by Gail Sattler
“I think I’ll pass. I’d probably name it and teach it tricks like a dog. I couldn’t bear to know that it would soon be coming to an untimely end. Everything I eat I’ve bought from the store, ready to cook without having to do anything else first or know any of the gory details, and I like it that way.”
As Elliott stopped the car, Louise realized they had arrived at home. She hadn’t been aware of most of the journey. Before she figured out what he was doing, Elliott had slipped out of the car, opened her door, and he stood to the side to allow her to get out. When she stood beside him, he leaned inside, reaching for the crate of chicks. “None of them are going to jump out on me, are they?”
“They’re not frogs. Baby chicks do hop a little bit, but they certainly don’t jump that high at this age.”
“I don’t know about that. All I know is that they’re bouncing now.”
As he backed out of the car while steadying the orange crate in front of him, he bumped into her from behind. He straightened quickly, and the sudden movement caused the chicks to cheep loudly. Automatically, Louise reached to steady the crate, and as she did so, her hand brushed his. Their gazes met, and he slowly brushed the back of her hand with his thumb.
Suddenly, Louise’s heart started to pound out of control. “City boy,” she muttered.
His hand covered hers completely. “Apparently,” he mumbled, his voice unusually low in pitch.
Louise’s throat clogged, and she couldn’t respond with him touching her. She didn’t know what happened, but something just had.
Without speaking, she yanked her hand away and ran into the house, leaving Elliott to carry the chicks by himself.
❧
“May I see some identification, please?”
Elliott stiffened. “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything. My wallet has been stolen, and I haven’t received my replacement driver’s license or anything yet.”
The bank teller paused, read the front of the check, then put it to the side. He picked up a form and his fountain pen. “Since you’re opening an account, we can use a letter from another financial institution to verify your identity.”
“I don’t have anything like that. I’m new to the area, and I don’t have anything set up yet. That’s why I’m here. To open a new account.”
The young man tapped the top of the pen to the counter. “Your address, then?”
Elliott shuffled his feet, wondering how many banks there could possibly be in Beauséjour. “I, uh, don’t have an address. I’m staying with friends. In Pineridge. That’s not too far from here. Would you like that one?”
Elliott gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile, hoping against good sense that the clerk wouldn’t ask for their address because he didn’t know it. No one used it, apparently not even the post office.
The clerk laid his pen on the counter, picked up Elliott’s paycheck, read it again, turned it over to examine Elliott’s signature, then folded his hands on the countertop. “Let me get this straight. You have no identification, no letters, no address, no other accounts in town, and you want to cash this check?”
“Yes, I do. It’s a railway check. It’s good.”
“I’m sorry. I’m going to have to call for the manager. Please have a seat.”
Elliott’s stomach took a nosedive somewhere into the bottom of his shoes. It wasn’t until he had the check in his hand that he’d realized he might have difficulty cashing it. He hadn’t, however, expected this.
He left the teller’s window and walked to the waiting area, where he stood beside Louise.
“What’s taking so long? Why are we standing here?”
“They won’t open an account and cash the check without seeing my identification, and I don’t have any. Nor is there any local establishment they can contact to confirm I am who I say I am or that has my signature on file. Until I get something in writing, I’m stuck.”
“What about asking your brother to send something? I hope your birth certificate wasn’t in your wallet.”
“No. That’s the one thing that wasn’t, but I’m hesitant to send the only identification I have left in the world through the mail, in case something happens to it. Besides, my birth certificate doesn’t have my signature on it.”
The teller returned. “Mr. Endicott? This way, please.”
“I’m going with you,” Louise whispered beside him.
He opened his mouth to tell her that wasn’t necessary, but she was already ahead of him.
The teller ushered them into a private office. The manager leaned over his large wooden desk to shake Elliott’s hand, waited for Louise to sit, and both men sat as well.
The manager folded his hands on the polished desktop. “I understand we have a bit of a problem.”
It wasn’t “a bit” of a problem. He had finally received his paycheck for his first week. Until he had the check in his hand, he hadn’t known what his salary was to be. He’d heard the railroad paid well, and he found that to be true. After he cashed his paycheck for $16.89, he would have enough money to pay back what he owed the Demchucks from his last shopping trip. Then he could do more personal shopping, send some money to his brother, and have some for the offering at the church. He might even be able to buy himself a new Bible. He’d thought of buying himself a new wallet, but after all his expenses were taken care of, he doubted he would have anything to put in it. Therefore, that expenditure would wait for two weeks for his next shopping trip, when he would actually need a wallet. Still, he’d never made so much at the barbershop in one week, not even in two.
Elliott cleared his throat and faced the manager. “My wallet was stolen, so I have no identification. Also, I’m from out of town, so I have no local references.”
“That’s not true,” Louise said, her voice causing both men to freeze. “I have an account here, and I can give him a reference. My name is Louise Demchuck.” She started digging through her purse. “Here is my bankbook; I believe this is everything you’ll need.”
The bank manager smiled as he accepted it. “That will be fine, thank you.” He stood, then leaned over to shake Elliott’s hand once more. “I’ll tell Randolph to set up that account for you. Good day, Mr. Endicott, Miss Demchuck.”
As soon as the teller saw the door open, he appeared. The manager gave him Louise’s bankbook and instructed him to set up the account.
Louise accompanied Elliott to the same grated window he’d been at previously and waited beside him while the teller filled out the information from Louise’s file. Elliott stepped to the side when the teller directed her where to sign on the form, and he then continued to open the account.
He flinched when Louise touched his arm. “See? Everything is fine.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Elliott tried to smile, but inside he was numb.
It wasn’t fine. A woman had to vouch for him. His ability to conduct financial transactions was in the hands of a woman who wasn’t even legal age.
A few weeks ago, a man he had never met before had offered him a job, and he’d accepted it. He was now living in that man’s house, sleeping on his couch, and driving his car.
That man’s wife was feeding him.
Even their church and community had welcomed him when he had nothing to offer.
Elliott felt like a flea living off the blood of a friendly dog. He was a parasite.
“You have to leave some money in the account to keep it open. How much shall I leave in, Mr. Endicott?”
“Whatever is the minimum.”
The man counted out the money. “Thank you, Sir. I hope to see you again soon.”
“Yes,” Elliott mumbled. “You will. In exactly two weeks.”
Louise was nearly skipping beside him as they walked down the main street. “Isn’t it wonderful to have your own money, finally?”
He forced himself to smile. “Yes.”
For longer than he cared to remember, Elliott had thought that all he needed to be happy was a job with a good income. Now
he had it, but the hole in his soul seemed larger than ever. Eight weeks of a good salary didn’t mean he was set for life, but for the near future, especially with no expenses beyond replacing the necessities and a few items for work, the money he earned would go a long way. In the end, though, it didn’t make him as happy as he thought it would.
“The co-op at the corner of Derwent Street has the best prices for the overalls you’ll need. And you can buy the boots at the co-op on Tarlton Street.”
“Okay.” His future was still hollow and uncertain. He’d never been shy for adventure, but Elliott didn’t want adventure. He longed for the time he could spend his day at work, then spend his evenings at home in the good company of the woman who would be his wife and not have to worry about what the next day would or wouldn’t bring.
“Mama gave me her grocery list, plus I have a couple of things to buy at the drugstore. What do you want to do first?”
“Makes no difference to me.”
“I also want to buy Papa a good book. He’s getting so bored and frustrated when all he can do is sit around all the time, and he’s read everything in the house at least twice. Those two days it rained and he stayed home all day while you went to work, well, I’ve never seen Papa so restless. Can you help me pick out a good book for him?”
“Sure.” He wondered what John liked to read, then thought he would have liked to buy John a book as a gift. Elliott felt his face tighten as he walked. He could well imagine John’s reaction to his gift. Despite his best intentions, Elliott knew his host would not accept a gift from him graciously. John had made it more than clear that he didn’t want Elliott to ever think of trying to pay him back. Even though he worked hard all day, the railroad paid well for that. When he accepted the job and all that went with it, Elliott had not foreseen how strange he’d feel about receiving free room and board. All his meals and needs were taken care of, merely for escorting John around the house and property and helping Mrs. Demchuck with tasks that John temporarily couldn’t.
It unsettled Elliott to know he wasn’t doing enough to reciprocate their kindness. Yet, when he managed to put the uneasiness aside, he felt happy at the Demchucks’ home. The same bond existed between John and his wife that Elliott had seen between his own parents. As a young boy, he hadn’t understood completely, but now, from an adult perspective, he did. He saw in the Demchucks’ marriage the things he wanted for himself. As well as the love between husband and wife, they were best friends, something he didn’t see very often. Just as his own parents were, John and Mrs. Demchuck were comfortable together, as well as apart.
He’d seen many of his friends fall in love so intensely that they couldn’t bear to be separated, and then when they were together, they behaved as if they were walking on eggshells, afraid they would do or say the wrong thing. Elliott didn’t think that was the way love should be, but since he’d never experienced it personally, he simply didn’t know.
“Look, Elliott, here’s the barbershop. Is yours like this one?”
The shop had only one customer, who was in the chair and covered by a cape while the barber snipped at the man’s sideburns. He wondered if this barbershop did any better than his brother’s in Katona Falls and if this one earned enough income to support a man with a family, even if it could never earn anything close to what a man’s father-in-law might make.
He nearly stumbled at his own thoughts, but he kept walking as he spoke. “I guess they’re pretty similar,” he mumbled, quickening his pace.
“Elliott? Where are you going?”
He stopped abruptly to discover that they had arrived at their destination, which was next door to the barbershop.
“Is something wrong? You’re being so quiet.”
“No, nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking.”
“About what? Or should I not ask?”
He gazed into Louise’s beautiful green eyes as she spoke, wondering what it would be like to come home to Louise after a hard day at work, sitting on the couch while she made dinner and little children played at his feet.
Abruptly, he looked away, back to the barbershop, whose only customer had just left. “I was thinking about things that will never happen. Now let’s get that shopping done. Your mama will be unhappy if we’re late for dinner.” He covered his stomach with his hands and sighed, remembering the delicious roast pork Louise’s mother had made last night. She’d made sandwiches with the last of the meat for their lunch today and used the most fragrant, mouthwatering bread he’d ever tasted, which he knew Louise had made. “I don’t know how your family manages to stay so thin. I’ve never eaten so well in my life. I fear my new clothes won’t fit me by the time I leave.”
Louise shook her head so fast her hair flopped on her shoulder. “I doubt that will happen. But you are right. I don’t want Mama to be angry, and I think she might need some items on this list for today’s dinner. We had better hurry.”
Elliott forced himself to put his thoughts of the future and what could never be out of his head. For the rest of the day, he would be alone with Louise, and he intended to enjoy it. Although Mrs. Demchuck said she was too busy to go with them today, Elliott highly suspected she merely wanted to spend some rare private time with her husband.
“Elliott? Are you coming?”
He turned back to Louise. Her lovely smile did strange things to his stomach, and this time, he definitely wasn’t hungry.
He smiled back, determined to forget his troubles for the day. “Yes, I’m coming. Now let’s have some fun shopping.”
Fourteen
Elliott handed John the crutches at the top of the stairs and watched John hobble into the bedroom. Elliott closed the door behind him, then made his way down the stairs and joined Mrs. Demchuck and Louise on the couch.
Besides the pleasant music of Glenn Miller, the clicking of their knitting needles added to the homey atmosphere.
“John was so tired,” Mrs. Demchuck said as she turned her knitting and started another row. “But it’s his own fault for insisting on walking to church. I told him that he should have let you drive him.”
Elliott nodded and leaned back, letting his feet stick out straight in front of him as he linked his fingers behind his head. “I know. I told him he was going to be sorry.”
Louise smiled, not missing a stitch as she spoke. “You know Papa. Once he makes up his mind, it’s nearly impossible to get him to change it.”
“I meant to ask you at dinner but didn’t get the chance. How did your men’s choir practice go?”
“Mama!” Louise laid her knitting in her lap. “It’s hardly a choir. There were exactly five men. And it’s called a barbershop quartet.”
“But there were five. A quartet is four.”
Louise resumed her knitting. “They still call it a barbershop, regardless of the number of men. It’s the style rather than the number of people that determines the name.”
Elliott smiled as Louise and her mother continued to banter back and forth. As the conversation progressed, he found he didn’t have to say a word. Louise was doing a fine job without him, telling her mother everything that had happened, from figuring out the participants’ vocal ranges, to selecting the music, to trying to show Stan Pollock when to go up and when to go down with the music in front of him.
All in all, it had been a long time since he’d enjoyed himself so much. Nick Sabinski had been correct in that he was the only one able to read music. However, that hadn’t stopped the men from putting together a simple but melodious version of “Amazing Grace” in four-part harmony. Because Elliott was the only one experienced with group dynamics, they had looked to him for leadership, but it had been Louise who had held the group together with her skills on the organ, as well as her patience when they started doing more joking than singing.
As the two women continued to argue playfully over the clicking of the knitting needles, Elliott closed his eyes to think about everything that had happened that day.
At church
this morning, he’d met more people, all of whom welcomed him like he belonged there. Everyone had accepted him as a friend of the Demchucks. He’d received a tentative invitation to dinner to the McSorbins’ home, the family Louise had purchased her baby chickens from. Because the McSorbins had four children, the oldest of whom was Louise’s friend Dorothy, he had been hesitant to accept. However, they had assured him he was welcome and they wanted to get to know him better, even though his presence in their community was temporary. The only thing he’d found odd—and realized too late to change his acceptance—was that he’d been invited without Louise.
“Hush, girl. I think he’s sleeping.”
He opened his eyes and smiled at Mrs. Demchuck, not moving from his stretched-out position. “No, I’m not sleeping, but I am relaxing. I was just thinking that all these years I’ve lived alone, I didn’t know what I was missing.”
Both of their mouths dropped open, and for the first time that evening, the room was silent. They’d even stopped knitting.
Elliott couldn’t hold back his laughter. He sat straight and ran his fingers through his hair. “I was just teasing you. Honestly, spending a quiet evening like this is quite pleasant. I’ve lived alone for five years, and it’s difficult to describe what it feels like to hear the sound of movement and voices around me when I’m used to only silence inside and the noise of the city outside. That changed when my brother and his family moved in with me two months ago. It’s kind of relaxing, in a noisy sort of way.” At the same time as he thought about his words, he also thought that listening to the sound of Louise’s voice was far more pleasant than listening to the sounds of his brother back when his own family was still together under one roof.
The clicking resumed, and this time Elliott joined them in conversation as they discussed what they’d heard at church as the latest happenings in their community.
Before they knew it, it was time to go to sleep. Over the last few weeks, Elliott had learned the hard way that the seven o’clock phone call often came far too early.