On Zion's Hill

by Anna J. Small Roseboro

  But, if she goes to either place, she might miss Ken. He may decide to come back early. The only phones on the grounds are in the office. Staff there frown on folks using the phone for personal calls, so Angie didn’t even consider asking Ken to leave her a message telling her if or what time he’d be back. Anyway, why would be calling her anyway?

  So, what should she do for the couple hours or so before returning to relieve Stella in the ice cream stand? What can she do to keep her mind off working in the stand with Randy of the roaming hands?

  She wanders down towards to playground. Only the wind gently sways the swings. The little kids must be napping or having quiet time after lunch, so Angie foregoes a seat on the bench and chooses one of the swings. Grasping the chains, she toes herself back and basks in a nostalgic return to this childhood pastime. Words from the Grampoppa poem return to mind and she quotes more lines from that summer’s writing.

  After dinner, Grampoppa tells humorous anecdotes

  Of his first years as a pastor.

  She listens as though each detail is new to her.

  But even I know the story of that dinner invitation.

  After church one Sunday, one member said,

  “Rev’n Wi’yums, yawl gotta come and hab suppa wif us.

  Suppa is ready. Yawl won’t haf ta wait.”

  Dinner really was ready; already on the table.

  “Come on in,” she invited.

  “Sit right down,” she cajoled,

  Grabbing a soup spoon, flicking the flies

  From the fat, floating atop the now congealing soup.

  Gramamma smiles at the punch line; my husband laughs on schedule.

  “Husband!” Angie gulps. She drags her shoe. Stops the swing. Planting her feet in the dirt, she spurts, “There it is again! A husband in my poem. Not once, but twice! Like getting married is uppermost in my mind. One would think I’m not really committed to finishing college before getting married.”

  True, most of the girls her age at Angie’s church are engaged or already married and seem happy about it. But she doesn’t want to get entangled in a man that will distract her from reaching her goal. BA before MRS. “God, have you been trying to tell me something? Am I not to graduate first? Or am I simply writing fantasy fiction or prophetic poetry? Talking about stuff that might happen years from now?”

  Freaked out to be upset about the possibility of hearing from God through her writing, a notion antithetical to what she’d planned, agitated Angie cogitates. Would she really resist if God told her to quit college and get married? Angie drags her feet, flinging up a spray of dust, impetuously pushes up, abandons the swing, and tromps away.

  DEEP IN THOUGHT, Angie suddenly finds herself on the slightly trodden narrow path leading away from the playground. It’s a little used trail the teens take when they want to sneak down to town and can’t get a ride.

  Head hanging, ignoring the sweeping dry grass snagging her stockings, she does not see the small car slowly cresting the hill and about to turn onto the road leading through the gates to the campground parking lot. So deep is she in thought that the driver honks twice before Angie even notices it has stopped. She looks up and blinks, doubting her vision.

  It’s Ken! He’s come early. He must have skipped his library time. Or whatever chores he’d been doing. Wow! His dad lent him the car. In a nanosecond, all these thoughts shoot through Angie’s mind. Ken grins and pulls the car closer to her. He points to the opposite door. She nods, grins back, scrambles around to the passenger side and gets. It’s hot inside, but cool that she’s riding with Ken.

  “Hey, Ken! What’re you doing up here so early? I thought you had to work in the garden today. Didn’t you say your dad was using the car until this evening? It sure it hot out, isn’t it? I’m really pooped.”

  “What?”

  “Spent all morning cleaning the stand. She likes it spotless in there. Stella, you know. And Mr. Conley came by, too. He checks the place like a health inspector. Makes me nervous. Huh?”

  “Slow down, Angie. What’s going on? You look flustered. And you’re chirping like a magpie. Yes, I finished early. Yes, it’s hot. Yes, I obviously have the car. Want to go for a ride? I can turn around in the parking lot and we can head down to town. Have you had lunch?”

  “A ride? Sure. I ate already. I ate with my grandparents. Have you ever been up here on meatloaf day? It’s really good. I used to watch them cook.”

  “Sure, I’ve had their meatloaf. The same cooks are here for youth camp.” Ken replies softly in hopes that it will slow down Angie’s chatter.

  “The cooks really believe cooking is their spiritual gift. You ever seen anything about cooking in the list of spiritual gifts? I know I never have. Huh?” Angie pauses when she notices Ken’s questioning look.

  “Angie, what’s up with you today? You’re still rattling on. You’re not giving me time to think about your questions let alone time to answer them.

  “Oh, really?”

  “I’m glad you had lunch with your grandparents”.

  “Yeah, that was fun. We don’t have much time together up here with me working and all.”

  “Think I’ll get to meet them? You’ve told me so much about them, I bet I’d recognize them walking across the grounds. You lived with them a long time, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did. I lived with them when my Dad was in the service and again when my Mom was in the hospital. I tell you about that?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. And, Angie-girl slow down. You’re still talking a mile a minute and unloading lots on me.”

  “Oh. Really?” She tries to slow down. She looks around. “Hey. Where we going, Ken?”

  “We’re nearly there.”

  “There? Where?”

  “To the Veteran’s Park. We can get out and walk in the shade a while and maybe you’ll unwind enough to tell me what’s really got you all wound up. Okay?”

  “Sure, Ken, that’ll be fine. I’ve been wanting to get away from the grounds for a little while. You know there’s not much shade and privacy up there. What?”

  “Angieeeee.”

  “Huh?” She turns and realizes she’s babbling, again. “Well I guess you know all that ‘cause you stay up here during youth camp, don’t you?”

  Ken shakes his head and concentrates on finding a parking place in the shade.

  “Oh, this is really nice, Ken. A beautiful spot in the middle of a mill town. You know I never knew what a mill town was till you told me your family works there. I can’t believe how hot it must have been where your grandfather works.”

  “Yeah, he works at one of those open-hearth steel furnaces, really close to flaring flames.”

  “Wow! He must really be a strong man to put up with that. I know you say the pay is better, but that sounds really dangerous as well as hot. I can hardly stand to cook food in the oven in the summer.”

  “We’re here. Let’s get out a walk down that path.” He sits there for a moment. Now that the car has stopped moving, maybe Angie will stop talking. She doesn’t. So he offers, her a drink.

  “I have some cold water in this thermos. You want a little?” He reaches into the back and pulls out a slender silver Thermos bottle, sitting on top of a crumpled McDonald’s bag. He decided he couldn’t really afford Liz’s burgers after all.

  Angie looks out and around at the lovely grove of full-leafed trees. Even though she is a city girl, she does know these are old growth oak trees. She sits, just gazing, and then blinks when she realizes Ken is asking her if she’d like a drink.

  “Sure, a drink of water would be great. Thanks.” He hands her a squat orange Thermos cap of cool water. Angie sips. “Is this the Thermos you take up to the garden when you’re working up there? Did you stop at that spring and fill it before coming up here?”

  “No I stopped at one of those road-side springs.”

  “That’s funny. I can’t imagine a spring that runs clear, clean and cool in this kind of weather. It’s o
ne of those miracles of nature, isn’t it? Um, Ken, can I have a little more?” He pours a little more.

  Finishing her drink, she hands the cap back to Ken. He wipes it with a handkerchief and screws the cap back on the Thermos before exiting his side of the car and walking around to open her door.

  “What a gentleman you are, Ken. Thanks.” Angie emerges decorously and accepts his outstretched hand. He doesn’t let go as he guides her aside to close and lock the car door. He keeps her hand in his and leads her to the shade of the wide gravel trail. They walk slowly not talking, just letting the natural serenity soothe their spirits.

  Ken suddenly realizes he is still holding Angie’s hand, wonders why he hadn’t let go of her hand when she was safely out of the car, but decides not to do so now. Somehow it seems right to be holding hands with Angie.

  They walk in silence for ten minutes or so. Ken is calming down, too, releasing the tension from the morning. He’d been nearly as tight as Angie when he stopped and picked her up. Her verbacious spate hadn’t helped him relax one bit. And she still hasn’t told him why she appeared so angry with him yesterday evening.

  Angie seems glad to see him. He can’t imagine what could have morphed her into the campground snow queen. Nothing to do with him. Well, it looks like they’ll be able to enjoy these final two days of the meetings. She’s okay today.

  Just around the bend, they reach one of the benches the members of the local VFW post installed along the footpath. Local World War I veterans take after dinner walks along this tree-lined trail and few of the older ex-soldiers can still make the whole two mile stroll without short breaks.

  A few years ago, after lightening felled one of the larger oaks, the guys harvested the wood and made these special benches. One, apparently quite a, spent an entire winter shaping the seats to have curved slat backs and spindle arm rests. Then, he and his drinking buddies sanded the benches until they were silky smooth. They still are. No catching your clothes in splinters on these finely crafted VFW benches.

  Angie and Ken are tranquil, not talking, comfortably seated, content to be together. Birds chirp on a low branch to their left and a pair of barely camouflaged white-throated sparrows scratch around the ground at the base of the oak nearby.

  Through the air, off to the right comes the somber whoo-whooing of a distant dove. Its high pitch coo belies the mourning dove’s name. Below, to the left, a bronze-striped chipmunk skitters through the grass and into some taller weeds. From above, slants a lemony yellow beam, spotlighting the small patch of red flowers straining toward the sun for the short time it shines through the narrow slit in the branches overhead.

  Ken turns, still holding her hand and gently queries, “Angie. Didn’t you rest well last night? You’re really wound up today.”

  Surprised and pleased that Ken is so attuned to her, Angie shakes her head, but doesn’t reply.

  “I could see you were busy last night and you say you cleaned the stand this morning. Did Stella keep the stand open extra late?”

  “Yeah, it really was late. The line seemed to go on for a marathon mile. Thankfully, we only ran out of one flavor so most everybody got their first choice.”

  “That’s good. I’m sure Stella was glad to have your help and company.”

  “She was, but I was worried about being out that late. My grandparents don’t sleep till I come in. But I couldn’t leave Stella there by herself.”

  “They probably understood. They saw the crowds, too.”

  Angie nods. “Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, by the time I got in, I was too tired to be quiet. They didn’t say anything, but I could hear them tossing a bit. They finally settled down once I got into bed myself.”

  “But you say you didn’t get much rest.”

  “Yeah. It took me a while to get to sleep. What about you? It must be awfully hot in that tight trailer. From what you said about the size, I can’t imagine you get much circulation in there?”

  “Well, luckily for me, there is a small window in the kitchen where I sleep and my step-dad situated the trailer so it gets a nice cross breeze…when there is one. I slept all right, all things considered. I was up pretty late, too, trying to get Thia settled.”

  “Thia? What was the matter with her? She anxious about starting at the new secretarial school? Shorthand’s pretty scary. I took a shorthand course in high school to help with note taking in college. Doesn’t help much, though. What’s with Thia?

  “Well, she was really upset when her boyfriend, Melvin, didn’t meet us outside the tabernacle for service last night. It was that and the fact that she twisted her ankle in those high-heeled shoes she insisted on wearing.

  “She’s the youngest and when she gets upset, she still gets clingy. You probably saw her hanging on my shoulder when we were sitting on the bench after service last night. I was hoping you’d get a break so I could introduce you to her.”

  “Your sister? That’s who was with you last night?” The Lady in Navy is Thia, his sister!”

  “Yeah, Thia, my baby sister. She was supposed to come up with Melvin. That’s why she got all dressed up. He was going to pick her up early so they could get to the grounds and find a good parking spot. She likes to wear high heels even though there are no paved sidewalks on Zion’s Hill. But when he didn’t get there by the time I left, so as not to waste her outfit and all the time it took her to get all gussied up, she rode up with me.”

  His sister! Angie mentally smacks herself for being so quick to jump to conclusions. She thought the Lady is Navy was his girlfriend. Why shouldn’t she? She’d never met Thia. And, she and Ken certainly spent a lot of time in each other’s personal space. What else was she to think?

  “Thia thought for sure Melvin would meet us there. He never showed, so Thia was really ticked. After the service, she stomped out of the back door. Stepping off one of those little cement pads, she twisted her ankle.”

  Angie wasn’t really listening. In order to rationalize her jealousy, Angie had applied what she’d learned in her psych class about personal space. She’d seen how close Ken and Thia stood outside the tabernacle waiting for the usher to seat them. And then, during service, they shared a Bible and everything. That proved they were familiar with one another and maybe even a couple! Oh so she thought based on her Psych class last year.

  Angie’d left early in a huff, and because the customer lines had been so long, she’d never gotten a chance to meet Thia. Once she spotted them, Angie just kept her eyes on the two of them sitting close together on the bench. People have to be pretty close to be that intimate in public. A couple, right?

  So, it was a twisted ankle. That’s why he had his arm around her waist when they left. He must have been helping her balance as they walked back down to the car. She wasn’t “the other woman”! Just his sister. Ha!

  “Thia’s your sister. I thought….” Angie can’t say it. She doesn’t want Ken to think she is jealous or anything. Well, she isn’t really jealous. There’s nothing to be jealous about. They are not a couple, going steady or anything. They’ve only known each other for a few days.

  “You thought what?” Ken probes. Last night, he’d had time to think of little more than getting Princess Thia home. He shivers remembering Angie’s glacier stares, cold enough to freeze steam into ice cubes! Now, slow on the uptake, it finally dawns on Ken that Angie thought Thia was his girlfriend. It makes sense, now.

  He recalls the way they’d sat on the bench, almost cuddling while Thia complained about sitting there so long just to meet some girl Ken had only known for a couple of days. Since Melvin hadn’t come and she’d twisted her ankle, she couldn’t understand why big brother Ken wouldn’t take her home, at once.

  She had tried tears and leaning on his shoulder. That used to work. But not anymore. Fed up with her whining, the lateness of the hour and eventually the cold stares from Angie convinced Ken to take Thia home right then and there.

  Today, working up in the garden, Ken did not realize how such actions m
ay have suggested to Angie that Thia was his girlfriend and not his baby sister. Ah. Now he gets it. That’s why Angie was all aflutter when he picked her up just now. What a relief!

  Ken looks at his watch. He had promised Angie he would try to get up to the grounds as early as possible so they could have a little time before she had to be back to work. It’s nearly four o’clock.

  “What time do you have to be back to work, Angie?”

  “I don’t have to be back till five today. I’m not in a hurry. He’s going to be working at the stand with us this weekend, so he’ll take the early shift.”

  “He? Who?”

  “Stella’s son”

  “Which one?”

  “Oh, it’s Randy. He’s home this week and told his mom he’d help.”

  “Randy!” Ken exclaims, vexed.

  “It’ll be awfully crowded in there though. You know how big he is. He’ll be bumping into me all day,” she grouses.

  “Yes, I remember Randy. I saw him town yesterday. I wondered if he’d be working up on the Hill this week.”

  “Well, you know, he used to help out. He does know the business. Stella likes it because he’s good with the customers, too. Especially the young tweenie girls,” Angie interjects, sarcastically.

  “Don’t I know it,” Ken remarks, but Angie keeps talking as though she hasn’t heard.

  “A couple years ago, when Randy worked the weekend, the gigglers became our most steady customers. Of course, they didn’t spend much at a time. But, sometimes they did come back twice a day, always during the hours he was working. It’ll be so tight in there with him and Stella during rush hours. I’m not looking forward to it.”

  “Well, at least his mom will be in there with you. Randy won’t get too much in your case if she’s there, right?” Ken feels bile rising and envisions the green tinge of jealousy oozing through the air.