Chin Up, Honey. Curtiss Matlock Ann
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Gracie rode in the passenger side of Johnny’s new Mustang convertible. Her left hand was captured in his, and she held her hair with the other. They came over a hill, and there was Johnny’s hometown. She looked ahead to read the town sign as they flew past: Valentine, OK, Small Town in a Great Big World.
Johnny pointed out the school he had attended—all grades in one group of connected buildings. Quite strange to Gracie, who had gone to enormous schools in Baltimore. And there, down a gravel lane, was the source of the program coming from the car radio. Gracie had never heard anything like it: jokes and people’s birthdays and really old-timey country music. And Johnny knew the lyrics to most of the songs.
He drove down Main Street and pointed out his family’s convenience store, reminding her that there were three stores, and that he and his father were planning to open a fourth next year.
Then right in the middle of Main Street, he stopped, jumped out and ran over to grab a bouquet from the bins of f lowers outside the florist shop. He did nothing more than call through the door to have it put on his bill, then returned to plunk the f lowers in Gracie’s hand. Traffic backed up behind the car, but no one honked. In fact, the guy driving a pickup truck that had to stop when Johnny ran in front of him waved and called hello.
Johnny drove on through town to the other side and down a road to show her an acreage they might consider buying to build a house. She liked it, and then she reminded him that his mother was waiting.
“Okay, just one more place,” he said, and drove her down a short road to see a sign.
“We got Mr. Johnny Berry of the Quick Shop on Main on the phone. I did a bit of a plug for you, young man. You have a sign you’d like to point out to us, Johnny?”
“Thank you…and yes, sir. There’s a sign that says Dead End, Thirty-five Miles an Hour.”
The man on the radio laughed and asked the location of the sign, which Johnny gave and went on to tell how Dead End was on the top, with the speed limit right below, both on the same post. As he spoke into the phone, he cast Gracie a grin, his teeth all even and white. Gracie loved his pretty teeth. She loved everything about Johnny Berry.
He snapped his cell phone closed and leaned over to kiss her. When they broke away, she saw his eyes searching hers.
She took his face in both hands. The ring he had placed on her left hand just that morning sparkled in the sunlight.
“I am the luckiest girl in the whole world to be marrying you, Johnny Ray Berry,” she said, looking deep into his blue eyes. “Now, let’s go tell your mother.”
“O-kay.” Shifting into gear, he pressed the accelerator and headed the flashy convertible back out on the open road and toward his family’s home, which was a sprawling ranch-style house in the middle of acres of grass and tall trees. Gracie’s heartbeat picked up tempo when she saw it. She wondered what his mother would think. She knew Johnny was certain of his mother’s reception but worried about his father’s. He hadn’t said this, but Gracie had learned to listen to things Johnny did not say. He had chosen a day when his father was out of town to tell his mother of their engagement and to show her the new car, of which his father had disapproved.
They had no sooner stopped at the end of the drive when a woman came flying out the back door to throw herself at Johnny. Standing there, Gracie watched him lift the woman clean off the ground and whirl her around. Gracie could hardly breathe. She actually felt a little jealous.
Then Johnny looked at Gracie. “Mom…I’ve brought Gracie.”
He had not told his mother about bringing her, Gracie realized hard and fast. But smooth as anything, Mrs. Berry said, “I see that,” and the next thing Gracie knew, she was being hugged.
Then, after releasing Gracie, his mother went all around the car and all but hugged it, too, saying over and over again how red it was, how sporty it was, how perfect it was for him.
Gracie saw Johnny get this really silly grin on his face, and on the way into the house he asked for a peanut butter and banana sandwich, which apparently was a lot more important than setting up an opportunity to tell his mother about being engaged.
As it turned out, Mrs. Berry already had her son’s favorite sandwich made, along with a plate of grapes and cold sweet tea. Then Mrs. Berry queried Gracie as to her favorites and was able to produce them—a turkey sandwich with romaine lettuce, and Keebler Pecan Sandies and a cup of hot Ceylon tea with lemon and sugar. It was as if the woman had some sort of magical pantry. And she seemed thrilled to please Gracie, who had the impression that if she had asked for a steak, Mrs. Berry would have produced one and cooked it right up for her. It was amazing.
Winston leaned close to the microphone.
“To close out the show, we have been notified of another rather curious sign. Our young caller, who did not give a name, brings our attention to the sign out near the juvenile detention center on the north highway. It says: Be Aware—Hitchhikers May Be Escaping Inmates. Nothin’ unusual about that, but, folks, this sign is shot up with so many bullet holes that you can hardly read it.”
He paused.
“On that note, we’ll close out today’s show with this favorite by Ray Stevens, ‘Everything is Beautiful,’ going out from Willie Lee to Gabby. Remember Isaiah 41:10, and God bless and keep you until tomorrow…and don’t go pickin’ up any of those hitchhikers out on the north highway, ’cause they’re obviously armed.”
2
Emma
Just as soon as she waved Johnny and Gracie off, Emma raced back inside to the kitchen wall phone and called John Cole on his cell phone number.
While listening to the rings, she tucked the receiver into her neck and began to clean the dishes. It rang five times, and then voice mail picked up. It wasn’t even John Cole’s voice, because he had never put a message on it.
She jammed the receiver back onto the base and finished cleaning up in a vigorous manner. As she considered her options for reaching her husband, she all but wiped a hole in the counter.
John Cole had mentioned plans to drive to Oklahoma City. This did not mean he had gone, because he rarely made hard-and-fast plans. But he was a man of a few habits, and one of those was to stop into his office at the end of each day. She could call him there, but John Cole never did answer the office phone. It would be answered by Shelley Dilks, his secretary. Office manager, as the woman had made a point of saying.
It was annoying as all get-out to have to go through the woman to reach her own husband, Emma thought, again reaching for the telephone. She paused with the receiver in hand. The possibility that John Cole might have told the woman about their…situation caused a sort of short circuit in Emma’s brain. Then she remembered guiltily that she had told Belinda Blaine.
Taking a deep breath, Emma dialed the office number. It rang twice before the woman answered.
“Berry Enterprises offices, Shelley Dilks speakin’.”
“Hello, Shelley. This is Emma. Is John Cole in?”
“Well…yes. Just a minute and I’ll see if he can get the phone.”
And why would he not get the phone for his wife? Emma squeezed her eyes closed. If Shelley Dilks knows and spreads the word about me and John Cole, I will snatch her baldheaded.
“Hey. Emma?”
At John Cole’s voice, her eyes flew open.
“Yes…hello.” She thought his tone actually seemed welcoming, as if happy to have her call him. Although maybe she imagined it. She had not felt at all certain about anything with him for a long time.
“Are you in your office?”
“Well, yeah. Why?”
Just