Watermelon Days and Firefly Nights: Heartwarming Scenes from Small Town Life (25 page)

Rochelle had been so intent on looking over her music score, on making sure that she understood all the changes that the band director had asked her to make in the band’s routine, that she hadn’t heard Rocky come up. When he spoke, his voice startled her and she jumped, stumbled backwards in what seemed like slow motion, and tumbled right off the platform, landing in a twisted heap.

Band members who saw what had happened rushed to Rochelle’s aid. One of them ran to tell the band director that he better come quick. Rocky, mortified that he’d caused Rochelle to fall, did not know what to do.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”

Rochelle, stunned and in pain, tried to assure Rocky and the rest of those gathered around her that she was okay. “I’m fine. Just fine.” She looked up at Rocky. “Could you help me get up? I think I may have twisted something.”

Help her up? Could he ever! The sight of Rochelle’s hazel-green eyes, framed with thick brown lashes and wet with tears of pain, gave the slight-built Rocky a strength he had not known before. Though she outweighed him by about ten pounds, Rocky lifted Rochelle in his arms and carried her all the way to the band hall. He only nearly dropped her twice.

“H
E WAS MY KNIGHT
in pressed khakis,” teased Rochelle when she overheard him telling Melissa, the waitress at the Wild Flour, how they met. “I knew from then on that Rocky was the only man for me.”

“You did not. You hardly knew I was alive, until you got out of school. The hard part,” Rocky told Melissa, “was that I couldn’t let on that I liked her or I would have gotten kicked out of the teaching program at the university. She never even knew.”

“But I thought you said that you were just a student too,” said Melissa. “You were only there for a couple of weeks of observation, right?”

“I was, but then I ended up doing some substitute teaching at that school—which in one way was a good thing, because I made a little money and got to see Rochelle every day, but in another way was a bad thing, because I couldn’t let on that I liked her.”

“They have strict rules about teachers, even substitute teachers, having anything to do with students,” said Rochelle.

“So for twelve long weeks, I admired my redhead darling from afar.”

“And for twelve weeks, I hobbled around in a cast.”

“You mean your leg was broken?”

Rochelle pulled up her skirt a bit to show Melissa the evidence. “Yep. Had to have surgery and everything.”

“Rochelle wasn’t my first girlfriend,” Rocky said, “but she was the first girl that I actually caused to fall head over heels!”

R
OCKY KNOWS IT DIDN’T HAPPEN
exactly like that, but he thinks it makes for a good how-we-met tale. Actually, he was the one who fell for Rochelle. Hard. Though he never acted on his feelings while he was assigned to her school (so fearful was he of getting in trouble that he hardly dared speak to her), every single day his eyes sought her out. He snatched glimpses of her hobbling on her crutches down the school hallways, watched her laugh with her friends in the school cafeteria, and tried to act nonchalant when she passed by his classroom.

“Leg healing okay?” Rocky would ask about once a week.

“Okay,” she said.

“That’s good.”

The day after Rochelle graduated from high school, Rocky called her up.

“Rocky? Rocky who? Rocky Shartle?
Mr.
Shartle? Uh, yeah, I mean, yes, sir, I mean, yes, this is Rochelle.”

“Are you feeling all right? Your leg, I mean?”

“Yes. I’m totally fine. I don’t even have to go back for more therapy.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Silence. A deep breath. “I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime. Maybe Saturday? To a movie?”

“Well, sure. I mean, I guess so.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at 6:30. Would that be all right?”

“Okay, Mr. Sh—Rocky. That sounds like fun.”

Well, Rocky decided that very evening, the night of their first date, that Rochelle was the woman he was going to marry. It took Rochelle a little longer. Not until their third date did she decide Rocky was right for her.

“What will your parents think when we tell them we want to get married?” he asked.

“I dunno. Actually, I think they’ll be shocked, and since I’m only eighteen, they’ll probably try to talk us into waiting. Then again, they can’t say much. They were only eighteen themselves when they got married. Actually, once they get over the surprise, I think they’ll decide it’s okay. You gonna talk to my dad?”

“I think I should.”

“How about my mom?”

“Yes. Her too.”

Rochelle’s parents lived a thousand miles away. Because of her dad’s job, they’d had to move just six weeks before her graduation. They had allowed Rochelle to stay behind and live with a friend so that she could graduate from her hometown high school. Rocky and Rochelle’s marriage plans would have to be discussed over the phone.

Rocky fortified himself with three swigs of Pepto-Bismol before gathering the courage to call Rochelle’s dad and ask him for his daughter’s hand.

“Hi, Daddy,” Rochelle said after she’d dialed the phone. “How are you? I’m fine. Yes. Yes. Okay. I sure will. Uh, Daddy, remember the guy that I told you about? Uh-huh, that’s the one. Rocky, the one who’s going to be a teacher. Well, he’s here with me now and he wants to ask you something.”

“Mr. Riggs,” Rocky said, his voice sounding high inside his own head, “Rochelle and I would like to get married, if that’s all right with you, uh, sir.”

Rochelle, only inches away, tried to read Rocky’s face and guess her daddy’s response.

“Yes. Yes. In May, after I graduate, sir. Uh, no, sir, but I have several leads. Uh-huh, I mean, yes, sir. Of course. Yes. I promise. You have my word on that. Yes. Okay. Good-bye, sir. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

He laid the phone back into its cradle and sank to a chair, sweating and grinning and thinking that he might throw up.

“Well? What did he say? Did he say okay? Did he sound upset? Tell me!” Rochelle hopped from one foot to the other.

“He said we could get married as long as I promised to . . . ” Rochelle’s dad’s words suddenly registered in Rocky’s brain, “take care of your teeth?”

Just then the phone rang. It was Rochelle’s mother. Her dad had hung up before she’d had a chance to talk, and that was not all right by her. “Yes, mother, I’m sure. I know, but we don’t want to wait. Oh yes, he’s very good to me. You do? All right, I’ll put him on.”

Rochelle handed the phone to Rocky. He drew back from it as if it were a snake. “She wants to talk to you,” Rochelle hissed.

“Yes, ma’am. Uh-huh. Yes. I understand. Yes. I’ll do my best.” He hung up the phone again.

“Rocky! I wanted to talk to her some more. What did she say? I couldn’t tell if she was excited or upset. How do you think she sounded?”

“Rochelle, is there something you haven’t told me?”

“What do you mean? What did she say?”

“She only wanted to know one thing. If we got married, would I take care of your teeth? Your dad asked me the same thing. You don’t have, like . . . are those your real teeth?” He looked at her mouth. “I mean, your teeth aren’t going to fall out or something, are they?”

Rochelle began to giggle. “No. Of course not. It’s just that when I was younger, when my permanent teeth first started coming in, I had lots of problems and my parents had to spend a ton of money on my mouth. And my parents are not rich. For years and years, I had to go to the dentist almost every month. It nearly worried my mother and daddy to death. But my teeth are fine now.”

Rocky did not look convinced.

Rochelle opened her mouth and showed him her teeth. “See? They’re fine. You’re looking at a very expensive smile. I guess Mom and Dad just want to make sure that their investment is well taken care of.”

O
NCE HE’D FINISHED TELLING
Melissa the story, Rocky looked at his watch, gave Rochelle a peck on the cheek, and left to pick the kids up from the baby-sitter. Melissa watched him go, then turned to Rochelle. “You agreed to marry Rocky on your third date? And you were only eighteen?”

“It was his cologne,” said Rochelle.

“No!”

“Really. Old Spice. When I saw it in his bathroom—five full bottles—well, I just knew that Rocky was the one.”

“Pee-yew! I don’t like Old Spice,” said Melissa. “I’ve never smelled it on Rocky.”

And she never will. Rocky doesn’t wear the stuff. But he gets a brand-new bottle every year at Christmas.

R
OCKY’S
G
RANNY
O
PAL
,
in her younger, more spry years, loved to go shopping, especially for Christmas presents. She’d never learned to drive, so in early December (Granny
Opal liked to beat the crowds), her daughter-in-law,
Rocky’s mother, would pick her up and take her to Sears, J.C. Penney’s, and Wal-Mart. Granny Opal would search for perfect gifts for her children, her grandchildren, her next-door neighbors, and the preacher at her church. The two of them, mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, enjoyed each other’s company, and so they would make a day of it, stopping midmorning for coffee and midday for lunch.

Granny Opal always got Rocky’s mother to help her pick out her own gift. “Promise me, though, that between
now and Christmas, you’ll forget what it is,” she would
say with a wink.

“I promise.” Rocky’s mother always kept her word.