Simple Gifts (15 page)

Loud music blared from the roller coaster but few occupied the metal cars. I fished in my pocket and took out the twenty. I wouldn't ride. I'd eat.

A couple of minutes later, I bit into steaming batter smothered in mustard, letting the exquisite taste of grease and cornmeal bolster my spirit. I'd forgotten how much better things tasted outdoors.

“Marlene?”

I looked up, my mouth around the corndog, and saw Vic and Lana Hughes coming toward me. I choked, removing the batter-fried dog from my mouth. I wiped mustard off my lips and swallowed. “Hey guys.” I'd assumed since he wasn't in church tonight that he'd been working. Instead, he'd played hooky.

Vic grinned, busted. “What are you doing here on a night like tonight?”

I held out the dog. “Eating!” I grinned and greeted Lana. Her hair was a lovely shade of blonde, carefully styled, makeup just right—not too much, not too little. I had a hunch she looked the same going to bed or getting up.

Perfect.

We engaged in typical small talk, but I couldn't keep my mind on the conversation. What was the extent of Vic and Lana's involvement? He hadn't mentioned her in our talks now or over the years, but likely there were many things he'd not mentioned. I wasn't the only one who neglected to say things.

“Where're you headed?” Vic lifted his Stetson and ran a hand through thick hair. He'd matured—gotten so ruggedly charming. In his youth he'd been cute. Now he wore his forties like a fine suit, his pure masculinity drawing women's eyes.

He was successful and focused.

My seesawing personality resembled a balloon, whipping willy-nilly, hither and yon, to and fro.

I'd been certain that when Julie died, he'd fall apart, but eventually he'd risen to the tragedy and overcome it. How did he do it? How did he stay calm in the middle of life's storms?

His faith, Marlene. He' d always been steady in his belief that all things happened for a purpose. What ever happened to
your
faith?

I returned to the question at hand. “Oh, I'd not planned to stop, but I saw the lights—”

Another lie, Marlene!

And it was time to stop. Now. “Actually, I saw them setting up yesterday and decided to come. I think I'll eat one more corn dog and then go home.”

Lana laughed “You can't go home! There'd be nobody left. Come with us.”

I glanced at Vic. “I shouldn't…”

“Why not?” He reached into his shirt pocket and drew out a handful of jelly beans. “Bean?”

“Thanks, no.”

He popped a couple in his mouth. “Better come with us. We were on our way to ride the Ferris wheel.” He extended an arm, and as quick as that, they talked me into staying. With Lana on his right and me on his left, Vic ushered us to the big wheel with the multicolored lights and the blaring music. The deserted ride looked like it needed a customer.

We marched to the base of the ride and waited while Vic purchased tickets. A blue metal car jerked to a halt, and the operator loaded us into the wide seat he'd wiped clean of rain.

As the wheel lifted and soared above the carnival grounds, the pond came into view. High above the ground I detected raindrops falling, creating rippling circles on the glassy surface. Much like my life. Each new day, creating rippling, widening circles…

Awareness of Vic sitting beside me crept into my conscience. Did he feel it—the emotional thread that continued to connect us after all these years? If he'd known that Noel was out of my life, had been out of my life for a long time, would things be different now? Would the emotions licking through me like wildfire affect him in the same spine-tingling, yet worrisome, way?

I'd never know. That's the problem with lies. They turned into snares. Steel bonds. Barnacles that latched onto your life and never released.

Below us lay a sea of rides: the Octopus, Round Up, RockN-Chairs, Paratrooper, and the Moon Bounce. My heart was bouncing itself as our car reached the top of the Ferris wheel and halted. The wind whistled through our hair, and a hand-ful of raindrops splattered against my face, but I didn't mind. An imprecise creak sounded somewhere in a car beneath us. Colored lights glistened off the pond, and the glassy image reflected the tall round wheel blinking magnificently in the rainy night. With the almost deserted midway below us, we seemed separated from reality. I loved it.

I wanted to look at Vic so badly it hurt. No one said anything; we sat in the car and I gazed around, reveling in the beauty of God's creation. Such a perfect blend of light and the Master's surrounding creation forging a calming peace within my soul.

The wheel bumped. The car swung. I noticed Lana reached out to grasp Vic's hand. Small gesture, but what I wouldn't give for the same self-indulgent privilege.

The ride started up again, and the car swung out over the ground in a dizzying whirl, swaying back and forth. Damp air whipped my hair, and the sound of feminine laughter—-was that mine?—blended with Vic's deep timbre and Lana's lilt. The incredible freedom I had missed for years tore at me, making me laugh so hard I had trouble catching my breath.

Around and around we went, and I wanted the experience to never stop.

But it did. All too soon it was over. We climbed out of the car, rearranging our damp hair.

At Vic's insistence, we ordered three forks and shared a hot cinnamon roll. I could have eaten a whole one. And another corn dog. Carnivals brought out the pig in me. By the time we left the grounds, we'd agreed to come back late in the week, the three of us, and tackle that interesting-looking Paratrooper ride. Who said you had to be young to have fun?

We said good-night at the entrance gate, but Vic insisted on walking me to my car once Lana was safely in hers.

So she hadn't ridden with him.

I was ashamed at my surge of relief. It was none of my business whom he dated.

I unlocked the car door and switched on my headlights. Vic braced an arm on the open driver's car door, waiting until I snapped my seat belt in place.

“All set.” I looked up, then away. He was too close now, my feelings too raw to risk his gaze. Did he want me to look at him? Of course not. He thought I was married, and Vic would never overstep such a boundary.

“It's been fun.” His deep voice rattled my senses.

“It's been a blast.” Did I show my age or what?
Blast.
The proper slang would be
sweet
, but I wasn't thinking clearly. Nothing unusual when Vic was around.

At least the passing years hadn't changed everything.

“Yeah.” He straightened. “A blast. Drive carefully.”

“I have all of a mile and a half to go.”

“I know your driving.”

I shrugged, recalling the first night I'd pulled into town. He would have to wonder, wouldn't he? “I'll be careful.”

“A lot can happen in a mile and a half.” His eyes met mine as he closed the door. I drove out of the parking lot watching him disappear in my rearview mirror.

Time sprouted wings. Thursday rolled around faster than a freight train. I called my boss, and he encouraged me to take the whole month off; I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or something else to worry about, but I grabbed the invitation.

As I dressed, I braced for what I knew lay ahead of me that day. I'd made up my mind to see Herman's gift. The animal shelter. Really see it this time. Not drive up to the back of the building and ignore everything I could.

Mixed emotions colored any excitement I might have had regarding the new building. The old one had been little more than a garage converted to hold homeless animals until they were claimed. If not claimed, Nick Henderson drove to Columbia and put the animals in the county shelter.

I applied lipstick and evened the color with the tip of my finger. Better that the Butchies were honored than Herman. Those dogs were the reason Parnass Springs's animals had a home. Herman might have built the shelter to honor me, but I knew my father's love for his dogs. The Butchies were his family.

An hour later I stood in front of the sparkling glass and brick building in awe of the structure. Green lawns and rows of flowerbeds blooming in variegated colors stood out around the low, sand-colored building. The area was clean, neat, and attractive. No wonder Joe wanted me to really see it. Herman would have been overjoyed with his accomplishment.

I dashed unexpected moisture gathering in the corners of my eyes, confused at my sentimentality. Years ago sentiment hadn't come so easily. Little girls didn't understand little boys. Herman loved to tease me. Aunt Beth said it was because he loved me so much, but at the time I'd not felt loved, but humiliated.

A memory drifted through my mind, and suddenly I was a third grader again.

“Marlene loves Billy…” Herman danced around me, holding his teddy bear in his arms.

“I do not!” I shoved him, knocking him off balance. He fell flat and burst into tears.

Billy helped a sobbing Herman up.

I pushed Billy away and grabbed Herman's arm. “Here.” I wiped my father's nose on his handkerchief and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Now stop crying.”

He didn't. He' d bawled and bawled until someone called Aunt Ingrid to come and get him…

I pushed the memory away, wiping my eyes. I'd been so dogged about blotting out those years. But had I really? Love seeded with emotion—emotion I still didn't know how to handle—hounded my life. I hadn't known how to deal with my child-father, and I did so many things wrong. If only I could go back and set things right, but life didn't work that way. I sniffled as another memory swam up through my subconscious. My father dancing around as Vic came to the door.

“Hey Vic! Marly fixed her hair just for you!”

“Shut up, Herman! “I tackled him and we fell in a tumbled heap at Vic's feet. Arms and legs flailed. Vic broke us up, me sobbing and Herman filled with confusion. Later Herman approached me, eyes sad. “Are you mad at me, Marlene?”

“No, Herman, but stop telling boys that I like them or that I fix my hair specially for them.”

“But you do!”

“But I don't want them to know it!”

I shoved him, and he shoved back, and…

Enough, Marlene.
I dropped down on a park bench, watching a squirrel scamper up a tree, then jump from limb to limb. Native African tribes often believed that the souls of their ancestors were in animals. Was that Herman, lunging from tree to tree, joyful in his innocence?

No, I was a Christian, albeit a disobedient child, but I didn't believe that, although I remembered his love for all animals. Since returning to Parnass Springs, it seemed I was drowning in memories. Beneath the embarrassment and resentment, ran a strong thread of love. I'd been a child then, with a child's mind and reasoning. Time had brought a new perspective. Working with patients over the years had brought a new understanding of challenges. I'd grown more thankful for my health and less critical of others' handicaps.

Was he coming? I watched the gym doors, praying that for once my father wouldn't insist on coming to a school chili social and parent meeting. I deliberately hid my note concerning the event in hopes that even Aunt Beth wouldn't find it, but she had.

“Your father enjoys these meetings, Marlene. Just relax.”

“But he' ll embarrass me.”

“No one ever died from embarrassment.” Her lips tightened. “You should be ashamed of yourself, young lady. Your father is a good man.”

He was
not
a man. I swung my legs back and forth, listening to sound of the heels of my shoes strike the metal folding chair. He was a dumb goofus.

Aunt Beth reached over and squeezed my knee.

“Ouch!”

“Stop kicking.”

Chair legs scraped and I heard Herman's voice. “'Cuse me.” His big feet tromped on others' as he maneuvered his way down the row of seats to drop down next to me. He grinned. “Hi, Marly.”

I refused to acknowledge his entrance. He' d embarrass me; I knew he would.

The meeting started. Peggy Wiser stood up and made her introductory remarks, then asked if there was any new business.

I mentally groaned when Herman stood up and offered his news.

“Marly wet the bed last night. It got all over her doll, and I got to help Aunt Beth wash it off and change the sheets!”

I wanted to die. To just sink into the floor and die. Why did he do this to me? I hated him! Hated him!

A shudder rippled up my spine.

Marly
. Herman had called me Marly first—not Vic. Why had I blocked that out of my mind? How could I have had such love and protection and yet felt such utter dread for my father? Would God forgive me for the thoughts I'd had? Mean thoughts, wishes that I'd never been born—that
he' d
never been born. In retrospect, I saw what he was doing. He wasn't trying to embarrass me, he was
proud
of me, trying his best to share my life.