by Linda Ellen
Nodding as the thought cemented in his mind, he made the decision to call the bank first thing in the morning and see about the possibility of actually buying their first house.
He couldn’t wait to close up and go home so he could tell Louise the news.
If that’ll put the spark back in those beautiful hazel eyes of hers…the sooner the better!
‡
CHAPTER 4
An Empty Nest and an Answered Prayer
Louise held the screen door open for Lilly to step inside, both of the women carrying brown paper sacks full of groceries.
“I’ll go back out and get the rest,” Louise murmured as they headed on into the kitchen. She wiped a bit of perspiration off her forehead with the back of one hand. “I sure miss the boys helping,” she added, fighting off the melancholy that threatened to consume. Little Jimmy starting school the week before had been difficult for her – indeed, vastly more distressing than either of the other boy’s first day. She had stood gazing through the little window of the door to his class with tears running down her cheeks as he settled in, so excited to actually be in school like his brothers. When she had finally made herself leave, she had gone home and thrown herself on the bed for a good cry. Everywhere she looked in the house, something reminded her of one of the kids. My babies are growing up too fast!
With a huff of determination, she shook off her gloomy thoughts and headed back out to the car. It isn’t like me to be so weepy. I can’t understand…why can’t I get a hold of myself? One would think by the way she was acting that she was pregnant, but she knew with certainty that she was not.
Lilly glanced over at her daughter as she came through the back door a few minutes later with the last of their purchases. Angling her head in a knowing nod as she perused Louise’s face, she murmured, “It’s just a touch of empty nest syndrome. You’ll get over it.” With that, she gathered things to put away in the bathroom and hall closet, and left the room.
Louise watched her mother’s retreating form with a wry shake of her head. All business, just like always. If a person didn’t know better, you’d think that woman didn’t have an ounce of sympathy in her veins. But even as those words entered her mind, she felt guilty. Louise knew her mother’s life hadn’t been a happy one – married at sixteen to a man she didn’t love who ended up being abusive, running from him with her two children and having to make a life for herself, then marrying Louise’s father, Willis, who was twelve years her senior – not to mention the trauma surrounding her sister Edna’s birth. Over the years Lilly had softened some, especially after their heart-to-heart talk when Tommy had been only two. Even so, there were times when Louise had to sternly remind herself to consider the source in regard to anything her mother might say or do.
Setting out the ingredients for that night’s supper – fried chicken – Louise forced herself to think on good things. The dinner would be a celebration, both of little Jimmy’s first week in school, and Vic’s wonderful news that the bank had okayed a loan amount for them to begin looking to buy their first house. They were already scouring the newspaper daily for houses for sale, although the kind of house Louise wanted – and the location – versus what they could afford, was presenting a problem.
Pausing and raising her eyes to gaze out the window over the sink, Louise let her mind drift back to the evening after the anniversary party when Vic had come home early to tell her his news.
They were snuggled together on the cushioned glider on the back porch. The rest of the family was inside the house watching their second-hand RCA television, which Vic had acquired from a customer in exchange for some car repairs not long after he had opened the station. Black and white, with only a twelve-inch screen, it was nonetheless an exciting step-up for the formally radio-only family. The kids adored watching their favorite shows and seeing the characters in action rather than just listening and using their imagination. Little Jimmy immediately became the official ‘rabbit ears’ adjuster, a responsibility he performed with earnest care.
Drifting on the evening air, the couple could hear the boys’ laughter as they watched the antics of the Jack Benny program. It warmed the parents’ hearts to hear their children enjoying themselves.
The late summer storm from earlier in the day had slowed to just a drizzle, the water dripping mesmerizingly off the eaves of the house and the roof of the porch. It was soothing and comfortable. With a relaxed sigh, Louise nuzzled against her husband; arms around his ribs, her head nestled in the curve of his shoulder and neck.
“It’s so nice out here,” she murmured softly, eyes contently shut. All during the day, she had been giving herself a stern talking to, and was immensely relieved that the stresses of late had receded some. Then to have Vic walk in the door hours earlier than she had expected him seemed like an answer to prayer. “I know we need the business, but…I’m glad you closed up early and came home. It’s been so long since we could just relax together like this…I’ve missed it.”
“Me, too,” he murmured, tightening his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
They were silent for a few minutes, just enjoying the night. The clean fresh scent of the air after the day of rain, the good meal Louise and Lilly had prepared, and now the sound of the giggling joy of their boys, all worked together to provide a little bit of heaven on earth.
“Babe…I’m sorry things haven’t been workin’ out like I thought they would. You know I don’t wanna be spendin’ every day away from you and the kids, don’t ya?”
She nodded, turning her head a bit to press a tiny kiss to the warm skin above the neck of the tee shirt he had donned after his evening shower. He’d even put on aftershave, and the heavenly scent of Old Spice wafted around Louise and made her snuggle in more. She almost felt like purring.
“I did a lot of thinkin’ today and I made some decisions,” he continued. “I’m gonna call the bank in the morning and talk to ’em about getting a loan so we can buy us our first house – closer to the station. That’ll ease the stress of travelin’ so much every day…and I can come home for lunch once in a while…maybe even have some dessert with my baby,” he added in a husky, sensuously teasing tone, squeezing her a bit tighter.
She leaned her head back and met his eyes, smoky and dark in the dusky light of evening. “Oh Vic, that sounds wonderful.”
A soft smile made his eyes twinkle in the dim light as he brought up his left hand and gently touched her face with his fingertips. “You’re my world, babe. I love you…and I hate it that it seems like the station has been driving a wedge between us lately.” He had stopped short of admitting he almost wished he were still employed by Hap at the downtown parking lot. That would sound like he was giving up on his dream and he didn’t want her to lose faith in him or in his abilities.
“I love you too, Vic,” Louise whispered, her eyes stinging a bit as the beauty of the moment resounded deep within her heart. She hadn’t realized just how much she had missed her husband’s normally romantic words and gestures. This was more like the Vic she had always known. The thought crossed her mind that she had begun to feel as if he wasn’t the same person, but had turned into a tension-filled workaholic.
He smiled lovingly, leaning to press his lips softly against hers. After the sweet, love-affirming kiss, he pulled back a bit and resettled her into his arms. She grasped his left hand and brought it up to her lips as she laid her head against his chest, absently pressing a kiss to each finger – including the one that was missing its tip from the frightening accident he’d had at the CCC camp so many years ago.
Vic drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as more of the tension evaporated from his body. He rubbed one hand gently up and down her arm as he stared out into the wet backyard, past the slow drips from the porch’s eaves. “Oscar did okay closing last night,” he murmured softly, almost as if he were thinking out loud.
Glad that for once in a long while, talking about the station wasn’t causing more st
ress, Louise opened her eyes and just listened, focusing on his words as he continued. “I couldn’t see anything he forgot when I opened up this morning. But…I need somebody sharp that I can rely on when I drive off the lot.”
“I know…” she sighed softly.
“Trouble is, those kinda’ men cost more than I can pay right now…” he began.
“Doc mentioned to us as we were leaving church this morning that he’s going to pray hard that you find the right man for the job,” she admitted, adding with a soft smile, “I think he was worried about us last night during the party.”
“Yeah…I feel so torn sometimes about not goin’ to church. I ought to be taking my family to church. Once we find a place and move, maybe I can open at 1:00 on Sundays or something…”
“Yes, that would…” she paused as Jimmy came running out of the kitchen door and flung himself onto the glider with them.
“You gotta come! The Ed Sull’van Show is comin’ on next! They’re gonna have Dee Martn’ an’ Jerry Lews on!” he gushed. “Jerry Lews is so funny. C’mon! You’re gonna miss it!” he insisted, grasping a hand from each of his parents and trying to tug them up from their comfortable spot.
Vic laughed and reached over to ruffle the closely trimmed hair of his youngest, giving him a wink. “That’s Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, son. You go on, we’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Okay Daddy!” Jimmy giggled, scrambling off the settee and retracing his steps. His boundless energy never seemed to abate.
The parents looked at one another and Vic shrugged good-naturedly. “So much for relaxin’ on the porch, huh?”
Louise opened her mouth to suggest that they linger in their comfortable spot with the hopes that their presence would be overlooked, but they both heard their youngest bellow from inside, “Scoot over, Buddy – Daddy’s gonna watch Ed Sull’van with us!”
Vic shook his head with a fond chuckle and stood to his feet. Reaching down to grasp both of Louise’s hands, he tugged her up, immediately enveloping her in a tight, full embrace. Pulling back, his mouth covered hers for a toe-curling kiss that absolutely took her breath away. Before releasing her, he growled playfully in her ear, “For once, tonight I don’t give a flyin’ flip about who’s on Sullivan.”
Louise laughed softly as her arms wound around her husband and squeezed tightly…
“I’m glad to see you smiling again,” Lilly’s voice murmured nearby, bringing Louise out of her daydream to realize she was still standing at the sink, her arms wrapped around her middle.
Focusing on her mother, Louise sent her a soft smile.
*
Vic grunted as he strained to break a bolt loose, under yet another car balanced on the lift. As he heard the driveway bell sound off with its double ding, the wrench slipped, causing him to bang his knuckles against the frame. He clamped his teeth together and ground out a choice word, but was glad that Oscar was on duty to pump gas for the apparent customer. Flinging his hand back and forth to lessen the pain, he forced himself to focus on the music coming from the radio on the workbench in the corner. His favorite singer/musician, Louie “Satchmo” Armstrong was, at that moment, belting out the lyrics to Dream a Little Dream of Me. Vic drew in a deep breath and clamped his hands on his hips.
Lately, his thoughts had been constantly straying to his fetching wife, whom he had left that morning a bit saddened by the rut she had found herself in since their youngest son was now in school. She had clung to Vic as he prepared to head out to work, and it had taken quite a bit of restraint not to stay home and be a comfort to her. Humming along with the gravel-voiced jazzman as he sang to his ladylove of fading stars and craving her kisses, sunbeams and leaving all her worries behind her, Vic glanced over at the round clock on the wall and wished it was time to close up shop and go home.
“Still goofin’ off instead ’a workin’, huh Chief?” a familiar voice drawled from the direction of the open bay door.
Vic turned as he reached for the ever-present rag in his back pocket, his face transforming into a wide flashing grin. A familiar lanky form relaxed against the edge of the doorway, hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets and one foot nonchalantly crossed over the other.
“As the kids say nowadays, What’s buzzin’, cuzzin’?”
“Floyd Grimes, you seven times a son of a gun! Where’d you come from?” Vic greeted his long time friend, moving forward and reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “I ain’t heard from you since I saw you last year, down at the parking lot. You still in the service?”
Vic grinned at his old pal from his days in the CCC’s – the Civilian Conservation Corps – taking silent assessment of how good or bad the years had been. Floyd’s white teeth gleamed from that familiar face, still a pleasant hue of café au lait. His round eyes, the shade of rich dark coffee beans, were fringed with black lashes and twinkling merrily, although Vic could see lines of age and strain around them that the years had inflicted. But then, Vic knew he bore the same signs of maturity on his own face. Floyd had filled out some since his days as a carefree skinny youth of twenty-one, and his close-cropped hair showed a hint of gray in the soft charcoal.
“Mustered out this mornin’,” Floyd answered, turning to see what vehicle had tripped the driveway bell again. The late-model Ford honked and Vic raised a hand in greeting, even as he watched Oscar amble over to see to the customer’s needs.
Indicating the large Coca Cola chest-type cooler situated on a concrete slab outside the wall between bays one and two, Vic offered, “Somethin’ to drink?”
“Sho’ thing,” Floyd answered, watching as Vic opened the cold bottle of coke and passed it to him before securing one for himself and shutting the lid.
“So…” Vic began, pausing to take a long draw of his drink. “You got a place to stay yet?”
Floyd gulped down a mouthful of Coke and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Not yet. Figured I’d grab me a room down at ’de Y fer now. Gots my saving’s in my wallet, and all my worldly goods packed in my ride,” he added, jutting his chin over his shoulder toward a 1950 mint green Packard, parked off to the side of the lot.
“That’s yours? Nice car, man,” Vic complimented, casting an eye toward the vehicle. “Goin’ in the army was a good choice for you. You did good for yourself.”
Floyd gave a carefree shrug. “Might say.”
“Where’d you get your Packard?”
Floyd flashed one of his mischievous grins. “Won her off a sergeant playin’ poker, on the base back in Jacksonville.”
Vic whistled, muttering a few colorful words. “You jokin’? Aw man, you ain’t still pullin’ that I don’t know nothing, I ain’t no good at this game swindle, are ya?”
Floyd tipped back his head and laughed. “Naw man. Was just a case of I was lucky and he was cocky. Won that babe with a straight flush. He was holdin’ three aces and thought he had me by the short hairs. Dude shouldn’t a’ tossed his pink slip in on that last call, but hey – I ain’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, know what I’m sayin’?” he chuckled as Vic let out a laugh and raised his bottle in salute.
“But hey…what’d you put up?”
Before Floyd could answer, a car pulled into the station’s lot, dinging the bell, and causing Vic to remember his duties. “Aw man, I gotta get those shocks on. I promised it by six, and I don’t have any mechanic help, so it’s all on me.” As he headed under the rack again, he glanced at his friend, “You got plans?”
Floyd reached up to give his head a scratch, an unconscious habit Vic recognized from their younger days. “Well, Chief…I been thinkin’ a lot about it…you know I gots me some ’sperience workin’ on ’dem army trucks…” he paused, gesturing toward the two vehicles parked in the station’s bays.
Vic realized what he meant and it saddened him that he would have to turn his friend down. His eyes met the other man’s. “Floyd…look…I’d like to take you on. More than anything, I would. It’d be great to work togeth
er again. I know you’d be good at it, but…I just ain’t makin’ enough profit yet. I can barely afford to meet all the bills, keep a roof over my head, and pay Oscar there,” he added with a nod toward the man pumping gas. “Why, thing’s been so bad, it was just last week that I got a business telephone in here. From the day I opened last year, I was stuck with a pay phone. You talk about a pain in the you-know-where.” He chuckled and shook his head, muttering a colorful word. “Just to save a dime, if I wanted to call home, I’d let it ring twice and hang up and Louise’d call me back for free!”
Floyd opened his mouth to answer, but Oscar chose that moment to holler, “Hey Boss! This man here wants to talk to you.”
Vic, who had picked up a wrench to begin working under the elevated vehicle, let it drop with a clang and did an about face, making his way out to meet and shake hands with the visitor. Mr. Jason Lockridge, was a stocky, balding, well-dressed, cigar-smoking man who appeared to be in his middle fifties. He turned out to be a representative of the U-Haul Trailer Rental System, a ten-year-old company that provided one-way rental trailers to customers nationwide.
It couldn’t have worked out better – one would even think the timing was God-engineered. On the very day that Floyd showed up hoping to hook up with his old CCC pal, Vic was offered a way for the station to make extra money. One catch was that the U-Haul venture operated strictly on a cash basis, no checks or credit cards, and precise paperwork needed to be kept. However, the profit potential sounded like a dream come true. Vic didn’t have to think twice about the endeavor, since the fact was at least once a day, sometimes twice, somebody came into the station asking if he had any kind of trailer they could use to move their furniture. No one wanted to pay the moving companies’ big fees.