Hidden Scars (19 page)

Chuck pulled out his handkerchief and led me to the couch. He held me until the tears subsided, yet the anger continued to fester. I wasn’t mad at Chuck. I was mad at God.

Chuck brushed a strand of hair from my face. “I’ve already talked to Grandmother. She’s eager for you to move in with her. You can stay in my old room.”

I shook my head and sat up straight. “I can’t. I don’t really know your grandmother, and she doesn’t know me. Besides…” My thoughts raced. Why couldn’t he understand? “Have you forgotten my parents also live in Greer?”

“No, but they can’t hurt you now. You know that, and so do they.”

“Please,” I begged. “There’s got to be another way.”

He sighed. “Okay…Grandmother has a shop in her backyard. There’s running water, a bathroom, and with a little bit of work, I can turn it into an efficiency. With the money I’ll send home and whatever job you can find, you’ll be able to make it while I’m gone. The shop sits between her house and my parent’s, so you won’t be lonely.”

“You want to bet?” I huffed.

He leaned closer. “Please don’t fight me on this. I don’t like it any more than you do. You think I want to leave you?” His eyes reddened. “It’ll be hard, but we’ll get through it. We always have, haven’t we?”

Torn between my desires or his, I buried my head against his chest and refused to answer. How could he think about moving me to Greer? Or that I wouldn’t be lonely? After several minutes of silence, I finally gave in. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

The next morning, I explained our circumstances to Mr. Perkins and gave my two weeks’ notice. He shook his head and walked away without saying a word.

At first, I thought he was angry with me, but then Betty explained, “His nephew was killed in Vietnam last year. He hasn’t gotten over it.”

My stomach twisted in knots.

By the second week in January, Chuck, with the help of his father, had refurbished the little shop. We moved in with bare necessities and stored everything else at his grandmother’s. The tiny kitchen held a twenty-four inch range, a white 1950s refrigerator, and a metal cabinet-sink combination. A double bed, dresser, and small closet were on the opposite end, leaving enough room in the middle for two chairs and a TV. The only private spot was the bathroom, where a person could sit on the toilet, wash their hands, and soak their feet all at the same time. One of Chuck’s aunts gave us a roll of orange, shag carpet, left over from her “Latest remodeling adventures.” The floor covering, along with the dark paneled walls, made the living quarters look like a dungeon. It matched my feelings of despair.

I found a part-time job at an auto parts house, keeping books four hours a day, six days a week. Chuck went back to work for Mr. Fisher.

I couldn’t hope to avoid my parents since we all went to the same church. The one I’d attended since birth. The one whose members had made a major impact on my knowledge of God. But my dad, the deacon, who went out of his way to welcome people, never once acknowledged our presence. Oh, he’d nod if Chuck or I spoke, but nothing more. I often wondered if the shunning would last a lifetime and tried to convince myself it didn’t matter.

The first time I shopped at their store, Dad busied himself, following one of the older widow ladies around, gathering items she rattled off from her list. His smile reminded me so much of his mother’s…my mamaw. His smile vanished when he saw me.

Chuck’s words,
they can’t stay mad forever
, played over in my mind as I read from my own list. Not that I’d forgotten what was on it, but I’d never been able to meet Dad’s intimidating gaze.

I picked up a 30 amp fuse Chuck’s dad sent me after and placed it in the basket next to the washer for the kitchen sink. Then I flipped the efficiency key over in my palm. We needed another key, and it wasn’t as if I didn’t know how, or hadn’t cut duplicates before, but I didn’t dare. Not anymore. Instead, I dropped the key inside my purse, and after a swift kick to the wobbly front wheel that locked up for the fourth time, headed to the next isle to pick out a whole-new doorknob—keys and all. The cheapest one cost much more than I’d anticipated. But so had the emotional toil of being in the presence of my parents without Chuck. I tossed the package in with my other articles and made my way to the front counter.

Mom didn’t say a word as I unload my buggy.

“Busy day?”

“Humph, every day’s busy around here.” She inspected my items, then leaned over and looked inside the crippled cart. “Is that it?”

The tightness in my throat increased. “Yes, ma’am.”

“We heard y’all had to move back.” She punched numbers on the monstrosity cash register. “I also hear Chuck’s waiting to be drafted. A few years in the military will probably do that boy a lot of good. He’s got a smart mouth on him.”

Her words sliced through me with the precision of a skilled surgeon, but I clamped my mouth shut. I wouldn’t be back. They might have the only hardware store in town, but there were other towns.

We’d hardly gotten settled when the official notification came. Chuck was being drafted and called up for a physical. I prayed they’d find a problem. Nothing life threatening. Maybe a heart murmur or only one kidney. Something. Anything. But he passed. They classified him 1A.

A week later a letter came. Chuck tore it open while I finished the breakfast dishes and feigned disinterest.

“Well, the wait’s over.”

My hands gripped the dishcloth. “When?”

“The end of March.” He stood beside me. “We have thirty days.”

Thirty days?
“It’s not enough.” I threw the wet cloth against the wall. “It’s not—”

He opened his arms and wrapped me in their warmth. So close, and yet I missed him already.

The days past much too fast. “There’s so much I need to tell you,” Chuck kept saying. He talked to me about our finances. Together we wrote out all the bills. “My mother taught me this trick when I bought my first car. This will help you stay on top of things.” Chuck labeled envelopes: electric, phone, gas, insurance, groceries, repairs, miscellaneous. He marked each one with a specific amount I’d need to put in weekly and then placed a manila envelope in the top dresser drawer. “This contains all our important papers.”

One of them was his life insurance policy. He taught me how to change a flat and check the oil. Almost every day he thought of something else I needed to know or learn.

A week before he left, his family planned a cookout. A mini family reunion, they called it. A chance for everyone to say good-bye. We wanted to spend every moment together, alone.

Marsha and Bob, the only members of my family invited, drove in from Arkansas. It was good to see them. I hadn’t realized I missed spending time with Marsha. Her being the big sister, I’d hoped—no, I expected her to share words of comfort, maybe say something to help me make sense out of it all. She’d always been witty, tough, and savvy. I’d admired those qualities and often wished I could be like her. But what if she didn’t offer any insightful tidbits? Perhaps only God could help me, but He wasn’t talking. Or maybe I couldn’t hear Him. I felt His presence and knew I’d never make it without Him, but once again, whys with no answers plagued my life.

With the threat of rain, along with one of March’s forty-degree cool snaps, Chuck’s grandmother volunteered her home. And soon the large clan, seemingly undaunted by the weather, began to arrive. Aunts, uncles, cousins—even great-aunts and uncles—babies, teenagers, and every age in-between crowded the three-bedroom house, turning the place into a venue of chaos with infants crying, children running in and out, and everyone talking at the same time. I stood back, amazed by all the hugs and laughter. And the fact they cared enough about one of their own to come at all.

Older women wove through the tiny kitchen space as if prompted by some unwritten work assignment. “We’ve got it, Morgan.” Chuck’s Aunt Helen dried her hands on her apron, adding pickle juice to the already flour-dusted sunflowers. “I’ll call you if we need anything—oh!” She flitted away as the stove timer screeched.

Marsha and I scooted out of her way. “But we don’t mind helping. Really.”

When she didn’t respond, we backed farther into the doorway to avoid disrupting their structured flow.

“Come on.” Marsha tugged my shirttail. “Find your jacket and let’s get out of here.”

I twisted, trying to spot Chuck. I hadn’t seen him since his cousin Bill ordered him, along with Bob, to join some of the guys in the living room. “And go where?”

“For a walk.”

There! He sat smiling. Laughing. Surrounded by loved ones. If only for a brief moment he could escape the reality of what the next few days would bring, the day would be a success, wouldn’t it?

Marsha tapped my shoulder. “It’ll do us both some good. We won’t be gone long, and who knows, maybe by the time we get back, the ladies may have found something for us to do. At any rate, perhaps it’ll take your mind off of things for a while.”

I dropped back on my heels. A diversion
would
be nice. “You’re right.” She’d always been right about so many things. “Let’s go.”

Outside, savory smoke teased my appetite.

“Where are you girls headed?” Coals sizzled as Marvin slathered his grandmother’s homemade barbeque sauce on the seared chicken pieces.

“We thought we’d go for a short stroll.” My mouth watered as I resisted the temptation to stick my finger in the sauce dish. “But if you need some help….”

“Nah.” He raised the top on the next grill. “Uncle Steve and I’ve got this covered…if he ever gets back here with more sauce and a fresh cup of coffee for me. Y’all go ahead. Enjoy your walk.”

We’d hardly made it past Grandmother’s driveway when Marsha asked, “Have you ever thought about having a family? I mean
really
thought about it?”

“Some.” But truth be told, I was in no rush. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve read and studied enough child psychology to know history sometimes repeats itself. Learned behavior plays a major role in our lives. Too often, the very things we hated about the way we were raised will be what we’ll pass on to our children. We become our parents.” She placed her hands on her stomach. “And that scares me.”

“Marsha.” I caught her arms and halted our steps. “Are you pregnant?”

“Yep.”

“Why do you say it like that? I’m excited! I’m going to be an aunt. You should be excited.”

“I was…. I am.” She forced a smile. “Bob and his parents are ecstatic.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Do you know what Mom said when Bob and I told her about the baby?” Marsha didn’t wait for an answer. “She pointed at my stomach and said, ‘That child will grow up some day and break your heart,’ and how I’d ‘count the days until it grew up and left home.’ I told her I just hope I didn’t break my child’s heart or spirit. Then I stood there hoping she’d say one more word, but she walked away. I can’t imagine being like her or Dad, but it’s not like we’ve had the best role models.”

“Sure we did. Gram loved us, took us fishing, hiking, to church. Every summer, we couldn’t wait to spend time with her. Life was an adventure. She never raised her voice or hand. There’s your role model.”

Marsha looked at me sideways. “You haven’t seen Gram since she’s moved in with Mom and Dad, have you?”

“No. That’s one place I’ve tried to avoid.”

“She looks awful. Mom mocked at my concerns, and Gram denies anything being wrong. But something’s not right.”

“I should go by sometime when Mom and Dad aren’t there and check on her. She has to be lonely. Chuck hasn’t left yet and already I think I know how she feels.”

“Why did you come back here, Morgan? We always said if we ever left this place, we’d never come back.”

I kicked a small rock, sending it down the road. “Yeah, I know. And I’m too numb or dumb to even pretend I have the answer to that question, other than I don’t want Chuck worrying about me.”

With only days before he left, Chuck devoted almost all his time to me, but he’d promised to meet Mr. Fisher for lunch Monday. Knowing Mom and Dad would be at work, I picked up two orders at the local dairy bar and headed to see Gram. I walked in smiling.

She sat on the couch wiping tears from her face.

“Gram!” I practically threw the sack of food and my purse on the coffee table and dropped to the couch beside her. “What’s wrong?”

She fumbled for the tissue in her pocket, dabbed her face, and blew her nose. “Oh, don’t pay any attention to me.” She waved her hand and displayed a half smile. “Where did you come from? I didn’t hear you drive up.”

I pointed toward the bag of food. “I thought we’d have lunch together. Are you hungry?”

Her eyes brightened, and her smile widened. “Daw’lin, I could eat the legs off the table.”

“I’ll take all this stuff to the kitchen and fix us some iced tea.” Before picking up the items, I gripped Gram’s frail hand. “But first, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.” She patted my hand. “I’m fine. You know how old folks get. They cry one minute and laugh the next. It’s part of living.”

She wasn’t going to tell me, but I knew at that moment she needed me as much as I needed her.

The day Chuck left for basic training was worse than anything I’d ever experienced. I tried to store the memory of his lips on mine—the warmth, the gentleness, the way my heart responded to his touch, and the tingling current that ran through my body. I looked into his blue eyes wanting to memorize every detail. His arms circled me and held me close, making me feel like our bodies could melt and absorb into one. When the moment came for him to step inside the bus, I dug my fingernails into my palms and fought an urge to run after him or scream out like an injured animal. I forced a smile, but couldn’t control the tears. I lost sight of him and only saw figures mingling. The windows glittered through the sudden sheen of tears. The bus door closed with a swish. The motor roared.

A window opened and Chuck’s face appeared. “I love you, Morgan!”

I stood dazed and watched him hold his hand high as the bus drove away. I blinked away the tears and tried to keep the dingy, white bus in focus until—he was gone.