“It will be fine,” Louella assured him.
When he at least heard the cheering from the ground below, Homer felt safe enough to look. The men were waving their arms and some clapped. Everyone wore looks of joy and pride. They were finished. The depot had been completely renovated. They only had two trains that stopped at their station on a daily basis now, but Furnace Mountain would have the most beautiful train station in a seven-county radius again.
“We did it, Lou,” Homer cried. He threw his arm around her shoulders and grinned. When he heard a sniffle, he looked down upon her. “Are you crying?”
“Maybe,” she shrugged. “Oh hell. Probably. Don’t you dare tell anyone.”
“Why?” he asked. “This is the best thing I’ve had on you in years.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
SAM LOOKED AROUND THE FESTIVAL with pride. He was partly responsible for this–him and his letter. His mother, beautiful with her hair softly curled around her shoulders and a fancy dress swinging around her calves, stood beside him. He held her hand, not for her sake but for his own. The lights, the lanterns, the booths with their colorful streamers and decorations…it looked like a fairyland and he didn’t know where to look first. He’d helped set up but it all looked so much better at night.
“Thanks for coming Mama,” he said, squeezing her hand. She looked down upon him and smiled.
“You done real good baby,” she said, squeezing him back.
They had just come from the train depot where Ruth had walked around the building, ooohhing and ahhhhing appropriately. She remembered it from when it was in its prime, back when people used to sit there all day watching the trains come and go. Ruth said she thought it looked better now.
Homer had taken her picture in front of it. She’d made a silly pose, putting her arms up in the air and sticking her hip out with a wide grin. They’d all laughed. Then Homer had asked Sam to get in the picture, too, and they’d made a silly pose together–just him and his mama.
“Hey Sam!” Linden McIntosh came running up to them, out of breath and with a red face. Sweat dripped down his chin. Henry Stocker was right on his heels.
“Hello!” Sam said back. He was proud for his friends to see him with his mama tonight. He bet they wished they had one that was so beautiful and fun.
“You wanna go do the three-legged race with us?” Linden panted. “I need you on my team!”
Sam was torn. He didn’t want to leave Ruth, but the idea of winning a prize sure did sound like fun. And he’d been itching to try some of the games.
“Go,” Ruth commanded him. “Scat! Go have fun! I’ll see you after the dance!”
Sam released her hand, stood on his tiptoes, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I love you, Mama,” he said. She ruffled his hair and kissed his nose.
“Let’s go!” he cried to the other boys. “I’m on a night on the horse and we’re off to save the day!”
Together, the three of them ran through the crowd as though chased by bad guys, Sam whooping and hollering as he waved his imaginary sword in the air.
***
“Look at you!” Ruth turned when she saw Homer walking towards her. He thought she might have just been the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. When she saw the big swirl of cotton candy in his hand, her eyes lit up like a child’s.
“For me?” she asked shyly.
“For you,” he repeated, handing it to her with a flourish.
She took a dainty bite, trying not to get any on her face. When she didn’t succeed, however, she simply reached into the puff of candy and grabbed a small handful. “Messy,” she said through a full mouth, “but yummy!”
“Where’s the boy?” Homer looked around in disappointment. He’d also bought Sam a cone of peanuts because he knew they were his favorite. He was hoping he’d still be there.
“Off with his buddies, saving the world from bad guys,” she smiled.
“Ah, boy things. I remember,” Homer said.
“Do you have things you need to do tonight?” Ruth asked. “Because I can wander around and…”
Homer reached over and touched her shoulder. “I am not here on official business tonight,” he told her. “I am here with you, to enjoy myself, and maybe even to dance later. If you will.”
Ruth blushed prettily. “I haven’t danced in years.”
“Neither have I. We have to start somewhere, don’t we?”
And though he saw a flicker of panic in her eyes, she reached up and touched the hand that still held onto her shoulder. “Yes,” she said, “we do.”
***
“Let’s go for a walk,” Louella ordered Marianne. Marianne, who’d been doling out the sweet treats to the winners of the cake walk, looked up in surprise.
“Oh, I can’t. I’m working this and–”
“Nonsense,” Louella barked. “Here’s your replacement. Nancy!”
Nancy Lewis stepped forward, looking brow beaten and startled, and took the bowl of numbers from Marianne’s hands. “I don’t mind, really,” she reassured her, but Marianne wasn’t sure if Nancy meant it or if she was just afraid of getting on Louella’s bad side.
Once they’d walked away from the booth, Louella sighed. “Don’t worry about her. It’s good for her to do some community work. That woman sits up in her white tower all day, looking down on the little people. She needs to get off that high horse.”
“Is that Nicholas’ mother?” Marianne asked. She thought she could see a resemblance.
“Yes, that’s her. Now you probably understand the whole picture.”
Yes, Marianne thought it made some things clearer.
The park looked beautiful. She’d tried to count but there were just too many people. She thought there might be hundreds. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves. Marianne saw laughter, good-natured foolishness, and even sweet moments.
“Well, look at that,” Louella said, pointing.
To Marianne’s surprise, Homer stood off to the side with Ruth Walters. A big stick of pink cotton candy was between them; they were leaning in at the same time, giggling while they nipped at small tufts of the candy together. Both wore big smilers. Ruth was simply stunning. Her hair was cut to her shoulders and laid in flattering curls that made her appear ten years younger. Her red dress was tight in the bodice and flared at the waist. She wore makeup tonight and with her darkened eyes and lips she looked as pretty as a movie star.
Ruth must have felt Marianne looking at her, for she paused. Marianne was going to look away but then Ruth raised her hand and gave her a tentative wave. Marianne returned it along with a simple nod of her head.
“She didn’t mean whatever it was she did,” Louella told her.
“I know,” Marianne sighed after they’d walked away.
“You’ll forgive her. You have a soft heart.”
“As do you,” Marianne pointed out. “Don’t think some of us don’t know about those train tickets to Lexington you sent the Maynards with. Or those sacks of food and clothes.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louella scoffed.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Marianne laughed.
“I felt sorry for the little one,” Louella shrugged. “I didn’t want to send them away without hope.”
“You’re a good person, Louella.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
***
Nicholas hadn’t seen Alice since the 4th of July. He’d been afraid to find her, to seek her out. He thought she must still be angry with him, for she hadn’t looked for him either. He was still confused. He couldn’t fix whatever it was he’d done because he didn’t know what injustice had been caused on his part.
He’d walked around the festival with his father for an hour. They’d arrived later than they’d intended because the two of them had been in Lexington all day. He’d attended a business meeting with his father, a meeting he’d sworn was important to the newspaper. Excitement was building for the president’s arrival and his f
ather’s paper was at the hub of it. If he played his cards right, he’d get a story that nobody else in the state had privy to.
Nicholas found his mother right away. She was monitoring the cakewalk and seemed to be having the time of her life.
“Do you want me to find someone else to fill in for you?” his father asked.
But she had laughed and shook her head. “No, now scoot! I am loving this!” Just then, the music stopped and shrieks of delight sounded from the circle. His mother’s face alit with happiness as she called out a new number, as joyous as though she’d just announced the second coming of Christ.
“I think your mother has found her calling,” his father had whispered to him and they’d shared a laugh.
Soon, however, his father had run into friends so they’d separated. “Go on Nicholas,” he’d encouraged him. “Go find some of your friends, too.”
Nicholas hadn’t the heart to tell him that he didn’t really have any–only Alice, and she wasn’t speaking to him.
Over by the depot they’d set up a dance floor. A band was playing now and couples moved around the floor with their arms wrapped around one another, all smiles and swirls of fabric. The lanterns strung up around them glowed in the night sky; they appeared to be tiny moons balancing on the ocean.
He watched for a moment, thinking at how pleasant the music and sounds of laughter mixed together were, but then he grew sad and tired. He wished he had someone to share it with.
Nicholas turned and started to walk away when something caught his attention. When he looked back, he saw her.
Alice wore a light blue dress covered with small white roses. Her blonde hair was tied back in a blue satin ribbon. He didn’t know how he’d missed her the first time–she was the prettiest girl on the dance floor.
And she was dancing with her father.
The song was fast paced. Though her father’s limbs were stiff and rusty, and his smile tentative, she gripped his hands and threw her head back as she laughed. Together, they spun around and around in time to the music, her feet barely touching the ground. The band played on, growing louder with each passing second. Nicholas smiled just watching her.
Soon, others were stepping back off the floor, their eyes unable to leave Alice and her father. His movements were more fluid now and as he twirled her around the floor, there was no other couple that demanded such attention. Nicholas watched as her dress whipped around her calves, the hem lifting just enough to see the smooth, creamy skin above her knees. Her right sleeve began to fall from her shoulder, revealing the nude strap of her slip. Nicholas found his mouth watering.
With the final notes of the song, she dipped her head back and the blue ribbon she wore in her hair came unknotted. It soared through the air just as a slight breeze whispered across the dance floor. Nicholas watched as the ribbon was lifted high and fluttered right towards him, a sliver of electric satin against the dusky sky. As it neared, he could see strands of her silvery-blonde hair wrapped around it. The ribbon dipped for just a second, almost in hand’s reach as he raised on his tiptoes to grasp it, but then it blew upwards again. Up, up, and up it sailed –as high as the birds. Nicholas waited for it to return so that he could reach it, but it disappeared from sight, gone forever.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“ARE YOU HUNGRY, DADDY?” Alice stood at the stove whistling along with a song she’d heard the night before. She hadn’t gotten much sleep but, for some reason, she felt completely rested.
It had been the best night of her life.
Robert entered the room without a sound. He took his chair at the table and didn’t say anything while she doled out biscuits and gravy.
“Are you okay?” She held her breath and braced herself, waiting for an outburst of a whiff of liquor on his breath, but he merely smiled. It was such a strange act to him that it came off as more of a sneer; he followed it with a laugh to soften his countenance.
“Never been better,” he replied gruffly, and she thought he might be telling the truth.
Her father had not had a drink, as far as she knew, for weeks. The front porch was fixed, the floors supported, and he’d even hung up the old swing for her out under the weeping willow tree. He’d chopped more than enough wood for the winter.
And he’d been doing something in the barn that he wouldn’t let her near.
Alice had been as surprised as anyone when Robert had agreed to attend the Gingerroot Festival with her.
“Daddy?” He’d been sitting in his old chair against the window in their front room. He’d had a book in his hands; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him reading. Not since her mother died, she reckoned. It was late afternoon and the festival was starting in an hour. Alice had paid special attention to her clothing. She’d washed her hair and brushed it until it was smooth and soft. Her dress had been her mother’s. She hadn’t altered it at all, just ironed it.
As she’d stood there in the doorway, watching her father, she’d thought he’d almost looked soft. The edges had worn down over the past few weeks.
“Daddy?” she’d asked again.
When he looked up, she knew he’d been surprised. She knew why, too. She looked just like her mother.
“I’m going to the festival,” she’d said a little shyly. “I was hoping you might go with me. See some of the work we done. You don’t have to go if you don’t want, but you could walk with me.”
To her astonishment, after several minutes of silence, he’d agreed.
She was afraid he was going to back out the entire way there. He’d stayed by her side, however, as she gave him the tour of the depot and platform and all the things they’d done downtown. She’d avoided his old storefront with him, out of respect, but he’d clearly enjoyed seeing the rest.
“Looks real good,” he’d told the foreman. Although, to Chester Pyle, he’d commented on the banister.
“I can fix that up right if you want,” he’d said kind of shyly, his face as red as an apple.
Chester had patted him heartily on the back. “I’ve been hoping that someone with your talent would come down here and take a look around. Whip us into shape.”
Robert had preened for the rest of the night.
“I think things are going to be okay now,” Alice said when they were finished eating. “I believe that factory will come and we’ll start getting better. Maybe even get your store back.”
“Humph,” Robert grunted. She instantly felt sorry for bringing up his shop. And they’d been doing so well!
Still, she was stubborn. “And Daddy, I’m real proud of you.”
Robert looked up at his daughter and his eyes clouded over. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something that wasn’t very nice, but then he’d shook his head. “Got something I want to show you.”
Alice laid down her dishrag and followed him out the door. She had to jog to catch up with him; he took three steps to her one, but soon they were at the barn.
Before opening the door, however, Robert paused and turned to her. “Been thinking about you, girl,” he said gruffly. “About how I ain’t been doing you right. About how I done your mama wrong, too. Can’t change the past. Can’t do a whole lot about the future. I can fix the now, though.”
When he slid open the barn doors and revealed what awaited inside, Alice almost dropped to her knees in shock. It was the wheelchair for the president–a beautifully constructed, and hand-carved, wheelchair fit enough for any leader. Alice walked around it, gently letting her fingers trail along the lines. The wood gleamed with wax and polish; the curves were as soft as butter. It was a real work of art, and her own father had done it.
“The metal, the wheels?” She couldn’t even form her sentences properly.
“I got my ways,” he replied. “Sold some things I had. Some old things.”
But not her mother’s pearls.
“And here,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “These were your mama’s. Was planning on giving them to y
ou at your wedding but could be you won’t get married and that’s just fine with me.”
Alice reached out and took the strand of pearls in her shaking hand. Her mother’s. She’d never even seen them. She clutched them now to her chest and cried–big, fat tears that didn’t make any noise but soaked her dress.
“I’m proud of you girl,” Robert said as he clumsily patted her. “Real proud.”
Alice sniffed and raised her head high. “Let’s get this downtown,” she said, pointing to the chair. “I want to show everyone what you done.”
***
“I came down to get a good shot of the presidential chair.” Nicholas’ father stood before Alice in the community room; his camera was slung around his neck.
Since Marianne no longer had a place for her students to gather to work on their projects, they had taken over the meeting room, now a community room left over by the railroad company. Louella had made sure that a small desk had been brought in for Alice as well. She, of course, was just as responsible for the activities that had gone on and were about to transpire.
“President Roosevelt comes in three days,” she reminded Mr. Lewis. “Hardly seems right, doesn’t it?”
“The time has certainly flown by,” he agreed. “What are the plans?”
“We’re getting everything set out tomorrow. Did you realize people are coming in tonight? The boarding house is full,” she said in wonderment.
“I heard,” he replied, keeping his face impassive.
“Lily didn’t have enough sheets and blankets for all her guests. I went down to the church, though, and told everyone at the Bible study meeting about the predicament. By this morning I had a whole stack of linens. Isn’t it wonderful how everyone has come together?”
“Yes, it is.”
And it was. They'd thought they had nothing, and they’d been wrong. They had everything; they just had to find it.
Furnace Mountain: or The Day President Roosevelt Came to Town Page 21