O Little Town

by Reid, Don

  “You make it sound so shimple, honey, but it won’t be that easy.” Doris Sterrett’s tongue belied the sober and respectful countenance she was straining to put forth.

  “I know that, Mother, but we can do it.”

  Buddy spoke for the first time. “How much money can you make going to college, son? How much are they paying students nowadays?”

  “I know what you’re saying, sir, and I understand. But Pop was going to send me anyway. It won’t be any more expense that it would have been and maybe even less if I go locally. Then I can get a part-time job and—well, we can make it work.”

  There was an odd silence in the room. The issue had been confronted and it seemed all who wanted to speak had had their say. Oh, there would be more to say in the future—some would need to wrestle with forgiveness, others with guilt, all would need to find a path to healing. But those were smaller conversations, private conversations.

  Amanda broke the silence with her first words as she stood to leave.

  “I want to wish the children the very best and offer our support in every way. They both have a lot of growing up to do and I think we all need to be here to help them however we can. We’re soon going to welcome a very special little one into our lives and we can’t let the importance of that escape us. God be with every one of us in this room. We’re going to need him and each other.”

  Amanda’s rallying speech said it all. It was the perfect cap to what could have been a difficult meeting. And if this had been the last thing Amanda said, all would have been well.

  As they were putting their coats on and saying their goodnights, Amanda spoke to Doris, “I was so sorry to hear about your father. I know that kind of news is never easy—especially on top of all this.”

  “What newsh about my father?” Doris, though still slurring, was in wide-eyed control.

  And Amanda was in wide-eyed shock. Could Doris be so far gone she didn’t remember her father was dying? How could she explain herself? “His illness. I heard you received some bad news.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Amanda was puzzled. “You told Rev. Franklin, didn’t you?”

  “Rev. Franklin doeshn’t know anything about it. No one knows. Well, no one did until now.” She turned and looked at Louis Wayne, who was staring at his mother.

  “What’s wrong with Granddad?”

  Doris turned back to Amanda. “Colleen was going to call Rev. Franklin this afternoon but I stooped her … stopped her. We decided we didn’t want anyone to know about our father’s condition until after Christmas. Especishisly the children. Of course, now that has been ruined.”

  “I am so sorry, Doris. I had no idea. I thought everyone knew.”

  “Knew what?” Louis Wayne pressed for more information.

  The look Doris gave Amanda needed no words but she said them anyway.

  “Where did you hear this? Who told you this about my father?”

  It was only hours ago. She couldn’t lie and say she didn’t remember. What could she say? The truth? Would the truth hurt? She didn’t have time to think about this—Doris was waiting for an answer.

  “Dove Franklin. I’m sure she heard it from her husband.”

  “Dove Franklin,” Doris echoed. “She probably heard it from someone’s husband, but not necessarily hers.”

  Dr. Sterrett took Amanda by the elbow and escorted them graciously to the door with all the good manners that Doris was lacking. They said their good nights. Dr. Sterrett kissed Shirley Ann on the cheek and wished each of them a Merry Christmas and stood in the doorway waving. As the Ford pulled away, he closed the door, rubbed his hand across his mouth and chin and turned to find his wife talking on the telephone.

  “Little Miss Dovie Franklin has been spreading it around town that our father is on his death bed and where do you shuppose she heard it? You didn’t call Rev. Franklin today after I told you not to did you? Hello. Colleen, are you lissning to me? Colleen, is Milton there? Put him on and I’ll ask him myshelf?”

  “Doris, are you drinking?”

  CHAPTER 19

  Mt. Jefferson was not a large town but it was more than a roadside attraction. It boasted near twenty-two thousand citizens according to the 1950 census and had enough stores to fulfill every need of those twenty-two thousand people. There were times it couldn’t fulfill every wish, but every need— be it clothes, food, or shelter, church, social life, or new car—was seen to sufficiently. Mayor MacHaney summed it up best when he said Mt. Jefferson was big enough that when you walked down the street you wouldn’t know everyone you met, but small enough that you couldn’t walk down the street without seeing someone you knew. And though that folksy logic didn’t keep him in office for a second term, he hit the nail dead center on the head.

  Mt. Jefferson had department stores, grocery stores, dress shops, jewelers, haberdasheries, appliance stores, newsstands, theaters, and restaurants, ranging from cafes with checkered table cloths to lunch counters and ice cream and soda fountains too numerous to count. Auto supply stores, funeral parlors, hardware stores, and drug stores filled the side streets. You could get anything you needed in about eight blocks of easy walking. The streets were full twelve hours a day, six days a week, with happy shoppers, and Macalbee’s sat right in the thick of it all.

  But right now it was ten minutes after nine. Macalbee’s was closed. The main floor was dark and empty of customers and clerks. The only light still on was one in the upstairs office, where Lois Pence was buttoning up her cloth coat while talking over her shoulder to Milton Sandridge.

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  “No. I’m just going to finish this row of figures and then I’m going, too.”

  “Mr. Sandridge, I don’t mean to be personal, but I know it’s been a hard day for you what with that Millie Franklin mess and the news you got about your father-in-law. If there is anything I can do …”

  “Thank you, Lois. But there’s nothing.”

  “Give my regards to Mrs. Sandridge, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Lois.”

  The last noise he heard, besides the random cracking of the old wooden floors, was the back door opening and closing as Lois Pence went out onto the snow-covered sidewalk. He was finally alone. He tapped out a Chesterfield cigarette from the pack and struck a match. He loosened his tie and put his feet on his desk. Walter was on his mind. Their dinner together had been the highlight of his day, not that it would have taken much to highlight this particular day. They talked and laughed and shared a little downtown gossip and a couple of jokes, and Walter had been more open about his feelings than usual.

  “Milton, what do you think of Dr. Sterrett? Tell me the truth. You’ve been in the family almost as long as he has.”

  “Why would you ask me such a question? But the truth is, I don’t think much of him at all.”

  Both men threw back their heads and guffawed as if George Gobel had delivered the punch line.

  “He’s come over to the house a few times,” Milton began, then leaned in and lowered his voice, “usually when Colleen or I are under the weather, but he never does anything. He always says it’s not ‘in his line’ and he gives us a couple aspirins and tells us to call old Dr. Crone in the morning.”

  “There you go,” Walter said as he threw his hands up in the air in mock disgust. “He’s doing the same thing to me with this Dr. Yammie or whoever he is. I have never seen the man as much as carry a little black bag, and what kind of doctor are you if you don’t have a little black bag for Pete’s sake?”

  They laughed again and went back to their meals and as Milton watched Walter eat the long-waited-for roast beef, he looked at his hands and his eyes and wondered about all the things Walter had seen and all the people he had known and all the feelings he had experienced. In that moment Milton thought of a million questions he wanted to ask Walter. But before Milton said a word, Walter asked, “What is it? What’s on your mind, son?”

  “Wh
at do you miss most about Ella?

  “That’s a hard one, boy. It’s almost Christmas Eve. What’re you doing asking questions like that?”

  “You’re not going to answer me are you?”

  Ella had been the one true love of Walter’s life. The faith she brought to their union had carried them through every uneven path that threatened their marriage. She had all the wisdom they needed and Walter had just enough wisdom to realize this.

  She never let him stray and never let him regret it. She knew when to reel him in and when to give him more line. The sweetness of her memory lingered with him daily.

  “Sure, I’ll answer you. You know what I miss most? You probably think I’m going to say her cooking or her laugh or having her next to me when I go to sleep and when I wake up. Oh, I miss all that. You better believe I do. But you know what I miss most? And I miss it every day. Every sad day. Every day for the last five years. You know how a woman, and I’ll bet Colleen does this too, goes through the house about dusk and turns lamps on in different rooms? Upstairs in the hall and in the bedroom. I used to fuss at her for wasting electricity, burning all those lamps when no one was in the room. But she ignored me and did it anyway. Men don’t think to do little things like that when they’re living by themselves. Something as simple as turning a lamp on at dusk in different parts of the house makes the whole place warm and friendly. It makes a house a home. And to think I used to fuss at her for doing it.”

  There were tears in Walter’s eyes, and Milton was sorry he put them there but he himself had been wondering what he would miss most if he no longer had Colleen. Some days he thought he wouldn’t miss her at all. Some days he thought he’d miss her all the time. He tried to think of the one thing he’d miss the most, but it had taken Walter to put it in words. The warmth. That’s what he’d miss.

  As Milton sat in his office leaning back in his chair with his feet resting firmly on his daily report, he reached over and turned on the little radio Lois kept near the typewriter. Then he picked up the phone and dialed his home number. On the third ring Colleen answered.

  “Hello.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I figured you’d be on your way home.”

  “Almost. Got a few more things here to do.”

  “Did you eat?”

  “Yeah. I went to the hospital and ate with your dad.”

  “How is he tonight? I wanted to go back but he insisted I not go back out with the streets the way they are.”

  “Yeah, they’re getting pretty bad,” said Milton. “How are you really?”

  “You know, hon, it just wasn’t the shock for me that it was for Doris. I had a feeling there was something wrong from the day he went in and I’ve been preparing myself for it ever since. I didn’t want to talk about it, but I was preparing myself inside. How about him? How is Dad doing?”

  “He seemed better tonight than he has been since your mother died. He was full of himself. He was laughing and telling jokes. He was up and dressed when I got there and we went down to the cafeteria and we just had a great time together. Almost too good. I was afraid to leave, it was so good. Like I might never see him this full of life again. You know what I mean?”

  “I know the feeling. I got some of that this evening too.”

  “How about Doris? Is she doing okay?”

  “Depends on what you mean by ‘okay.’ She’s drinking and taking tranquilizers and slurring every other word. Other than that I guess she’s doing all right. By the way she called tonight. A rather strange thing happened.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I was going to tell you all this when you came home but do you want me to tell you now?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Louis Wayne has gotten a girl in trouble. Maybe you already know this but if you don’t, you’d better be sitting down. The girl is Shirley Ann Briggs, Buddy Briggs’ daughter.”

  “I just saw Buddy this morning.”

  “Well, the whole Briggs family was over at Doris and Campbell’s house tonight and they had a big pow-wow.”

  “What happened?”

  “Everything was pretty calm best I could tell. I’ll know more tomorrow when Doris is in better shape to talk.”

  “What are they going to do about it?”

  “The two kids want to get married and have the baby and go to college and well, you know how kids are today. That kind of thing is not the scandal it was when we were sixteen and seventeen. One of these days there won’t even be a thing called marriage. Girls will just deliver babies the way they have new furniture delivered. Some days, Milton, I’m glad we never had children.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence, but Milton had no words to fill it. He felt his headache return.

  “And the other thing. After the Briggses left, Doris called me mad as a hornet and wanted to know how Amanda knew about Daddy’s illness. Amanda said she heard it from Dove Franklin but I didn’t call Paul because we had decided we wanted to keep it quiet till after Christmas. Milton, did you tell Dove?”

  Every minute of this vexing, maddening day ran through his brain at breakneck speed. Did he tell Dove? Was he not supposed to? Did Dove tell Paul and Paul didn’t know? Was this question a trap? Could there possibly be a right answer? His temples were throbbing.

  “I … don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? Have you seen her today?”

  “Let me think. It’s been one heck of day.”

  “You must have told her. Don’t you remember if she was in the store or not?

  “Oh, yes. Yes, she was. She was in the store.”

  “And you told her? What’s wrong, Milton? You don’t sound right. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Actually, yes, there is.” Milton was beginning to recover. “I haven’t told anyone, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself. This morning, about an hour after we opened, we caught Millie Franklin shoplifting.”

  “Oh, no! You aren’t serious.”

  “Oh, I’m serious alright. I called Buddy and he took her home and then Dove came down here to see what had happened and then Paul came and it has been one big mess all day long.”

  “Well, why didn’t you tell me this?”

  “This is the first I’ve talked to you. And then the news about Walter came and that sort of knocked the wind out of me, and Dove was here just after that and I guess I probably said something to her. Why? Was I not supposed to?”

  “No, that’s all right, honey. You didn’t know Doris and I decided to keep it under wraps until after Christmas. You had no way of knowing.”

  “Well, I hope that wasn’t a big problem.”

  “No, no. It will be fine. Are you about ready to come home?”

  “What time is it?” He held up his arm and saw by the face of his Bulova that it was 9:35. “I’ll be home by ten o’clock.”

  “I’ll make you some tea. Bye-bye.”

  Milton placed the phone back in its cradle. His shirt was damp, his forehead was wet, and his heart was beating so hard he could see his tie jump as it lay against his chest. Millie Franklin’s shoplifting, Dove Franklin’s surprise appearance, Paul Franklin’s visit by appointment, Walter’s health news, the near slipup of who told whom, Louis Wayne and the Briggs girl, and Colleen’s questioning on the phone just now … he didn’t want many more days like this one. What he did want though was another cigarette.

  Campbell Sterrett was coming down the stairs when he saw his son heading for the door.

  “Where are you going this time of night?”

  “I’m going to see granddad.”

  “You can’t do that. Do you know what time it is? Visiting hours were over an hour ago.”

  “They’ll let me go up.”

  “No, they won’t. At eight-thirty they lock the front doors.”

  “Then I’ll go in through the emergen
cy room like you do.”

  “Son, sit down. It’s been a rough day for all of us and I know how you feel, but going over there right now will only upset him. He needs his rest. Wait until tomorrow. The roads will be better and you both will have clearer heads about the matter.”

  “Pop, where’s Louis Wayne going?”

  “Nowhere, Hoyt.”

  “Why’s he got his coat on?”

  Louis Wayne’s seven-year-old brother was in his pajamas with a dart gun in his hand. He knew nothing about what had happened in the Sterrett household today. He knew nothing about his future sister-in-law, the foreboding health of his grandfather, or why his mother had gone to bed at nine. His presence hampered Louis Wayne from putting up a further argument with their father, so Louis Wayne, like the good big brother he was, conceded by saying, “I’m going out to sweep off the driveway. Want to put on your boots and help?”

  “Yeah!” Hoyt screeched and ran for the porch to get his coat and boots.

  Louis Wayne would see his granddad tomorrow.

  Lois Pence was in bed reading her TV Guide when the phone rang like a scream in a haunted house. She jumped out of bed and ran barefoot down the steps, more frightened with every ring. Every time the phone rang after ten o’clock, she panicked. By the time she lifted the receiver, she was almost too weak to expel a hello.

  “Mrs. Pence? Is that you?”

  “Yes, it is. Who is this?”

  “This is Colleen Sandridge. Do you have any idea where Milton might be?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t.”

  “Did you leave the store before he did?”

  “Yes. I left shortly after nine and he was still at his desk. Is something wrong?”