Gilbert Morris (6 page)
Authors: The Angel of Bastogne
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Ardennes; Battle of The; 1944-1945, #Christmas & Advent, #Christian, #Historical Fiction, #World War; 1939-1945, #Angels, #Christmas Stories, #Christian Fiction, #Religion, #Sagas, #Religious, #Historical, #Reporters and Reporting - Illinois - Chicago, #Holidays, #Veterans, #Christmas, #Love Stories
“How is Willie? He'll never tell me a thing about how he is except I know he's in the hospital.”
“He's gone down pretty fast, I'm afraid, Lonnie.”
“I hate to hear that.”
Dove Shoulders warmed up barbecue, and neither Ben nor Charlene argued at the huge servings they got. They also had fried potatoes and creamed corn along with fresh-baked rolls.
As they ate, Lonnie asked question after question about Willie, and Ben was embarrassed that he could not tell him more.
“What about your family, Dove?” Charlene suddenly asked.
“Well, you shouldn't have asked because I was gonna tell you anyway. We have three children, two girls and one son.”
“He looks like me, worst luck,” Lonnie laughed. “But on the other hand the girls look like their ma, so better that way than the other way around.”
“Our son's been a missionary in Iran for the past eight years,” Dove added.
Both Ben and Charlene stared at the couple. Finally Ben cleared his throat. “That's pretty hard, isn't it? I mean, they don't welcome missionaries over there.”
“No. You have to go as something else. David's a scientist. Got him a Ph.D. in botany. He's over there tellin' 'em how to grow better crops. So he has to do his witnessing like that. Can't have churches or anything.”
“That's a very dangerous world he's in, especially for Christians,” Charlene said. “I know you're very proud of him.”
“I'm as proud as a cat with two tails,” Lonnie Shoulders nodded vehemently. “He's a good boy, David. He always was.
All I ever done was rodeo, and here is this boy of mine goin' over preachin' the Lord Jesus to people that need to hear it.”
Dove then left the table and soon returned with an apple pie, and, despite their protests, both Ben and Charlene ate small pieces.
Ben took notes copiously about the family, took snapshots of them with his Nikon, and got them to sign releases for using them.
“I've often wondered why you didn't write about your pa. He sends us your pieces, you know,” Lonnie said. “I keep 'em all.”
Ben felt inordinately pleased at this. It made him feel a little bit better.
“You know,” Lonnie said, “if it wasn't for your dad, none of this would be here. I'd have been buried over there somewhere around Bastogne. I'd never have married Dove, we'd never have had our children.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “And there wouldn't have been no David to go to Iran and tell them people that Jesus died for them.” A thought crossed his dark eyes, black as obsidian, and he said softly, “You know, Ben, it's kind of like your dad went over there himself!”
* * *
The lights of Billings glittered below as the plane gained altitude. Ben had said very little after they had left the Shoulders property. He had returned the car while Charlene checked the plane, and now he sat thinking over what had happened.
“What are you thinking about, Ben?”
“I was thinking about the Shoulders family. They're fine people. You know?”
He broke off suddenly and shook his head.
“What is it, Ben?”
“Something I don't like to admit.”
Charlene lifted the plane higher with the touch of her hands and said quietly, “Sometimes confession's good.”
“I know, but it's hard, too.” He was silent for a time and then said, “The thing is, Charlene, I've always been ashamed of my dad. He never seemed to do anything. He came home from the war and tried several businesses, and finally we wound up with a little newsstand. He got sick, and I had to take care of it most of the time. I guess I've always resented that.”
“It must have been hard on a young boy.”
“I didn't make many excuses for my dad. I always thought he could have done better.”
Charlene Delaughter suddenly reached out and put her hand on Ben's arm. She squeezed it and said, “I don't know your father, but if people like the Shoulderses think so much of him, I'd venture to guess that your dad did the best he could.”
The words cut Ben Raines like a razor, for he had had exactly the same thought. He could not think of a single word to say in his own defense, so he sat there silently as the plane moved rapidly through the darkness.
Charlene Delaughter held the Cessna on course, but her mind was on the man who sat beside her. She turned and
studied his profile, not certain of how she felt about him. He was an attractive man, of that she was sureâbut there seemed to be something troubling him.
He's a man without a star.
Charlene had read of the ancient navigators who steered their frail ships across trackless seas by the light of one dim star. She'd always admired such men, and now as she cast another glance at Ben Raines' profile, she thought,
He's lost
and afraidâand he can't admit it.
She said nothing, but knew that somehow God had put the two of them together for some purpose more important than a newspaper story.
The weather is getting worse, isn't it?”
“Yes, quite a bit.” Charlene leaned forward and peered out into the dark clouds that seemed to wrap the plane as in a blanket. “I don't like to fly in stuff like this.”
“Maybe we ought to set down somewhere,” Ben said. “Could we do that?”
“That's what I'd like to do. Let me see if I can contact the nearest airport. Probably have to be a regional airport.”
Ben sat bolt upright, trying to hold the plane up by his willpower while Charlene called several airports. Finally she turned to him and said, “There's a small airport about five minutes from here. The tricky part is getting down in this stuff. You can't see anything until you're right on the ground.”
“I don't guess you can make an instrument landing.”
Charlene shook her head. “No, that's for big jets with all kinds of equipment that they have at big airports. Here it's just ooze down a little bit at a time and hope you don't encounter anything nasty like a TV tower or something like that.”
It irked Ben that he could do absolutely nothing to help. He liked to be in control of things, and here he was as helpless as a baby. His life was completely in the hands of this woman who sat beside him. He studied her covertly, noticing that while she was alert there seemed to be no sign of fear. That eased his mind somewhatâbut not completely.
“Here we are,” Charlene said and seemed to expel her breath. “Now we can see a little something.”
Indeed, they had dropped below the cloud cover, and although a freezing rain was falling steadily there was visibility enough to see the ground. “How will you find the airport?”
“Look for it. It's the only way, but it shouldn't be too hard.”
Five minutes later Charlene said, “Look! There's the strip right there.”
“Looks awfully small.”
“Probably was a private airport that they designated as a regional airport, but there'll be plenty of room for us.”
Charlene brought the plane in perfectly, and as soon as she taxied up to the hangar and shut the engine off, Ben expelled a sigh of relief. “Well, I don't know about you, but I'm glad to be here.”
“I was a little bit worried myself. There's not much we can do about the weather. We may have to stay here all night and maybe tomorrow. Do you have anybody you need to call?”
“Not really.”
“Well, I do. I have to have someone go in and take care of Tammy.”
“Tammy? Who's that?”
“My cat. Come on. Let's see if we can find a place to stay.”
The two got out of the plane and found nobody inside the hangar. “Service with a smile,” Ben said. “What do we do now?”
“We'll call a cab, and he can take us to a motel for the night. There's a small town over there somewhere about five miles away according to the map. They probably will have a Knotty Pine Motel.”
* * *
The motel was called the Royal Motel, but there was little royal about it. It consisted of eight small, identical cabins, and they had five vacancies. They took a cabin apiece, and Ben asked the sleepy-eyed clerk, “Could we get a meal? Where's the best place to eat around here?”
“The Elite Café. It's the best place. It's the worst place, too.” He grinned and said, “It's the only place that'll be open this time of the night. Don't eat the steak.”
“What's wrong with it?”
“They're awful.” The clerk was a young, pimply-faced man with the beginnings of a beard that was a mistake.
He probably grew it,
Ben thought, to
hide his complexion and to give him
a little maturity, but it seems to emphasize both the complexion and
the immaturity.
“Where is it?”
“Right down the street there, three blocks, and it's right on the highway. You can't miss it. It'll have a sign outside: âMom's Place.'”
“You know what Hemingway said about that, don't you?” Charlene said. “He said, âNever play cards with a man called Doc and never eat at a place called Mom's.'”
“Well, we got candy bars and cheese and crackers in the machine.”
“I guess we'll try Mom's,” Ben said.
The two left the motel, and as they walked along, Ben saw that the town itself basically straddled the highway. It was, more or less, a strip mall with a few side streets. “I'd hate to live in this place,” he said.
“Probably some pretty nice people here.”
“But it's so dreary.”
“Some of them probably think it's a great place to live. They'd hate it if you made them live in Chicago or any other big city.”
“Well, there's Mom's Place. I hope the Board of Health has been keeping a close watch.”
Mom's Place was a storefront café with the lights shining out into the gloomy darkness that had fallen now. When they stepped inside, the warmth came at them with a rush, and Ben said, “Well, it smells good.”
Mom's Place consisted of one large room with a door leading to the kitchen. There were ten tables with tablecloths that didn't match, nor did some of the chairs. A radio was playing country western music, and Ben grinned wryly. “What
a break. We get music with our dinner. I don't think there's going to be a hostess. How about right over here?”
The two sat down at a table that was covered with a red and white checked tablecloth. The toothpicks were in an empty Tabasco bottle, and the salt and pepper shakers were in enormous aluminum containers. An oversized bottle of Tabasco sauce completed the condiments.
Three of the tables were occupied, two of them by couples and one by a solitary man who looked like a truck driver. All of them had turned their attention to the newcomers, and the truck driver called out, “Mom! Customers!”
The swinging door to the kitchen opened, and a short woman, round as a beach ball, came out. She was in her late fifties, and her hair was drawn back in a bun. She wore no makeup and no ring. The sleeves of her dress came down to her wrists, and the hem of her dress was well below her knees. “Good to see you. Pretty cold out tonight.”
“It's getting worse, I think,” Ben said.
“You two stayin' over?”
“The weather got us, so we'll have to stay until it clears up.”
“Well, hope you enjoy your stay.” The woman had a moon-round face and large brown eyes, also round. She was pleasant-looking and said, “What can I bring you?”
“Do you have a menu?”
“There it is on the wall.”
Ben and Charlene turned to see a chalkboard with the selections available. Ben studied them and said, “I guess I'll have the pork roast.”
“We got potatoes and carrots with that and fresh baked bread.”
“I'll have the same,” Charlene said quickly.
“What'll you have to drink?”
“Coffee for meâdecaf,” Ben said.
“Me, too. No cream.”
“Won't be long. Just set right there.”
“I'll wait until you get here,” Ben grinned. He saw the woman was amused by his remark.
“There ain't no place else to run to in this townâif you're hungry, that is.” She turned and walked away, and Ben said, “Seems like a pleasant lady.”
“I think she's a Pentecostal lady. Notice that bun?”
“Sure did. It's got her hair so tight her eyes look slanted.”
They both sat there until Mom brought the food back. The serving of meat was enormous, as were the vegetables. The butter was in a round mound instead of being in small squares and wrapped in tinfoil. “Made this butter myself. You can't get that in the big city.”
“You sure can't, and that bread smells delicious,” Charlene said.
“You want to bless the food, or do you want me to do it for you?” Mom said, looking down at them.
Ben was suddenly amused. “I guess you'd better do it for us, Mom. You've probably had more practice than I have.”
The woman bowed her head and began praying loudly enough for everyone in the café to hear it. “Lord, bless
this food and bless this man and this woman. May they be washed in the blood of the Lamb, saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Ghost. In Jesus' name. Amen.”
Charlene looked up with a broad smile. “That was a wonderful blessing. Thank you, Mom.”
“Are you a sanctified girl?”
“I sure am.”
“What about you, Sonny? You walkin' in the light?”
“I guess you'd call me a searcher.”
“Well, the Bible says, âThey that seek me, they shall find me.' The good Lord said that Himself. So, you go ahead and eat, and I'll be here if you want refills.”
“Thank you,” Ben said. “It looks delicious.”
“That was some blessing,” Ben said as he began to cut the pork roast. He put a bite in his mouth, and his eyes opened wide. “This is terrific!”
“It sure is. She spiced it up somehow or other.”
“The vegetables are good, too.” They ate hungrily, and Ben glanced over at Mom who had brought coffee out to refill the cups. She carried it in an old-fashioned aluminum coffee pot that looked like it would hold a gallon. “There aren't many women like her around these days.”
“I think not. They're almost an endangered species.” She picked up the huge mug of coffee, sipped it, and said, “What kind of woman are you looking for, Ben?”
“Looking for? What do you mean?”
“Well, you don't intend to die a crusty old bachelor, do you?”
“That's possible. To tell the truth, I don't really understand women.”
“Well I'm glad you admit it. Women can be dangerous to a man. You know,” she said as humor flickered in her eyes, “there was a poet named Graves who wrote about a girl who could fade the purple out of cloth and tarnish mirrors with her look.”
“Must have been some woman.”
“I think she was. Graves said she could walk between two men and if no appropriate prayer was said, one of them would die.”
“I'd like to meet that gal.”
The dinner was pleasant, and they lingered over it as long as possible. “I hate to go back to that motel room.”
“So do I. The lonesomest place in the world is a motel room all by yourselfâunless it's a Greyhound Bus Station with lots of people.” Charlene said, “I bet Mom's got some good pie. Let's buy one and take it back to the motel with us. We'll stay up and watch whatever's on television and eat pie all night.”
“What if she doesn't have pie?”
“Mom always has pie. You wait and see.” She raised her voice and said, “Mom, do you have any pie?”
“All I got left is apricot, apple, and peach.”
“Could you fix us one in a paper plate that we could take with us?”
“I sure can. Which kind you want?”
“What do you like, Ben?”
“Peach sounds good to me. My mom used to make peach pies.”
“Peach it is, Mom.”
Mom disappeared and came back shortly with a pie covered with aluminum foil. “This ought to put some meat on your bones,” she said. She put the pie down, and Ben pulled out his billfold. “How much do I owe you?”
“How much you think it was worth?” Mom smiled. “You know, in our church one time our preacher said, âPut in what God tells you to, and if you got a need, take out what God tells you to.'”
Both Ben and Charlene laughed. “Did you have any money left in that offering?”
“Shore did. Best offering we ever had. I guess ten dollars ought to cover it.”
Ben put down fifteen dollars and said, “It was delicious. We'll probably see you for breakfast in the morning.”
“Well, I'm cuttin' back on my breakfast, I'm afraid. I won't have anything but pancakes, eggs, ham, grits, red-eye gravy and biscuits.”
“Well, life is tough. We'll just have to put up with it as best we can,” Ben said. “Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, and you keep a-searchin' for the Lord, young man.”
“I will, Mom.”
The two walked out into the cold, wet night and hurried back to the motel.
“Let's go in my cabin. I think they only get the network, but there's bound to be something on we can watch if it's only the news.”
The two went into Charlene's room and put the pie down. Then Ben went off to see if he could locate some coffee. The
young clerk said, “Sure. I keep coffee on all night. Come and get it any time you want it. No charge.”
“Thanks,” Ben said and hurried back. He saw a look of light dancing in Charlene's eyes, and she was smiling. “What are you laughing about?” he said.
“You're going to love the movie.”
“How do you know?”
“They just told what it was going to be. Guess?”
“Why, I have no idea. I hope it's not one of Stephen King's horrors. I can't stand those things!”
“Oh no. You're going to love this, Ben.
It's a Wonderful
Life.
”
Ben suddenly began laughing. “I cannot get away from that movie!”
“I don't think any of us can. It's part of Americana. Well, sit down and we'll have our first slice of pie and coffee.”
The two sat down and watched the movie. During the course of it, they ate small slices of pie. There was no way to heat it up, for there was no microwave, but it was delicious in any case.
“I don't understand why this movie's so popular,” Ben said at one point. “It's not the best acting in the world, although it's pretty good. I like Lionel Barrymore especially. Old Man Potter, he is really a tough case, isn't he?”
“I think it's popular because people want life to be good. They want the underdog to win.”
“Well, the underdog usually gets stomped.”
“You know what? This is a Godless movie.”
Ben had been sipping his coffee that had grown tepid. “What do you mean, âGodless'?”
“I mean nobody goes to church. Nobody says anything about the Lord. It's a world without God.”
