The Regrets of Cyrus Dodd

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The Regrets of Cyrus Dodd Page 13

by Bette Lee Crosby


  In early June when Cyrus and Ruth attended Joy’s graduation Peter Crawford sat beside them, and in his lap was a large bouquet of red roses. When the ceremony ended Peter gave Joy the flowers, and she kissed him on the mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to his chest in much the same way Cyrus held Ruth.

  “Congratulations, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  Afterward he insisted on taking everyone to dinner at the finest restaurant in downtown Wyattsville.

  “It’s the least I can do,” he said cheerfully.

  “I had planned on doing that myself,” Cyrus replied. When he noticed Joy glaring at him he added, “But I guess I can wait until next time.”

  * * *

  In late August Peter knocked at the door on a Saturday when Joy and Ruth were out shopping.

  “Joy’s not home,” Cyrus said. “Was she expecting you?”

  Peter hesitated a moment then sheepishly admitted, “Actually I was hoping to speak with you.”

  Cyrus pushed the screen door open. “Come join me. I’m listening to the baseball game.”

  They settled in the living room next to the radio, and for several minutes there was only the sound of the announcer rattling off play-by-play details of the game. In the top of the ninth, Joe DiMaggio hit a bases-loaded home run that put the Yankees ahead by seven runs and pretty much ended the game.

  “Looks like the Senators are going to lose another one,” the announcer said, and Cyrus snapped off the radio.

  He turned to Peter. “Ruth’s got some lemonade in the ice box. Would you care for a glass?”

  “Lemonade sounds great.”

  When Cyrus stood and started toward the kitchen, Peter followed along.

  “As you probably realize,” he said nervously, “I’m very much in love with your daughter.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “My intentions are honorable. That’s why I’m here.”

  Cyrus poured two glasses of lemonade and handed one to Peter. “You’ll like this. Ruth adds a touch of lime to her lemonade.”

  Peter took a small sip, gave a nod then continued.

  “I want to ask Joy to marry me, but before I do so I’d like to get your blessing.”

  “My blessing, huh?” Cyrus took a long swallow then set his glass down on the table. “Joy’s our only daughter, and I treasure her as much as I treasure her mama. Yet here you are asking me to give her to you.” He shook his head sadly. “That’s asking a lot of a man.”

  “I know,” Peter replied solemnly. “But, sir, I promise I’ll treasure Joy just as much as you do. I’ve got a good job and money saved, so she’ll be well taken care of.”

  Cyrus cradled his chin between his index finger and thumb. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice grim and heavily weighted. “We’ve just gotten out this war, what if the Soviets start another one? Or the bottom falls out of the investment business? What then?”

  “I’ll get another job. If I have to dig ditches I’ll do it to provide for her and for our family.” Peter stopped a moment then gave a hesitant smile. “That is, if we’re lucky enough to have a family.”

  “Ruth would miss having Joy around just as much as I would,” Cyrus said, “so I’ve got her to think about.”

  “We wouldn’t be moving away,” Peter assured him. “We’d live right here in Wyattsville.”

  Cyrus sat for a long time looking down at the calloused hands in his lap.

  “I’ve seen how Joy looks at you,” he finally said, “and I’m saying yes for that reason. I do believe you’ll make her happy, and if she’s happy I have to be happy for her.”

  “You won’t regret this, sir!” Peter took hold of Cyrus’s hand. “I’ll make her happy, I promise.”

  “I expect nothing less,” Cyrus replied.

  * * *

  The wedding took place the third Sunday of November. Since the weather was too chilly for a backyard party, a small reception was held in the anteroom behind the Sacred Heart Chapel.

  That same afternoon Peter and Joy left for a one-week honeymoon in Richmond. When they checked into the Hotel Regency that evening, Joy looked around with wonder in her eyes: the high ceilings aglow with sparkling chandeliers, the marble floor, a bellman dressed in a red jacket with shiny brass buttons. All put together it was the grandest sight she’d ever seen.

  “I’ll remember this forever,” she murmured. And in the years to come that’s exactly what happened.

  With Joy and Peter off on their honeymoon, Cyrus and Ruth spent Thanksgiving alone.

  “Since it’s only the two of us,” she said, “I thought a roasted chicken would be better than fixing a big turkey.”

  Cyrus gave a shrug of disappointment. “I look forward to turkey leftovers.”

  “Well, if you’d like, we can invite Joy and Peter to dinner when they get home, and I’ll make a turkey then.”

  “Okay,” Cyrus said and stuffed a bit of chicken in his mouth. It seemed to him there was something very wrong with having to invite a daughter who’d sat across the table from him for over eighteen years.

  That evening as they were getting ready to go to bed, Cyrus gave a melancholy sigh. Ruth heard it and waited a few moments, thinking he’d say what was on his mind. When he didn’t, she asked what was troubling him.

  “All this change,” he replied. “First it’s one thing, then another.”

  “I would have made a turkey if I knew it was going to trouble you so.”

  “It’s not just the turkey, it’s everything. Leaving the farm, moving here to Wyattsville, losing Prudence, leaving that house and now losing Joy—”

  “Considering that we’ve been married for nearly a quarter of a century, those aren’t many changes at all. You’ve got to expect—”

  “Expect to lose the things I love?” Cyrus cut in. “When a man loses the things he loves, he’s got nothing left but regrets.”

  “Such nonsense!” Ruth exclaimed. “Your only problem is that you spend way too much time worrying about regrets and not enough time counting up your blessings.”

  She climbed into the bed and tugged the comforter up to her chin.

  “Hurry up,” she said mischievously. “I need you to come keep me warm.”

  Cyrus Dodd

  There’s more than a little truth in what Ruth says, but despite the years I can’t shake the feeling that too many things have been taken from me. Am I supposed to just forget the life I’d planned? The land I loved and the two babies I buried?

  She’s right, I’m not a man who can set things aside and forget about them. I know that. I don’t take well to change. When Ruth and I got married, I figured our life was all set. I could say how it would be in ten, twenty or fifty years; then everything changed.

  Losing the farm is what started it all. I didn’t like it when we first had to live in Prudence Greenly’s house, but soon as I got comfortable and started liking it we had to leave and I didn’t like that either. It seems every time I think my life has settled into where I know what to expect from one day to the next something changes, and it’s seldom a change for the better.

  I liked having Joy around the house. I liked when she was a little girl and looked for me to take care of her. My feelings haven’t changed just because she’s a married lady who has to be “invited” to dinner.

  It’s not that I don’t like Peter. I do. He’s a fine young man. If he wasn’t I’d have never allowed him to marry Joy. I just don’t like losing my only daughter.

  I’m like most men; I do what I have to do to protect my family. The regrets I have aren’t from what I’ve done. My regrets are from the times when I was helpless to do anything. God knows I’ve had more than my share of such times. I couldn’t save either of those babies or the farm, and now I can’t do anything to keep from losing Joy.

  Ruth might see Joy as a grown-up married lady, but to me she’s still our baby.

  Empty Nesters

  As Peter Crawford promised, he and Joy remained in Wyatts
ville. They didn’t live on Harrison Street but across town in an apartment building where they had friends their own age. That first year they came for dinner most every Sunday, but once Joy helped her mama clear away the dirty dishes they’d be off to some other thing: bicycling through the park, a movie they had to see or an evening of cards with their friends.

  As Joy hurriedly stacked the dishes back in the cupboard she’d say, “You don’t mind us leaving, do you, Mama?”

  “Of course not,” Ruth answered. She remembered the early years when she and Cyrus were first married, how they couldn’t wait for the day to end so they could lie side by side in the bed.

  No one asked Cyrus whether or not he objected, because it was assumed that Ruth spoke for them both. Once Peter and Joy were gone, Cyrus would inevitably complain about them leaving early.

  “It seems they could have stayed a bit longer,” he’d grouse. “We also have a deck of cards.”

  Knowing his thoughts as well as she knew her own, Ruth would remind him of the way it was when they were young.

  “Remember how we skipped the church social that first year because we wanted to have our own picnic on the high ridge?”

  Memories such as that almost always brought a smile to Cyrus’s face, and then they’d move on to cuddling on the sofa. Before the evening was over, he’d admit there was a certain amount of pleasure in it being just the two of them.

  * * *

  In the summer following their second anniversary, Joy telephoned and invited her parents to dinner at the luxurious Blue Moon Restaurant.

  “It’s a celebration,” she said. “Peter and I have some exciting news to share.”

  Although Ruth felt certain she knew what the news would be, she simply said, “I can’t imagine.”

  Joy giggled. “The Crawfords will be there too.”

  “How wonderful,” Ruth replied happily. “I can’t wait to hear what it is.”

  Joy laughed. “Forget it, Mama, I am not saying another word until Saturday.” She chattered on for a few minutes then claimed she had to run.

  “With all that’s happening, I’ve a million things to do,” she said.

  Ruth and Pauline Crawford were not only related through the marriage of their children; they were also good friends. For over a decade they’d worked together on the Brookside Library Fundraising Committee. They’d planned dances, teas and donor campaigns, and on two different occasions they’d traded party dresses back and forth.

  The moment Joy hung up, Ruth dialed the Crawfords’ number. Pauline answered just as the second ring started.

  “Have you heard?” Ruth asked.

  “Only that they’ve got something to celebrate,” Pauline said. “Do you think it’s what we’ve been hoping for?”

  “What else could it be?” Ruth replied.

  Moving ahead as if they’d already heard the news, Pauline claimed she was hoping for a girl. “Those fancy little dresses are such fun to shop for.”

  “Boy or girl,” Ruth said, “I’ll be happy as long as it’s healthy.”

  That evening when Cyrus came in from work, Ruth was bubbling over with excitement. Before he had time to hang his suit jacket in the closet, she spilled the news.

  “Peter and Joy invited us to have dinner with them at the Blue Moon on Saturday.”

  “Isn’t that place kind of expensive?” Cyrus replied.

  “It’s a celebration.”

  That explanation had been enough for Pauline to jump in on the assumption a baby was in the making, but Cyrus remained expressionless.

  “What kind of celebration?” he asked.

  Ruth gave him a you-know-what-this-means look.

  “It seems obvious they’re having a baby,” she reasoned. “What other kind of celebration could it be?”

  Cyrus shrugged. He wasn’t willing to guess what the celebration was for and suggested Ruth would be wise to do the same.

  “Wishing won’t make it so,” he said wearily. “I know that from experience.”

  * * *

  The Blue Moon was on the far side of Wyattsville, so Cyrus drove and the Crawfords rode over with them. Ruth and Pauline sat together in the back seat and spent most of the trip talking about the baby shower they’d be planning. George sat in the front seat across from Cyrus. The whole way over George rambled on and on about some friend who’d moved to the Wyattsville Arms Apartments.

  “Eddie claims the place is great,” George said. “He’s got friends to go bowling with and play cards. At least once or twice a month they’ve got some kind of party going…”

  Cyrus didn’t know Eddie, nor did he care to. Right now the only thing on his mind was whether or not having a baby meant Joy and Peter would be moving back to their side of town.

  When they arrived at the restaurant Joy and Peter were already seated, so the maître d’ led them back to the table. There was a round of happy hellos and kisses. Then everyone sat and Peter ordered a bottle of champagne.

  Once the glasses were filled Peter raised his and said, “Mom, Dad, Mister and Missus Dodd, you are now looking at the regional director of Reliable Investment’s New York office.”

  The smile Ruth was wearing faded instantly.

  “New York?” Pauline repeated. “What about the baby?”

  Peter blinked back his surprise. “Baby? What baby?”

  Ruth looked across at Joy. “I thought when you mentioned a celebration…”

  “Mama,” Joy said, giving the word the sound of annoyance. “We’re celebrating Peter’s new job!” She leaned over and kissed her husband’s cheek. “I’m very proud of him, and I think you should be too!”

  “We are,” Cyrus said, smoothing over the moment of awkwardness. “We’re all proud of Peter, and I for one would like to hear more about this job.”

  There was no further mention of a baby, and the remainder of the evening was spent talking about plans for their move. Everyone smiled and gave a nod of appreciation when Joy spoke of how they’d be living within walking distance of the museums and theaters, but Cyrus’s smile was stuck in a worrisome straight line.

  While Peter and Joy talked about the details of their move, Cyrus remembered how it felt when he watched his horse and wagon disappear down the road. Losing was losing. Joy would never again be his baby girl. She was now Peter’s wife. She’d go wherever he went, and Cyrus no longer had a say in it. Not even if they decided to move to China.

  * * *

  After the Blue Moon announcement there were two Sundays of family dinners. Then Joy and Peter were gone, taking with them Ruth’s hope of grandchildren. Seeing the sadness in her eyes, Cyrus suggested it might be time for a vacation.

  “A vacation?” Ruth replied. “To where?”

  “Well, we’ve never seen the ocean, so I was thinking maybe Virginia Beach.”

  Her eyes brightened, and a smile curled the edge of her mouth. “Virginia Beach? Really?”

  “Really.” Cyrus took her in his arms and kissed her as he did in the early years.

  “It’ll be just the two of us,” he said, making it sound like a good thing. After so many years together he knew that change, the very thing he hated most, was the thing that lifted Ruth’s spirit.

  In the days that followed a new look of excitement glittered in her eyes as she packed their suitcase. Twice Cyrus distinctly heard her singing By the Sea, and he was certain the trip was just the thing to help her move past the loneliness of losing Joy.

  As for him, nothing would make him forget. Not ever.

  * * *

  The drive to Virginia Beach took only five hours, and it included a stop for lunch and two more stops at roadside stands. The first was to purchase sunglasses; the second was to buy a handful of postcards.

  Ruth’s eyes glittered like a child at a carnival. “Oh, Cyrus, we should have done this years ago!”

  In all the years they’d been married, this was the first time they’d traveled anywhere for vacation. Each year Cyrus had taken his vacation tim
e and used the days to finish up a project of some sort or another. One year he painted the house; another he built a playroom in the basement. Then there was the summer he spent the full two weeks putting a picket fence around the house. When Joy was growing up it seemed there were always things to be done, and once she was married vacation days were spent visiting back and forth.

  * * *

  The Majestic Hotel was a large white building with a marble-floored lobby and a crystal chandelier dangling overhead. As Cyrus signed the guest register, Ruth’s eyes went back and forth taking in the sights.

  She tugged on the sleeve of Cyrus’s jacket and whispered, “Look!” Her stretched out finger pointed to the plate glass window at the rear of the lobby. “The ocean!”

  Cyrus wrapped his arm around her waist and smiled. Her look of happiness had a way of making him feel happy too.

  “You’re right,” he said. “We should’ve done this long ago.”

  That afternoon they strolled along Atlantic Avenue then sat at a tiny concession stand and drank lemonade. Hand in hand they browsed a dozen different souvenir stands, laughing at the comical signs, admiring shell-shaped sculptures and finally purchasing a box of taffy for Ruth’s library committee co-chair, Clara Bowman.

  When the sun faded from the horizon and the night air grew chilly, Cyrus wrapped his jacket around Ruth’s shoulders and cuddled her close. With no effort they fell into step as they walked, her hip brushing against his in that old familiar way. They were about to turn back to the hotel when Ruth heard the sound of music and started singing along.

  “On a day like today, we passed the time away, writing love letters in the sand…”

  Before the song ended they were standing in front of the Peppermint Club. The entrance door was propped open, and Cyrus saw the couples swaying to the music. He looked down at Ruth, offered his arm and said, “Shall we?”

  “Absolutely,” she replied and hooked her arm through his.

  Inside, at the bar and out on the dance floor people were shoulder to shoulder; then Cyrus spotted an empty table in the back corner. He guided Ruth through the maze of couples, and they settled at that table. In the center of the table was a small tent card suggesting “Try Our World Famous Margarita!” That’s what they ordered.

 

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