Book 1 - HARPER
Chapter 1
Getting Mary Overton by telephone wasn't always easy. Sometimes the grouchy old lady she lived with and did chores for refused to call her to the phone and Bill knew she didn't always deliver messages. Mary had only lived with Mrs Carter since she started High School. Before that she had lived in the "Chldren's Home" and at times she wished she were back there. She had her favorite hiding place down by the front gate where she could sometimes slip away to sit and dream. Looking back up at the tall brick building with it's white columned porch she could pretend that it was her grand home and her rich Daddy owned it and her beautiful and loving Mother was the lady of the house, telling all those other ladies what to do. She could make her Mother and Daddy anything she wanted them to be, all that the people at the "Home" could tell her was that her parents had sickened and died and a neighbor had brought Mary to the "Home". They were nicer to her there than this old lady was. Soon she would be eighteen, then she would find someplace else to live and work.
"Mary!", Old Mrs. Carter's sharp call brought Mary from her reverie. Her thoughts over the last six months had mostly been of Bill Dodson and the promise he made to come back to see her when his "Boot Camp" was over. His last letter was tucked in her apron pocket as she stood at the sink, barely able to keep the dishes moving from the wash pan to the rinse water for thinking of the last line of that letter. "I think I might be there Friday", he had said. This was the longest Friday she had ever known, waiting for his call.
Whatever Mrs. Carter had wanted to say to Mary was lost in the sudden ringing of the phone. Mary's heart pounded as she listened to the curt "Hello", then the silence that seemed twice as long as it was, and finally, "Yes".
"It's that boy back", Mrs. Carter said as she motioned for Mary to come take the phone.
Three years in High School and Mary had never even dated another boy. Not because she wasn't attractive, Bill thought she was beautiful. No doubt at times she was, but it was her quiet manner and calm rejection of the stigma of the "Children's Home" that the other girls would have had her wear that first attracted Bill to her. Mrs. Carter hadn't made it easy for her to spend time with Bill but they managed. Managed well enough to be serious as they spoke of being married some day.
"Hi", she whispered into the phone as Mrs. Carter moved slowly away. "Yes", she said, answering Bill's question about Mrs. Carter's ability to hear the conversation. "OK", Mary said, then after listening for a moment, "Bye".
"Well that wasn't much of a conversation after he's been gone all this time".
"He's coming by in a little while and we're going to a movie. I guess we'll talk then".
"Well, you see that you get back here at a decent hour, you hear?"
"Mrs. Carter, he's only got a couple of days to be here and I plan to spend as much time with him as I can."
"Look here, young lady, don't you go telling me what you'll do or won't do or you'll find yourself back in that home so fast it'll make your head swim!"
Mary turned from her, hung up the apron and hurried to her room. She was ready when she heard the familiar sound of Bill's old Ford in the street and hurried out of the house without a word to Mrs. Carter.
There was no movie for them that night, Mary told him how great he looked in his uniform and he told her more about the Navy than she would ever remember. She knew Mrs. Carter heard her as she came in a few minutes after midnight.
Bill came for her at noon the next day and they shopped for picnic snacks to take to the park with them. It was a mild afternoon and they spent hours walking along the river and as the cool evening came on, sitting on a picnic bench by the fire, always talking, sharing dreams of their life together when he would return. Bill told her how excited he was to be assigned to the Battleship Arizona and the thrill of going to Hawaii. This, Bill's last night in Joplin, they spent together. Mary didn't get home until nearly dawn. Mrs. Carter met her at the door.
Mary was back at the Home and her head was swimming, not from Mrs. Carter's speed in arranging her return although that was quickly done, but from the news that Pearl Harbor had been attacked by the Japanese. The staff and the older children gathered around the radio as reports describing the scene at Pearl Harbor were broadcast across the nation and the world. Suddenly those direct reports stopped but not before Mary learned that the battleship Arizona was among the many vessels that were destroyed. Mary's hope that Bill may not have arrived in time to be among those lost as the ship went down stayed alive until his letter came. Mrs. Carter brought it over to the home and left it with the Matron with a snide remark about a girl who would stay out till dawn with a boy.
Mary found a sympathetic listener in the Matron and read parts of Bill's letter to her, the parts that spoke of his love for her and the plan to be married when he returned.
"You don't know", the Matron told her, "He might have gotten off. He might be all right. You keep your hopes up, He'll write you if he can."
Mary held on to that hope as long as she could but in January, she gave up.
"He's dead," she told the Matron through her tears, "I know he's dead. I don't know what to do."
The Matron pulled her close and with Mary's head on her shoulder spoke softly, "And you're going to have his baby, aren't you."
Mary called the child Boy. On the day she entered him into the first grade at school she gave him a name, Harper, and with it the family name that she had been using ever since he was born, Dodson. Before that he was Boy and to her he was still Boy when he entered High School.
Harper couldn't remember the years at the Home, didn't know that his mother had been raised there, worked there caring for other children when her own child was born. He knew that his father was Bill Dodson who had been killed at Pearl Harbor when the battleship Arizona was sunk. He didn't know the problems that Mary had overcome as an unmarried single mother. He was three when Mary found a job away from Children's Home and couldn't remember the tearful goodbye between Mary and a loving Matron. He barely remembered the rented room that had been their home until Mary finally was able to rent this little house.
"Mom", Harper said after his first few days in High School, "You've gotta stop calling me Boy! I won't answer if you don't".
It wasn't easy but gradually he became Harper to her most of the time. She saw that he was growing up as he progressed through High School, and growing up fast. Mary saw that she was going to lose him, too. Not the way she had lost his father but lose him she would, she could feel it. She could see the look in his eye as he talked of distant places, hear the wonder in his voice as he spoke of cities and oceans far beyond his range in Joplin.
Harper matured early there in Joplin, a fair-sized town in the mining district of southwest Missouri. Perhaps the freedom he had while his mother worked to support the two of them hurried the process along. There were plenty of things to do that stretched the borders of his world. By the time he was eighteen his inquiring mind and his world full of willing teachers led him to that early maturity and sometimes to the very edge of big trouble.
The high school years were busy ones for Harper. He usually had after school work to do of one kind or another but not so much as to preclude a little social life. Parties with the youth groups at church and school proms were generally a lot of fun and he dated several different girls but during his senior year it was only Dorothy Parker.
Right after graduation Harper got a job keeping Tony's service station open all night. When he called Dorothy to tell her about it she asked him to come over so they could talk.
"What's up?" Harper asked when they were seated in her porch swing.
"Harper, I don't want to go steady any more. I'll be going away to college soon and there may be boys there that I want to date. I wouldn't feel right if you thought that we had a committment."
"Yeah, I guess I understand that", Harper replied. He had in fact worried about that very thing, Dorothy being in college and him not. "I guess it's best, anyway I'm going to be working nights now. Things would have to be differnt, about dates and stuff."
They agreed that they would still be good friends and as Harper left he said, "How about just like in the movies, a kiss for good luck?"
A couple of times each week a big new "AirFlo" Chrysler would come in to Tony's Service Station at about three oclock in the morning for a full tank of gasoline. Little was said for several weeks, but gradually the driver got to talking with Harper. The story of some of his trips across the state line down into Oklahoma with the back of the car filled with booze made good conversation while the tank was being filled. Selling whiskey in Oklahoma was against the law except in state controlled stores. Harper had heard of the smuggling business that flourished because of the difference in the laws of the two states, but had never before had occasion to talk to some one actually doing it. "If I can't make this trip some night, how about you taking a load down," the driver asked Harper. "There's a hundred bucks in it"
It really didn't seem all that bad, making a few bucks by avoiding paying the state tax on the liquor. That was all it really amounted to. There seemed to be little danger of getting caught. "Why not?" Harper asked himself. "I could sure use the money." He left it open with the driver, saying that he might do it if he could get off work. Tony let him close the station in the early hours of the morning if there seemed to be no one out and about. Tony always opened it again at six o'clock when he came on.
It was a week or so later that the driver and another man came by Harper's house. The driver introduced the other man simply as "Bill". "Bill owns the car," He said. They sat in the car as Bill asked Harper a few questions about driving and his knowledge of the roads to the south.
"Ever been in trouble with the cops?" Bill asked. "It's no big deal," He said after Harper shook his head. "If you get stopped, you don't know me and you don't know what's in the car. You are delivering the car to this guy for ten bucks and the fun of driving it. They'll take the car, you'll have to get home by yourself. Here's fifty bucks, take the ten with you and leave the rest at home. I'll get the other fifty to you when you get back. Okay?"
Bill told him that the car would be at the station at three o'clock the next morning. He would be told the place to take it and how to get there. Then he would have to wait while someone unloaded it and gave him an envelope to bring back.
Harper got up a little early from his evening sleep to be in the station at midnight. He was getting nervous as three o'clock approached and made preparations to close the station, putting away the displays of engine oil and used tires that were on the driveway.
When Bill drove up he parked at the gas pump and asked, "You ready, boy?"
"My name's Harper."
"Ok, Harper," Bill laughed. "You ready to take a little ride?"
"Yessir, you gonna to tell me where to take it?"
Bill told him what route to take and where to meet the man who would tell him where to go to get the car unloaded. "You park across the street and watch. If that man don't take his hat off and change it from one hand to the other and then put it back on again, you get right out of there, fast! If he does that then let him into the car and go where he says. If he don't give you the right signal, you just get out of there and drive back to your house. I'll be by later to pick up the car and the envelope that you'll get when the car is unloaded"
Harper filled the car with gas and said, "That'll be four fifty." He put away the money that he collected as Bill signalled to a woman in another car that had been waiting in the street. She pulled into the driveway and they left the station.
Harper unfolded a map and looked at the route that Bill had told him to take and the location of the meeting place. "I know how to get there easier than that", he muttered to himself, "That's just the other side of where us guys go swimming sometimes."
Heading south, Harper drove as far as the turnoff that they took to the old bridge with the cable swing on it. He left the route that Bill had told him to take and drove to the old bridge. He hadn't been there since last summer and stopped to check if the cable swing was still there. It was and Harper stood looking at the moonlit river, remembering the warm afternoon and the cool water last time he had been there.
Going on south there wasn't even a sign that told him when he crossed into Oklahoma on that back road but he knew he had when he hit the main road going west. A few minutes later he was pulling into the parking place that Bill had told him to use. About five minutes passed and Harper was getting nervous before he saw any one at all. Then a man appeared across the street, looked to see that Harper was watching and took off his hat. Harper watched as he changed it from one hand to the other before he placed it back on his head and slowly walked across the street.
"Where th' hell you been?" the man asked. "I didn't think you were going to get through. We got word they was laying for you at the state line! Those damn cops got to pick up a load now and then to make it look like they was doin' their job."
"Well, I made it," said Harper. "Where we goin' with this stuff?"
The unloading went as planned and Harper got the envelope, keeping his thoughts to himself. It wasn't till he started home that he let himself think about what might have been. Bill had set him up to get picked up. Maybe what Bill had said about them letting him go was true maybe it wasn't. Maybe Bill had planned for the cops getting this load and didn't want to lose his regular driver.
It was nearly lunch time when Harper parked the car in the drive at his house. Bill was parked in the street and got out of his car to meet him. The woman who had picked Bill up that morning drove off.
"How'd it go, boy"
"My name's Harper, it went ok."
"You got that envelope, Harper?" Bill asked with a laugh.
"It's in the glove box"
Bill got in the car and, taking the envelope out of the glove compartment, counted the bills that were in it.
"You have any trouble getting across the line?"
"Nosir, took a wrong turn and was a little late, but I made it ok."
"Boy, if you're going to do any drivin' for me you'd better learn to not take any wrong turns. You drive like I tell you!"
Bill took fifty dollars from the envelope and handed it to Harper. "Here's the other fifty I promised you. I may have another trip for you next week, I'll let you know."
Harper took the money and nodded.
"So long, boy", Bill said as he backed the car out of the drive and left. That was when Harper decided that it was time for him to leave home.
It was no surprise to Mary when Harper told her that he was going to California. In one day he did all he felt he needed to do to be ready to leave, a few goodbyes and a little packing. He kissed his mother goodbye when she left for work the next morning and said, "I won't be here when you get back, Mom. I'll write you from Los Angeles."
He locked the door as he left and hung the key on the nail behind the shrub. As he walked to the bus station, carrying his small suitcase, he waved goodbye to a couple of people that he knew. A few minutes later he was waiting for the bus with a ticket to Los Angeles in his hand and more than one hundred dollars in his pocket.
Tony had wished him well when Harper went in to quit his job. Harper considered talking with Tony about the trip to deliver the booze, but decided against it. After all, it was breaking the law and Tony was a pretty straight guy. His parting words to Harper were, "Keep your nose clean, kid!"
Harper chose a seat by himself. The bus wasn't crowded as they travelled through the rest of that day. His small suitcase he left on the seat beside him to discourage any one from taking that seat as they made their stops. Harper was looking out the window most of the time but only half aware of the scenery. If he had been taking inventory of his assets and reviewing his skills on a formal basis he might have turned back at the next stop. But he was eighteen and healthy and ready to be on his own. Mostly he was just wondering what lay ahead, what he might be doing in Los Angeles. He had no fear of the future, he had more money than he had ever had before. He could get a job in a service station or something. He might even join the Navy, a couple of the guys from school had done that already.
At a service station they sped by Harper saw a Chrysler just like the one he had driven for Bill and it brought the trip into his mind. "That SOB set me up just as sure as I'm sittin' on this bus!" he said to himself. "I'm just plain lucky that I'm not sittin' in jail somewhere instead."
Harper wasn't thinking how smart he was to have taken another road, nor was he gloating that he had broken the law and not been caught. He was considering the whole experience and realized that Bill had set him up and missed. "I guess I'm gonna have to be a little careful who I get in with," he told himself.
After getting off the bus in Oklahoma City where he had a forced layover of several hours, he went into the toilet and moved most of his money into one of his shoes and laced it up tightly. He slept on a bench with his suitcase on his lap, his hand through the handle. Twice in the night he felt someone alongside of him. Both times he moved to another place and tried to go to sleep again.
When they got to Las Vegas, he took a four hour layover just to look around. Checking his suitcase he walked through the streets, peering into the casinos, watching the never ending movement of people, listening to the whirring of the wheels of the slot machines, but reluctant to go in. Finding a small eating place he went in and ordered a hamburger. As he ate he watched people pay their checks and put money into the three slot machines that stood by the door. Four people put their change into the machines. Not a one of them left with anything, some had even put more change from their pocket into the machines before leaving.
"Looks like the odds ain't so good," Harper said to the counter girl.
She smiled, thinking that she didn't remember anyone winning in the weeks that she had been working there. "You want something else?", she asked.
Harper paid his bill and went into the street wondering what he did want. He knew what he didn't want. He didn't want to be in a small town working in a service station, that much he was sure of. So here he was getting close to Los Angeles without the faintest idea of what he was going to do when he got there.
Gradually the unnaturalness of the scene disappeared as Harper walked in and out of the casinos clustered there in downtown Las Vegas. He watched the bored dealers sliding Blackjack cards out of the boxes, rarely paying attention to the players but moving the game along so fast that Harper had trouble counting the hands before the dealer scooped them up and paid the bet or collected the chips. The dealers changed places periodically and it took Harper a few minutes to figure out why they clapped their hands as they left. "They're showin' that guy over there that they ain't slippin' some of the chips between their fingers as they leave."
It certainly wasn't the desire to gamble that made Harper decide to stay the night in Las Vegas. He had enjoyed gambling with the guys during his school years, felt the pleasure of winning, the disappointment of losing, even the panic of losing money that was needed for another purpose. But now it was time for him to keep his money in his pocket, that was a stake to keep him eating till he got something to do in Los Angeles. So he watched the sliding cards and the rolling dice and looked at the faces of the people surrounding the tables. Some of them were having fun and showed it, others were silent, not showing whether they were winning or losing, any pleasure that they might be having was carefully concealed.
In the several hours that he had been in Las Vegas, Harper had spoken to one person, the girl in the little hamburger place. She had smiled at him, maybe that was what led him back to the same place. She hadn't looked any older than he was. He didn't put a name to it but Harper was lonely. In over eighteen years he hadn't experienced this same feeling. He had been alone many times, and for long periods, but this was different. When he was alone before there were no people around. Camping by himself on fishing trips, long days in the woods, these had never given Harper the feeling that he was having here, alone in the midst of all these people.
He sat at the empty counter on the same stool that he had used before. "What have you got besides hamburgers," he asked as the same waitress greeted him.
"The chili's good," she said.
"Ok, I'll have that. I had a hamburger when I was here before."
"I know, and you didn't think the odds on our machines were too good," she laughed.
Harper looked at the name tag she wore on her blouse. "Judi," he said.
"Something else?"
"I was just reading your name," he nodded toward the tag. "But I will have a glass of milk."
She ordered up the chili and then got the milk for him. As she served it she asked, "Did you find better odds on some other machines?"
"I didn't play, I just walked around and looked."
Judi served the chili when the cook passed it through from the kitchen, then busied herself around the front of the little hamburger shop, cleaning and straightening up the place.
"Are you about to close?" Harper asked.
"No, but I get off at eight, another girl comes in and I have to get it cleaned up for her."
Harper looked at the clock, it was ten minutes to eight.
"What brings you to Las Vegas if you don't gamble?" Judi asked.
"I'm on my way to L.A. and just thought I'd get off the bus for a while and look around.
The glittering La Vegas of the advertisements was almost as strange to Judi as it was to Harper. Her father worked at various construction jobs as a foreman. Building the Casinos or doing remodeling work there was about his only connection to Las Vegas' primary industry. That was the way that Judi saw the Strip and the big downtown casinos, a playground for tourists.
"Did you get out to the Strip?" Judi asked.
Harper looked at her blankly and she saw the lack of comprehension.
"Out the Boulevard, where the big hotels and casinos are." she explained.
"No, I just walked around town here."
"You ought to see the Strip, most people think that IS Las Vegas."
"How do I get there?"
Judi offered to give him a ride out the boulevard after she got off. Harper paid his check and waited at the door as she visited with the girl who came in to take over.
On the ride out to the strip in Judi's Volkswagon, She asked if he stayed in the Youth Hostels. She explained that her church operated one and that it might be better than spending his money for a hotel room. "Unless you're rich," she laughed.
"I sure ain't rich," Harper replied. "How does it work?"
Judi explained and asked, "Would you like me to get you in there?"
"I sure would, but I don't want to put you to a lot of trouble."
"I don't mind," she said, "but I ought to know your name!"
"I'm sorry, I should have told you before. I know yours, or part of it. Mine is Harper. Harper Dodson."
"Hi, Harper Dodson, I'm Judi Carmody. The Judi is for Judith."
"Hi, Judith Carmody, thanks for taking care of me."
"I'm going by the house first to tell my folks what's going on."
At her house Judi made him come in while she explained to her mother that she was going to take Harper to the Hostel. He was aware of the scrutiny that he got and, when Judi left the room for a bit, he said quietly to Mrs. Carmody, "I'll not hurt her, ma'am."
That was a promise that Harper would have cause to remember.
It made a nice break in his trip to Los Angeles. Judi had driven him to the bus station to pick up his suitcase, taken him to the Youth Hostel and gotten him set up there.
They had toured the major hotels on the strip, walking through the Casinos, peeking into meeting rooms, looking at the promotions for the big name shows. It was after eleven when she deposited him at the Hostel.
"That was great of you to show me around," Harper said as he got out of the car. "I don't know how to thank you."
"I enjoyed it," Judi said truthfully. "That's the other side of Las Vegas for me, I don't get there very often."
"Well, thanks again. Goodbye Judith Carmody"
"Bye, Harper Dodson," she laughed, "Have fun in L.A."
Harper watched the car drive away, then went quietly into the Youth Hostel and got himself bedded down. As he lay there, waiting for sleep to come, he recalled the events of the day. He hadn't thought that Judi was particularly pretty when he first saw her in the little cafe, but now as he remembered the smile that had brought him back and her lively, animated face as she shared the newness of all she had shown him, he forgot his first impression and she appeared in his mind as a pretty girl, nicely formed and graceful in the dress she had changed to at her house. He was not inexperienced with girls. Even in his small town on the edge of the Bible Belt, boys and girls came in the full range from good to bad. He was a reasonably good looking boy and had dates enough so that the girls who knew him would have classed him as being a lot closer to the good than the bad. He went to sleep remembering the warmth of her hand in his as she led him through the crowds at Caesar's Palace.
Judi should have been surprised to see Harper walk into the cafe the next afternoon but she wasn't. He hadn't said anything about changing his plan to go on to Los Angeles but the few hours that they had spent together had been so pleasant that his reappearance seemed natural. She didn't even admit to herself that she had been wishing that he wasn't gone.
Letting the pleasure show on her face she said, "Well, I thought you'd be on your way to Los Angeles by now."
"Hi Judi, I couldn't go without another of your super hamburgers."
"One superburger," she called to the cook. "Would you like something to drink?"
It wasn't easy to find time to talk to Judi and Harper felt the loneliness come back as he watched her serving other customers. He had finished eating before she found opportunity to ask him, "What did you do this morning?"
"I was walking around, just looking for the other side of Las Vegas that you talked about."
"Did you find it," she asked with a laugh.
"I don't think so. Maybe I wouldn't know it if I saw it."
"I guess maybe you'd have to live here," she said.
Harper stayed at the counter long after he finished his burger, having no plan and reluctant to leave. Judi sensed this and asked as he stood to pay the check, "What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know. I told them at the Hostel that I would stay another night or so. Would you like to go to a movie tonight?"
"Maybe," she replied. "Why don't you come by here when I get off and we'll see."
August 23, 1960
Dear Mom,
I guess you can see that I haven't got to L.A yet. I stopped
here in Las Vegas and kinda liked the looks of the place so I
thought that I would stay for a while. I got a job parking
cars and a room to stay in so I will write to you when I move.
Hope you are ok.
your son,
Harper
ps It sure is hot here.
Harper had been in Las Vegas for a week before he remembered to write to his mother. It had been easy to postpone the continuation of his trip to Los Angeles. He hadn't called it off or changed his mind, he was just finding what Judi had called the other side of Las Vegas. What he was really finding was how Judi and her family lived. It wasn't a movie that they had gone to the second night that he spent in Las Vegas. She had taken him to her house for supper. She and Harper had eaten in the kitchen while her parents were in the living room. Afterward they all sat in the living room and played Monopoly while her parents tried to piece together a little bit of Harper's background. Harper knew what they were doing and tried to ease their minds about their only daughter being kind to a complete stranger.
On the way to the Youth Hostel Harper put into words what they were both thinking about, his going on to Los Angeles.
"If I stayed here in Las Vegas for a little while, would you show me some more of the other side?"
"Why do you want to see more of Las Vegas?"
"I guess it's you that I want to see more of," he said. "I mean.....I want to know you better."
"I'll bet you meant what you said first, I saw you looking at those pictures of the show girls last night," she teased.
"I didn't think they were as pretty as you, all that make-up and feathers, I like the way you look better. And that is not what I meant, I like you and would like to see you some more."
"They won't let you stay at the Hostel, they've got a three day limit."
"I've got a little money and I can get a job doing something. I'll find a room to stay in."
"I'm busy tomorrow but the next day I could see you," she said.
"That's Sunday, we could spend the afternoon together."
Harper agreed that that was a date and said goodnight as she let him out at the Hostel. He got some help there the next morning in how to find a room and where he might go to look for a temporary job. He took the first room he looked at and left his suitcase there while he went looking for something to do to make a little money. He hadn't used much of his money, still had almost a hundred dollars after he paid a week's rent on the room.
The job didn't pay much but he figured that it would keep him from digging into his stake any further while he stayed a few days in Las Vegas. It was late in the afternoon when he got that all settled so he went to the little cafe to tell Judi about it. She was not in sight, another girl was behind the counter.
"Where is Judi?" he asked after he had placed his order.
"Today is her day off."
That was a long evening for Harper. He sat in the room for a while, then went out and walked around the town. It sure was bigger than home, he would have to get some kind of transportation if he was going to get around much. He wondered if he was making a mistake, not going on to Los Angeles. "What am I stopping here for?" he asked himself. The image of a smiling Judi seemed to answer his own question. "Well, I've still got the bus ticket, I can go when I want," he told himself.
"Daddy, do you think it's crazy, me telling Harper that I'd see him again?"
There was just Jim Carmody and his daughter Judith, sharing a long day on Lake Mead. They had left early, launched his 18 foot outboard and gone up the lake to this small cove. They had fished in the morning, had lunch on the shore, and taken a swim. After the cool water, sitting in the warm sun felt good. Judi's thoughts had gone back to the last two days and the time she had spent with Harper.
Jim Carmody wasn't trying to make his daughter take the place of a non-existent son, he and Judi sometimes took a day on the lake just to be together. She loved the boat and the swimming, the fishing was just to keep him company. She would sit and hold the rod with the line in the water and dream her dreams while he fished, sharing his pleasure when he caught something but unconcerned if the fish left her bait strictly alone.
"I don't think it's crazy, Judi," Jim said. "But I think you should take it easy. One thing about the boys you knew in school, you could see them in different situations, get an idea about their character. You haven't had a chance to see how Harper acts when he's not with you. All you see is what he wants you to see."
Sunday afternoon was warm and windy. Harper was hot when he walked up to the door at Judi's house.
"You look a little warm," Judi said. "Come in and get cooled off."
The air conditioned house felt good. Judi's parents visited with Harper for a few minutes and then left them alone in the living room. Jim Carmody going to the little den and watching television and Judi's mother busying herself in the kitchen. Harper found Judi easy to talk to and soon he was telling her about his home town and some of his school experiences. That evening they went to Judi's Youth Group meeting at the church and went out with several of the group for refreshments afterward. Harper was a novelty to them as they were to him.
"I guess I've seen a little of the other side of Las Vegas," he told Judi as they drove back toward his room.
"Does that mean you're ready to move on now?" she asked with a little laugh.
Harper reached for her hand, "No, I didn't mean that at all. I liked the kids in your group, especially this one."
Her hand gave her answer to that and she left it clasped in his as she drove the little Volkswagon to a spot across the street from his room.
Her goodnight kiss lingered on his lips as she drove away.
To say that Harper fell into a routine wouldn't be quite right, he was courting Judi. He didn't know he was courting her, he was just enjoying having a steady girl friend and seeing the other side of Las Vegas. There should be nothing routine in a courtship, and in that sense there wasn't in this one. It might better be called a pattern. Judi's pattern. Sundays were planned around the morning Church service and the evening Youth Group meeting. Week nights were movies or monopoly with her parents or separation. These nights of separation were the hardest for Harper and at times the loneliness came. Saturdays were the best.
The first time they went to the lake, they went with Judi's father and mother. They took a picnic lunch and spent the day at their favorite little cove. Jim didn't get in any fishing that day. He beached the boat and Harper helped in the unloading. Judi and her mother spread a blanket and set up a beach umbrella for shade.
"You wanted to see more of me," Judi said to Harper with a little laugh as she slipped out of her dress, revealing a trim figure in a bright yellow bathing suit. She giggled at the quiet wolf whistle that he gave her.
Harper watched as Judi demonstrated her skill as a water- skier. Jim took the boat though various maneuvers as she gracefully swung from one side of the boat wake to the other, jumping the wake with ease each time she crossed. Mr. and Mrs. Carmody were obviously pleased as Harper told them how he admired her skill. After a while they went into the beach again and Judi and Harper swam and played in the water around the cove.
The Carmodys made Harper feel comfortable as part of their family picnic. Jim took Harper out and showed him how to run the boat. Running up the lake aways, Mr. Carmody told him a little about the desert lakes of the Colorado River. "This is sure nice," Harper said. "It's a lot different from the lakes back home."
"Takes some getting used to, I guess" Jim replied. "There being so few trees and grass. Everything's brown instead of green. There's a lot of life out there though." He waved his hand toward the desert shoreline.
It was late afternoon when they packed the things in the boat and headed back down the lake to the launching ramp. Harper was helpful in getting the boat on the trailer and securing everything for the trip home. "I sure want to thank you for bringing me along," he told the Carmodys when they were in the car and started for home. "That's a great boat."
As they were nearing Las Vegas, Mrs. Carmody looked back at Harper in the back seat and returned his smile. Judi was asleep, her head on Harper's shoulder, her hand in his. She looked at Jim and reached for his hand, remembering.
September 14, 1960
Dear Mom,
As you can see, I've got a new address. I'm sharing this
apartment with a guy that I work with. I don't park cars
anymore either. They wanted me to work on Saturday and
Sunday and I didn't want to. I got a job with a builder and
he says maybe I can learn to be a carpenter or a plumber or
something. I drive a pickup sometimes and help everybody that
needs it.
I don't know when I will go on to L.A. I kinda like it here.
I hope everything is ok with you.
Your son,
Harper
It was Mr. Carmody who helped Harper get a job with his company. "This is a bright kid," he told the contractor. There was more than one reason for his willingness to recommend him, all tied to one basic reason, of course, Judith was his only, and cherished, daughter. Anything that he could do to watch over her, he would try to do. Keeping an eye on Harper was a lot easier if he was working for the same company. Another reason was that he had watched Harper helping with the boat and trailer. It wasn't too hard to sense an affinity for mechanical things or his quickness to learn. Then of course there was the hope that his Judith would not fall in love with a boy whose lack of ambition would let him stay as a parking lot jockey. That's not to say that he was ready for her to fall in love at all, after all, she wasn't even nineteen yet.
Harper started work as a helper with one of the other crews. Jim Carmody's judgement was soon confirmed by the crew foreman. Harper was a hard worker and a quick learner. The foreman had some concern about how well he would get along with the other men but that was put to rest when he saw how Harper accepted the practical jokes that a new man always got on the job. They soon accepted him and were willing to help him learn the job.
It was Gary Anderson, one of the young carpenters in that crew, who asked Harper if he wanted to share his apartment. That gave Jim a little something to worry about since he knew enough about Gary to hope that Judi never decided to go out with him. But on the whole Jim thought that things could be a lot worse as he watched his daughter growing into womanhood.
Harper turned the bus ticket in for a refund in September, right after he moved into the apartment with Gary. Judi drove him to the bus depot to do it.
"I've got to get a way to get around," he told her. "I can't be having you drive me everywhere in your car."
"You said you weren't rich," she laughed. "Why don't you get a bicycle?"
"If I wanted to take you to the movies would you go on my bicycle?"
"Sure, we could leave it in the lobby. Seriously, you could get by without a car, I'd go to the movies with you. We can take my car, you can drive."
"One of the guys I parked cars with has a motor scooter for sale, I might buy that. Would you ride with me?"
"Sure, would you let me drive it?"
That scooter kept Harper from feeling dependent on either Judi or Gary for getting around Las Vegas. He and Judi rode it together some but mostly they used Judi's car on dates. Mrs. Carmody held in her memory that first evening several weeks ago when Judith had brought Harper by the house. "I'll not hurt her, Ma'am," he had said. Perhaps she, more than her husband, knew that if Judi was to really fall in love with Harper, that promise would be hard to keep. The words of an old popular song came to her, "You always hurt the one you love, the one you shouldn't hurt at all." About the only way that he wouldn't hurt Judi was to go on to Los Angeles before she fell in love with him. It may have been too late for that. Who could mark that point in time when the attraction for another person turns to love?
If the boys in Judi's school had talked about her, it would have been to say that she was "hard to get". Perhaps because she kept things under control on a date. She was finding that more difficult to do with Harper. Not because of him, he wasn't trying anything that the others hadn't tried. In fact it was his tentative touch, where others had been demanding, that she found non-threatening and exciting. It was her own feelings that she was having difficulty with, the feeling of pleasure at seeing him walk up to the door after a day or two of not seeing him, the anticipation of the times alone with him, her own pleasure in the lingering kisses and the warm embraces that sometimes lasted as long as the movies that they followed. No other boy had successfully gotten a hand under her blouse, she had let Harper remove her bra and had enjoyed the caresses that followed. There it had stopped. Almost. She established that as the limit, but little excursions beyond were tempting to them both.
The last trip to the lake for summer swimming provided the occasion for the most powerful assault on that limit that Judi had established. She and Harper were out in the boat alone, her parents were napping at their picnic site. A remote little cove provided a place to beach the boat for another swim. They swam and played for a while then holding hands in shallow water, Harper pulled her close and they kissed long and hard. She felt his building excitement and helped as he lowered the straps of her suit. His hands were on her breasts, it was her hands that lowered the suit to her ankles She stepped out of it and threw it on the beach. His suit followed and they were in each others arms again, bodies pressing close. Putting her hands on his chest she pushed him back. "We'd better swim," she said and plunged into the deeper water. Harper followed her, letting the water cool his ardor. They swam for a little bit, then Judi waded out of the water and, unembarrassed by his watching or by his nakedness, put her suit on. Harper did the same, then taking her in his arms again he said, "I love you. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
By January Harper had saved a little money and he asked Jim Carmody to help him shop for a car. They found a small used pickup truck. Jim explained that it would help him if he started getting some tools and he would need a way to carry them. That would help him get ahead in the building trades. Harper had saved enough for a good down payment and could handle the monthly payments if the work continued as it had been.
The work had continued and Harper was beginning to learn a little bit about several of the different trades involved. The tools that he started acquiring were primarily carpenter's tools. That was probably why W.G. Arthur, the owner of the firm asked him if he'd like to learn that trade.
"I'd like to learn all the trades," Harper replied.
"Why?" Mr. Arthur was a little surprised at the response.
"Well, I guess I like to be able to do different kinds of things. Then too, if there wasn't any work in one trade I could try another."
"Do you realize how long some of the fellows you work with have been in their trade?"
"Yes sir, I know they've been at it a long time but that don't mean it would take me that long to learn to do it as good as they can."
"Don't you think they do their work well?"
"Seems to me that some are better than others," Harper said cautiously. "They all do ok, I guess."
"If you want to try to learn carpentering, I'll talk to your foreman and see if he can get you started on a program. What do you say?"
"Yes sir, I'd like that."
"Ok, you'll hear from your boss, if he can come up with something. Good luck, son."
Mr. Arthur called Harper's foreman Bill Cruz, in to talk about it. He had the other foreman, Jim Carmody, there too.
"You've had this kid, Harper Dodson in your crew for six months now, Bill. Tell me all you can about him."
After Bill's favorable report of his attitude and quickness to learn, Mr. Arthur asked Jim how he felt about Harper now that he had known him for a while.
"He's still dating my daughter, W.G. We've had him with us on family outings, he goes to church with us, seems like a good steady kid to me."
Mr. Arthur then told them what he had in mind. "I'd like to have a young man trained to either follow one of you fellows, lead a small expansion crew, or to get into bidding work for us. You know how much I value a man's ability to do a job before he asks someone else to do it. That's what I like about you fellows, you can look at a job and see that it was done right. And what's more, you can watch a man who's doing it and see that he is doing it right. Now you tell me, is this kid worth putting some training effort into?"
Both Jim and Bill agreed that Harper had potential to absorb additional skills and accept responsibility.
"Then here's what I want to do." The owner then outlined a plan to put Harper in as an apprentice carpenter. Then he would be placed with the electricians for a similar period. After that, the plumbers. It was expected that he would produce less work for the first few weeks but before long he ought to be doing a good day's work. His pay would be gradually brought up to that of a journeyman
"We can help him get any schooling that he might need, there are adult education classes that might fit this type of program." W.G. went on to say, "Naturally, if he doesn't show the type of progress that he should, we'll stop the whole thing."
There was hardly any decision required. "It's all win, no lose," Harper ended up as he told Judi about the opportunity. There was not much that he hadn't told Judi over the past few months. He even told her about his middle name, but not until she had asked.
"What does the B stand for?"
"It stands for Boy," he said.
"No really, what is it?"
"It is B, o, y." he spelled it out for her and waited for the expected comment.
"Well?" he asked when she said nothing at all.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I was trying to guess your mother's thoughts to give you that as a name. What did she call you?"
"Boy."
"I suppose she must have wanted a boy very badly. I think when I have a baby I'd want a boy first."
Harper had even told her about the trip with the liquor. She thought that it was a good thing that he had left home when he did, he could have gotten in real trouble.
"It's better not to tell my folks about that," she said.
In the group that Judi brought Harper into, there were several boys that Judi had dated. Harper found himself jealous of even the slightest attention that they paid to her.
"You're going to have to get over that," she told him firmly. "I've known some of these kids all my life. I'm not about to cut them dead just because I'm in love with you! Besides don't tell me you went all through school and never looked at a girl."
"Ok, I'll let you talk to them," he laughed. "And you're right, I looked at some girls, but none as pretty as you. I went steady with a girl all through my senior year but we broke it off at the last."
"What was her name?"
"Dorothy Parker."
"Why did you break up?"
"She was going away to college. We were neither one of us thinking about getting married or anything."
Harper was wrong there.
Dorothy Parker didn't go to college. Her father wanted her to, so did her step mother but for a different reason. The memory of Dorothy's mother was an almost constant irritant in that house. Dorothy wouldn't give it up and thought that her father gave it up too easily. Barely three months after she had died, he had married again. Dorothy knew that he had been seeing another woman during her mother's illness and never forgave him. When she moved in, just three months after her mother's funeral, there was no hope for friendship. It was worse to see the changes that she made, removing the stamp of the first Mrs. Parker's personality and substituting her own.
"Daddy, how can you let her do this?" Dorothy complained.
"It's her house now, Dorothy. She's got a right to fix it up like she wants. Besides, you'll be going off to school after this senior year and you'll meet some fine man, get married and never live here again."
Dorothy told Harper about it right after graduation. "I'll be glad to be gone," she said to him. "My father would probably like it if I didn't even come home for vacations."
That was her last date with Harper. She made the choice, told him that she wanted to break it off. "We can still be friends, can't we?" she asked.
Three months later her doctor told her that she was pregnant. Dorothy didn't have to wonder who was the father or when it could have happened. The memory of that night stood alone in her mind. The little party after the Senior Prom, then parking on that deserted road and making love in the back of Harper's car, it was one of those certainties of life.
During the past year she had been a frequent visitor at Harper's home. Mrs. Dodson had liked her and had let it be known from the start. Dorothy called on Mrs. Dodson one evening in early September.
"Hello Dorothy, won't you come in?"
"I can only stay a minute, Mrs. Dodson, I just came by to see if you've heard from Harper."
"Well yes, I got a little note from him just a few days ago."
"How's he getting along, did he say?"
"You know Harper, Dorothy, he didn't say much. Hold on, I'll get it and let you see."
Mrs. Dodson got the letter and let Dorothy read it. "Do you mind if I take the address?", she asked.
"No, child. You go right on. I expect he'd be glad to hear from you."
Dorothy's visit puzzled her for a while, but she put it out of her mind. As for Dorothy, she couldn't bring herself to write to Harper. She knew that she couldn't go ahead with the plan to go away to school but the thought of telling her father about it really frightened her. "If only Mother were here," she told herself. "I could talk to her about it." She never even considered trying to talk to her step mother.
It was her father who forced the issue into the open. "I'm sending the check for your tuition," he told her. "You should establish a checking account in a bank here, then I can deposit your monthly expense allowance in it."
The dreaded confrontation was coming. In a last effort to postpone it she said, "Daddy, I've been thinking that I would rather use the money that it would cost you to send me to school and get myself an apartment. Then I'll get a job and I would be out of your hair and hers too."
That Dorothy never used her step mother's name was not lost on Mr. Parker. Each time that she deliberately avoided using it was another reminder that he would have no end to the constant tension in his house until Dorothy was gone. It came as a shock to him though that she didn't want to continue with a plan that had appealed to her before, and for which she had even given up her boy friend.
"Do you know what you're saying?" he asked in amazement. "We went through all this long ago. You know that your job potential will be so much better after school. Not only that, where do you think you are going to meet the kind on man that you want to marry?"
The discussion downgraded to the argument level quickly. It ended when the new Mrs. Parker came into the room and Dorothy walked out in the middle of one of his statements. Going into her room and slamming the door she threw herself on her bed and burst into tears, her basic problem of telling her father still unsolved. She had made the suggestion of getting the school money in desperation, not really expecting that it would happen, and it probably wouldn't have except for her step mother. She wanted Dorothy out of the house. She also saw the years of college expense stretching ahead of them. This desire of Dorothy's could eliminate the continuing expense and get her out quickly.
"If I get her out of here, she'll never get back in!" she promised herself.
It wasn't necessary for Mr. Parker to repeat to his wife the request that Dorothy had made, she had heard every word, but she listened as he repeated the request, still indignant at the unreasonable change in plan that Dorothy wanted to make. Carefully she lead him down the path of rationalization to the place that she wanted him to be. By the time she finished he thought that it was his own idea to solidify their future relationships by acceding to Dorothy's request and keeping her happy.
It took Dorothy over a week to find a place that she could afford. Her first reaction had been one of relief that she hadn't had to tell her father that she was pregnant. Obviously it must be done but later would be time enough. The tuition money she tried to save, planning to live on the monthly allowance that her father agreed to keep up for the first year. She spent some time getting things of her own moved into the tiny apartment that she had rented, then started looking for a job. That was what she was doing when she came into the office where Mrs. Dodson worked.
"Hello Dorothy. Did you hear from Harper?"
"No, I haven't written to him yet."
"Well, I've gotten another letter from him. He has a new address."
Dorothy went to see Mrs. Dodson that very evening. Being alone had given her more time to think about her problem but all she had been able to do was worry about it. She had no idea as to how to handle it. As she told Mrs. Dodson about looking for a job, she found herself telling her all about the situation at home, how she mourned the loss of her mother, the resentment she had for her father's infidelity during her mother's illness, and the mutual hatred that had become obvious between her and her step mother.
At last she had found a sympathetic listener. As the words poured out and the tears started to flow, Mrs. Dodson took her into her arms as she had her own child when he was young and came to her with his hurts. There was then no stopping, Dorothy poured out the whole story. How she and Harper had gone too far to stop and she went to the doctor to confirm that she was pregnant.
Mrs. Dodson was quiet for a long time, holding Dorothy as she would a child, till the sobbing stopped and the tears stopped flowing.
"Had you just found out when you came to see me?"
"Yes, I was going to write and tell Harper but I just couldn't. He didn't want to marry me, and I wasn't thinking about marrying him. Now I just can't try to force him into something."
"I'm going to fix us some tea and we'll sit and talk about it for a while."
Dorothy followed her into the kitchen, wiping her eyes. "Oh, Mrs. Dodson, I feel awful, dumping all my troubles on you this way, but I feel better too. Thank you for listening to me and letting me cry on your shoulder."
"Child.....," she started, then changed and started again. "Dorothy, you are going to need a friend, would you like it to be me?"
"Oh yes, Mrs. Dodson, I'd like to think you were my friend and I could come and talk to you again."
"We'll start by your calling me Mary. I'll be your friend, and I think you'll need more than some one to talk to now and then! Are you planning to have the baby?
"Oh yes, I couldn't do anything like an abortion."
"Good, I know how you feel. But this is a hard road ahead of you. Now let's have our tea."
Mary Dodson let Dorothy talk about anything that she felt like as they finished their tea. Dorothy was reluctant to leave and stayed long after the tea was gone.
"Why don't you come and see me tomorrow night," Mrs. Dodson asked as Dorothy was leaving. "We,ll talk some more."
When Dorothy was gone, Mary Overton Dodson walked through her empty house. There was Harper's room, his things still very much in evidence, the little work room, where she kept her sewing machine and let things pile up. She walked into the kitchen and looked at the table where she and Dorothy had sat for tea, the first time since Harper left that there had been more than herself at that table.
"I think I have a room for rent," she said to herself, "with kitchen privileges."
The memories that had never really left her came flooding back. For all she knew Harper and Dorothy may have been parked on the same deserted road that she Bill Dodson had been parked on that night long ago. His boot camp days at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center over, he was on a short leave before reporting to his first assignment. Mary Overton had been his best girl when he left for boot camp and his promise to her was that she always would be. She didn't know it but she was pregnant when he left the next day for his assignment to the USS Arizona. The location was Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. He was so new on board that he hadn't even been assigned a battle station when the bombs started falling on December 7, 1941. Mary waited months for a letter before she counted him among the hundreds of sailors who went down with that great ship on that fateful day.
Dorothy came to see Mrs. Dodson again the following evening. "I feel so much better since talking to you," she said. "I could have talked to Mother about it. She would have listened, she loved me. She wouldn't have liked it but she wouldn't have thrown me out of the house. I'm not sure what Daddy will do when he finds out."
"It might be better if you don't rush into that," Mary said. "How is the job hunting going?"
"I don't know, there are some people who say they might be able to use me, maybe part time, but I don't have anything very promising yet."
"Well, don't you give up. These things take time."
"I know I don't have much to offer, but I can type pretty good."
"Dorothy, I have been thinking about renting out Harper's old room. Would you like to come and live with me? You could pay a little rent to help with the grocery bill, maybe less than you're paying now. You could be saving money for the time that you'll need it."
"Oh Mrs. Dodson....." Dorothy burst into tears and threw herself into Mary's arms again.
"I guess that means you would." Mary said.
"Oh yes, I feel so alone where I am. At times I almost feel that I'd rather fight with my step mother." She gave a little laugh as she wiped away the tears, "Well, not quite!"
"Good, then it's settled. You can help me clear away some of Harper's things and you can move into that room."
Mary showed Dorothy the room that she would be staying in. It was a strange feeling for Dorothy, standing there in his room, looking at pictures of racing automobiles, his fishing pole hanging on hooks high on one wall, his tennis racket laying on the dresser. "And his child in my womb", she thought as she sat on his bed and looked at Mary.
"You don't have to do this," she told her. "It's not your fault or Harper's either. It's my own stupid fault that I'm this way."
"No, I know I don't, I'm just being your friend because you need one and I want it to be me. Why don't you just stay here tonight? The bed's been changed and we can talk as long as you want to. Tomorrow 's Saturday, I can help you move your things over here"
Dorothy was content to let Mary make the decisions. By Monday morning the fishing pole and the tennis racket were on the garage wall, the racing automobiles were gone and most of Harper's other things had been stored in boxes in the garage. Her things had been moved from the apartment and she was able to see a little of herself in the room instead of a lot of Harper.
It was nearly Christmas time and Dorothy still hadn't told her father that she was expecting. She wouldn't have had to tell him if he had chanced to see her on the street. She had stopped working a week ago, it just got too uncomfortable meeting the stares of some of the people who knew her. Some avoided mentioning what had at last become obvious. Others were frank to ask questions. Those got short answers and almost no information other than the baby was due in the spring. Actually the due date was February 15.
These past three months with Mary had meant more to her than Dorothy could ever tell. Mary had been like a mother to her. From a frightened schoolgirl, facing the unknown, she had changed to a reasonably calm young woman, preparing herself for motherhood. Mary had gone back to her doctor with her, seeing that she had a continuing program with him. She explained to him that Dorothy was no longer a minor and was living with her, it would not be necessary or helpful to communicate with Mr. Parker.
Today, they were in a department store doing some shopping. Mary led them to the men's department where she started looking at sweaters. Holding up two she asked, "Do you think one of these would be all right for Harper?"
"Sure, either one. I like the blue one best, he'd look good in that."
After that purchase they walked on through the store, the children's department stopped them.
"After Christmas we should start laying in some baby things. We'll get a bassinet and start fixing up the little work room for a nursery."
Dorothy gave her a hug. "Mary, I think you are looking forward to this baby coming!"
Mary just smiled. She had devoted the last three months to trying to create exactly that attitude in Dorothy herself. She was sure that it was working.
One thing that Mrs. Dodson couldn't understand was how Mr. Parker could let so much time go by without seeing his daughter. Dorothy talked to him on the phone sometimes, he knew that she had a room in Mrs. Dodson's house and he knew that she had a job, but he still didn't know that she was pregnant.
"Do you suppose that someone has told him but he won't say anything about it till you do?" asked Mary that evening.
"I think that if he had heard it we would have heard the explosion all over town."
Mr. Parker had not heard it yet but only because the new Mrs. Parker was wondering how to tell him. She had been in the department store and saw Dorothy and Mrs. Dodson in the men's department. Surprised, she had almost confronted Dorothy. Then, thinking that nothing was to be gained, she avoided their path and watched as they made their way toward the children's department. "No doubt about it," she told herself. "The girl is pregnant!"
"I could say nothing about this, be surprised when it comes out in the open, and let the chips fall where they may," she said to herself as she made her way home. "Or, I could make the chips fall where I want them." What she wanted hadn't changed, she wanted Dorothy out of their home for good. She had been willing to pay the price of financial support for a year to have that happen. Now she didn't want to take a chance that this pregnancy would create a sympathetic reversal of her husband's position and result not only in Dorothy coming back but a baby as well.
She had suggested more than once that life would be more exciting in a larger city, with it's night life and broader range of cultural activities. He had admitted that his business could be relocated. It was mostly inertia that kept him saying "No" after Dorothy had finished high school. If she played this right she might accomplish that move as well.
"Bless your heart, Dorothy, you might have done something for me after all," she said to herself.
It was carefully done. His image in the community, the disgrace brought to him as a father and to them as a couple, her own righteous indignation, the gossip that would precede them to every social function, these were the levers she used to move him, to create the fear of disgrace, to feed his anger and finally to get the commitment. There were two commitments, really. One was to prepare to move the business and their home to the city as soon after the New Year as possible. The other was to pretend that they didn't know and to quietly cut the bond as they left town. That, she explained, would prevent them being held as hard and cruel parents, deserting a needy, unfortunate girl who had made a mistake.
"Thank you, Dorothy," she murmured to herself as she prepared for bed that night.
I guess I'll stay in Las Vegas for a while and maybe longer. I've got a girl, her name is Judith Carmody and her family is nice too.
Glad to hear you rented out my room, I'm sure the money will come in handy. Hope you are ok.
your son,
Harper
"Here's a letter from Harper," Mary was leafing through a bunch of mail. Putting the rest aside, she tore open the envelope and read through it quickly before she read it aloud to Dorothy. "Dated on the nineteenth," she added.
It was quiet for a moment, Mary wondering how Dorothy would be reacting to the simple statement about Judith.
"He's got a girl," Dorothy laughed. "I see what's keeping him in Las Vegas, now."
In the first few weeks after moving in with Mary, she had let herself imagine what it would be like for Harper to come home and be a husband to her and a father to the baby. At times those dreams carried her into a fairyland of happiness, she saw herself in a little home for the three of them, or proudly pushing the stroller down the street with Harper by her side, waving to all her friends or letting them admire their beautiful baby. On her darker days the fantasies often took the other path. She saw a morose and unhappy Harper forced into an unwanted marriage by circumstance, in a cruel and traumatic home with an unwanted baby. She usually roused herself from these daydreams with a shudder and forced herself back to the real world. She gradually put the dreaming aside and opened herself to the friendship that Mary offered.
"I don't want Harper to know," she had told Mary when she moved in. Later on she and Mary had talked about her desire to keep quiet about the baby, and agreed that Harper could not be told that it was Dorothy who was in his room.
"Daddy called today," Dorothy said after Mary had finished looking at the mail. "He is moving to the city. That doesn't surprise me. She has wanted him to ever since she married him, maybe even before."
"Are you going to tell him about the baby?"
"Ouch! Quit that, young lady." Dorothy was looking down at her swollen body. "She is a kicker. I think she's going to be a cheerleader."
"No," she continued. "I don't plan to tell him until after she's born. Maybe I'll send him a picture, addressed to Grandpa. That'll make his young wife happy!"
I'm writing this to assure that there will be no mistaking the meaning or intentions of my last communication to you. Your actions and your current condition are an intolerable disgrace to myself and my wife. Our only course of action is to separate ourselves from the stigma that you have brought on your family. As of that action you are no longer to consider yourself a part of that family.
My commitment to provide for your support for a year has been fulfilled with the additional and final deposit that I made to your bank account today.
I expect no response to this now or ever!
Joseph. P. Parker
The baby was born right on time. Dorothy's conviction that it was to be a girl turned out to be poorly founded. The doctor who filled in the birth certificate asked the father's name and the baby's name. He got the father's name but Dorothy hadn't picked a boy's name. The certificate was filed as he had sketched it in. It was two weeks later that the Department of Registration had processed the papers and mailed a copy of the Birth Certificate to Dorothy. By that time she had decided to call him John. He would be called John Boy Dodson.
Dorothy didn't send her father a picture, but only because she didn't know his address.
There was no formal proposal from Harper, at least Judi couldn't remember him ever asking her if she would marry him. She certainly hadn't asked him! Yet they had been talking about being married ever since that last afternoon at the lake last summer. One evening after Harper was well started on the training program they were sitting in the Carmody living room with both of her parents.
"Mr. Carmody, Judi and I want to get married."
The older Carmodys looked at each other.
"We,d like your permission," Harper went on, "We could get an apartment and.."
"Hold it, son," Jim interrupted. "This is not exactly surprising to us but let's talk about it a little before you go on about getting an apartment. How long have you kids been seeing each other?"
"Nine months." Judi and Harper answered together.
"And how old are you?"
"I'll be nineteen in August" Harper answered. "And Judi's almost as old as I am!"
"Don't those numbers tell you kids anything?"
"Yes sir, we're young, but we know we love each other and want to be together. We have made a long time commitment to each other."
"Judi, your mother and I have talked about this before. We don't think that you should marry before you are twenty."
"Daddy! That's forever."
"We didn't think we would get married tomorrow," Harper added. "We realize that there would need to be time for planning, and we could save up a little more money. We will have been going together a year in August."
"We'd like to get married then," Judi said.
"If they don't know each other in a year, Jim," Mrs. Carmody spoke for the first time, "They won't be any better in a year and a half."
From that time till the wedding reception was over and the honeymoon started, Mrs. Carmody became "The Mother Of The Bride". Jim was prepared to pay for it, Judi would star in it and Harper would play a supporting role, but the production was by Mrs. James Carmody.
John Boy Dodson was three months old when the letter from Harper came.
"Dorothy," Mary had said to her before she went to the hospital, "I have enjoyed the past six months so, I hope that you will think of this as your home. You have become like a daughter to me, and this little girl or boy is going to be my grandchild. Your home is here as long as you want to stay."
Indeed, Dorothy's need had drawn from Mary that same care and concern that she would have given to a daughter. Dorothy in her desperation had turned to her as she would have her own mother, had she been alive. A mutual love had been born of that need.
Mary opened the letter from Harper and read it aloud.
I got you letter awhile back, sorry that I haven't answered it sooner. I have been real busy. Last month Mr. Arnold, he is the owner of the company, gave me a better job and I have to do some studying too.
I'll try to answer your questions, yes, Judi is pretty. It is a Baptist church and that is where the Carmodys go.
I hope that you will get to see Judi before too long. We are going to get married in August and I hope that you can come to the wedding. It will be on Sunday the 13th.
I am saving some money and will pay your way on an airplane if you will come. Mrs. Carmody says she will write to you about it.
Love, Harper
"I hope you will go to the wedding, Mary"
"I don't know, I hate to leave you and John Boy."
"We'll be all right. Besides that's three months away. This little guy will be nearly grown by then!"
"We'll see, I'd dearly love to see my boy and meet his bride."
There was a lot for everybody to do in the next three months. Harper had two evening classes each week in the Adult Education Program held at the High School. Some Saturdays he worked too. The overtime pay was helping him get enough money saved to be able to do all that he had to do. He sold the motor scooter for almost as much as he had paid for it. "That almost pays for my mother's plane fare," he told Judi.
"I'm sure not seeing much of you," he complained as the wedding was only two weeks away. That was true. His working and classes and her preparations for the wedding had limited their time together. Harper couldn't understand why everything took so long. The decisions that seemed simple to him took hours of discussion and then sometimes were deferred. Some evenings he had sat all evening with Jim and watched television while Judi and her mother poured over magazines and books, making plans.
On the Saturday, just eight days before the wedding, Jim took his daughter to the lake for what was the last such day that they would have together. It was a day neither of them would forget, not for any exciting adventure, it was a calm, quiet day. Jim didn't even do well fishing. They would remember sharing the solitude, nothing marring the enjoyment of the warm blue sky, the rippling water stretching across the lake to touch the mountains on the other side. He would remember how proud he was of her and how beautiful she was, floppy hat, faded shirt, tennis shoes and all.
Mr. and Mrs. James Carmody
cordially invite you
to attend the wedding of
their daughter
Judith Ann
to
Harper B. Dodson
To be held at
The First Baptist Church
Of Las Vegas
At 3:00 P.M Sunday August 13, 1961
Reception following
in the Social Hall
Mary showed Dorothy the invitation and the note from Mrs. Carmody that accompanied it. "It was nice of her to ask Harper and me to dinner Saturday evening. You know she's going to have a lot on her mind with the wedding the next day and all. But I'm glad that I won't have to meet them for the first time at the wedding."
"I'm sure they are nice people and they can't help but love you. You'll get there at two thirty and have most of the afternoon to visit with Harper before dinner."
Harper had sent her a round trip ticket and promised to meet her at the gate. It would be her first trip by air and she had been nervous about it from the very first. Dorothy tried to assure her that it was very safe to fly.
"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Mary said. "I just won't know what to do about things, getting on and finding my way at the Las Vegas airport. It's all so new to me."
"You'll be fine, Mary. They'll tell you what to do and where to go, don't you worry."
"And my suitcase, that will have to be checked."
"I'll be there to help get you checked in. It'll be a lot easier that you getting me checked in at the Hospital. Harper will get it on the other end, now you stop fretting about everything. It's going to be easy, just you wait and see."
Mary was packed well ahead of time. Her new dress for the wedding and the new things to go with it, all in her new suitcase. Dorothy drove her to the airport and walked with her to the ticket counter carrying John Boy. After the bag was checked and the ticket validated, with no help from Dorothy, they sat together and waited for the flight to be called.
"See how easy it is? Now you just relax and enjoy this trip."
Mary smiled at her, still a little nervous. "I wish I could take this John Boy along and show him off," she said,taking the baby from Dorothy.
"Now don't you go having any confidential conversations with Harper about him," Dorothy said firmly. "And I'm serious!"
"I'll just show him John Boy's picture," Mary teased.
"You do and I'll never let you hold him again."
Mary held him till the flight was called, then giving him back to Dorothy and giving her a hug and kiss she gathered up her things and followed other passengers as they filed through the gate, out onto the ramp and up the stairs to the plane.
Finding her seat wasn't difficult and she had a little help from the stewardess in stowing her wrap and packages on the shelf over her seat. It wasn't until the plane had started the takeoff run that she felt the fright. The engines suddenly roared, the plane shook and the ground started flying by, faster and faster. Suddenly she felt herself pressed down in the seat and the roughness of the wheels on the runway disappeared. The front of the plane came up sharply and the ground fell away. Almost immediately there was an awful thump and she could feel it with her feet. She looked around, wide-eyed with fear. Everybody was calm, no one else had even noticed the noise apparently. The man in the seat next to her put his hand on her arm, "That was the wheels coming up," he said quietly. "Every thing is ok." She smiled her thank you, too nervous to trust her voice. He talked to her for a while, asking for her destination, where did she live, and what was the trip for. That helped and she was fairly calm when the roar of the engines suddenly got much less. Quickly her seat mate said, "It's ok. The pilot just adjusted the power to stop climbing and cruise at this altitude."
Looking out the window, Mary began to enjoy what she was experiencing. Forward through the circles of the propellers she saw flat country, marked off in great squares. Out over the end of the wing she could see the same. Great fields of wheat, as far as she could see. Mary was seeing at one time more ground than she had traveled over before in all her life. After a while, as she looked forward, she could see the flat horizon being broken by rising mountains. It seem that they were growing as she watched.
A touch on her arm and the man said as she turned to him,"We will be letting down to go into Denver soon. The engines will get quieter and then after a time we will hear the noise of the wheels going down again."
"Thank you", Mary said. I'm glad you were here on my first flight."
"We won't be long in Denver, then we will see some spectacular scenery if the weather is clear."
"Will we see the Grand Canyon?"
"We usually do on this flight"
He was correct, the weather was clear and Mary saw the Rockies, and the Grand Canyon of the Colorado as they flew on to Las Vegas. She spent most of the flight with her head turned to the window, only occasionally making a comment to her helpful seatmate who spent most of the flight reading a book.
As they landed at Las Vegas the anxiety came again, would Harper be there, would he find her, has he changed much? All in vain of course, there he was, a big welcoming smile on his face, waiting as she came through the gate.
Harper greeted his mother with a big hug and a kiss. "Hi Mom, I'm sure glad to see you."
"I'm glad to see you too, Son. I think you've filled out a bit. You look real good."
They were together all afternoon. Harper had a room for her in a nice motel and after she was settled in there, he took her for a drive around town.
"This is a nice little truck you've got " she told him. "I took all my tools and stuff out and cleaned it all up. We're going to take it on our honeymoon"
It was easy for Harper to tell her all about his activities in Las Vegas and he had lots to talk about. When he asked her about things back home, it wasn't so easy. Almost all of her life for the past year had been centered around Dorothy and John Boy. That subject she couldn't talk about and other than her work there was little else to tell. Fortunately, Harper was so full of things to talk about that he didn't even notice.
They were back at the motel in time for her to freshen up before arriving at the Carmody's at six thirty.
Jim met them at the door and Harper proudly introduced his mother. There was little formality, "I'm Jim," he stated as Harper had introduced him as Mr. Carmody.
"And I'm Alice," came from Mrs. Carmody.
"I'm so pleased to meet you both, please call me Mary" "And this is the girl you came to see", Jim said as Judi came in from another room.
"Hello, Mrs. Dodson,"
"Hello Judi." Mary held out both hands but Judi walked between them and put her arms around Mary. "I'm glad you're here," she said and gave Mary a kiss on the cheek.
Mary returned the hug and then held Judi at arms length. "Let me look at you, Harper told me you were beautiful, I think he was right."
Judi left Mary and went to Harper. "Hi." They exchanged a quick kiss while three proud parents watched.
Alice Carmody had set just the right tone for that dinner and that evening of getting acquainted, not formal or elaborate and not so casual as to appear less important than it was.
"What a lovely family," Mary told Harper on the way to her motel. "Now I know why you didn't go on to Los Angeles."
All evening long she had the urge to take from her purse the picture of John Boy to confirm the inescapable facial similarity.
"I pronounce you man and wife. May god bless the union of these young people. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost."
Reverend Mel Perkins turned to Harper ,"You may kiss the bride."
Some of the young men may have been able to watch the joining of those two beautiful young people in marriage with dry eyes. All women and most older men recognize the time when love is new and tender, and the tenderness brings the tears. The love may grow stronger but not sweeter. Its the sharing of the joy of the sweetness that makes the eyes water.
Judi was a beautiful bride, everybody said so. So did the dozens of photographs that were taken of her and Harper and the whole wedding party. The Social Hall seemed to be constantly lighted by flash bulbs for the first ten minutes or so of the reception. After a while Harper was able to circulate with his mother and introduce her to some of the other young people of the church group, some of the men that he worked with, and the minister.
"Mother, this is Mel Perkins, he is the pastor here."
"Well, son, I had that figured out already. Good afternoon, Reverend Perkins"
"Hello, Mrs. Dodson," Mel said. "I must tell you that we have enjoyed having your son among us for the last year. He came in and took a prize away from some of our young fellows. Judi is such a sweet girl!"
"I was glad to know that he was going to church, I hope Judi can keep him coming."
Soon it was time for the reception to end. With fanfare and among shouted good wishes, Harper and Judi took off in his shined up little truck. They stopped at the Carmody house and changed to traveling clothes. Mary and the Carmodys caught up with them there and the three parents watched as the bridal couple started out on their honeymoon.
Jim Carmody took her to her motel that evening and on the following morning was there to take her to the airport. "I want to thank you and Alice for your hospitality. Please tell Alice again for me that it was a beautiful wedding. I know she must be exhausted."
"I will, Mary. Now you have a fine trip home. I hope you can come to see us again sometime."
It was a fine trip home. During the first half, Mary was reliving the two days with Harper, the second half was spent anticipating being back with Dorothy and John Boy.
At last Harper was on his way to Los Angeles. He and Judi had planned the trip to stay within their limited budget and the available time. Harper had earned one week of paid vacation in the year that he had worked for Mr. Arnold and they planned a night in Riverside, five nights in San Diego and one night in Los Angeles. Then it would be their first night in their new apartment.
They had left the city limits of Las Vegas and were climbing the grade to the first mountain pass before the feeling of being part of the wedding left them. Harper felt her relax against his shoulder and knew what she was feeling.
"We"re married!" He took his eyes off the road for a moment and looked down at her face.
"You drive and I'll kiss," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
"Didn't Mother and Daddy give us a nice wedding?"
"I'll say they did but I'm glad it's over. I can hardly wait to get to our hotel." He took his hand off the wheel and put his arm around her.
"You're being very familiar, sir. If you're in such a hurry why did you make our reservations in a hotel so far away?"
"Because, Sweetheart, I want our first night to be first class, all the way. The Mission Inn at Riverside is the closest first class hotel I could find!"
It was their only extravagant evening on the trip and they savored every minute of it. The room was elegant and after freshening up they went to the dining room for a late dinner. They lingered over dinner, enjoying being together, knowing the fulfilment that was ahead but not rushing into it. Their loving was that way, too.
"I'm glad this was the first time," she said as they lay in each other's arms, resting.
Morning found them just that way.
Those were lazy balmy days in San Diego. Mission bay gave them their first salt water swimming. The Naval base gave them their first look at warships, the harbor let them see large freighters for the first time. Old Town let them walk around holding hands, peeking at history. All in all San Diego was good to them. La Jolla showed them beauty of homes, beaches and rocky shoreline. Torrey Pines gave of it's seaside beauty and let them watch slender, graceful sailplanes soaring over the palisades, riding the rising wind from the sea. Casting a rosy glow over it all, enhancing the beauty of every day was their private place, where they could show again their love for each other, till there was no strangeness left and they were indeed, man and wife.
Los Angeles was then just a quick stop on the way home. They were ready to start their new life together. In truth, they didn't even stop in Los Angeles, They spent the day at Disneyland and that night right there in Anaheim. The Freeway took them into Los Angeles and out without their even stopping. It was out the San Bernardino Freeway and over the Cajon Pass on Sunday morning. Then on to Barstow, then Baker, up the grade and over the top. Soon they could see Las Vegas, tiny in the distance. They were still descending, the small spot on the endless desert getting larger and larger, when Judi said, "Lets go by the house and tell the folks that we're back."
"Ok, we should be there by four o'clock."
Harper sounded the horn as he pulled the little pickup into the driveway at the Carmody's.
"Don't do that, they may be taking a nap."
"Well, if they were we'd wake them up anyway, wouldn't we?"
Jim and Alice weren't napping. Not an evening had past during the last week that one or the other of them hadn't said, "I wonder how the kids are getting along." or "I hope Judi is all right."
This Sunday afternoon had been spent waiting, expecting that the kids, as they called them, would drive up any minute. The starting time from Los Angeles had been estimated, the driving time added and the watching started early. The blaring horn was not a surprise, just an end to the worry.
I was so glad that you could come to our wedding, it just wouldn't have been complete without you there. Thank you so much for the lovely silver bowl. I will find so many uses for it and will try to keep it forever.
Harper and I had a wonderful time on our honeymoon. We spent the first night in a beautiful hotel in Riverside, then on to San Diego, and finally spent a day at Disneyland. We were just like children and took the exciting rides.
Harper went back to work on Monday morning and has been trying to catch up on some of his school work this week. I will keep working at the cafe for a while to help get our place fixed up, but I am going to try to get them to change my hours. I don't like not getting home till after eight o'clock.
As we left church this morning, Mel Perkins asked me to tell you that Harper got off to a good start, he was in church the first Sunday we were back.
Love from us both,
Judi
Mary hadn't been back from Las Vegas for more than a month when she noticed Dorothy's restlessness. Looking back at the last year, Mary was not surprised. The last six months of her pregnancy and the first six months of John Boy's babyhood had provided two distinctly different but powerful reasons for her isolation from the life style that she had been used to. It had taken a full year out of her teens. "I should have seen it coming," Mary told herself. "Now, what can I do about it?"
Dorothy was the one who did something about it. She began to go out evenings. At first it was with one of the girls she had known all through school. Later it became a double date or just going out with one of the fellows.
Mary was at home anyway and keeping watch over John Boy was a joy for her. The practice of her keeping him at night gave the solution to the problem of how could Dorothy start earning a living. This problem would have to be faced soon, her bank account was getting smaller and smaller.
The job that Dorothy found wasn't to Mary's liking but she wasn't in a position to prevent her taking it. One of the girls she met had suggested that she try at a night spot on the edge of town. "They might be able to use you as a cocktail waitress. You'd make pretty good money if you worked it right."
They worked out a routine and while Mary suspected that Dorothy didn't get as much sleep as she should, she did seem to keep on top of the baby's care and her share of the housework.
"What do you think of the names Christine, or Crystal, or Christopher, or Christman,or ...."
"Hey, wait. What are you talking about?" Harper asked.
"Well, I went to the doctor the other day. Today he called and said that you may have given me a Christmas present that you didn't know about."
"You mean.?"
"Yes, I mean that I'm going to have a baby."
"Here, Sweetheart, let me get you to a chair."
"Stop joking, Silly! Are you sorry?"
"You know I'm not sorry, we planned to have babies sooner or later"
"I know, but this is sooner!"
"Will you promise me a girl as sweet as you?"
"No! I'm going to have a boy as handsome as you!"
"I think you've got a great idea about the name."
"We can call him Chris and nobody will know we are thinking about that wild Christmas night!"
"Does this mean that we can't..."
"No, of course not, Silly. Not for months."
We were sorry to hear about your cold. I hope you are all over it by now. I know you must be anxious for spring to come. Harper tells me that the springtime there is the nicest time of the year. I hope that I can experience that someday.
I haven't felt too well lately either, only my trouble is in the mornings! Yes, We are going to have a baby. You will be a grandmother in late September. Harper and I are both happy about it. Harper is doing real well in his job. He was a carpenter for a year and Mr. Arnold told him he had done very well in that so he is now learning the electrical end. They are also having him take more classes in mathematics and accounting. He studies almost every night.
We enjoy reading your letters. We were surprised to hear that your roomer has a child. I hope that doesn't make too much trouble for you.
Harper sends his love with mine,
Judi
When the opportunity came, Mary shared that letter with Dorothy. In the six months that she had been working, Dorothy had developed friends, both among the people that she worked with and customers whom she had served. Very few nights found Dorothy at home, either she was working or out with friends. The closeness that had developed between them was being lost just from lack of contact. At first, Dorothy told Mary about her job and the people she met. It was probably Mary's obvious disapproval that stopped that and John Boy became almost their only common interest.
He was almost fourteen months old and his evening feeding and care had become Mary's responsibility completely. Sometimes as she was giving him his bath she let her mind take her back twenty years and it was Harper sitting there in the little tub. In looks, it could have been! Gradually, Mary slipped into the habit of calling him "Boy".
The car and trailer were parked back at the launch ramp. The lake was a little choppy as they made their way toward their favorite cove.
"We may not do much skiing today," Judi said.
"You shouldn't be doing any skiing," Alice told her.
"Don't worry Mom, she won't be able to get into her bathing suit."
"I can ski in my shorts and shirt," Judi bragged. "Daddy can bring me in close and I'll ski right up on the beach!"
"That would be some sight." Harper said. "A seven months pregnant lady on water skis."
"I think Harper and I are going to do a little fishing, you gals can sit and talk about babies. That's about all you talk about anyway."
"Now don't you try to pretend you aren't interested in this, James Carmody, You're just as happy to be having a grandchild as I am. You're already talking about having a fishing partner."
"I hope I have better luck with him than I have with you, Harper," Jim teased. "You spend so much time studying, you should take a break now and then."
"Hey, Dad, I'm on one now."
Jim and Harper went on up the lake after setting up the camp for the women. There had been too few times for this kind of companionship to suit Jim. He wanted to help Harper grasp some elements of the construction business that might take years to absorb by himself, just as it had the young Jim Carmody. There were also things to avoid, things that might limit him in his career, as Jim's had been limited. Not that Jim was ashamed of being a foreman, he just thought that he could help Harper get ready for a more important position with some construction company.
Harper had been receptive right from the start. Jim had recounted stories of jobs gone wrong, project successes or failures, as personal experiences in a way the made them seem very real to Harper. In the same way, Jim led him to understand the importance of people to the development of his career. "Your men can make you or break you," he said. "You've got to treat them right."
On a different occasion, Jim had told of men he had known whose lack of regard for the success of the manager or even the company for whom they worked had, in the long run, worked to their detriment.
Today was not much different, Jim was interested in the things that Harper was learning and really pleased at his progress. "There's some new stuff going to be done on a job back in Kansas City," Harper told him. "Mr. Arnold said he might send me back there to learn about it, when it gets going."
W.G. had called Jim in and had discussed that with him a week ago but Jim hadn't even told Alice about it. It was a short trip from Alice to Judi to Harper and Jim didn't want to be the one who leaked that information before a final decision had been made. Anyway it should be W.G. who told Harper.
Jim felt the wind getting stronger and looked up the lake. Dark clouds were gathering, giving that threatening look to the sky that told him that it was time to head back. They were at the cove shortly and found that the girls had lunch out and ready.
"We'd better eat quick and run fast," Jim said. "I know what this lake can do. I've seen waves out there that could swamp a bigger boat than this!"
It didn't take long to wolf down part of the lunch. Each of them felt Jim's urgency and what wasn't quickly eaten was packed and stored in the boat along with the other gear that they had brought. "Be sure that everything is lashed down well," Jim said. "It might be a rough trip."
Harper wondered if Jim wasn't going a little too far when he insisted that they put on the life jackets and lace up the ties carefully before they even left the little cove. No sooner had they cleared the point of land that had been protecting them from the waves, than he understood. He had no idea that the water here in this lake could be that rough. "It's like the ocean," he thought. Then changed his mind as he saw the closeness to the tops of the waves. "There's almost no pattern, these seem to come from all directions at once."
Even on their trip up the lake when it had been a little choppy, they had sped along "on the step", leaving behind a broad white wake. Now, as Harper looked over the stern, he could barely see the disturbance from the propeller. When they had first left the shelter of the cove they had felt the boat drop into a trough between two waves. As they hit the other side the impact shook every thing in the boat. Jim had to slow the boat down to a point where it seemed that they were hardly moving in the water to prevent the violent banging of the bow against the waves.
"It's a good thing we aren't trying to go up the lake," Jim had to shout to be heard over the noise of the wind. "We wouldn't be making any progress at all."
"Are we all right?" Alice asked her husband. "Should we try to go back into the cove?"
"No. We'll be all right."
If being "all right" excluded being wet from the spray that was blowing into the boat like a heavy rain, as well as being seasick from the violent and completely unpredictable motion of the boat, he could have been correct. Jim's constant alertness and careful handling of the boat and his refusal to try to increase the speed got them safely to the launch ramp, but not before the cold rain joined the spray and drenched them thoroughly. The trip which they usually made in twenty minutes, took over two hours.
Alice got Judi into the car and with the heater going full blast tried to get her warmed and dried out while Jim and Harper got the boat on the trailer. They were still wet and miserable when they got to the Carmody house.
"Are you all right, Honey?" Harper asked as they got into the house.
"Still a little woozy. I think I'll lay down for a bit."
"First, I'm going to draw you a warm tub," Alice told her. "You're going to sit in it till you get warmed up. Tomorrow, I'll take you to see your doctor."
Judi's doctor had seen her the next morning. The cold that she had caught and the seasickness had worried him enough to put her to bed and tell her to stay there. Every thing was ok with the baby he said but she had to stay quiet. Judi went to bed at the Carmody's where Alice could be with her. It was five weeks later that she got his ok to move back to her apartment and be up and around. The baby was due in three weeks and every thing was ready, just in case he decided to come early. Alice had seen to that.
Harper did very well for his first experience, which is to say that he didn't panic. He was scared when Judi shook him awake, "Honey, I think it's starting," she said. But he was able to function, getting towels for her, calling the doctor, timing the pains and when the time came, getting her and the prepared bag into the truck. It was her pain and his feeling of helplessness, his sympathy for someone so dear to him, that nearly unnerved him. It was an effort to keep the tears from turning into real crying. But, he made it. He was a good pacer in the father's waiting room at the hospital, hardly looking at their magazines.
A nurse brought him the word. "Mr. Dodson, it's over. Mother and baby are both doing fine. You've got a baby girl."
An exhausted Judi was waiting for him as he came into her room. It seemed like minutes passed before he was able to add to his whispered, "I love you."
Judi had her baby yesterday. Her name is Crystal. They asked us for a middle name but we didn't want her to have one. She is six pounds and six ounces and real pretty but she doesn't have much hair yet.
I will send you a picture when we get her home and I can take some.
Judi will come home day after tomorrow. She had a real hard time, I sure felt sorry for her.
Hope all is ok with you.
Love, Harper
Crys was six months old when Harper was sent to Kansas City to look at the new procedures that Mr. Arnold wanted him to be familiar with. The cost savings that were expected could make their bidding more competitive or leave more profit in a job. If he could finish his review in time he could stop by and see his mother on the way home. Judi wanted him to call and let his mother know that he was coming but since his visit was contingent on finishing in time, Harper decided that he would call from Kansas City, after he knew that he would be able to make it. That was a good plan except that it didn't work.
Harper did a thorough job of reviewing both the procedures and the equipment involved. He could readily see the advantages if it were to be used in his company's work. He spent one day doing the work himself, using their tools and procedures, so that he could be certain that he was right in his recommendation to Mr. Arnold.
Harper didn't deliberately walk in to his old home unannounced. His call from Kansas City went unanswered, then the timing of the bus departure prevented him from trying again. He got off the bus in the late evening, got a room in the Hotel, then walked to his old home. He knocked on the door and waited, hearing the movement inside the house. When Mary opened the door she was so surprised that she stood in amazement.
"Hi Mom, aren't you going to ask me in?"
"Boy! Oh, come in, come in."
Harper had learned to be less reserved in his signs of affection than he was as a younger boy. His embrace of his mother was as enthusiastic as any she had ever gotten.
"What brings you here? Is Judy ok, the baby?"
"Yes, Judi sends her love. Crys is fine and I'm on the tail end of a business trip. I'm only here for tonight and tomorrow, I'll be going back home on Sunday."
"Sit down, sit down. It's so good to see you!"
Noises from the other room got his attention. "Your roomer, is she here," he asked quietly.
"No, she works nights, I take care of her baby boy."
"Every night?"
Involuntarily Mary sighed, "Almost. Sometimes on weekends I don't"
"Is your roomer the same one? The one with the baby?"
"Yes, she's the same."
"I see."
Mary didn't elaborate, "No you don't see," she thought. "But it looks like you will before long."
More noise from the other room demanded investigation. Mary brought John Boy out to the living room. Freed from his playpen, he wanted down to explore.
"How old is he?" Harper asked as Boy attacked the articles on the coffee table.
"He was two last month."
"Have you had him here all the time? We thought he was younger."
"Yes, all the time"
One of the articles that Boy was attacking was a framed picture. Harper rescued it from the floor before Boy could step on it. It was a picture of Boy with a woman. Mary watched him as he looked at it. She could see the moment of recognition, the puzzled look on his face. He looked again at the baby, then the picture, then slowly raised his eyes to meet Mary's.
"Isn't this Dorothy Parker?"
"Yes."
"Isn't this this baby?"
"Yes."
"She's your roomer."
"Yes."
Mary could almost follow his journey back through time for two years, then another nine months just by watching his face change. The questioning look disappeared and was replaced by dismay. "Oh, my God!" he whispered as the pieces of this puzzle fell together, creating in his mind a picture so unwelcome that he searched for a way to reject it.
"Is she married?"
"No."
"Mama! Will you stop these yes and no answers and tell me how all this came about! Who is the father?"
"How can you sit there and ask who the father is? You know who the father is! Look at that boy! Look at him! That's YOU when you were that age."
Her rising voice frightened Boy and he started to cry. Mary picked him up and held him. Harper was quiet, thinking of Mary's presence at the wedding with this knowledge in her mind all the time, measuring the impact on his relationship with Judi and the Carmody's, still searching for some way to deny what he was beginning to accept as the truth.
"Does Dorothy say it was me?"
"You were the only one."
Harper looked back at that last year of high school. It was true, neither he nor Dorothy had dated anyone else.
"She said it was after the Senior Prom."
Sensing the final acceptance, Mary began with Dorothy's first visit and told him all that had happened.
"She didn't want to tell you," Mary said in answer to one of his questions. "Neither of you had wanted to be married."
The telling was interrupted to put Boy to bed and, for the first time, Harper asked what he had been named.
"John Boy Dodson. Dorothy calls him John Boy. I just call him Boy."
"You must have had something to do with the middle name."
"No, as a matter of fact, I had nothing to do with it."
Harper left for his hotel room before it was time for Dorothy to come home, with Mary insisting that he come for breakfast in the morning. Reluctantly he agreed, he would have to meet Dorothy sometime. The only way out of that would be to leave town, a tempting thought.
Sleep didn't come quickly to either Mary or Harper. To Mary it was a relief to be free of a secret burden but nothing had been changed that would affect her life. Harper didn't know how it might affect him, or what he might have to do about it, if anything. He finally slept and it was not until the first few moments of morning waking that the thought of what it had done to Dorothy came into his mind.
Dorothy woke to the sound of voices in the house, not just Mary talking to Boy, she heard a man's voice. She had come in late last night and wanted to sleep in, knowing that on Saturday Mary was there to take care of Boy. She lay for a time but with sleep not coming back and the voices continuing, she decided to give up and get up for breakfast. She took a little more care than usual in how she looked, put on the good robe and went to the kitchen. They were there, Mary and Harper. Boy was in his high chair. Harper's appearance was a surprise to her, but not a shock. She knew that he could come some time but she expected some warning. She had even wondered whether she could find a way to remove herself and John Boy during such a visit, but now he was here.
"Well, Harper! Hello."
"Hello Dorothy, how are you?"
"Good morning, Mary, Good morning, John Boy," she said, giving the baby a kiss.
"It's sure a surprise to see you, Harper."
"I got quite a surprise,too!"
Dorothy looked inquiringly at Mary who said, "We had a long talk last night. Boy showed him your picture."
"Well, Harper, What do you think of your son?"
"He's a fine looking boy, Dorothy."
"He looks like you."
For Harper that may have seemed the longest day of his life. He was anxious to get back on the plane and head for home, as if that would make the problem go away. John Boy was on his good behavior, and except for the time of his nap in the afternoon was an ever present reminder of an unresolved problem. There was no escape for Harper, he was a participant in the care of the boy, watching the feeding and the dressing, and on the insistence of both women, holding him. On one occasion, when Mary was changing diapers, he and Dorothy were alone.
"Your Mother has been wonderful to me, Harper. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't taken me in. Did she tell you that my father threw me out?"
"No, she didn't. I'm sorry, Dorothy. I'm sorry about every thing."
"I wouldn't blame your mother for kicking me out now, I'm leaving so much of his care to her, I know it's not fair, but I get so lonesome for some one to have fun with. I've got to work tonight, and she'll have the care of him."
Harper hardly knew how to respond and in his hesitation, Dorothy continued, "I hope that this won't make any trouble for you with your wife. I asked Mary not to tell anybody about John Boy, but she thought it best to tell you that there was a child here. I don't see any reason to tell anyone any more than that.
"I can't believe Mom being at our wedding and not telling about a baby in this house. He was six months old then."
"She said she could hardly keep from showing his picture. She had it in her purse all the time. She's his grandmother!"
That fact finally hit Harper. Until Dorothy mentioned that, he had considered that Mary was just taking care of this child for a needy roomer. In accepting the truth of his fatherhood, he had overlooked the blood tie to Mary.
Harper told Dorothy goodbye as she left for work, then spent the rest of the evening with his mother and John Boy. As the evening went on, Harper's perception of Boy changed. In addition to being an unfortunate accident he became a personality. For the first time, he looked at Boy and saw his son.
Harper was in a world of his own on the flight home. His mind jumped from the past to the future, barely aware of the present. Unanswerable questions filled his mind, "What if this had been different ... or that?" There was one that kept coming back. "What if Dorothy had been welcome at her own home instead of with Mary Dodson? What would my reaction be, or would I have ever known about him?"
The questions relating to the future were just as unanswerable and a lot more relevant, the past was unchangeable, he might be able to influence the future. By the time he reached home he had established two absolutes. First, nothing should be allowed to damage his marriage. Judi was too important to him. Second, no word of Boy being his son should ever reach Judi or the Carmodys.
Within the limitation of those two absolutes, Harper had a desire, he would hope to know that his son had a chance for a decent life. Without even being aware of it, Harper had committed himself to an irreversible involvement.
The approach to the Las Vegas airport gave him a chance to identify their apartment building where Judi and Crys were waiting for him. The present came into the forefront of his mind, the past and the future receded, but not very far.
This has been the most wonderful summer. Harper and I have enjoyed Crystal so much. Thank you for the sweet birthday card you sent her. As you can see from this picture, she is getting some hair. We don't have to scotch tape the hair bow on any more, ha, ha.
Harper has been complimented on installing the procedures that he brought back from Kansas City. They think that it will make good money for the company. I don't understand it but Daddy says it's true. He is still working hard and learning to be an electrician. Also going to school.
Crys is going to have a brother or a sister, Harper and I can't decide which we want this one to be, I think we will take what comes along, don't you? I think it will happen in late March.
Do you think that you might be able to come out and spend Christmas with us? We are going to move into a larger apartment and you could have a bed in Crys's room. Please consider it, we would love to see you.
Love from us both,
Judi
Christmas was a joyous time for the Carmodys and the Dodsons. Judi and Harper had started decorating their new apartment two weeks before Christmas day. "I don't want Crys to think that Christmas only happens at Grandmother's house," Judi said. This was Harper's third Christmas as Judi's husband, each of the other two had been spent almost completely at the Carmody's house. While Jim and Alice still referred to them as "the kids", and probably always would, they had each matured and were developing as a separate family unit. Mary Dodson arrived on Sunday afternoon and would stay through Christmas day, which was Wednesday. Judi and Crys were with Harper as they met Mary at the airport.
"Oh, Judi, I'm so glad to be here at Christmas time and I sure wanted to see this girl. May I hold her?"
Crys was transferred to her other grandmother's arms. "We're so glad that you could come, Mother," Judi told her.
"Well, I had a little trouble getting everything arranged," she said. Then looking at Harper, "getting off my job and all."
Harper thought that he understood this as an indirect reference to arrangements about Boy. There was no opportunity to ask her about anything other than a simple question, "Do you still have the roomer with the baby?"
"Yes, they are still there."
When Harper had returned from his trip, he could almost feel the knowledge of his being the father of an illegitimate child showing on his face as he talked to Judi. His failing to mention it was a lie, and he felt guilty about it. "If I loved her less, I wouldn't have to lie," he thought. As the weeks passed, that feeling went away. Now, with an apparently innocent question about the roomer, it was back.
On Monday, Harper worked and Judi entertained Mary all day. That evening after dinner, Mary helped Judi in the kitchen cleanup. Afterward, they sat together and visited until bedtime. Harper found himself wondering if he was going to put his mother back on the airplane without ever hearing one word about Boy.
The only thing different on Tuesday was that Harper didn't work, it was a holiday. At least that's the way it was until Alice called to see if Judi could come help her with a Christmas secret. Mary and Harper could stay and keep Crys, who was taking her nap.
"How is Boy doing?", Harper asked almost as soon as Judi was out the door.
"Would you like to see his picture?"
"Sure I would."
The pictures were produced, several of Boy alone and one showing Mary holding Boy.
"He has grown, hasn't he!"
"Of course, it's been nine months since you were there."
"How is Dorothy?"
"She's about the same. She wasn't too happy about not having me there during Christmas. I didn't have any trouble getting time off from work, it was Dorothy who couldn't get off and the problem was finding someone to take Boy."
"That's too bad. I'm glad you did find someone."
Before Judi returned, the pictures were put away. All went back into Mary's purse except the one of Mary and Boy together. That one Harper kept.
Christmas morning found them all gathered around the tree at the Carmody's, exchanging gifts. Crys was down for her nap by the time dinner was served. Early in the evening, Harper said that it was time to take Mary back to the apartment. She had packing to do for an early morning flight home.
"We,ve sure enjoyed having you here for Christmas," Alice told her. "It's too bad that you live so far away, we could see you more often. I'll bet you'd like to see Harper more often, too."
"That would certainly be nice," Mary replied. "And Judi and Crys, too. And this little one when she comes." Mary patted Judi's bulging waistline.
They were sincere in that thought but none of them expected that it would be happening, or could know the hurt that would come first.
Mary was no longer frightened by the flying and as the plane sped eastward she was quite comfortable, a lot more so than she would have been had she known what was waiting for her. She was approaching another major change in her life.
Dorothy had watched Mary board the plane for Las Vegas, resenting the difficulties that this trip at Christmas time had caused. The care of John boy had been arranged but it only covered the time that she was scheduled to work. That left no time for social activities. There were a couple of men that she had been seeing who would have given her a good time over this holiday period.
Dorothy left John Boy with Mrs. Cook that Sunday evening on her way to work. Mrs. Cook had three other children and would keep him through the nights. "I guess I won't notice one more too much," she had said when Mary had asked her if she could help. Dorothy promised to get him as early in the morning as she could.
Monday night was her night off. Alone in the house, with John Boy already down for the night, she found herself thinking of the Bar and Grill where she worked. "I might as well be working," she thought. "At least there are people around." She had little tolerance for loneliness, it was a miserable evening.
On Tuesday night at work, the thought of another lonely night at home on Christmas night was enough to make her say "Yes" when one of the men asked her to go to a party with him. Wednesday morning, as she picked up John Boy, she told Mrs. Cook that she had to work that night also, and would bring John Boy over to spend the night.
The party started at the bar. From there it moved to one apartment, then another. By three o'clock they were in a town twenty miles away and had lost some of the original crowd and gathered new ones. Both Dorothy and the man she was with had been drinking since early in the evening.
"I want to go home", Dorothy told him.
"Ok, just one more drink."
There was one more and then one more before they left.
Dorothy never got home. The car was found the next morning, upside down in Turkey Creek. Most of the car was out of the water, the creek was only about three feet deep there by the bridge that they had missed. In only three feet of water, both had drowned.
Mary got off the plane on Thursday afternoon, expecting to find Dorothy there to meet her. Going to the phone she called the house, there was no answer. Puzzled, Mary got a taxi to take her home. She had been the house only a few minutes before the phone rang.
"Are you Mrs. Mary Dodson?"
"Yes I am."
"Mrs. Dodson, this is the City Police Department. There's been an accident. Could you come down town, I'd like to send a car for you."
"Well, I guess you'd have to, my car isn't here."
Within a few minutes a black and white police car stopped in her driveway. Two men got out and approached the house. Mary was out the door, prepared to go with them by the time they reached her.
"May we go in first?", the man said. "I'm Chief Johnson and this is Officer Hanley.
When they were inside , Chief Johnson spoke, "Dorothy Parker lives here?"
Mary's heart was racing. What could have happened to Dorothy and was Boy all right? "Yes, she does. What has happened?"
"Is this her drivers license?" He showed Mary Dorothy's license with her picture on it.
"Yes, that is hers. What has happened?"
"The woman carrying this drivers license was killed last night. This other card gives your name as the person to notify in case of accident."
"Oh Lord! No!"
"I'm sorry Mrs. Dodson, are you related?"
"No, not directly. What about the boy, is he all right?"
"She was with an older man, he was killed too."
"A boy, a three year old boy, her boy. Where is he"
"I'm sorry, we don't know anything about a boy."
"I must call." Mary said and rushed to the phone.
Mrs. Cook answered on the first ring. "Is John Boy there?" Mary asked.
"Yes, he's here and he's ok. Oh, Mrs. Dodson, I've been hearing on the radio about Dorothy, I'm so sorry, Now don't you fret about John Boy, He'll be all right here with my three till you get yourself settled down and things taken care of. If there is anything I can do you just call, you hear?"
Mary went with Chief Johnson. It was sad to look at the bruised features of this girl who had lived with her for over three years and whom she had grown to love. "Yes," she said to the Chief, "That is Dorothy Parker."
The next few days were difficult for Mary Dodson. The contact with Mr. Parker was made by Chief Johnson, after having the Police in the City find his address. He gave instructions for the burial through the local mortuary. Mary was surprised to see him when the small memorial service was held, sitting alone in the back of the room. He disappeared as the service ended before she had a chance to speak to him.
Not until the frst shock of Dorothy's death was gone and the memorial service and burial over, did Mary have time to consider her future. "Here I am a forty one year old single grandmother," she thought, "With a three year old child to care for." Mary had had eighteen years of financial struggle to get the first "Boy" raised and through high school. The first three years of raising the second "Boy" had been hard enough, even being the "fill-in" mother while Dorothy was away. Mrs. Cook was reluctant to provide continuing day care for Boy while Mary returned to her job, but agreed to take him for a while. Mary was to try to find someone else who could provide a more permanent arrangement. Mary insisted the she accept payment. Boy and Mary, alone in the house each night and all the weekend. "Seems like old times, Boy," she said to him as she bathed him.
It was so nice being with you at Christmas time, I wouldn't have missed it for anything, thank you so much for having me there. I enjoyed spending Christmas day with Jim and Alice too. They are such a gracious couple. I will write them a note soon. Your Crys is certainly a pretty little girl, I could see a lot of her mother in her!
I had bad news waiting for me when I arrived home. My roomer had been killed in an auto accident on Christmas night. It was a very sad thing, her with no family. I had a few busy days getting things arranged and I have her child here in my care. I don't know what long term arrangement will be made but for now I am going to take care of him. His name is John and I have grown quite fond of him. Thank you both for a lovely Christmas holiday.
Love to you both,
Mother
"I don't think she has any business taking on a baby to raise at her age, with no husband and having to work to support herself. And it IS some of my business when you want to send our money to support a stranger's baby."
"I want to help my mother at a time when she needs it," Harper replied, trying unsuccessfully to limit the discussion.
After two days had passed and neither of their positions had changed, Jim Carmody felt that he had something to offer. Using different words he said the same thing that Judi had said, questioning Mary's judgment in undertaking a responsibility that would continue for years.
Harper used the only rebuttal that was open to him, "She has grown to love this child, caring for him since he was born. I can understand why she is not willing to see him dumped into some institution or some foster home with other orphans."
Harper wrote the check, and slept alone for a week.
Delivery of Judi's second child may have been a little easier on Judi than the first had been, it was definitely easier on Harper. There had been no argument over the choice of a name for the new baby, Judi had said, "If this baby is a boy I will name him James." Harper noticed the lack of discussion, the use of the singular personal pronoun, and the positive tone in which she made the statement. He knew that the argument about the money to his mother was ended but without understanding or acceptance by Judi. This was Judi's retaliation for his unilateral decision, her turn.
Jim Carmody inadvertently started a chain of events that would create a real crisis in all their lives. Judi and Harper were at the Carmody's. Alice was feeding Crys in the high chair and Little Jim, now three months old, was nursing. Jim and Harper were seated there at the kitchen table, waiting for that operation to be over so dinner could be enjoyed in peace and quiet.
"Son, you ought to be getting some life insurance. You've got two kids and a wife to think about, and some policies can help you prepare for the kids' education, as well as protect the family if something happens to you."
Jim suggested that his agent could help and provided the name and phone number. Within a few days, an evening appointment had been held and a program offered. In making the application, they were told, they would need a birth certificate for Harper and if the policy were to include Judi, hers would be required also. That was the second link in the chain. Judi started the request for a copy of the birth certificate for Harper. Her first call was to Mary.
"Hello, Mother, this is Judi."
"Well Judi, how good to hear your voice. Is anything wrong?"
"No, Mother, nothing's wrong I just need some information and I wanted to talk to you. How are you making out with John?"
"It's going all right, he's a good boy. I appreciate the help you and Harper give."
"You're welcome, Mother. Do you have a copy of Harper's birth certificate?"
The lie came almost without thought, "No, I've never had that."
"We need it for an insurance policy. We ought to have it anyway."
"I guess you'd have to get it at the county court house, honey."
Another link was forged into that chain. Mary Dodson used a different expression, "The fat's in the fire," she told Boy, or John, as she was trying to learn to call him. She knew what Harper's birth certificate would say to Judi and her parents. She had a copy of it in a drawer. If the Carmodys were to hold Harper's birth against her, she could understand. "I hope they don't hold it against your daddy!" she told little Boy Dodson.
Actually, it took two other phone calls for Judi to get to the right department at the State capital for that information. There, a very helpful lady looked for a record of the birth of Harper Boy Dodson. There was none.
"But there has to be," Judi said. "Can you please look again?"
Looking again meant a different kind of search. "I'll try. Can you call me tomorrow?" When Judi called the next day she got a surprise.
"Yes, I found something." the lady said. "I found two births recorded as Boy Dodson. There is no Harper."
"Well can you send me a certificate?"
"Yes, which one do you want? One was born on February 15, 1961 and the other on August 5, 1942."
"Well, the Boy Dodson I want was born in Joplin"
. "Both these births were in Joplin", the lady said.
Judi hesitated, 1942 was the right date, but what's this about 1961, just three years ago? "I think you had better send them both," she said.
After discussion of the fee and how long it might take, Judi hung up the phone. The chain was complete. Judi didn't know what to make of the two "Boy Dodsons" that she had learned about, and nobody named Harper. She considered several explanations, none of which she liked. She tried to stop thinking about it until the certificates came but she couldn't. She told Harper that the certificate had been ordered and said nothing more about the conversation with the lady from the state.
Harper knew that something was wrong, he just didn't know what. His questions to her got the obviously deceptive answer, "Nothing, I'm just not feeling too well." Judi's anger was like a smoldering fire, growing as the days went by, guessing what she would see when the birth certificates came but waiting for proof before confronting Harper with a demand for explanation. It was impossible for her to conceal her coolness. That smoldering fire burst into flame when Harper disclaimed knowledge of Dorothy's pregnancy when he first met Judi.
"You liar! You lying Bastard! You knew! You knew all the time!" Judi's fury drove her voice to a near-scream. This was the apex, the peak of the quarrel that had been going on for two days. In those few shouted words was contained the heart of Judi's real complaint. Not that she liked what she had seen in the two birth certificates, not at all. She had first shown Harper the one for the first Boy. Mother's name, Mary Overton. Father's name, William Dodson. Baby's name, boy. Sex, blank!
"That's the first I ever knew that." Harper said. "Looks like my mother never did get married."
Next Judi showed him the record for the boy born in 1961. Mother's name, Dorothy Parker. Father's name, Harper Dodson. Baby's name, boy. Sex, boy.
"Does the name Dorothy Parker ring any bells?" she asked bitterly.
Harper's claim that he knew nothing of Dorothy's pregnancy until his visit to Joplin and home was repeated over and over. She didn't believe him. The timing of his departure from home, his determination to help Mary in her desire to keep the child, the deception that Mary had participated in, not only about John's parentage but even his age and his name, were too much.
"How could I believe any thing you say?" Judi demanded. His repeated efforts to justify any of his actions by his fear of losing her, failed completely. Bringing her finally to the point of deliberately calling him a Bastard. From that point on she was cold to Harper, bitter at the deception, and doubtful of their future. The insurance policy was forgotten, and as the days passed, she saw no hope of anything getting better between them.
One evening when Harper got home from work, he found himself alone. Judi, Crystal and little Jim were gone. Her closet was empty, all the children's things were gone, as he looked around the realization came to him, this was a planned, deliberate moving out, it wasn't just an absence to let anger cool off.
Harper never gave up hoping that Judi would come back. He had gone to the Carmody's house the night that he had found her gone. There he was met at the door by Jim. The reception was cool and he was refused entry. Later he had been able to talk to Jim and Alice. Jim was not sympathetic at all. Alice had taken the opportunity to remind him of what he had told her the first time she had seen him. "'I'll not hurt her,'you said."
After four months of living alone, Harper hadn't stopped trying to get Judi to come back, but she wouldn't even talk about it. He then asked Mary to sell her house and move to Las Vegas. It would eliminate the cost of the day care for John, and Mary could keep house in the apartment. If Judi came back they would work out something. Another two months passed before Mary got to Las Vegas with John Boy Dodson and a minimum amount of her possessions. John was almost four years old. Christmas was just around the corner.
Harper took presents to Crys and Little Jim. Judi met him at the door and asked him if he wanted to see the children. Going in, he found Crys running to be picked up. "Hi, Sweetheart," He said, holding her high. He got a "Hi" back which was a substantial part of her vocabulary. The hug that came with it was worth the trip.
To Judi, Harper said, "My mother came last week, she will stay with me until you decide to come back. You know I want you to."
"What about John?"
"He's there too."
Harper got no indication of what Judi's reaction to Mary's presence might be. After holding Little Jim for a few minutes, Harper said goodbye and left. Jim and Alice had stayed out of sight all the time that he was there.
Harper was in the third year of his training program with Mr. Arnold. His performance in the carpentry and the electrical parts of the training program had impressed the owner very much. "I think that we've got a young man that we can build on," he told the foremen, Carmody and Cruz. He had heard that Harper had some kind of family problem and was watching to see if it affected his work in any way. So far he had no indication that it had. Harper saw Jim frequently in the office or equipment yard, but little conversation came out of that. Jim's response, if asked about Judi or the children, was usually,"They're ok." Harper never had been assigned to one of Jim's jobs. Mr. Arnold had set the training program up to avoid that.
It was nearly Easter when Harper had the accident. He was asked by his foreman, Bill Cruz, to return to a building to correct a problem in some drain lines in a shallow ditch near the foundation of a building. The plumbing crew had moved on to another job the week before. Now, there was a crew of carpenters working on the second floor and the roof structure. Harper was in the ditch, working on the drain line when a fork lift machine operating nearby overturned, dropping a heavy load of lumber directly on him. The ambulance had been there waiting for almost twenty minutes before they got the machine out of the way and the lumber moved off of him. He was unconscious and it was obvious that he was badly hurt. One of the paramedics was heard to say, "That ditch saved him from being crushed absolutely flat."
Jim Carmody had heard about the accident on the company radio. "Who was hurt?" he demanded of the dispatcher.
"Dodson."
"How bad?"
"Bad!"
"Has anybody called his home?"
"Not yet, just getting his home phone now."
"Don't do it. I know his mother, let me do it."
"You got it."
Jim did have it. He was already driving as he got the information. "Where did they take him?"
"General."
"Roger, out"
Mary answered the door, it was Jim. "Hello, Jim." she said, tentatively, not knowing what to expect.
"Hello Mary, I'm here because Harper has been hurt. I don't know how badly but I can take you to the hospital if you like."
"Oh yes, if you would. Is he.."
"I don't know any more than that some lumber fell on him."
"I'll have to take John."
"Of course. May I use your phone?"
"Yes, it's right there."
Jim called Judi and told her what had happened. She wanted to know where he was so that she could go. Alice kept the children and Judi drove to the hospital. Jim and Mary were there when she came in to the emergency room.
"He is unconscious, several broken bones, and in serious condition", Jim told her. That was the report that Jim had gotten for Mary when they first came in, he passed it on to Judi as she entered.
"Hello, Mother Dodson."
"Hello, Judi, I hope Harper is ..."
"I know, I've been saying a prayer for him."
Jim left, explaining that he had to check in with the office by radio and that he would return in a few minutes. While he was gone Judi and Mary sat quietly, John by Mary's side.
"Is Daddy going to be all right?"
Mary put her arm around him, "We think so." Mary watched as Judi looked at John Boy. It was the first time that she had seen him. She studied him for a long time, then looked at Mary.
"He is Harper."
"Yes, How about your Jim, Does he have Harper's features?"
"I think so, he's changing so fast, it's hard to tell."
"You don't believe Harper, do you?"
"No."
"Would you believe me?"
"I don't know."
Jim came back in and asked if there had been any new information. When he was told "No" he tried to find if there had been any change. In a few minutes a doctor saw them for the first time. "We are taking him to surgery," he said. There is pressure of some kind from the head injury. We have a neurosurgeon on his way in to do an exploratory examination. We have temporarily splinted the leg and the arm. The breaks were bad, there will be more work required there. There are broken ribs, but we don't think his lungs are damaged. There may be other problems that we haven't seen yet, but we think that the head injury is the most critical. We want to get that under control before we ....do any thing else." After assuring them that there would be hours of waiting before they could expect any further information, he left them.
Jim broke the long silence that followed, "Mary, you don't have transportation. Would you like to wait for a while at our house? We could have something to eat, it is probably going to be a long evening."
Mary looked at Judi, looking for some sign of approval or disapproval. Judi, seeing the questioning look said, "I think you should, Mother."
"Thank you, yes I would like that"
Alice greeted Mary with sympathy and ask Jim for information about Harper. After giving her a summary of Harper's condition, he called the hospital again, asking for the latest information and leaving the phone number where they would be waiting for any news.
"Jim, I certainly appreciate your taking charge like this. I don't know how I could manage."
Looking at Judi, Jim replied, "Well, he means something to us too, you know."
Some of the restraint that they had all felt seemed to leave as they sat in the Carmody living room, John still staying close to Mary's side. "May I tell you a story?" Mary asked, addressing the question to Alice.
After being assured that they would listen, she asked, "Do you have a place that John could play?"
"He can play in the yard with Crys." Judi suggested.
When that was arranged, Mary started. "I was in love with Bill Dodson. We went to school together, to church together, and to parties together. He loved me, loved me so much that when I said no, he accepted that. We kissed and caressed and tempted ourselves to the limit but stopped when I said no. He was called to the Navy in 1941. After his training period he came back for two days before going to his ship. We were together constantly, our promise to each other was that we would wait, and that we would never give ourselves to another. After the war, we would marry. On the last of the two nights that we were together, I couldn't wait, it wasn't him, it was me. We made love, as they say today, and I became pregnant with the boy I named Harper. Bill was assigned to the USS Arizona. I got a letter from him, it left Pearl Harbor just before the Japanese got there. He was, and still is, aboard that ship, there under the water in Pearl Harbor. His letter assured me that he had kept his promise, he hadn't given himself to another. Neither have I."
"I have never told that story to Harper. I only told him that his father died before he was born. Not out of my own sense of shame, but because I didn't want him to carry the hurt of knowing. It would have come out someday I suppose, the birth certificate shows that I was not married, he would have known sooner or later that he was....born out of wedlock."
Mary continued before anyone could comment. "When a young girl named Dorothy Parker came to me in trouble, I became her friend. From my own experience as an unwed mother, I knew that she needed a friend very badly. Neither Harper nor Dorothy should carry the blame alone, I didn't try to place it anywhere. I saw a bit of myself in that girl. I helped her prepare for the birth. I comforted her when her father disowned her. I helped care for the baby. When Harper came down from Kansas City, he saw for the first time that the person I had rented his old room to was Dorothy Parker. He knew for the first time that she had a baby. He knew from the age of the child that he was the father. He had no love for Dorothy, It was I who learned to love Dorothy, with all her faults. He gave nothing till Dorothy died, then when he knew that I needed help to care for his child, he gave his help to me. He would have tried to keep the secret forever to keep from hurting you, Judi."
There was silence for a moment as Mary finished. Then Alice broke the spell that Mary's story had cast on them all.
"Thank you, Mary, for telling us that"
Judi got up and sat beside Mary, where John had been. Taking Mary's hand in her own she said, "I believe you. I hope Harper is going to be all right, for both our sakes."
Jim cleared his throat and stood up. "I'll go phone the hospital again," he said and left the room.
That was a long night for them all. After getting something to eat, Jim, Judi and Mary went back to the hospital. They sat in a waiting room on the surgical floor, while a team of neurological surgeons tried to relieve the pressure on Harper's brain. "If he survives the head surgery, we think he'll make it," one of the doctors had told them. They hung on to that.
At about nine o'clock Pastor Mel Perkins came to pray with them, a prayer that encompassed more than the injuries to Harper's body, it sought healing for wounds of the mind and spirit, not only for Harper, but for those who loved him. Mel was still there when shortly after midnight, the surgeon came to their waiting room, still dressed in his green surgical gown. They watched as he came down the hall toward the waiting room, their movements halted, their breathing imperceptible, knowing that the waiting was over, not knowing if the news was good or bad.
His smile, as he neared the room, told them. The news was good.
"This is a tough young man," he said. "We found a little wedge of the skull that had been pushed down, causing the coma. That was lifted, the area below cleaned up and checked for further damage. He is going to be all right. He's going to sleep for a while and he won't know you are there, but you'll be able to see him in the ICU before long."
Mary and Judi were in each other's arms the minute that he finished the report. Jim thanked him, but that was superfluous after the tears of relief and joy that the surgeon had seen in the women's eyes. Mel offered a prayer of thanks, told them goodnight, and left.
Mary asked Judi to be the first to see Harper. She came back crying, "He looks so... so hurt." Mary went in then. It was frightening to see. There were bandages everywhere that she could see, an IV, an oxygen tube, a catheter tube leading to a bag on the side of his bed, and his face was horribly bruised. She could understand Judi's tears.
Jim took them back to his house where they found Alice waiting. John had been put to bed long ago.
"Would you like to leave him here, Mary?" Alice asked. "Jim can take you home, then get you in the morning to take you to the hospital."
Harper was vaguely aware of movement nearby. It was an effort to open his eyes. When he did he saw a white uniform and a smiling face under a nurses cap. The memory came back then, the shouts of warning, the crashing of heavy boards against the side of the building and then the crushing blows. Then nothing. He was hurt, this was a hospital, he was alive!
"Hi there, you've been away for a while. What's your name?"
"Harper,... but you know that!"
"I just wanted to see if you did. How do you feel?"
"I don't know."
"There are some people here that would like to see you. How do you feel about that?"
"Ok."
"I'll take your blood pressure first, then they'll come."
Harper closed his eyes again and drifted back into semi-sleep, thoughtlessness, it felt so good. Then he felt the touch of gentle fingers on his cheek . Opening his eyes he looked up into Judi's face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and he could tell that she was trying to speak and couldn't. He moved the one hand that was free and reached for her hand that was on his cheek. "It's all right, Honey. I'm ok."
There was little said, Judi held his hand and squeezed it when she saw the touch of a smile on his battered face. "They won't let me stay long," she whispered, "Mother is outside, she wants to see you, too."
With a promise to return, Judi left and Harper closed his eyes again, reaching for that floating, detached, and pain-free feeling that he had when he first became aware of the nurse standing by his bed. Mary's voice brought him back. "Hello, Son."
When there was no longer need for the constant nursing attention, Harper was moved from the ICU to another room on the surgical floor. Here there was a greater freedom of visitation. He watched the clock, waiting for visiting hours to start, anxious to see Judi again. He tried to put down his fear that when he passed the critical point in his recovery, the pity and concern that had brought her to his side would give way to the anger that she had carried against him for so long. The fear retreated as he heard her voice in the hall, asking directions. Judi approached his bed, leaned down and kissed him, the fear died. He caressed her face with his one moveable hand.
"I love you. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"And I love you", she said. "I didn't know how much until I thought I might lose you." After a few minutes of enjoying just being together, Judi said, "I've brought our children to see you, I'll have to bring them in one at a time." She left his room but was back very quickly, carrying two year old Little Jim. Judi held him down for Harper's kiss. After a few minutes she asked him to tell Daddy "Bye Bye" and left to get Crystal. There was a big "Hi Daddy" as Judi carried three and a half year old Crys into Harper's room. "Hi Baby, how are you?" That visit was a little longer, then Judi said, " I'll take her out and come back."
When she came back in, Judi leaned down kissed him, there was more than a hint of passion in that kiss. "If you'll have me, I want to come back."
"Have you? Darling I beg you to come back!"
"I want to have another child."
"That sounds like fun, but can you wait till they take this catheter out?"
"Oh! you're impossible. I can't wait. I want this one."
Straightening up she clapped her hands. Harper followed her eyes to the door and saw John Boy walk in.
"Hello Daddy." said his first born son.
Chapter 10
Harper was in the hospital a lot during the first couple of years after his accident and Mary got a job, so neither of them were at home so much. Mary soon felt the need for a place of her own and found a small apartment not too far away. Judy took over the "mothering' that John had looked to his Grandmother for. Soon Judy found herself trying to help John Boy handle the teasing that he got from kids at school because of his name. Judy found sympathy from Mary in that problem.
"I had the same thing with Harper when he was a boy", Mary told her.
Judy called John Boy to her chair one evening when he was about ten years old, she and Harper had thought that the time had come for discussions with John about his real mother.
"I wouldn't want him to get a big surprise later on and resent that we weren't honest with him", Harper had told her.
"John, do you remember when you first came to live with us?"
"Uh huh", John said, "I remember the first time I ever saw you, it was in the hospital after Dad was hurt."
Judy showed him the copy of the birth certificate that had made such an impact on their lives a few years ago. "Someday you will need this birth certificate, John. I want you to know about it and that we have it put away for safe keeping. It shows who your mother and father were and when and where you were born. You remember that your mother was Mary Parker?"
John agreed that he remembered his mother's name but he couldn't remember anything about her. "I remember living with Gramma", John said.
Years later John would try to explain to his fiance about his childhood and his relationship to his father, "I don't think I spent as much time with Dad as I did with Mom. He was studying a lot when he wasn't in the hospital. It seemed like his leg was always in a cast, his arm too, for a while. I don't mean that he wasn't a good father, I thought he was ok, it just seemed that Mom ran the house and us kids, and Dad was getting ready to go back to work. I'll say this for him, he went about it right to get to be important in the construction business. When they finally thought they couldn't do any more to fix his leg so he could walk better, Dad went back to work for W.G. Arnold and made himself the best cost man that W.G. had ever seen. At least that's what W.G. told Mom a few years ago. Now that W.G. is about ready to retire, it looks like Dad may take over the business, if he can get the financing to buy Mr. Arnold out, that is."
Harper's accident brought a nice settlement from the insurance that Arnold Construction carried. That and his increasing salary as his responsibilities with Arnold became greater made it possible to move out the apartment and into a pleasant house with a pool in the back yard. One of the first things Judy did was teach each of the kids to swim.
It was Judy who organized the Saturday trips to Lake Mead, Harper frequently worked Saturdays, and Sundays were reserved for Church. When Harper couldn't go it was Papa and Mama Carmody, Judy, John, Crys and Little Jim in Mr. Carmody's 18 foot outboard. John was a quick learner on water skis and soon he and Crys were skiing together with Judy watching from the boat. It wasn't easy to get them to give Judy a turn but when they did she showed them grace and skill they were never able to match.
Crys and John were real close, not that they left Jim out of things deliberately, they just shared more things with each other. They almost always walked home together after school, even though it sometimes meant waiting a few minutes for the other to be finished.
One evening both had after-school activities and Crys didn't wait for John but started walking home alone. It was just turning dark as John left school a few minutes later. Their way home from their school lead them past a park area, planted with shrubs and flowers. As John approached it this evening he heard a girl's muffled cries and some scuffling noises coming from behind some of the shrubbery. Looking around for some kind of weapon, he found a small rock along the edge of a flower bed and pulled it loose. Quietly he walked toward the noises and in the dusky light saw a roughly dressed man, his bearded face buried in the face of a struggling girl, obviously in the process of forcing her into sexual intercourse. John held the rock in his hand and swung it as hard as he could, hitting the man behind the ear. The man relaxed and John pulled him away from the girl. He was horrified when he saw it was Crys. She was hysterical and John tried to quiet her. It was a few minutes before she had control enough to listen.
"Run home," John told her, "I'll be along in a minute."
John checked to see if the man was still breathing, and felt a sense of disappointment when he found that he was. Looking at that dirty, bearded, unconscious man, his trousers and underwear down to his knees, John burned with an anger stronger than he had ever before experienced. He thought of the girls that this man probably had raped before and the lives that he could ruin in the future. John considered hitting him again but couldn't make himself do it. Instead John took out his pocket knife and gingerly taking that bearded man's scrotum in his hand, slit it open, cut the connecting chords, removed both of his testicles, and threw them as far as he could.
Running home, John found Crys sobbing in Judy's arms. Judy called the Police and when they came they took Crys to the hospital for treatment. The police found the man still unconscious in the park and called an ambulance to take him to the hospital. The next day an almost apologetic detective came for John Boy.
"The D.A. says you'd be better off if you had killed him, this way he says it was revenge to castrate him, not protecting your sister. I gotta take you in."
There wasn't much about it in the papers, but lots of people knew about it. John ended up with a year in Juvenile hall and a years probation afterward. Crys was really disturbed by the experience, almost flunked her Junior year, but with psychological help and counseling got it back together to finish high school in good shape.
John learned a lot in his year at Junenile Hall. He saw a lot of different kinds of people there, some that he could tell were just going to graduate from there to the pen with maybe a short stop on the outside to kill someone first. Others that he just had to feel sorry for, knowing that they didn't have much of a chance in this world, no home life, no love from their parents. He realized that he was lucky that way, lots of love in his home and he had his share. He took advantage of their program that let him study for a High School Equivalency degree, worked hard on it, and by the time he was out he was qualified to enter college along with Chrys.
John worried about the time that Chrys's attacker would be released. "Dad, what can I do about it if this guy gets out and comes at me with blood in his eye? He only got five years and might get out on parole before that. I don't doubt that he might be a little sore at me."
"I don't know, Son, let me see what I can find out. "Harper went to W.G. Arnold who had been extremely incensed about Chrys's rape as well as stronly disagreeing with John's being sentenced to a year in the Hall. Harper asked him for his advice. "Could we demand to be notified before he is released?" He asked.
"Oh, I'm sure something can be arranged. Let me talk to some people I know."
Harper never knew who Arnold talked to, he was aware that some of Arnold's connections were in political circles and some were with casino people. It was months later that he found on his desk a folded newspaper with short item about a convicted rapist being stabbed to death in the penitentiary.
Harper had always wanted John to be ready to be in the business with him. He had John working on construction jobs in the summer time as soon as he could. John would run errands, clean up after the workmen, generally help and always look and learn. That was a strong point with Harper, look and learn. When he and Judy talked with John and Chrystal about College, Harpers desire was that he could get a business oriented course and also to learn about computers. That, he figured, would be the key to being competitive in the future. Judy's hope was that John and Chrys would be in school together. She wanted Chrys to be on a small campus, preferably in a Christian oriented school. She hoped that time and a feeling of John's protection would gradually dim the memory of Chrys's traumatic experience. They were both happy when John and Chrys selected La Verne University.
If John Boy Dodson had a preset image of how the ideal girl should look and act it would have described Connie Baker. John couldn't believe his good luck when before the first year at La Verne was over Chrys and Connie had decided to be roommates in their second year. Every first date that Crys had for four years was a double date with John along. After she got comfortable with a guy, she would date him without John there, but never if John didn't think that he was ok. She never had anybody push her too hard, maybe because word got around about what John had done to get into the Hall. Once or twice some of the guys tried to ask John about it but he wouldn't talk about it. He didn't talk about the time in Juvenile Hall either, that was past history. He didn't even talk to Connie about that for a long time. Then when he did, he found that Crys had already told her most of it.
He had some real tough competition from several other guys there at La Verne U. and from one of Connie's boy friends from her high school in Santa Barbara. Crys was on his side with her roommate, that helped his cause. They had some great double dates but it wasn't until their senior year that Connie and John were engaged. By this time Crys had a reservoir of boys that were on John's approved list, so he and Connie didn't have his sister along all the time.
Connie's family lived in Santa Barbara and went to the Brethren Church there. La Verne University was founded by the Church of the Brethren, that's how she came to be there. Crys and John were there because it is a quiet little school in a quiet little town and their Mom and Dad thought that it would be best for Crys. John wondered sometimes what his life would have been like if some particular event hadn't happened? Would he have known Connie at all if he hadn't been watching over Crys? Would he have been watching over Crys if she hadn't had that awful experience? Would he have been there if he hadn't spent a year in the Hall, letting Crys catch up with him in school? When he got back to the circumstances of his own birth he quit asking himself unanswerable questions and was just thankful that things had worked out as they had.
John had figured out before he finished at La Verne that he was a load for his father to carry. A load of guilt that Harper never laid down. Judy's acceptance of John, and the love that she had developed for him, must have been like heaping coals of fire on Harper's head. John had missed the significance of his middle name and his Dad's middle name both being "Boy" when they first showed him the birth certificate. It didn't mean too much to him then that his mother and father had different last names. Later on, he began to think about it, he had lots of time for that when he was in the Hall. If his name was "Boy" and his Dad's name was "Boy" maybe Harper's birth certificate looked the same way that his did. When he and Crys were getting ready to go down to La Verne to school he asked Judy about it. Judy said that it was just a coincidence, Grandmother Dodson had always called Harper "Boy", maybe she just liked that as a name.
John spent a lot of time driving back and forth between Las Vegas and Santa Barbara right after graduation. He and Connie were to be married in October, not that he had anything to do with the planning of the wedding. After he asked Connie to marry him his next important role was to appear at the wedding. In the meantime all the important questions of what, when, where, and how to dress, were asked and answered by Connie and her mother. That was all right with John.
Harper had arranged for John to work on one of the Arnold construction jobs and John waited for the opportunity to tell his father of his decision. "Dad", he said one evening, "I know you like the business you're in and have made a real success in it. I know you've always thought that I would come into it and work with you, but it hasn't appealed to me as it has to you and I have to try something else. Thanks for getting me lined up to work this summer but after Connie and I are married I plan to work in Mr. Baker's travel agency. If I'm any good in it he wants to make it a family business and I'll be a part of it."
"Well Son", Harper said, "You don't think I haven't suspected that you were looking in some other direction, do you? Yes, I'd like to see you here, working with me and close to your family and I'm disappointed that you've got other ideas, but not really that surprised".
"As to being good in that business, I don't doubt for a minute that you'll do well if you put your mind to it and I know you can do that. And Son, you know you have my best wishes."
John brought Grandmother Dodson with him on one of those trips to see Connie. As they drove toward Santa Barbara she began to recall the days before John was born. She told John about always calling Harper "Boy" and that when he left home he had been headed for Los Angeles but had stopped in Las Vegas because he met Judy and fell in love with her. "Why was he named 'Boy'", John asked,
"I saw my birth certificate once, 'Boy' was the only given name on it. Mom said my real mother didn't have a name picked out for me."
It took them six hours to reach Santa Barbara plus a little time for eating, and during that time she told John the whole story. How her name had been Mary Overton and still was, legally. She had been in love with Bill Dodson and had, as she put it, gone all the way, with him on the night before he left to go to his assignment to the USS Arizona just before Pearl Harbor. Harper was conceived that night and she never saw Bill again. His letter that told that he had arrived aboard the Arizona, was mailed just before the ship was sunk, the postmark was December 6, 1941.
Mary told how she had struggled to raise the child, had assumed the name Dodson to try to make it easier for him and had ignored the gossip and disapproval that surrounded her for the first years of Harper's life.
"I always called him 'Boy'", Mary said, I called you 'Boy', too, till your mother died and we came to Las Vegas."
John was amazed to learn that it was Judy who had first told Harper that his parents weren't married. "That must have been a blow", John said, "Coming after he was all grown up and married. Maybe it was easier for me, Mom and Dad told me about Dorothy Parker being my mother a long time ago."
That was a stellar week for Mary Dodson, she was sixty one years old and Connie and John treated her like a teen-ager and she loved it. She and John spent the whole week there with Connie and the Bakers. One day they spent swimming and picnicking at Carpinteria State Beach. That was the first time Mary had ever been in the ocean and she loved it. A day at Disneyland, another at the Danish town of Solvang, Connie and John thought that she would have been worn out but Mary stayed right with them. John was really happy to see that Connie was accepting and sharing the special relationship he had with her. That was the beginning of the tie that brought Mary to live with them later.
It was a big wedding. Connie's father didn't put a lid on it and the women really put on a show. There were singers, dressed up ushers, the whole church decorated, five bridesmaids, each with a boyfriend, a flower girl and a ring bearer, borrowed for the occasion because there weren't any little ones in the family at the time. The centerpiece was his beautiful Connie and John could hardly breath as he watched her walk down the aisle. He made a deliberate effort to lock the scene in his mind as he watched Dad Baker, so dignified in his tuxedo, escorting Connie down the aisle, his Mom, Dad, Grandmother and Crys watching from the front row. He felt the pressure of Jim's elbow against his, reassurance from the best man, his little brother. And the moving center of the whole pageant, through the wedding, and through the reception was Connie. The veil couldn't hide her fine features or diminish the glow of love in her eyes as she looked at John, waiting by the altar. The flowing white satin made no pretense of hiding the smooth lines of her body as she moved gracefully on her father's arm. That was the moment when in his enchantment, John could have forgotten even to move out to accept her arm from her father. They made their pledges there before the altar, to be kept forever.
To John the reception was a blur, a bubbling, boiling roomful of his friends and her friends, family friends, wedding party, photographers, coarse jokes, then finally, a getaway car all decorated with ribbons and pompoms and cans and signs. A loyal and understanding little brother led the parade of cars that followed them, and after a noisy trip up State Street, helped John execute the escape plan. Jim and the parade of cars followed John and Connie down a long alley and at the end Jim blocked the exit while John drove on to the Baker's house.
With Dad Baker in the travel business, the honeymoon was pretty nicely arranged. They left San Pedro for Honolulu by ship. The wedding night was spent in their own stateroom, it didn't matter to them that the ship was still tied up at the dock. For five days, as they sailed toward the Hawaiian Islands, the biggest decision was whether to go out for meals or have something sent in. In Honolulu they had a small suite in the old Royal Hawaiian, that elegant old pink landmark where service still felt "Royal". From there they toured the island of Oahu, played on the beach at Waikiki, drove through the pineapple fields and around the island.
One day they went to Pearl Harbor and spent the afternoon. While they were at the USS Arizona monument John repeated to Connie the story that his grandmother had told him. "Just think," he said. "We are standing over the tomb of hundreds of the Arizona's crew, and one of those men down there is my grandfather." Connie squeezed his hand and when he looked there was a tear in her eye. They spent most of the afternoon on the Arizona, reluctant to leave, imagining that young sailor, new to his uniform, trying to find his way around that great battleship, then the bombs falling and the explosions rocking his whole world, the fires engulfing the ship as she sank, carrying much of her crew to their watery grave. It was appropriate, they agreed, that the ship become a monument to them all, that their bodies remain there, that the nation see and remember the risk of weakness.
They found the listings, the roster, the honor roll of the dead who remained on this great ship through her own death and interment. Carefully they searched for his name. William Dodson. It wasn't there. They looked again, looked for other sources for the name "Bill", for initials that could have fit, but found nothing. They left with a strong sense of disappointment. In their minds they had seen themselves bringing this experience to Mary Overton Dodson, sharing with her this feeling of reverence and honor to those hundreds of men but particularly to one. One man who had loved her and whom she had loved, loved so much that she had wanted to give him the gift of her virginity. They would still share the experience with her but without finding his name it wouldn't be the same.
They went back to the Royal Hawaiian for a pleasant dinner, but that was the most somber evening of the trip. In a sense the Arizona visit was the highlight of the stay in Hawaii. Not the most enjoyable, from the pure pleasure viewpoint, but it would stay in their minds for many years to come. The fun they had on the beaches, or snorkeling off the island of Hawaii, or touring the Garden Isle of Kauai and swimming there on what may have been the most beautiful beach of all, these were the fun things, and Connie and John flew back with memories of a honeymoon that would be with them for the rest of their lives.
The little apartment they returned to in Santa Barbara, partially furnished before they left, felt less like home to them than the suite at the Royal Hawaiian had after a week in it. Both Connie and John were anxious to get to Las Vegas to share the excitement of the honeymoon with Crys, the others too but mostly Crys was in their minds as they drove the little two-seater sports car down the coast to Ventura, then turned inland, headed for the Mojave desert where they would pick up Interstate 15 to take them on into Las Vegas. Most of John's life had been spent in Las Vegas, most of Connie's in Santa Barbara, and they marvelled at the variety of the country as they left the green coastal plain of Santa Barbara and Ventura, drove through mountain bordered orange groves around Santa Paula and on into desert forests of Joshua trees on high plains not yet greened by the coming winter rains.
It seems that newlyweds have some special passport into society. It was that way with John and Connie when they got to Las Vegas. Not only Harper and Judy, but Papa and Mama Carmody and Grandmother Dodson, all wanting them to spend the night or a few days. Even at church, the same one where Harper and Judy were married years ago, friends of John's and friends of the family gave them so many invitations to so many different activities or meals that it was embarrassing to keep refusing. The very real excuse of limited time before returning to Santa Barbara was used over and over. They spent most of their time with the Dodson family but one evening with Crys alone. She pulled details out of their recitation of the time they spent in Hawaii, demanding to know everything they saw and how they felt about it. John finally asked her if she was getting material for an article. Connie understood that Crys was just sharing their happiness, letting them relive it. For John, the evening was important to let Crys know that she was going to be a continuing part of their lives. She was the only one they told about not finding Bill Dodson's name on the roster of men left on the Arizona.
Their time with Grandmother Dodson was as they thought it would be, a sentimental remembering, a few controlled tears, real appreciation from her for their doing what in her mind she had done hundreds of times, stood at his grave and mourned. As Connie and John drove back to John's old home to spend the night, they resolved to try to find out why Bill Dodson's name wasn't on that roster.
Harper wished John well in his work with Mr. Baker's travel agency business and asked what he would be doing. John was a little embarrased when he had to tell him that he didn't have the slightest idea. It was true, for the months since graduation John had had one thing on his mind and one thing only. That was his marriage to Connie. Dad Baker had mentioned to him that there was a place for him in the travel agency and John had responded apropriately, but he hadn't let it interfere with his main interest to the point of trying to get involved before he was ready. Mr. Baker was sympathetic to that, in fact he told John that business had a place in life, to support the family, not the other way around. He had conducted his business that way and hoped that John would do the same.
John did. Connie and the kids came first. When he started looking for information about Bill Dodson, the business provided the time and to some extent the means. The business had treated Dad Baker well or maybe it would be better to say that Mr. Baker had treated it well and it rewarded him appropriately. In college John had been taught about a "Customer base". Mr. Baker called that his friends and clients. It amounted to the same thing. His clients became his friends, and he wanted the best for them. Until he was satisfied that John had the same concern for the client's happiness with the service that the company offered, he wouldn't let John do anything on his own. Gradually, as he became confident that John wouldn't hurt any of his friends, John started trying to earn his salary by doing something. It was almost a year before he suggested that anything be done differently, and that related to computerizing some of the records. By that time John knew what he would want to know before he approved any changes and John was ready with the answers and the proof. Dad Baker demanded that it would give his friends better service and that's what it did. The fact that it saved money while doing it was simply "frosting on the cake".
John started asking questions of the U.S.Navy after he got settled into an office routine. How to confirm the existence of a body on the sunken USS Arizona? By phone he went from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles to San Diego to Washington D.C. talked with Ensigns, Lieutenants, Yeomen and Commanders. All of the foregoing in both male and female versions. Most preferred that he write his request rather than phone, presumably so that they could pass it on to some one not as busy as each of the ones that he talked to seemed to be. John finally found the right address in Washington for such a request. Weeks after he had mailed his question he got the answer. It was the same as he had seen on the roster in Pearl Harbor, No William Dodson was listed among the dead on the Arizona.
Connie and John discussed the possibilities that this apparent confirmation of his not being on record as being there presented.
"If he was there and the records don't show it", John said, "There may be nothing that we can do about it. We certainly wouldn't want to tell Grandmother about it, so we might as well forget it.
On the other hand if he wasn't there, where was he? Even more to the point, where IS he? If that turned out to be the case would we really want to know?"
Then Connie asked a difficult question, "John, are you more interested for Grandmother or for yourself?"
At that point John didn't know. He started out thinking that it would be nice to tell Grandmother that they had seen his name on the roster, now he had a real curiosity.
"Well, he was my grandfather and the questions won't seem to go away. Did he die there on the Arizona? Some other place in that war? Or did he survive and just not come back to his sweetheart? I think of these things and I know that it isn't just for Grandmother, it's for me too!"
"Then let's find out," she said. "Can't we write for a copy of his service record?"
"I don't know why we didn't start there", John said.
It took a couple of tries and two more months but they finally got a copy of the service record of William J. Dodson. A letter from the Navy Department was waiting when John got home from the office one evening. Connie hadn't opened it but waited till he got home so that they could see it together. It was his record and they were shocked and disappointed. It seems horrible to think that they could be sorry that he didn't die on the Arizona, but there was that feeling. Something beautiful was being destroyed. Their standing over the sunken ship, mourning Grandmother's faithful lover, had been a vain exercise, a travesty of the honor due those men who had been there, had died there. Again they mourned the loss of Grandmother's faithful lover, he left with the arrival of that service record.
"We must destroy this," John told Connie, "Or hide it so that no one could ever find it while Grandmother is alive, or Dad either for that matter."
Connie barely was able to keep John from burning the letter that night.
Bill Dodson didn't leave the thoughts of John or Connie, he just changed from "Grandmother's faithful lover" to something else. That something else was like a vacuum that demanded to be filled, it was a question in their minds that wouldn't go away. "What kind of person was Bill Dodson? Why didn't he return to Mary Overton as soon as he was free and able to do so?"
Mr. Baker kept John from making an obsession of the questions about Bill Dodson, just as he had not made an obsession about his business, or let John put it above his family life, either. As the months passed John found himself becoming more and more at home there in Santa Barbara. He joined the Brethren Church along with the Bakers, and found a real circle of friends. Impromptu gatherings after church meetings sometimes filled their little apartment to overflowing. That as much as the obvious coming addition to the family encouraged them to get into a house. It took help from both sets of parents but they managed to buy a house, modest, by Santa Barbara standards, but fairly high up the hill with a nice view of the ocean to the south.
"We just don't need any more," John said, rejecting his father's offer for additional help. "Connie's folks say that we should move into their place when they don't need it any longer but I don't know that we would, this is enough, besides we like the low, rambling Spanish look, and the folk's place just doesn't look like it belongs in Santa Barbara!"
Bill Dodson's service record showed that three months after December 7, 1941, the day of the sinking of the Arizona, he had been moved from the hospital at Pearl Harbor to the Oak Knoll Naval Hospital located at Oakland, California. Five months later, on August 5, 1942, he was discharged, released from the hospital and given a medical discharge from the Navy. That date suddenly struck John as familiar, it was his dad's birth date. What irony, to think that he walked out of the hospital and ended his navy service on the very day that his son was being born of a girl he promised to come back to, to be faithful to and to marry. What could have happened? John and Connie asked themselves that question over and over. They invented scenarios that would try to explain his failure to contact Mary. None of them would ever answer the basic question, did he want to contact her? They had answered the original question that started them on the quest. His name wasn't on the roster because he didn't die on the Arizona, but the new question ws even more intriguing.
John restated the question to Connie, "What happened to Bill Dodson to make him abandon Mary? Why didn't he return or contact her in any way?"
"He might be the only one in the world who could answer that question," Connie said, "And we don't even know if he is alive or dead!"
That last statement of hers lingered in John's mind for a couple of months. They were busy living their lives and preparing to be three instead of two. Furnishing and redecorating their house, making it into a home, for that John found that the things he learned at La Verne U. were not as important as what he learned in the summers, watching and helping the construction workers in his father's construction company. In between the baby showers, shopping trips, painting and papering sessions, repairing plumbing and changing light fixtures, John found time to go to the office and do some work for Dad Baker. He also wrote another letter to the Navy Department, explaining that William Dodson was his grandfather, but neglecting to state that his use of the name Dodson was without his grandfather's knowledge. He asked for any help they could give in tracing Dodson after his discharge in 1942.
John didn't hear anything from the Navy until long after the baby was born. Connie and John, remembering the stories of Dorothy Parker and Mary Overton, weren't going to get caught without having a name ready for either a boy or a girl. Connie was offered the test to determine in advance of birth what the sex of the baby was, but she chose not to do that. John felt the same way, old fashioned by admission, liking the suspense and the surprise. They had agreed on them at least a month early. For the boy it was earlier than that. And that's the one they needed. Connie said that if he was a boy they would use names from John's side of the family. John immediately said, "No", to his Dad's name, Harper, and to his own, John.
"That's not what I have in mind", Connie said. "I want to use the middle name that you and your dad have in common, Boy".
With that Connie put the name "Boy" in a whole new light. The smile that John saw on his father's face when she told him the baby's name was William Boy Dodson told him that his Dad must have had the same secret aversion to the name that John had. Every time he heard it, somewhere in the recesses of his mind he heard, like an unwanted echo, the whispered accusation, "Bastard". Connie changed that just by making it a family name.
Connie told Chrys that the only reason that they chose William as his first name was that it would sound good to call him "Billy Boy". "We sure didn't feel like honoring his great grandfather by naming him William", she said. But when Mary said that she thought that "it was nice to use his great grandfather's name", Connie just smiled and gave her a big hug.
The information that finally came from the Navy was not much help. It told that William Dodson had been discharged in Oakland, California but had been paid a transportation allowance to the point of enlistment, Kansas City, Missouri. There was no indication that he had taken the trip. The letter ended with a suggestion that inquiries could be made through the Veteran's Administration. It was signed by Lieutenant N.A.Grogan, in a fine feminine hand.
It took only a few phone calls to find out where in the Veteran's Administration to write with the best chance of locating him. One of the V.A. people reasoned it out for John, if Dodson had a medical discharge from injuries received in the service, he probably was entitled to a pension or disability payments. If he was getting payments of any sort, the Department of Disbursement would know of him. The next trick would be to get them to tell you where they were sending the checks.
John's letter of inquiry brought a response confirming that William J. Dodson, with the correct Naval serial number, was receiving disability payments. They were sorry but they could not give out the address to which those payments were being sent. Ultimately John found the responsible department head and convinced him by phone that the request was justified, that he was related, and that it was a life and death emergency. They were amazed to find that William Dodson was living in Santa Monica just a few miles down the coast from them. By the time they actually got the information Connie was pregnant again.
They didn't put blame on the Navy or the V.A. for the time it took to find Bill Dodson, most of it was their own lack of knowledge of how to go about it, that and the fact that they had their lives to live, their family to get started, a home to establish, and friends to entertain. They had a very full life, family centered, and one that didn't change that much, once the matter of Bill Dodson was finally behind them. They used Lake Cachuma about the way Harper and Judy had used Lake Mead.
"I've become a believer,Dad" John said to hisfather-in-law, "What you said works, family first and the customer or client must be treated as a friend. It's working for us."
They were several weeks with the knowledge that Bill Dodson was in Santa Monica before they found a Saturday that they could use to drive the seventy five miles or so to see if they could find him. They may have deliberately found other things that needed to be done to keep from making that trip! Until they saw him and got confirmation that he deliberately stayed away from Mary, there was a chance that he had some valid reason, maybe one of the many that they had dreamed up for him to try to keep from considering him a real "heel". Connie was about seven months along and John wanted to leave her at home but she would have no part of that, she wanted to be there to see for herself what kind of man he was and hear first hand what he had to say.
John was glad she was along, He never tired of driving along the Coast Highway and it was nice to have her along to share the beauty of the day and help watch the white surf breaking on the long sandy beaches and the rocky points, or the mountains crowding the highway right up to the water's edge. But that gave way to crowded beaches and parking lots and enough cars in just a few miles to fill Santa Barbara several times over. They made their way to the south side of Santa Monica. Back away from the ocean a way they found the address to which the V.A. was mailing the disability checks.
John parked the car, turned off the engine and turned to Connie, they looked at each other for a moment, understanding the reluctance that each of them had to face what might be a disappointing answer to the questions they had lived with so long. John took a deep breath, "Well, we've worked hard to get here, let's do it!"
It was one of several similar houses, all in a row, probably all built at one time by the same builder. Various colors of trim distinguished them one from another, lawns ran from house to house with little landscaping distinction, all in all a respectable, unimposing neighborhood. Only the screen door was closed as they stood on the small stoop and rang the doorbell.
They heard the "ding dong" clearly and then the movements and a strange thumping as someone slowly made his way across the room. As he stood in the doorway they saw the heavy cane and realized what had made the noise. One leg was so crooked it looked as if it would support no weight at all. John asked if he was William Dodson and when he agreed that he was, John told him that his name was Dodson also and that they would like to talk with him. "May we come in?" John asked, and he opened the door for them, motioning toward chairs across from the recliner that was obviously his own.
It was evident even to John, that Bill Dodson didn't keep house here by himself. There was a woman's touch every where. On a table beside his chair was a woman's picture, posed with him in an outdoor setting before some shrubbery. He saw Connie looking at the photo and said, "That's my wife, Olivia. But what brings you here?"
John introduced Connie and told him just a little bit about himself, that they lived in Santa Barbara and had been inquiring for information about him because his grandmother was Mary Overton.
John watched his face as he mentioned Mary's name. There was no flicker of expression, only continuing polite interest as if he were waiting for more explanation. When they had imagined all the different circumstances that might have explained Dodson's action, only one could have fit with the lack of response that they saw. That was amnesia. John asked a couple of questions that he thought might give some indication but the old man's reluctance to answer was clear. "Young man," he said, "Just suppose you stop asking questions and tell me what you're after. And suppose you show me some identification!"
John did that, taking out his wallet, he showed him his driver's license with his picture on it, a couple of credit cards, and a picture of Billy Boy. John also took out one of his business cards and handed it to him. That seemed to satisfy the old man that John wasn't trying to sell him anything.
Starting at the beginning John told the story that his grandmother had told him. This took a little time but Dodson seemed patient and willing to listen. John kept watching for signs of recognition but saw no emotion of any kind until he came to the time that he and Connie had stood on the Arizona Monument and mourned for him. That seemed to touch something in him and his face softened as he looked from John to Connie. John told of his calls to the Navy and finally to the V.A. and his claim to be his grandson.
The old man was quiet for a long time after John stopped talking, John and Connie waiting in the silence as he stared into space, eyes focused on infinity. They wondered where his thoughts were. Finally he turned to John.
"I'm not your grandfather, son," he said slowly, "Though I think that would be something to be proud of. But to put your mind at ease, I'm going to have to tell you something that only my wife knows, and she has known for over forty years. The Navy knows that I am William J. Dodson, so does the Veterans Administration. There's nothing that you or anyone else can do to change that." He looked at Connie and back at John, almost as if expecting an argument.
After a moment he continued, "I was an orphan, a little rough around the edges as a boy. In 1940 I got into some trouble and had a choice of enlistment or jail. I didn't hesitate, I told the judge I'd go into the Navy. That didn't cure me all at once. I was still a rowdy kid and in a real ruckus one night in Pearl City, another sailor died. I was in the brig on the Arizona on Sunday morning December 7th, 1941. General Quarters was sounded as the planes attacked but we took direct hits right away. The abandon ship order came soon after and an officer opened the brig. There was fire everywhere but I made my way toward topside."
"Something happened to me as I walked out of that opened brig door, I told myself I wasn't ever going to go back. As far as the Navy was concerned I'd be back in just as soon as the battle was over or they caught me. I looked around, there were several men lying by a great hole that had been blown through the deck above, all of them were dead. I took the dog tag off the neck of the first man I came to and threw mine down by him. I was one of the lucky ones, I made it to the rail just as a Jap plane strafed the deck. He hit me as I was going over. I remember hitting the water but I never knew how I got picked up.
I woke up in the Pearl Harbor hospital with a shot-up leg that never did heal right and a whopping big headache. That was the next day and the Japs had all gone, but the Arizona was on the bottom. So was the kid I took the dog tag off of, William J. Dodson." He stopped then, looking at Connie then at John, "I'm sorry, son, your Grandfather died in a bomb blast on the Arizona on December 7, 1941. But now you know why his name is not, and can never be, on the roster at the monument."
Connie and John looked at each other, seeing an end to the questions, a welcoming back of Grandmother's faithful lover. There was nothing to be gained by any effort to unmask this imposter, even if it could have been successful after all these years. John stood, nodded to Connie to show that they should leave, "Thanks, Mr.....Whoever you are, for telling us."
They made their goodbyes and left for the drive back up the coast to Santa Barbara. Both were quiet, each lost in his own thoughts, barely seeing the same beaches and mountains that had charmed them so on the way down. They were almost home when Connie turned and looked seriously at John. "What do we tell Grandmother?" she asked.
"Why, nothing to tell her, Hon. It was us who wondered. Grandmother never doubted!"
The afternoon sun warmed the porch where the two old men sat looking out across Santa Monica Bay toward Catalina. They could see the island on this sparkling clear day but the familiar view brought no comment as they sat in comfortable silence. Bill Dodson stirred, picked up the knarled old walking stick and painfully stood, "I'm havin' a beer, Sparks, you want one?"
"Sure". Bill and Sparks had shared many such afternoons before. Sparks, ex Navy Radioman, neighbor for the last twenty years, widower for the last five, and true friend in the recent time of need, sat in the warm sun as Bill clumped his way into the house for the beers.
"Olivia would have brought it before", he thought. "Before she died and left Bill alone in this little house."
Now Bill was alone in the world as far as Sparks knew. He had never heard him talk of relatives. They had talked of the Navy, sports, the weather, the government, the earthquakes, the fires, and many other things but he had never heard Bill mention any kinfolk. It was hard to think of Bill without Olivia, they had seemed so good together. Now Bill would experience the loneliness that had started for Sparks five years ago.
He heard Bill clumping his way back from the kitchen toward the front porch and wondered how he was getting along with keeping up the house. Olivia's funeral had been a week ago, a sad little affair, hardly a dozen people attending the service in the mortuary chapel.
Bill handed him the beer and lowered himself awkwardly into the old chair, favoring the twisted leg.
"Thanks", Sparks said and continued with the question that was in his mind, "Bill, you got any kinfolks?"
Bill sat a moment before replying, "Well, before Livy died I sure as Hell would have said 'No' to that, Sparks."
Sparks sipped his beer and waited. Long spaces between comments was pretty much the way their afternoons went, but finally had to ask, "How come then and not now. You have someone you didn't want her to know about?"
"Nah, that ain't it, I didn't have nobody, It's a kinda long story. Ain't never been told."
"You got kin now though?"
"I guess so, but they don't know. And I ain't about to tell 'em."
Sparks mulled over that for a while. "Well", he said, "I'm sure it's nobody I know."
"No," Bill replied, "You remember about a year ago a young fellow and his wife were down here from Santa Barbara? You saw 'em. They had a little red sports car, stopped here one afternoon."
"Yeah, I remember that. What did they want?"
"He wanted to know if I was his grandfather."
"What made him think you was his grandfather?"
"Sparks, I'm gonna tell you something I have held close for fifty years. At times it's been heavy to hold but now that Livy's gone it ain't gonna hurt none to tell."
Sparks sat waiting, not hearing the street noises or the kids yelling across the way, knowing that Bill would tell whatever it was he wanted to turn loose of in his own good time. He struck an old-fashioned kitchen match and relit his pipe, shook the flame off the match and flipped it over the edge of the porch into the struggling lawn.
"I was a young buck back in Joplin, Missouri before the war, had me a little old Ford. Hell, it was old then, a Model T. You know, shifted gears with your feet and operated the gas and spark with your hands. Worked some in my old man's store, had a steady girl and things were going pretty good. My Mom had died when I was thirteen but Daddy and I got along real well. Then we knew the war was comin' and I'd probably get in the army. Anyway, I joined the Navy." Bill paused and took a long drink of his beer.
"I guess you and I had about the same idea about marching in the mud", Sparks said.
"Join the Navy and see the world, That's what the posters said", Bill continued. "I was going with this girl, name of Mary Overton, and we knew we'd be married some day. When I joined up I promised her I'd come back when it was over and we'd get married then. Well, after boot training at Great Lakes I had a couple of days in Joplin on my way to Pearl Harbor to join the Arizona."
"You know, me and Mary had fooled around a bit but both of us had been taught to wait till we were married before doing the real thing. Anyway on the night before I left, we ended up parked off a little dirt road alongside Shoal Creek and the first thing you know she was helping me get her dress off. I tell you, Sparks, I ain't never felt anything like that before nor since. It wasn't just makin' love, it was the holding her and feelin' so close and so good about being with her. We covered up with an old lap robe that was in the car and didn't get dressed 'til damn near morning."
The two old men sat in silence for a time, Sparks deep in memories of his own before Bill's voice brought him back to the story.
"Yes, I'm his grandfather", Bill continued. "He told me when his father was born and I can count up to nine alright."
"Well, why didn't you tell him you was?", Sparks asked.
"He thought his grandfather was a hero, died on the Arizona when she was sunk at Pearl Harbor, and I couldn't take that away from him. Or Mary, either", Bill added.
"Bill, what did you tell this kid, why you ain't his grampa?"
"He found out from the Navy that I didn't die there so I had to come up with something. I told him I had taken his grampa's dogtag off his dead body when I went over the side 'cause I had a bad record and wanted to use a new name. He seemed to buy it."
"Don't seem to be much of a reason for dumpin' the girl you was going to marry."
"You ain't heard the reason yet, Sparks. At least my reason, maybe you woulda done different. I did what I had to."
"Reckon you did, Bill, I reckon you did."
"I had some kind of shock, Sparks. Something I couldn't handle. After getting hurt in the sinking of the Arizona I just couldn't talk, not a word for almost three months. By that time I had been moved from Pearl back to Oakland to the Oak Knoll Naval Hospital. Olivia was a nurse there. She and the other nurses kept trying to get me to talk but I didn't. I heard them but just couldn't open my mouth to say anything. I don't know why. Anyway Livy was cleaning me up one night and some way hurt my banged up leg. That brought the first words out. I cussed at her for hurting me. I guess she had me figured out 'cause she let me finish, then put her face up close to me and said in her poor English that I shouldn't feel so sorry for myself, said I was on the Arizona and got off, her husband was on the Arizona and didn't get off. I couldn't look her in the eye and dropped my eyes down to her name tag. It was the first time I noticed it. Her name was Olivia Camiso.
"One night Olivia showed me a picture of her husband and asked if I had ever seen him. I told her no, it was a big ship and I hadn't been aboard long. That was one of the few lies I ever told her."
"I talked after that, no more than I had to but when they wanted to operate on my leg to try to straighten it out and give it more normal control, I told them no. I don't think I knew why then, maybe not now, either."
"Was it Olivia that got you talking then?"
"Well, not a lot, it took a while. She ask about the Arizona, how it was on that Sunday morning but all I told her was that I got blown plumb off the ship by a bomb blast and was picked up by one of the small boats. I listened to her a lot. When I got in a wheel chair she'd wheel me out in the air and sit and talk to me. Told me about her home in the Philippines, her husband, and her little apartment down in Oakland. She had a big emptiness in her life, big enough to make me want to help fill it. I look back now and can't say whether I wanted it for her or for me, but when I got able to move around she'd come and get me and we'd get out of the hospital ground for a walk. Later, when I could go good on crutches, we'd go to her place. Sometimes I'd spend the night."
"Did she know about Mary?"
"Yeah, I told her about Mary. Not about the promise though, just that we had been sweethearts. Olivia asked why I didn't go back to her now that I could get out on a medical discharge. I lied to her again, told her that I didn't really love Mary any more, I loved her and wanted to marry her."
Sparks let the silence build, knowing he hadn't heard the story out, and wondering if Bill was going to tell the rest. He filled his pipe again, lit it and flipped another dead match into the lawn before asking, "What happened, Bill, how did you get off the Arizona?"
"Sparks, I had just got there on the sixth of December. I hadn't even got a battle station assigned when the Japs started dropping bombs the next morning. I didn't know what to do or where to go. I finally crawled under a ladder on the main deck and tried to hide. I was scared, Sparks. Bombs fallin, Jap planes strafing the deck right along side me, smoke boilin' up, guns a boomin', and guys layin' around all tore up and bleeding. Shit, I was too scared to move.
"I heard the call to abandon ship and guys were jumping over the side. There were a few small boats out there picking up guys but I couldn't see that from under the ladder. I was just froze to the deck. I saw a Filipino mess boy about to jump over the rail. He stopped with one leg up when he saw me under the ladder. He kept calling out for me to come on, but I couldn't move. So he came back across the deck, crawled under the ladder, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me over to the rail. He lifted me up and hung me on top of the rail. Just then another Jap plane came over with his guns spitting and got us both. I got it in this leg but he got it good in the chest. I still have this picture in my mind of him laying sprawled on the deck with big bloody spots all over his belly and chest, right below his name tag. I kicked myself on over and hit the water hard. I don't remember anything more till I woke up in a temporary hospital they put together.
"The next time I saw that name, Sparks, it was pinned on Olivia's uniform. Man, that hit me hard. I stewed about that, couldn't get it out of my mind. Hell, with all the guys on that ship there wasn't too big a chance that it was the same guy. Then when she showed me his picture I knew for sure. It was her husband, a mess boy, Hell Sparks, you know what we called them, Gooks! But that Gook was a better man than me. He came back from a chance to get off that burning ship and died, trying to save a chicken-hearted kid."
"Olivia never knew. How could I tell her? Sparks, I was a coward there on the Arizona and a coward there in the hospital. Maybe I've been a coward ever since but I couldn't bring more hurt to her, so I tried to fill up that emptiness I caused. Was it for me or was it for her? Hell, I don't know. I just know I couldn't turn away from it. I felt bad about Mary, worse this last year, knowin' that she had a kid to raise."
The warmth had nearly gone from the setting sun and the two old men sat in easy silence. Sparks knew the story was over. He relit the cold pipe and flipped the burnt match over the rail into the struggling lawn.
[END]