Dust and Roses

by Wes Brummer

  Sara’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t find a way to soften the truth. None. “I decided not to send out an advertisement for a church that doesn’t exist.”

  “You couldn’t…” He stared at the ceiling for a moment then leveled darkened eyes. “You’re fired.”

  Sara closed her eyes. Losing her job was inevitable. But now, it meant Daddy would be overseeing the office and supervising her friends. She had to help them. “You’ll need to hire more workers. Gladys, Marilyn, and Sylvia—they care about their jobs, but they’ll fall behind due to the increasing volume of mail.”

  “They put you up to this. And you expect me to help them?”

  “They care about the fans. That’s all that matters.”

  “You’re harboring their little mutiny.” He smiled, showing uneven teeth. “Firing you may not be enough.”

  Sara sucked in a breath, “What’re you saying?”

  “I’m taking your suggestion. Get new help. But first, I’ll clean house and start from scratch.”

  Sara jumped to her feet, “You can’t! Those are my friends. They’ve worked hard for you, and they’ve created a bond with the fans. Would you destroy that? What would you put in its place? A sweatshop churning out identical letters asking for money?”

  Sam chuckled. “Not a bad idea when you put it that way.”

  Katherine rushed behind her husband, rubbing his shoulders. “Sam, you already have many responsibilities. Hiring and training new people on top of writing and managing your program—it’s not wise. Give the job of running the office to someone else.”

  Sara pointed a finger at her father. “You’ll always be looking for new help once they see what a fraud you are.”

  Only later did Sara piece together what happened next. Her father lurched to a fighting stance, thrusting out his massive hand. He swung his arm around in a sweeping arc. Sara froze, transfixed by the approaching blow. A force shoved her aside. In the next moment, a dull crack of flesh against bone, and Katherine fell to the kitchen floor. For a long moment, she lay unmoving.

  “Mom!” Sara dropped to her knees, cradling her mother’s head. Tears spilled down her cheeks. How could this happen? She moaned. Sara gasped with relief, pulled herself to her feet and rushed to the sink. She ran water over a dishtowel and hurried back to her mother’s side. Daddy deposited her in a kitchen chair. Sara thrust the towel toward him, not daring to say a word.

  He dabbed at his wife’s swelling cheek. “How could you do such a stupid thing? You knew she had it coming, and you still stepped in the way? Why?”

  Katherine groaned, taking the towel and pressing it against her jaw. “You can’t hurt her, Sam.” Her voice was barely understandable.

  Her father scowled. “I wasn’t going to hurt her, but someone has to teach her a lesson.”

  She focused on her husband. “You can’t.”

  He crossed his arms. “And why not?”

  Sara bowed her head. “I carry a child.”

  Chapter Five

  “I can’t believe this!” Samuel McGurk paced the kitchen, waving his arms while Sara held a cold towel to her mother’s jaw. “I’ve given you a job, paid you a wage, and this is the thanks I get? You’ve brought shame to this family. You’ve brought shame to me. Critics watch every word I say. They’re waiting for me to make a mistake. And you’ve given them a gift! A pastor with a disgraced daughter under his roof. I could lose everything. All because of your irresponsibility. You’ll have to leave. Sooner the better.”

  “I’ll write my sister in Hutchinson.” Katherine spoke slowly, her voice muffled. “Once Sara has the baby, she can give the child up for adoption. She should be able to return home.”

  Sara shook her head. Not my baby. “Mother…”

  Katherine shot her a glance. “Not now.”

  McGurk rubbed his chin. “I don’t like it. Word can still get out. I want her in a sanitarium. Somewhere secure where the staff can be trusted to keep quiet. The Meisenheimer Clinic might work.”

  Katherine’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

  Sara balled her hands into tight fists. “I won’t go. But there may be room in that sanitarium for you.”

  Her father whirled around, his eyes frosty. “That’s it. You’re leaving tonight. Now, I have work to do. I expect you to be gone when I come out.” With that, he stalked out of the kitchen to his office, slamming the door.

  Katherine stood in shock. Sara rushed to embrace her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push him.”

  Her mother wiped silent tears. “We need to think. Is there a place you can stay tonight?”

  “There’s Gladys—but she’s gone this weekend.”

  “Go upstairs and pack some clothes. I’ll see about where you can stay.”

  “I can’t leave you like this. You jaw is swollen.”

  “You have to. Now go.” She released Sara.

  A minute later, Sara was in her room throwing clothes in a carpetbag. Michael appeared at her bedroom door. “We heard yelling downstairs. Sounds like Dad’s all fired up.”

  Sara sighed. “We had an argument. He would have boxed my ear if mother hadn’t stepped in the way.”

  “Wait’ll Jay hears about this!” Michael raced out of the room.

  Moments later, both boys stood at her door. Sara related the events downstairs. “You might as well know. In seven months I’m having a baby. That’s what set him off.”

  “You mean we’ll be uncles?” Michael’s eyes grew large.

  Jason gave a low whistle, glancing at his sister. “That would do it.”

  Sara packed her box of stationery. “Anyway, he’s kicked me out. Seems I’m a threat to his radio career.”

  Jason took the bulky container from her. “I’ll carry it. Where do you need to go?”

  “There’s a flop house,” said Sara, “near the tracks on Lincoln. They might have a place for women.”

  Jason gave a rueful grin, “Fat chance. Mom’ll have a better idea.” He carried the bag downstairs with Sara following.

  Her mother was waiting. “I’ve got a sheet, a couple of blankets, and a pillow. Is that couch still in the back of the office?”

  “It’s still there.”

  “Good. I’ve got a spare key. Leave your keys on the table for your father to find.” She touched her jaw. “Here’s some money for train fare. I’ve called the depot. Two trains run daily to Hutchinson. One at 10:05 in the morning and the other at 4:45 p.m. Call here tomorrow and tell me your plans. I can send my sister a telegram before your arrival.”

  “Mom, you should take some aspirin.”

  “Already done that.”

  “I’m not sure I want to go to Hutchinson.”

  “They can help you. Now promise you’ll call.”

  Jason lifted her bag. “I’ll run this to the car.” The screen door banged shut behind him as he left.

  “I promise.”

  Their time was growing short. Katherine stepped forward, hugging Sara. “Please forgive your father. When he first started, he was grateful to preach before a small church. Now, he has this burning desire for fame. Nothing else matters and it scares me. I’ve had dreams of his career falling like a house of cards. And your father was the last to know he was ruined.”

  “Why is Daddy so afraid of me?”

  Katherine closed her eyes. “He frets about everyone he meets: you, the boys, the radio station, even me. But most of all, I think he’s afraid of himself. That he’ll make a mistake.”

  Jason returned, gathering up the blankets and pillow.

  “Sara will be out in a minute,” Katherine told him.

  As Jason left, Katherine and Sara embraced, tears flowing down both their cheeks. “Be careful. I love you Sara.”

  “I love you too.”

  As Sara stepped to the Model A, she turned to wave goodbye. In the gathering dusk, she saw her mother behind the screen door. She looked like a trapped creature. A minute later, Jason backed the car out of the drive, turned
onto the street and drove away.

  ****

  Sara sat staring out the window as Jason drove through the downtown streets. Bands of light and shadows chased through the interior as they passed beneath Wichita’s newly installed electric streetlights. Jason half-turned to her, but kept his eyes on the road. “I wish I could have been there. I could have stopped the argument.”

  “Be glad you weren’t.” Sara gave him a sideways glance. “You’d be looking for a place to stay as well.”

  Jason stopped at a traffic light. “Pop’s changed, hasn’t he? This idea of being heard all across the country has really taken hold of him.”

  “Daddy’s wrapped up in his dream. You and Michael take care of Mom. Help her with dishes, the housecleaning, and doing the laundry. Don’t let her feel like she’s alone.”

  “I know. It’s easy to take Mom for granted.” Jason turned onto Douglas Avenue. “But this should all blow over. Pop hates to admit mistakes. Tomorrow, he’ll act like nothing ever happened. By Monday, he’ll be grumbling why you’re not answering his mail.” Jason glanced at her. “Right?”

  “Not this time. Things have gone too far.”

  “You could find work at one of the big stores downtown.”

  Sara sighed, her eyes downcast. “For another month, maybe. After that, it’s going to become obvious I’m expecting.”

  Jason watched the streets ahead. “This is a strange question. But I’m curious. How does it feel?”

  “How does what feel?”

  Jason hesitated, working his lower lip. “I wouldn’t ask if you weren’t my sister. But how does it feel…to be a mother?”

  Sara arched her brows, looking baffled. Then burst into laughter and scooted next to her brother, slapping his knee.

  “I didn’t mean to sound stupid.”

  “Oh Jay, it’s not you. I’ve been jumping from one thing to the next all day and haven’t had a chance to think about my feelings.”

  Jason turned onto Broadway. “Can I ask…who’s the father?”

  “His name’s Larry. He works at Bigger’s Mercantile downtown. His father owns the store.”

  “Did he eat supper with us last Christmas?”

  Sara nodded. “He entertained Daddy all evening with jokes.”

  They were moving through the southern end of the business district now. Ahead were mostly darkened buildings.

  “I never realized how creepy this part of town is at night,” Jason said. “Will you be okay?”

  “I promise to lock the doors.” She swatted his arm. “Don’t be a mother hen.”

  “I’ve got some change. You’ll need to eat.”

  “Mom gave me some money. Thank you, though.”

  The electric lights gave way to occasional spots of illumination that dotted the area.

  “You can always go through the mail and pull out donations. Nobody would know. That’s how Pop is paying for his fancy car.”

  Sara’s jaw dropped. “Be careful who you say that to. That money is for Daddy’s Church of the South Wind—whenever that will be.” She sighed. “I couldn’t do that, anyway.”

  Jason shrugged. “You’re right. I was thinking how a person could get back at him.”

  The Kramer Building loomed ahead. Office lights burned on the first floor. Sara pointed. “The bookie’s working tonight.”

  “I wish you had a telephone.” Jason pulled to the front door. The glass reflected the car’s headlights.

  “There’s one in the diner across the street.”

  They entered the building. Sara carried her travel bag while Jason held the blankets and pillow. She unlocked the Mailroom, entered, and turned on the lights. She dropped her bag to the floor. Jason flung the bedding onto the couch. Sara turned to him. “Thanks, Jay.”

  Jason glanced around. “At least you got a radio.”

  “There’s also a washroom down the hall.”

  Jason grunted. “All the comforts of home.” He stepped forward and embraced her. “You take care of yourself. And call home tomorrow, or I’ll come looking for you.”

  “Mom’s given me the lecture.” Sara smiled. “Now get, you big worrywart, or Daddy’ll take away those car keys.”

  Jason left the office, averting his face. Two minutes a horn tooted, and the clatter of the Model A merged with the rest of the evening sounds outsides her open widows.

  Sara locked the door, flipped off the lights and made her way to the couch. She clicked on the radio and busied herself with making her bed. Outside, a dog growled at an intruder, and a trashcan in the alley tipped over. Was someone outside? Sara listened, staying clear of the window. Soon, the barking faded. Somehow, the silence seemed more intimidating than the clatter. She turned up the radio, hoping to impede the encroaching night.

  Could Mother’s dream come true? Could Daddy’s career fall like a house of cards? It seemed impossible. His fame was about to skyrocket with plump fees for speaking engagements, product endorsements, and book deals. Daddy’s future seemed secure.

  And what about her? Her work as a office supervisor was over. The world that seemed so ordinary that morning had turned into a tempest, propelling her into uncharted waters. What was she to do? Strike out on some new course? She couldn’t. Not yet. She needed to see Larry one last time. Give him one last chance to do the right thing. If he wouldn’t listen, that left staying with her aunt and uncle in Hutchinson. To lose her child would be terrible. But to learn too late that she could keep her baby—that would be unbearable.

  Chapter Six

  “In closing, friends, I wish to extend prayers to the beleaguered in hostile lands. To the Jew in Germany. To the Christian in Russia. To the tribal peasant in Iran. May they overcome their persecutors and find peace.

  “But most of all, I want to extend my prayers to the people of the United States. To the struggling American farmer, fighting to save his land. To the laborer, who has lost his job. And to the mass of humanity roaming this country in search of work.

  “All of these people are abandoned. They are abandoned because Washington is not letting the Depression take its natural course. We have an administration that thinks it can fix everything but the weather. The New Dealers want to control business as well as government, and it is the American people who must pay the price. Even our Congress is swooned by the promise of prosperity. A promise from a president who has failed to make a difference.

  “Thomas Jefferson once said, ‘In matters of style, swim with the current; in matters of principle, stand like a rock.’

  “So, friends, I’m asking you; is this a government of style? Or is it a government of principle? Have you seen signs of happier days? Believe me when I say there are those who are getting fat from this Depression. You’ve worked hard, yet there is never enough food on the table. Is FDR helping you? Or is he crooning in your ear while your tax money goes in someone else’s pocket?

  “Alexander Hamilton died in a duel, and yet his style of big government lives. Thomas Jefferson was president, yet his principles of small government are dead. Isn’t it time we turned things around?”

  ~Excerpt from the Heaven and Earth radio broadcast

  Sunday, 7 April 1935

  Sara awoke early, washed in the lavatory down the hall, and headed across the street to the Farmland Café. She found a stool at the front counter and ordered breakfast from a waitress wearing a starched blue uniform. The waitress was her mom’s age with short graying hair, much in the style of ten years ago. The name embroidered on her lapel read CARRIE. Ten minutes later, Carrie slid a plate before her. “Careful, Missy. Plate’s hot.”

  As she ate, Sara pondered her visit with Larry. Would he see reason? Or fail her? His father wouldn’t stand for such nonsense. Gerald Bigger was a man of integrity. But should she use him as a way of getting at Larry? Was forcing a man into marriage a good idea? How best to approach him?

  With breakfast over, Sara fished a nickel from her handbag and made her way to the phone booth near the entrance. She p
icked up the receiver, deposited the coin, and rang through to the operator. “Could you connect me to City Cab?” A minute later, the dispatcher came on the line. “I’d like a taxi at the Farmland Café, 1610 South Broadway. Thank you.”

  Sara returned to her seat. The mirror behind the back counter gave her a good view outside. As she drank her coffee, Carrie stopped to refill her cup.

  “Can I pay for my meal now? My cab could show up anytime.”

  The waitress flipped open a ticket book. “That’ll be forty cents with the coffee.”

  Sara placed two quarters on the counter. “Keep it.”

  “Thanks, Missy. Cabs run slow on Sundays. You might be waiting a while.”

  Sara nodded. Another customer left his newspaper on the counter beside her. Fearing the waitress was right, Sara spread the paper before her and settled in for a long wait.

  The front-page story was about the new bus station near the Innes Department Store. After months of construction, it would open tomorrow morning. All city buses would meet in one central location. That would make getting home a lot easier. Except she couldn’t go home anymore. Another article related news about an engineer working on a system for sending and receiving moving images over cable. He called the system “television.”

  A car honked outside. Sara glanced at the mirror. A cab sat in front of the restaurant. She grabbed her purse and bag, bustled out the front door, and entered the cab. “I’d like to go to 1217 River Boulevard.”

  The taxi drove northeast to Wichita’s Riverside area, following the winding road that bordered the low waters of the Little Arkansas River. The street followed a wide bend, and stopped in front of a modest two-story Craftsmen-style house facing the water. Sara paid the driver and carried her bag up the steps to the front door. Gerald’s La Salle was gone, but Larry’s silver Roadster sat in the driveway. Biting her lip, she ascended the steps and knocked on the screen door.

  A long moment passed before the inside door flew open. Larry leaned on the doorframe, rubbing his brow. Unshaven, red-eyed, and wearing nothing but a long nightshirt, he squinted through the screen door. “You could have told me I was supposed to come home after work yesterday.” Larry rubbed bloodshot eyes.