Morning Glory

They laughed and the day lost its bleakness. Their smiles brought a gladness missing till now. While their gazes lingered longer than intended, the fact struck: they were chugging off to the courthouse to get married. Married. Husband and wife forever. Had they been alone, Will might have said something appropriate to the occasion, but Donald Wade moved, cutting off his view of Eleanor.

'We done good on the driveway huh, Will?' The boy cupped Will’s jaw, forcing his direct attention.

'We sure did, short stuff.' He ruffled Donald Wade’s hair. 'But I got to watch the road.'

Yes, they’d done good. Guiding the wheel of the Model T, Will felt as he had the day he’d bought the candy bars and bluebird-heated and good inside, expansive and optimistic. In a few hours they would be his 'family.' Putting pleasure on their faces put pleasure on his own. And it suddenly didn’t matter so much that he had no gold ring to offer Eleanor.

Her elation dimmed, however, as they approached Whitney. When they passed the house with the drawn shades she stared straight ahead, refusing to glance at the place. Her lips formed a grim line and her hands tightened on Thomas’s hips.

Will wanted to say, I know about that house, Eleanor. It don’t matter to me. But a glance at her stiff pose made him bite back the words.

'Got to stop at the filling station,' he mentioned, to distract her. 'It’ll only take a minute.'

The man at the station cast overt, speculative glances at Eleanor, but she stared straight ahead like one walking through a graveyard at midnight. The attendant gave Will the twice-over, too, and said, 'Nasty weather brewin’, looks like.'

Will only glanced at the sky.

'Feller’d be happy to have a car on a day like this,' the attendant tried again while his eyes darted to Eleanor.

'Yup,' Will replied.

'Goin’far?' the man inquired, obviously less interested in pumping gas than in gawking at Eleanor and trying to puzzle out who Will might be and why they were together.

'Nope,' Will answered.

'Goin’ up Calhoun way?'

Will gave the man a protracted stare, then let his eyes wander to the gas pump. 'Five gallons comin’ up.'

'Oh!' The pump clicked off, Will paid 83 cents and returned to the car, leaving the attendant unenlightened.

When they were on their way again and had left Whitney behind, Eleanor relaxed.

'Someone you know?' Will inquired.

'I know ’em all and they all know me. I seen him gawkin’.'

'Prob’ly ’cause you’re lookin’ right pretty this mornin’.'

His words did the trick. She turned a wide-eyed look his way and her ears turned pink. Cheeks, too, before she transferred her attention to the view ahead.

'You don’t need to make up pretty words just ’cause it’s my weddin’ day.'

'Wasn’t makin’ ’em up.'

And somehow he felt better, having spoken his mind and given her a touch of what a bride deserves on her wedding day. Better yet, he’d made her forget the house with the picket fence and the gawking gas station attendant.

The ride took them through some of the prettiest country Will had ever seen-rolling hills and gurgling creeks, thick stands of pine and oaks just beginning to turn a faint yellow. Outside, the mist put a sheen on each leaf and rock and turned the roads a vibrant, glistening orange. Wet tree trunks appeared coal black against the pearl-gray sky. The road curved and looped, the elevation constantly dropping until they rounded a bend and saw Calhoun nestled below.

Situated in a long narrow valley, the lowest spot between Chattanooga and Atlanta, the town stretched out along the tracks of the L & N Railroad, which had spawned its growth. U.S. 41 became Wall Street, the main street of town. It paralleled the tracks and carried travelers into a business section that had taken on the same rangy shape as the steel rails themselves. The streets were old, wide, built in the days when mule and wagon had been the chief mode of transportation. Now there were more Chevrolets than mules, more Fords than wagons, and, as in Whitney, blacksmith shops doubling as filling stations.

'You know Calhoun?' Will inquired as they passed a row of neat brick houses on the outskirts.

'Know where the courthouse is. Straight ahead on Wall Street.'

'Is there a five-and-dime somewhere?'

'A five-and-dime?' Eleanor flashed him a puzzled look but he watched the road beyond the radiator cap. 'What do you want with a five-and-dime?'

'I’m gonna buy you a ring.' He’d decided it somewhere between the compliment and Calhoun.

'What’s a five-and-dime, Mommy?' Donald Wade interrupted.

Eleanor ignored him. 'Oh, Will, you don’t have-'

'I’m gonna buy you a ring, I said, then you can take his off.'

His insistence sent a flare to her cheeks and she stared at his stubborn jaw until the warmth spread down to her heart. She turned away and said meekly, 'I already did.'

Will shot a glance at her left hand, still resting on the baby’s hip. It was true-the ring was gone. On the steering wheel his grip relaxed.

Donald Wade patted his mother’s arm, demanding, 'What’s a five-and-dime, Mommy?'

'It’s a store that sells trinkets and things.'

'Trinkets? Can we go there?'

'I reckon that’s where Will’s takin’ us first.' Her eyes wandered to the driver and found him watching her. Their gazes locked, fascinated.

'Oh-boy!' Donald Wade knelt on the seat, balancing himself against the dashboard, staring at the town with unbridled fascination. 'What’s that, Mommy?' He pointed. She didn’t hear and he whapped her arm four times. 'Mommy, what’s that?'

'Better answer the boy,' Will advised quietly, and turned his attention back to the street, releasing her to do the same.

'A water tower.'

Baby Thomas repeated, 'Wa-doo tow-woo.'

'What’s that?' Donald Wade asked.

'A popcorn wagon.'

'Pop-cone,' the baby echoed.

'They sell it?'

'Yes, son.'

'Goll-eee! Can we git some?'

'Not today, dear. We got to hurry.'

He watched the wagon until it disappeared behind them and Will mentally tallied up the remainder of his money. Only six bucks, seventy-eight cents, and he had to buy a ring and a license yet.

'What’s that?'

'A theater.'

'What’s a theater?'

'A place where they show movies.'

'What’s a movie?'

'Well, it’s sort of a picture story that moves on a big screen.'

'Can we see it?'

'No, honey. It costs money.'

The marquee said Border Vigilantes,and Will noted how both Donald Wade’s and Eleanor’s eyes lingered on it as they passed. Six measly bucks and seventy-eight measly cents. What he wouldn’t do for full pockets right now.

Just then he spotted what he was looking for, a brick-fronted building with a sign announcing, WISTER’S VARIETY-HOUSEWARES, TOYS & SUNDRIES.