Missing in Action (7 page)

Gordy walked all the way to Jay's house, even though it was out of his way. “Don't you have to get home?” Jay asked him.

“Naw. My parents don't pay any attention to what I do. I drive 'em crazy when I'm home. They say I talk too much. I don't know why they'd say such a thing. You never noticed it, did you?” He grinned.

It was turning out that Jay liked Gordy about as much as any friend he'd ever had.

When he walked into the house, he was a little worried. Mom was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with Grandma. “Aren't you awful late?” she said. But she wasn't mad. He could tell from her voice.

“The game was going good. I didn't want to quit and mess up our team.” He had thought it over and decided that was how he'd explain it. It was true, too.

“Going
well
,” Mom said.

He nodded.

“You told me before that it didn't matter if you left, that you couldn't play very well anyway.”

He could tell that Grandma had been baking bread. The smell was thick in the kitchen. He liked seeing his mom this way—not so mad and nervous and everything.

“I'm getting to be a better player,” he told her.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I got some hits tonight and made some good plays in the field. I'm the second baseman now. Gordy said I won the position by playing so good.” He didn't dare say that he was going to make it to the major leagues.

“That's nice,” Grandma said. “Have you gotten to like these boys down here?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

Jay could see how pleased his mother was. She was leaning with her chin in her hand, but smiling. It was hot in the house, but she looked relaxed, like the heat wasn't bothering her as much as it had at first.

“Well, go get a bath,” Mom said. “You've got dirt all over you. Once you're cleaned up, maybe Grandma will cut a slice of bread for you.”

He noticed that his mother had been eating a slice of bread with chokecherry jelly. Grandma must have opened one of the last jars. She always said there wasn't much left from the year before, and not much sugar to make any this year.

Mom was smiling, maybe because she saw him staring at the bread and jelly, or maybe about his dirty shirt. She was wearing an old brown housedress she put on when she got home from work at nights, and her hair had come loose from where it had been wound up in back. It looked nice that way, especially with her eyes looking so soft. He wished she would be like that all the time. He remembered how nice she'd been, back when he was little. Back before so many things happened.

He took a bath and got his pajamas on, and then he ate his bread and jelly with Mom and Grandma. After, he went to his bedroom in the back of the house. There was a little air moving through the open windows, not exactly cool, but nice. Outside he could hear the crickets putting up a racket, the way they did
every night. He didn't want to go to bed. He wished he could have sat around with Gordy for a while, and they could have talked more about making it to the majors. He liked what Gordy had said about him being a good player because of his dad.

Jay got out some comic books and sat on his bed. He'd read them all lots of times, but he thought he'd look through them again. After a while Mom showed up at his bedroom door. “Jay, you better get to sleep,” she said. “Aren't you working in the morning?”

“No. Ken can't come over for a couple of days, and we got the hay all put up anyway.”

“Well, that's good. I hate to see you have to work so hard all the time. You still seem like a little boy to me.” She leaned against the door frame. She was still looking sort of peaceful.

“I don't mind working too much.”

“I know you don't like to work with a Jap. I'm sorry you have to do that.”

He thought about saying that Ken wasn't so bad, but he didn't. He rested his back against the headboard of the big old bed. Everything in the room was old-fashioned: the big chest of drawers, the table by his bed, the rolltop desk and chair—all of it made out of dark wood with fancy carving. He sort of liked everything that way. In Salt Lake, his parents hadn't had much furniture. They'd had to make do however they could.

“Well, anyway, you probably ought to—”

“Mom, was dad a really good ballplayer?”

“You mean baseball?”

“Any sport.”

She walked in and sat down on the bed, but she didn't twist around. She looked across the room toward the window, where the breeze was blowing the white curtains. “He played baseball, but he got into some kind of quarrel with his high school coach, so he quit. But I think football was his best sport anyway.”

“Was he a star at football?”

“Well, I guess he was pretty good. He played at West High in Salt Lake, and then he made the team at the University of Utah. That's when I met him, when he was on the freshman team. But after that season, he decided to quit college and get a job. He just didn't have enough money to keep going.”

“Did you graduate from college?”

“No, honey, I didn't. I about broke Grandma and Grandpa's hearts when I quit. My brothers and my sister all finished. Your uncle Max even has a master's degree. Not many people from down here go to college, but my parents always said they wanted us kids to go.”

“Why did you quit?”

“I don't know. I didn't study the way I should have, and I didn't really like college that much. I finished my
second year, but I was spending way too much time with your dad. He finally talked me into marrying him. Grandpa liked him all right, but he didn't think he was a very good choice for a husband, and I guess that made him seem all the better to me.”

“How come?”

“I don't know, honey. Young people get to an age where they want to be independent. Anything their parents tell them
not
to do seems just the thing they want. Do you know what I mean?”

“I don't know.” He was surprised. His mother had never said anything like that. It was like she thought he was growing up.

Mom twisted to look at him. “Well, don't get it in your head that it's a good idea. Don't be the way I was. I grew up down here, where things were pretty simple, but I got to the university and I started to think my parents didn't know much. Gary wasn't a Mormon, and that bothered Grandpa, but to me, he was exciting. He really knew how to have a good time. I hadn't ever known anyone quite like him.”

Maybe later on she was sorry she married him. Jay thought about asking her if she had been, but he was afraid what she might say. “If Dad had stayed in college, do you think he would have been a star player?”

Mom looked away again, and he heard her take a long breath. “I don't know, Jay. He probably would
have gotten into an argument with that coach too—or something would have happened. And then he would have quit. That happened to him a lot with the jobs he had. He'd do all right for a while, and then he'd get so he didn't like the people he worked for. He was out of work a lot. You know that.”

Jay remembered that more than anything—how worried they always were about money. Dad was home a lot in the daytime, and Mom was the one at work. “He tried to find jobs,” he said.

“Or at least he said he did.”

“He did try. I know he did.”

Her head came around fast. “Jay, you don't have to—” But she stopped. She turned back and took a breath. She didn't sound mad when she said, “Your dad was restless, Jay. Maybe he couldn't help that. But he always wanted some kind of change. And then, when he was feeling tied down, he would drink too much. You know how things were.”

Jay did remember him drinking, and he remembered how angry his dad could get. And some of the things he'd done. “He didn't drink all the time,” he said.

“Oh, no. I don't want you to think that. He could be the sweetest man who ever lived. And remember that big laugh of his? Remember how much fun we had that time we drove up to Yellowstone and stayed in those little cabins up there?”

Jay nodded. He loved to remember that trip. He and his dad had fished in Yellowstone Lake and caught big trout. He had a picture of the two of them, standing in front of the log cabin they had rented. Between them they held a long string of trout, some of them almost half as tall as Jay had been.

“Honey, we all have weaknesses. We all make mistakes. I'm trying not to remember so many of them. I want to remember the
best
things.”

“He was nice to me. He taught me to play ball and everything.”

Her head turned slowly toward him, and she gave him a long look—like she didn't believe that. She did that too much, always talking about the bad things Dad had done, even if she was talking different tonight.

“I think we have to learn from the things that happen to us, honey. And then do better. I want you to remember the good things about your dad, but I want you to be stronger. I want you to be more like Grandpa. Do you know what I mean?”

“I guess so.” He watched the curtains blowing out, filling with air, then drifting back to the window again. It was good to feel some air moving in his room.

“You know how the people are at church. How they live, and how they talk and everything. Don't you want to be more like that?”

“Dad won medals in the war,” he said. “Grandpa never did that.”

“What medals?”

“You told me he got some medals. Because he was brave in the war.”

“No, honey. It wasn't that. They were just what they call service medals—for participating in certain campaigns and things like that.”

“You told me he was brave.”

“Well, I think he
was
brave. But the medals weren't for that.”

He tried to remember. He was sure that was what Mom had said. Now she was changing everything.

“I want you to be proud of your dad, Jay. He was willing to go and serve. We have to be proud of all our servicemen who are fighting for us.”

“But he's brave. Not all those guys get medals.”

She reached out a hand toward him. “Come here a sec.” He didn't know what she wanted, but he crawled to her and she put her arm around him. “I just wish we knew for sure what's happened to him,” she said.

He didn't like it when she said that. “He's all right, Mom. He can take whatever the Japs dish out. He'll come home to us.”

“Maybe, honey. But I think we have to be ready for whatever comes. Do you know what I mean?”

He pulled back from her. “Grandpa said we have to have faith. I pray every night for him. You have to do that, Mom. You have to have faith too.”

“Sure, honey. But people die in war. That's just the
way it is. Every family prays, but Heavenly Father can't bring all the boys home.”

“Maybe some families have more faith. You have to pray every day. Grandpa said so.”

“I do pray, Jay.” She took hold of his arms, just above the elbows. “But part of faith is trusting God, honey. We have to accept whatever happens. I know you have bad memories from the way your dad treated you sometimes, and from some of the things he—”

“Don't talk about him that way.”

“Jay, you know what we went through.”

“He was nice to me. Lots of times.”

“All right, honey. It's good you feel that way. You know that I love him too.”

But she didn't really love Dad as much as she should. She shouldn't say those things about him drinking beer and losing his jobs. He was brave, and he was a star football player. He was a good father. “You need to keep praying,” was all Jay could think to say.

“I do, honey. I do.” But now she had started to cry. He didn't want that, didn't want her to go back to her sadness and her grouchiness, but she needed to know that he wasn't going to let her talk that way about his dad.

THE FOURTH OF JULY CAME
on a Sunday, so the celebration in Delta was put off until Monday. Gordy came by for Jay that morning, and they walked into town. There was going to be a parade at nine o'clock that would come down Main Street. He had seen the Covered Wagon Days parade in Salt Lake; it had lasted for hours. He couldn't imagine that such a little town could come up with much, but at least some of the boys had a few firecrackers, hard as they were to get these days. Gordy said he was going to set some off and try to scare some of the girls they knew.

When he and Gordy reached Main Street, it was just after eight thirty, and not many people had come into town yet. “Let's walk down the street and see if we can spot Lew or any of the other guys,” Gordy said.

“I know who you're really looking for,” Jay said.

“Who?”

“Elaine Gleed.”

Gordy turned and punched him in the shoulder. But then he surprised Jay by saying, “How did you know?”

“ 'Cause you love her.”

“You can't blame me for that,” he said. “The girl's a looker.” He grinned with those giant front teeth of his, looking sort of goofy, but pleased with himself. “Have you seen how her and her friends have been coming around every night lately? I figure she's there to get a look at me.”

Jay laughed. “I wouldn't bet on it.”

“Why not? I'm the best player. Even a girl can tell that.”

“Those girls are just looking around for something to do.”

“Yeah. And maybe every one of 'em's got it bad for me. It wouldn't surprise me. In case you haven't noticed, I'm awful good-looking.” He stopped and struck a pose, showing his profile.

“You're right about one thing. I
haven't
noticed.” This was something new. Jay usually didn't joke much.

“You better watch it, Chief. You mess with me and I'll scalp you.” He jumped and got him in a headlock, grabbed some of his hair, and pretended that he was hacking away at it. But Jay's temper fired; he swung him around and threw him off.