Children of the Promise

by Dean Hughes

“No, no. I just wondered.” Bishop Evans wiped the sweat from his bald head with a ragged blue handkerchief. Wally

  didn’t doubt his concern, but he was not someone Wally felt close to. The bishop managed a feed store in Sugar House, and he farmed on the side. There was nothing false about him, but he had little sense of how to get to know the boys in the ward.

  “I don’t know, Bishop. I’ve just lost interest. I’m not much of a ball player, to tell the truth.”

  “You’ve always played for us in years past.”

  “I know.”

  “Why don’t you come out this week?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Wally, did you think about the things your father said today? Did any of it go to your heart?”

  Wally was holding his suit coat over his arm. He shifted it and threw it over his shoulder. “Not enough, I guess,” he said.

  Bishop Evans seemed to accept the honesty. “Well, son, don’t drift away. You need to stay involved with the Church.”

  “All right,” Wally said. “I’ll try to come to MIA more often.” But he promised nothing more than that, and Bishop Evans seemed to know better than to push any harder.

  Wally finally escaped the hot building, and he was overjoyed to get home. He pulled off his church clothes and put on a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. He was tying his shoes when Gene walked in. “Boy, that building was hot,” Gene said. He was unbuttoning his white shirt.

  Wally looked up. “Just once you would think Dad could let the meeting out early. I don’t know why he thinks he has to preach for a solid hour.”

  Gene didn’t comment, but Wally saw the look in his eyes. It always bothered him when Wally criticized Dad.

  “And then the bishop gets all over me because I’ve missed Mutual a couple of times.”

  “Why aren’t you playing baseball?” Gene asked. He sat down on his bed and pulled off a shoe, not bothering to unlace it.

  “Because I don’t want to. The last I knew, playing baseball wasn’t one of the requirements for the celestial kingdom.”

  Gene pulled his other shoe off, stood and slipped his church pants down, then sat again and pulled them off. But he didn’t say anything.

  “Whether I go to Mutual is my business.”

  Gene walked to the closet. He got out a hanger and draped his trousers over it without bothering to get the crease straight. “What about the Word of Wisdom?” he asked. “Is that your own business too?”

  “What?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Gene hung up his pants and then walked back to his bed. He stood there in his underwear, facing Wally. “You came in drunk Friday night,” he said.

  “I was not drunk.”

  “You’d been drinking. And smoking, too. I could smell it.”

  Wally got up from his bed. “Yeah. That is my own business.” But Wally felt ashamed. After a few seconds, he said, “Look, Gene, I’m not going to start drinking all the time. It was something I just wanted to try.”

  “Wally, you’re going to ruin our family.”

  “For crying out loud, Gene, what are you talking about? I took a couple of drinks. One time.”

  “I don’t mean that. You hate Dad. You do everything he tells you not to do.”

  “No, I don’t. If I did that, I’d leave this place.”

  “Why?”

  Wally felt bad when he saw the hurt in Gene’s face. He softened his voice when he said, “Gene, I just need to get away. It’s nothing against the family.”

  “Stay until Alex gets back. I want us to be together again.” Gene stepped to his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of cords.

  “We’ll never be together again, Gene. Not for long.”

  Gene was stepping into his pants, but he glanced toward Wally, and Wally saw how upset he was.

  “We’re all growing up, Gene,” Wally said. “We’ll go our separate ways. Bobbi’s getting married. Alex will too. That’s just how life is.”

  Gene sat on his bed, his back to Wally. “I hated it when Alex left,” he said. “I don’t want anyone else to go.” He was straining hard not to let his voice show his emotion.

  Wally didn’t know what to do. “Hey, get your baseball glove,” he finally thought to say. “Let’s go out and play some catch.”

  “We can’t. It’s Sunday.”

  “Dad isn’t home yet.”

  “That doesn’t matter. We’re not supposed to do it.” He looked around. “Don’t you understand that, Wally?”

  Gene finished dressing and left the room. And Wally was left to wonder about himself. Why were so many things clear to his family that simply weren’t at all clear to him?

  Chapter 14

  Wally and Lorraine were lying on their backs watching the fireworks. “It’s so strange,” Lorraine said. “Every time there’s a flash, it feels like the light is coming right at us.”

  Wally laughed. “I know. I love that feeling.”

  “It scares me, but I like it too. It’s like the sparks are going to keep right on coming and crash on top of us.”

  Wally laughed. “Yeah. You love to take chances as long as you know there’s no real danger.”

  “Hey, that’s not true. My friends tell me I shouldn’t be spending so much time with you. They think you are dangerous.”

  Wally heard the thump as another rocket took off. He could trace the path by the sparks, could hear the hissing sound. Then the burst came, and again he saw the illusion—the expanding blast, the light reaching toward them, as though it were much closer than it really was.

  In the quiet that followed, Wally asked, “What’s so dangerous about me? I haven’t even tried to kiss you.”

  And it was true. He had never kissed her, and yet they had been together often all summer. He had, however, held her in his arms—on the dance floor. Wally was a good dancer, and Lorraine had begun to accept invitations that clearly were dates. Mostly, they went to Friday night ward dances, but sometimes Wally splurged and they went to the Rainbow Rendezvous downtown, or to the Avalon Ballroom south of Sugar House.

  Today, the Twenty-Fourth of July, they had gone to the “Covered Wagon Days” parade in the morning and then shared a picnic lunch in Liberty Park. They had each gone off to family parties that afternoon and hadn’t planned to be together again, but Wally had called and said, “Let’s drive out to Lagoon and see the fireworks.” He had expected Lorraine to turn him down, but she had agreed. By the time they had gotten to The Lagoon, an amusement park near Farmington, the dance floor was already so crowded they could hardly elbow their way in. But they had danced for a time and then wandered over to the fun house.

  Lorraine knew she had to hold her skirt down as she walked in, but a blast of air had still lifted her dress enough to show her pretty legs, and Wally hadn’t minded that at all. The two had then laughed to see themselves in the distorted mirrors, and they had crashed on the floor together as they tried to walk through the big rolling barrel. Lorraine wouldn’t get on the saucer, which spun until it threw people off in all directions, but she did grab a burlap bag and hike to the top of the immense slippery slides. She tried to race Wally, but he reached the bottom ahead of her.

  After, the two had waited in line until they finally got a ride on the roller coaster, and then they had walked to the swimming pool—the biggest in the state—and watched the swimmers for a time. By then, the fireworks were starting.

  “My friends all know you,” Lorraine was saying now. “They say you’re waiting for your chance to attack me.”

  “That’s true. And guess what—tonight’s the night.”

  “At least you warned me.”

  Another little thud sounded, and a rocket shot through the darkness. Wally watched for it but couldn’t pick it up. When it burst, it was something new, a larger explosion. And then several more followed in rapid succession.

  “Big finish,” Lorraine said.

&n
bsp; And it was. Five explosions followed quickly, one after the other, and then one more, higher, bigger than the rest, in brilliant red. It lit up the whole sky.

  Wally and Lorraine were lying on the grass not far from the pool. Wally had claimed it was best to watch fireworks lying down. Lorraine had accepted that, but she had also kept her distance. “That’s the end,” she said now. “I need to get home.”

  “The night is young, my dear. What’s the hurry?”

  “I’d better not be late. My parents weren’t very pleased about my taking off again tonight.”

  “Okay. But first we need to do something dangerous.”

  “No.”

  “It’s the safe kind of danger that you like.”

  “All the same . . . no.”

  “I knew you’d like the idea,” Wally said. “Tonight we’re Bonnie and Clyde. We’re going to pull off a heist.”

  Lorraine didn’t agree, but she laughed, and Wally took that as a good sign. The two got up and walked to the parking lot. The band had begun to play again, and Wally hummed along with a new Hoagy Carmichael tune called “I Get Along Without You Very Well.” It was a beautiful song, and Wally, on impulse, turned to Lorraine. “Let’s dance,” he said. She laughed, but she let him take her in his arms, and they danced the rest of the song, out among the cars. When the music stopped, he let go of her and bowed, and then they continued on to the car, but he wished they could stay late and dance every dance. He was always happiest when he was holding her.

  Wally had his own car now. Dad had seen no need for another car in the family, but he had relented and made Wally a good deal on a trade-in. It was a ‘32 Ford coupe. Wally was making two dollars a day, and he had managed to save thirty dollars for a down payment. Since then he had paid another twenty, but he still owed a hundred. He had promised to work part-time when college started, and to keep paying off his debt at five dollars a month. That would be hard, but Wally loved his little coupe, and it had given him more freedom than he had ever known before.

  When Wally got into the car, he was surprised to see that Lorraine was sitting closer than usual. All day, he had had the feeling that she was growing more comfortable with him. And also, all day, he had wanted to kiss her. He knew better than to force that, but he believed it would happen before long.

  He didn’t tell Lorraine where they were going. He was sure she would back out if she had time to think about it. But the girl was entirely too strict, and Wally wanted her to try something a little more risky. He drove back to Salt Lake on Highway 89 and then turned east on Twenty-First South. This was taking them home, but when he continued east through Sugar House and parked the car near the Country Club golf course, Lorraine finally demanded to know what was going on.

  “You’ll find out. Just follow me.”

  Lorraine hesitated, but then she did get out of the car. Wally took her hand and walked across a big field of dry cheat grass, south of the golf course, to a place where a long, steep drop-off led down to one of the fairways. As he started down the hill, Lorraine asked, “Are we allowed to go down here?”

  “Yes. Can’t you tell? I’m allowing it. Just be careful with your skirt. I’ll carry you across the creek.”

  “Creek?”

  Wally was pulling her along now, and he didn’t explain. But when they came to the creek, he bent and took off his shoes, and then he rolled up his pants.

  “Wally, what’s this all about?” she wanted to know.

  “It’ll only take a minute. It’s just something fun.” He turned and took hold of her, picked her up, and then walked carefully into the shallow water. He loved the smell of her when he got that close. When he set her down on the other side, he was tempted to hold on to her and try to kiss her—and just find out, finally, what she would do. But he didn’t. “Okay,” he whispered, “follow me, but stop when I tell you to.”

  “Why are you whispering? Are we trespassing?”

  “Well . . . a little, but—”

  “How can you trespass ‘a little’?”

  Wally laughed. “Let’s say it’s only a minor trespass. We’re not hurting anything. But don’t talk too loud.” He took her hand. The pond he was looking for was not far away, but he couldn’t see very well. He tried to judge the firmness of the earth under the grass as he inched his way down a little slope. When he felt softer footing, he said, “Okay, stop here.”

  “You’re going wading?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe I’ll go in too. I can hold my skirt up.”

  “Really?” They both laughed. But then Wally thought better of it. “No, you’d better not. It’s a muddy mess. Just stand on the bank, and I’ll throw our take to you.”

  “Take? What are you going to do—catch fish?”

  Wally laughed so hard he had to reach for Lorraine to get his balance. “Not fish,” he whispered. “Golf balls. These ponds collect a lot of them.”

  “Is it okay to take them?”

  “Yeah. It’s more than okay. It’s great. We wouldn’t want the fish to eat them and get sick.”

  “Are there really fish in there?”

  Wally was trying to roll up his trousers a little higher, but he was laughing harder than ever. “Lorraine, I’d like to be a salesman and call at your house. You’ll believe anything.”

  “It’s stealing, isn’t it?”

  “No. It’s free enterprise. If I’m enterprising enough, the golf balls are free.” Wally had his pants ready now. “Okay, here I go. Maybe I’d better just stuff my pockets. You might not see the balls coming at you if I throw them.”

  Wally fully expected Lorraine to tell him not to do it—that it was wrong. But she surprised him again when she began to giggle. “This is crazy. How can you find them?”

  “With my toes.”

  For some reason that struck Lorraine as very funny. Her laugh was usually soft and sort of husky, but she was cackling now. “My dad would die,” she said.

  Wally stepped into the water and worked his way out a little from the bank. “The golfers get the ones close to the bank. I’ll have to get out a little more,” Wally said.

  “Do you even golf?” Lorraine asked, and the question got her laughing again.

  “Not yet. But I’m getting ready to start. I’ve got a whole bucket of balls at home. Mel and I have done this lots of times.”

  “Are you finding any?”

  “Not yet.” But then Wally felt the familiar hardness under his foot. “There’s one,” he said, and he reached down for it.

  Lorraine was giggling again.

  “Hey, they’re thick right in here,” Wally said. He reached into the water, got one, swished it in the water to get rid of the mud, and then stuffed it into his pocket.

  He had five or six in his pocket when Lorraine said, “Hey, I think I want to come in. It’s no fun just standing here.”

  “You’d better not. You’ll hate me if you ruin your dress.”

  “I’ll stay close to the edge and just cool my feet.”

  “Okay. Go slowly though. It’s slippery.” He could see her outline, just enough to know that she was bending over, taking off her shoes. He could hardly believe she would do something like that. “This crime stuff is fun, isn’t it?” he whispered.

  “You’re the criminal. I’m only going . . . Wally! A light!”

  Wally saw it too. A flashlight was coming toward them. Wally began to slosh his way toward the bank, but he slipped in the mud and went down. He caught himself with one hand and came up scrambling. “Run to the tree,” he said. “I’ll catch up.”

  “I can’t see.”

  Wally heard the panic in her voice. As he came out of the water, he grabbed her arm and took off running, pulling her along. There was a big spruce tree near the creek, maybe fifty feet away. He ran toward it, not really seeing it, but before long he was catching hold of its prickly needles. “Ouch,” Lorraine was saying at the same moment.

  “Get behind,” Wally whispered, and he pulled her to t
he back side of the tree, away from the flashlight, which he glanced to see was coming nearer. But the light was shining on the pond, not toward the tree, and Wally thought they were safe. “Just stay still,” he whispered. “I don’t think he saw us.”

  She had hold of him, grasping one arm, and he could feel by her grip that she really was scared. The light flashed past the tree a couple of times, but no one came near. And then they heard a voice: “Stay out of this pond. I’ll call the cops on you next time.”

  Then, silence.

  The voice had been young. The guy was probably a teenager who was hired to water at night. His boss had told him to scare off kids who got into the ponds, but it was obviously not a huge thing to him. He had heard the voices, the laughter, and walked over, but he was giving up already. Wally waited a good two minutes, without speaking, and then stepped out far enough to take a look. “He’s gone,” he said, and he began to laugh.

  “Oh, Wally. What if the police had come?” But her voice was light. She had apparently liked the excitement. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, and now she was laughing again.

  “Okay. Let me get you across the stream. Then I’ve got to find my shoes.”

  Lorraine began to cackle again. “I forgot about my shoes for a second,” she said. “I almost left them.”

  “Shush. It was that laugh of yours that tipped the guy off in the first place.”

  She laughed all the harder. “You got all wet, didn’t you?”

  “And muddy.”

  “See. Crime doesn’t pay.”

  “Sure it does. It pays in golf balls.”

  “No. I learned my lesson. Give me those balls. I’m throwing them back in the pond. And then I’m going to confess to my bishop and repent.”

  “You repent. I’m moving on to bigger crimes. Tennis balls.”

  “No, Wally. Don’t do it. It could lead to bowling balls.”

  “Basketballs.”

  “Globes.”

  Wally could think of nothing bigger. He was laughing too hard anyway. He slipped his arm around Lorraine. She leaned against him and continued to giggle.

  “Come on,” he said, and he picked her up. He made his way back across the creek, but this time, when he put her down in front of him, he didn’t let go. He stood close to her with his arm still around her waist. She didn’t step away, and so he took his chance. He bent a little, felt his nose touch hers, and then turned his head and kissed her. For three or four seconds, she let it happen, didn’t exactly kiss him back, but didn’t stop him either. And then she stepped away.