by Stephen Bly
Develyn trailed off to the living room where her buckskin-colored boots and forest-green socks waited by the off-white leather sofa. “I’ve already thought things through, Lily. I declined to teach summer school with you because of the trip to Maine. But I have no intention of going there alone. I’ve canceled the cabin.” She sucked in her breath. “My dear daughter, my only child, has accused me of being so unforgiving and cold-hearted that I caused her father to have a massive heart attack and die.”
“That’s not fair.”
“In her twenty-year-old mind, it must seem reasonable. She held on to the hope we would get back together.”
“Maybe you and I should go down to Nashville again. We enjoyed that long weekend. Remember when we went to that costume place and tried on the Dolly Parton wigs?”
Develyn arched her eyebrows. “I seem to remember we tried on the Dolly Parton everything.”
“Only you, Dev. There are some things I need no help with, thank you.” Lily studied her eyes. “You see, you can still laugh and giggle, Ms. Worrell.”
The sigh was slow, deliberate … like a ship departing for a long voyage and none of the crew quite ready to say good-bye. “Dear, sweet Lily, your summer is planned. Six weeks of summer school and a month with the grandchildren in Wisconsin. I’m not sure when I will have grandchildren, nor if my daughter will even tell me. So, I would get to sit at home all summer and feel sorry for myself. I have felt sorry for myself for over ten years. I can’t stand that any more.”
“Ten years?” Lily questioned.
“That wasn’t the only time Spencer did this.” Dev handed Lily the glass of ice water, then plopped down on the couch.
“You never told me that.”
“I never told anyone that. Not mother. And certainly not Delaney. But like an old wool coat, lies wear thin over the years.” Dev tugged on the green socks. “I’m tired, Lily. So tired of having to be strong for everyone but me. Like a runner who has hit the wall, I can’t go on. I didn’t know I would hit the wall today, but I did. Now, I believe the Lord has put this wild idea in my head. It’s my only chance to regain purpose in my life.”
“But why, all of a sudden, Wyoming? It’s not like you to be impulsive.”
“The completely predictable Ms. Worrell does something spontaneous. That will be big news at Riverbend Elementary. It’s about time.” She pulled on the light tan boots, then smoothed her jeans down over the tops. “Besides, it’s not all of a sudden. I’ve been planning this trip since I was ten years old.”
“Ten? You’ve wanted to go to Wyoming since you were ten?”
Dev strolled over and closed the curtains behind the television. “I was in Wyoming when I was ten. Now, I’m going back.”
“But where?”
“A little town.”
“What little town?”
Dev stared at the lifeless ashes in the tan brick fireplace. Her voice softened. She no longer sounded like a fifth-grade teacher, but like a child. “I don’t know its name. I can’t remember.”
“Where in Wyoming is it?”
“I’m not sure. The dream is fuzzy, thirty-five years later.” Dev meandered to the window on the south side of the sparsely furnished living room.
Carrying the water glass, Lily scooted after her. “You don’t know where you are going or where you will stay or what you will do or how long you will be there?”
Develyn closed the floor-to-ceiling curtains. “That’s about it.”
“I’m worried about you.”
She retrieved the water glass and took a sip. “You think I need counseling?”
“It’s a thought.”
“Perhaps Mr. Thompson?” Develyn grinned.
“I’m afraid our school counselor is busy with community service projects since his last DUI.”
“Lily, the most peaceful, wonderful days of my entire life were the two weeks we were stranded in Wyoming with car trouble on our way to Yellowstone. For two weeks a ten-year-old girl lived in a log cabin heated from a big old rock fireplace. I slept in a feather bed that I had to share with my twin brother. We rode horses every morning until I was so sore I could hardly walk. We scouted along the Bridger Trail … the real trail where we could still see the ruts of the pioneer wagons. We climbed up on the bluffs once occupied by Shoshone, Crow, Sioux, Arapahoe, and Cheyenne Indians and found arrowheads and artifacts. The air was filled with the aroma of fresh-cut hay, sage, horse sweat, and old oiled leather. Father would give us a quarter, and Dewayne and I would walk barefoot down the middle of that dusty street to the Sweetwater Grocery, which was in Mrs. Tagley’s living room. We’d buy an orange Popsicle and sit out on the bench made from a covered wagon seat and pretend we were waiting for Wyatt Earp, or Marshal Dillon, or Stuart Brannon to mosey down the street. In the afternoon, Dewa would go fishing with father. Mother would read her treasured Faulkner, so I lay in that big old hammock in the shade of the cottonwoods and rocked back and forth and wrote stories in the Wyoming blue sky. That was when I decided to become a teacher. Life was too grand to hold it all in. I needed to tell others. In the evening Father roasted hot dogs over the flames of the fireplace and Mother read to us. The only book in the cabin Mother approved for us was Will James’s Smoky the Cow Horse. Poor Mother, we must have made her read it three times in two weeks. I would go to sleep with horse dreams and wake up with horse dreams then get to start the whole cycle all over again. I remember praying that our old Buick station wagon would never get fixed.”
“What a wonderful memory.”
“Lily, it just might have been as close to paradise as I will ever get on this earth. We never made it to Yellowstone, yet when we drove out of town, I cried and cried. I promised myself that I would come back the next year. But the years went by. Then I said the summer between high school and college, I would travel west. But I needed to work and save up for Purdue. So I made it my college graduation present to myself. But Spencer had a summer job with Jacobs Engineering and he said he couldn’t live without me.” Dev rubbed her chin and bit her lip. “I should have gone that summer. Perhaps things would have been different. No, that’s not true. There wouldn’t be any Delaney Melinda Worrell. She hates me, but I can’t keep from loving her. She’s still the joy of my life.”
“Release her, Dev. She’s twenty. She’s a big girl now.”
“I know, Mother tells me the same thing. Lily, I’m going to Wyoming. I’m leaving today. I will regret it dearly if I don’t try to find paradise one more time. It sounds like John Milton, doesn’t it?”
“I was thinking more like Thomas Wolfe. Everything is different now. You aren’t ten any more, Dev.”
“I can wish, Lily.” Dev felt her shoulders tense, then relax. “I can wish. Maybe it won’t be paradise. Maybe it will only be 50 percent paradise … or 20 percent … or 2 percent. It still beats staying here with nothing to do but mow the grass and feed the cats.”
Lily shook her head. “I still can’t figure what possesses you to do such a thing.”
Dev Worrell locked the sliding-glass back door, then strolled to the entryway. “Lingering memories of a dirt-road town.”
“Dirt-road town?”
“It must be ten miles off the blacktop before you come to town, and then there are no paved streets, Lily. Can you imagine a town where there is no paved highway, and no paved streets?”
“But that was thirty-five years ago, Dev. How do you know it’s the same?”
“I’ve got to find out. I made a promise to a ten-year-old girl. I got delayed. Now’s my chance to keep the promise.”
“Doesn’t your mother know the name of the town?”
“I don’t know. I don’t intend to ask her. Father would know, bless his heart. He understood his Devy-girl. He died way too young, Lily. I don’t think I ever got over losing Daddy. Mother got over it. Dewayne got over it. I don’t think I ever did. Maybe this trip will help that loss too.”
“Are those all the shoes you’re taking?”
&
nbsp; “One pair of boots, one pair of tennies, and I’m taking one blue denim dress.”
“The one with fake rhinestones?” Lily pressed.
“Yes, and other than that just jeans, tops, and sweats. One pair of earrings: the diamond studs.”
“Now I know you’ve lost it. You own more earrings than anyone in Montgomery County.”
“I want to go some place where it doesn’t matter if my earrings coordinate with the rest of my outfit. Somewhere I don’t have to fuss with my hair, polish my nails, or wear a fake smile to make everyone think things are fine.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Lily challenged.
“I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“You are always in control. Always on top of everything. This is not you, Dev.”
She snatched up the duffel bag with one hand and held the water glass in the other. “I certainly hope not. I’m fed up with the real me.”
“Will you phone me every night?” Lily carried the garment bag. “Just call me and say, ‘Hey girl, I’m OK.’ Then you can hang up if you want to.”
Dev felt a tear puddle in the corner of her eye, but her hands were full and she couldn’t massage it. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes. You know I worry about you as if you were my sister.”
“Lily, I’ll phone whenever I can.”
“Are you taking your laptop? Can you send me an e-mail from time to time?”
“It’s in the Cherokee. I’ll try, Lily.”
The two women paused in the laundry room, at the door that led to the garage. There was a long pause as their eyes shouted what their hearts couldn’t whisper.
Lily cleared her throat. “By the way, Ms. Worrell, where is your other cat?”
“I imagine Smoky’s asleep in the big basket on the top shelf of the hutch in the kitchen.”
“He sleeps up there?”
“Only when Josephine ticks him off.”
“Does that happen much?”
“24/7.” Develyn held the garage door open as Lily pushed her way through.
“And you aren’t telling your mother, your daughter, or anyone where you are going?”
Dev pressed the button on the automatic garage door opener. “I’m telling you. And I wrote to Dewayne.”
Lily opened the back door of the Jeep Cherokee and hung the garment bag on a hook. “Where is your brother?”
“Somewhere in the Persian Gulf, I think. He isn’t allowed to disclose his location. He volunteers for long tours of duty since his Audrey died. But he will understand. Dewa always understands me. I wish he was closer.”
“If Dewayne were standing here right now, what would he tell you?” Lily challenged.
Develyn shoved the duffel bag in the back seat and slammed the door. She stared down into the glass of ice water. “He’d say, ‘Devy-girl, don’t yank on the reins and hurt Brownie’s mouth. Put only your toes in the stirrups so you won’t get hung up, and don’t drip orange Popsicle on your white T-shirt.’”
Lily smiled and held the driver’s door open. “Your brother is unique.”
Develyn slipped in the car and plunked her ice water into the cup holder. “Yes, if there were two men in the world like him, I would have married the other one.”
Lily slammed the door and continued to stand in the crowded garage. “How far are you going tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have a reservation anywhere?”
“No.”
“Which route are you taking? Or is that a secret?”
Dev glanced in the rearview mirror to check her lipstick. “I’ll take 74 across to the Quad Cities, then get on Interstate 80 west.”
“You could stay with Ginny McGill tonight,” Lily suggested. “She’s teaching at a Christian school near Davenport. Do you want me to call her?”
“Lily, I don’t even want to see anyone I know, let alone stay with someone. This is way too crazy to have to explain to anyone else.”
“So, that leaves out Jack and Sarah Smithwick in Iowa City. They are both full professors now.”
“Yes, I know, the psychology department at the University of Iowa. That’s not very subtle, Ms. Martin.”
“OK, where will you stay tonight?”
“I’ll drive until I’m tired.”
“You’ll pull over if you get sleepy?”
“Of course.”
“And you’ll find a nice motel before it gets dark?”
“You sound like my mother,” Dev scowled.
“You didn’t answer me.”
“I will be careful, Lily.”
“You still didn’t answer me.”
“I will pull over and get a room when I get tired. That’s all I can say.”
“Dev, aren’t you scared?”
“No, I don’t think so. Kind of exciting, actually.”
“Well, I’m scared for you,” Lily admitted.
“Why?”
“Because there are weirdos out there. This isn’t going to be one of those scenes where you disappear off the face of the earth, is it?”
“That is not my plan.”
“What is your plan, you know, for returning home? This is your home, Dev Worrell.”
“I plan on being back by August 14th, so I can lead the teacher’s contingent from Riverbend Elementary to welcome the new superintendent.”
“Provided he doesn’t make a pass at Miss Chambers.”
“I hear he’s from Idaho,” Dev said.
Lily shook her head. “That isn’t good.”
“Why? Idaho always sounded like a nice place.”
“Yes, I agree. So why would a man want to leave such a nice place for central Indiana? He must have been chased out of the state.”
“Point well taken, Ms. Martin. You will have to e-mail me and let me know what is waiting for me when I return.”
“I like the sound of that. ‘When I return.’ Sometimes, Dev, this feels like I am saying good-bye forever.”
“Don’t be silly, Lily. I will be here to see just how Ms. Martin gets along with Dougie Baxter.”
“You really requested that he be in my class?”
“No, I requested that he be held back and put in Ken Ainsworth’s class. But Mr. and Mrs. Baxter would hear nothing of it. They asked me who the finest sixth-grade teacher was.”
“So, naturally you mentioned my name.”
“Of course. What else could I say?”
“Perhaps Dougie will mature over the summer,” Lily sighed.
“Maybe so, but whatever you do, don’t give him a metal ruler or let him near a screwdriver,” Develyn cautioned.
“Did they ever get your computer fixed?”
“I don’t want to think about it.”
“I can’t believe you are really doing this.”
“It does feel a little strange.”
“Aha! You can change your mind. I’ll help you unpack.”
Develyn handed Lily the house key. “I said it feels strange, not that it feels bad. Actually, it feels good. Very good. And I’m not used to feeling good.”
“Is this where we say good-bye?” Lily pressed.
“You’ll feed the cats?”
“I’ll feed the tormentor and the tormentee.”
“OK, then I’m leaving.”
Lily motioned toward the street. “Back your Jeep into the driveway, then we’ll say good-bye.”
Develyn backed the silver Cherokee out onto the white gravel drive, past the Japanese pine, then punched the button to close the garage door.
Lily strolled up to the open window.
“Well, Ms. Martin, you enjoy teaching summer school.”
“Ms. Worrell, you have a wonderful summer. I hope that little ten-year-old girl is not disappointed.”
“Me too, Lily. Tell me I’m not crazy.”
Lily Martin reached into the front seat and hugged Develyn, then kissed her cheek. “I’ve known you since you graduated from Purdu
e. You’ve never done anything crazy…”
Develyn reached out and wiped the tear from Lily’s cheek. “Thank you.”
“… until now. Go on before I really start sobbing.”
Dev took a sip of ice water, then wiped her own eyes. “This is silly. Just think of it as if I’m going away to camp. I’m just going on a summer vacation.”
“Yeah, I know.” Lily folded her arms and held herself tight. “Bye, Devy-girl.”
“Bye, Lily. Thanks for always being here for me. If you were a man, I’d marry you.”
“Yeah, the guy who lives next door said the same thing to me,” Lily laughed. “Now, go on. Go have an adventure.”
Develyn drove the 2002 champagne silver-colored Jeep Cherokee to the end of the gravel driveway. When she looked back, Lily jogged toward her. She rolled the window back down. “What’s wrong?”
“Develyn Worrell, don’t you go out there to Wyoming and marry yourself a cowboy.”
Develyn peered over the top of her sunglasses. “Why did you say that?”
“For the life of me, I can’t think of any other good reason for you to go there.”
“Lily, I’ve been depressed for three years. I’ll go crazy … or worse … if I stay here. I promise you, I won’t marry a cowboy.”
Develyn pulled the Jeep out into Seminole Street.
There was a rap on the window.
She rolled it down. Again.
“If you do find a cowboy, Devy-girl, he has to have a friend who likes graying, plain-looking school teachers.”
“Lily, you are not a plain-looking, graying school teacher.”
Lily Martin jammed her head in the open window and kissed Develyn’s cheek again. “I’m scared for you, Ms. Worrell. You come back to me. I need you in my life. And Riverbend Elementary needs you.”
A gravel truck slid to a stop behind the Jeep and honked his air horn.
“That’s my signal.”
“Good-bye, Dev. May your summer be even better than your horse dreams.”
Framed in her rearview mirror, Develyn watched the white brick house, a dark haired sixth-grade teacher, and forty-five years of tightly controlled emotions begin to fade. She reached for the square gold box of tissue.