Farewell PFC Polk: The End of a Nightmare (In the Valley of Hope Book 2)

by Richard Weirich

  “Very well. Make it snappy…and I suggest you eat breakfast in the morning. We don’t need another day when you’re too sick to finish your job.” Otto surmised that Buddy was ill and was either unable or just forgot to document his work. Up until now, he thought that Buddy would be his best worker, and the one most likely to be recommended for a full-time position at the end of summer. It saddened him that Buddy was lying.

  There are few things more humiliating than being accused of something you did or did not do when you are completely innocent. Buddy vividly recalled handing his report to Eddie, who placed it with the others in an envelope and then he laid it on the seat next to Otto. Then he remembered what his daddy told him about watching out for his traveling companions. “Can’t trust nobody. There’s a lot of meanness in this old world. Got to learn to sleep with one eye open.”

  Was it possible that Mr. Bly was setting him up to fail? Or, did he just lose the report? Was Will only pretending to be his friend? Or was Eddie the culprit? Then, of course, there was the possibility that a day in the sun did mess with his mind.

  When Will returned to the room, Buddy cautiously interrogated his roommate. “Remember when Mr. Bly picked us up and we gave our report forms to him?”

  “Sure. We gave them over to Eddie.”

  “Mr. Bly came by when you were gone and was mad because I didn’t turn mine in.”

  “What? I saw you do it. In fact, I compared yours to mine to make sure I filled it out right.”

  “Something’s up, Will. Hard to believe that paper was lost by accident.”

  After that, Buddy had little to say as he assessed the damage from Otto Bly’s complaint. One day down and another 89 to go. He hoped that the unpleasant experiences of the first day were not a precursor to the remainder of his summer. He marveled at how much had happened since he boarded the Greyhound Bus in Strasburg yesterday morning culminating with a threat of losing his new job. If only his mother were there to give him one of her pep talks. She often used her flower garden for object lessons. “Never bought a plant or flower in my life,” she would say. “Everything that grows so beautifully here started as a seedling or cutting from a friend’s garden. If you’re going to make it in life, you’ve got to grow where you are planted.” He laughed to himself as he compared his life to a plant in new soil. But it did make him feel better.

  Will could sense that his new friend was discouraged so he attempted to get Buddy to think about something else. “What you gonna do about that girl?”

  “Guess we’ll just have to see what happens,” said Buddy.

  “You should have seen old Eddie making a fool of himself with her. Downright embarrassing. Asked her to give him a tour of West Point.”

  “That might take 20 minutes if you walk real slow. Pretty sure my hometown is bigger than this place, and that’s saying something.”

  When Will didn’t respond Buddy observed that his roommate had fallen asleep so he grabbed his shaving kit, a towel, and a change of clothes and tiptoed toward the door.

  As he took his place in line awaiting his turn in the bathroom the door opened and a fat man in a towel gruffly announced that there was no longer any hot water. “This is unacceptable,” yelled the man as he bounced down the hall and declared that he was going to the front desk to give them a piece of his mind.

  “Suppose he’s going down there like that?” said someone as the man neared the stairway to the downstairs lobby.

  Sure enough, the man took off down the stairs and Buddy and those with him burst into laughter.

  “Heck, it was worth a bath in cold water just to see that. That’s entertainment.”

  First Romance – June 6, 1953

  The remainder of the first week went without further incident and nothing occurred to confirm Buddy’s suspicions that someone was out to get him. Maybe the missing report form was only misplaced. After all, that first day was pretty crazy. And the week ended with a much-anticipated paycheck. Mr. Bly even stopped by the bank, where the checks were cashed, and then during the evening meal, he handed each of them an envelope containing their weekly earnings. After taxes, Buddy’s earnings for the week equaled just under $90.

  Maybe Buddy was just getting accustomed to Eddie, who seemed less obnoxious, although there was no let up in his pursuit of Sally, the waitress. In fact, she was even warming up to his advances, occasionally laughing at his forward antics. But Buddy still had done nothing about her apparent interest in him which had caused Will to be a little concerned that maybe his roommate wasn’t into girls. But then again, Buddy had shown him the wallet photos of Bobbie Jean and Trudy. Maybe Buddy had a thing for one of those girls.

  Mr. Bly spent weekends with his family which left Otto’s All Stars to fend for themselves. No one was happier about that turn of events than Eddie because now he had the room to himself and money in his pocket. “Party in my room tomorrow night,” he announced as they stood on the hotel’s porch watching Otto drive away.

  Will slept late on Saturday morning and intended to meet with his parents later that afternoon. He made it clear that he was not to be bothered unless “the hotel was on fire.” Buddy took advantage of the peace and quiet by writing letters to his mother, sister, Donnie, and Bobbie Jean.

  At 9:00 o’clock, Buddy departed the hotel and headed for the First National Bank of West Point to open an account. He was determined to save 50 percent of his income with hopes of purchasing a car when he returned home at the end of August.

  His first stop was at the house of Mrs. Lulabelle Duffy, who lived just a block away from the hotel. Buddy learned about her laundry service from a sign in the lobby.

  “Is that all you got?” asked a skinny, gray-haired lady as Buddy stood before her with a pillowcase stuffed with dirty clothes draped over his shoulder.

  “Yes, mam. That’s it,” said Buddy, who noticed the heavenly smell of fresh baked sugar cookies. “I’m Buddy Polk. Are you Mrs. Duffy?”

  “Have been for the last 50 years since I took that old scoundrel’s name. Mr. Duffy up and died 5 years ago and left me with this house and a bunch of bills. You married?”

  “No, mam.”

  “Are you rich?”

  Buddy laughed. “Far from it.”

  “Oh, well. Been hopin’ for a rich fella to come walking through that door to take me away from all this. But young and cute will do. I might look old, but I’ve got the stamina of a 20-year-old. Just look at this skinny waist.” Lulabelle gingerly struck a pose and then stared at Buddy until he gave her the answer she wanted.

  “Yes, mam. Mighty impressive.”

  “My best friend told me that old hubby of mine, God rest his soul, would still be alive if I hadn’t worn him out.” When she saw the shocked look on Buddy’s face, she cleared the air. “I’m just yankin’ your chain. Don’t mind me. My best friend also said that I ain’t right.” And then she laughed louder than before.

  Buddy attempted to bring the conversation back down to earth. “Been noticing that familiar smell. Sugar cookies, right?”

  “How did you know?” she replied while dumping his laundry into a wicker basket. “Fixin’ ‘em for my Sunday School class tomorrow and I got a granddaughter that loves ‘em. I’m in the old widows’ class, at least, that’s what we call it. Graduates from our class go straight to the graveyard. Now, about them sugar cookies.”

  “Yes, mam. They smell delicious. Mama makes ‘em all the time. Hers would be hard to beat…but I’ll bet yours might just give her a run for her money.

  “Stay right there. I’ll be right back.” Moments later she returned with a heart-shaped cookie. “Now, tell me if these are as good as your mama’s.”

  Buddy took a bite and then another. “I didn’t think that was possible,” he mumbled with a mouth full of cookies.

  “Well, what’s the verdict?”

  “I can only tell you if you keep this between the two of us.”

  “Won’t tell a soul. Gooder than good, ain’t they?”
<
br />   “Yes, mam. Best I ever had,” said Buddy and then he shared an idea “Why don’t you sell these cookies over at the hotel. I’ll bet the guests would buy them faster than you could make them. For the slogan on your sign just write, ‘Mrs. Duffy’s Homemade Sugar Cookies. Gooder than Good.’”

  At that instant, Buddy made a new friend. She was so taken with the charming young man that she considered doing his laundry for free. “Tell you what. If you can be back here before 5:00, I’ll have your clothes ready for you today.”

  Buddy was pleased to accept her offer and as he turned to leave she stopped him. “One more minute.” Again she returned from her kitchen. “Here’s one for the road. See you at 5:00. And if you change your mind about marryin’ me, I’ll have it ready by 3:00.”

  As Buddy headed for the bank on Main Street, he could still hear Mrs. Duffy laughing. He never knew that laundry could be so much fun.

  15 minutes later he walked into the First National Bank and opened a savings account. The teller strongly resembled his Aunt Pearl: excessive rouge, overpowering perfume, and a dress that looked more like a red carpet than a dress. The only thing missing was snuff. Pearl was a dipper.

  Once his banking mission was completed Buddy crossed Main Street to visit the West Point Dime Store for a little window shopping. There wasn’t really anything that he really needed or wanted, but it did help him get a feel for his new surroundings.

  In front of the store, a blind man sat on the sidewalk playing Old Suzanna on a harmonica. Buddy dropped a quarter in a jar and the resulting jingle caused the man to stop. “Thank you, kind sir. God bless you. My name’s Joe. Anything you want to hear?”

  “Pleased to meet you, Joe. I’m Charles. Charles Polk. How about Danny Boy. Do you know that one?”

  Without hesitation, Joe granted Buddy’s request as other’s gathered on the sidewalk for the impromptu concert.

  When the song was over someone in the group complimented Joe’s performance. “Beautiful like always, my friend.”

  Buddy thought her voice sounded strangely familiar. When he turned to see who had struck up a conversation with Joe, he was surprised to see Sally, the waitress. He smiled. She smiled. And Joe wondered why nobody was talking.

  “I know you’re still there,” said Joe. “I hear two hearts beating.”

  “Really?” asked Buddy. “You can hear that?”

  “I hear lots of things. God didn’t give me eyes, but he did give me super hearing. If you ever want to know what’s goin’ on in West Point, just ask me.”

  Somebody else dropped a coin in Joe’s money jar as they walked by, resulting in yet another song from his repertoire.

  Meanwhile, Buddy opened the door for Sally. “Didn’t recognize you at first, without your uniform,” said Buddy.

  “Don’t really need it when I go shopping,” she said stepping out of the way of more shoppers entering the store.

  “Finally able to see you without Eddie getting in the way,” said Buddy while pretending to be interested in a ceramic vase.

  “He’s a mess.”

  They talked as they walked and neither one of them were really into what was on the store shelves. Eventually, Buddy got up the nerve to ask her if she wanted to go somewhere to get something to eat and, much to his relief, she happily accepted his invitation. They agreed on the diner across the street.

  When they walked out of the store, Buddy told Blind Joe to have a good day as did Sally. Then, Joe laughed and responded, “Them hearts are beatin’ faster and faster. Yes, sir. Faster and faster.”

  “So what’s your last name?” asked Buddy as they continued on Main Street.

  “Duffy.”

  “Any relation to Mrs. Lulabelle Duffy?”

  “My grandmother,” replied Sally.

  “No kidding.”

  “How do you know my grandmother?”

  “She’s taking care of my laundry. And I hear you’re fond of sugar cookies.”

  They had no problem finding a table at the West Point Diner after arriving too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. “Shift change,” said the waitress. “We’ll be a few minutes.” Buddy and Sally were just fine with the news. They were enjoying one another’s company immensely.

  They took the extra time to share the condensed version of their life stories. Buddy learned that Sally was born in Norfolk and then her family moved to West Point when she was three and she’s lived there ever since. Her major at William and Mary was history which she said was the perfect field of study for an institution of higher learning that was founded in 1693. She was pretty sure that one of her professors was on staff when the school first opened. Sally had two siblings, Ralph, an older brother, and a 13-year-old pest of a younger brother nicknamed, Icky, real name, Jordan. Her dad worked as a foreman at the shipyard and her mother stayed at home to keep Icky out of trouble. She had a collie, Westmoreland, and a turtle called Flash. Her favorite color was pink and her favorite food was fried shrimp, mashed potatoes, and strawberry milkshakes. And she aspired to be a history teacher maybe at the college level.

  Buddy was pretty sure that in just a half hour with Sally he already knew more about her than he ever knew about Bobbie Jean or Trudy and she was considerably more interesting. He didn’t know why. She just was. And he still believed that they had met previously or that he had seen her somewhere. “I’ll figure it out,” he said. “Ever been to Strasburg?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  When it came time to order, as luck would have it, fried shrimp was on the menu. Buddy played it safe and ordered a cheeseburger and actually got up the nerve to try something that never made it to his mother’s dinner table. After a little coaching on the necessity of removing the tail of a shrimp, he was hooked. They even joined straws and shared a strawberry milkshake.

  Then he filled her in on the details of his life: Eagle Scout, played football and basketball, extremely fond of German Chocolate Cake, and he has an adorable little black dog named Inky.

  “Inky?” said Sally. “Your dog and my brother should get together. Icky and Inky.”

  “Wow. That’s funny,” said Buddy, who then looked over his shoulder to see if there was any progress on their order.

  “Tell me about your parents.”

  “My dad is Charles, Sr., a farmer turned textile worker and my saintly mother is Mable, the world’s greatest cook, and my conscience.”

  “Your conscience?” inquired Sally.

  “Her voice is always bouncing around in my head telling me what’s right and wrong.”

  “Is that voice talking to you right now?”

  “Nope. So far…so good.” And then he disclosed something that he hadn’t talked about since he was twelve. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do with my life yet because…what I would really like to do will never happen.”

  “And that is?”

  “Cartoonist. I would really like to be a cartoonist.”

  “So, why not go for it.?”

  “Mom and Dad think that it’s foolishness. The only kind of work they understand is hard labor.”

  Sally pulled a napkin from the holder on the table and found a pen in her purse. “Here, draw me something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. How about a rabbit?”

  “A rabbit?” said Buddy, who found her choice amusing. “OK. A bunny it is.”

  She tried to watch the progress of his artistry but he hid it from her view.

  “Bow tie?” asked Buddy.

  “Why not.”

  “Shoes?”

  “He’s got to have shoes.”

  A few more strokes of the pen and Buddy’s masterpiece was complete. “Meet, Cheeseburger Bunny,” declared Buddy as he reversed the napkin and pushed it in front of her.

  “How cute,” shrieked Sally with delight. The burger bun for a hat is adorable.” And then Sally proceeded to lecture him on the importance of following your dreams. “At the end of the day, you h
ave to be true to yourself and do what you believe that you were put on this earth to accomplish.”

  Realizing that neither one of them had anything going on for the remainder of the day, they decided to spend more time together. As a result, Buddy was concerned that he had deposited too much of his salary in a savings account to fund their spur-of-the-moment date. One reason that he had previously avoided serious relationships was because dating was expensive. Up until now, he had not found a girl worth the investment.

  They walked and talked all day long. She showed him the historic sites in West Point and when they got tired, they would find a bench or a grassy area and just rest. They drew from one another’s energy and wished the day would never end.

  As 5:00 neared, the couple headed for Mrs. Duffy’s house where Buddy was to pick up his laundry and Sally had planned a surprise visit to her grandmother. “Can’t wait to see Granny’s face,” she said after learning that Lulabelle wasted no time proposing to him. “Granny’s so much fun.”

  She was fun alright. When Buddy and Sally walked through the front door, she yelled out, “How am I supposed to compete with the prettiest girl in West Point? I spent the whole day washin’ and foldin’ your underwear, and this is what I get.” Then she gave both of them a big hug and invited them to stay for supper. “You can watch TV with me, tonight.”

  It was close to 11:30 when Buddy arrived back at his hotel room. Will was already asleep and there were three empty beer bottles on the floor by his bed. The room reeked of cigarette smoke and Buddy concluded that Eddie must have paid them a visit.

  Despite the late hour, Buddy wasn’t ready to call it a day. He had something new and incredible to think about. He sat in the only chair in the room, stared out the window at a faintly lit street light, and replayed the events of the day in his mind. What a day, he thought. But better than what was behind was what was in his future. Sally was packing their lunch and the two of them were meeting the following afternoon for a picnic at Beach Park. It was their first official date and he had a feeling that there would be many more to come.

  The Empty Nest – July 4, 1953