Forever Friday (28 page)

I lit the candelabra and gazed again at this unusual woman. A candlelit supper from the health food store, eaten in the back of an old pickup, in the middle of big-city-nowhere. It was exactly what Huck and Gabe would’ve done.

“Okay,” she said. “How about we bless it first?”

“Do what? Oh, you mean say grace.”

Yevette understood my apprehension and voiced a simple thank-you prayer. The only time Haley and I ever prayed was when the Texas Lotto grew above thirteen million. And even then, we never actually
prayed
, only joked about it.

“This property is where Epsom Downs was located,” Yevette said. “And we’re parked on the backstretch.” She dipped a carrot piece into the hummus. “After betting was outlawed and the track folded, they sold off the land at bargain prices.”

“And Huck and Gabe purchased it as an investment.”

“Gabe did. Huck wanted it because of what happened here.”

I laughed. “And opening day was on Thanksgiving?”

“It was the largest pari-mutuel track in Texas, seating some ten thousand people. However, twenty-five thousand showed up for the first race.” Yevette ate her carrot.

“Are you a historian?” I followed suit with the hummus, but with an apple slice.

“A
Huck
historian. Even with dementia, she rarely forgot an important detail. Huck said that outside the gates, vendors sold everything from hotdogs to furniture.”

“So … they bought the candelabra at the racetrack?”

Yevette took a piece of bread. “Don’t get ahead. You’ll miss something.”

“Yes ma’am. Now hand over the bread.”

She continued. “Get this: a group of sailors calling themselves The Epsom Salts entertained the crowd with Texas swing music. Bob Wills’s intricate fiddle arrangements.”

“So famous Bob sold the candelabra to them?”

“Hardly, but an old cowboy did. While Huck sat and listened to the music, Gabe walked to a nearby booth. The proprietor was a saddle maker and a silversmith. I remember Gabe laughing and mimicking his western drawl. I was little and had no idea why. But I’d sit on his lap and beg him to talk that way.”

“So, lil’ lady,” I said in my best John Wayne imitation, “how much did they give fer it?”

“That’s the strange part. It was during the Great Depression, so Gabe was only willing to spend five dollars.”

“Five dollars?” I almost choked on the bread. “Even back then, a sterling silver candelabra this size would be way more.”

“The cowboy ordered Gabe to get
Mr. Abraham Lincoln
out of his pocket and bet him on Humdinger in the fourth race.”

“And Gabe won?”

“ ‘Life’s too short not to take a chance,’ the cowboy told him,
‘specially when yore in love.’
Gabe’s winnings were the cost of the candelabra, to the penny.”

“And Huck thinks the old cowboy was Mister Jack?”

“She had her suspicions but didn’t let on. Then, before they left the track, Huck saw an old cowboy in the distance who walked with a familiar limp.”

“Lots of old men walk with a limp,” I said.

“She just left Gabe standing there and ran after him, but lost the cowboy in the crowd. Remembering the booth where Gabe had gone, she ran back to it. The old cowboy wasn’t there, but propped in the corner was a handmade yellow-pine cane.” Yevette faced me. “Go ahead and say it.”

“What?”

“That thousands of canes in this part of Texas were handmade, most out of yellow pine.”

Yevette met my smile, then gazed at the burning candles. “This particular cane had playing card suits carved on the handle.”

Again, I was at a loss for words.

Yevette reached into the sack and handed me an envelope.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Gabe’s final postcard. But don’t read it now.”

“Why?” I stared at the envelope.

“Because you’ll need awhile to think about it.”

I got the feeling it was time for me to leave. “And after I think about it?”

She reached over and squeezed my hand, the one holding the envelope. “Call me. We’ll meet again so I can finish telling you their story.”

“How about here?”

Yevette smiled brighter than the candelabra. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to meet in Texas City.”

April 1947

Galveston, Texas

Huck and Gabe stood under the marbled portico of the swanky Hotel Galvez as a valet delivered their third version of Blue Norther, a new Oldsmobile 98 convertible. Its gleaming white canvas top and sky-blue exterior made it the most beautiful and luxurious automobile they had ever owned. Both previous cars, hard tops and darker in color, had been more than adequate, providing dependable transportation from the beginning of their marriage past the end of World War II. But Gabe had been promoted to a top-level accountant at Gulf, so they’d splurged.

After opening Huck’s door, Gabe tipped the valet and walked around to the driver’s side. He slid in behind the wheel, shifted gears, and sped down the palm-lined drive to Seawall Boulevard.

“You should have let the valet open my door,” Huck said casually. “It’s part of his job.”

“I tipped the man.” Gabe smiled. “Why give him the pleasure of opening your door too?”

Huck returned his smile and scooted closer. After twenty-one years of marriage, he still loved to surprise her. “So where are you taking me this evening? Dinner? Dancing?”

“Since we’re in Galveston, I thought it might be fun to go somewhere from our first date.”

“The International Pageant of Pulchritude?”

“Nope. Those gals are homely compared to you. Besides, the pageant folded during the Depression.” He gazed toward the beach. “Let’s see. Somewhere out over the water, there’s a romantic little restaurant that serves pink champagne. We have reservations at seven.”

“Mermaids?” Huck squeezed his leg. “Don’t be silly. It was destroyed in a hurricane.”

“Exactly why we’ve never been back.” He glanced in her direction, raising his eyebrows. “But when I phoned the owners last month and explained that we’d be on the island for three nights, they rebuilt it just for us.”

“Anything you say, darling.” Huck kissed his cheek. There had been a piece in the newspaper about Galveston rebuilding some of its most popular beachfront businesses, but she hadn’t paid much attention.

“What? Don’t you believe my story?” Gabe grinned a crooked grin.

“Absolutely not. But I will say it’s hard to doubt a face so insincere.”

“My sentiments exactly … I think.”

Huck laughed softly, thrilled to be away from Houston in the middle of the week. Sidney Lanier was on spring holiday, and she didn’t have to teach. Since Gabe had business the next two mornings across the bay in Texas City, she’d grade term papers while he worked, but afternoons would be spent relaxing together.

She studied her husband’s strong profile, his hairline receding slightly more than it did when they’d met, beginning to gray at the temples. A year or so back, she’d noticed some gray in her own hair, so had it dyed once a month at The Lady Texan Beauty Salon, a ritzy downtown establishment whose sign boasted: “A Place Where Men Are Rare And Women Are Well-Done!”

A few minutes later, Gabe pulled into the newly paved parking lot of Mermaids. The restaurant was much larger than Huck remembered, most of the inside reconstructed into open-air seating. In the center, a beautiful blonde wearing a mermaid costume swam in a giant champagne glass. A group of sailors shared cocktails at a nearby table, vying for her attention.

“She’s almost indecent,” Huck whispered after the headwaiter had seated them. “Swimsuits have become risqué since the Pageant of Pulchritude.”

“That’s a mermaid suit,” Gabe replied, then chuckled. “And it’s why those navy boys are sitting there.”

Huck wrinkled her nose with playful indignation. “All men have disgusting minds, even you.”

“We try not to disappoint.”

After ordering a bottle of pink champagne, they decided on the house specialty: grilled red snapper, served with a tangy chili-lime sauce.

“Oh my,” Huck said, reaching for her glass after the first bite. “I’ve never tasted fish so … grilled.”

“A spicy innovation from our Mexican neighbors.” Gabe chuckled. “It is much different than the fried fare we’re accustomed to.”

Huck could eat only half of her order and pushed the rest across the table for him to finish. She sipped her drink and peered out into the vast Gulf of Mexico. There was a certain majesty about ocean sunsets. The brilliant ball of light, transforming into every color of the rainbow before dipping into the darkening sea. On their first date, this was the time of day they’d stumbled upon the porch swing, which Gabe had later copied for their honeymoon.

“What lovely thoughts lie behind those coffee eyes?” he asked after lighting a cigarette.

“Oh, just remembering when we discovered that beach house.”

“And you had to use the privy?” He laughed.

“You would recall that part.” She reached across the table for his hand. “Remember the porch swing?”

“Vaguely.”

“Gabe Alexander!”

He exhaled, the soft sea breeze pushing the smoke inland. “My guess is that unless a storm reclaimed that section of beach, our special swing is still there.”

“Let’s go and see.”

“Tonight? But I have to work in the morning.”

Huck leaned across the table and whispered. “Remember how we cuddled close in the swing?”

“I’ll never forget.”

“And you behaved like the perfect gentleman?”

Gabe nodded.

Turning her head, Huck stared at the mermaid, then returned her attention. “There’s no need to be a gentleman tonight … sailor boy.”

Gabe snuffed out his smoke. “Waiter,” he called. “Check please!”

“I think I ate too much,” Gabe said as they drove west along the island. “Either that, or my trousers have shrunk.”

“The day we married we promised we were going to watch our waistlines,” Huck said, then laughed.

“My stomach must have been sleeping during
that
conversation.”

As predicted, the swing was still there, hanging underneath the crude bungalow built on stilts. And even though a row of modern weekend houses had been constructed just up the beach, they had no trouble locating the secluded spot where they’d first bared their souls.

“Isn’t trespassing exciting?” Not waiting for Gabe’s answer, Huck hopped out of the car and kicked off her shoes before twirling around in a circle. “I don’t think this place is ever used.”

“We have the world to ourselves.” Gabe climbed out of the driver’s side and walked over to the swing. “This is it all right. A good bit more weathered than I remember and full of sand.”

“Let’s write down the address and send the owner an anonymous thank-you,” Huck said, scampering back to the car. She put the top down and turned on the radio, keeping the volume low so they could still hear the gentle splash of surf along the beach.

Gabe emptied the sand, then laughed. “To whom it may concern:
Thank you for the use of your gritty swing and old-fashioned restroom facilities.” He paused. “Now would you look at that. Privy’s gone. What’s my dear wife going to do after all that champagne?”

“Hush and take off your shoes so we can dance,” she ordered. “The DJ just announced he’d play ‘Moonlight Serenade.’ ”

“Okay, but first let me loosen my belt. You don’t want to dance with a man who’s miserable.”

As stars began to glitter the sky, they barefooted to a romantic selection of big-band ballads. And just like so many years before, Huck felt herself drift helplessly under the enchanted spell of soul mates. But this time it didn’t matter how deeply she showed her affection.

This time she wasn’t engaged to another man.

This time she was with her husband.

Gazing into his sea-sky eyes, she kissed him. Throughout their marriage, she felt it proper for him to make the first move, but not now.