The Waltons 1 (15 page)

“Sit down, John-Boy. They’ll be gettin’ things ready. Jenny tells me you’ve been workin’ for the Baldwin sisters.”

John-Boy sat down. “Yes sir.”

“They still makin’ that Recipe of old Judge Baldwin’s?”

“Yes sir.”

Dave Pendleton lit a cigarette and smiled. “I only tasted it once. In fact it was with your dad about fifteen years ago. As I recall we were goin’ to look at some land out past the old Crater place, and your dad suggested we make a social call on the Baldwins as long as we were passin’ by.” He laughed. “And that was the end of that. We never did get past the Baldwins’. About midnight your dad slung me over his shoulder and carried me all the way home. I’ve often wondered if he really was interested in seein’ that land out there.”

He laughed again and John-Boy smiled and nodded, not sure what response was expected of him. He appreciated the humor, but he didn’t want to seem disrespectful toward his father.

Eula Pendleton came in with a silver tray filled with beef slices and John-Boy quickly came to his feet.

“Sit down, sit down, John-Boy. It’ll be a couple minutes yet.” She returned to the kitchen and John-Boy sat down.

“Jenny also tells me you’re gonna be a writer.”

“I’d like to.”

“You know, if you’re gettin’ the impression that Jenny tells me a lot about you, your impression is quite correct. Her principal topic of conversation is John-Boy Walton. Her second topic is the Walton family. And by the time she gets through talkin’ about all that, it’s usually past midnight and bedtime. In fact, since we’ve come back to Walton’s Mountain I haven’t been able to squeeze in two sentences with her.”

“Oh, Daddy, that’s not true!”

Both Jenny and her mother were bringing food in. John-Boy rose and was relieved when Dave Pendleton also came to his feet. They seated the ladies and returned to their chairs.

Dave Pendleton bowed his head. “Lord, we thank you for this food, and we especially thank you for John-Boy Walton’s presence. Now we won’t have to listen to Jenny talk about him anymore. Amen.”

“Oh, Daddy, what kind of a prayer is that?”

“Right from the heart, Jenny.”

Through the meal Dave Pendleton’s relaxed humor helped ease John-Boy’s tensions. And the happy smiles he got from Jenny were like rays of glorious sunshine. Eula Pendleton was as quiet as John-Boy, and appeared content to let her husband do the talking while she saw that everyone’s plate was full. After dessert Dave Pendleton pushed back his chair and grinned.

“John-Boy, while the servants here clean up the dishes, let’s you and me go out on the porch and get some air.”

“That’s not fair, Daddy,” Jenny protested.

“What do you mean it’s not fair? I think it’s my turn now. After he goes home I can come into your room and talk and talk all night about what a wonderful young man he is. And you can listen for a change. Come on. John-Boy.”

John-Boy would rather have stayed in the house within sight of Jenny, but there seemed to be no choice. Jenny made a face at her father and then hurried out of range from his playful swing at her rear.

Once they were on the porch Dave Pendleton stretched and looked around at the sky and the distant mountains before he sat down. “I think this is what I missed most livin’ in the city. Just sittin’ on a porch with nothin’ around but mountains and stars and crickets. It’s beautiful here, isn’t it, John-Boy.”

“Yes, it’s nice and quiet,” John-Boy agreed. But he sometimes wondered if the bustle of activity in the city might not be more interesting.

After a couple minutes of silence, Dave Pendleton looked off at the hills and smiled reflectively. “You know somethin’, John-Boy, the first time I was ever courtin’ seriously enough to go to a girl’s house for dinner it turned out to be the most embarrassing experience of my entire life.” He shook his head and chuckled to himself. “My mother told me one of the most important things was to be sure and tilt the soup bowl toward myself instead of away, toward the center of the table. Well, I was so nervous about doin’ everythin’ just right, I forgot that it wasn’t necessary to tip the soup bowl at all until I got down to the last drop of the stuff. So the minute the soup was served I reached for the bowl and tipped it.”

John-Boy smiled, picturing hot soup pouring onto the table. But Dave Pendleton held up his hand.

“Don’t laugh. That was embarrassing enough, but that was just the beginning, John-Boy. The soup was scaldin’ hot, and it landed right in my lap. Well, you can imagine how I was a little anxious to stand up and get rid of the stuff as fast as I could. Well, that’s what I did, and I think I broke a world’s record for anyone gettin’ on his feet. I’d say I accomplished it in just about the same instant the soup hit my pants.

“Well, it was fast, but the unfortunate thing was the direction of the movement was very poorly calculated. As quickly as I stood up, I also lifted my side of the table about a foot off the floor. And that action immediately put everyone else at the table into the same predicament I was in a half second earlier.”

Dave Pendleton shook his head sadly, and John-Boy couldn’t help laughing. It was easy for him to imagine himself in the same predicament.

Dave Pendleton started to go on, but then he too started laughing. When he finally caught his breath there were tears streaming down his face. “Somehow, I don’t think the girl’s mother and father were much impressed by my apologies. I think I said I was sorry about forty times—about twenty times while I followed them all to the bathroom, and then twenty more times after they went inside and slammed the door in my face.”

The picture of the whole family locked in a bathroom and a sixteen-year-old boy calling apologies through the door sent them both into another paroxysm of laughter.

“I’m tellin’ you, John-Boy,” Dave said through his tears, “it was the damnedest experience I ever had in my life. That was the first time I ever heard an adult woman swear like a coal miner. All dressed up like the Queen of England . . . with soup running down and dripping over her shoes . . . and the damnedest words you ever heard comin’ out of her mouth. John-Boy, some of those words I’ve never heard since.”

After another half minute of laughter, he said, “And the father couldn’t get a word out. I kept sayin’ I was sorry, and he just stared at me, openin’ and closin’ his mouth. For a minute I thought he was havin’ a heart attack.”

He shook his head again, as if unable to believe his own story. “I waited around outside the bathroom for about half an hour, but they never came out. So I went home.” He laughed again. “I never saw the girl again. The whole family moved away about two weeks later. I don’t think any of ’em came out of the house durin’ that whole two weeks. Maybe they never even came out of the bathroom.”

John-Boy didn’t realize he had been laughing so hard. That was the end of the story, but they both sat for several minutes, catching their breath. “I think I know how you felt,” John-Boy finally said.

“Well, mothers are great,” Dave Pendleton smiled. “But sometimes they can get you in all kinds of trouble.” He took a deep breath and let it out with a final laugh.

“You know, John-Boy, it’s funny bein’ a father of a daughter. You worry yourself sick wonderin’ if the poor girl is ever goin’ to have any boyfriends. Then the first one starts hangin’ around and you start worryin’ about too many of ’em showin’ up. Or you worry about her pickin’ the wrong one. And then you start worryin’ about your worryin’.” He laughed and closed his eyes. “John-Boy, your father is the finest man I know on this entire earth. And your family’s the best people I know. And I just can’t tell you how happy I am about you and Jenny hittin’ it off the way you have. I don’t think there’s anythin’ in the world that could make me. any happier than I am right now.”

John-Boy felt his skin flush from the top of his head down to his toes. He knew Dave Pendelton told him the story about the soup to put him at ease, and he appreciated it. But he never expected him to say anything like he had just said.

“That’s real nice of you to say that, Mr. Pendleton. And I expect I’d say the same thing about you and Mrs. Pendleton. And about Jenny, of course.” He felt his throat thickening. “And I expect right now I’m just about as happy as you are.”

Dave Pendleton smiled warmly at him. “Well, I guess that takes care of our obligations to have a heart-to-heart talk, young man.” He gave John-Boy a look of mock severity. “I judge from your statements, sir, that your intentions are honorable, and you intend to provide for my daughter in a manner suitable to her station in life?”

“I do, sir.” John-Boy smiled.

“Very well, sir. Then I think it is time to join the ladies.”

They both rose, but at that moment Jenny and Eula came out the door.

“What in the world have you two been laughin’ and gigglin’ about?”

“Strictly gentlemen’s talk, Eula dear. John-Boy and I have been discussin’ business affairs and the state of the world. And the incredibly high price one can pay for a bowl of soup these days.”

Both of the men laughed, which brought suspicious frowns from Eula and Jenny.

“Well, I don’t expect we’ll ever find out what that’s all about.” Eula smiled. “Do you have any cigarettes, Dave?”

He searched his pockets. “By golly, I don’t. I meant to buy some today over at Ike’s. Well, that gives us a good excuse to go for a drive over to Charlottesville and leave these two kids alone. Do you think we can trust ’em?”

“That’s not very complimentary to John-Boy.”

Dave winked at his daughter and grinned. “It’s not John-Boy I’m worried about. It’s been my experience that the female of the species is far more likely to be the predator.”

After they drove off, John-Boy and Jenny sat quietly on the porch swing for a long time. Jenny rested her head on his shoulder, and John-Boy held her, feeling contented and full of love. He felt the same way Dave Pendleton did; that nothing in the world could make him happier than he was at this moment.

“What are you thinking about, John-Boy?”

After a minute he smiled. “I don’t think I’m thinkin’ about anythin’ at all. It’s like bein’ on top of a mountain. There’s nothin’ any higher or any better and I’m just sittin’ here breathin’ the fresh air and feelin’ all the good feelin’s.”

“I love you, John-Boy.”

“I love you, Jenny.”

In the long silence that followed, John-Boy marveled at his newfound discoveries about love. It was not really necessary for them to say they loved each other. It was far more clearly communicated through the gentle touch of their hands and the light scent of her hair against his cheek. He felt they could sit here forever and be the happiest people on earth without saying another word to each other. But the sitting part, he knew, was impossible.

“I’d better get goin’, Jenny. Daddy wants me to help bring some more logs down in the mornin’.”

She nodded, but held him for another minute. When they rose John-Boy gave her a lingering kiss, and then another before he left her at the gate.

There was no moon out, and John-Boy walked cautiously along the dirt road toward home. It seemed to be an unusually warm night for this time of year. And he was tired. He had worked hard dragging and loading logs during the day. And there had been all the anxieties through supper at the Pendletons’. And then the laughter, which still ached in his stomach. It had been a long day, and he was ready for bed.

But suddenly and unaccountably, in spite of the warmth, John-Boy felt a chill run down his spine. There seemed to be an eeriness to the night that gave him an uneasy feeling. Warm breezes seemed to rustle the leaves for a moment and then stop, as if some kind of storm were making tentative probes at Walton’s Mountain. John-Boy looked curiously at the sky and the surrounding darkness as he walked. But he saw nothing to explain the strange feelings.

Reckless was the only one up to greet him. The old hound whined and whipped his tail and tugged at his rope, and then settled down again as John-Boy went through the back door.

When he reached the top of the stairs his father called from his bedroom. “That you, John-Boy?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Have a good time?”

“Had a fine time, Daddy.”

After a pause there was a smile in his father’s voice. “Goodnight, John-Boy.”

“Goodnight, Daddy.”

John-Boy had gotten out of the habit of saying his prayers when he went to bed. But tonight there seemed to be an odd compulsion for him to communicate with some higher power. In solemn tones he said the Lord’s Prayer, and then gazed at the ceiling for a long time before he finally went to sleep.

“John-Boy, you’d better get up.”

In John-Boy’s groggy consciousness the voice was soft and seemed to have an ominous quality. He blinked at the dark figure beside him and quickly looked at the window. There was no sign of light outside.

“Daddy?”

The figure nodded and rose from the bed. “Ep Bridges is down in the kitchen, son. Put somethin’ on and come down.”

John-Boy stared blankly at the open door as his father quietly left. The Sheriff? His thoughts immediately went to Homer Lee Baldwin, but he knew it was not that. It was something far worse than that. John-Boy held his breath for a minute and then turned on the light and rolled out of bed.

He dressed quickly, telling himself it couldn’t be Jenny. She was fine when he left her, and her parents certainly came home minutes after that. But why had the Sheriff come here? And why had his father awakened him? His heart was pounding furiously as he went down the dark stairs.

His mother was standing by the sink, her robe clutched tightly around her. His father stood beside her, and Sheriff Bridges had one arm resting on the top of the refrigerator. They were all grimly silent, apparently waiting for him.

“Sit down, John-Boy,” his father said.

John-Boy didn’t want to sit down. He stood at the end of the table, glancing from one face to another.

“There’s been an accident,” Sheriff Bridges said. “Down near Charlottesville. A car ran into Dave Pendleton.”

John-Boy took a sharp breath. The fact that Jenny was not involved quickly fled from his mind and he pictured a dark intersection and a sudden violent collision.