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part 2 of the story
Penny Candy

© Carl Parsons, May 2022

    Lorna didn’t resist and didn’t answer. Charlie partially closed the bedroom door, enough to darken the room, then went back across the hall to Colton’s bedroom and stood there staring at his son’s empty bed, kept made up by his mother as though their son might arrive at any moment and pull down the blue quilt and the white sheets beneath it and fall inside the bed’s comfort again, exhausted from his long exile. Might do it this very evening. But he wouldn’t, Charlie knew he couldn’t, and so did Lorna. Because of the MIA telegraph. “I regret to report . . . your son is missing in action and presumed dead.”
    The telegraph came the very day after Colton’s own letter arrived, saying that he was finally in Vietnam. Thought he would be going out on patrol soon. Which he did. The letter from the Army that followed the telegraph told of an ambush and missing soldiers. Remains not found. It was all so fast and so unreal and so unbearably cold, cold as a grave beneath the winter’s snow. First, the draft notice. Then the sendoff party with Colton’s school chums and their favorite girls attending. Brave words and forced smiles all around. Then a few letters from bootcamp. Then his last letter—“I’m here in Vietnam and good as I can be, I guess.”
    Stress brought it all back to Lorna. “If they didn’t find him, he’s still alive. He has to be,” she reasoned. “They just don’t know where to look, that’s all. Most likely he’s hiding somewhere. He’s a smart boy. A clever boy. Smarter than all the others.” She said this for years afterwards. Wouldn’t even accede to Colton’s being a POW. “No, he’s hiding somewhere, that’s all,” she’d claim, “and as soon as he can, he’ll reveal himself, be found, come back to us! How could a child be taken away like that? Then just disappear? Snatched away by force of a letter and then given up for dead by a telegraph written by someone who didn’t even know him. Someone who has never laid eyes on him. It just can’t be. Such a thing can’t be, Charlie.” She said this over and over again. “It can’t happen to our son. Not to any boy from Locust Hill. At the right time Colton will reveal himself, I know he will,” she maintained. “Just as soon as he can, he’ll come home again. I know it. So must keep his room ready for him. God allows nothing less. Colton will return to us, Charlie, you’ll see.”
    And in her mind, he did return, often, in fact, especially when anxieties mounted for her. On his birthdays he would appear, birthdays Charlie now dreaded for their effect on her. When the war finally ended with no news for them, he appeared to his mother in a vision so real she claimed to touch the hairs on his arms. And when their daughter Evie married and moved away to Charlotte with a civil engineer for her husband and now three grandchildren for the grandparents to adore, their photos all about the house—even then Colton appeared, to be with his little sister and wish her well. For Lorna, Colton’s spirit brooded over all of their lives, even today.
    And now, called home again by this new threat, he beckoned to his mother from the top of the stairs. He needed her, she said. She for certain needed him. Charlie turned and looked at the empty spot where he’d often seen Colton standing to gaze out the window toward Shawnee Highway on the other side of the elementary school, the village’s main route to everywhere else. Planning a future he never got to pursue, Charlie guessed. He continued staring at the spot, until the doorbell rang. The Reverend Evander Beattie, Pastor of the Locust Hill Presbyterian Church, had arrived.

4. Consolation of Faith

    Charlie led Pastor Beattie, a genuine Scotsman, into the small parlor just to the left of the front door and invited him to sit on the blue settee which stood against the room’s soft grey wall while taking for himself the matching sofa chair across the room. There Charlie knew he could spot Lorna when she came down the stairs, as he hoped she soon would. The parlor was set off from the rest of the house by a glass paneled door for privacy of sound but not of sight.
    “Lorna’s lying down right now, Pastor. Had a bad incident a while ago. Thought she saw Colton again. Expect she’ll be down soon, though. Think I got to her in time,” Charlie explained, with his voice divided between hope and doubt.
    “What you told me on the phone about the store—you’re thinking that’s what’s disturbed her, Charlie? Is that what you’re thinking?”
    “Yes, nearly sure that’s it. Only thing that’s come up lately that might do it.”
    “Sad to hear it, Charlie, tis really sad. Both things, I mean, about Lorna and the store. But Lorna’s a lucky woman to have you to look after her and love her as you do.”
    “Thank you, Pastor. But what worries me most is that there’s likely more stress to come. As I said on the phone, I don’t see how we can save the store this time. We’ve retreated as much as we can. Been doing it for years. Yet somehow I have to keep the worries away from her. Otherwise, she’ll break like fine crystal dropped on a stone, I’m sure of that. It happened before, and I don’t know how to prevent it from happening again.”
    “You want me to speak with her, then? Is that what you’re wantin’, Charlie? That maybe I can help her find a wee bit of God’s peace?”
    “Yes, please, if you would. She trusts you. At the time we lost Colton, Pastor Danford was here. He helped us both so much, but especially Lorna. Perhaps he told you all that before he retired, God rest his soul.”
    “Aye, that he did. Told me she was even hospitalized for a while after it happened. Nervous breakdown, I believe he called it.”
    “Yes, it was, and I never want her to go through that again. But every once in a while, she thinks she sees Colton and loses her way, sometimes for an hour, sometimes for days. That’s what’s happened this evening. These specters or apparitions or whatever you might call them, they may not last for long, but when they do spring up, they have such a strong effect on her. It’s sorrowful to see.”
    “And they’re real to her then, aren’t they, Charlie?”
    “I’m afraid they are, very real. It’s the not knowing what actually happened to Colton, I think, that really distresses her the most and allows her to think he’s come back.”
    “Then we need to deal with these visions as though they are real, Charlie, since to her they truly are. Has she seen a doctor or a psychiatrist since the first time this happened?”
    “No. She did back then, of course, but we can’t afford that anymore. And don’t have insurance for it, either.”
    “I see.”
    “I should also tell you, Pastor, that I’ll be asking Jim Russell for his advice about what to do with the store, business-wise that is. I know he’s rather young still, and a Catholic, definitely not a Presbyterian, but he knows a lot about business. Makes dollars come from dirt every day it seems. And these days helps others do it as well.”
    “Yes, just as good farmers should, sustenance for themselves and the world about. Oh, I don’t blame you at all for asking Jim Russell—no, not at all. I like him, too, you know. He might belong to a different sect but not a different faith, leave us just say that, though some may disagree. And he’s done a lot to help people hereabout, you’re right there too. No one can deny it. One of the Keepers of the Village, isn’t he, this Jim? Just like you and Lorna?”
    “Yes, he is. For his part, he wants to keep Locust Hill as rural as it can be for as long as we can manage it, but without our getting left behind by the rest of the world. Don’t want that, either. Keep its spirit alive if nothing else, I guess you’d say. It’s a hard balance to strike—what to hold on to and what to let go of. But mostly Jim wants to keep the local family farms going. That’s his focus. And he’s had quite a bit of luck doing it, too. As for the other Keepers, their goals are a lot less definite than Jim’s—like just keeping the village tidied up every so often.”
    “And as for you, Charlie Crandall, you’d like to keep that general store of yours going, wouldn’t you?”
    “Yes, I sure would, in some fashion or form. That’s why I want to talk with Jim. That store is my family heritage, after all. I’d surely hate to be the one to close it.”
    “Well, there’s no other place that people see more as the center of life out here in Locust Hill, it seems to me, than that general store. When people think on the one, they’re quick to think on the other. Nary a one of our churches here about can make that claim. You’ve got a unique place there, Charlie—you and Lorna do—and you’re justified in being proud of it.”
    Then they heard the squeak of footsteps on the stairs. Lorna was creeping down the staircase. Charlie smiled in relief and lifted his forefinger to his lips to warn Pastor Beattie before calling out, “Lorna, that you?” Presently, without an answer to Charlie, she opened the door and popped her head inside the parlor, one hand on the door, the other on the sill.
    “Yes, it’s me.” She smiled brightly and seemed okay. “Good evening, Pastor Beattie. Sorry to be so late to welcome you. Would you like some tea? Got Scottish Blend.”
    “Oh yes, Lorna, that would be lovely, if it’s not any trouble for you.”
    “Not at all. I’ll be right back with it.” She went off to the kitchen, leaving the door ajar. Charlie began clearing items from the coffee table in front of the settee, a ceramic cow from Tom Lowery and a photo album with Colton’s graduation picture inside the photo slot on its cover. Pastor Beattie scooted to his right to make room for Lorna on the settee.
    She soon returned with a large pewter tray loaded with a steaming teapot, teacups and saucers, small dessert dishes, napkins, and a plate of five lemon bonbons. Charlie took the tray from her and placed it on the coffee table as she sat down next to Pastor Beattie.
    “You look as lovely as ever, Lorna, that I must say. Mrs. Beattie and I are always so amazed at you, how you manage to be so pert and pretty yet work six days a week. It’s a miracle, indeed, that’s what it is!”
    Lorna blushed before replying, “Maybe it’s the work itself—or more likely the people who come to the store who boost me up. The days fly by, I know that for certain. And so do the years.”
    “Charlie was telling me you had a bit of a fright this evening. That so?”
    “I guess you could call it that. I saw our son again.” Now she paused and lowered her head as though she were ashamed of her experience and uncertain about how to relate it.
    “I believe you, Lorna, I truly do. I believe you did see Colton. It’s entirely possible. He called to you, did he?”
    “Yes, he needed me for something, something upstairs. But when I got there, he was gone. It always happens that way.” Her voice broke a bit now. “And then I called for Charlie.” She looked across the room, looked into Charlie’s eyes, eyes turning moist now with sympathy for her. He nodded to her with a sad smile. She smiled a bit herself now, realizing that he needed her, too. “Guess I always turn to Charlie when I’m frightened—or ashamed.”
    “Ah, but no need for you to be either, Lorna. No, not at all, I say. What you saw was given to you, just to you, as a gift from God. Given just for you because of your special relationship with your son. It grew out of that relationship, you see. God allowed it to. And one day in Glory you will be with your son again, and he’ll tell you then all you’ve longed to know about his fate in this imperfect world of ours. God will see to it. These visions you have are but a preview of that time, I believe. Just a preview to give you a wee bit of relief, not at all meant to break you down. So don’t fret over them when they happen. No, dinna do that, for there’s no need for it. They’re meant instead for a comfort.”
    With her head still lowered, she replied, “I’ll try not to fret. I really will. I do see what you mean. It’s not been put to me like that before. Thank you, Pastor.”
    “But the reunion must come in its own good time and its own good way,” Pastor Beattie continued. “There’s nothing we can do, or should do, to try to change that or hasten it. Such things are in God’s hands, not ours. They are part of His Providence and Will, and well beyond our doubtful reach. And a good thing that is, too, when you think about it, Lorna, for what we suffer today, if we remain faithful and true, will be recompensed one day in Glory. Recompensed many times over, Lorna. That you must believe.”
    “I do believe it, Pastor Beattie, but it’s been so hard not to know about Colton and what happened to him. If he suffered at all. Or still does. Even when he appears to me, I don’t get a word from him about it. Just when I think I will, like this evening, he’s gone, vanishes without a word to me or his father. I thought for sure tonight when he called me to his room he’d tell me this time, but then, once again, he was gone, vanished. It’s a cross bigger than I can bear sometimes and so I slip back into my grief and can’t get out again. Just as though I’ve fallen into a deep dark well.”
    “Oh, but you can come out again, Lorna, rise up and stay in the light, too. Just be patient. Grief in such a case as yours is right and proper, but dinna grieve beyond measure. You’re a strong woman, I know you are. You’ll get through it all. And Charlie, good man that he is, he’s here to help you with all that comes your way. And so am I. And the others all around you at the church and in the store. There’s good people here in Locust Hill, as you yourself just said. So many angels, all in their own way. As good as any I’ve seen in this world, I can say that for certain.”
    “I know that’s true, Pastor Beattie. They come visit us every day at the store.”
    “Aye, that they do! So don’t you worry so, Lorna. You’ll be just fine, you will.”

5. Consolation of Reason

    They seated themselves on the worn yellow wooden bench with the Royal Crown Cola logo stenciled on its backrest in brown letters, now faded by years of sunlight and harsh weather.
    “The sun sure is warm this morning, Charlie.” Jim Russell was saying as he unbuttoned his khaki barn coat. “Whew, glad you wanted to talk out here. I can see why your cats are always in the window come morning, getting their vitamin D this way.”
    “Lot of generations of cats have enjoyed the morning sun in that window, Jim. No telling how many by now. . . . Oh look, here comes Harriet Bowersock. Bringing her eggs in for consignment.” Charlie looked at his wristwatch. “Yep, and right on time, too.”
    A mud-spattered black Ford pickup pulled to a stop in front of the store. They could hear the stretching of its emergency brake cable before Harriet got out. She was dressed in a blue denim jacket and jeans with a bright orange scarf pulled tight around her face.
    “Mornin’, Charlie, Jim. You fellas enjoyin’ the sun this mornin’ instead of workin’, I see.”
    “We’ve managed it well so far, Harriet,” Charlie called back to her, laughing. “How many cartons you got today?”
    “Eight. I got eight dozen eggs for you ‘n Lorna. Three of ‘em from the Carlsons.” Harriet walk to the truck’s tailgate, pushed back a tarp that covered her cargo box filled with egg cartons. She started to lift the box from the truck bed.
    Seeing what she was doing, Jim got up and after a few quick steps was beside her. “Here, Harriet, let me help you with that,” he said.
    “Thanks, Jim. ‘Preciate you,” Harriet said as Jim took the box from her and carried it toward the door. “My Rhode Island Reds have been right busy lately. Dozens and dozens of beautiful, brown eggs for you and Lorna to sell, Charlie. Best eggs you can eat, you know. Good for the blood.”
    “Well now, I’ll defer judgment on that to my friend Jim there,” Charlie replied, pointing in Jim’s direction. “He’s the one who’s the biologist, after all.”
    Jim grinned. “More difference in the hens that lay the eggs than in the eggs themselves, Harriet. Eggs are good for you though, no doubt about that, brown or white. But lots of folks do prefer the brown ones, you’re right about that as well.”
    “See there, Charlie, you old windbag! Your expert here agrees with me. And polite to carry my eggs, too, while you’re just sittin” there.”
    “Not sure that’s what I heard, Harriet, but either way we’ll be glad to sell your eggs. Let me get the door for you two.” Charlie opened the door. “And Lorna will give you the money for last week’s sales, Harriet. Got it ready for you last night.”
    With Harriet inside and sure to gab with Lorna for at least half an hour, Charlie and Jim sat down again on the bench.
    “Missed you yesterday, Jim. Thought for sure you’d be in.”
    “Yes, I would have, but had to hurry out to the Kesterson farm after our morning conference call with all the farmers in the Alliance. So that took me way out on Zion Ridge. Thought we had an infestation of potato beetles out that way. Late in the year for that. But since everyone in our Alliance shares equipment, we didn’t want to spread the problem. Have to be real careful about things like that when you share farm implements the way we do. Turned out not to be as bad as we thought, fortunately. Frost will probably get them soon anyway. But I do have to say, Charlie, you look a bit troubled today, you and Lorna both. What’s going on?”
    “That new store, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
    “Oh, I see. Well, I’m not surprised. In fact, I feared that’s what it might be yesterday when Cassie told me you’d called. Think it might be too much competition for you guys, is that it?”
    “Yep, it’s the final straw, I’m afraid, unless we can come up with a miracle solution. Despite there being more people in Locust Hill than ever was before, what with all the ones moving out here from Parkeston, our share of business keeps falling. Once people out here got cars, everything changed. Didn’t seem so far to drive into town anymore, so that took away some business way back before World War II. That was my granddad’s big challenge, you could say. In those horse and buggy days, farmers out here would only go into town once a month to stock up on supplies. Remember the seed store and hardware place you could enter right on that rickety old bridge as you went into town? Remember that?”
    “You mean the Juliana Street Bridge?”
    “Yep, that’s it. The city didn’t want so many horses on the downtown streets. Can’t imagine a bridge today with stores on it like that, can you?”
    “No, not at all. I do remember those stores, though, but just barely.”
    “Back then, even with a strong team of horses clip-clopping up ahead of you, you’d spend most of your time just to get to town, get your buying done, load up, and come home again with most of your field chores left undone that day. Maybe even barn chores undone, too, unless your kids did them. Folks couldn’t afford to stay away from their farms that long, not very often they couldn’t. That’s what gave my great grandpa Crandall the idea of building this store—to save folks time. And that worked out to everyone’s satisfaction for many a decade. But now, four generations later, with everybody having an automobile, they can be to Parkeston and back in no time at all and think nothing of it. Probably even prefer to do it if for no other reason than just to say they’ve been to town and had a chance to see what’s going on there.”
    “Well, I can’t remember as far back as you, Charlie,” Jim chuckled, “but I can see you must be right.”
    “Then maybe you won’t remember this part either, but we used to have gas pumps right here at the store. Right over there.” Charlie pointed to the spot where Harriet had parked. “Thought we’d at least sell customers some gas to go to town, if that’s what they wanted to do. But then the service station opened up across Shawnee Highway. Not only sold folks gas but changed their oil and tires and fanbelts and patched a radiator or two. More than we could do for them. That was my dad’s challenge.”
    “So your business has been shrinking by product line, not just by volume, for a long time, is that right?”
    “Oh my yes! Don’t even keep much in the storeroom anymore, not enough volume to justify it. And the Farmers’ Co-op! Jim, you’re might be president of it right now, but it’s been a burden for us, too. None of it your fault, of course. Not saying it is. Plus, the Co-op is a great thing for the farmers in the area, everybody knows that. But it still competes with us something fierce! Took away nearly all our sales of seed, feed, and fertilizer and later on, most of our work clothes sales as well. That was a big hit to us, Jim. Good margins in the clothes, in particular. We can’t compete with your discounts to the farm families. Just can’t do it. And now you’re expanding into hardware items, I hear. Lawnmower and tractor parts and the like.”
    “True enough, we are.”
    “And as if all that weren’t enough, now this convenience store comes along and it’ll likely take away our food sales—just about the last thing left to us other than Travis coming over once a week to buy up all of Lorna’s bonbons and our selling Harriet’s brown eggs! I guess that’s my challenge. But unlike my grandpa and Dad, I fear I’m going to fail at it.”
    “That’s about what I expected you to say, Charlie. Still, I’m sorry for the two of you to hear about it.”
    “Oh, some folks have remained loyal to the store, Jim, for sure they have, and probably will for a while longer. Just because it’s been here so long, I guess, or because we’re all still friends. Maybe a few’ll even stay with us despite our higher prices, but we can’t really expect them to do it forever. So I have to do something and do it pretty quick.”
    “Have you’ve seen a decline in sales already due to the convenience store?”
    “Sure have, better than thirty per cent since it opened. Yesterday, for example, we sold just $283 worth of goods and cleared just under $70 for our ourselves. Stretch that out over a year’s time and it gives a fellow an income of less than $9,000, while having to work six days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, to get even that pitiful little amount. Probably going to get a lot worse, too. Soon it won’t be worth turning the key in the lock.”
    “Ouch, that’s a steep drop in revenues and profit!”
    “And with both of us being just fifty-six, Lorna and I still have a ways to go to a reasonable safe retirement. If we cash in now, even if we were able to sell the store and all our goods for a fair market price, I’m guessing we’d still be out of money by the time we hit seventy. Plus, we don’t have medical coverage anymore. Had to give that up several years ago when the premiums got so high. So if one of us took real sick, Jim, we’d be in a world of hurt. Don’t know what we’d do then, I really don’t.”
    “How’s Lorna taking all this? I recall she’s had problems with her nerves in the past.”
    “Well, that’s the other thing that worries me. Fact is, it worries me the most. Last night she started hearing and seeing Colton again. Even said he talked directly to her. She hadn’t had an episode like that for a few years, now here it comes again. Really set us back with medical bills the first time. Can’t afford to have that happen again.”
    “That’s a shame, Charlie, it really is.”

 

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