Love's Challenge

by Aubrey Wynne

  This was a rare exception for such a reserved man. A sliver of pride poked at Joe’s heart. “On behalf of my family, I’m honored, sir.”

  Ridiculous to have a lump in his throat over a dinner invitation. But Joe knew what it had cost Mr. Walters to allow outsiders into his sanctuary. “I’ll ask Shirley if there is anything we can bring.”

  “Oh, I doubt it. My wife is more organized than a five-star general, but she’ll appreciate the gesture.” He took another puff and made perfect “o’s” that drifted slowly away. Both men watched the circle recede, uncomfortable in the stillness. “If… Well, if there’s anything I can ever help you or your father with, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Joe blinked. For the second time in fifteen minutes, he had seen a glimpse of the father Laura Beth loved. “Thank you sir, I’m grateful for the offer.” He thought, Can you keep me out of the army? Or tell your daughter for me that I have to leave right after the holidays?

  “What in the world are my two favorite men talking about in here?” Laura floated in like a spring breeze and attached herself to Joe’s side. “Man to man without me?” She batted her eyes like a precocious child.

  “We were just talking about Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh, Daddy. I knew it would all work out.” Laura jumped up and threw her arms around his neck, kissing both cheeks.

  “Now, don’t embarrass your old man in front of company.” He chuckled, a lopsided smile on his face. “What movie are you going to see?”

  “High Noon, sir, with Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly.” He’d been a Cooper fan since he’d seen Pride of the Yankees as a kid. He always thought Laura Beth was a darker version of Grace.

  “I love a good western. You kids enjoy yourselves.” He picked up his newspaper, gave it a snap, and opened the first page.

  It had taken three years, but Mr. Walters had finally accepted him.

  They settled into their seats with a Coke, just as the big red velvet curtains parted across the stage. The projector clicked on above, the filtered light spun across the room and a newsreel began. Joe saw the headline and couldn’t breathe.

  U.S. ARMY QUARTERMASTER AERIAL SUPPLY OPERATIONS

  What did he expect? Of course the war would be the main topic of a newsreel. He sunk down in the seat, leaning his head back and preparing for the images. The first clips were American soldiers manning small cannon and machine guns. The blasts made him jerk. Then a unit in combat, some with rifles and camouflaged helmets, leaned against the man-made trenches; others took chances jumping from cover to throw out hand grenades. Dirt and debris sprayed the air like a mini volcano. Platoons moved across barren land, left open and naked from explosions and battle. The newscast began:

  “A battle is being fought… Our men are pushing ahead sure and fast.”

  Then the screen showed tanks standing still, machine guns quiet, and men at rest in foxholes. “Why?” asked the narrator. “The answer is distressingly simple. This combat team has run out of fuel and supplies.”

  Joe’s stomach lurched, and he swallowed down the sour taste rising in his throat. The film made his letter all too real. He was no coward, but he wasn’t a fool. Nobody wanted to be a casualty of war. He would do his duty just as his father had done. But his family had suffered enough loss and the thought of taking another man’s life turned his stomach. He closed his eyes and tried to picture himself pulling a trigger, another man going down, screaming in pain. Moisture curled down his back.

  “Joey, hon, are you all right? You look downright green.” She put the back of her cool fingers to his cheek. “Are you sure you want to stay?”

  “It’s just some bad salami from lunch. I’ll be right back.”

  The audience watched as parachutes spiraled down with supplies for the stranded troops. He rushed to the men’s room to splash water on his face. Stay here until the newsreel is over and you’ll be fine, he told himself. He returned to the darkened theater just as the movie was beginning. He pasted on a smile, sank into the seat, and put his arm around Laura Beth. She leaned her head against him and snuggled close. Her warmth seeped into his cold skin. His shoulders relaxed. He might as well enjoy this film. It may be his last for a long time.

  They strolled out of the theater with fingers entwined. Laura Beth skipped a step to match his pace, singing the theme song of High Noon in a terrible imitation of a cowboy crooner.

  “Do not forsake me oh my darlin’, on this our wedding day…”

  Her face, turned up to him, looked so kissable that he bent down and touched his lips to hers. She smiled and sighed, the faint smell of peppermint hitting his nose. Would they have a wedding day? he wondered.

  “Where do you think we’ll be in another year?” Laura Beth asked, starting one of their favorite games. “I think California would be peachy. Or we could try Chicago and have a white Christmas.”

  “Mmhmm. Sure.”

  She tipped back her head and peered up at him. “Or maybe we could build a hut in New Guinea and wear grass skirts with no underwear.”

  “Sounds keen.” He bit back a smile.

  Laura punched his arm.

  “Ouch,” he said, rubbing his arm. “What did I do?”

  “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. What are you thinking about?”

  “I guess I’m just tired.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “How about we go for a drive and make out in the backseat?”

  She poked him his rib. “How about a cheeseburger and a kiss in the front seat? I have class tomorrow, remember?”

  “Your dad actually told me that us McCalls are welcome any time. What magic potion did you put in his coffee?”

  She giggled at the thought. “I always said you’d see his soft side someday.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but he definitely came off as more human.”

  The diner was loud and packed. High school kids surrounded the jukebox. Two couples in a corner were dancing to “Botch A Me.” Laura acted out the lyrics as Rosemary Clooney sang “You squeeza me and I’ll squeeza you…”

  Joe kissed the top of her head and pulled her into a red leather booth. He tapped his foot on the black and white checkered floor while he studied the menu.

  “What’s the word from the bird? How was the movie?” Betsy Schroeder slid into the other side of the booth and sighed dramatically. “Gary Cooper is such a flutter bum.”

  “It was so intense at the end. The whole town—”

  “Ice it! I haven’t seen it yet, remember?” Betsy covered her ears, her long black ponytail waving frantically. “Roger and I are going this weekend. Is your father still agreeing to Thanksgiving?”

  Laura nodded. “He even told Joey that the McCalls are welcome anytime.”

  Betsy’s green eyes sparkled with mischief. “So you should have Leroy move into the guest room. That’ll show him no good deed goes unpunished!”

  Joe rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m hungry and ready to order. Did you want something, Betsy?”

  He waved at Nancy behind the counter and hoped Laura’s friend wasn’t staying. Since they’d only shared a Coke at the theater, he still had a dollar left in his wallet. That would be fine for two but stretching it for three.

  “Thanks but I’ve got to run. I’ll bring over that magazine later with the dress I told you about.”

  The waitress arrived with a pad in hand, her apron smudged with chocolate fudge and mustard. She pulled the pencil from her red hair, put the tip to her tongue, and blew a frizzy curl from her eye.

  “What’ll it be, lovebirds?”

  “I think I’ll have a toasted cheese and a Coke, please.” Laura handed the menu back to Joe.

  “No pie?” Nancy smiled. “We have a slice of chocolate cream left.”

  “Goodness, no. I’m saving myself for Mom’s pecan pie. Thanksgiving is in two days.”

  Joe added the numbers in his head, thirty cents. He scratched in his pants pocket for some loose nuggets and felt a couple more d
imes. With ninety cents left, Joe ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a Dr Pepper. He had meant to eat before the movie but after that epistle from the selective service… Now his stomach growled in protest.

  Nancy finished scribbling the order, stuck the pencil behind her ear again then put a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Sorry about your mother, hon. She was a real fine lady.”

  “Thanks. It’s been hardest on Leroy.” He elbowed Laura Beth. “She’ll have her hands full with that kid.”

  When they were alone again, Joe leaned back against the old cracked leather and watched the ceiling fan swirl in slow motion.

  “Joey, did you hear about Harley Fields?” Laura unbuttoned her sweater and slid it around her shoulders. “He’s missing in action. I hope that war in Korea is over soon. That’s the second local boy we’ve lost.”

  Her words were a sucker punch he hadn’t seen coming. His tongue was thick; he couldn’t form words.

  “Did you hear me? Poor Mrs. Fields, it was her only boy.” She put the back of her hand to his forehead. “You’re sweating again, sugar. I think you may be coming down with something.”

  He nodded numbly. “But MIA doesn’t mean dead. They might still find him.”

  She snorted. “How often does that happen? But I hope so. I remember him as a kid, all orange hair and freckles.”

  “He was head of the track team.” Joe wondered what folks would say about him if he never returned. His heart constricted and a chill went through him. “Let’s talk about something more cheerful, huh?”

  She took his hand under the table. “Sure. What would you like for Christmas? You know I hate waiting until the last minute. And I’ll need help with your dad and brother.”

  “Of course, but more importantly, what do you want?” The holidays had taken on a whole new importance since this afternoon. He had to make this Christmas perfect for Laura Beth. “Anything your little heart desires, darlin’,” he said, pinching her chin.

  “Truly?”

  “Truly.”

  “You. I want to be Mrs. Joey McCall.”

  He opened his mouth, and she put a hand over his lips. “I know, but it’s really the only thing that could make me any happier.”

  Joe’s mind whirled with possibilities by the time their food arrived. Maybe he could give her that for Christmas. He knew his girl. She’d rather be the widowed Mrs. McCall than the girlfriend of a dead soldier. And he’d rather sit in a foxhole somewhere with the sweet memories of a wedding night to keep him company instead of backseat Bingo.

  Part of the heaviness fell from his shoulders—a relief of sorts, that he could give her a part of him before he left. Offer her some type of comfort for the pain he would cause her in a month. Pa would know what to do.

  Chapter 5

  “You don’t choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.”

  Desmond Tutu

  “Set the table with the Russell Wright china, bring my the gravy boat, and fill the cream and sugar pots for after-dinner cofee. And thank you for polishng the silver yesterday. I don’t know how I’d finish all of this without you.” Shirley hooked a floral print apron carefully over her daughter’s hair and tied the strings behind her. Laura wore a deep purple dress with a full skirt and black satin beads along the collar.

  “It’s the least I can do after adding three to the guest list.”

  “Oh, pish-posh. We always buy a huge bird anyway. It will just be a few less leftovers.”

  Glenn walked into the kitchen, handsome in his navy suit and crisp white shirt. He fingered the miniature turkey tie clip. “Thank you, ladies, for the festive accessory. And don’t you look lovely in that shade of blue, sweetheart.”

  Laura was amazed that her mother still blushed at his compliments. She smiled as Mom’s fingers ran along the string of pearls at her neck.

  “I declare he’s up to something, Laura Beth, with all these compliments. Or maybe into the leftover bourbon I didn’t use in the praline pie?” She grabbed a potholder and opened the oven door. The heavenly scent of roasting bird wafted in the air.

  “I do believe you have outdone yourself.” He stuck his nose inside the door and breathed in a lungful of air. “I can smell the cornbread dressing. Mm-Mmm.”

  “You say the same thing every year.” She swatted his hand as he tried to pull of a piece of the crispy brown skin. He managed a chunk of the sizzling cornbread and shook his fingers after he popped in his mouth. “You’ll deserve that blister! Now out of my kitchen while I finish up. And where is the music you promised me?”

  He fiddled with the radio knob, crackles and static mixing with mumbled voices until Bing Crosby floated through the kitchen. “I’ve got plenty to be thankful for…” All three hummed along and went back to their designated chores.

  Thirty minutes later, tires crunched on the gravel outside, accompanied by slamming doors and muffled male voices. “We’re here, Beth. We made it,” yelled Leroy through the windows. She saw the top of his baseball cap as he tried to jump up and wave through the kitchen window.

  “Honey, get the door!”

  “No, I’ve got it, Mom.” She ran to the front hall and almost collided with her father. “Sorry, Daddy. I just thought—”

  “Go ahead, I’d rather be greeted by a pretty young girl too.”

  She opened the door, and Leroy threw his arms around her. “Hi Beth, I’m sure starved, it smells so good in here. Hiya, Mr. Walters,” he said, stopping to take a breath and hold out his hand.

  “Welcome, son,” her father said in a formal voice, extending his own palm. “Glad you could join us.”

  Joe reached out and snatched the hat off his little brother’s head. “Not in the house, remember?”

  The men finished their greetings and went into the family room. A fire burned cheerfully, and Laura’s mom appeared with a plate of deviled eggs. Her father valiantly began a conversation about football. “So the Texans are going against the Bears today in Ohio. Do you think they stand a chance?” he asked Mr. McCall.

  “I doubt it with the lousy record they’ve got, but it’s their first year. They haven’t won a game in nine.”

  Joe piped in. “The game I’d like to see is the Lions and the Packers. Now that’ll have some plays.”

  And with the common denominator of football, they fell into an easy conversation as they munched on deviled eggs. Laura let out the breath she’d been holding. Her mother gave her a wink as she handed Leroy lemonade, poured a small amount of bourbon into three tumblers then passed them to the men.

  Later, Laura asked Leroy if he would help her carry the turkey into the dining room. He had matured over the last year and was tall for seven, his arms and legs lean but wiry. Her mother had worried it might be too heavy, but Laura knew the strength in the growing boy. The women shared a secret glance of satisfaction at the crooked grin that spread across his face. Eyes focused on the bird, teeth biting his lower lip, Leroy walked slowly from the kitchen until he reached Mr. Walters chair at the head of the table. He stood with a large fork and carving knife in his hand.

  “Well done. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a nicer Thanksgiving bird, have you?” Her father hesitated and looked at Max, holding out the utensils. “Did you want the honors?”

  Laura swallowed the lump in her throat. Daddy had gone above and beyond for her today. Mom said he had worried all week. And here he was, offering to let another man take his place carving the turkey. As she looked around the table, she said her own silent prayer of thanks.

  “Why, I thank you Glenn, but Dixie’s family always had ham on Thanksgiving. I’m afraid I’d just massacre that beautiful turkey.”

  Glenn nodded, Shirley began the blessing, and the meal went off without a hitch.

  Joe opened the box that had belonged to his grandmother. The sterling silver band had an intricate design of scrollwork on each side with tiny sapphires worked into the metal. A small diamond sparkled in the center. He had never given Laura Beth a real engag
ement ring. Laura Beth would think it was beautiful and appreciate the heirloom. He also knew she would see it as a consolation prize. It was, he admitted to himself as he snapped the box closed and put it in his pants pocket.

  The porch door squeaked open. The scent of lavender preceded her. It always reminded him of summer and love. She settled next to him, her head on his shoulder, her fingers entwined in his. The knot is his stomach twisted and doubled. Yesterday had been a success. Pa had even invited Mr. Walters to stop by the garage, saying there was always a cold Lone Star in the office fridge at closing time.

  “Laura Beth, I need to tell you something.” His fingers tightened around hers, and she nodded against his arm.

  “I know.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He wondered if he were that easy to read.

  “Something has been bothering you since we went to the movie.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ve known you since I was six. Of course I sense when you’re troubled.”

  “It’s about our future.” This was it. Time to spill the beans. “Plans have changed again.”

  Eyes the color of a perfect summer sky gazed at him with pure joy. “Your father found the money to send you back to the university? I know it’s late, but maybe you could stay through the summer to finish up. We could still be married next fall.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head, not wanting to witness the anguish that would soon cloud those sunflower orbs.

  “Joey, honey? What is it?” Trepidation laced her tone. “Whatever it is, we’ll work it out together like we always do.”

  “I got my draft notice.”

  She was stunned. Her face froze into a blank expression like those dummies in the department store windows. He waited for his announcement to sink in, pulling her to him. He needed to give her strength now. It was his turn.

  Several birds chirped and argued; the chains on the swing whined as they swayed forward and back; a car rumbled by. Her breathing fell evenly against his chest, her body soft and limp. And then the first tears soaked his shirt. He let her cry, holding her close. A soft breeze pushed an auburn curl against her wet cheek. He brushed it away and kissed the top of her head.