by Dean Hughes
“I know he wants to go back to college, but I hope he’ll do like you—put that off just a little and then maybe start part-time. I could sure use him in the business.”
“Where?”
“Well . . . I’m not sure.” And now Dad walked to the desk and sat down on the chair across from Wally. “I’ll tell you one thing I’ve thought of. You always used to tell me that you’d like to work at the dealership. What if you went over there when Alex gets back? Alex started this whole operation back when it was running on a shoestring. He could probably fit in pretty fast around here. If you were with me, I’d start looking to a day when I could get out of there once in a while. I’d like to cut back my hours.”
“So what would I do exactly?”
“Learn the whole operation. I’d love to see you lead up the sales team and get some of those guys in the showroom in line. Then come up in the office and start learning the ropes there. When I get ready to retire, you’d be in a perfect spot to take over the whole place.”
“Are you really going to retire, Dad? I can’t see you sitting around the house.”
“I can’t either. But I can get more involved with the Republican party, and Mom and I, we might decide we want to see what the world looks like. You kids have been all over, and we’ve never been out of the States.”
“I can tell you all the nicest places to see in the Philippine jungles—or in the coal mines of Japan.”
“I think I’ll pass on that.” Dad laughed. “Look, I’ve got to skedaddle.” He stood up. “You think that over, though. Anna got a letter from Alex this week, and he really thinks he’s going to get a discharge in the next few weeks. So if you think you’d like to come over and work with me, let’s start talking seriously about it.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, you want to come over? Or okay, you want to think about it?”
“Uh . . . think about it for now.”
“Good. You’re sure doing a good job here. Your mom says you’re a natural. The men on the line all tell her how much they like working with you. And Richard is a big help too. I feel like I don’t have to worry about the place now, and I can concentrate on rebuilding things at the dealership.”
“Good.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. What do you mean?”
“Well . . . okay. You think about it. I’ll see you later.” And Dad left. But Wally couldn’t get the conversation out of his mind the rest of the day.
That night, when Wally got home, Lorraine was dressed up a little more than usual. She was wearing a pretty blue-green spring dress with a white collar—not one of the house dresses she usually wore. “What’s the occasion?” he asked.
“So has it come to that already? You ask me why I want to look nice for you, and you don’t even give me a kiss? Next you’ll be sticking your head in a newspaper and telling me not to bother you.”
“Never!” Wally took her in his arms and kissed her.
It was no peck either, but a slow, romantic kiss, and when he finally stopped and held her in his arms, she said, “Wow. You got any more of those?”
“One more of those and I might forget all about dinner.”
“Then don’t kiss me anymore,” she said, stepping back from him and pushing against his chest. Wally found himself a little disappointed by her retreat, but at the same time pleased by the way she was smiling. “I have a special dinner for you. And I baked a cake.”
“Wait a minute. Is it my birthday, and I forgot?”
“No.”
“Then whose birthday is it? I hope it’s not yours.”
Lorraine was standing near their little kitchen table. She was gripping the top slat in one of their ladder-back chairs, and she was looking at him with delight in her eyes. And then Wally knew. “Does this have something to do with a birthday to come?”
“Yes.”
“My little son?”
“Son? Why not a daughter?”
“Are you really pregnant, Lorraine?”
“Yes.” And now her face was alight.
For the past couple of weeks she had been feeling rather sick, so this was not a surprise, but it was wonderful news to Wally. “Oh, that’s so great,” he said, and he took her into his arms again. “Today Mom said she wanted another grandchild. She’ll think we’re very efficient.”
“Wally!”
“Well, you know what I mean.”
Lorraine pulled back a little again and looked into his eyes. “First of all, I don’t want you to tell her yet.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s still early. I don’t want everyone making a fuss yet. A lot of girls miscarry with their first baby. That’s what the doctor told me, and I don’t want to announce it and then have something go wrong.”
“Okay.”
“But Wally, you shouldn’t be telling your mother about . . . us. That embarrasses me.”
“I didn’t. She just told me that she wanted us to have a baby, and I made a joke. I told her I’d run home and get to work on it.”
“Wally! I won’t be able to look your mother in the eye.”
“Lorraine, she knows where babies come from. I told her a long time ago.”
“Hush.”
“That’s her favorite word—when she talks to me.”
“That’s because you have a smart mouth.”
Wally laughed, but then he said, “Stop a second. I want to think about this.”
“About what?”
“I’m going to be a daddy.” He leaned back his head and laughed harder. “That’s terrific, Lorraine. Good job.”
“But Wally, you will be happy with a girl, won’t you?”
“Hey, I was just joking about that. If we get a little girl, pretty as her mother, she’ll have me wrapped right around her little finger.”
“Oh, I know. I’m not sure I want the competition. It’s been so nice, just the two of us, and everything is going to change now. I’ll be fat as a sow in a few months, and you won’t want to kiss me anymore.”
“Let’s check and see whether I’m losing my interest yet.” He kissed her again, even longer than before, and then he held her close, smelled her wonderful perfume, felt the long curves of her against his body. “You’re going to look great with a big belly,” he told her. “Perfect.”
“I vomited this morning, after you left. I hope I don’t stay sick for the whole nine months.”
He gripped her a little tighter. “Rainey, thanks. I know it makes you sick. And I know it’s going to get uncomfortable. And I know it hurts to have a baby. But thanks. Okay? Thanks for doing it for us. We’re going to have swell kids.”
“I’m a little frightened by it all.”
“About being pregnant or being a mom?”
“Both.”
“Don’t be. You’re going to be the best. And I’m going to knock myself out to be a good dad.”
“Don’t spend your life at the plant, okay?”
“Do you worry about that?”
“A little. I do.”
Wally released his hold on her, but he took hold of her hands. “That’s interesting you would say that. I was thinking today that I don’t want to be like my dad—at least in that way. His business, along with his Church jobs, kept him away from home so much when I was growing up.”
“You’ll be a bishop, Wally. Or a stake president or something. I already know that.”
“Well . . . I don’t know. But I want to be close to my kids. Dad was always one step removed from us, and Mom was pretty much the parent we could go to. I don’t want that to happen. I want my kids to feel like they can talk to me.”
“That’s what I’m going to need, Wally. I’m not wise, and I don’t know how to get that way.” Suddenly she took a step back. “Oh, Wally, what am I doing? I’ve got to get this dinner on before it’s cold.”
She walked to the oven. Wally loved seeing her play this role, being a wife, fussing about dinner being cold. And th
eir house was much nicer than Wally ever could have expected at this point in his life. Dad had found an older home in Sugar House, only a few blocks east of where the Thomases lived. Someone in the stake was moving, and when Dad heard about it, he had made a down payment on the place, and then told Wally that if he wanted to take over the payments, it was his. Wally and Lorraine had lived in an apartment for a couple of months and had been calculating how long it would be before they could get into a house, and then, suddenly, this place was theirs. It wasn’t fancy, but it had lots of room, and Wally and Lorraine had plans about how they could fix it up in time.
Wally appreciated the way his dad was opening doors for him, making life so comfortable, but he also felt a little strange about it. Some of his friends were working hard, and they had almost nothing to show for it. Chuck didn’t have parents who could do such things for him. He had finally found a job, and he was planning to go to college on the GI bill that fall, but he had years to go to be in the position Wally was. In some ways, that was embarrassing to Wally. He almost envied Chuck for being able to work his own way up and not get things so easily.
There was also something else bothering Wally. “Dad said something today that worries me a little,” he told Lorraine.
“What was that?” Lorraine had roasted a whole chicken, and she was taking it from the oven. Wally loved the smell of it.
“He asked me if I wanted to change jobs—move over to the dealership when Alex gets home.”
“Why is that strange?”
Wally pulled a chair out and sat down at the table. “He said that Alex used to run the plant, and he could move back into that. It just made me wonder whether he doesn’t think Alex will do a better job.”
“If he wants you working with him, that’s quite a compliment, I would say.”
“I know. But he talked about having me learn the ropes, selling cars for a while. It sort of sounds like Alex is getting promoted to the top, and I’m going to get knocked down a few rungs for a while.”
“But isn’t he saying that you would become the head of the dealership at some point?”
“Yeah. He said that, right out. But not for quite a while, and in the meantime, he would be in charge and telling me what to do all the time. He doesn’t say much about what I do at the plant, but that’s because he’s so busy at the dealership. I just don’t know whether I want to be right under his thumb like that.”
“Either way, he’s giving you a great opportunity.” Lorraine’s back was to Wally. She was using two forks to set the chicken on a platter.
“I know.” Wally hadn’t said it yet, and he told himself that he wouldn’t, but then the words came out. “Dad has always thought that Alex was his smartest son, the one who would do the most. I told him today that Alex could take over the speaking for me, once he got home, and Dad seemed to think that made sense, like he would do a better job.”
Lorraine glanced around at him. “He didn’t say that.”
“No. Not exactly. But I said he was a better speaker than me. And he seemed to agree with me.”
“Wally, you’re putting words into his mouth.”
“Maybe. But I can picture what’s going to happen. I may end up working with Dad a long time, and that might be fine. But Alex will be the head of Dad’s many enterprises, in one way or another.”
“Are you sure?”
Actually, Wally wasn’t sure. And he didn’t like what he was doing to himself. For so many years he had been in the habit of being jealous of his big brother, the star athlete, the student-body president, the missionary. Wally didn’t want to do that again, to go back to that kind of attitude, but it was hard not to see Dad’s extra pride when he spoke to people about Alex’s war record. Wally had been a survivor—a victim—but Alex had won a bunch of medals, had received a battlefield commission, had dropped behind enemy lines as a spy. What a story he was—what a great man. And Wally didn’t care about competing with all that. He was even happy to let Alex be the speaker, the hero. But he wanted his father’s respect, and when he had first come home, he had thought he had it. Now what he was feeling was that Dad was pleased with him but still held him in a second position to the star of the family.
All that was wrongheaded, though. “Lorraine, I never should have brought this up. It’s all my old teenage worries coming back, and it’s stupid. Dad has shown me so much love since I’ve been home—more than he ever knew how to show when I was younger.”
Lorraine brought the chicken to the table and set it down between their two plates. She had set the table earlier, had used their nice china and pretty lace tablecloth. “Wally, I just don’t think you’re in any kind of competition with your brother. You’ve always seemed to feel that you were.”
“I know. He is better than me at most things, and that’s just how it is. It’s not his fault, and not Dad’s either.”
“That’s still making a comparison, and it just isn’t necessary.”
“I know. What I want, this time, is just to love my brother. If I had Gene back, I’d be happy to have him. I wouldn’t be worrying about who got the better job, or something like that.”
“But it’s hard, isn’t it?” She put her hand on his shoulder.
“What is?”
“Just to live life and love it. And not think you have to be better at it than someone else.”
“I thought you said that you weren’t wise.”
“That’s not wisdom; that’s just a question.” She walked back to the cabinet.
“No. It’s a lot more than that. It’s the attitude I ought to have. A few months ago I got up every morning and thanked the Lord for my toothbrush, and now I’m already worrying about things that don’t matter. I need to spend more time thanking the Lord for what I have—and not worrying about the rest.”
She walked back to the table with a bowl of peas and new potatoes. “Now we’re both wise. Let’s eat.”
Chapter 17
Bobbi and Richard were getting married. At first, Bobbi had committed to a wedding date mostly out of resolve to move forward, as her grandmother—and almost everyone else—had advised her to do. But spending time with Richard had also reassured her. She could feel his commitment to her, and she was touched by his attempts to express more of his feelings. Added to that, he never seemed to tire of listening to Bobbi talk about her own dreams and wishes. What surprised
Bobbi, however, and pleased her more than anything, was that those intense feelings she had known in Hawaii had gradually returned. She felt a powerful attraction to Richard, and at the same time, a deepened awareness of his goodness. In spite of that, she was often aware that he wasn’t exactly the same man he had been when she had first met him. He had been shocked by the war back then, disappointed with people, but he hadn’t been hurt personally. What she saw now were little hints of sadness that would show up in him when he was unguarded. Still, she loved Richard—she had no doubt about that now—and she had to accept all of him, even the wounds he carried, and she had to hope that her love could serve as one of the influences that would heal him.
The wedding ceremony was sacred and warm—with both families together in the temple—and the first night with Richard more lovely than Bobbi had dared to hope. She and Richard also had great fun on their drive to California, with lots of time to laugh and talk. Richard had arranged for a room in a nice little motel close to the beach, north of San Diego, and the two spent plenty of time near the water, and in it, and lots of lovely time alone in the room. Bobbi loved being close to this strong man who held her so gently, and she loved the openness she felt in this new intimacy. What she wanted now was to forget about the war, the past, the scars, and she wanted to embrace, with Richard, this new beginning.
The two were lying on the beach one afternoon when Bobbi asked him, “So, Mr. Hammond, are you happy?”
He was lying face down, with his back to the sun, but his skin was already deep brown and wonderfully tight over
his muscles. His hea
d was on his arms, and sideways, so that he could look at her. His right hand, his better hand, lay close to her face, and she could see the scar tissue, the pale, hairless skin across the back. “You know I am,” he said, and he smiled.
“It’s strange to me to think that I’ve been with a man now—after all these years of waiting.”
His eyes went shut. He didn’t say anything.
“Do you like it as much as you thought you would?” Bobbi asked.
“What?”
“You know.”
“Of course I do.”
“Don’t say it like that. You sound like you’re saying, ‘Yes, and the sunsets are also very pretty in southern California.’”
“They are.”
“I know. But tell me how much you like it.”
He opened his eyes—those wonderful pale blue eyes—and raised himself to his elbows. “Bobbi, you must have noticed my . . . how should I say? . . . my enthusiasm. Let’s just leave it at that. Let’s not try to put it into words.”
“I’m embarrassing you, huh?”
“Yes. I’m still a blushing groom.”
Bobbi laughed, and she ran her arm over his back, his hot skin. Then she leaned toward him and kissed his ear. “So do you want to go back across the street now—to the motel?”
“Sure.”
“Oooh. That’s better than pretty words. That’s enthusiasm.”
“But sometimes, let me think of it first. Okay?”
The words stung. “Excuse me. I certainly will,” Bobbi said. She turned away and lay on her back. Not only was her ardor gone, but she was humiliated. She was never going to ask him again, if that’s how he felt. In fact, the next time he did show some interest, she would let him wait.
She only told herself that for a minute or so, however, and then she admitted that she was being petty. She couldn’t ruin her honeymoon by acting like a dumb kid. She would cool off a little more, and then she would try to make things right. But he had to know she was angry. Why didn’t he say something? Couldn’t he apologize?