hank, why don’t you sit in front with me? Your brother can sulk in the backseat.”
A grin breaks free. “You made a fine mess of everything, didn’t you?”
He opens the door for her. “On the contrary. I’m quite proud of my endeavors in every way, shape, and form. After you, Ma!” The wise guy starts to shut the door on me. I grab it before he gets the chance. His laugh follows him all the way to the car.
“Let’s have the top down, shall we, boys?”
“Hold on a minute there!” Pops calls out. We all look over and see him buttoning his suit jacket, a hat under his arm.
“Raymond, if you don’t slow down this minute, I’m driving off without you!” Lowering her voice she says, “Hank, climb in back. Make room for your Father.” Raising her voice again, she shouts, “And don’t even try to suggest driving. I can’t make you stay home, but I will not have your exertion pushed to the limit.”
“Yeah yeah yeah,“ he mutters.
“Would you care for the top up or down?”
“How long have we been married?”
“Down it is.”
Now four hats ride to Sunday Mass, and Hank and I exchange a look that says it all.
Our Pops won’t admit it, but he’s a softy when it comes to matters of the heart. Though they argue, love is always the foundation. I believe that while he almost left this world, his devotion to Ma is what tethered him to it.
When he overheard there’s a girl I’ve taken a liking to, curiosity got the best of him. I imagine he would’ve come along even if we were heading to the Protestant church, rather than the Catholic. And that’s saying a lot for Raymond Cocker, Irish American through and through.
21
JERALD
We arrive with a few minutes to spare, but those are swiped by friends concerned about his health. “Wondered if we’d have the pleasure of seeing you at Mass, Cocker!” “You look fit as a fiddle, Ray! How did you manage it?” “Good to see you up and about, Congressman!”
May is seated on the opposite side of the aisle from us, a few pews up, her parents standing together on her right. The priest’s procession grants her the opportunity to look back, and our eyes meet. Her pretty smile makes my day, and I give her a wink in return with none the wiser.
Folks have asked why the Cockers don’t sit up front. Pops never fails to explain that he’s a man of the people, not above the people.
Some time ago, Father Timothy requested his presence in the front pew as the Father believes it gives his congregation status, although he didn’t say exactly those words. However, the meaning was clear. Pops politely turned him down and the subject was never brought up again. Ma believes Father Timothy was personally affronted by the decline, and she often watches his manner toward us in search of evidence to substantiate such a claim.
During the hymns I find myself watching May, the gentle slope of her jawline gracefully moving with her singing. She’s so tiny, I have to crane my neck at times. Not an easy task when you’re not wanting to draw attention to yourself.
Ma whispers, “I take it the lovely blonde in yellow is May Kearns.”
Pops hushes her.
To my left, Hank stifles a laugh. I glance over with an expression that silently tells him what a pain in the neck he is. This just makes him laugh harder, which of course doesn’t sit well with Pops.
“Hush!”
My brother and I stare forward, grinning.
After Mass, the congregation gathers outside for social hour. This is our Mother’s favorite part, since she wasn’t aligned with the religious ceremony, being of another denomination and all. But she loves to chat with their friends, and since we were seated closer to the door we are in the sunlight before May’s family.
I’m strategic in positioning myself so I can see her walk outside. This affords me my first glimpse of Mr. Kearns’ limp, and the proud set of his jaw says it’s on his mind as they approach.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ma spots them and she lights up. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Kearns! So nice to meet you. I’m Frances Cocker, and this is my husband, Congressman Raymond Cocker.” She points a gloved hand at Pops. “Jerald tells us he had the pleasure of meeting you both. But I’m not sure if you know our youngest boy, Hank.”
My brother politely tips his fedora at nearly the same time as I do. “Sir. Ma’am. Pleasure.”
I agree, “Pleasure to see you both again.”
Pops shakes his hand, holding it in both of his for a second with a friendly clasp. “Good to meet you Mr. Kearns.”
“You can call me Fred.”
“And you can call me Ray!” He beams, “What a lovely family you have! How old are those children?”
“Those aren’t mine.”
May’s mother hastily explains, “We watch after the children of some of our neighbor friends. At any given day there will be at least one or two with us. Helen is a riveter, and sometimes has to stay near the Air Force Base. This was one of those times.”
Ma smiles, “I dare say I envy those women.”
“Your job is just as important, dear,” Pop reassures her.
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that, Raymond. I believe they’re history in the making. And what do I do but entertain?”
“You entertain people who are trying to influence history in the making, and your influence is felt. You’re a role model, and a good one at that.”
She waves a glove. “Fiddlesticks!”
Mrs. Kearns offers a quiet, “I too envy them, ma’am.”
“See?“ Ma asks Pops, before, “And please don’t call me ma’am. Call me Frances. I dare say I’ve never known our son to show an interest in any girl in town. So you must be very special parents. And I don’t believe I caught your name!”
The gratified smile on Mrs. Kearns is something else. Any sternness I’d observed in her is gone. “Why, thank you...Frances. You are very kind. I’m Dorothy, but everyone calls me Dottie.”
Mr Kearns frowns, “My apologies. I should’ve introduced…”
I interrupt to relieve his guilt, “Pops, Mr. Kearns here is a fan of the Navy.”
Pop beams, “I didn’t go into the service myself, but I sure was proud my son enlisted.” May and I look at each other, worried the truth might come out about when I did. “Were you in the service, Fred?”
“I’m afraid not,” he looks at his hat. “4F.”
Pops frowns. “I’m sorry to hear it. Very disappointed, were you?”
“More than I care to think about.”
“What was it, eyesight?”
He meets my father’s eyes, his somber. “I was born with a bum leg.”
Mrs. Kearns smiles, “Fred just got a raise at the steelyard. That leg doesn’t keep him down.”
Respect shines from my folks. They appreciate
her standing up for her husband. Pops offers a jovial, “If it makes you feel any better, I only two weeks back survived a heart attack, and there’s nothing I’d like more than to get my hands dirty working with men like you. I’ve been sitting on my keister for far too long — not just in recuperation but in offices before then — and that’s not healthy for a man, is it?”
Mr. Kearns nods from a place of understanding.
I’ve patiently waited for her to be introduced, so I take my chances here. “Ma. Pops. This is May. I’ve asked Mr. and Mrs. Kearns if I can take her for a picnic today.”
She steps forward with a shy smile, hoping for approval. “How do you do, Mr. and Mrs. Cocker.”
“Why child, aren’t you lovely? What a sweet face you have! And those eyes! I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a brighter blue in all my years. So intelligent, my word!”
May beams, cheeks rosier from surprise.
I lean in a little. “That’s effusive.”
May laughs, and Ma directs her confusion to me. “What’s effusive?”
“Inside joke, my apologies.”
“Well now, those aren’t polite!”
Pop says, “I believe he’s referring to the avalanche of compliments you just paid our young May, dear!”
“And she deserves every one!”
Mrs. Kearns raises her voice, “Margaret! Matthew! Don’t eat those sticks!”
The crowd is beginning to lighten, parishioners dispersing to enjoy their Sundays.
Pops looks at me. “Picnic, eh? Never saw a better day for it.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t think it all the way through. You see, I…” It suddenly occurs to me that I don’t want to give away the fact that they weren’t coming to church today, if it hadn’t been for me. “I was so used to our coming to church together, that I didn’t think to bring our second car.”
Hank grins, “And you forgot the basket!”
Happy to prove him wrong, I smirk, “I take it you didn’t look in the trunk. No, why would you? But if you had, you’d find all the fixins for a proper picnic stashed away.” I tap my temple.
“Perhaps we can get a ride from you, Fred?” Pop suggests, “If you have the room.”
Mr. Kearns frowns by the probability that he’ll have to decline. “I drive a pickup truck.”
Our folks look at each other, and Pop surprises Ma with the heartfelt confession, “I’ve always wanted to ride in the back of one of those!”
“Raymond!”
“Well, I have. It’s settled then.”
“But your heart!”
“Needs more fresh air, I agree with you!“ He looks like he’s lost thirty years, light shining from his eyes. “If there’s one thing that nearly dying has taught me, it’s to take advantage of fun when it’s handed to you.”
Hank grins, “I’ll sit in the back with you, Pops!”
Conceding defeat, Ma throws up a gloved hand. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sit in the front with you and your lovely wife.”
“It would be my honor, and please call me Fred.” He tips his hat.
With that settled, we walk to the parking lot, two seemingly miss-matched but happy families.
As they drive away, May and I wave goodbye.
It sure is a sight.
My old man waving from the bed of a black Ford pickup, and my kid brother happy to be along for the ride.
22
MAY
We’re tucked under a tree in the farmlands that surround Albany, the shade lowering the temperature by at least ten degrees. It’s a warm day, and Jerald removed his jacket, sitting back on the wool blanket in his slacks, suspenders and button up, wing tip shoes still on.
I didn’t wear a hat today, since I don’t own one that matches my yellow dress I love so much. But I do have yellow shoes, and that works just fine. Smoothing knots from the beautiful drive I smile, “Is this your Mother’s basket?”
He’s pulled so many things from it I’ve begun to believe it’s bottomless.
“No, I keep this for fancy occasions.”
My eyes widen. “Truly?”
“No.”
I laugh which makes him smile.
There are two plates, a pair of glasses carefully wrapped in a checkered tablecloth, silverware my mother would die for, a loaf of bread, sandwich meat, a block of cheese, and an entire cherry pie. He leaves the tablecloth inside, but places matching napkins next to a milk bottle.
“What’s in there?”
He holds up the yellow liquid. “That’s a shame.”
“What is?”
“Looks like the milk went bad while we were at church.”
I frown at it because that doesn’t seem plausible. I’ve seen curdled milk before and it’s never this color or consistency. Glancing to him I see the smile shining back from striking, green eyes. “Jerald Cocker! What is in that milk bottle?”
He laughs, “Apple juice.”
“You are a handful.”
Smirking to himself as he grabs a glass, Jerald says, “Perhaps I am.”
I tilt my head. “What did you mean by that?”
“By what? Here’s your juice.”
“Thank you.” I take a sip. “Mmm. Just now, when I said you were a handful, you had a look on your face like you were talking about something else.”
“Did I?” He places the cap back on the juice, and balances it against the basket. “What do you plan to do after high school?”
Jerald stretches out, propped on his elbow while he listens to me say, “Perhaps at first I’ll get a job. We could use the extra money, and studying has never really interested me.” His eyebrows lift up his hat. I reach over and pull it free to place it on my own head. “How do I look?”
“Like the sun found some shade at last.”
The way he said it took my breath. I whisper, “That was an awfully sweet thing to say.”
“I meant it.”
Feeling my heart thumping hard, I glance away from his piercing gaze. “I just might keep it then.”
“It won’t be the only thing I’ve left behind when I leave tomorrow.” My gaze drifts to meet his. “It won’t be the only thing I have left behind with you, when I shove off.”
“What else will you be leaving?”
He taps the center of his chest.
His expression is so serious I don’t know what to do with myself. There’s a heat that’s shown up in places I’ve only begun to think are important. I blink a few times, before my eyelashes drop to the juice. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’m squeezing this glass.
“Am I scaring you, May? I don’t wanna do that.”
What is this throbbing sensation between my legs? Whatever it is, I don’t want it to go away.
“You’re not scaring me. It isn’t that.”
He rises up onto his hand. “It isn’t?”
“No.”
“What is it then?”
“I don’t know,” I breathe.
Jerald leans over the food he laid out so nicely. I can see slivers of gold tucked into the pale green of his eyes. There’s blonde stubble poking out where he missed while shaving. But it’s his lips that have me mesmerized, and I can see his tongue just behind his bottom teeth.
Am I leaning closer?
Why yes, I am.
I think this just might be a moment I’ll never forget.
Our lips meet, the best feeling I have ever known. The world has washed away, taking its sounds and smells with it. I’m breathing in his skin, feeling goosebumps sing into mine as his arm wraps around me, so he can pull me closer. But the food has other plans, and suddenly we’re laughing as we smash the bread. In his haste to pull back, Jerald loses his balance and his elbow lands in the cherry pie, dead center.
I cover my mouth, and Jerald looks up, eyes shining. “Guess we better eat?”
“Here,” I laugh, dragging a napkin over his elbow, folding it for a clean spot and doing my best. “This will be a stain.”
“Worth it.” H
e pulls out a pocket knife and slices the cheddar. We tear pieces from the smashed loaf and layer it with the meat and cheese on top.
“Tell me a story from the war.” His expression goes dark, so I hasten to add, “It doesn’t have to be a bad story. How about something fun that happened on your submarine?”
That does the trick. “Well now, keeping to the subject of pets, I could tell you about Ferdinand.” He glances up. “That hat sure does suit you.” With my mouthful I smile. “Ferdinand is a cockroach.”
I gasp a muffled, “Oh!”
Pleased at giving me a shock, Jerald continues, “You see, Ferdinand lives in the bread drawer. Every time we go in, there he is waving at us. We tell him, Hey Ferdinand, throw up a slice, would ya?”
Covering my mouth, I laugh.
Jerald tears off another piece, placing meat and cheese on it while he continues, “One of my buddies, Todd, named him and well, the boys and I don’t know what life would be like without old Ferdinand!”
“There is only ever one cockroach?”
“That’s right. Ferdinand doesn’t like anyone moseying in on his territory.” Jerald takes a big bite.
“My father would get a kick out of that.” We eat in silence a while, staring at each other and breaking into smiles for no reason other than it’s unusual to be looking at someone for this long. “Jerald, is it too forward of me to say that I’m going to miss you?“
He loses the smile. “I hope you do. You will write to me, won’t you?”
“Can I? I wasn’t sure I could. How does one get mail on a submarine?”
He frowns, “You can’t. But it will be held at base for me. I can send letters to you only when I’m on land.”
“How often is that?”
“We dock every thirty days or so to restock supplies. But at war, we don’t always know where.”
“So you’ll send me letters from all over the world?”
“When I’m able, yes.”
The heaviness of his meaning is felt deep in my heart. “I will write to you, Jerald. I promise.”
“Just want to warn you, all mail has to be opened to prevent classified information from getting into enemy hands.”
May Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 24) Page 8