Almost As Much (The Cherished Memories Book 3)

by Linda Ellen

  Shaking her head free of those sad thoughts, Louise aimed her mind at Fleet’s husband – Vic’s best friend, Alec. Although the jokester of the gang, he nonetheless loved his wife, son, and new baby daughter, and had never left his wife’s side during the losses of her immediate family. In a way, it had been surprising that Fleet had mourned as she had, since she had never been particularly close to her parent and grandparent. But, Louise figured, perhaps Fleet had nurtured dreams and hopes that things would change – and now it was too late.

  Her hair nearly dry, Louise stepped over to the bed and lifted her new dress, a soft wide-strapped white sundress with tiny purple grapes in the design, and purple corded trim around the perimeter of the wide skirt, the rounded neckline, and arm holes. A narrow matching belt synched in Louise’s small waist.

  Styling her hair into attractive waves that curved at the nape of her neck and around her ears, Louise retrieved her amethyst necklace from the dresser top and fastened the clasp around her neck before searching her jewelry box for a pair of earrings to match it. Unaccustomed to wearing earrings unless she dressed up, a frown creased her brow as she tried to remember where she might have a pair. Maybe my memory chest…

  Opening the bottom drawer of her dresser, she retrieved the little cedar hope chest that held her most treasured memories and schooled herself to look through it and not sink into reminiscences of the past. Gently placing it on the bed, she caressed the intricately engraved top, faltering at the small cigarette burn on one edge, courtesy of her younger brother, Billy. Oh, how she had fussed at him for that!

  She lifted the clasp opening the top, the mirror inside the lid immediately reflecting back the attractive picture she made in her new dress. Her image smiled in satisfaction as she began to rummage through the contents for the sought-after earrings.

  Over the years, more items had been added to the small treasure-trove inside the box. Valentine cards Vic had given her, each one with a cute private note; tiny envelopes with a snippet of baby hair from each of her babies; post cards from her brother, Sonny, when he had been in the Merchant Marines during WWII; a leftover ration booklet from the War years; photographs of her daddy, Willis, and of her sister Edna, her husband, and her children, who still resided in Brooklyn, New York; two small photo booklets from their one big vacation trip to Miami Beach two summers before. Louise paused in her search to take these out and flip through the black and white pictures of herself and Vic, along with their good friends, Detective John Womack and his wife Josephine.

  Louise’s eyes lingered on a photo of a sun-bronzed, virile Vic, wearing dark plaid swimming trunks and reclining on a tiny towel, squinting up at her in the hot Florida sun. There had never been another man who could stir her feelings with just a look and a wink from those twinkling brown eyes – and he could still do it when he chose. And that strong, barrel chest, oh my…

  Memories flashed in her mind as she gazed at his likeness…Vic had laughed and reached out to take the camera from her, tossing it on the towel. He’d grabbed her hand, and ran with her toward the water. She had squealed with delight as he had scooped her up and slung her into the ocean waves before diving in after her. They had spent quite a while frolicking in the warm seawater, and indulging in stolen kisses and fond caresses until their friend John had teasingly hollered that he would arrest them for indecent shenanigans in public.

  Louise brought the photo to her chest for a quick hug before closing the paper case and continuing her search. Where are those blasted earrings?

  At last, in the bottom right corner, she found what she was looking for – a pair of clip-on’s with purple stones – costume jewelry, but quite pretty. Maybe some day Vic will get me a real set to go with my necklace…

  Just then, a knock sounded at the front door. Louise’s eyes flew to the clock on the nightstand. It was 5:45! I bet that’s Earl and Ruth and the kids. He always likes to get everywhere early.

  Quickly replacing items back into the little chest, Louise closed and stashed it away again in the bottom drawer, dabbed a spot of Emeraude behind each ear, checked her hair one more time, slipped into a pair of white sandals, and hurried to the living room.

  As she swung the front door open and stepped back with a big smile to allow their friends to enter, she fumed silently, I hope Vic and Tommy are on their way!

  ‡

  CHAPTER 2

  The Celebration

  The body of the old ’48 Chevy half-ton pickup shimmied as Vic pressed the brake and clutch, shifting into neutral as the cars ahead stopped for another stoplight.

  Glancing over at the teen in the passenger seat – his beloved stepson and co-worker, Tommy Blankenbaker – Vic blew out a frustrated huff as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled a cigarette out of the pack. “Blasted rush-hour traffic gets worse everyday,” he grumbled out of the side of his mouth as he held the flame of his polished Dunhill lighter to the end of the cigarette. The sweet, pungent smell of lighter fluid wafted quickly away. “That’s one thing that’s good about headin’ home at nine o’clock – it’s a smooth sail straight down Shelbyville Road, all the way to the house.”

  “Yeah, and cooler when the sun goes down. Just wish home wasn’t a half hour away,” Tommy replied as he raked a hand back through his damp hair, the moisture making it look darker than its actual light brown. Vic gazed at him, thinking his hair was a bit too long, but knowing that with helping out at the station full-time every day since school had let out, the boy hadn’t the time to go for a haircut. He’d have to soon. Vic knew Tommy’s thick wavy mass of hair always made him feel hotter in the humid dog days of summer.

  “Yep,” Vic agreed, flipping his lighter closed with a clink and running his thumb over the engraved letters of his father’s name. It was an unconscious habit he had maintained for decades. The lighter he had inherited from his father was still one of his most prized possessions.

  Waiting for the light to change, Vic wondered, as he had many times in the past, what his father, if he had lived, would think of the man his youngest son had become…

  Tommy’s bright blue gaze flickered toward his stepfather’s profile for a moment, watching as he drew on the cig and turned his head to blow the smoke out the open driver-side window. He debated for a moment whether or not to speak what was on his mind.

  “Hey Chief…” he finally murmured, using the nickname he had called his stepfather since the day Vic and Louise had married. “You think Oscar’ll remember everything you told him to do when he closes up for the night? I mean…what if he don’t shut the pumps off, or…” he paused, his eyes squinting a bit when he saw the muscle at Vic’s jaw twitch as he ground his teeth together.

  “Let’s just hope he does.”

  Picturing his latest employee’s clumsiness and happy-go-lucky naiveté, Vic shut his eyes with a grimace. He hadn’t wanted to entrust the station to the new guy so soon, but he had promised Louise he’d knock off early. Maybe he should have just closed up ahead of schedule and not worried about the lost profit…

  As the light changed, cars began to move, and he laid his hand on the small gearshift knob, maneuvering it into first as he added, “Guess it wouldn’t hurt to write out a checklist of how to close up…post it on the wall by the door.”

  “Good idea,” Tommy mumbled in agreement, turning his head to gaze out the window at the passing streets as they rolled along toward home.

  Vic glanced over again at the young man, a half smile curving one side of his mouth as he thought of what a blessing he had turned out to be. The fact of who the boy’s sire had been never crossed his mind anymore. Tommy was a hard worker, a quick-learner, and sharp as a tack. Vic didn’t have to worry if he might forget a step. Oh, he wasn’t perfect – who was? But Tommy was darn good.

  Vic knew he was fortunate not only to call him his son, but also to have him on his team. He didn’t want to even think about the fact that school would be starting up in a few weeks and he would lose his right-hand man. Eyes
forward again, Vic mused for a moment at how fast the years were whooshing by, kind of like one of those MiG-15 jets Korea had used in the last war. How could sweet little Tommy, his little Kemo Sabe, already be sixteen, as tall as Vic himself, and driving?

  With that thought, Vic glanced over at him and murmured, “Hey pal, I forgot I was gonna let you drive home…”

  Tommy flashed him a grin, raising one hand in a wave-off gesture. “Don’t worry ’bout it. For once, I’m too beat to cruise.”

  Vic let out a soft chuckle as he focused again on the road.

  Going through the motions of driving, his mind dwelt on the myriad of ever-present responsibilities. He never felt truly “off duty”, as even when he was at home and in bed, his mind was still at work, worrying about the hundreds of details of running the service station. Would there be enough gas to last until the tanker came again; would he get enough business to pay the bills for the month; would he be able to handle all of the mechanic work, especially since he was practically teaching himself as he went along; would he get many more impossible customers like one he’d had last week – elderly Mrs. Dorchester – who put on airs like she was one of the Vanderbilt’s, and treated him like a servant. Then to top it off, she had complained loud and long about the bill, when he had to replace a dozen parts on her car! It had taken every bit of control he could muster not to lose his temper while dealing with her. But he’d held it. Used up half a pack of cigarettes doing it, but he’d done it.

  Raking his hand back through his hair with a soft snort, he thought about the string of part-time help he had hired. One after another had proven less than desirable. The first guy, as soon as Vic would leave the lot, would pull his own car in a bay and work on it, or fill it up with gas, oil, and who-knows-what-else, without asking or paying. The next had stolen tools when Vic had left him to close up, and the guy hadn’t bothered to show up for work the next morning, having skipped town. That had taken a chunk out of the week’s receipts, replacing what was pinched. Another fellow had the absolute worst customer service personality and had practically run off many of Vic’s regulars – and man oh man – he’d had to really bow and scrape to make that right again. He lost count of the free lube jobs and free car washes he had doled out to get back into their good graces.

  After that, he had hired John Womack’s son JD – who turned out to be one of the laziest young men Vic had ever encountered. He’d even caught the guy taking naps in the middle of the day! Vic suspected the boy was hooked on marijuana or something, as several times he had thought he’d smelled it on him. Thank Heavens, JD had found something else to do and Vic hadn’t had to risk his friendship with John to get him out of there.

  Now, however, he had Oscar. The poor, clumsy fellow seemed to have two left feet, two left hands, and tended to see everything upside down or backward.

  With a tired sigh, Vic shook his head, negotiating the transition to Story Avenue. Flexing his shoulder muscles, he reached up with his left hand to try and rub away a crick that was radiating across both shoulders – a result of reaching overhead for an extended period as he struggled to break loose a rusted bolt on the underside of a car on the lift.

  The thought of what awaited him at home made him almost wish he had called Louise and told her to cancel, as he was so tired all he wanted to do was rest. But…he couldn’t do that to her. He knew she had put a lot of time and effort into planning this party for the one-year anniversary of the opening of the station, and he didn’t want to disappoint her. As it was, he had headed home later than he’d promised, so she was probably fit to be tied right about now…

  Louise…picturing his wife made the corners of his mouth tip up in a smile. Even when she was irritated and griping about something, she was still the best thing in his life. Still a looker even after three kids and fourteen years of marriage, her beautiful smile lit up a room. He had to admit, she had made a great wife. She was a good mother and a great cook. She kept the house clean…well, Lilly helped too, but Louise did most of the work. Louise always had something interesting to say, and she usually knew what he was thinking and feeling, as was true of the reverse.

  A tiny frown furrowed his brow when that thought passed through his mind. Lately, something had been kind of…off…with his lovely wife. He wasn’t sure what it was. She seemed…frustrated? Dissatisfied? On edge? He’d been so preoccupied with his unending responsibilities at the station and hardly ever having had time off that he found himself in the position of not being privy to his wife’s thoughts and feelings.

  Pursing his lips, he thought back on the changes in these past few weeks…

  She’d been snappy and cross with him on quite a few occasions. With no advance warning or a word that she was even thinking about it, she had suddenly cut her hair short. He knew his reaction when he had walked in the door that night and looked at her wasn’t what she had been hoping for, but it had been such a surprise. She had bought quite a few new dresses and outfits lately – which they could barely afford – and she seemed to be experimenting with new recipes and foods. It used to be that he knew what they would have for supper that night by what day of the week it happened to be, however, now it could be almost anything…some good, some downright terrible. Of course, not wanting to hurt her feelings he never let on if he didn’t like something she’d made. And since he normally didn’t make it home until 9:30 or later, he often had to eat his food warmed over, which hadn’t helped.

  Frustration threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn’t exactly planned on keeping the station open seven days a week – hadn’t given that aspect much thought when he’d been hot on the heels of pursuing his bold venture. But he had quickly realized that the weekends were his biggest moneymaking days – and who closed a service station during the week? Of course, the plan was for him to find help that he could trust so he could take a day off now and then, but so far, that hadn’t worked out. Had that been his fault? Why can’t she see how hard this is for me? Sometimes I feel like I’m in way over my head and I’m worn out treadin’ water…

  His eyes narrowed as he stewed.

  *

  The small house seemed to be overflowing with people, making the temperature inside the structure just that much hotter. It wasn’t long before they all spilled out into the back yard, where the air was a few degrees cooler now that the sun was a bit lower in the sky – and where one could feel at least a tiny breeze now and then. That was probably due to the fact that they weren’t all that many blocks from the river.

  Oh bless him, that Ol’ Man River, who was at times both Louisville’s friend and enemy.

  Louise backed her way out onto the back porch holding a tray piled high with picnic items – potato salad, baked beans, sliced fruit, and hamburger buns ready to be filled with juicy burgers hot off the grill.

  She smiled her thanks at John Womack as he held the outer door for her, and even reached to relieve her of the tray.

  “I got this, where do you want it?”

  “Over here,” Louise indicated a well-used, borrowed picnic table Lilly had covered with a checkered cloth to hide the stains and gouges. Scattered around the table sat folding chairs and stools.

  Earl, Alec and Doc stood together at the grill, laughing at something Alec had no doubt said as he flipped burgers – in Vic’s stead. He had been right, though, when he’d said Vic would have probably been too tired to perform the duty, even if he was there. So, being the friend that he was, he offered to oblige.

  Louise glanced down at her watch. 6:15. She could feel her aggravation trying to rise to the surface and boil over. Couldn’t he drag himself away from that blasted station early – just once?

  Forcing a smile at her friend Ruth as she appeared by her side, the two began unloading the tray and arranging items on the table as Ruth murmured, “Relax. He’ll get here when he gets here. Everything’ll be okay.”

  Buddy and Jimmy ran by, along with Ruth and Earl’s two youngest, Gina and Terry. Fleet was still in the
house, feeding a bottle to her youngest – a little girl they had named Alexa.

  Everyone was laughing and having a good time…except that the guest of honor hadn’t arrived yet.

  *

  Fifteen minutes later, Vic turned the pickup into the alley and let it roll to a stop in the parking area behind the back fence.

  “Mama! Daddy and Tommy are home!” Buddy hollered as he jumped up from his seat at the table and trotted back to open the gate.

  “Everybody’s here Daddy…and Mama’s mad cause you’re late,” the boy informed his dad as Vic passed through the opening.

  Vic smiled down at his namesake, Victor Herbert Matthews, Jr., nicknamed “Buddy” by a neighbor friend when the boy had been only weeks old, and reached out a work-roughened hand to feel the top of his head, specifically the close-cropped hair.

  “Your mama got you scalped again, huh son?”

  Buddy giggled as he stepped near to give his dad a quick hug around his waist. “Yep. School’s gonna start in a few weeks,” he replied, tilting his head back to gaze up at his beloved daddy. His eyes twinkled happily that Vic was finally home for the night – and earlier than usual. He was glad that it wouldn’t be one of those evenings when he would have to feign wanting a glass of water, to steal a few moments of greeting with his father.

  “She said she wanted to beat the rush down at the barber’s.”

  “Mmm,” Vic answered with a nod as his friends began to holler and wave for him to join them. Vic nodded and waved back, sharing a quick, tired glance with Tommy as they made their way forward.