Class of '59 (American Journey Book 4)
Page 27
Mary Beth forced a smile as they proceeded toward a collection of beachside cottages and an uncertain future. She resumed the conversation a moment later.
"I worry about change," Mary Beth said. "I worry about losing what I have, including the people I love."
Mark tilted his head.
"Everyone worries about that."
"I know. But not everyone obsesses about it. I've obsessed lately."
"Is there a reason why?"
Mary Beth nodded.
"Today is the first anniversary of Jordan's death. I didn't bring it up earlier because I didn't want to spoil our weekend, but I've been thinking about it all day."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Mark asked.
Mary Beth smiled.
"I would rather talk about football."
Mark laughed.
"Then talk about football."
"I would if I thought it would help."
"Do you think about Jordan a lot?"
"I have today. I'm a little crazy about dates and anniversaries. Last October 8 was Jordan's twenty-fourth birthday. It was also the fifth day of our engagement," Mary Beth said. She glanced at Mark. "Today is the fifth day of our engagement."
Mark smiled.
"I get it now. You're obsessive, crazy, and superstitious."
Mary Beth glared at Mark.
"Don't forget homicidal. I'm in a killing mood right now."
Mark laughed.
"I'll be good."
Mary Beth shot a playful grin.
"You better."
Mark and Mary Beth said no more for the next five minutes. They walked in splendid silence as the crowds thinned, the sun dropped, and a not-so-crimson tide rolled in.
Mary Beth enjoyed every second. She used the time to ponder and reflect. She let her mind drift when Mark took her hand, laced his fingers through hers, and pulled her close. She thought about other walks on other beaches. Nineteen fifty-nine seemed so long ago.
"You're quiet all of a sudden," Mark said.
"I'm just thinking again."
"Can I ask about what?"
Mary Beth smiled.
"You can. I'm no longer homicidal."
Mark laughed.
"That's a relief."
"I'll bet it is," Mary Beth said.
"So what's on your mind now?"
"I'm thinking about how lucky I am to be here."
"I can't argue with that," Mark said. "There were several times that last day I didn't think we would make it. We were lucky to escape the mob."
"I don't mean just that. I mean other kinds of luck. I wouldn't be here today, walking with you, if several things hadn't fallen into place back there."
"I don't follow."
"Think about it," Mary Beth said. "We're here because Piper left an old newspaper on a table and charged her phone the day I was shot. We're here because Ben asked her to the prom. We're here because your mother gave up her siblings. We're here because you didn't give up on us."
"Do you think about that a lot?"
"I think about it all the time. It's another reason I'm a little nutty today. I wonder when my luck will run out – or my lucky charm will run away."
Mark leaned toward Mary Beth and kissed her cheek.
"I'm not going anywhere. That's why I put a ring on your finger. I wanted to tell you in the clearest possible way that I'll be here tomorrow and the next day and the next."
"I know."
Mark smiled.
"See? You're better already."
Mary Beth laughed.
"Why do you put up with me?"
"I 'put up' with you because you're a wonderful human being," Mark said. "I 'put up' with you because you're smart and kind and beautiful. Don't think for a minute I've overlooked that."
Mary Beth smiled.
"You're talking like a guy again."
Mark chuckled.
"Just don't lump me with my brother."
"I won't," Mary Beth said. "Your mother broke the mold with Ben."
"Yes, she did."
"How is he doing anyway? Is he adjusting to college life?"
"I should ask you that," Mark said. "You talked to his roommate this morning."
"Piper is not his roommate. She's his dorm mate."
"That's what I call a distinction without a difference."
Mary Beth laughed. She couldn't disagree. Though Ben and Piper occupied different rooms in the same dormitory complex at UCLA, they were, for all practical purposes, roommates. They had become best friends and more since moving to Westwood in August and starting college careers in the city that had brought them together.
Piper had decided to attend college on the West Coast in late July. She told her parents she had developed a weakness for sunshine, beaches, and Thai cuisine. She told Mary Beth she had developed a weakness for brown-eyed boys with killer smiles.
Brody and Colleen McIntire gave Piper their blessing despite numerous misgivings. They suspected that her decision to trade Knoxville for Los Angeles had less to do with academics and ambience than a young man she had met at a Huntsville shopping mall.
Mary Beth and Piper had introduced Donna, Mark, and Ben to their parents at a church picnic on June 18. Each followed a script they had helped to create in two days in a hotel suite. With the help of a physics professor and his resourceful wife, the girls had managed to fully integrate a fifties family into the digital world in less than a week.
The colonel and his wife had warmed immediately to Donna and had done all they could to welcome her to Alabama. Brody helped the widow repair and furnish a three-bedroom Victorian she had purchased in Five Points, a historic district in Huntsville. Colleen went out for coffee with her new friend at least twice a week.
Brody also warmed to Mark and leapt at the chance to find him a job. He introduced the recent college graduate to his colleagues at the Marshall Space Flight Center and then to his friends in Huntsville's engineering community. The flight center snapped up the quiet Californian before Geoffrey Bell could even manufacture his bachelor's degree.
Mary Beth smiled as she thought about bogus credentials and her visit to Midway High School. She wondered if Principal Raines had ever requested Piper's records. She wondered what West Germany had sent in reply. Then she felt a twinge of envy.
Like Mark and Ben and unlike Mary Beth, Piper had actually attended school in the spring of 1959. She had passed tests, passed notes, and passed people in the hallway. She had strolled at a hop, made out at a drive-in, and redefined the Mona Lisa. She had attended the prom.
It did not matter that Piper had not marched in Midway High School's graduation or appeared in its yearbook. She had been a vital part of something real. Now that member of a high school Class of '59 was a member of a college Class of '21. It was enough to make one's head spin.
Mary Beth pondered the irony of it all. She was the only one of the four young people who was doing what she had planned to do a year ago. She was taking classes at the University of Alabama School of Medicine and preparing for a new life with the man she loved.
She thought about how quickly her relationship with Mark had formed and blossomed and wondered whether it had developed too fast. Love, her grandmother once told her, was a crock-pot stew and not a microwave meal. It required time and care. It punished expedience.
Mary Beth walked with Mark down the quiet beach until they reached the Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge. The undeveloped marsh between Gulf Shores and Gulf Highlands was the only undeveloped stretch of the Fort Morgan Peninsula. It was a perfect place to rest, get someone's undivided attention, and put one last matter to bed.
Mary Beth stopped when the beach became more grass than sand. She glanced at the setting sun as it said good night to Alabama and then turned to face her fiancé.
"Can I ask you a question?" Mary Beth asked.
Mark smiled.
"I believe that's allowed when you're engaged."
Mary Beth stared at Mark.
&nb
sp; "Can I ask you a serious question?"
"You're wearing a bikini, Mary Beth. You can club me with a bat if you want."
She laughed.
"I just lumped you with Ben."
Mark chuckled.
"I was afraid you would do that."
He placed his hands on her shoulders and met her gaze.
"What do you want to ask me?"
Mary Beth took a breath.
"Are you happy?"
"What are you getting at?"
"It's a simple question, Mark. Are you happy? Are you happy here? Are you happy with your life? Are you happy knowing you will never again see the world you left?"
He put his hands to her face and gave her a long, tender kiss.
"I am," Mark said. "I'm very happy."
"OK."
"That's it?"
Mary Beth nodded.
"That's it."
Mark laughed.
"I thought you were going to ask something big."
Mary Beth looked at him thoughtfully.
"I did."
Mark smiled and shook his head.
"I may never understand you."
"That's all right," Mary Beth said. She took his hand and smiled. "You have years to figure me out."
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Near the end of My Cousin Vinny, one of my favorite movies, Marisa Tomei warns Joe Pesci, her go-it-alone lawyer boyfriend, that he may actually have to thank people who help him succeed. Pesci frowns at the prospect. He laments the fact he was not able to win his first case without the assistance of others. Tomei sarcastically describes his "dilemma" as a "nightmare."
Needless to say, I can't relate. I love thanking people. I love getting their help. For without their assistance, I would not be able to bring quality novels to the reading public.
Some of the people who helped bring this novel to the public are veterans. Aaron Yost has edited every book. My wife, Cheryl Heldt, and brother-in-law, Jon Johnson, have read every book. I am deeply indebted to them and others who offered their time, talents, and insights.
They include Morgan Coyner, Leslie Teske Mills, Christine Stinson, and Craig Stoess, who read the early drafts; Mary Heldt, Cathy Hundley, Esther Johnson, and Becky Skelton, who read the later drafts; and Maureen Driscoll, John Fellows, and Kristin Wogahn, who provided expertise on a variety of subjects. Driscoll is the author of twelve novels.
I am also grateful to cover illustrator Laura Wright LaRoche and several individuals who provided research assistance and guidance. Among the most helpful were staff members from the Library of Congress, Los Angeles Public Library, Nevada Gaming Control Board, Pasadena Public Library (California), and University Libraries (University of Nevada, Las Vegas).
When researching and writing this novel, I consulted several books. They include The 1950s, edited by Stuart A. Kallen; The American Drive-In Restaurant by Michael Karl Witzel; Fashions of a Decade: The 1950s by Patricia Baker; Fragments: Poems, Intimate Notes, Letters by Marilyn Monroe; Futures at Stake: Youth, Gambling, and Society by Howard J. Shaffer, Matthew N. Hall, and Joni Vander Bilt; and Las Vegas: City without Clocks by Ed Reid.
I also learned much about the Fabulous Fifties by reading the Las Vegas Sun, Los Angeles Times, Pasadena Star-News, Washington Post, and Whittier Daily News. I encourage readers to consult these and other sources when seeking information about a truly remarkable era.