A Match Made in Dry Creek (9 page)

All the way over to the farm, the car had kept acting up and Doris June half expected she would have to walk back to the Nelson farm and borrow one of their pickups. But her mother's old car managed to get them to their farm.

Doris June took a deep breath as she stepped from the car, thinking again that the air did smell better when the ground had been plowed recently. She looked at the stretch of land that bordered the field Curt had freshly worked. He had planted part of it in wheat and she could see tiny green sprouts coming up in rows. At the side of the field was a strip of ground covered with a plastic tarp. She could see small sections of lavender through the plastic.

“We've got baskets in the old house,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she got out of the car and walked over to stand beside Doris June. “The pansies are ready to go in the baskets anytime now. I thought we'd spend the day tomorrow getting the baskets ready and then Curt said he can truck them over to the church on Saturday.”

“We've got our work cut out for us, all right,” Charley said as he joined them. “What with the baskets and the concert, we'll be busy.”

Charley didn't sound displeased at the prospect of work.

“Ben and Lucy might help us on Saturday,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “If we help them some with the concert, they'll have time.”

“I thought of asking them before,” Charley said. “But I wondered—I mean, since neither one of them has a mother, at least not here, I thought the baskets might bother them.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Hargrove said and thought a minute. “But maybe it would make them feel better to do something for mothers in general. So they're part of everything anyway.”

“Maybe.” Charley shrugged. “I just don't know.”

Doris June decided she was glad that her mother and Charley had something to worry about besides the stop sign. It gave her time to walk over to the house. The house here was as much a home to her as the house where her mother now lived in Dry Creek. For years while Doris June was a child, their family had spent the
summers on the farm and then moved into their Dry Creek house for the school months. There had been no school bus in those days and the roads out by the farm were often closed because of snow, so most families with schoolchildren had a place to stay in town in addition to their farmhouse.

Doris June opened the door to the old house. It was never kept locked, although it was latched tight so the wind wouldn't blow the door open in a blizzard. The light was dim as Doris June stepped inside. The windows were boarded up to keep the glass from being broken and the roof had a tarp over it that draped down to cover the cracks in the windows on the south side of the house.

As she stood in the kitchen, with the open door to her back, Doris June could hear Charley telling her mother that he was going to wait for Curt. The kitchen was obviously where they were setting up their Mother's Day production facility. There were stacks of baskets along the tile counter that ran along one side of the kitchen. The air inside the house smelled musty, but Doris June still detected the faint scent of cinnamon left from the days when her mother used to bake sweet rolls in the kitchen.

“I always miss your father when I come here,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she entered the house. There was a plain Formica table in the middle of the kitchen and Mrs. Hargrove went over to it and sat in one of the chairs surrounding it. “Your father was always happiest when he could be out here.”

Doris June watched as her mother crossed her arms to keep warm.

“I remember Dad plowing and getting so excited when he'd finish a field,” Doris June said.

“Farming was a contest to him,” Mrs. Hargrove admitted. “He liked the challenge—to see if he could beat the rain or if he could beat Charley with the plowing. Their fields were about the same size and they made a point of starting on the same day.”

Doris June smiled.

“Of course, I suspected for a long time that Charley let your dad win,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “Charley would always be just a little bit behind him, but he never did seem to pass him.”

“You should ask Charley.”

Mrs. Hargrove shook her head. “I'm not sure Charley would want me to know. It'd make him feel soft. Men don't always like that. So I let him keep his secret. I think it made Charley happy to do it. Those were good days for your father.”

“Were you happy here?” Doris June asked as she sat down in one of the other chairs. She could feel the metal bars of the chair on her back. “I mean for yourself and not just because of Dad?”

Mrs. Hargrove smiled. “It took me some time to get used to the farm, but, in time, I liked the peace out here as much as your father did. When we first got married, I used to think nothing would suit me but city life. Your
father and I, we were such opposites when we got married.”

Doris June could remember her father well. He'd died almost twenty years ago, but he'd always seemed bigger than life. He had enough gusto for ten men. It was strange, but she didn't have as clear a picture of her mother from those days as she did of her father. Her mother had always paled in comparison to her father. It was odd to think of that now though because her mother was not at all timid these days. She had blossomed as she grew older.

“Did you think I wouldn't be happy if I'd married Curt back then?”

Mrs. Hargrove stiffened. “It wasn't Curt. I've always said you were too young.”

Doris June nodded. Her mother had always said that. It wasn't until now, however, that Doris June was wondering if there hadn't been other reasons. “Were you happy when you first got married?”

Mrs. Hargrove hugged her arms and didn't answer at first. Finally, she said. “Your father was a saint. But, sometimes, it's hard when people marry too young. For women, especially, if they don't know who they are and what they want in life. It can be hard for them to find their footing.”

Doris June reached across the table and patted her mother's arm. They sat together as the morning light filtered in through the open door and the cracks in some of the boards hanging over the windows.

“I wanted you to be happy,” Mrs. Hargrove finally said.

“I know.” Doris June wasn't sure she had fully forgiven her mother for interfering until this very moment. In her mind, it had been her mother who stopped everything that day twenty-five years ago. Her father might have forbidden her to get married, but she didn't remember him being as adamant as her mother had been. It was odd, but in the years since then, she had never thought about why her mother had been so sure it was not good to be married young.

Looking at her mother now, Doris June knew she had to do something to relieve her mother's guilt. It was that guilt and not some sort of senior confusion that was eating away at her mother's confidence.

“I'm okay, really I am,” Doris June said. “You did what any parent would do.”

“Yes, but—”

“Really, I'm good,” Doris June said. She heard a humming in the distance that could only be a tractor coming down the road. Doris June didn't know what else to say so she just sat with her mother. In a few minutes, she heard boots on the porch just outside of the kitchen.

“Anybody home?” Curt called out.

“We're in here,” Doris June said as she stood up. “We were just going out to see the pansies.”

Curt stepped into the open door of the kitchen. “Why don't you grab one of those baskets so we can see how many pansies we need to make them look full?”

“Will do.” Doris June picked up a basket as she walked past the counter. She looked back at her mother. “See, everything's okay.”

Mrs. Hargrove stood up and nodded. “I'll be right behind you.”

Curt was already heading to the pansy patch, but he turned around and smiled when he saw Doris June walk out of the door and stand for a minute on the porch to take a deep breath of the farm air. This was the Doris June he knew. He liked seeing her in old jeans and a flannel shirt even more than he'd liked seeing her in the soft pink dress last night, and that was saying something.

“I'll pull back the plastic and we'll take a look,” Curt said when Doris June got to the pansies. Charley was already standing by the flowers and Mrs. Hargrove was following along behind.

It only took Curt one motion of his arm to pull back the plastic. The plastic itself was warm because of the solar lights. He'd read the directions when he put the stuff down to be sure that it would never get hot enough to melt or to start a fire.

“They're beautiful,” Doris June said as they stood and looked down at the flowers.

“They're still awfully small,” Mrs. Hargrove fretted. “I wanted them to be bigger by now.”

“Isn't that what all mothers say,” Charley said with a smile.

“I think they're just perfect,” Doris June said. “When
they're small like this, we can crowd the baskets with them. It will be all lavender and purple and those bits of yellow velvet.”

“We have some moss to put around the plants, too,” Curt said. “That way we can water them well on Saturday and they'll be all set for giving away on Sunday morning.”

“Did anyone remember to buy ribbon?” Doris June asked.

“I have lots of yellow ribbon left from when we decorated the tree in front of the church,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “I brought that out from town the other day along with bits and pieces of other ribbon.”

“Why don't you and Charley put the ribbons on the baskets while Doris June and I dig?” Curt said to Mrs. Hargrove.

“Well, I can—” Charley started to say something and then Mrs. Hargrove put her hand on his arm. He cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah, never mind. We'll leave the hard work to you young ones.”

Mrs. Hargrove and Charley walked into the farmhouse.

 

Curt watched his father and Mrs. Hargrove leave and then he turned to Doris June. “We've been had, you know.”

“Yeah, I figured. But they shouldn't be lifting things and digging holes even if they still think they can.”

Curt nodded. “I should have brought us some hoes instead of these shovels.” He looked down at the pansies. “The plants are so little; I don't want to damage them.”

“We'll be careful,” Doris June said.

Curt liked the rhythm he and Doris June got into. She was tense at first when they were alone so he didn't say anything. He just worked. He'd sink his shovel between the rows and she would use her shovel to lift the individual plants out of the dirt. When they had a dozen or so pansies unearthed, they put them in one of the plastic trays that sat beside the plants and started on another tray.

Curt could tell Doris June relaxed around him as they worked. He didn't want to disturb that, but he finally asked her a question about her job in Anchorage. Before he knew it, the sun was high in the sky and he knew all about what a traffic control manager did at a television station.

“You like your job, don't you?” Curt finally stopped digging and leaned on his shovel.

Doris June nodded and patted the dirt around their last tray of pansies.

“I bet everyone's getting hungry,” Curt said. “It must be past one.”

“We should be getting home,” Doris June said. “I need to press something to wear for our meeting tonight.”

“You look fine to me.” Curt looked at Doris June. “There's nothing wrong with what you're wearing.”

“I thought I'd change into a suit,” Doris June said.

Curt had been afraid of that. He didn't know when she had become so fond of suits. “The guy from the state is probably in his twenties. He's probably going to wear cutoffs and a T-shirt.”

“I wouldn't count on it. A guy in his twenties can still be wearing a suit,” Doris June said as she stood up and stretched her back. “He's in business.”

“He's with the state,” Curt said. “Even if he's going to dress up, we don't need to impress him. We're the taxpayers.”

Doris June was, of course, halfway to the house by the time he said that.

It was a good thing he had another white shirt, Curt told himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd put a suit on twice in the same week. And that wasn't counting going to church.

D
oris June slid into the jacket of her navy suit and stepped in front of the mirror in her old bedroom to make sure her hair was all in place. The mirror had a black rim around it where it had aged. There was still some tape in the corner where she used to put notes to herself about school assignments.

When Doris June looked in the mirror, she could see how she had changed over the years. Some of it was good, some of it was bad. The basics were still the same. She had blond hair that was too dark to be really fashionable and eyes that were too light a blue to be mysterious. Her cheeks had always been pink and bordering on chubby. Her face looked more settled than it had when she stood at this mirror in her school days. She moved slower, but maybe she wasn't as impatient. She seemed more solid.

She didn't look as though she was as easily swayed as she had been back then. She straightened her jacket. Wearing a suit made her feel she was more in charge of her own opinions. In her youth, she'd been like a puppy, happily going this way and that way, never knowing which direction she really wanted to take.

When Curt had reminded her about their argument on what route to take to Las Vegas, she remembered how hard it had been for her to try to stand up for what she did want even when she knew what it was. She had tried to tell him that it was going to be her wedding, too, and that she wanted it to be nice.

She smoothed back her hair and added a gold pin to her suit jacket. Curt had always been the one who made the decisions for them. It had seemed exciting at sixteen, but even as they talked about eloping, some part of her had wondered if he would always insist on doing things his way.

Her mother and father had shared the decisions in their family; at least it had looked that way to her. She knew it had never done her any good to cry poor-me to either one of them. The one who hadn't made the decision always backed the one who had. It had been frustrating as a child, but she had always imagined that was what a marriage was supposed to be like. From what her mother had said this morning, though, she wondered if the balance of power had been the same at the beginning of their marriage.

“Doris June,” her mother called up the stairs. “It's almost time to go.”

“I'll be right down.” Doris June turned away from the mirror and started toward the stairs.

The day had grown warmer as time passed, and now that it was almost four o'clock the heat of the day was pressed down and waiting as Doris June opened the door to go outside.

“No rain today,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she stepped out onto her porch and followed Doris June down the steps. “It makes the ground better for walking, but the crops will need it soon.”

“It'll probably rain some before long.” Doris June adjusted her steps to match those of her mother. “Here take my arm. There are ruts along the road here.”

Mrs. Hargrove put her hand on Doris June's arm.

“I hope you're careful when you walk along here by yourself,” Doris June said as she tucked her mother's hand closer to her. “You don't want to fall.”

“I'm careful,” Mrs. Hargrove assured her. “You don't need to worry.”

The two of them walked to the café.

“I suppose we should offer him some coffee,” Mrs. Hargrove said as they climbed the steps to the café.

“I think that would be nice.”

When the two women entered the café, Doris June could tell right away that the man at the table on the left was the state man even though he had an empty platter
in front of him that indicated he'd eaten in the café, so he could really be anyone. If they got more visitors in Dry Creek, Doris June might not have known for sure who he was.

Curt had been right about him. He looked like he was about twenty-five. But she had been right, too. He had on a beige suit that had probably cost him a week's salary.

“Doris June Hargrove.” She put her hand out to the state man as she finished walking over to his table. “You must be Mr. Aaron White.”

“Yes.” He stood up. “I'm Aaron. So glad you could meet me.”

“My mother is the one who is writing the piece for your publication. Well, she and Charley Nelson,” Doris June said as she pulled out a chair for her mother. “I'm just along for the ride.”

“Well, I'm pleased to meet both of you.”

“Charley Nelson is the man you talked to yesterday on the phone,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “He'll be here any minute, with his son. I hope we haven't kept you waiting?”

“I got here early so I had a late lunch,” Aaron said as he looked over at the kitchen door. “Linda has been filling me in on the plans the kids have for a concert here and I'm beginning to think you don't even need the tourism guide.”

Linda came out of the door to the kitchen carrying a coffeepot.

“Refill?” she asked Aaron, and then looked at Mrs.
Hargrove and Doris June. “Can I get anything for either of you?”

“We just ate,” Mrs. Hargrove said as Linda filled Aaron's coffee cup.

“The kids will be so excited,” Linda said when she finished filling the cup. “Aaron thinks their concert will be a smashing success.”

“It's got grass-roots promotion written all over it,” Aaron agreed. “If we could think of an educational angle to go with it, I could promote it to the high schools in Billings.”

Just then Doris June heard the school bus drive into Dry Creek.

“He thinks they should even charge,” Linda said. “At least enough to cover expenses.”

Aaron nodded. “I can't wait to meet Lucy and Ben.”

The door to the café swung open.

“They're here now,” Linda said as the two teenagers raced in.

It only took a couple of minutes for Lucy and Ben to learn everything that Aaron had been telling Linda.

“You really think you could get some kids from Billings to come?” Lucy asked.

“If we can figure out an educational angle, the kids that come can even get extra credit for it in social studies. We're doing a family-preparedness section in the high schools and we're looking for fun things they can do where they actually learn something.”

Lucy and Ben were silent as they thought.

“It wouldn't even need to be that much of an educational angle.” Aaron took a sip of his coffee. “Sometimes soft educational works, too—you know, something that has to do with feelings and stuff.”

“It's love ballads,” Lucy said. “That's feelings.”

“Well, it would have to be more than that,” Aaron said.

The door to the café opened and Curt and Charley walked in. They were both wearing boots and Doris June didn't need to see them to know they were heading toward the table where everyone was sitting.

“Dad, this man is going to help us with our concert,” Ben announced. “Isn't that great?”

“Yeah,” Curt said as he pulled a chair out and sat down at the table.

“I'll do whatever I can,” Aaron said.

“Well, if you've got a big chain, we could use another one to pull the pickup in to town. I can only find the one,” Charley said as he sat down at the table, too.

“What pickup?” Aaron asked. “Did I miss something?”

“We're going to bring in the real pickup,” Lucy gushed. “You know, the one that hit the sign. The fender is still bent and everything.”

“I sent money to have it fixed,” Curt defended himself.

“It's your pickup?” Aaron asked as he turned to Curt. His voice rose in excitement. “You're the one who was eloping?”

“Well, it was technically my father's pickup,” Curt
said. “But, yeah, I was the one driving it when I hit the sign. It was a complete accident.”

Ben chuckled. “He was trying to kiss Doris June. That's why they hit the stop sign.”

Aaron looked over at Doris June and his eyes got wide.

“That's great!” Aaron was really getting animated now. “That's a perfect message for kids. The two of you could do a thing on eloping.”

“They could do a driver's education piece on why it's important to watch the road when they're driving,” Ben offered.

“I don't think we need to bring driving into this,” Curt said. “If we're going to have any messages at the concert it should be don't drink and don't do drugs. We shouldn't even mention eloping. Everyone's too young for that.”

There was a moment's silence.

“And really we're hoping to do something on flowers for the guidebook,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “I have the prettiest field of pansies a few miles north of here that you have to see.”

Doris June knew her mother's pansies didn't stand a chance once she saw the light in Aaron's eyes. He was an advertising person in pursuit of a new concept.

“They give out baskets of pansies to every mother who comes to church on Sunday morning,” Doris June had to try anyway. “I think we could get some local news coverage of that. Human interest stories and all.”

“But the bent-heart concert could go regional,” Aaron said. “I could see them picking up a news story about something like this in Denver. Maybe even Salt Lake City. It's got all the elements. Local teenagers fall in love and wreck a sign on their way to get married. Years later, their son sings love songs at the—”

“Oh, no,” Doris June interrupted him. He was getting it all wrong. “We never got married. The elopement was called off.”

“I know, but I thought you got married later. I mean—” Aaron looked around in bewilderment. “Well, then who's Ben's mother?”

“She's away,” Doris June said. She was glad she'd worn the suit. She felt as if she was talking about someone else. “I'm not Ben's mother. His father married someone else.”

“Well, that doesn't make the story nearly as good,” Aaron said.

“But, it happens to be life,” Curt said.

“Anyway, about those flowers,” Mrs. Hargrove added gamely. “We can take you out to see them if you want.”

Doris June could see out of the corner of her eye that Ben's face was bright red. He was probably wishing—as sincerely as she was—this whole thing had never happened.

“You know—” Aaron was taping his finger on the side of his head “—it's actually better this way.”

“Better for who?” Curt asked.

“Better as an educational message to go with the
concert,” Aaron said. “You're right, you know. It
is
how life happens. Boy doesn't always get girl. The eloping couple doesn't always get married. This could really be a good message for the kids. I could take this to the schools and call it a mental health event. Kids might even get double credit for coming.”

Lucy let out a squeal and kissed Ben on the cheek. “We're going to have so many kids at our concert.”

In the end, Aaron decided they might want to use the pansies as a secondary draw in the tourism guide. He said it was always good to have several listings for an area and he thought the pansies could be a small footnote in the guide.

“Flowers are God's creation,” Mrs. Hargrove muttered as they walked out of the café. “They should get more than a footnote, especially when it's only an old piece of metal that is taking first place.”

“The stop sign is not taking first place,” Doris June said firmly. “It's the concert the kids are giving that will be the event. The stop sign is just a stage decoration.”

“It's a hazard is what it is,” Curt said as he walked beside Aaron. “As a state official, you probably want to report it to the highway maintenance department. They should replace it. Or just do away with it.”

“Let's walk by and see it,” Aaron said as he stepped off the café porch. “I haven't had a chance to see it yet. Isn't that the sign that inspired that song by Duane Enger, the Jazz Man? You know, he's really famous these days.”

“My sister used to date him,” Lucy said proudly as she turned to lead the way to the sign. “Before he was famous, of course.”

“Really? He lived around here?”

Lucy nodded. “He owned the café with my sister.”

“Really?” Aaron turned around and looked back. “The one where I just ate? We could put a sign up. That might be a stop on the tourist trail.”

“Jazz used to sing to the customers while my sister served them spaghetti dinners,” Lucy added. “She makes a great spaghetti sauce. They had a special going. It was the only thing the café served.”

“Don't forget about Custer's Last Stand.” Curt was leading the way down the road. “You know that's around here, too. Men died in that battle.”

“Oh, but that's in all of the guidebooks,” Aaron said. “Our book is about the offbeat stuff, you know, the little stuff that no one knows is in places. Local color.”

“Well, if you're looking for color, Edith's pansies are the prettiest color you'll see anywhere around,” Charley said. It took him a minute to realize no one had noticed he'd called Mrs. Hargrove by her given name. Of course, that might be because it looked like there was an argument brewing.

“I don't know what the point is of having a tourism guidebook if you don't guide the people to the important stuff,” Curt said. “You're just giving them things that they could find in their own backyard.”

“Not anymore, they can't,” Aaron said. “You don't realize how unique small towns like Dry Creek are. Most people live in urban areas where no one would remember the history of a stop sign.”

“Lucky them,” Curt muttered. “I'm not so sure there's any reason to remember the history of this one.”

Doris June never did understand how Aaron got them all to agree to do an educational panel to go with the concert. They were standing beside the old stop sign and she had been bending down to read some of the initials carved on the post. When she looked up, Aaron was scribbling some notes on a piece of paper he'd pulled from somewhere.