A Season of Dreams

by Gilbert, Morris

  Adam sat quietly beside his mother. He took his eyes from hers and looked down at the floor. The silence ran on and Lylah looked across the room at Jesse. They were both mystified and afraid for Adam, but finally he looked up and said, “If he had lived, Mom, would you have gotten married?”

  “I think we would,” Lylah said simply.

  Adam nodded. His face was pale and his lips twitched slightly. “Thank you for telling me. Why wouldn’t you tell me before?”

  “I was afraid for you, Adam. It may be difficult for you,” Lylah said quietly. “Even now many Americans have hard feelings toward Germans because of the war.”

  Adam then looked across at Jesse and said something Jesse would never forget. “You’ve been a good dad to me. I can never forget that.”

  Jesse swallowed. “Thank you, Adam. I’ve tried to be. Since I don’t have any sons of my own, I feel that God has given you to me—and I want you to know I will always be here for you.” He hesitated, then went on. “I studied the life of your father very carefully. Your mother is telling the truth. He was a man of honor and dignity, and you should be very proud of him. We don’t always agree with those we love, but love is bigger than a disagreement.”

  Adam stood up and said, “I think I’d like to go to bed. Good night, Mom.” His face was pale, but there was a steadiness in his eyes as he looked at her.

  Lylah stood up and embraced him. He pulled her head down slightly, although he was almost as tall as she, kissed her, then said, “Good night, Jesse.”

  He turned and left the room, and the two looked at each other. Jesse came over and put his arm around Lylah. They sat down, and he discovered that she was trembling. She began to weep, and he held her tightly.

  “I don’t know what he thinks—what’s in his mind! I should have told him years ago.”

  “Don’t talk like that. It will be all right,” Jesse said. He looked toward Adam’s room and shook his head. “I was proud of him. He’s got strength.” He looked at her and squeezed her. “Like his father, Lylah.”

  Lylah straightened up and brushed the tears away. She put her hand on his cheek and whispered, “What would I do without you, Jesse?”

  “You don’t have to do without me—and I don’t have to do without you. What we have to do now is stay very close to Adam. He’s going to need time to let this sink in—and it won’t be easy, as you said, but God will see us through it.”

  Jerry arrived at the house early the morning after the premier of The Pilot. When he entered, he found Bonnie in a robe, with her hair wrapped in a towel. She let out a screech and started to run away, but he moved forward and caught her by the arm.

  “What are you doing here? Go away—I’m not dressed yet!”

  “Well, get dressed,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. He reached up and touched the towel on top of her head. “You look as good as usual, don’t you?”

  “Get away from me, you beast! What do you mean coming here at this time of the morning?” He held her fast and she looked up. “Do you mean we’re going somewhere?”

  “Just go get dressed. Put on the best outfit you’ve got, like I have on.” He stepped back and held his hands out. He was wearing a pair of white slacks, a navy blue double-breasted coat, and a spotless white shirt. A new wine-colored tie was neatly tied and he’d had a haircut and a shave.

  Bonnie stared at him. “Why are you so dressed up this early?”

  “I’ll reveal that to you at the proper time. Go get dressed. And remember—wear your prettiest outfit.” He went and plumped down on a chair, crossed his legs and then his arms, and then stared at her.

  Bonnie blinked and fled to her room. She was mystified by his behavior. “What’s he up to?” she muttered. She looked at her wardrobe and said, “Where could he be taking me that we have to be dressed up this early in the morning?”

  Nevertheless, she made up her mind to do as he said. She put on a dress that she’d only worn once. Dresses looked softer and longer in the thirties than they had in the twenties, and women’s hairstyles were less severe, curled at the back of the head more gaily. As she brushed her own hair, Bonnie wondered what Jerry was thinking. The dress she chose suited her admirably. She slipped on a pair of new pumps, looked carefully at herself, picked up her purse, and left the bedroom.

  “Well, you look presentable,” Jerry said. “Come along.”

  Bonnie was amused at him. He had always had the ability to cheer her up and to amuse her. When he opened the door, she got into the car and sat back. He closed the door, walked around—whistling a song everybody else had stopped singing months ago—started the engine, and pulled away from the curb. She was determined to show no curiosity, but when he pulled up in front of the courthouse, she said, “What are we doing here?”

  “No questions—just come with me.”

  He jumped out of the car, went around, and opened the door. When she stepped out, he took her arm firmly and walked up the stairs. It was a busy place and he did not give her the chance to look around. Finally, they entered a set of double doors with frosted glass, but she did not have time to see what was written on them.

  A man was sitting behind a tall desk watching them carefully. “Yes, sir,” he said when Jerry came up, “what can I do for you folks?”

  “We’d like to apply for a marriage license.”

  Bonnie’s face turned pale. She felt her knees begin to tremble and she turned slowly to look at Jerry. “What–what did you say?” she whispered in a voice that was not steady.

  “Well, I’ve decided to marry you,” he said. He looked extremely handsome, and the elfin sense of humor in his eyes could not be hidden. “After we leave here, I’m going to take you to some romantic place and propose properly. But I thought we’d get this little bit of business over with. It was on the way, you know.”

  Bonnie turned furiously. “Jerry Stuart, you are insane!” She stalked out of the office and Jerry called out to the man, “We’ll be back! What time do you close?”

  “Five o’clock, and don’t think I’ll stay open late for you, brother. You’ve got just as much tact as an elephant!”

  Bonnie heard the remark and marched back to the car, her head high and her face flaming. She felt embarrassed, and when Jerry sat down beside her, she said through clenched teeth, “Take me home!”

  Jerry started the car, still whistling the same old tune. A few minutes later Bonnie said, “This isn’t the way home.”

  “Just one stop before we get there, Bonnie.”

  She soon recognized where he was going. He pulled up in front of the grove of trees that concealed the pond where she had found him one fateful night. Bonnie said, “I’m not getting out of this car.”

  Jerry looked at her but said nothing. He got out of the car, walked around, and opened the door. She clenched her teeth together and gritted out the words, “You have no sense of decency, Jerry Stuart! Take me home!” Then she gasped, for he had simply reached in and plucked her out. He was very strong, and though she resisted, he began walking her down the path that led to the woods.

  “Have you noticed how thick the pine cones are this year?” he remarked, ignoring the blows she struck at him. “I’m told that means a hard winter, but I don’t believe those old superstitions . . .”

  He chattered on until finally he stepped out to the side of the lake. The water was blue and clear, and white clouds were ruffling the skies as he said, “Why, here’s an old log. Suppose we sit down.” He took her over to it, and when she tried to pull away from him, he put his arms around her. Bonnie felt the strength of his body as he held her tight. She looked up to blaze out at him again, then she saw something in his face that made her stop. He was not smiling but was looking at her in a way that she’d never seen him look before.

  “Jerry, please take me home,” she whispered.

  “Bonnie, I love you and I want you to marry me,” he said quietly. There was a serene look on his face. After all the years of seeing his frantic attempts to
find peace, Bonnie recognized at once that this was the new Jerry talking. He leaned down and said, “I’m going to kiss you, but you can run away if you want to.”

  She did not run away, but lifted her face. And when he kissed her, it was like coming home. His lips were demanding, but no more so than her own. There was a hardness and strength in him that had not been there, and there was a desire for her that she sensed. She returned his embrace freely. When he lifted his head, he said, “Will you marry me, Bonnie?”

  “Yes,” she whispered quietly.

  Then he kissed her again, but she stepped back. “What do you mean taking me to that courthouse? That was an awful thing to do.”

  “I wanted you to understand that my intentions were serious,” he said. Then he laughed, grabbed her hands, and swung her around. “You should have seen your face! I’ll never forget it! For our fiftieth anniversary we’ll do the same—go in and ask for a wedding license. I’ll bet he’ll be just as shocked as he was this morning.”

  “You idiot!” she giggled. “I was never so embarrassed in my life!”

  “You probably will be again,” he said. He pulled her close to him. “I’ve been the worst fool on earth, but God’s done something in me now. I can learn to be a good husband.”

  “What about Cara?”

  He shook his head firmly. “That’s in the past. I’m sorry for her. She could’ve had a better life—but I’ve put that behind me, all right?”

  “All right, Jerry.” They walked around the lake, supremely happy, and laughing about everything.

  When they went home and broke the news, Lylah said to Jerry, “You don’t deserve her—but maybe she can make something out of you.”

  Jerry grinned at her, then winked at Jesse. “Now that we’re practically brothers-in-law,” he said, “I wonder if I could get a small loan, enough to get married on and go on a honeymoon?”

  “Didn’t take you long to become a sponger.” Jesse smiled. “All right, where will you go?”

  “I’ll let the bride decide.” But although the two talked about Hawaii, Sun Valley, and other exotic honeymoon spots, they did not come to a decision. That night at supper, they were interrupted by a phone call. They had been laughing and teasing Jerry until even he blushed. When the phone rang, Lylah said, “I’ll get it.” She’d gone out of the room and had stayed away for a long time. When she came back, Jesse took one look and said, “What is it, Lylah?” They all turned to her and immediately saw that something was wrong.

  “That was Amos on the phone,” she said. “There’s something wrong in Oklahoma. Pete’s going down the drain if we don’t get to him and help.”

  “Did Dad say what the trouble is?” Jerry asked quickly.

  “A big oil company’s freezing him out. They’re really under a state of siege.” Her brow wrinkled and she shook her head. “I don’t really understand it in this day and age, but they are actually having to fight them off with guns!”

  Adam had been listening carefully and at this his eyes flew open. He jumped up and ran to his mother. “We’ve got to go help Uncle Pete, Mom!”

  When she tried to pacify him, he said, “No, we’ve got to go! All of us Stuarts have to stick together. That’s what you always say.”

  A murmur went around the table and Jerry squelched it firmly. “That’s what I say, Adam!” He turned to Bonnie. “What about it? You want to get married before or after we have this gunfight with the bad gunslingers—the guys in the black hats?”

  “Let’s wait till after,” Bonnie said. “In the meanwhile you can give me shooting lessons.”

  They grew serious and the next day, after calls to Owen and Gavin, they were on a plane with Gavin headed to Oklahoma. Lylah put her arm around Adam. “I’m very proud of you, Adam—sticking up for your family like you did.”

  Adam patted her arm. “Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll help Uncle Pete, just see if we don’t.” He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Do you think my father would help if he were here?”

  Lylah hugged him very hard and whispered fiercely, “I’m sure he would, Adam. I’m very sure he would!”

  KINGMAN MEETS HIS MATCH

  After Maury had fixed breakfast for the children, she sat down and began to sort out the feed sacks. It had become part of her work to take the large assortment of these bags and try to make some sort of clothing out of them. Sheltered as she had been from the actual hardships of the depression, she discovered from this activity how important feed sacks were to poor people in 1932. As she sorted the sacks into different piles, she could hear the whining of the engine that sputtered in through the window. It was an irritating noise, but she had become accustomed to it, filtering it out of her mind completely.

  Some of the sacks were rather pretty, for the feed makers had discovered that one way to sell feed was to put the product into sacks with colorful designs. Holding up one of them, Maury admired the paisley pattern with a yellow background and red flowery design. The tiny pattern looked like red caterpillars bending over to begin spinning their cocoons. A fanciful thought came to her that it would be nice if those caterpillars could become butterflies and float off into the sky.

  “I’m getting to be quite a dreamer,” she muttered, a smile creasing her lips. Moving to the stove where a tub of water was boiling, she poured Fels-Naphtha soap into it, then put in several sacks that had the names of the companies stamped on them. She let them boil in the big tub, then rinsed them. The name still came through, so she repeated the action. She had done this before and knew that when the color was gone they could either be used plainly, or for the more fanciful, could be stamped with designs or embroidered for tablecloths or tea towels. Not much use for tea towels out on this place, she thought, straightening her back and looking across the room. The men were all gone, Leslie was lying down, and for once there was a sense of quietness in the air. After setting another batch of sacks to boil, she sat down for a moment in the chair, a cane-bottomed rocker, by the window. Picking up the Bible that lay beside it, she opened it, and it fell open to the Psalms. Her eyes fell on the Seventieth Psalm, which began, “Make haste, O God, to deliver me; make haste to help me, O LORD.” She studied that for a moment and thought wryly, That’s what we need, Lord—all of us here. If you don’t come through, I guess we’re all finished. She dropped her eyes to the second verse that said, “Let them be ashamed and confounded that seek after my soul: let them be turned backward, and put to confusion, that desire my hurt.”

  Somewhere outside the house, she could hear the children’s voices as they called to one another. Farther off she heard a dog barking mindlessly in a steady, rhythmic beat. He seemed to have no need to breathe, for the barking went on relentlessly. She thought about the verse she’d read. Lord, I don’t know how to pray against people, but I guess I’ll have to pray against the Kingman Oil Company. She read the next line: “Let them be turned back for a reward of their shame,” then the fourth verse, “Let all those that seek thee rejoice and be glad in thee: and let such as love thy salvation say continually, Let God be magnified.” For some time she remained still, thinking about the Scripture. It had become a habit of hers in the long days since the siege started to let the Scriptures filter through her mind.

  She’d always been a quick reader and had gone through college by devouring an enormous number of pages per day. When she had come to the Bible, at first she had tried to read it the same way. It had been frustrating, however, and she had found no satisfaction in it. Slowly she had discovered the art of meditation. Her pastor had said once, “It’s like a cow that has several stomachs. That cow goes out to pasture and begins to eat. She doesn’t chew anything much—just swallows it. It goes into one of her stomachs, then later on she lies down and somehow that unchewed grass comes up into a cud, so she chews it and chews it. That’s the way it should be with the Scripture. Put it in your heart, memorize it, and then on your bed or while you’re working—think on it.”

  Maury had found this to be good advice.
For the next hour, she did her work while thinking about the verse, “Let all those that seek thee rejoice and be glad in thee.” Naturally she wondered, How could we rejoice out here? We’re out of food, burning up in the heat, surrounded by enemies, and poor Pete can’t see how we ’re going to last another day—and I can’t either! She carefully removed the bleached feed sacks, took them outside, and hung them on the line, thinking, How can any of us rejoice when everything is going wrong? Still the Scripture came to her, “Let all those that seek thee rejoice and be glad in thee.” Then she remembered the last verse of the psalm. “But I am poor and needy: make haste unto me, O God: thou art my help and deliverer; O LORD, make no tarrying.” As that last verse floated through her mind, so clear that it seemed to appear before her eyes, a sense of wellbeing came to her. She looked around the shack and the pitiful conditions and then lifted her eyes out to where the tents of Kingman’s men ringed the homestead. She should have been depressed—but somehow the words of the psalm were soothing and encouraging. She whispered aloud, “O Lord, make no tarrying.” Then smiling and refreshed, she finished hanging out the sacks. When they were all on the line she walked over to where Ted was working on the rig.

  When he saw her coming, he smiled, saying, “Come to help drill for oil?”

  Maury returned his smile. She saw that he was tired, for he, like the other men, put in long hours just keeping the rig going. She looked at the shaft turning and screeching and said, “I never have understood how this thing works.”

  “Well,” Ted said, running his hand through his brown hair, “rotary rigs are pretty new. The old way was what they called a cable rig. It operated on a percussion principle. You know if you pick something up and hit with it often enough, eventually it will make a hole. That’s what a cable rig does—it just picks up a heavy pipe with a bit on the end and drops it in the same spot. Sooner or later, it’ll make a hole in the ground—even through a rock.”