O Little Town

by Reid, Don

  “Yeah.”

  “Here.” The boy handed Walter a folded note and then ran away as if Satan himself was on his tail.

  Walter watched until he rounded the corner and disappeared. Then he unfolded the note and with great difficulty read the scrawling on the paper. Am in hiding near train depot. Come past tracks at dark. Need to talk. Bring no one. Nick.

  Walter spent the rest of the day at the hospital. As he sat in the lobby, he saw flowers being delivered every half hour—big beautiful Christmas wreaths and colorful poinsettias. Later he would learn that Adrienne had received everything from nuts and fruit to bedclothes and cosmetics, gifts from the good people of Mt. Jefferson to the ailing, and maybe dying, Adrienne, whom they had only known and admired for one performance. It was obvious to everyone, through the newspaper and by word of mouth, that Adrienne was without any formal family. Mt. Jefferson, in an expression of communal kindness, had adopted her.

  By suppertime small groups of citizens had gathered in the cold outside the front of Lenity General, showing support and awaiting news. The evening was beginning to pale into darkness when Walter weaved his way through the small groups of well-wishers along the front steps and set his sights on the train depot, about six blocks away.

  Walter crossed the tracks and stood for a few moments in hopes that someone would come to him. Time passed and no one came. He started walking along the tracks in ever-increasing darkness and cold. About a half-mile from the depot, he could smell food cooking. He looked to his left over a shallow embankment and saw small flickers of flame coming from what appeared to be a company of individual campfires. The secluded field could only be seen from the train or the tracks. His eyes were adjusting to the sight and the lack of light when a voice he had heard before spoke his name.

  “Walter.”

  He jumped and turned and saw the dirty little boy who had delivered the note. The boy then ran down the embankment and toward the camp. Walter waited. A larger figure left the camp and started up the hill toward him. Nicholas Knoles. There was no greeting. No “thank you” for coming. Nicholas went straight to the business at hand.

  “How is she?”

  “Pretty bad.”

  “Is she going to live?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I didn’t mean to shoot her. She knows that doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Walter was mesmerized by Nicholas’ appearance. He was still wearing his expensive street clothes and long heavy coat, but he looked as if he had not slept in the past twenty-four hours. His tired eyes stared at Walter with a cry for help, and Walter, who had both feared and felt sorry for this man in the past day and a half, sensed genuine remorse in him.

  “Can you get a message to her?”

  “Maybe. They’re watching her pretty close.”

  “Tell her I’m here. Tell her I haven’t left. Tell her I’m sorry and I love her. Will you do that?”

  “If I can.” Walter looked past him down the hillside into the camp. “Who are all those people? Is that the cast and crew?”

  “No. That’s just some hobo camp that took me in. I can stay here with them until something happens or they get run off.”

  Walter had never seen anything like it before and found himself staring at the strange but rather pretty sight of the small campfires against the oncoming night.

  “And, Walter, one more thing.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you have any money?”

  Startled at the request, he dug into his pockets and pulled out all he had.

  “Eighty-five cents.”

  “That’ll help.” Nicholas Knoles, star of stages throughout America and Europe, reached out his hand and snatched it from the boy. “That’ll help.”

  The gifts and letters and telegrams and notes of well-wishing continued to pour into the hospital until a special committee from the Ladies Auxiliary of Local Affairs volunteered to intercept them and manage the barrage of kindness. On the ground floor of the Faith Presbyterian Church, the largest in the city, they began to keep account of all the gifts and cards that Mt. Jefferson’s most famous visitor was generating. The church also became an information post on her medical status to help keep the corridors and front steps of the hospital clear. On her third night of hospitalization and exactly one week before Christmas Day, a community choir from all the neighboring churches gathered on the lawn under her window and sang carols. It was uplifting, depressing, thoughtful, and eerie all at the same time. Walter found himself either in the lobby or with the crowd every waking minute. He adroitly avoided being seen by Captain Bennington and was secretly trying to spot Dr. Larnette, who never seemed to come out of the building. It wasn’t until Monday evening just before the choir began to sing again that he saw the doctor getting out of his Oldsmobile runabout. Walter met him coming up the walkway.

  “Dr. Larnette, can I talk to you for just a minute?”

  Larnette stopped and looked at the boy and answered him with an upward toss of his head and the raising of his eyebrows.

  “Sir, I’m the one who came up to see Adrienne, ah, Mrs. Knoles the other morning. Can I see her again, please?”

  “She’s not in much shape to have visitors, and anyway you’d have to clear that with the police. Captain Bennington.”

  “He’ll never let me, sir. You’re the only one who can get me up there, and I really need to see her.”

  “Why, boy? Why do you need to see her?”

  Walter weighed quickly whether or not he could trust the truth with this stone-faced doctor. He didn’t know the right thing to do, but he knew he had to take a chance for Adrienne’s sake. When he started talking, he was not sure what his next word was going to be.

  “Captain Bennington doesn’t like me. He thinks I’m not telling him the truth about the shooting, but I am. Adrienne has nobody here to talk to. I’m her only friend. I really just need a couple of seconds just to let her know that I’m still here. I think it would mean a lot to her.”

  Dr. Larnette squinted at the boy and the expression on his face said he knew he was being handled but he thought it was for a good reason.

  “You come to the door in the back at six o’clock and be careful.”

  “Yes, sir, and thank you.”

  Walter was waiting in the shadows when the back door to the hospital opened and Dr. Larnette motioned him in. They went silently up the back stairs and down the hall to Adrienne’s room. When Walter had cleared the doorway, the doctor closed the door behind him without ever saying a word and disappeared down the hall.

  “Walter?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Did you find him?”

  “Well, actually he found me, but yes, we talked.”

  “And?”

  “He’s staying in a hobo camp by the rails just outside of town. He said to tell you he was sorry and that he wasn’t leaving.”

  “Walter, is it nice outside?”

  “Nice? It’s very cold. There’s still snow and ice on the ground.”

  “I wish it was spring. I love flowers, Walter. What’s your favorite flower?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I love roses. Are there any roses out there? Oh, but you said snow and ice. I guess there couldn’t be roses. Am I making any sense, Walter? I can’t tell.”

  “You’re doing just fine.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nick. Did he say anything else?”

  “Well, yes. He said to tell you he loves you.”

  Walter wasn’t sure she heard this last sentence because her eyes were closed. She had fallen back to sleep, giving into the haze of narcotics she had been constantly plied with these past few days. Her breathing was easy and Walter hoped the same for her pain.

  He touched her hand before he left.

  CHAPTER 24

  Colleen rode in the back of the ambulance with Milton. She thought he squeezed her hand at o
ne point. While one attendant worked on Milton, the other had his hands full keeping the emergency vehicle on the ice-covered streets. Colleen kept talking to her husband through it all, even though she had no idea what she was saying. Her mind was other places and on other times. She recalled the first time she’d met him. A summer dance at the pavilion in the park. It was June and he had on a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. The tie he had removed was hanging over his rearview mirror. His hair was long and he was chewing Cloves chewing gum.

  Funny the things you remember when you begin fearing that memories may be all you have left.

  Her girlfriend, Betty Jean Fauber, had introduced them, and they danced and talked for hours and he talked her into letting him take her home that first night. She refused as long as she could without offending him and finally allowed him to take her to Betty Jean’s house. This way Betty Jean could take her home later and she’d never have to explain to her parents why she got in the car with a man she had only known for a few hours. But hours was all it took. She was in love before she went to sleep that night. A couple of days later when her parents met him, they were just as taken as she. The only one in the family who wasn’t so easily impressed was her sister. Doris never liked Milton and never pretended to. They spoke and were pleasant to one another, but it ended there. Doris didn’t think he was good enough to be in the family. But, as their daddy had once said, given the chance, Doris could have found fault with John the Baptist.

  Then her mind jumped to Milton and her dad playing golf together on Wednesday afternoons. She saw visions of him serving Communion at church on Sunday mornings. She saw him in his annual Santa suit at the store. In his softball uniform. In his first pair of Bermuda shorts. In a tuxedo at his cousin’s wedding. In that white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. She could smell the shaving lotion he wore that night. She squeezed his hand and said a prayer and the attendant looked over at her and, thank God, smiled.

  When they arrived at the emergency room, Buddy and Lois Pence and the other policeman were waiting for them. Milton was whisked down a hallway and into a room and out of Colleen’s sight. Buddy took her by the arm and they all sat in the waiting room. There were only five other people in the room—an elderly woman in a tattered coat and tears being consoled by an apparent daughter and son-in-law, and a young mother walking a crying baby back and forth past the large frosted window, talking to her, trying to quiet her constant wailing. Colleen’s nerves, already near an edge, became more upset at these scenes and sights. Lois was Colleen’s surprising rock and comforter. Officer Tolley stood by the automatic sliding entranceway, and Buddy sat in a chair opposite her.

  “Buddy, did you call my sister?”

  “I talked to her husband. He said they would be right over.”

  As the door slid open, the doctor and his wife came in and went straight to Colleen. Doris kneeled in front of her and spoke in soft tones while Campbell Sterrett greeted Buddy and Lois.

  “Have you heard anything?” the doctor asked.

  “No.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Thanks.” Buddy sat back and waited. He hadn’t expected to see these people again tonight. He wanted to call Amanda and let her know what was going on but he didn’t want to leave Colleen just yet, even though her sister was here with her. For some reason he felt even more uneasy since she arrived. Doris looked in worse shape than Colleen. He only knew Doris from church and never had much contact with her before tonight except for one occasion when a patrolman brought her into the station, threatening arrest.

  He had been at his typewriter doing some late work when he heard a commotion at the front desk. He looked up and saw Officer Charles Banes leading a woman in by the arm who was yelling in his face. The thing Buddy remembered most about her rantings were the two sentences she kept repeating over and over, “Take your hands off me,” and “Do you know who I am?” A second look told Buddy he did know who she was and he walked out into the front desk area and asked what was going on.

  “She was driving without a license,” Officer Banes quickly explained.

  “I have a license. I just don’t have it with me.”

  “That’s the point of having one. You got to have it with you,” Banes said, while still holding on to her upper arm.

  “Take your hands off me and let me call my husband. He’ll bring it down here and settle this whole thing.”

  Banes didn’t give up easily. “He can bring it down here but that still don’t change the fact that you were driving without it.”

  Buddy stepped in to give some relief to both parties. “Officer Banes, I know this lady, and I’ll be responsible for her. Come back to my office, Mrs. Sterrett.” She followed Buddy to his cubicle and sat down in front of his desk.

  “Now tell me what this is all about.”

  Doris looked at him with a vacant stare. She spoke cautiously.

  “I got pulled over for speeding. Sixty in a thirty-five-mile-per-hour zone or so says the goon out there in the blue suit. He asked to see my license and registration and was very rude and cocky, I might add. I couldn’t find either and told him I was on my way home and if he would follow me, I’d show him when we got to the house. But he wouldn’t hear of that. He made me turn off the engine and get in the car with him and come down here, and here we are. I told him who my husband was but that didn’t faze him.”

  “Should it have?” Buddy felt some sympathy for the officer.

  “Well, you seem to know me so I suppose you know who my husband is. Dr. Campbell Sterrett.”

  “Yes, I know you, and I know who your husband is, but, Mrs. Sterrett, that doesn’t allow you to operate a moving vehicle without proper identification and a license.”

  Doris squinted at him and studied his face for a long twenty seconds and said, “Should I know who you are?”

  “Lt. Buddy Briggs. I go to church with you every Sunday morning.”

  “I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen you take up collection. And your wife is Juanita, the real pretty auburn-haired woman who always sits over on the left side.”

  “Amanda.”

  “Yes. Amanda.”

  Doris made this revelation without the slightest bit of embarrassment. She saw no need to apologize in being slow to recognize him or remember his wife’s name.

  “Mrs. Sterrett, I think I can make this whole thing go away with Officer Banes out there …”

  “Good.”

  “Let me finish. I can make it go away, run you home to get your permit, and smooth everything over with him. But what I can’t do is release your car to you tonight.”

  “And just why not?”

  “I have reason to believe if I insisted you take a test for alcohol consumption, you might have a little trouble passing. So why don’t you just let me handle everything and let this whole thing die down quietly. We’ll take you home and you can prove to Officer Banes you do indeed have a driver’s license and then tomorrow morning you can pick up your car and drive it home.”

  Doris stood and waited for Buddy to lead her back to the front desk and make the arrangements. Then she went with Charlie Banes through the double front doors of the Mt. Jefferson Police Station and into the night toward certain agony and discomfort at arriving home in a city-owned police cruiser. That’s what she did. What she didn’t do was thank the lieutenant for his kindness or ever speak to him at church on any subsequent Sunday morning.

  She hadn’t acknowledged his existence until this very night, just a few hours earlier in her own living room. Now she had no choice. She would soon be his little girl’s mother-in-law. She would soon be his grandchild’s other grandmother. She would soon be the person they would have to plan their Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas mornings and birthday parties around. Would she be easy to work with? He wasn’t expecting any miracles. As he sat watching the two sisters talk in low waiting-room tones, he became aware that one of them was raising the volume just a little.

 
; Looking out the window toward the automatic door, Doris said, “Who called them?”

  “Buddy called them. I felt like I needed him here.”

  Doris turned her cold bloodshot stare on Buddy, “Did you call them?”

  Buddy finally realized whom she was talking about. Coming in the door and around the corner toward them were Paul and Dove Franklin. It was nearly one a.m. Their presence attested to the loyalty and care they showed to the members of their congregation. Colleen stood to greet them and they hugged and offered words of comfort.

  A nurse came out and escorted the elderly woman, her daughter, and her son-in-law to one of the rooms at the end of the darkened hall. The young mother, who had walked the crying baby down to a coo and a whisper, was told they could come back, and the same nurse showed her where to go. This left the Milton Sandridge party of seven, which were engaged in intervals of sporadic conversation and awkward silence. At one low point of small talk, Dr. Sterrett came back into the room to an immediate hush in anticipation of news. He addressed Colleen, but spoke for all to hear.

  “Milton has had a minor stroke. That sounds worse than it really is. There is no reason to believe he will not fully recover. It may take some time. A couple of months maybe, but he is going to be just fine.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Colleen was visibly relieved. “Did you see him, Campbell?”

  “Just for a second. Dr. Paxton is seeing to him. He’s a good man. I offered to help in any way I could, although it’s not really in my line. But he has everything under control, and I think you should be able to see him before long.”

  “Surely they’re going to keep him.”

  “Oh, yes. He’ll be here for at least a week I’d think. Maybe longer. But you just relax, and in about a half an hour, you’ll be able to go back and see him.”