Down the Dirt Road (23 page)

    “Oh Grayson, why won’t you give me chance to apologize?”  She mumbled to herself as she made her way back through the crowds the way she had come.

     Slowly walking the sidewalk of Maple Street, the road that ran parallel to Main Street, she kicked at a rock and cursed herself for being such a fool.  The music of the marching band had been replaced by the strains of bagpipes playing
Amazing Grace
, Daddy’s favorite hymn.  Tears welled up at the memory the same hymn played by the same musicians at Daddy’s funeral.  Her heart ached as she realized how much she missed her father.  The hurt intensified as she imagined attending yet another funeral;  that of an extremely brave young soldier.

    As she rounded the corner, not really aware of where she had been walking, Jennie was shocked to see that she had reached the large parking lot in front of the only strip mall in their tiny little town. 
It was t
he
very
same parking lot where parade participants en
ded their march to glory.  Most of them the marchers had had the foresight to park their
cars here so there would be no need to hike back to the school grounds where the parade had begun.

     Quickening her pace until she was almost at a full on run, Jennie made her way over to where the marching band was just entering the lot.  She studied the crowd, searching for just one particular face.  When she finally found him it was all she could do not to run straight to him.  Grayson stood around with the other recruits while Jennie watched from a safe distance.  She wanted to talk to him alone, have some time to make things right without prying eyes and ears getting in the way.

   It took the better part of twenty minutes before Grayson said his goodbyes, shaking hands with the other guys and walking away from the group.  Not exactly sure how she would get his attention once Grayson was in his car,
she was pleasantly surprised to see that he began walking away from the crowded lot.  He was going home on foot.  All she had to do was catch up with him before he got too far ahead.  She had absolutely no idea where he lived.

     Breaking in to a full on run, Jennie chose the path that ran along the edge of the lot in front of the stores. 
Everyone in town was at the parade so there was no one to worry about running into and it sort of kept her out of sight of Grayson until she had almost caught up with him.  She wasn’t sure she could stand it if he took off running in the opposite direction when he saw her.
\

    When she reached the end of the walkway, sweat ran down her back soaking her baby blue tee shirt.  Her curls that had been neatly secured earlier in a knot popped out in all directions.  She was certain her face was flushed and she probably smelled like sweat and farm animals- she had never changed after the morning chores- but none of the seemed to matter as long as she got to make things right with Grayson.

    He was barely fifteen feet ahead of her when she heard herself call out to him. 

    “Grayson?”

     He stopped moving but didn’t turn around.  When he spoke his tone was cordial, but Jennie thought she could hear a hint of hope.

      “What do you want, Jennie Marshall?”

      “I want… no, I need to talk to you.  It won’t take long, I promise.”

    
  He turned around to face her, his eyes expressionless.  “It’s a free
country.  So,
talk.
”

    
Jennie quickly closed the distance between them.  They stood in the middle of the sidewalk under the cover of a large gum tree, staring at each other.  Her mouth, parched from her run, wouldn’t no matter how much she willed her lips to move so they just stood there for what seemed like hours.

   Finally, Grayson spoke.  “I don’t have much time.
My plane leaves this afternoon.”

    “This… this afternoon?”  She finally stuttered in a voice barely above a whisper.  “Oh, Grayson… why?”
     “Why what?”  He snapped, aggravated.

      “Why … why are you leaving now?  I was such a … fool…”

      His eyes flashed with anger and then suddenly softened as he gazed down on her.

      “Yeah, you were but that’s all in the past.  I have to go.  I have to fight for causes I believe in and I believe in our freedom.”

     She licked her dry lips, forcing enough moisture into them to allow her to speak again.  “I know, I know you do.  I didn’t mean… Oh, damn!  I can’t seem to say what I want to say.”  She stomped her foot against the concrete of the sidewalk and then instantly winced in pain as she realized shin splints were beginning to settle from her run down the street in nothing more than rubber flip flops.

     “There’s really nothing
to
say, Jennie.  You have made yourself perfectly clear in your feelings.  I understand completely. There are no ill feelings and I wish you well.”

     He turned and started walking again but she grabbed his arm.

     “Wait!  I have something I need to say!  Please!”

     He stopped moving again.  “What is it Jennie?  And spare me the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ speech.  I will never be like Michael McKee and honestly I have no desire to either.  If that’s the type of man you want to be with then I was
wrong about you anyway.”  This time he turned and almost stomped away, his shoulders tense and stiff.

     “You were right!”  She called after him.  “You were right about everything.  He is not the right man for me.  He and Trisha deserve each other and I hope they stay together forever!”

      Grayson froze mid-step but didn’t turn back around.  “Is that it?  Is that all you came here to say?  Because you could have saved yourself a trip, I’ve always known I was right about him.”

      “But you weren’t right about me.”  Her words were timid.  “I’m sorry I let you go that day.  I have been so broken for so long, I don’t even know how to interact with anyone on a personal level.  The things you said, they frighten
ed me,
I didn’t know what to do.  I have had myself convinced for so long that
I didn’t need anyone, that relationships were messy and only ended in heartbreak that I wasn’t ready to hear that anyone disagreed with me.  I’m sorry, Grayson.  I really am.”

     Her words broke as she dropped her head and turned to head back towards Main Street.  She had said her piece,
told him she was sorry for hurting him and that was all she could hope to accomplish.  That was enough.  It had to be.

    Jennie was completely shocked when a strong hand settled on her shoulder and turned her around.

    Grayson’s eyes were clear with the slightest hint of moisture threatening to break free.  “You do realize that I am about to get on a plane and end up in a war zone?  I have no idea when… or if … I will be back…”

     “I know…”

     “So, why now?  Why tell me all of this now?  You could have said something sooner.”

     “Would it have made a difference?  Would it have kept you from enlisting?  I don’t think so.”

      He was quiet for a moment.  “No, I don’t guess it would have.  This is something I have to do.”

    “I know it is.  But I didn’t want you to leave without my making things right.  I wanted to apologize, let you know how wrong I have been.”

    They just stood there, under the old gum tree staring into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity before Grayson spoke again.  “Well, I guess it’s about time you
came to your senses.”  And then he leaned down and kissed her, a gentle yet firm press of his lips to hers.  It was over before she could think to wrap her arms around his neck and cling to him, begging him not to leave.  He stepped away, his eyes bright and his crooked smile making her want to kiss him again.

    “I’ll be back Jennie.  I promise I will.  I won’t ask you to wait for me but I’ll be prayin’ that you do.  I’ll write to you, help you remember me some.  I love you Jennie Marshall!”  He was gone in flash, his long legs carrying him around the corner and out of her sight before she could so much as whisper “I love you, too, Grayson Jennings. 
Please
come back.”

20.

   Fall turned into winter and before Jennie knew it Thanksgiving was just around the corner.  She hadn’t heard from Grayson since the day of the parade and she didn’t reall
y
expect to
anymore
.  In the weeks after his departure to boot camp Jennie checked the mailbox each day, a slight flutter in her chest as she opened the box and skimmed
through the stack of junk mail hoping for just one special letter that never came.  After a
while her focus switched to getting the farm ready for winter; stocking feed for the
animals, pulling up the rest of
the fall harvest and storing of equipment and things they wouldn’t need again until spring.

    The winds blew in a fall chill with a hint that snow might not be so far off.  In the Blue Ridge Mountains winters were harsh- bone chilling cold
and plenty of the icy white stuff.
  There was no time for entertaining fleeting thoughts of love lost.
  Jennie shivered against the cold, her breath coming in warm puffs in the the chilly air
of the barn.  As she dragged a r
oll of chicken wire across the floor to stack against the wall until spring when she wo
u
ld redo the chicken coop, she passed Old Bessie’
s stall.  The space has
stood empty since the day her beloved animal died.  They probably should think about getting another milking cow.  Store bough
t
milk was never quite the same the freshly gathered version.  Besides, she had been researching Momma’s illness and many people seemed to believe that organic and all natural, unprocessed foods were best for maintaining her remission and staying as healthy as possible for as long as possible.
  She would definitely have to look into getting a new cow.  Bessie’s stall has been empty for long enough, it was time to move on.

    Just like everything else in her life has moved on.

   A muscle tweaked in her back a
nd she cursed under her breath. 
Jennie had learned quite a few colorful words working at the paper mill.  Factory workers were not known for being quiet and polite, that’s for sure. 
Emphasis on the polite part
.  Jennie was constantly fighting off
unwanted advances, sometimes having to fight harder than other times.

    The roll of wire shifted as she hit a loose board and a sharp edge dug into the skin
of her hand
drawing blood.  Wiping the scratch against her work jeans, she gave the roll of wire one last good tug and leaned it against the wall of the barn.  The sound of tires out on the dirt road caught her attention.  Uncle Tommy must have come for his daily visit.  Momma still rarely left the property but Uncle Tommy came by almost every single day to see her.  They often disappeared into Momma’s room for at least an hour.  Jennie tried hard not to think about what they were doing behind that closed door- it only reminded her of how lonely she was.  Her twenty first birthday was still six months away, she was young by anybody’s standards, but she had
no close friends
, nothing to fill those lonely nights or long empty weekends.

   
Grabbing a bucket of chicken feed she r
an out the door at the back of the barn
and over to the chicken house.  Spreading a layer of feed on the hard, cold ground she watched for a minute a herd of hens fought to get as many kernels as the could as quickly as possible before running back to the little red shed Daddy and she had built together when she was ten.  It needed a coat of paint and some fresh chicken wire but otherwise it stood strong as ever providing shelter to the flock.

    
The repairs would have to wait until spring.  Hugging herself and rubbing her hands up and down her arms to stimulate warmth, she jogged back into the barn securing the back door behind her.  It was time to start getting the turkey ready to cook for Thanksgiving dinner the next day.  Uncle Tommy was coming for dinner with his son.  It would be jus the four of them but Jennie wanted a traditional meal with all the fixings.  It would be the first Thanksgiving dinner since Daddy died.  Momma would help but the day of cooking and serving and cleaning up
would be too much for her even on her best day so Jennie herself was going to spearhead the entire thing.  She had perused dozens of magazines gathering recipes and practicing dishes in the evenings.  They would have the perfect holiday feast, she was sure of it.

    Just as she thought, her uncle’s truck sat in the middle of the driveway next to Daddy’s old
blue
truck.  In the two and a half years since his death, John Marshall’s truck had never moved from its final parking place.  Small patches of rust had begun to form, evidence of the elements finally bearing down on the vehicle that was a decade older than she was.
  It stood as a shrine to the man who’s dream she struggled to maintain, a reminder that her choices were not in vain- they were for him, in honor of his great memory.  Every time she looked at it she was reminded of their last ride together down the bumpy dirt road the day Michael and Trisha had shared their news with her.