Everything She Ever Wanted (3 page)

When Tom tried to explain that boys needed some discipline so that they

would grow into good men, Pat gently reminded him that Ronnie was her

child, and that she knew best.

Ronnie adored his mother; there were no lengths to which he wouldn't go

to please her.
 
If she voiced a wish, Ronnie would carry out her

bidding.
 
His devotion didn't stop him from getting into trouble, like

getting drunk and wrecking cars and doing other things not sanctioned

by the law, but he didn't want any of it to disturb his mother.
 
If she

was hurting too bad and needed pain medication, Ronnie always found a

way to get it for her.
 
If someone wounded her feelings and needed a

reminder not to do that, Ronnie took care of that too.

Not everything in their new life went smoothly, of course-but Tom was

so happy nothing much bothered him.
 
On Christmas Day 1973, he went to

take a big gelding out of the barn and it came out running full tilt.

He held on, but even his weight didn't stop the spooked horse and it

dragged him along, fracturing his right collarbone.
 
For a blacksmith,

it was a bothersome injury and kept him off work.

Pat was jealous of Tom's wife, whom everybody called "Little Carolyn"

since his mother's name was Carolyn too.
 
Of course, she was called

"Big Carolyn."
 
If the truth be told, Tom was kind of proud that Pat

was so jealous of him, even though, Lord knew, she had no cause to

be.

Little Carolyn was pretty, but she was nothing compared to Pat.
 
Pat

was a perfect lady and was beautiful and fiery and her kisses tasted

like honey.
 
He was eager to get his divorce.

Pat refused to have anything around her that might remind Tom of Little

Carolyn.
 
"I remember I came home once," Tom said later, "and something

came flying out the door and shattered on the sidewalk.
 
It was a

brand-new J. C. Penney's radio.
 
It had been in my bedroom and it

belonged to me, but as far as Pat was concerned it belonged to Carolyn,

and she wasn't having anything of Carolyn's in the house.
 
She just

pitched it out.

She hated Carolyn so bad, she even tried to say once that my children

weren't mine-that they were my father's children, that they'd had an

affair while I was married to Carolyn."

Tom didn't believe Pat meant that about his kids.
 
She often talked

about bringing Russ and Sherry to live with them and how she would be

their mother.

It was Just that Pat was so highstrung that she sometimes said things

she didn't mean.

Still, she wouldn't allow Tom to display pictures of his children in

her house.

The divorce from Little Carolyn dragged on and on, and Pat cried with

frustration.
 
She wanted to be married to Tom, not just living with

him.
 
But a hearing in early spring of 1974 ended, not in Tom's final

decree, but in another postponement.
 
After realizing that Tom and

Little Carolyn Allanson were far, far apart on monetary agreement, the

judge said, "I will not grant a divorce at this time."
 
Hearing that,

Pat turned white and dug her fingernails into Tom's arm.
 
She made it

out of the De Kalb County Courthouse but she fainted on the front

lawn.

Someone screamed and paramedics were summoned.

Gradually she came around and Tom half led, half carried her out of the

crowd that had gathered.
 
He wondered how much more of this kind of

strain she could take.

And then, suddenly, It was all right, as if Pat and Tom's love was

somehow blessed.
 
On May 9, 1974, Tom had yet another divorce

hearing.

He expected one more delay and the hearing seemed mostly an irritant.

Tom and Pat were scheduled to be at a Morgan horse show in Stone

Mountain, Georgia, that evening.

Pat had decreed that they would go to Stone Mountain as "Scarlett and

Rhett" and had busied herself making their costumes.
 
Dressing up and

slipping into another persona never failed to cheer her up; it was

almost as if she could step out of her own life into an existence she

craved.
 
And everyone always raved about how clever she was as a

seamstress.
 
She knew she and Tom would be the hit of the Stone

Mountain show.
 
She had chosen royal blue as the Kentwood Morgan Farm's

show colors, and their chairs, tents, and blankets all matched.

Pat's gown was white with a sweetheart neckline, puffed sleeves, and a

voluminous hoop skirt.
 
She would wear white gloves, white feathers in

her hair, and she would suspend her favorite gold-rimmed cameo from a

moire ribbon around her slender neck.
 
When she posed for Tom in her

costume, he stepped up and circled her tiny waist with his two hands.

She had never looked more beautiful, and she knew it.

Tom felt a little foolish when he saw his costume, but he
                                                                             
           

shrugged and tried it on: a black cutaway coat with tails, a white

satin vest over a shirt with ruffles at the neck and wrists, and a top

hat.
 
Pat even had a fake mustache for him to stick on.

Standing in front of a long mirror together, they looked as if they had

just returned to Zebulon through some dusty curtain in time.
 
They also

looked incredibly like Scarlett and Rhett, and Pat was elated.

They were both thrilled beyond words when Tom's divorce, at long last,

was granted that very day.
 
They quickly reserved a chapel at Stone

Mountain for their wedding.
 
But nothing in Pat's life ever seemed to

happen without fanfare.
 
Her wedding to Tom was no exception.
 
It made

headlines.
 
A slightly sentimental reporter for the Griffin Daily News

related that Pat and Tom had not only met "cute," they had married

"cute."
 
Under the headline THEY WERE DETERMINED TO GET MARRIED, a

threecolumn spread described the nuptials: "Pat Radcliffe and Tom

Allanson had an unusual wedding, to say the least.

Pat had explained to the reporter that she and Tom had known each other

for fifteen years-ever since the day she had called Tom as a last

minute replacement for her regular blacksmith.
 
They had not gotten

along at all, Pat laughed, since she was a specialist in Morgan horses

and Tom preferred quarter horses.
 
However, she had won him over.

"When Pat was stricken and confined to bed, Tom became a regular

caller," the reporter wrote.
 
"And from that came wedding bells.
 
'She

moves about so much that it was the first time I had to catch her,' Tom

beamed the other day."

The Griffin feature story did not mention that Tom's divorce was brand

spanking new.
 
It didn't mention any other marriages for either the

bride or groom, only the romantic and chaotic details of May 9, 1974.

Pat and Tom had engaged the chapel for a 2:00

P.m. wedding, and rented "one motel room" for that night.

"Tom was taking a van loaded with horses to the show when he had a

blowout.
 
Another tire went and he was stranded on a busy interstate

near Atlanta," the paper reported.
 
"He made his way to a service

station.
 
As chance would have it, someone passing by knew where he

could get two large tires for the van.

"Tom's bride-to-be was waiting at the chapel in Stone Mountain when the

ceremony time arrived.
 
He sent word that he had run into trouble and

would be late.
 
By the time word reached Pat, she already had guessed

that something had gone wrong.
 
The ceremony was canceled.

"When Tom finally got the van repaired and to the horse show, word had

spread among show people about what -had happened.
 
They suggested

since the show tents already were beautifully decorated, that one of

them be used for the wedding.
 
Tom and Pat agreed.

The Rev.
 
William Byington, a Baptist minister, was called.
 
He said

that in all of his many years in the ministry, he never had been called

on to perform a wedding ceremony under such circumstances.
 
But he

agreed to do so.
 
With show people looking on in one of the tents, he

asked Tom and Pat to pledge their love to each other in a standard and

simple ceremony."

Pat managed to get in several plugs for their new Kentwobd riding

facilities and mentioned that she would continue teaching riding at

Woodward Academy on the Riverdale campus.
 
She and her horses would

commute both ways daily.

"But back to the wedding story," the Griffin newspaper continued,

obviously pleased with such fascinating new residents of nearby Pike

County.
 
"The couple stopped at Western Sizzlin' Steak House for a

Sunday night meal.
 
When they had finished, Tom took the van and his

bride was to follow.
 
He pulled onto the expressway and moved slowly

into traffic.
 
He checked the rearview mirror to look for the vehicle

his wife was driving.
 
Tom heard a noise that sounded like a wreck.
 
He

stopped.

"Someone had had a collision with his wife and she lay inured in the

vehicle.
 
She was taken to the Griffin-Spaulding Hospital for

examination and treatment.
 
She was strapped up and told it would be

all right for her to go home.
 
But the pain in her shoulder

persisted.

Next day, she went to an Atlanta hospital, where it was learned she had

a broken collarbone.
 
She came home in a cast and has been in one

since.
 
. . . The newlyweds have managed to smile through it all and

are looking forward to establishing their farm home here."

The picture accompanying the piece was, of course, perfect for the