Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial 12)
Chapter 4 Part I
Cindy Bradford
Basketball season was once again a flurry of activity and Patrick was excited because he was playing really well. Although his grades were not faring the same, he was managing to keep them high enough for his scholarship to remain intact. Sue told him in East Texas it was called “holding on by the skin of your teeth.”
“Another saying from the foreign land,” he laughed.
Even attending his home games and some of his closer out-of-town games and rarely studying, Sue was making mostly A’s with an occasional B. School had always come easy for her and she enjoyed everything about it.
Always the planner she hoped Patrick would know soon after the season ended where he would be playing next year. She realized it would be somewhere out of state and that would be a big adjustment for her. She hated leaving Alice whose marriage was so shaky. No matter, she would follow Patrick anywhere.
“Patrick, what time do you think you’ll be finished with practice tomorrow?”
“Probably early since we’re leaving at lunch Friday for the tournament in Ranger. Why?”
“I just thought I’d fry some chicken and make some mashed potatoes. You said you really liked my chicken when I fixed it before.”
“I did. It was great. Like I told you then, I never tasted chicken like that. Hey, would you mind if I brought Marcus? I told him about it and he said he sure would like to taste it. He misses his mother’s cooking. I think he’s really homesick.”
Sue was quiet and frowned slightly. “Isn’t he black?”
“Well, yes, Sue,” his voice rising slightly. “He’s the little guard from the southern part of Illinois. Why? What difference does that make?”
“In Townsend, a lot. We just don’t do that here.”
“Do what? Have black people over for dinner?”
She hesitated, “We don’t mix like that much here.”
“Well, welcome to the twentieth century, Sue. It’s 1971. Townsend needs to get with the program,” he said, his voice rising in anger.
“For your information, Yankee Doodle, this is not the land of Lincoln or the cradle of liberty, but we have our ways here and that happens to be one of them,” she said, shocked at her own words.
“It’s a stupid, narrow minded way, just like half of everything else here in this place. You are so far behind, you’ll never catch up.”
“Maybe not. Things change slowly and eventually they’ll change here, too.”
“Well, I haven’t got the time to wait. Fry your chicken for someone else. Marcus and I will go where we are BOTH welcome,” and with that he got out of the car and slammed the door. She sat silent for a few minutes and then started the car and drove home.
She didn’t hear from him that night or the next and he barely spoke the next two days after class. Knowing he was leaving and would be gone until late Saturday night she wanted to talk to him before anymore time passed. When she saw him up ahead, she called for him to wait.
“I’m sorry Patrick. Please try to understand. I don’t have any problem with Marcus or any of your other black friends. It’s just…” her voice trailed off.
“I’m sorry I got so mad Sue, but it is hard for me to understand. Let’s just forget about it. We’re from different parts of the country and different cultures, but I still love you,” and then he smiled, “Even if you are wrong.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Let’s get some coffee.”
Hearing that scouts from several major universities including Notre Dame had been at the last two games, Patrick was ecstatic, knowing he had played well.
Toward the end of November, his coach received a call from a recruiter at Notre Dame explaining they wanted Patrick to visit the campus in Indiana in mid-December. Although there were several other colleges showing interest in him, his mind was only on Notre Dame. To him, playing there would be like a dream come true.
Patrick told Sue about his plans that included flying there, being shown around campus and talking to the coaches. From there he would catch a plane to Boston for Christmas.
“Sue, I’m sorry that you can’t come home with me for Christmas. I had thought we might work that out this year.”
“It’s okay,” she stammered, trying to hide her disappointment. This is more important, but I’ll miss you terribly.”
Unable to mask his excitement about the impending visit, Patrick talked about nothing else, making Sue feel a little left out.
“Would you help me pick out a couple of new sweaters to wear in Indiana?”
“Sure, but you don’t need any help. You match colors better than any guy I know. I always like everything you wear.”
“Thanks, for years I’ve had my pick of which hand-me-down clothing I wanted,” he laughed.
“That’s the beauty of having three big brothers. I’d just like to have a couple of new things for this trip.”
“How about Saturday?” she asked. “I don’t think the stores in Glenview will still be open when you finish practice today or tomorrow.”
“Good, let’s go about 3:00 p.m. and we’ll eat dinner there where there are more restaurant choices.”
Sue couldn’t believe what a shopper he was. He looked at sweaters in every store until finally he decided on a brown one with black stripes and a solid blue angora.
Looking at the blue sweater she commented, “That one looks good with your eyes, but at this point I’d say anything would. I can’t believe you shopped so long. I’m starved.”
He reached for the shopping bag with one hand and took her hand in his other. “You females can’t ever figure us guys out can you?”
“You can say that for sure.”
“Hey, I know a neat place on the lake about six miles from here that serves great fried catfish. What does that sound like to you,” Sue asked.
“Fried what?”
“Catfish, you know.”
“I have never heard of that kind of fish. Where did you come up with a name like that?”
Sue laughed, “I don’t know. That’s just what they’re called, but they do have whiskers. My dad fished and he used to bring them home to clean. Alice and I didn’t like to see them. They were big and ugly.”
“Well, where is this place? If I’ve tried chopped barbeque and fried squash, I might as well taste catfish,” wrinkling his nose.
Pointing, Sue said, “Go that way. I’ll tell you where to turn.” They drove on the main road for a couple of miles and then turned at the fork in the road onto a narrow oil-based road.
“I never would have found this,” Patrick said, looking at the thick underbrush.
“It’s not hard once you’ve been here a couple of times. Over there. Park up there.”
Patrick pulled the car onto a pea-gravel covered incline overlooking the lake. “That didn’t take long.”
“I told you it wasn’t far.”
They walked down a splintered gangplank to an old weathered wooden building with tiny twinkling lights lining the metal roof that had long since lost its shine. Three couples were standing in the screened-in waiting area drinking beer and wine out of plastic cups. Warm for this time of year, people were enjoying being outside in just a sweater.
“You know I usually don’t drink much during the regular season, but cold beer sure sounds good. Or maybe it’s just that they always taste better in plastic,” he winked. “Want one?”
Sue thought a minute, “I think I’ll have a white wine.”
Grinning, Patrick came back carrying a cup in each hand. “Classy place you’ve brought me to,” handing Sue her wine.
“Thanks, I mean for the wine,” she smiled.
“Well the beer’s good anyway,” Patrick said after taking a swallow.
“I think you’ll like the fish, that is, if you keep an open mind. Lobster it’s not, though.”
“I’m just giving you a bad time. You haven’t seen me push away much food anyway, have you?”
“My mom and dad used to bring us here a lot in summer when I was a kid. I wish they could have met you, Patrick. They would have liked you.”
“You really miss them don’t you, Sue,” Patrick asked softly.
Sue swallowed hard, “Yes, and the upcoming holidays make it even more so,” almost in a whisper. Then to change the subject she pointed, saying, “See all those stumps? This is the fishing side of the lake; that ramp over there is where people launch their boats. On Saturday mornings this place is crowded with little metal, what we call, john boats. Most of them only have about a 25 horsepower motor or less.”
“How big is this lake? I’ve never even known it was here.”
“Gosh, I really don’t know. This is the smallest part. There are some really nice homes around on the other side, the water skiing side. My parents once owned a little weekend house here, with a wood stove. It was primitive to say the least, certainly nothing like the fancy ones they’re building now. We used to come out to swim and ski. I thought it was really cool until I saw a huge water moccasin in the water right where I was swimming. I don’t think I’ve been back in the water since.”
He stifled a grin. He had long since understood that people here had some unique ways of describing things, at least unique to him, anyway. “I take it that a water moccasin is a snake.”
“Yes, and there are a lot in this lake. Did you give the man over there your name?”
“No, I was enjoying looking around, listening to you, but I guess I’d better sign up. I can’t put this off forever,” he said, pinching her waist and then walking over to have his name added to the list for those waiting for a table.
“The other thing this lake is famous for is parking.”
“Huh?”
“You know, high school kids parking, making out in the car. At some point, everybody comes out here at least once on these dark roads to park. It’s just a tradition, but it’s kinda spooky and scary and really dark. I guess you could say it’s a rite of passage for the local kids. Of course, our parents say don’t you dare do it and everybody does. Probably most of the parents who grew up here did it too.”
“O’Brien,” the man yelled, “Your table’s ready.” He seated them by a window, but by now it was too dark to see the lake’s surface except the serene reflection of the twinkling lights.
“This is fun, Sue. I’m glad you brought me.”