Jennifer Robins (4 page)

Rachael stood when the show signed off and, before climbing the stairs to her bedroom, said good night to her parents who sat close together holding hands.

It was hard to fall asleep after a day of more than just excitement and a scary episode of The Shadow. Rachael sat straight up in bed with her hands folded in front of her wondering what the next day would bring. Pleasant thoughts danced in her head until she fell fast asleep.

Saturday meant cleaning the house and getting the laundry done. Rachael had her appointed chores as usual and didn’t complain about them. She planned to get started right after breakfast. Shivering like crazy, she pulled her nightgown off and hurried to dress in her warm red flannel shirt and a cotton skirt she loved to wear when at home. She rolled up the long sleeves and hurried downstairs to the hot oatmeal she was sure her mother had prepared.

“Where’s Dad?” she asked as she entered the large kitchen and found her mother alone.

Grace stood at the stove stirring the hot cereal, but turned to answer. “He went to meet with the man at the factory about that job they have open. It looks pretty good that he’ll get it.”

“That’s good. I hope he does.” Rachael said while approaching the stove. “Is this done?” she asked, pointing to the cooking pot.

“Yes, reach up and get yourself a bowl.”

“Any sweet surprises in it this morning?”

“No…not this morning…ran out of surprises.”

The day was underway and Rachael met it with enthusiasm that ran through her very soul. The sun shone outside and no new snow had fallen, but it was still very cold. With a bowl of hot oatmeal under her belt, she went to the living room to begin her weekly chore of dusting and sweeping the rug. She hummed a little tune she was fond of as she moved along from one piece of furniture to the other while thinking of her visit from Stan coming that evening. Would he be on time? Would he be dressed nicely, hair combed, shaved and neat-looking? She so wanted him to make a good impression on her parents.

Finished in the living room, she went down to the basement to help her mother with the laundry. Her job was to hang everything that had been washed clean, and put through the ringer to be squeezed out as thoroughly as possible. Her mother stood at the washing machine feeding every piece of the laundry, big or small, through the double rollers while turning the handle on the side of it. She then placed the items in the laundry basket on the floor beside her for Rachael to take charge of.

Two loads, then three, and they were almost done. The day was moving along at a great pace which made Rachael happy.
The faster the better.
Eight o’clock seemed so far away and she was anxious for it to arrive. She wanted enough time to bathe, spray on some of the cologne her mother had given her, and fix her hair in a fresh braid. She’d place those fancy combs with little sparkly rhinestones that she'd gotten the previous Christmas at the sides above her ears. They set off her bright eyes and framed her face. Christmas… it wouldn’t be long. Next week. Maybe she could invite Stan to dinner, if he didn't have other plans.
He never mentioned a family.
There was so much she wanted to know about him. Everything… good or bad.

Late afternoon, when the work was all done, Rachael had the time she wanted to relax, bathe, and get ready for an exciting evening. As she lay soaking in the tub, she pictured what it would be like when Stan appeared at the door and her father was sitting in his chair in the living room waiting to check him out. What if Dad didn't like him? It played out in her mind right down to what words would be spoken. Her mother would come into the room and with a smile welcome Stan into her home. Stan would be so gracious…he’d take her hand and embrace it.

Feeling on top of the world, with a towel wrapped around her, she made her way to her bedroom. She was so sure everything would be wonderful with this visit; she continued to fantasize about it with a wide smile on her face.

Three hours to go. Dinner, then help Mom clean the kitchen
,
and then talk to Dad about Stan to kind of prepare him ahead of time. Maybe give him a little
advice
to be nice and courteous
.

“I don’t know why I worry so about Dad,” she told her mother while they stood at the sink washing dishes. “I really want him to like Stan. I’m pretty sure you will. Right?”

Her mother gave Rachael’s hand a little pat. “Of course I’ll like your friend and so will your father. So stop worrying about it.” She pointed to the pot on the stove. “Hand me that pot so I can get done with these dishes.”

With a little sigh Rachael handed her the pot and went on, with dish towel in hand, to dry the dishes her mother had stacked on the counter.

“Does your friend like tea?” Mom asked.

“I don’t know. He drank coffee at lunch yesterday. Why? Do you want to make tea for him?”

“I was just thinking of that spiced tea I’ve been saving for a special occasion. It’s flavored with cinnamon, cloves and I think some citrus.”

“Sounds like a little Christmas in that tea. We can ask when he gets here and settles down. He might be a little nervous, you know.”

“Can’t be any more nervous than you are,” Mom said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I guess I am a little.”

The women finished in the kitchen. Grace removed her apron, hung it up on the hook by the back door, and they were both off to the living room.

Rachael made a detour to the stairs. She wanted to go freshen up before Stan arrived.

She remembered her prom night when her date had to be dropped off at the school by his parents the same as she had. They'd met at the door to the gymnasium where the dance was held. James had been okay but a bit on the shy side, and he was also a boring bookworm. He'd had his face in a book every time she’d see him during school hours and even outside sitting on the concrete wall along the walkway where students lingered after classes were over. He’d asked her to be his date before any of the other more popular boys did and she hadn't had the heart to turn him down.

She sprayed a little cologne behind her ear, stared in the mirror over her dresser with lips puckered to make sure her lipstick was not smeared. A little tuck of a strand of hair that came loose and she was on her way downstairs.

Both of her parents sat in the living room watching as she came down the stairs. She knew she looked like she was going out on a date instead of receiving a visitor. Her father grinned with pride as he took in her appearance. Her mother only smiled.

Rachael sat by the front window and positioned herself so she could see the walkway up to the porch. Snow flew through the air in large flakes, making it difficult to see beyond the front of the house to the extended sidewalk. Almost eight, and Rachael sat nervously awaiting her guest.

Conditions outside became worse and the snow began to pile up. She gazed out the window in search of her visitor. Eight o’clock came and went and still no Stan. It had to be the weather, she thought as she continued to watch.

Eight-thirty, then nine, and she was fidgeting in her seat. Her father peered over at her with a frown. “It’s pretty bad out there. Can’t blame the guy if he couldn’t make it.”

She turned to him. “I know, but I thought he’d come just the same. He’s used to traveling in this kind of weather. He’s just a little late is all.”

By ten, her mother came over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Your young man may have had a hard time getting here because of the snow. Why don’t you wait until you hear from him again to find out what happened?”

“I guess you’re right, but I’d like to wait a little longer, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, but don’t keep your hopes up too high. It’s getting late.”

Her father stood up and stretched his arms up over his head while yawning. “You girls can wait up, but I’m going off to bed.”

Her father looked tired. In the winter he always retired early. Sometimes Mom liked to stay up and listen to the radio until midnight.

Rachael was not used to staying up late, but tonight gave her reason to stay up longer than usual. Would he still get there? At this hour, she had reason to believe he would not.

What could have caused him to abandon his visit and leave her waiting? She pondered over it as she lay in bed once the clock struck eleven. Sadness crept over her like a dark blanket of tears. She wept when she considered he may have changed his mind and decided not to come after all. She buried her face in the pillow and tried not to cry. Disappointments in her life had been plentiful, but this one really hurt. She had so looked forward to spending the evening with Stan and having her parents meet him. Now, who knew when she’d see or hear from him again?

Could he hav
e had a change of mind about me? If so, was it something I said, something I
did?
He seemed to like me enough. But, maybe
F
ather was right and it was because of the weather, that awful snow out there.
She lay there, thinking of all the possibilities, the blankets tucked up around her neck.

Sleep was slow in coming.

A stream of morning sunlight filtered in through the bedroom window, lighting on Rachael’s face, waking her. She turned her head to avoid it and snuggled up to her pillow wanting the new day to go away, but the sudden thought of the night before brought her to realization and she opened her eyes. Sunday, church, Mom’s Sunday dinner. Yawning, she sat up, pushing the blankets away from her. She hugged herself, shivered a little, then rose from the bed.

Rachael hurried to the window to view a clear sky and sunshine. The snow had stopped. Why couldn’t it have been this way yesterday, she thought, as she ventured to the closet for the clothes she’d wear for the day.

What was her mother fixing for breakfast, she wondered as she went down the stairs. She knew at thirty-eight cents a pound, bacon was not an option. Eggs, on the other hand, were more affordable at eighteen cents a dozen. Scrambled eggs in a little bit of lard served with a slice of toast was a great start for a nice sunny Sunday. She felt hungry just thinking about it.

When Rachel walked into the kitchen, her mother stood at the counter cutting oranges in half. She turned to her daughter. “Did you sleep well?”

“All right, I guess. Had a hard time falling asleep, but once I did, I never woke back up until this morning.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s sleeping in this morning.”

“What, no church?”

“Not today. That snow last night has all the streets blocked and we don’t know when it will be cleared. Best we stay at home. He’ll have enough trouble shoveling the porch and sidewalks.” She moved to the stove where the box of eggs sat ready for their destiny in the frying pan. “Get the cups down for coffee and set the table. I’ll be calling your father down for breakfast now. He’ll want something warm in his stomach before going out in the cold.”

“I’ll help him. We have two shovels,” Rachael told her as she set the glasses on the table.

“Do you still feel bad about your friend not coming last night?” Mother asked.

“Yes, I do, but I can’t let it bother me.”

“You know, Rachael, we had quite a bad storm last night. Your father may very well be right about your friend not getting here because of the weather.”

“I suppose so, but I was looking forward to his visit. Now I won’t know what happened to him until I run into him again downtown. I didn’t give him our phone number. He has no other way of contacting me other than there or by coming to the house, which I don’t expect.”

“Do you know where he’ll be tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure because he was delivering newspapers to the department stores but he was offered a better job at Maybees. I don’t know when he’ll start there and there is no way to get a hold of him on his route.”

“Well, don’t worry… if he really wants to see you again, he’ll find you.” Her mother set the frying pan aside and left the kitchen to go call her sleeping husband. Rachael finished setting the table while she was gone.

Her dad wore a tired-looking face and strolled over to the coffee pot for his morning brew. Rachael knew it was because of her he stayed up so late and she felt bad about it. She’d get out there and do most of the snow shoveling to pay him back for his tolerance.

He scratched his head as he brought his cup of coffee to the table. Her mother poured the scrambled eggs into the frying pan and sprinkled a little salt on them. It would soon be time to venture outside into a very cold winter Sunday.

It wasn’t that long ago, Rachael had loved going out on a snowy day, to build a snow man, make angels, and throw snowballs at the trees. She recalled as a child how Dad had pulled her in the sled she got for Christmas. She must have been eight or maybe seven that year. Tommy, the boy next door, had sometimes spoiled the fun by showing up long enough to smash snow in her face and make her cry, but Tommy was now moved away and good riddance. Memories of her childhood and Christmas’s long past floated through her mind as she prepared to go out and shovel snow.

They dressed in warm coats, heavy gloves, knitted hats, and put scarves around their necks. Rachael took the small shovel and trudged through the deep snow toward the sidewalk. Her father took on the porch, starting with the snow drift piled up by the front window.

The street was still covered with snow, not ready for driving. Neighbors on both sides of the street had joined in the sidewalk cleaning and waved to one another as they started the task at hand.

Putting every effort into shoveling the narrow sidewalk, Rachael paused when she spotted a man some distance away, coming toward them. She leaned on the shovel to watch as he appeared to be headed her way. Could it be Stan? She hoped it was, but the man suddenly turned into a house several doors from hers and went inside. With a sad sigh, she resumed what she was out there for, to remove the snow.

When her father finished with the porch, he came down to help her. Soon they had accomplished the chore and went inside.