One day he was someone’s son, and the next day he belonged to no one. Adrift. When you share DNA with folks and none of them agree to take you in, it does a number on your identity, and you never really get over it. You spend a lot of your life wondering what you did so wrong that no one wanted you. You forget to ponder what was wrong with them.
No one adopts nine-year-olds. Young infants or toddlers, yes. Fourth graders, no. He eventually lost count of the number of foster homes. The majority were safe and clean. Others were perhaps clean, but the walls kept dirty secrets, the kind that still brought him terrors in the night. Clean seemed to be the one common denominator between the decent places and the ones that scarred him. He wished the social workers assigned to his case had lived within the system. If they had, they might have looked past the pine-scented, freshly mopped floors and seen evidence of unspoken things that happened when the doors were closed and the television volume was turned up as high as it could go.
Changing foster homes also meant he frequently changed schools. He lost track of how many times he entered a brand-new classroom to see the teacher give him the once over. By the time he was in his seventh new school, he realized he needed to choose his destiny. He could be known as a bully, angry at the entire world, or he could be a wallflower no one seemed to notice. Life was already hard enough, so he chose the latter and spent the rest of his adolescence following the rules, focused on being a nobody. Neither took much effort. They seemed to go hand in hand.
The typical events that consume children’s thoughts and energy—birthday parties, Christmas wish lists, try-outs, sleepovers, and summer camps were completely off limits to William. Instead, he became a reader of anything and everything he could get his hands on. He read cereal boxes and owner’s manuals and any book, magazine, or newspaper he could find, regardless of the topic. Reading allowed him to explore places and events he couldn’t even pronounce or possibly find on a map. It was his one escape, and it was a healthy one. The alternatives were not.
After being discharged from the system at age eighteen, he worked two jobs to save enough money to attend trucking school. He figured a big rig would allow him to travel and see the kinds of places he’d always read about.
He was accustomed to his solitary life. There were no surprises. He drove his routes, delivered the freight on time without incident or accident, and came back to his home alone. His was the most meticulously maintained house on the street. The grass was mowed each week. The tomato plants were fertilized the first week of each month in the summer. He flew an American flag by his front door 365 days a year, not just on patriotic holidays. He even surprised himself each year as he eagerly anticipated the chore of hanging Christmas lights along his roofline. An outsider would assume the family who lived there had an Ozzie and Harriet kind of life. Trouble was, there never had been a Harriet.
William had every tangible possession he wanted at this stage in his life. As an adolescent, feeling very much alone, he always assumed he’d be happy if he just had stuff to call his very own. He used to envision one day having a house full of things with his name written on the bottom of everything with a permanent marker. Permanent was the part he wished for the most. Even now, at age thirty-eight, with all the possessions he could ever want, the loneliness surrounded him. It crept into his life the day his mother died, and he held onto it and drug it around like a bucket of cement.
But now, incredibly, he found he was more than willing, actually eager, to trade routes with another trucker to ensure he was going to make this delivery to Mrs. Katherine McGregor in Kingston. Wait, he wondered to himself, McGregor is her last name. What did I read on the website about that name? I wonder if she’s related to the family who had the big mansion mentioned on the website. Too tired to look, he drifted off to sleep, knowing he had a long route beginning early in the morning.
Driving the route to Kingston allowed him ample time to wonder what it was about the woman that made him respond so uncharacteristically, as though he couldn’t resist her magnetic pull.
As promised, William made his obligatory call to alert his customer of his estimated time of arrival. He expected to arrive at his destination within the next forty minutes.
“I’m so pleased to hear your voice, William. I’m here waiting, and I’m eager to put a face to this strong voice you have. Be careful, son, and I’ll see you soon. Goodbye.”
He managed to get in a quick goodbye before the line went dead. Funny she’d said that about his voice when he had been thinking the same about hers. He had a nose for determining the goodness of a person within a minute or two of meeting them, and often it was the voice that gave it away. He could detect phoniness in a voice faster than a metal detector hovering over a land mine. She was probably in the grandmother stage of her life, and he envisioned someone a tad plump with a cardigan resting around her shoulders and glasses on a chain. Hair would be gray and shoes would be practical and possibly she would smell of old lady lilac-scented hand lotion.
He gave himself a good glance in the rig’s rearview mirror. Clean-shaven and a wrinkle-free shirt. Not bad. Thankful his short crew cut had recently been trimmed, he popped in a piece of gum to freshen his breath, hoping to cut the aroma of barbecued chips he had been enjoying during the last leg of the journey.
Pleasantly surprised at what he saw of Kingston, he entered from the north end of town and strategically maneuvered his rig through the town’s square. The GPS indicated St. Thomas Episcopal Church was just one block east, and he noticed a couple of small directional signs along the route indicating he was on the right path.
Even from a block away he knew he’d found his destination. Not from the posted sign in front of the church but from the welcoming crowd of four standing at the curb. A woman waving frantically with a cleric-collared minister standing to her right. To her left stood a timeworn woman of color standing erect and dignified supported with a walking stick. Next to her was a man with both hands shoved in his pockets, possibly the first woman’s grown son. William nodded his head and gave a simple wave as he began to manipulate the tight turn. In all his years of driving cargo, he had never had a welcoming committee. It brought a smile to his face and on impulse he gave the horn a quick blast, surprising even himself, which produced an eruption of laughter and cheers from the eager foursome.
Opening the door to his cab, he looked down and realized his greeters had hastily moved as one ensemble right outside his cab and were looking up at him with great anticipation.
Suddenly everyone began speaking at once. The only silent one was Katherine. She stared directly into William’s eyes with a broad, welcoming smile. She was not at all like he had predicted. Her slender body with her blue eyes and hint of grey in her hair were the opposite of what he expected for her age, and he wondered if those good looks had worked to her advantage over the years. He quietly reached up and removed his cap, offered his hand and said, “You must be Mrs. McGregor.”
“Katherine, please,” she said as she brushed away his outstretched hand and reached up to give him a welcoming hug. Unaccustomed, William responded with the warmth of a robot.
There was a swarm of activity over the next couple of hours, making a beehive look lethargic. The men of the church unloaded and opened the crates as the ever-growing gathering of church members uttered a collective gasp each time a new portion of the nativity was revealed.
William was intrigued by it all, but it was the trio of Katherine, Lily Mae, and Sam that fascinated him the most. Lily Mae bossed everyone present, no matter the age or gender, using her cane as an extension of her pointer finger and everyone seemed to expect it out of the old woman who looked like she’d already seen a century of life. Katherine knew everyone and he sensed a comfortable feeling about her within those walls. He watched her from the opposite side of the room and estimated she hugged at least a hundred people that evening. It seemed to be something she did well and freq
uently. He envied that. Sam didn’t speak much, but he was quick to do whatever anyone asked of him. On two occasions William observed Sam leave his task and check on Katherine, making sure she was warm enough and not too tired. He guessed Sam was her dutiful son, and he wondered if Sam knew how lucky he was to have such a title bestowed on him.
It was just dinner he agreed to. He had no idea it would become the spark that would grow to illuminate his whole world. It took root at dinner when he shocked himself by promising Katherine he would return in two weeks for the unveiling of the nativity. According to Lily Mae, all the fine people of Kingston planned to attend, and they wanted him to see the magnitude of his delivery. That was all fine and good, but what on earth had he gotten himself into and more importantly, why? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about Katherine that drew him as if she had a web and he was caught within.
So, keeping his word, he did return. He planned to arrive the afternoon of the unveiling, spend one night, and over the course of the next eight vacation days hit as many casinos as possible on his route back home. He called Katherine from his hotel room and was once again struck by the tenderness of her voice.
“Would you mind if I drove to your hotel, and then we could use my car to pick up Lily Mae and Sam? I’d like very much to be at the church in plenty of time before the crowd begins to grow.”
He went back through it all in his mind a million times later that night. There was nothing that prophesied the kind of night he would experience and for that he was glad. If he had known in advance, he might have declined the offer.
The evening itself was simple. The emotions that accompanied it were startling. Katherine and Lily Mae sat in the back seat and filled the entire car with chatter. Sam called shotgun as if someone else were joining them and smiled sheepishly as William chauffeured them to St. Thomas.
Quite a crowd had already congregated, but it was small in comparison to the vast gathering that would assemble by the time the unveiling occurred.
“So this is what small town America looks like,” he said to his companions.
Lily Mae chuckled. “A little bit of this and a little bit of that and a whole lot of everybody knowing everybody else.”
“And a lovely place to call home,” Katherine added.
The Kingston police barricaded two blocks of Main Street to ensure there would be plenty of room for folks to gather, but William soon wondered if they needed to consider blocking off a third. The crowd grew rapidly by the minute, and the excitement in the air was electrifying. He couldn’t fight the contagious anticipation. When Father Drew stepped to the microphone the crowd began to settle. He tapped the live mic a couple of times and the noise came to an immediate hush.
William listened as Father Drew commanded the large crowd with his amplified voice and was startled when he heard his own name announced over the loudspeaker. Something about “a friend of Katherine McGregor and please join me in giving him a hearty welcome.” The crowd erupted in applause.
Katherine leaned in closer and explained, “Kingston is applauding you.”
William shot her a bewildered look, puzzled as to why he was worthy of mention before this substantial crowd of strangers.
“You are the one who made the delivery possible, and the whole town appreciates you.”
William felt several pats on the back from those standing nearest him. He realized he was smiling back at Katherine as if it was commonplace for him to be the center of attention. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Soon after, the spotlights were dimmed, and an expectant hush saturated the night air. A single female voice began singing “What Child Is This” a cappella as the life-size figures of Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus were placed in the manger. When the angel and the shepherds were unveiled, a duo of teenaged boys, accompanied by a flute, sang “Angels We Have Heard on High.” William felt a warmth spread through his body and wondered if others could feel it too. Then, as the three wise men were revealed, a man and woman accompanied by a string quartet, sang “We Three Kings of Orient Are.”
Nothing prepared William for what would happen next. Small tapered candles were distributed throughout the crowd and almost instantly a warm glow of candlelight surrounded the nativity. Drums rolled and trumpets blared while the voices of the crowd joined to sing “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful.”
William knew then Christmas was much more than what the big box stores advertised. It was strangers singing shoulder to shoulder as they gazed at the nativity. It was Katherine with her arm linked in his, smiling at him, whispering something into his ear. “Just look what you delivered to our town. Merry Christmas, William.”
Words were not adequate at that moment. He didn’t know how to describe how he felt, so he did what his gut told him to do. It was the easiest thing, yet also the hardest thing, he could possibly imagine. He slipped his hands out of the pockets of his corduroy coat and casually took Katherine’s arm on one side of him and Lily Mae’s on the other. They snuggled in closer. He didn’t even attempt to wipe the tears. He just let them drip off his face, one after another.
Dinner that night was a bit of a blur. Katherine insisted they all dine with her at Caroline’s Landing, Kingston’s finest restaurant. William observed several remarkable things over dinner. Sam ordered a hamburger, of course, and no one seemed to mind it wasn’t on the menu. The meal was one of the finest he had ever tasted, but the most delicious part of the evening was the telling of the story of how Katherine and Lily Mae and Sam had all become connected in life. And it took the three of them to tell the story to the fullest.
So here he was, sitting at an elegant restaurant, amidst three people who were not one bit related, but they were as fine a family as he had ever seen or read about. “That’s just about the most compelling story I’ve heard in my entire life.” And raising his glass he said, “Here’s to Doc and Murphy, two fine gentlemen I wish I had known.”
He remained in Kingston for the next seven days. Katherine insisted he stay with her, convincing him the old rule about guests and fish beginning to stink after three days never applied to Cross Creek. He soon discovered the house, the land, and the woodland animals. The moonlight and stars were the most glorious things he had seen in his thirty-eight years of living. He felt connected to the land in a good way, making him ponder if his people had been loggers in days gone by. Katherine watched him walk the grounds each sunrise. She hoped the trees were rooting him, giving him sanctuary.
She kept him busy. Each day they ran errands in town, giving Katherine an excuse to introduce him. He shook hands with more people in those seven days than he had in his entire life.
Two of those errand days included Sam and Lily Mae. As if they had done it their whole lives, Sam always called shotgun, and Lily Mae and Katherine huddled together in the back seat telling stories which kept them all laughing—laughing so hard that people in other cars alongside them couldn’t help but look at them and smile.
Lily Mae went to the library twice a week to return her books-on-tape and select four more. She introduced William to the young librarian, Annabelle Curry, who seemed to blush when her eyes caught his. It did not go unnoticed, and Lily Mae whispered it to Katherine as William chauffeured. When he caught a glimpse of Katherine’s smile and a raise of her eyebrow, he shook his head and laughed, trying hard to conceal his interest.
And just like that, his seven days of vacation ended. It was the quickest week of his life. He awoke, realizing it would be his last day in Kingston and he felt a worrisome nag in his gut. It gnawed at him, telling him leaving was somehow wrong. But he fought the feeling, and showered and shaved and tidied the room. He supposed the source of it came from knowing he was driving away from a place that felt so right.
His real life was quite different from the life he had lived these last seven days in Katherine’s company. For decades, he had convinced his heart that
he preferred to live as a solitary man. Over the years, he’d developed a strong defense mechanism that allowed him to shut off the rest of the world when he felt claustrophobic from the laughter and close bonds he witnessed in others. If this mechanism was so strong, why was it failing him now? It was going to take everything within him to zip his suitcase and carry it to his truck.
Nausea reared its ugly head. To calm his stomach, he stretched out on the freshly made bed. His heart was beating rapidly, and his breath was shallow. His brain was beginning to process the terrifying possibility that he might be having a heart attack, and for just the tiniest second, he saw the irony of it all. He might be dying in the very place where he had begun to understand how tired he was of being estranged from an ordinary life. That peculiar thought shot through his body like a jolt from a defibrillator. He heard a loud moan and was petrified to realize that the sound had come from his own mouth.
In an attempt to stop the room from spinning, he turned on his side. After fifty or sixty seconds the pain began to subside, the nausea slowly dissipated and his breathing started to normalize. And then it hit him. It all suddenly became evident. He realized he was lying in the fetal position. All those years ago, his body had reacted the same way when he was told he’d have to leave his mother’s house to go live with people he didn’t know. Twice now in his life every fiber of his being had convulsed at the idea of walking away from love. He heard another sound coming from within, and this time it was sobbing.
There was no turning back or second-guessing when he bashfully told Katherine he had decided to stay in Kingston. Remarkably, she did not ask all the logistical questions for which he had no answers…where he planned to live or how he planned to make a living or even if he had really thought it through.
Letters on the Table Page 17