Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial 6)
Chapter 2, Part II
Cindy Bradford
Riding into town, Patrick looked out the window of the Greyhound and decided he had stepped back in time. Along the main street were three clothing stores, all adorned with faded awnings of various colors and styles, but inside each window were mannequins dressed in plaid dresses or paisley jackets, several tilted or slightly askew probably as a result of unwatched children crawling through the tempting displays. All manner of plastic decorations lined the windows along with footballs and pompoms, a couple of used helmets and an occasional red and white jersey. Back to School banners hung on outside posts, announcing special sales. Across the street stood what appeared to have once been a Woolworth’s, its lettering still visible under a thin or worn coat of paint. On top of the flat roofed building stood a giant sign, flashing red in the shape of 5¢. Hand drawn in shoe polish on the window of the front door were the words, Under New Ownership. Come see what you can get for a dime. Fountain open daily 11:00 ‘til 4:00. Best sodas and grilled cheese sandwiches in town.
A chalk board announced the day’s special of chicken-fried steak, gravy and black-eyed peas out front of the Mom and Pop Café, located in the center of town, next door to an Esso gas station and First National Bank. Around the corner the bus drove by the First Baptist Church which filled the city block and passed the Piggly Wiggly grocery before finally coming to a stop at the bus station, which Patrick determined had seen better times.
He stood up stiffly and stretched his long legs. Grabbing his duffle bag and suitcase, he stepped down to the concrete of Townsend, population 9,038. The air smelled faintly sweet, like gardenias or fresh magnolias; he wasn’t sure.
He looked around to get his bearings. Only two other people, a young woman who looked in her mid-twenties and a little boy, had gotten off the bus and they were met by an older man and woman who Patrick figured were grandparents by the way they hugged the woman and swept the boy up into their arms, taking turns to smother him with wet kisses. Only when he reached for the bright blue package and took it in his hands was he able to squirm his way out of the man’s arms and land on his pudgy feet. This scene and similar ones Patrick had seen from inside the bus along the long journey reminded him that there would probably be no one meeting him. He had hoped the coach might be there, but there was no mention of it in his letter and no other person except a ticket person and janitor sweeping the concrete steps was anywhere in sight.
Remembering that his brothers had given him directions to the college, he headed south for what he figured would be less than a mile. He wanted to be excited about being here, but looking around he saw nothing to encourage those feelings. Across the street was a park, surrounded by pine trees that he swore touched the sky. Like many years ago in a place he willed his mind to never go, he felt suffocated. Trudging onward he had walked less than two blocks when a pretty girl in a shiny Oldsmobile cutlass pulled up to his side.
“Hi, I don’t normally pick up strangers, but I thought maybe you could use a lift,” she said in a slow friendly drawl.
He returned her smile, “That would be nice. This one is heavy,” dropping his duffle. He was beginning to perspire, not used to the heat and humidity.
“Then hop in. Where you wanting to go?”
Patrick opened the door and set his luggage in the backseat, careful not to touch two shopping bags. “To the college, Parks Hall”
“Oh, so you’re an athlete, huh? We call that the animal dorm.”
Patrick smiled “Yeah, basketball player or so they say.”
“Well, since you were walking from the station, I guess you are from somewhere faraway. You sound like it, anyway.”
Laughing, Patrick replied, “Boston.”
“Massachusetts?”
“Is there any other?” he answered with a surprised look.
A little embarrassed by her own question, she said, “Well, that is just so far away. By the way, I’m Sue. Sue Little. I’ve lived here all my life. Never been further north than the Mason-Dixon Line. Well, here we are.”
“My name is Patrick O’Brien and I really appreciate the ride. You go to college here?”
“A freshman. I can’t wait.”
“I wish I were that excited,” he said, opening the car door. Turning, he smiled faintly. “Thanks again,” as he reached for his bags.
After dropping off his belongings in his dorm room, he walked over to the gymnasium where he was pleasantly surprised at the modern facilities and plentiful bleachers. Two young boys were dribbling haphazardly. He smiled and waved to them. His thoughts drifted back to his first lopsided, wobbly attempts to sail down the court, ball bouncing, his mind on that rhythm, and his eyes on the other players. He was a hustler, a ball shagger, even then.
Seeing the gym bolstered his spirits and gave him the energy to venture across campus. Tall pine trees shaded many of the older one story buildings. Pine cones littered the thick St. Augustine grass that carpeted the plaza, lined with concrete benches. Patrick lingered there in the shade, trying to keep cool. Dodging a sprinkler spraying water on late summer begonias, he sprinted across the pathway leading to the newer two and three story structures close to the Student Union Building or “SUB”, as the sign indicated. Thirsty, he went in to buy a Coke, stopping first to look at a bulletin board, splattered erratically with messages, notices and an occasional photo: “For Sale: Good Bicycle $15.00. Call Nancy 986-4446” or, “Never-Used Book, History 101 Brooks Dorm, Rm. 206 Ask for Paul”. There were hundreds of papers tacked, one on top of the other. To Patrick it looked like perhaps three years of accumulation. One caught his eye: “Holy Spirit Catholic Church welcomes you. Two blocks from campus. Mass 7:00 a.m.” Finally, a welcoming and familiar invitation that made him feel a little more at home.
≈≈≈
Patrick might have been disappointed to be at Cherokee Junior College, but Sue Little was excited to be in the audience at freshmen orientation. She was lonely, so being surrounded by other students and the accompanying noise was a welcome respite. Even the voices of strangers were better than the silence at home.
Her parents had settled in Townsend years ago when they married because it was small and quiet, a good place to raise children. In the midst of towering pine trees, hidden from the closest big city by more than 100 miles, life was easy and carefree.
But life and death, as Sue learned as a teenager, is often not that simple. Her idyllic and happy childhood had come to a halt three years ago, the night her father died. A successful insurance agent, James, was also committed to helping his community in as many ways as he could. He coached little league, was a deacon in the Baptist church and served as a volunteer fireman. He wasn’t supposed to be on call that night, but when he heard about a fire burning the local hardware store that belonged to one of his best friends, he rushed over to assist. James was distraught when he came out of the smoldering front door, knowing it was going to be a total loss. Just as he was ready to leave, someone yelled that the owner’s German Shepherd was still in the burning building. Knowing how much the dog meant to his friend, James went back in. Minutes later, they found her dad just inside what was left of the door, clutching the dog, both charred almost beyond recognition.
Sue’s mother, Sarah, who taught second grade, and sang in the church choir, never adjusted to life without James and withdrew from everything after his death. When she lost weight, her family and friends assumed she was depressed and still grieving and no one suspected a terminal illness. Within a year she was diagnosed with stomach cancer and shortly after Sue’s seventeenth birthday, on a morning so hot and sticky that the trees drooped and the birds didn’t sing, Sarah took her last breath.
This left Sue with no one but her older sister Alice, who had married three years before and moved a few streets over, into the new part of town. Because Sue begged to stay in the small two-story house where they had grown up and lived while she finished high school, Alice acquiesced. Although worried that Sue was too young and vulnerable, and much too lonely to live alone, Alice trusted her, knowing that it was Sue who had always been the dependable one. She was the one with the good grades, whom her parents counted on and who never disappointed them by running around town, staying out too late or sneaking around with boys. The sisters were close, even though their personalities and looks could not have been more different.
Sue’s hair was jet black, like her mother’s. She was tall and trim and her olive complexion set off the unusual color of her eyes. To her delight, people often told her that her eyes reminded them of Liz Taylor, the movie star. She was the more reserved of the two girls, and held many more aspirations. If someone were describing the All-American Girl, Sue could have fit the description.
Those who knew Alice, however, were not fooled by her tiny frame and blond hair. She was certainly not an airhead and neither a pushover or witless, but rather a “spirited, animated and outspoken spitfire,” as her dad had proudly described her. She favored his appearance and he admired her spunk, so when her mother had said she lacked ambition, he had always come to her defense, saying it wasn’t missing; it was just misplaced.
The sisters wore fashionable clothes, with just the right amount of make-up to complement their striking features and up-to-date hair styles. Both had been cheerleaders in high school and in as many clubs and activities as time allowed. Friendly to everyone, thoughtful and caring, their parents had taught them well. But now their parents were gone.
At freshman orientation, Sue listened as the vice president discussed the college’s rules and expectations, all the while scanning the audience, looking for a certain shock of sandy red hair. She easily identified the football players sitting in a group down front, squirming and whispering while the speaker pointed to a diagram of the campus and rehashed guidelines. Finally, after what seemed like a litany of do’s and don’ts, the coaches began introducing their teams. When Patrick’s name was called, he stood up quickly, making his way to the stage without a waste of a minute. She remembered him being tall and muscular, but seeing him with his teammates, she was surprised how tall. He was a full head taller than most. His smile looked forced, almost sad, but all Sue really saw now were his blue eyes that softened his angular features and matched his wrinkled shirt. He practically sprinted off the stage, agile and smooth in movement. Sue could visualize him on the basketball court as self-assured and in charge.
“I want that one,” she said, turning to her girlfriend and pointing to Patrick.
“But he’s redheaded. You always date guys with dark hair.”
“Yes, but there’s something about him that intrigues me. I think it’s his eyes. They’re gorgeous. And, he just seems so different from the guys here.”
“How do you know that? You’ve just seen him two minutes.”
“I met him yesterday. I was leaving The Toggery and he was walking from the bus station. So I offered him a ride.”
“I can’t believe you. Sue, you are so naïve and trusting. He could have been a serial killer.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I could tell he was a nice guy. Wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
“Yeah, Yeah, famous last words.”