O Little Town

by Reid, Don

  “I said I can get the money not that I will.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Lt. Briggs’ voice was all professional with no hint of fatherly anywhere to be heard.

  “Do whatever you want to do with me. I don’t care. I’m not payin’ for anything. Take me to jail. I don’t care.” The blue in those young eyes was no longer pretty. Iced and penetrating and hard, but not pretty.

  A funeral silence overcame the dusty stockroom and lingered for at least sixty seconds, which is a long time for three people to stare at one another. Lt. Briggs stuffed the pilfered items in his overcoat pockets, then took Millie Franklin by the arm and they walked not out the back door, but the length of the store to the front door and down Main Street until they were both out of Milton Sandridge’s line of sight. Customers and clerks alike watched the unlikely couple marching past the toys and kitchen utensils and finally the magazine rack and out the frosted doors. Some were silent, some were smiling, and some were just glad the Christmas season was almost over.

  Milton stood in the storeroom doorway, lit another cigarette, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Thirty-six degrees outside and he needed a cold drink.

  CHAPTER 3

  Two days before Christmas as many patients as possible had been sent home from Lenity General Hospital. Some would return the day after, but, for now, the hospital was only a third full and the second-floor waiting room was empty except for two sisters waiting for their father to wake up from his mid-morning nap in room 213. Walter Selman was seventy years of age and in perfect health, except for the flu bug that had hit him a week ago. Routine symptoms turned into something more serious a couple of days later, and he was suddenly facing the threat of spending Christmas morning in a crank-up bed watching a snowy television. He was not happy. As a matter of fact he was more angry than sick to hear him tell it. He mostly blamed his doctor son-in-law for the time he was spending in this antiseptic environment. When he slept, he was happier and more peaceful than he had been in days, but when he awoke, it would be hell to pay all over again for the family that was keeping him here.

  Walter’s daughters, Colleen Sandridge and Doris Sterrett, were concerned for his health and at the same time a little amused at his attitude. He was a perfect mixture of love and dread in his waking hours.

  “Do you think Camp will let him go home for Christmas day?” Colleen asked.

  “That’s not officially his call. You know, being family, he can’t legally treat him as his patient. But he’ll get him out if it’s safe.”

  “Where would he go? He can’t go home by himself. He’d have to stay with one of us.”

  “I think it best if he stays with us. That way Camp will be there if he has any setbacks,” Doris said.

  “But you have your kids. At our house it’s just Milton and me, and we have the room. It really is no problem.”

  “We could always leave it up to him.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good one. Like he’s not going to want to go home by himself. When Mamma was alive, she could handle him, but he’s going to get mad at us no matter what decision we make.”

  “Let’s wait till Camp gets here. Maybe he’ll have a better idea.”

  The room fell silent and they both went back to reading; Colleen her Reader’s Digest and Doris her Look. The room was silent till Doris finished leafing from the back to the front and laid the magazine in her lap. She looked at Colleen for a long time without saying anything.

  Finally Colleen looked up and asked, “What?”

  “I’m just wondering.”

  “Wondering what?”

  “Are you okay? I mean is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”

  “Hey, you’re my little sister,” said Doris. “I can tell these things. I’ve always known when something was wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Colleen, you know what I mean. How are things between you and Milton?”

  “Milton is Milton and all is well.”

  “Oh, I really wish you would have adopted. And it’s still not too late. I shudder to think what life with just Dr. Campbell Sterrett would be like. I love him and all, don’t get me wrong. But it could get really … you, know. The kids make all the difference. Louis Wayne, of course, is practically grown. Did I tell you he made the varsity basketball team again? We were so proud of him. You’ve got to come to some of the games. The girls go crazy over him. But then you probably already know that. You teachers know everything about everybody. And little Hoyt. He was a blessing coming along nine years later. His big thing this year is Santa. He’s beginning to wonder, you know? I say tell him the truth and let it go but Camp wants to keep the mystery alive as long as possible. You know what I’m trying to say? You need something more. Maybe Milton needs something more. I tell you, it’s not too late.”

  “Doris, we’re fine. You love your kids. I love your kids. Leave it at that. And as far as that Santa thing, Milton is playing Santa at the store Christmas Eve again this year. From two to four. Bring Hoyt by and I’ll tell Milton to give him an extra boost.”

  “You weren’t listening … as usual. I said I want to tell him the truth.”

  “Tell who the truth?” Dr. Campbell Sterrett, asked as he walked into the family waiting room. “When doctors are forced to tell the truth, the whole world is going to be in trouble.”

  “Hi, Camp. “

  “How’s my prettiest sister-in-law? And my prettiest wife?”

  “What’s the verdict on Dad?” Doris stood, showing her impatience and eagerness to leave.

  “I think we can take him home tomorrow. Maybe for good. If we get his temperature to stay down overnight, he’ll be okay.”

  “To our house or to Colleen’s?”

  “Better make that ours. There we always have a doctor in the house.”

  Colleen smiled at Campbell’s feeble attempt at a joke. Doris sneered. Things were almost back to normal.

  “Let’s go see if Dad’s awake.”

  Walter was awake and everyone one on the second floor knew it. His TV blasted at full volume, the blinds were open wide, and he was in high gear. He looked up and saw his two daughters and his son-in-law come through the door.

  “When am I gettin’ out of here?”

  “Hi, Dad.” Colleen kissed him on the cheek.

  “How about tomorrow … if you’re willing to come home with us and behave yourself?” Doris asked.

  “Tomorrow is one day too late but if that’s the best I can do with the connections I have, then so be it.”

  Campbell smiled and held his tongue.

  “Dr. Yandell will have to make the official decision,” Doris added before Campbell had a chance to retort.

  “That little bandicoot. He ain’t got no more business being a doctor than Hoyt does ridin’ a bull. He told me two days ago I had pneumonia. Then it was bronchitis. Now he’s gonna send me home. I oughta just get up and go right now. And I would if I knew where my pants were.”

  “There’s a pair in the closet, but I’ll bring you some more clothes in the morning or Milton can bring them tonight when he comes.”

  “Yeah, tell Milton to do that. I may want to go to the cafeteria and eat supper. Milton will take me.”

  The temperature fell two more degrees outside and ten more in Walter’s room as Doris gathered her coat and she and Dr. Sterrett headed down the hall. Colleen stayed and fluffed Walter’s pillows and his spirits.

  CHAPTER 4

  It was Millie’s first ride in a police car. Though Buddy had made her walk the length of the store, an obvious attempt to shame her, he decided to save her the humiliation of sitting in the backseat, behind the screen. He figured facing her daddy would be humiliation enough.

  “Millie, if there is anything you can tell me that can save us from having to go through with this, do it now. Do it, if not for yourself, for him. He doesn’t deserve this.”

  “How do you know he doesn’t deserve
it?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means whatever you want it to mean. I don’t care what you tell him.”

  The car stopped in front of the house by the church, and Buddy turned off the engine. They sat there for a few moments, neither one of them saying anything. Buddy looked at her and saw a girl almost as old as his own daughter. A girl in trouble. A different kind of trouble to be sure, but so defiant. When he opened the car door, he said it as a warning and also to show her who was in charge: “I’m not gonna tell him anything, Millie. You’re gonna tell him.”

  The Rev. Paul Franklin opened the door after just one ring. If he was shocked at the pair standing on the porch, his face didn’t betray it. Buddy, as good as his promise, never spoke a word. Words were rarely necessary when parents opened the door to discover their child standing beside a police officer.

  Rev. Franklin simply said, “Buddy,” as a greeting and motioned with his left arm for them to come inside.

  In the study Paul sat behind his desk, and Buddy and Millie sat in the chairs facing him like a couple begging a loan from a bank president.

  “Paul, I think Millie has something to tell you.”

  She looked up from staring at the carpet to her dad, then over to Buddy and back to her father. Her stare never faltered.

  “They caught me stealing from Macalbee’s. Mr. Sandridge called the cops and here I am. He wants me to tell him why and you’re gonna want me to say I’m sorry and I don’t plan to do either so I’m going to my room.” And she left.

  It was a toss-up as to which side of the desk looked more uncomfortable. Both men were in a business to take charge but neither wanted to use their work strategy against the other.

  “Has anyone pressed charges?”

  “No.”

  “Do I need to write you a check for what she took?”

  “No. We got it all back. Do you want to know what it was?”

  “It doesn’t matter. That she took it is what matters. And I think I know why.”

  The study door opened and the considerable good looks of the preacher’s wife filled the room.

  “Hi, Buddy. What’s going on?”

  “It’s Millie. They caught her shoplifting at Macalbee’s. Buddy just brought her home. She’s up in her room.”

  “Who turned her in?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to know who turned her in.”

  “Milton called and asked me to handle it,” said Buddy. “I think he’s willing to keep it as quiet as possible as long as his home office doesn’t find out about it.”

  “Calling the cops is not exactly keeping it quiet!” Dove Franklin exploded with the fervor of a defensive mother. “How do we know she was actually stealing?”

  “They caught her red-handed, Dove, and she admits it. What more could you want?” Paul Franklin, man of God, looked as tired and gray as his Perry Como sweater.

  “Well, I would want someone to show a little more consideration than to bring her home in a police car.”

  “I’m sorry, Dove, but that’s the only car the city gives me. I could have walked her up the hill but it’s a little cold out there.”

  Dove left, slamming the study door behind her. Buddy rubbed the backs of his hands for a few seconds before he spoke. The preacher was staring at his desktop.

  “I’m sorry about the car in front of the house, Paul. I can come up with a story if you need to tell the neighbors something.”

  “I don’t need any excuses for the truth,” the preacher said with sad eyes. “You’re looking at a man who struggles with the truth every day. It’s comes with the job.”

  “Yeah, but I guess other people’s truths are easier to deal with than your own, and I’m sorry I had to be the one to lay all of this at your doorstep.”

  “I’m used to it. She’s not a bad girl. She just wants to be a bad girl.”

  Paul Franklin fingered a brass paperweight shaped like a cross and considered an unspoken explanation of what he was feeling. He knew his daughter was of an age where she longed for an identity all her own. Maybe she didn’t want to be the minister’s daughter anymore. He could remember a time a few short years ago when she was so proud of her daddy and would sit on his lap while he wrote his sermons each week at this very desk. Once, when she was six, he overheard her delivering a sermon to her dolls and stuffed animals lined up on her bed. But now her friends were the most important things in her life. Did she want them to think she was as wild as they were? He was afraid to answer. He already had evidence that she smoked and drank, and now he could add stealing to that list of questionable behaviors. What else might she do? Maybe she was just a normal, curious teenager stumbling through these awkward years doing the best she could. He looked up at the man on the other side of his desk and found his voice again. “She’s fifteen. She knows all the answers to all the questions you and I are still wrestling with. She even thinks …”

  Paul stopped in mid-sentence when he saw tears in Lt. Briggs’ eyes. What had he said that would have extracted this kind of reaction from this rock-hard war hero?

  “Buddy, what’s the matter?”

  Buddy took a moment before he answered. “If I hadn’t come here today because of Millie’s situation, I would have been here for another reason. Everything that’s happening is hitting me right in the heart. I’ve got a problem and Amanda will probably kill me for telling you without consulting her first, but … well, I know you’ve got a lot on you right now and this is probably the wrong time to unload on you …”

  “If you have something you need to talk about, my friend, now is as good as any time to do it. I’m here for whatever you need.”

  “Amanda called me about an hour ago just before I left the office, so I really haven’t had time to let it all soak in, but she had just found out that Shirley Ann is going to have a baby.”

  “Your Shirley Ann? Your sixteen-year-old Shirley Ann? God have mercy on us all. Tell me all about it.”

  “I just told you everything I know.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Amanda Briggs was sitting on the sofa with her legs curled under her, drinking coffee and stroking her daughter’s hair. Shirley Ann was lying on the sofa, her head in her mother’s lap. Shirley Ann’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. Amanda just stared out the picture window at the wind gusting snow flurries across the lawn.

  “Did you tell daddy yet?”

  “Yes, I did. I told him on the phone just a little while ago.”

  Shirley Ann began sobbing again. Her mother’s stroke on her hair never faltered.

  “What did he say? And tell me exactly. Was he mad?”

  “He wasn’t mad.”

  “Did he cuss and yell?”

  “No. He was very calm. He was busy and I don’t think it all sank in at the time.”

  “Is he coming home?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

  “Mamma, I am so sorry. I don’t know what to do. All I knew was I had to tell you. I’m sorry that it hurt you and I hope you don’t hate me but …”

  “Honey, I don’t hate you. No one hates you.”

  “Daddy will.”

  “No, he won’t. He knows how to handle … unexpected things. He does it every day.”

  Shirley Ann wondered if her dad had asked who the father was. Her mother asked earlier but Shirley Ann said she wasn’t ready to say. Shirley Ann knew she would have to tell them soon. She knew when she’d confided in her mother that it would all come out eventually. She couldn’t put it off forever.

  “Honey, I know this hasn’t been easy. But there are some things I have to ask. You may as well talk to me before your father comes home. It will be easier that way. I was sixteen once. I know. Talk to me now while it’s just us.”

  “Okay.”

  “How long have you been seeing this boy?”

  “It’s been going on since summer. We haven’t really dated in public because he has a girlfriend and I have Tommy,
and we’ve sort of kept it a secret.”

  “So when did you see one another?”

  “I would tell you I was going downtown to meet Tommy and then I wouldn’t. I’d go meet … him. Sometimes I’d say I was over at Kathy’s and I wasn’t. I’d be with him. He has a car.”

  “Shirley Ann, if you want me to see you through this thing then you’re going to have to start treating me like someone you trust. Like you treat your friends. You’re going to have to level with me. Do you understand?”

  The weather dropped another five degrees and the wind whistled around the front door. There was no sunshine outside and certainly none inside. The gloom of a gray wintry morning rushed through every window of the living room and Shirley Ann was so long answering that Amanda thought she might have dozed off. But finally with no further urging, the daughter said a name she knew her mother wasn’t expecting.

  “Louis Wayne Sterrett.”

  “Dr. Sterrett’s son? Have you told him?”

  “He knows.”

  “And?”

  “He’s going to tell his parents tonight. We both wanted to wait till after Christmas but I just couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t get all through Christmas with that on my conscience. And he agreed.”

  They both stiffened as they heard car tires on the gravel driveway. Shirley Ann began to sob again, not in fear, but in the shame she knew she’d feel when she looked in her father’s eyes. They waited for the kitchen door to open but it never did. Instead, someone knocked at the front door.

  Shirley Ann sat up and pulled her hair back and wiped at her face, hoping to magically erase the redness and puffiness for whomever was at the front door. Amanda walked across the room spreading the wrinkles out of her dress with both hands and reached the door as the anxious visitor pushed the bell for the second time. She opened it, and there stood the father of her unborn grandchild. Tall, scared, and handsome. There was no other way to describe him. Amanda thought maybe she should add brave, because it took a lot of nerve to ring that doorbell. As a fellow human being she wanted to shake his hand. As a mother she wanted to wring his neck.