Good-Bye
I called a number of state agencies and lawyers, looking for someone who could put a stop to what was happening. Everyone I talked with gave me the same response.
“Sorry, but I don’t see much you can do.”
I went to every bank in Virgil’s Find, hoping to find someone who would give me a large enough loan to entice some lawyer to take our case. No luck. Every bank saw me as way too big a risk. Around noon I called home. My mother insisted that she hadn’t heard from my father in a while. She then questioned me about the marked-up wedding announcement she had just received in the mail.
“You’re not married, are you?”
“No.”
“Well, I find this in poor taste.”
“Leonard sent the announcements out.”
“Oh,” she said with relief. “People would expect this from him. He has the most interesting sense of humor.”
“Mom, do you have any money I could borrow?” I asked.
“Are you in trouble?”
“No, but Thelma’s Way is.”
“Son, you know how tight things are.”
“They are?”
“I’m not sure. Your father handles all the money.”
I was tired of talking.
“Mom, if Dad calls or shows up, will you tell him I need to speak with him?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t forget,” I begged. “Last time it took you days to give him my message.”
“Trust, watch how you speak to your mother,” she chided. “But that reminds me. Sister Cravitz told me a while back that you might want to watch out for her niece. She said she was heading your way. Cindy is her name. Apparently, she’s not the nicest person. I know we shouldn’t judge, but remember when I gave Sister Barns the benefit of the doubt. I knew her hair was colored.”
“Mom.”
“Yes, Son?”
“If you had told me about Cindy earlier I could have avoided a lot of misery.”
“I can’t always be there to dry your tears and wipe your nose.”
We hung up, and I hiked back. The clouds moved in and began to push one another around. Rain looked inevitable. When I got to the meadow, the Knapworths were packed and preparing to hike out of town for good.
“You can’t go,” I pleaded as rain began to fall.
“Trust, honey, the town is disappearing,” Sister Knapworth said in comforting tones. “Our place is half flooded already.”
“Aren’t you at least staying for the funeral?” I asked.
“I just hate good-byes,” she said. “See you.”
They walked off hand in hand while I glumly made my way over to the chapel. The funeral for Thelma’s Way would be starting soon. People were filing into the building and taking their places. It was obvious that no one here owned any suitable-for-funeral umbrellas. I saw pink and purple ones, a few with cartoon characters, and one with a dog face and ears sewn onto it. Most everyone was wearing black. Digby had covered his whole body with plumber’s tape. Nippy Ward was sporting a trash bag with arm holes, and Ed was wearing his mother’s black bathrobe.
I had never noticed Ed’s dandruff problem before.
Sister Heck and some of the other Relief Society sisters had decorated the place with old bed sheets, draping them over everything except the benches. There was a closed casket lying on a table near the front. I assumed it was there simply for effect. It looked oddly familiar, however. Teddy Yetch had put together a couple of big floral arrangements in two of her larger pots. Unfortunately, Thelma’s Way didn’t have much to offer in the way of flowers right now, so the vases were crammed with weeds and long twigs. Right inside the front door was an easel with a large piece of poster board propped up on it. The poster board was covered with pictures of Thelma’s Way that the local children had drawn. Most of them had colored a rough sketch of the meadow with a knife stabbed into it. Greg Bickerstaff had shown some originality by making his meadow get hanged. No matter how they drew it, Thelma’s Way was dying.
I slipped in and took a seat near the back of the chapel next to Grace and Leonard. Sister Heck had been so busy putting this thing together that she had asked Narlette to play the piano so that she could fuss up until the last minute. Narlette wasn’t bad, but the only song she knew was “Music Box Dancer.” It sort of made the whole funeral feel way too peppy.
President Heck stood up and welcomed everyone.
“We are gathered here to not only mourn the loss but to celebrate the life of Thelma’s Way. This is a time of great sadness and great joy. For we are blessed to know that our town isn’t really gone.”
“I love Mormon funerals,” Janet Bickerstaff whispered to Teddy. “They’re always so uplifting.”
“First off, we will hear a few words from Roswell,” President Heck announced.
Roswell stood and walked to the front. He rubbed his old hands across the empty coffin and wept. After a few minutes of him crying, President Heck walked up and whispered something in his ear. Roswell turned and faced us all.
“You don’t understand,” he snapped. “Most of you haven’t been here as long as I have. That’s what makes you ignorant. I’m not crying because I’m some sissy boy who lost his frog down a culvert. I’m crying cause I’ll probably end up in some fancy house in Virgil’s Find. A house with curtains and finished ceilings. I don’t want that. I made do this long—why should I be forced to see what I’ve been missing all my life? It will only make me mad that I didn’t move out sooner. So, you see, my memory of Thelma’s Way will be ruined. Amen.”
He sat down.
“Thank you, Roswell.” President Heck wiped at his eyes. “We will now be honored to see a special slide presentation by Paul.”
Paul wheeled out a serving cart from the kitchen with a slide projector on it. He then unwound a long cord and handed it to Toby, who passed it down his pew so that the far person could plug it in. Once it was plugged in, Ed hit the lights and Paul pressed play on a small tape recorder. Poorly recorded flute music filled the room as Paul flashed pictures up on the wall. There was one of the meadow during what looked to be a Christmas celebration. Another showed Ed riding his old motorcycle with long ropes tied on the end of it. The third picture was of President Heck eating a big piece of watermelon. I actually found myself becoming emotional.
“Are you crying?” Grace whispered.
“No,” I sniffed.
It was obvious that Paul had no more than three actual slides, because he just kept showing those three over and over until the song mercifully stopped. The lights were flicked on, the cord retracted, and the cart wheeled away, all without incident. Unless, of course, you consider the twelve people who were sitting in the row where the cord was ripped back getting wire welts an “incident.”
“Thank you, Paul,” President Heck said. “Now comes the tough part. How do you eulogize a town like Thelma’s Way?”
I was curious how a person eulogizes any town.
“I hope my future son-in-law doesn’t mind me using him as an example,” President Heck said.
I nodded, signaling that I didn’t.
“When Trust first came here, he was miserable. I remember his face when old Feeble had one of his visions. He pointed right at poor Trust and promised him things would change.” President Heck picked up a Kleenex and blew. He then looked around for someplace to put the used tissue. Seeing no good place, he stuck it into his front pocket. “Well, things changed for Feeble soon after that. He died. It took a bit longer for Trust to fulfill his part of the prophecy, but he did. The boy that’s marrying my daughter is a far cry today from the kid that entered this valley a few years ago. And you know what switched him around?”
Lupert raised his hand.
“Yes, Lupert?”
“My dad said that it’s okay to fish on Sunday if you’re hungry.”
President Heck smiled at him as if he had answered perfectly. “Thelma’s Way changed him,” he answered himself. He took another tissue and blew
. “I know that we will all survive. Heck, we might even discover there are things about someplace else that we like better than here. But we will never know what could have been if this place had been allowed to live.”
Everyone nodded. President Heck blew—his pockets were getting fuller. Rain beat against the roof as we all thought about what might have been if only our town hadn’t been taken at such a young age.
“I remember what Feeble used to say about this place,” President Heck continued. “He said that God led Thelma here so that we all might enjoy the blessings of her bad decision. Well, I’ve enjoyed my share and then some.” He blew. “I don’t know what I’ll do without the meadow or the Girth River. Can’t imagine Christmas without seeing snow up on Lush Point or us all getting together in the boardinghouse to pick apart Teddy’s food. Even this old church building will be sorely missed.” He honked twice. “But as sad as all that is,” he sniffed, “it would be even sadder if any of us ever forgot what we once had here. Will you remember?” he shouted.
“I will,” Toby stood.
“Me too,” Teddy hollered.
One by one, everyone stood up and made it known that whatever happened, no matter where they were, or how many other things they forgot, they would always remember Thelma’s Way.
“She was like a town to me,” Roswell wailed.
“I never got a chance to say I’m sorry,” Pete stood and said soberly. I tried to imagine what he thought he had to be sorry for.
After everyone had their say, President Heck closed his remarks. It was just in the nick of time—tissues were beginning to spill out of his pockets. He then had Toby say a closing prayer. It was obvious that Toby was operating on “autoprayer.”
“And please bless that our town will get better.”
After the benediction, Sister Heck opened the coffin, and we all shuffled by it and looked inside. I don’t know what I was expecting to see, but what I saw was simply a couple handfuls of Thelma’s Way dirt. We then left the chapel and sat out in the hall eating small pieces of really thick cheesecake and looking out the door at the rain.
“It was a beautiful service,” Mavis said.
“That was my coffin,” Roswell bragged. “Paul spotted it when he was washed down river. He dragged it back for me. I figured the least I could do was give it to Thelma’s Way.”
“Mighty charitable,” Leonard commended him.
“I’ll miss this place,” Frank admitted.
“I can’t imagine living anywhere else,” Teddy said with tears in her eyes.
“Me neither,” Briant moaned.
“Let’s try to look on the bright side,” Sister Watson said, looking at me.
I had decided not to tell folks her secret unless it was absolutely necessary. I knew that somewhere in her bald head she felt she had simply exercised tough love.
Even though we were inside, Pete pulled out one of his guns and pointed it into the air to try to make things feel better.
It misfired.
Halfway through my second piece of cheesecake I noticed that the small cabin where I had once lived, and the Knapworths had just left, seemed to be moving. I could see it out the front door, and it was definitely sliding away.
“Do you guys see that?” I pointed.
Everyone looked out.
“Yeah,” Pete lamented. “Just what we need, more rain.”
“Not the rain.” I stood. “The house—it’s drifting away.”
We all pushed outside just as the land beneath the small cabin crumbled and fell into the Girth River—cracking and screeching as it broke apart. The entire cabin slowly sank beneath the water like some ghost that was having a difficult time making an exit. In a few minutes it was almost completely gone. The top of its pitched roof was all we could see as it was pulled downstream. I looked around. We were all standing there openmouthed and painfully aware that what we had just seen was only the beginning.
“This is all my fault,” Ed said, wiping rain from his face. “I attract bad luck like fly paper. I’m cursed.”
“Don’t say that, Ed,” Paul insisted. “If any of this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. If I hadn’t of burned down the boardinghouse, we’d have a place to rally.”
“It’s my fault,” Toby cried. “I prayed for a wet summer.”
“It’s my fault,” I spoke up, wet and angry. I squeezed Grace’s hand and went on. “My father lied to you all. That Book of Mormon was worth enough to maybe get us out of this.”
“Roger wouldn’t do that,” Ricky Heck insisted.
“He did,” I said, sickened. “Now he’s taken it and left us anything but high and dry.”
“I suppose he needed it more than us,” President Heck said sincerely.
“I sure hope it helps him,” Toby threw in.
I couldn’t believe this town. Everything that every decent person in the world professed to desire was played out here daily. These people had found the answer. They had created a haven where the world had a hard time reaching. They were like the city of Zion, only less educated. They had the one-mind thing down, but it was the one heart that was a giant understatement. Sure, they weren’t lifted up, but they were humble and cared for each other more than people in any other place I had ever known. My father had done the entire town wrong, and people were ready to wish him the best.
“Besides,” Roswell said, water dripping off his nose, “that book probably wouldn’t have been worth enough to save us.”
“Roswell’s right,” a voice from behind us said.
Everyone turned around in shock—partly because someone was claiming that Roswell was right and partly because that someone was my father. I couldn’t believe that my dad had come back. I think I was happy about it.
“Roger,” Ricky hailed.
My dad walked in to the middle of the group. He glanced around, getting a good look at all of us. The rain continued to fall, but we all just ignored it, focusing instead on what my father was going to say. “I thought I could sell the Book of Mormon and make enough to help us out. I told Leo it wasn’t worth much because I didn’t want to get his hopes up. That wasn’t true. It’s worth quite a bit. But even if we got its highest price by auctioning it off, it wouldn’t be fast enough or bring in enough to completely fix this mess.”
Everyone was quiet while the rain had its say.
“I guess it’s really over, then,” Toby said.
“Actually, it’s not,” my father said, smiling. “It seems I have a good friend from college who now works for the Tennessee government—a good friend that owed me a favor. He’s already getting together the papers to stop the water. I also just hired the best lawyers Knoxville has to offer to start fighting for us.”
The way he said us almost made me cry.
“You mean we might be all right?” Ricky asked.
“I mean Thelma’s Way isn’t going to get any wetter than it is now.”
That wasn’t completely true, seeing as how it was still raining, but people threw up hats and canes, and a few even pulled off their shoes and tossed them into the air in celebration. The cheer was one of complete happiness. Sure, there was a little complaining as the objects tossed up began to come down on us, but Thelma’s Way was going to survive.
My father hugged Ricky Heck and Toby Carver. He then worked his way over to me. Everyone went silent.
“Trust.”
“Dad.”
“I’m sorry that I ever lived in such a way that you could think I was capable of taking that Book of Mormon,” he apologized. “After Cindy collided with Jerry’s uncle, I ran down here on the way to get help in Virgil’s Find. When I got to the meadow, I saw you searching for something. I was going to holler out, but you found what you were looking for, and I could tell it was the Book of Mormon. I saw you put it in the crypt. I waited until you ran off, and then I retrieved it, thinking that I might be able to put it to some good. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course.” I hugged him.
P
ete let out a sort of goofy ahhhh.
“Where did you find it, anyway?” my father asked.
“I had it,” Grace answered. She was wet but far from watered down. “It was hidden up in my cabin.”
The soggy crowd whispered.
“I didn’t want it to change us,” she added.
“I can understand that.” My father smiled at her.
“Where is it now?” I asked.
My father motioned as if he were going to pull it out of the bag he was carrying. Before he could do so, however, Ricky Heck stepped up to him and pushed his hand away.
“I’m sure you left it someplace safe in Virgil’s Find,” he winked, hoping my father would catch on. “I mean, you wouldn’t have brought it back here to confuse everyone.”
“Of course not,” my dad played along.
“Enough about that anyway,” Ricky insisted. “This is a time for celebration.”
“Amen,” Sister Watson said with genuine emotion.
Always looking for a reason to kiss Grace long and hard, I took her in my arms and kissed her like a man who knew he would be getting married soon. She kissed me back like a woman who wanted to give me a taste of things to come. August eleventh seemed mighty far away.
“I wish we had the boardinghouse to celebrate in,” Pete voiced for all of us.
“We could go to our place,” Patty Heck said with excitement. “Ricky’s got his path done, and I don’t mind wet feet.”
It was an invitation nobody could refuse.
Thelma’s Way was breathing again.
45
To Weather Forever
August Twenty-Second
The sky tilted to let the falling stars run parallel with the landscape. I stepped further out onto the porch and breathed in deeply. I stood there alone, knowing that the only other soul around was inside and married to me.
How lucky could one man be?
We were staying at a small bed and breakfast in the deep woods outside Virgil’s Find. I had stepped out onto our private balcony to get some night air and contemplate everything that had brought me to this point in my life.
When my father said he had hired good lawyers, he had not been telling tales. The water never rose any higher. In fact, it receded just a bit. In the end we had lost a big chunk of riverbank and half the cemetery, but everything else was intact. The state kept the lower part dammed up, leaving a huge lake at the end of our river. Hallow Falls would never be seen again. The state named the new lake Lake Lawrence, but the locals affectionately called it Mistake Lake. Our lawyers also made Tennessee pay to build a bridge across the Girth for us, so that people could safely cross it. They were constructing a nice solid bridge that would make the other side of the river more accessible than it had ever been. An additional plus to the bridge was that in order to assemble it, they had to bring huge trucks and machines down the trail and into our town. The process had taken out a few trees and widened parts of the path, but our simple trail remained largely intact. Seeing them get through, however, convinced Leonard that it was entirely possible to pull his mobile home into the meadow. So he bribed a couple of the bridge builders with some of his multilevel overstock, and they pulled his place into the valley. The trip gave Leonard’s home a number of scrapes and scars; plus, it took out the home’s back left corner. But the damage simply made it look more like it belonged here. With Roswell’s permission and Leonard’s promise to give Roswell a room, Leonard placed it right where the boardinghouse had once been. It took about two seconds for everyone to accept it as the new center of town. It looked like Leonard was here to stay—a fact that made Mavis Watson extremely happy. The two were officially courting. I had always thought Leonard was slightly goofy in life. Well, he was even more so in love. Goofy, that is.
Love's Labors Tossed Page 21