Chapter 142
Norman, Oklahoma, 1957
“Now, this here is the car you’re lookin’ for,” Elliott said in his best Southern-charmer voice as he walked around a newer Ford model he’d just taken in on a trade the day before. “Look at that interior. Ain’t that clean? And this chrome detailing is to die for.”
The older man hunched over and inspected the trim around the windows, running his hand around the edge. “She run good?”
“Purrs like a kitten,” Elliott assured him. “Tell you what, I’ll just go grab the keys, and we’ll have you behind the wheel in a matter of minutes.” He smiled, looking the man in the eye, and Elliott knew immediately he had another sale.
He spun around and headed to the office to grab the keys, smiling at Sheryl, the receptionist, a cute blonde who never seemed to care too much that her neckline was lower than most women thought acceptable.
Another salesmen, Peter, was standing in front of the key case. Elliott had never liked the guy. With his sandy blond hair and rugged good looks, he mostly targeted women, and it seemed like he was constantly trying to get Elliott in trouble with the boss, Mr. Anderson. Of course, the fact that Elliott sold at least two, sometimes three, cars a day was probably a little intimidating to Peter, since he’d been doing this a lot longer and couldn’t seem to keep up with the kid, but then, that really wasn’t Elliott’s problem.
“’Scuse me, Pete. Need to grab some keys here, if you don’t mind.”
“You taking Mr. Cutler for a test drive?” Peter asked, smirking. “He’s been in here half a dozen times in the last week. He’s not really looking to buy. Not yet.”
“We’ll see about that.” Elliott grabbed the keys he needed and headed back to his customer. He already had the sale—he could see it in the old man’s eyes. He wasn’t sure what it was, but his powers of persuasion seemed to increase the older he got. He could get just about anything he wanted if he looked a person directly in the eye and told him how it was going to be. The only person it didn’t always work on was Nancy, although it did sometimes, which is why she was expecting their second child in a few months. And Peggy. They didn’t speak as much now that he had moved out and dropped out of school. He knew his foster mother was still under the impression that he had ruined his life, and maybe she was right, but the fact that he made top salesman every year he’d worked here, even when he was just part time and still in high school, gave him hope that he’d found his niche.
A few hours later, he headed home to the small brick bungalow he’d rented when he and Nancy first got married almost two years ago. His favorite part of the day was when his son, Wally, saw his face for the first time in the evening and reached up so his dad could scoop him up. As difficult as it had been to let all of his dreams go and commit to raising his son, he knew he'd made the right decision the second that tiny, wrinkly baby had grabbed his finger. Now, bouncing him in his arms and singing a silly song he’d made up about Wally the walrus, he headed into the kitchen to see what sort of a mood Nancy was in.
She was sitting at the table with her feet propped up on a chair, her bulging stomach peeping out around the Formica tabletop, smoking a cigarette. “It’s about time you got home,” she said as he bent down to kiss her cheek. “Chicken is about done.”
“Okay. I’ll get it out of the oven. Do you need me to do anything else?” He hadn’t even taken his suit jacket off yet, but he didn’t mind helping out his pregnant wife in the kitchen. He saw a pile of dishes, and it reminded him momentarily of another kitchen, in another small house, though this one was, by comparison, much cleaner, and for a second, he remembered struggling to reach the faucet to turn the water on in order to wash the dishes or make a bottle. That seemed like ages ago, but despite Nancy’s constant bickering about his ability to clean anything correctly or even boil water, he knew he’d learned a lot from that experience, more than he was willing to reflect on at the moment.
After dinner, he spent a few hours on the floor playing with Wally while Nancy slept. He hoped she’d feel better after the second baby came at the end of the month, just in time for Thanksgiving, but something told him chasing two little children around the house was going to be even more exhausting. Of course, she got a lot of help from two eager grandmothers who, even though they’d never admit they were happy about the situation, were glad to have babies in their lives. Elliott didn’t spend too much time talking to Peggy, but he knew she visited his home often when he was at work so she could play with Wally.
His son was asleep in his crib, and he was cleaning up the kitchen, exhausted from a long day, when the telephone rang. He rushed to reach it before it woke either his wife or the snoozing baby. “Hello?”
“Hi, Elliott. It’s Mom,” Peggy’s voice said. “How are you?”
“Oh, fair to middlin’ I suppose,” he said, trying to sound as awake as possible. He didn’t need for her to know that he was running out of gas. “How are you and Dad? How’s Jimmy?”
“Well, Jimmy is actually the one I was calling to talk about.” Her voice sounded concerned, which in turn made Elliott’s stomach tighten. “I’m afraid he’s not doing so well these days. Something… happened… something I can’t quite explain. He won’t talk to me about it. Now, all he does is sit in his room or ride his bike out around the countryside by himself for hours.”
“How do you know he’s by himself?” He wasn’t sure why that was his primary question, but it seemed like the easiest one to answer.
“Neighbors, mostly. They see him. Down by the railroad tracks. Something is going on, Elliott, and since he refuses to talk to me about it, I thought…. I know you have a wife and a baby to take care of, but you’ve always been close to Jimmy. Do you think you could stop by and talk to him this weekend?”
She was right—they had always been close, until recently. Actually, things had started to shift about the time that Reggie had died and Nancy had announced her pregnancy. At that point, Elliott had sort of stepped away from his previous family, pushed all memories of his lost friend aside, and focused on providing a home for his child and wife. He hadn’t talked to Jimmy about much of anything in a year or more. “I’ve got to work on Saturday, but I can come over after church on Sunday.” Nancy’s parents were very strict about her attending church, even if she no longer lived under their roof, though it clearly hadn’t done the job her deacon father had expected or else perhaps they wouldn’t be in this predicament, but he wanted to keep the in-laws happy, so he showed up bright and early every Sunday morning with a smile on his face, even when he was exhausted, like he was right now.
“Sunday will be just fine. Thanks, Elliott. How’s Nancy?”
“Sleeping at the moment,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder as if he were making sure she hadn’t gotten up and snuck in the kitchen. “I think she’ll be more than a little happy to have this baby out.”
“Maybe you two should think about making sure there aren’t anymore.”
While he knew it was none of his mother’s business, he simply said, “Maybe so.” There was no need to tell her Nancy would likely never touch him again with a ten-foot pole, unless he really laid on the persuasion tactics thick, and the more of an attitude she developed, the less likely he was to do that. He’d survived by himself for sixteen years, so he’d find a way to get through the day.
“Sorry to be nosy,” Peggy said quietly. “You know, I just want what’s best for you.”
“I know, Mom.” It was becoming harder and harder for him to use that word; the more he distanced himself from the farm, the more he slipped back into the reality that for most of his life he really had been on his own, in more ways than he was willing to acknowledge.
“Okay, Son. You take care, and we’ll see you on Sunday.”
