Almost As Much (The Cherished Memories Book 3)

by Linda Ellen

  At that moment, life was good.

  *

  Christmas morning dawned cloudy and cold, with six inches of white powdery snow already on the ground and the air heavy with the promise of more.

  Just as the sun was trying to peak over the horizon, two dark-haired, dark-eyed little boys sprang out of bed and raced into the living room of the house on Granvil Drive to see what Santa Claus had brought during the night. There in front of the sparkling Christmas tree stood a striking red and black Firestone Super Cruiser bicycle, with training wheels attached. A big tag hung from the handlebars that read, “For Buddy, From Santa.” Buddy squealed with delight and ran toward it, while Jimmy eagerly looked around the room, hoping he had received one as well.

  Vic and Louise awakened simultaneously as they heard the commotion. Their eyes met, each one smiling indulgently as they climbed out of bed and put on their robes for the start of an early day. Meeting Tommy in the hall, with Lilly stepping out of the other bedroom and tying the belt on her robe, they crept down the hall and peeked around the corner, watching the two youngest as they gleefully honked the bike’s horn and marveled at all of its features. Jimmy was busy trying to get Buddy to allow him to sit on it.

  “Looks like that was a good choice,” Vic whispered in Louise’s ear. She nodded against his cheek and gave his hands, which were wrapped around her middle, a squeeze.

  Moving on into the room to join the festivities, Buddy looked over and exclaimed, “Look what Santa brought me!”

  Jimmy, however, came toward his parents, lower lip sticking out sadly. “Santa brought Buddy a bicycle…but he didn’t bring me one…”

  “Oh Jimmy, honey,” Louise crooned softly as she sat down on the couch and reached out to pull him into her arms. “Didn’t you see what Santa brought you?” she asked as she gestured to the other side of the tree, where a large stuffed bear sat perched inside the back of a pedal car fashioned after a 1955 Volkswagen pickup truck. Like a Volkswagen microbus with the back end opened up as a truck bed, it was painted red and white, with the U-Haul Company logo emblazoned on the side.

  Jimmy walked over to it and removed the bear. Tucking it under one arm, he reached to touch the top of the cab and pouted in disappointment. “But it’s a pedal car. Don’t Santa know I’m six and a half now? Pedal cars’re for babies,” he commented with a scowl.

  Louise exchanged glances with Vic, and he gave her an I-told-you-so look. When he had told her about the U-Haul Dealer Incentive he had received from the company – a brand new, shiny, custom-made pedal car – she had begged him to bring it home for their youngest instead of raffling it off, the way most dealers would have. He had tried to talk her into getting Jimmy a bicycle, as they had for Buddy, but she had adamantly insisted that Jimmy was too little and she didn’t want him to fall and get hurt. If Vic had one weakness, it was that he could never deny Louise anything she truly wanted and begged him for – if it was in his power to do it.

  Vic knew his wife had never gotten over the fact that their youngest son had been born with a hernia, and had cried and screamed nearly every day of his life until he was a year old and the doctors had found the problem. As a result, from the time he had recovered from his surgery, Louise had handled him with kid gloves, so afraid that he would hurt himself. The problem, however, was that little Jimmy had a mind of his own and he was all boy – which meant he forged ahead to do rough and tumble things like all the other boys. The taut reins Louise tried to keep on him only seemed to cinch tighter and tighter as he grew. He had just begun to try his wings and squirm out from under her thumb a bit once he had started school.

  Louise resisted this with all her strength, often jokingly lamenting to Vic that she wanted to keep her boys as babies forever. At times, he wondered if she were truly jesting or not.

  Trying to smooth things over about the pedal car blunder, Vic moved to ruffle Jimmy’s hair. “Maybe you’ll get a bicycle for your birthday in July…providin’ you behave till then…”

  Jimmy’s mood immediately lifted and he squeezed himself inside the brightly painted truck, one arm still holding the large stuffed bear. He pressed the horn button on the steering wheel and it emitted a beep beep sound. With a giggle, he worked the pedals to ride it around the living room. With the Christmas tree and other items now filling up the space, it was a chore for him to find room to maneuver.

  “Whoa there, Tiger,” Vic chuckled as he stepped out of the way just in time. He leaned to keep his balance as Jimmy squeezed past in the truck, accompanied by a rascally giggle.

  Tommy held up one leg for Jimmy to ‘drive’ under, and then had to scramble to sidestep as Buddy came zooming by on his new bicycle on his way into the kitchen. The teen shook his head and chuckled, thinking, what a day to be snowed in, as his little brothers filled the house with joyous racket. But I wouldn’t trade them for the world, he added silently, as happy giggles drifted in from a ‘crash’ in the kitchen.

  Now that everyone was awake and up, they gathered around the tree to begin opening their presents.

  Sixteen-year-old Tommy received an RCA Victrola record player, inside its own carrying case, along with a nice supply of records, including Rock Around the Clock by Bill Haley and the Comets, and Sixteen Tons by Tennessee Ernie Ford. Pleased with his gift, he hugged his dad and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek before immediately putting one of the records on the turntable, a little ditty by an up-and-coming young singer named Elvis Presley.

  As the rockabilly music of Blue Moon of Kentucky began, Tommy grinned mischievously and started moving his feet to the beat as he gyrated over to his grandmother, who had just settled herself on the couch. Taking her hands, he pulled her to her feet and danced her around the room, singing along with the record – and doing a fine imitation of Elvis’ voice. After just a minute, Lilly laughed and pulled out of his grip. “That’s enough dancing for me, young man,” she huffed with a chuckle. She fanned herself and swished her hands to shoo him away as he tried to grab her again. “Get your Mama up there to dance with you.”

  Without missing a beat, Tommy wiggled his eyebrows and boogied over to Louise, taking his giggling mother by the hands and tugging her up to join him. Together they swished and sashayed to the music as Tommy serenaded. The boys and Vic clapped along in time to the music. Vic’s eyes twinkled happily as he watched his ladylove laughing and dancing.

  Louise joined Tommy on the chorus, and they finished out the song together.

  “Oh, that was so good! Play that other one that we got you by him,” Louise requested, and Tommy moved to the player and put on the next record, Elvis’ rendition of That’s Alright Mama. Once again, he matched the singer word for word, warble for warble, even pretending to hold a microphone as he belted out the lyrics. It was obvious that Tommy had inherited his mother’s musical talents. The adults were all convinced that Tommy Blankenbaker could someday have a singing career; he sure had the talent and charisma.

  A little later, Vic smiled at his wife and leaned in to give her a kiss, thanking her for the nice leather three-fold wallet she had given him. Lilly and Louise both opened gifts from the boys – a bottle of perfume, a pair of fuzzy house slippers for each, one in blue and the other in green, and a Perry Como record that Lilly could play on Tommy’s phonograph. It was a wonderful Christmas.

  When everyone had finished opening their gifts, Vic went over and hunkered down by the tree to retrieve a small wrapped box he had been saving for last. Turning, he sidled up next to Louise as she sat on the couch and laid it in her hands.

  “What’s this?” she asked, a little breathlessly.

  He shrugged teasingly. “I dunno. It’s got your name on it. Open it.”

  Louise gazed into his eyes for a moment, and then carefully began to loosen the tape, always mindful to try and save the paper to use another time.

  “Aww, come on, just rip the dang thing open,” Vic teased, making like he would take it from her hands and do it for her.

  She laugh
ed and finally got the box unwrapped. A small black velvet box. Meeting his eyes, she opened the top and looked down, gasping in pleasure at what was inside.

  Vic smiled broadly. “Hope you like ’em…I’m just sorry it took me so long ta get ’em for ya,” he added softly as he watched her take the pair of amethyst earrings out of the box and hold them up to her ears. The others gathered around with ooo’s and ahhh’s. Vic reached to gently grasp the necklace she still wore nearly every day and held it up; the new earrings a near perfect match.

  “Oh Vic, I love them! Thank you so much, honey,” Louise gushed as she quickly clipped them on.

  “Lemme see,” Vic requested softly, leaning back to get the full effect of his beautiful wife wearing his gift. The lights on the Christmas tree made the necklace and the new earrings sparkle – almost as much as her eyes as she gazed at him. “Perfect. Just like you, babe.”

  At that, tears stung Louise’s eyes and she leaned toward him, offering her lips for a kiss. He didn’t disappoint her. Matter of fact, their lips lingered for an extra few moments – only stopping when a teasing little voice sang from across the room, “Daddy’s kissing Mama. Daddy’s kissing Mama!”

  They broke apart laughing and Vic took Louise into his arms for a hug.

  Neither one could remember a better, happier Christmas.

  *

  “Hey guys, come on in here outta the cold,” Vic encouraged later in the day as he stepped aside and held the front door open for Alec, Earl, and their families.

  “Oh, let me hold her,” Louise said to Fleet as the latter handed over her baby girl, warmly bundled in layers of pink – pink booties, pink knit cap, and a frilly pink dress, covered over in a soft pink blanket.

  Louise walked over to the couch carrying the precious little girl, speaking in the singsong voice everyone used with babies as she settled on the seat and began to remove the outerwear. Quickly becoming too warm in the comfortably heated house, little Alexa began to fuss.

  “Oh goo’ness, goo’ness, I’m ’a hurryin’,” Louise chattered to the baby as she worked at removing the layers.

  Alec grinned proudly as Fleet looked on with a loving smile. “She’s got a temper, that’s for sure. If she don’t get her way right now, look out.”

  Fleet laughed and nodded, “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “She gets that from you, my fiery-tempered wife,” he cracked, laughing when Fleet playfully stuck her tongue out at him.

  Louise carefully removed the knit cap and readjusted the tiny pink bow atop the short, fine honey-colored hair. Feeling better now that the restricting garments were removed, ten-month-old Alexa looked up, her chestnut brown eyes with those long black lashes opened wide at Louise as she cooed adorably.

  “Oh Fleet, her eyes are turning more the color of yours all the time – and her hair, too! She’s you made over,” Louise mused, bouncing the baby on her lap and making silly faces at her to get her to giggle.

  “Yep, that’s what I’ve been saying,” Alec agreed, slipping an arm around his wife as he reached past her with his other hand to allow the baby to grasp on to one of his fingers. “Looks like she’s gonna be the spitting image of her mama, which means, I’m gonna need a big ol’ bat to keep the boys away when she turns around sixteen or so.”

  “Oh you,” Fleet murmured, pressing a shoulder against her husband’s chest as if to scold him, even as her eyes met his in loving thanks for his comment.

  Just then, Alexa clapped her little hands together joyfully, and then spread her arms and reached up to Louise, practically climbing up her body to give her a hug before settling down comfortably on her lap as if she never wanted to move from that spot. Fleet laughed, “She’s such a cuddle bug; so different from AJ. Once he began crawling, he never wanted to stay on my lap for more that five seconds – and cuddling was out of the question!”

  “Oh, that’s just boys for you,” Ruth piped up from across the room. “My Terry is the same way, never any time for his Mama. But Gina’s still a Mama’s girl – aren’t you sweetie,” she directed at her nine-year-old daughter, perched on the arm of her chair. The girl smiled shyly as all attention from the adults in the room suddenly turned to her.

  “Little girls sure can be cute,” Vic agreed, thinking of something that had happened the day before. “John Hilliard came by the station yesterday and brought his wife and little girl,” he began, but Earl interrupted, “You mean, the guy that held you up? I still can’t believe you dropped the charges.”

  Vic gave a small shrug, knowing his friend probably wouldn’t understand. Earl had always been the kind to hold a grudge for extended periods. “It just seemed like the right thing to do,” he explained – again – before continuing, “and I’m glad I did. Hilliard’s wife and child don’t deserve the hardship of him bein’ locked up for months. But, anyway, he apologized and thanked me…” he paused as Jimmy, Buddy, Terry, and AJ raised their voices in competition over something in the other room. Remembering the Hilliard’s little girl, he mused without thinking, “Their little girl was so sweet. She’s about five, I think…dark hair and dark eyes, like her mother…she came up to me and crooked a finger at me, and when I bent down to her level, she whispered, ‘Thank you for being nice to my Daddy,’ and then gave me a big kiss on the cheek. I tell ya, my heart just melted.” A tad choked up, he added with a laugh, “If I hadn’t already decided to drop the charges, I probably would have, then. She sure is a cute little thing.”

  The others in the room nodded, making observations about the differences between little boys and little girls…but no one noticed that Louise had settled back against the cushions of the couch, the expression on her face anything but joyful.

  A weird kind of jealousy had swept over her as her husband extolled the virtues of that child. Her arms tightened around the baby girl in her lap as her countenance reflected her thoughts. Maybe that’s what I’m missing…all we have is boys running around, Tommy, Buddy, Jimmy…what we need is a little girl to balance everything out.

  Yes…if I just had a little girl to cuddle…make clothes for…dress up in frilly outfits…buy dolls for…then I’d be content. Then, we’d have everything…

  From that moment on, it became Louise’s mission in life to have a little girl of her own.

  ‡

  CHAPTER 10

  The Longing

  January started off with a bang.

  Just when things at the station seemed to be running like a well-oiled machine, Oscar quit to move back to Tennessee with his ailing mother. This he announced at a moment when the station was full up on customers – a line at the pumps, cars parked willy-nilly waiting for oil changes, and car wash customers waiting in line to get the winter sludge washed off. With Tommy back at school, it was everything Vic, Floyd and Oscar could do to keep up.

  “You’re what?” Vic ground out as his third man announced that this would be his last day. They were both working the pumps.

  “I’m s…sorry, Mr. Matthews,” the young man had stammered, “But Ma needs me – I’m all she’s got. I hope you can find somebody real quick like,” he added sheepishly as he topped off a customer’s gas tank and reached for the payment from the hand sticking out the partially opened window.

  Vic took his cap off his head and swept a hand back through his hair, wondering how in the world he and Floyd were going to be able to handle things until they could bring a new man on board. He shook his head as the wry thought ran through his mind that he was almost wishing for fewer customers.

  Glancing at Oscar and noticing the cowed look on his face, Vic instantly felt bad for allowing his temper to flare.

  “It’s all right, Oscar. You go and take care of your mother. God’ll bring help along,” he added, surprised when the words came out of his mouth. Feeling guilty that he hadn’t immediately thought of asking God’s aid, he shut his eyes and prayed as he stood with his hand on the pump handle, Father in Heaven…I always seem to complain, gripe, worry, and pace, rather than a
sk Your help. I’m askin’ now, Lord…bring us somebody. Bring us the right somebody. In Jesus’ Name…Amen.

  “Hey Chief, tel’phone!” Floyd called from the office. Vic waved acknowledgment and took the payment from his customer before trotting over to take the call, thinking, Man, when it rains, it pours. But…guess I gotta make hay while the sun shines.

  Just a few days later, God answered that prayer in an unexpected way. Vic and Floyd were finishing up a quick lunch in the office before getting back to their repair work. Chuckling over something funny that had happened while they were serving together in the CCC’s, Vic looked out the window and noticed a rather diminutive, older black man, hesitatingly walking across the concrete lot as a Trailways bus pulled away.

  “Who’s this comin’?” Vic mumbled as he stuffed the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth, prompting Floyd to turn from his perched position on a stool by the window, and gaze outside.

  “Oh hey, dat’s Pasta’ Duke,” Floyd murmured as he got up and opened the glass door, motioning the man in out of the cold.

  The little man scurried inside, rubbing his bare hands together in an attempt to ward off the cold as Floyd shut the door behind him.

  Turning, Floyd flashed his gleaming smile at his friend-turned-boss and made the introductions.

  “Chief, dis here’s Pasta’ Duke I was tellin’ you about. Pasta’ Duke, dis here’s Vic Matthews.”

  Vic rose from the chair as he wiped his mouth on a napkin and stepped forward with his right hand extended, meeting the man halfway across the room. Indeed, Floyd had been telling him about the pastor of the fledgling church in the West End, which he’d begun attending not long after his time in the service was up and he had settled in Louisville. Floyd had said the preacher was a feisty ‘character,’ who was in need of making some extra money to live on, since the congregants at the little church could barely give enough to keep the utilities paid.

  “Pastor Duke, good to meet ya.”