Down the Dirt Road (9 page)

     “I am not happy about this Jennie Marshall.  You
’re
a smart girl, you could have earned a scholarship, gone to college.”

     “Like I said, Ms. Burch
, things change.  Things
have
changed
.  I have other things to worry about now.”

      “Well, I suppose that is true.  Once this paperwork is approved, I will have your diploma printed and mailed to you.”

    There was no mistaking the disappointment in the guidance counselor’s voice.  Maybe she got a bonus for every kid that she counseled who graduated.  Or worse, did her pay get docked for every kid who dropped out?  A punishment for failure to counsel properly?
  That would make her feel bad…not bad enough to say another year but bad nonetheless.

    “Thank you, Ms. Burch
.  I appreciate your help.”  She stuck out her hand to shake the woman’s hand but the teary eyed counselor grabbed her and hugged her
hard
.

     “Everything is going to work out just fine
, Jennie Marshall.  You are a smart girl, stronger than you think.”

      She stepped away from Jennie.  There were tears in her eyes as she held the door.  Jennie stepped into the hall and made her way to the main entrance of the school.   She never once looked back as she drove away from the sprawling compound where she had spent the majority of the past three years.  That part of her life was done.
 

7.

    It was done.  Her entire senior year of high school passed over in a twen
ty minute meeting with Ms. Burch
.
  Now she could focus on what was important.  Keeping the farm running and finding a job had to be her main focus.  It was enough to occupy her brain, enough to keep her from thinking about Michael and Trisha and all the lost dreams she had just discarded with a single signature on a yellow piece of paper.

    The black ribbons around the trees at the paper factory waved slightly in the hot breeze.  A man she recognized as Joe Kelty, an old friend of her father’s stood in front of the lighted marquis placing big black letters into the slots inside. 

   HELP WANTED  APPLY  INSIDE

  Apparently they were done mourning her father. 
In the space of an hour they had moved on. 
His position stood open and needed to be filled.  Life would go on as though John Marshall had never spent
some
twenty years working the giant mills and presses.

    
Help wanted.
 

     Help wanted.

   
It didn’t say
experienced
help wanted. 

    
She needed a job, there was a job opening. 

    Slamming on the brakes, she whipped an illegal u-turn right there in the middle of Main Street and pulled into the side parking lot by the huge main building passing all the trees with the black ribbons blowing in the breeze.
  

     What were the chances the company would hire John Marshall’s daughter to fill his empty position?

    
A quick glance down reminded her she was still wearing the same clothes she
had done her morning chores in and she wished she had taken that moment to clean up before going to the school.  What she wore was n
ot exactly a stellar outfit for applying for a job.  But then, how dressy
could factory work be?  Daddy always wore jeans
and a tee shirt with his old worn work boots.

    Ice cold
, machine cooled
air slammed into her as she opened the door into the main lobby of the building where human resources was housed. 
It felt refreshing against the wet heat she left behind.  Goose pimples formed on her arm
s
in quick response to the temperature change as the constant layer of perspiration on her skin chilled almost immediately.  She reached up and pushed the stray curls that had escaped the knot o
n her head behind her ears in a
futile effort to smooth the crazy mess. 

    
The paper factory was the biggest company in their small town, at least half of the locals either worked there currently, had been employed there at some point or would one day be a part of the factory workforce.  It was a family business for many- two, three even four generations back.  Jenny would be a second generation employee.  Not exactly the glamorous city lifestyle she had once longed for but it would have to do for now.

    “Good morning, Ma’am.”  She addressed the woman behind the main desk.  “I would like to fill out an application please.”

    The woman eyeballed her up and down from under thick layers of mascara and blue eye shadow.  She tapped one long, red
acrylic
nail against the formica countertop as she twirled a bleached blonde curl around a finger on her other hand.  Her gum popped and snapped as she stared at Jennie.

    “I don’t think we have any openings in the offices, honey.  Sorry.”

     “I don’t want an office job.  I’ll take whatever you have a
vailable.  I’m not above gettin
’ my hands dirty.”

     The woman
didn’t answer, just
scowled a little as she picked up the phone and tapped four numbers in with her ridiculously long nail on her left forefinger.

     “Hey Susie, I’m sending someone to ya.  Says she wants to apply for a job.  Nope, wants to be on the floor.  OK, thanks Susie.”

     Pulling out a lime green sticker with the word VISITOR on it in large black letters, she handed
it
over to Jennie.  “Stick this here to your top and then follow that hall there
on the left to where it ends.  Make a right and go three doors down.  Sign will say Human Resources.  Tell them you are there to see Susie.”  With a wave of her hand she dismissed Jennie and returned to whatever game she had been entertaining on her computer.

    Jennie did as she was told, following the directions to the human resources office, all the while thinking about her father walking the same halls.  She missed him so much it ached in her soul.

   As she stood in front of the large glass window embedded in the center of the steel door, Jennie inhaled deeply in an effort to calm her nerves and control the emotional quake that had begun to threaten
her insides
. 

    A much friendlier smile greet
ed
her as she pulled the heavy door open.
 

    “I… umm… I need to see Susie.  I …I want to …to apply for a job.  Your sign says help wanted.”

     “Did Ms. Macy tell you that there aren’t any current openings in any of the office
s
?”

     Ms. Macy had to be the
overdone woman that sat behind the front desk.
  Yeah, she told her but Jennie didn’t believe her- or care.  It wasn’t the office she was looking for. 

    “I want to work on the factory floor.  Like my father did.”

    “Your father works here?  Well, dear, who is he?  I’ll call him up to the office and we can get you moving on the process.”

     “My father was John Marshall.  He…”

     “
Oh, ri
ght,”  The woman’s eyes warmed with compassion, “
I am so sorry dear.  You must be Jennie.  I knew your father for many years, he was very proud of you.”

     Jennie dropped her eye
s
to the floor, waiting for the tears to recess back
behind her lids
before making eye contact with the kindly woman again.  “Thank you, ma’am.  Now, about a job?”

     “What about school?  We don’t do much in the way of part time work, dear.”

     “I’m looking for a full time job, preferably the hours my daddy used to have.  I won’t be goin’ to school next week,
just arranged it this morning.  I had enough credits to graduate already.  Don’t need to go back for another year.  It would be a waste of my time.”

      “Um… OK.  I see.  Well, Jennie are you quite sure your daddy would be wanting you to be working in a paper mill?

    
“I don’t see as how he would have muc
h to say about it, now would he?
”

    Her tone was sharper than she intended and guilt immediately washed over her.  The other woman was taken aback but recovered quickly, probably chalking her behavior up to the
sudden
loss of her father.

    
“All right then, dear, let me get you an application packet to complete.  Once you are done, someone will be in touch about an interview.”

     An interview?  Seriously?  This is a paper mill.  Factory work, not Wall Street, for God’s sake!

     “Yes, Ma’am.  Thank you.  It shouldn’t take me too long to fill it out.”

      Susie led her to a small table with a single chair and placed a packet of papers down in front of her.  It took twice as long as she thought it would to get through the
thick stack of pages.  The criminal history check was the funniest- whatever sort of criminal history could she, Jennie Marshall, have living on a farm in the world’s smallest town?

    Just last week you were wishing Michael and Trisha dead!

    Yeah, but she
didn’t
actually
kill
them…

  
When the final page was signed and dated, she rose from her seat and carried the packet back to Susie.  “About how long until I hear from someone?”

     “Well, now, I really couldn’t say for sure, dear.  These things take time.”

      “But you have at least one opening.”  Of course she referred to her father’s position and the other woman knew it.

     “Yes,”
she responded quietly, “there is at least one.  But, Jennie, your daddy worked her
e
twenty
some years.  You aren’t qualified for his job.”

     “Ma’am, I really need a job.  I will work hard and I catch on quick.  Daddy didn’t leave so much behind and I swore to him I wouldn’t let my momma lose the farm.  I’ll
do whatever it takes to keep it;
it’s his legacy and all we have left.”

     A single tear fell from her left eye and rolled slowly down her cheek, the perfect finale to such an emotional play of her hand.  A dying promise by a heartsick daughter was sure to give her a leg up in the hiring process especially since her daddy was so well liked.  No such promis
e
had ever been made but Ms. Susie would never be the wiser.

    The other woman’s face softened instantly.

    “Oh, my dear, I had no idea!  I am so sorry.  I will do everything I can to get your packet to the top of the pile, OK?”
  Susie patted her arm in a grandmotherly sort of way.  Jennie did her best to look as sad and forlorn as possible.  It was a real shame she would never have the chance to strike out on her own.  She would probably have done very well as an actress.

    “Thank you kindly, Ma’am.  I would sure appreciate that.  Momma would too, I know.  She just couldn’t bear to lose Daddy’s land.”

     If there had been an award for saddest farmer’s daughter, Jennie would have won it just then.
The heavy drawl she placed on the words emphasized her sadness.
There was no mistaking the deep pity in Ms.
Susie’s expression as she patted
Jennie on the arm once again and sent her on her way.

8.

    Two days later the phone rang. 

   
The time passed quickly with all the things that needed doing around the far
m; Jennie barely noticed
that Trisha and all her friends and classmates would return to celebrate their senior year on the following Tuesday.  It was
already
the Friday before Labor Day when the call came from the paper factory.