“Of course he did. How do you think I pumped out all those kids back there? They weren’t sending my Dickey home in a box, oh no sirree. The night he returned . . . well, I won’t bore you with the details.” She cackled softly to herself, then took the photograph from my hands.
As she gazed upon it, I tried picturing a young Letty and Dickey, their whole lives ahead of them.
She continued. “We didn’t have a pot to piss in, but the day he left, he gave me his senior class ring and a promise—a promise to replace it with a real one when he came back. I wore that class ring on my finger for sixteen months. Never took it off until the day he returned. He kept his promise and a month later we were married, then after a year, along came the first of five children. We were married twenty-three years, until his lungs gave out, and I haven’t been with another man since. I still have that ring, right there in the top drawer. It’s got little red jewels around the edge and says Class of ’42.”
I opened the nightstand drawer, but only saw some stationery, a half dozen pens, and a few loose photographs.
“I don’t see it,” I said.
Letty kicked her feet up on the bed and lay her head on the pillow. “I’m sure it’s there somewhere.” She yawned. “Too much dancing.”
“Here’s your water,” I said, handing her the glass.
She sat up and took a long drink. “Thanks. Now go on. You’re too young to be hanging out with this old bag of bones. There’s a beautiful girl waiting out there for you. Take her somewhere special tonight.”
“We’re going to the Route 34 Drive-In to see a movie. Axl is letting me borrow his pickup so we can lie down in the back.”
Letty nodded, then thought for a moment. “I have a better idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Take her out to Old Dump Road, all the way until the clearing. It’s far from the city lights, the darkest place for miles. You can see the whole Milky Way on a clear night. Is it clear tonight?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Go out there, watch the stars. No one will be around. Make some memories; they’re better than movies.”
Her eyelids started to drift shut. I turned out her lamp, dimming the room to the soft glow of a plug-in nightlight. Letty burrowed under the covers, pantsuit and all, and I tucked her in.
“Happy birthday, Letty. See you tomorrow,” I said.
Before I walked away, she grabbed my hand and looked me in the eye. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in ninety years—remember the good stuff, kiddo. Nothing else matters.”
“I’ll remember, Letty.”
I quietly shut the door.
Rose and I bounced on the bench seat of Axl’s truck like two bobblehead dolls. Old Dump Road lived up to the “old” part, but Old Pothole Road would have more accurately described its current state.
Earlier, we’d helped drop off serving trays and catering gear at the café. Every last morsel of food had been consumed at the party, and everyone had raved about it, especially the brownies. Crash took a handful of my mom’s business cards and promised to pass them out at the Beauty Saloon. Mom was in such great spirits after that, she’d told us to leave everything in the kitchen, that she’d clean and put it all away herself.
The tall pines on either side of Old Dump Road rose like cliff walls, allowing very little moonlight through. The truck’s headlights illuminated thirty feet before us, but night swallowed everything else. After what felt like miles, the pines ended, opening into a field of tall prairie grass covered in dew, glistening in the moonlight. It looked like a painting.
“This must be it,” I said.
“It’s pretty,” said Rose.
I didn’t know why my heart was beating so fast. I did a U-turn so the truck bed faced the field, then turned off the engine and the headlights.
“Take a look?”
“Okay,” she said. I think she was smiling, but I couldn’t see her face in the dark of the truck.
We stepped out and craned our heads back to take in the cloudless sky.
“Letty was right,” I said. “That must be the Milky Way, right there.” I pointed to a dense band of stars that cut across the sky like a blurry scar.
“There’s Orion,” said Rose.
“Where?”
“There. You can see the three stars that make up his belt. There’s his arms and legs. He’s shooting an arrow.”
“I still don’t see it.”
Rose moved behind me. She pointed over my shoulder, resting her arm there. Her warm skin brushed my neck and sent a ripple of goose bumps down my back.
“There,” she whispered. Her face was next to mine, and I could smell the sweetness of her breath.
“Got it,” I said, although I didn’t.
It didn’t matter.
We stood like that for a while until she suggested we spread the blankets in the truck bed. I grabbed them from behind the seats and whipped them in the air, then smoothed them out. I lay on my back and wove my fingers behind my head. Rose curled up next to me and rested her head upon my chest. My heart pounded so hard it must have sounded like a kick drum.
“Are you nervous?” she asked.
“A little,” I replied. “Are you?”
“A little.”
I lay my hand on her side and felt it rise with her breathing, which quickened, as did mine—not out of fear, but the way it might at the top of a roller coaster before the big drop. Her hand found mine and our fingers interlaced. With my free hand I pulled the blanket around us and with the other, her into me.
We both laughed and we both breathed and we both lived. Nothing else mattered except us, right then.
THIRTY-ONE
THE FOLLOWING DAY, I SPENT MY VOLUNTEER HOUR CLEANING UP THE remains of Letty’s party. According to one of the Bettys, Letty was napping, still exhausted from her big night. As I stood atop a ladder pulling streamers from the ceiling, I replayed the whole evening in my head over and over, like a movie. From the band playing our first gig to my night under the stars with Rose, everything had been perfect.
Okay, more like imperfectly perfect. Or perfectly imperfect. No need to get bogged down in the details.
Rose and I had shared a look when I’d arrived, but it felt different than previous glances. By then I’d spent countless hours with Rose, but when I walked into Hilltop that afternoon, it felt like nothing needed to be said. We both knew what we both knew, and the private look we exchanged summed it all up.
Grub helped me clean, holding an open garbage bag below my ladder. We’d just finished with the last of the streamers when Mary wheeled out Blackjack, his wispy hair still sleep-matted to his head.
Mary parked her charge, then squatted down in front of Grub. “Hey there, soldier. Blackjack keeps repeating something about a mission, but I’m not sure what he means. I was wondering if you could help me out?”
“Sure.” Grub faced the wheelchair and stood at attention. “At your service, sir!”
A scowl twisted Blackjack’s face. “Who the hell are you?” he rasped.
Grub’s eyes went wide. He looked up at Mary, then at me. He looked back to Blackjack.
“Blackjack, do you remember your friend, Private Grub?” Mary asked, enunciating very clearly.
“It’s me,” said Grub, taking a careful step toward the wheelchair.
Blackjack stared at him vacantly, then, almost in a whisper, said, “My medals.”