The Secrets on Chicory Lane: A Novel(11)

Dad turned to Mom. “He lives alone now, but did he ever remarry?”

“No. Barbara at the beauty shop dated him last year, and they went out for several months. I don’t know what happened. And, gosh, wasn’t he engaged a few years ago? You know, to that teacher at the high school.”

Dad furrowed his brow. “I remember … was it Linda Perkins?”

“That’s her. She was Linda Lewis then. Again, I’m not sure what happened. The wedding was called off. She ended up marrying Dr. Perkins.”

“Well, it sounds like he’s a confirmed bachelor now.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I interjected.

“Nothing,” Dad said.

“Never mind, Shelby, just eat your dinner,” Mom said.

Dad added, “I guess it takes some people longer to find the right person.”

“What church does he go to?” Mom asked.

“The Methodist? I know he goes every Sunday. I think he volunteers for a lot of their charity events.”

“What if I go in his house with my friends?” I asked.

“As long as there’s a group of you, I guess that’s all right,” Mom answered. “Just not alone, okay?”

“I won’t.”

Back in the sixties, it was considered strange if you were still single and already in your thirties or forties, even if you were divorced. This was a strong sentiment, especially in the Bible Belt. I suppose that was the case with closeted gay people. They lived their lives as “confirmed bachelors,” and whatever the term would be for the female equivalent—“old maid”? I don’t think my parents thought Mr. Alpine was gay; after all, he had been married and had apparently dated. He certainly didn’t come off as effeminate, although I suppose he was “theatrical”—that was the best word to describe him. He used words like “my dear” and “darling” when talking to us kids. And when he took our school pictures, he’d say to the next kid in line, “Step up there, handsome!” Click. “Have a seat, princess!” Click. “Give us a smile, cowboy!” Click. “Look right at the camera, miss movie star!” Click. He had an attitude that made us all laugh.

After that discussion, I didn’t visit Mr. Alpine as much as I had before school let out—I had gone at least a couple of times with Eddie, and several other times when there was a group of kids in tow. There would only be one other time when I found myself alone in Mr. Alpine’s house, but that occurred a little later—I’ll get to that episode shortly.

In those early days of summer, I would persuade Eddie to ride our bicycles to the library. The building was downtown, a good three miles or more. Whenever we rode our bikes, it felt like an adventure. Around the halfway mark, we would stop at Barney’s Drugs, which boasted an old-fashioned soda fountain and a variety of comic books that Eddie would buy. We would get an ice cream and a Coke, and it would start to feel like we were on a real date. The image of us sitting at the counter, sweaty and pigging out on the sweets, is very clear in my head.

I always loved the library. I’d spend hours there, not only looking at the books, but also studying the newspapers from the big cities. The New York Times was fascinating because there was so much to offer—Broadway theater, tons of movies I’d never heard of, and all the fashion inserts. My dream was to one day leave West Texas and go to a big city. I ended up in Chicago, so I guess I fulfilled that wish.

Mr. Alpine worked at the information desk, so Eddie and I would go over to say hello. As a man in his thirties, he was, to us, very much an adult. He was of medium height, a little chubby, and he wore glasses. His hair was short, with a greasy shine to it, some kind of hair gunk. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t remarried. He wasn’t “handsome” in the traditional sense, but in my opinion he wasn’t bad looking. He seemed to me at the time to be an attractive man, fun to be around, and very smart.

Mr. Alpine smiled and greeted us warmly. “Well, well, is it Hansel and Gretel, or Romeo and Juliet, or Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn?” I didn’t know who that last pair was, but the way he said it made us laugh. “I know,” he continued, “it’s Sir Lancelot and Guinevere. Those names suit you more. And what, pray tell, are you darlings up to this afternoon?”

“Just visiting the library,” Eddie answered. “Got any good books?”

Mr. Alpine laughed. “Nah. There are no good books here.” He turned to me and asked, “Shelby, my dear, I haven’t seen you lately. How’s that sweet baby brother of yours?”

“Michael’s fine. He cries a lot.”

“Ah, well, babies do that, don’t they? He was an angel when I took his picture.”

“He was being good that day, I guess.”

Mr. Alpine cocked his head and winked at me. “So why don’t you ever come visit me? I never see you! You’re breaking my heart!”

I didn’t care what my parents or anyone else thought; I thought he was funny and charming. “Maybe I will, with Eddie.”

“Great. I’m off work tomorrow. I’ll just be working on plans for the parade. Why don’t you both come by?”

There was something I was supposed to do the next day. Swimming lessons? Piano lessons? I didn’t remember exactly, so I made up an excuse.