Beau, flabbergasted at her news, hugged her tightly, released his hold and shouted to Sarge with his finger pointed at Emmie, “Best present of the night!”
Sarge grinned and nodded merrily as he reached for another biscuit.
A few minutes before seven o’clock the choir sang their last carol, an uneven and comical version of O Little Town of Bethlehem. “Bethlehem” proved difficult to pronounce for many of the young kids and they sang it as they heard it: “Bets to Him.” Amid chuckles and laughter, the crowd began to thin as families gathered children and said last goodbyes. Volunteers cleared tables and packed up leftovers.
The annual Christmas party was a huge success. With the microphone finally working, the Reverend Dunn proclaimed it was the best one ever as he thanked all who came and reminded everyone to come to church on Sunday. “I expect to see you there!” he shouted over the suddenly ear-piercing screeching mike. “Merry Christmas and God bless!”
As they listened to the reverend’s parting words, Pete tugged on Nelle’s hand and led her across the room toward the Christmas tree.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked. “It’s time to go, Pete.”
“Not yet,” he said, as he positioned her by the tree out of sight of anyone else. “You look beautiful standing by those lights, Nelle.” He kissed her sweetly and went down on one knee. “I have a present for you,” he said, reaching into his pocket.
Nelle gasped as he handed her the small black velvet box. Her mouth fell open as she took it in her hand, closing her fingers around the box and pressing it to her heart.
“Well, go on. Open it. The floor is cold,” Pete said, still kneeling.
Nelle lifted the top slowly. A single small diamond set on a gold band sparkled in the lights of the Christmas tree.
“Will you marry me, Nelle Louise Lyons? Will you be my wife?”
Nelle stood dazed, gazing at the ring.
Pete stood and took the ring from the box, bringing her back from her immobile state. She held out her hand and he slipped the ring on her finger.
Nelle flung herself into his arms, holding on, choking back tears.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded and managed a muffled, “Yes. Yes.”
“Merry Christmas, Nelle,” he said, kissing her fully, holding back tears of his own.
Winter season roared in with abnormally cold temperatures and raw freezing rains that wreaked havoc on roads, downed ancient trees, and forced families into unfamiliar hibernation. School closures, celebrated by students, drove mothers to wits end and fathers out of the house early in spite of concerns for dangerous situations. Record-breaking temperatures and hazardous conditions rendered the entire region uncharacteristically still and its people restless.
The three-inch snowfall in late February, however, brought West River to life again with children and old folks walking the streets, throwing snowballs, and building snowmen. Downtown looked lovely as a snow globe, charming as an English village. People smiled, kids laughed, dogs jumped to catch snowflakes and rolled happily in the white carpet of snow. Snowfall was a rarity not to be missed. For many young children, it was their first time to witness the marvel of huge snowflakes descending from the sky like delicate doilies only to disappear like magic once captured in an outstretched hand. It seemed the whole of West River seized the occasion with abandon, realizing snowmen lived a very short time.
Even Nelle and Christine spent a rare day together, catching snowflakes on their tongues, sharing a hot soup lunch, talking of the future, reminiscing about the past. They did not discuss the peaceful present they had settled into and treasured. Contentment was expressed in their daily lives.
Nelle’s days had sped by with study, exams, dreaming, and planning. She managed to work one day a week at Mr. Parker’s office, grateful for the small raise he gave her, which helped her save for her wedding. She wanted an intimate ceremony and a pretty dress. Big wishes and small needs she told herself. Her nights with Pete were filled with excited conversations about building their new home on his property, both pledging modesty while entertaining ideas for future expansion. Bigger gardens, more animals, an office for Nelle’s veterinary practice, a woodshop for Pete. Limitless possibilities for a growing Cloud Nine. A wedding date had not yet been set. Summer perhaps. Probably June. Most certainly after she finished her veterinary exams, scheduled for the end of May.
Christine impatiently anticipated her high school graduation, barely three months away, and had already informed Mr. Spurlock that she would be leaving his neighborhood store to manage Miss Ruby’s feed and supply operation along with Miss Ruby’s grandson Junie. Although Mr. Spurlock told her he was sorry to lose her, he sweetly claimed full credit for her new opportunity citing the training and support he had given her over the three years she had worked for him. She, of course, agreed, but loved that Junie insisted the position was offered based solely on her own merit. He never mentioned how he had lobbied his grandmother on behalf of the remarkable girl he had fallen so hard for.
From his grandmother’s point of view, Ruby Bowman Feed and Supply Store was her life’s work and she was determined to see it go on. The years of hard work had weakened her and despite her strong will, her aging body had forced her to slow down. She could see that Junie and Christine were a good match. With her uncanny eye for seeing the potential in people, she had long known that Junie was right for the animals and Christine was perfect for the store. Her work would go on and the Bowman family would grow.
Over the past year, Clara Worthy noticed the changes that had begun with small cues and had grown steadily since Maggie first came to the Kentucky Daily News in Bowling Green. Maggie was a workhorse, which not only brought about increased work but also earned her higher pay. She never turned down a call for overtime. She thrived on additional responsibility, did not complain, and was quick to assist others who had trouble keeping up with the daily demands the job required. Instead of jealously, her gifts reaped camaraderie, something Clara envied and had never been able to achieve. Moreover, Maggie could make people laugh.
The discreet and restrained woman who had initially arrived in Bowling Green was gone. Maggie was quick with a joke and a compliment and lightened heavy moods with her clownish impersonations of a number of the boorish, arrogant, ill-mannered men who made frequent visits to the female typing pool. Clara marveled at her boldness and cherished the friendship that had grown between them.
Mario greeted them every Friday evening at Varino’s Italian Eatery with grandfatherly affection. Their table was always the same, in the private corner, no menu necessary.
“Ladies, ladies. Come sit. You have a long day. Now, you have a good meal and good time,” he said, serving Clara her glass of wine and Maggie her glass of ice tea. “Lasagna ‘specially good tonight,” he said beaming. Mario always said the same thing. “Bread on the way.”
“I thought I’d fall on the floor when you did that to Mr. Parry, Maggie,” Clara giggled. “No one could have gotten away with that but you.”
Maggie snorted and repeated her antics. She flicked her index finger rapidly. “Barn door is open, sir.” She assumed the same innocent look she had given to Mr. Parry, the general manager who roamed the room every day with his fly open.
“He does it on purpose,” Maggie said with a shudder.
“Did you see how red he turned? He was burning!” Clara chuckled.
“I don’t think he’ll do it again,” Maggie said, lifting the tea to her lips. “But if he does, so will I.”
“That would have gotten me fired, Maggie. I wish I could be so brave.”
“We don’t have to take it, Clara. They can’t manage without us,” she said in a serious voice sitting up straighter. “I don’t want my girls intimidated and mistreated by those kinds of men. They deserve better.”
Maggie never talked about her girls. It was at that moment Clara knew Maggie had completely shed her old self and would not be staying in Bowling Green much lon
ger.
The envelope had no return address but Christine recognized her mother’s handwriting. She had shown little interest in the occasional postcards that Nelle had received, disguising her hurt by pretending not to care. This one, however, was a letter addressed to her. The last she remembered or cared to hear about from Nelle, was postcard that had come from somewhere in Arkansas. That was a long time ago. This postmark was stamped Bowling Green, Kentucky. Christine had never heard of it.
Ruin my graduation. Why don’t you just leave me alone. She grimaced as she rubbed her finger over the postmark, considering for a second to leave it unopened until after the graduation ceremony tomorrow. She couldn’t bear the thought of having her long awaited day spoiled and swallowed hard as old resentments and pain bubbled up.
The slam of the screen door shifted her attention. Junie’s familiar greeting made her smile. “Hey, babe! Where are you?”
“In here. The living room,” she responded.
“What’s wrong?” He could tell from her voice that she was bothered and saw her standing rigid with the letter in her hand. “What’s that?”
“From my mother,” she said flatly.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked, tenderly. “Go on. You should.”
Christine took a deep breath and tore the envelope open slowly. She hesitated for an instant, frowning with uncertainty, before she took out the letter. A check fell to the floor as she opened the folded paper.
Junie bent down quickly to retrieve it. “Wowwwwww,” he uttered, amazed. “She must really love you. A hundred dollars. Wowwwww.”
Christine read the letter, biting her lip, unable to stop the tear.
My darling Christine,
A gift for my youngest who brought me more joy than all the money in the world could ever buy. Happy graduation my sweet girl. You are still my sunshine. I think of you every single day.
Love, Mom
Christine pressed the letter to her heart and closed her eyes. For an instant, she could hear her mother’s voice, feel her embrace, and know once again the depth of her love. A wave of forgiveness swept over her, as she rocked to her mother softly humming You Are My Sunshine.
Junie stood next to her silently, waiting for her return. When she opened her eyes again, he touched her lightly on her arm. “What are you going to do with all that money, Christine?” Junie asked sweetly,” awed by the generous gift, knowing the hurtful history.
“I’m going to save it for a rainy day. You never know,” she answered, her mood lifting and her smile returning.
Pete had never met Terry Lyons but was well acquainted with his violent history and with the troubles the Lyons family had endured. His grandfather Papaw had been friends with Nelle’s grandfather for many years, and he had heard the heartache stories about Terry’s mother who suffered a nervous collapse at a young age and was unable to care for her family. He knew that Ralph Lyons brought his wife home to save her from the wretched conditions of the asylum where she had languished for several months. Not long after, his son Terry left home and joined the Army to escape the turmoil and unhappiness that ensued, only to discover that the ravages of war could also shred the psyche of his own tender soul.
Nelle seldom spoke of him after her first and only visit to the state hospital where he had been for almost four years now. The encounter had been another source of heartbreak for her, especially deep since her mother was gone, and something he couldn’t fix. But in spite of her suffering, Pete saw her determination to forge her own way and survive her painful past. Her resiliency was a quality that they shared. His family had also known its share of trouble as well. It was a bond that united them, though seldom talked about.
In spite of her father’s confinement, Pete wanted to see him before their wedding, which was just a few weeks away, following her June graduation. She had not let him come on her previous visit, but times were different now. He wanted to tell her father that he loved Nelle, would take care of her, and was there to ask for her hand. Nelle thought it was ridiculous, but he pressed, and won.
“Okay. Okay. But you really don’t understand, Pete. What if you set him off? What if he says no? What are you going to do if he says no?”
Pete hadn’t considered it. He shrugged his shoulders. “I won’t take no for an answer,” he said matter-of-factly.
“What if he throws a chair or takes a swing at you?” she said, exasperated.
“I’ll duck. I promise,” he said. “It’s going to be okay, Nelle. I just feel like it’s the right thing to do. Papaw would have wanted me to. C’mon. It’s alright. We’ll have a nice ride together in the countryside.”
It was a battle he wouldn’t let her win.
By the time they left the next morning, Nelle was feeling better about the visit and had even packed sandwiches for a stop along the way.
“At least it’s a good excuse for not going to church today,” she said, touching Pete on his arm.
“Yep. Even Reverend Dunn would approve. He’ll be asking next time we see him though,” Pete said.
“I hope we have something good to say about it,” Nelle said with a strain of worry that tightened her voice.
Pete gave her a reassuring nod without betraying his own recent worrisome doubt. Each time he heard himself say what if she’s right, he pushed the thought from his head. He cocked his elbow up on the rolled down window and inhaled the cool morning air. “Perfect day for a trip,” he said, clutching the steering wheel.
After a mostly silent and scenic long ride, they stopped to eat their picnic lunch at a roadside rest stop just a few miles away from the hospital. Nelle remained thoughtfully quiet and Pete finally gave up trying to carry on a conversation. He could tell she wasn’t listening to a word he said.
Finally, resuming travel, Nelle spotted the hospital sign in the distance. She blurted out loudly, “Let me do the talking at first. Okay?”
Startled by her loud voice, Pete quickly replied, “Okay. Sure. Of course. Don’t worry. I’ll be right beside you.”
“It’s right up there,” she said, pointing, letting out a big sigh. “Maybe I should have called first. Do you think I should have called?”
“No. It’s Sunday, Nelle. People visit family on Sunday.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s really nice here,” he said as they drove down the long entrance way shaded by a canopy of ancient oak trees. “At least on the outside.”
After they parked Nelle grabbed Pete’s hand and headed toward the visitors entrance. “It looks nicer than I remember,” she said. “More like a big house. I went into the wrong building when I came before. It was raining so hard I couldn’t figure out where to go.”
The former antebellum mansion had been freshly painted and the massive porch was invitingly furnished with tall white rocking chairs and large green ferns. The visitors’ lobby was well-appointed with fine carpets and tasteful furniture, and the floor to ceiling windows let in bright sunshine. It was not the gloomy atmosphere Nelle had anticipated.
Nelle approached the front desk tentatively, bolstered by the welcoming smile from the woman who gave her a friendly greeting. “Good afternoon. How may I help you?” she asked sweetly.
“I’m here to see my father. For a visit. Terry Lyons, please,” Nelle said nervously.
“Of course. Let me check,” she said smiling, perusing a large book and placing a call to someone else. “Good. You can see him in our visitors’ common area, Miss Lyons. Go right through that door and just follow the signs down the corridor. They’ll bring him to you. “It won’t take but a few minutes.”
Nelle took Pete’s hand as they went toward the door. She squeezed it hard.
The visitors’ common area turned out to be the same place she had been escorted to before, but today it seemed brighter, sunlit and filled with congenial people. Comfortable chairs arranged for personal conversations created a homey atmosphere. A number of people sat at card tables playing checkers and dominoes. It was difficult to
tell the visitors from the patients. The setup resembled a gathering in a community social hall.
Nelle and Pete sat on a small couch that faced two tall winged chairs. The semi-private area was apart from the main activity area. Nelle lay her hand on top of Pete’s, to calm herself.
As the heavy metal door opened, they turned their heads. An orderly stepped in and glanced around the room, raising his finger toward them and nodding his head. Moments later, he escorted his charge toward them.
Nelle and Pete stood up.
“Here’s your visitors, Captain. Enjoy your company,” he said, letting his hand drop away from Terry’s elbow.
Nelle hoped her surprise didn’t show. She had never imagined her father with white hair. Rolled shoulders diminished his stature and she could detect a tremor in his hand. Angry red scars on both of his temples looked like deep burn marks. He was thin and glassy-eyed and stood in front of her blankly studying her face before the light of recognition came into focus.
“Well it is Nelle. Look at you,” he said, smiling, but making no move toward her.
“Yes, Daddy. It’s me.” She stepped closer and gave him a peck on the cheek, instinctively. “Come sit down. We’ve come to visit.”
They remained standing as Terry gazed at Pete, looking him over from head to toe.
Pete shuffled his feet, cleared his throat, and clasped his hands together.
“This here your sweet patootie?” Terry asked Nelle.
Nelle grinned. “Yes, sir. This is Pete, my sweet patootie.” Nelle recalled how he used that term for her mother when they joked and laughed together.
Terry’s face softened as he eyed Nelle and his lips curled into a slight smile.
Pete took advantage of the moment, stood straighter and lifted his head higher, unable to contain his silence any longer. “Mr. Lyons,” he said, clearing his throat again, “I love your daughter and would like to marry her, sir, if that’s okay with you.” He broke into a sweat.
The Road to Home Page 20