Love Letters From the Grave(11)
Somehow, this had made her a little irresistible to the boys at school. Maybe it was simply because she wasn’t interested in settling down, while most of her female friends had set their hats at someone and their hearts on marriage at an early age. Either that, or it was her unexpected prowess with a baseball. Academically, Molly was an average student, but she was quite above average in extra-curricular activities. She never missed a ball game or any other school function, and from being drafted onto the boys’ teams from the moment they’d seen her bat, she was very popular, even if she was a little shy. By graduation she had grown into a very attractive young woman - tall and slender, and with an easy, infectious smile.
She knew she was lucky, too. Although she graduated from high school during the depths of the Great Depression, she - along with her family, friends and nearly everyone else in the area - did not suffer like many other people around the country, particularly compared to those who lived in urban areas. While people who lived in urban areas suffered from very high unemployment rates, hunger, food shortages, and other deprivations, those in rural small town America did not. Even students who wanted to work during the summers and part-time during the school year found it rather easy to get jobs.
And, of course, there was plenty to eat. Nearly all the local families had home gardens, and many also raised chickens, rabbits and other animals for home consumption. Furthermore, small towns were surrounded by farms, large, commercial gardens, and an abundance of farmers’ markets.
Molly, her family, and all the people she knew had adequate incomes to meet their needs, even after the Wall Street Crash. Furthermore, immediately after she graduated she was able to get a job, albeit low-paying, working as a sales clerk in a grocery store in town. She’d continued to live at home, and was close enough to the store that she could walk to and from work, although she often was given a ride, by some kind young man wanting to find out if she was available the following weekend.
Sometimes she was.
Often she was already booked up.
‘I’m so sorry, my dance card is full that whole weekend,’ she would declare sweetly, and the boy would roll his eyes and obtain a commitment from her quickly for the next time the traveling carnival was in town.
It was Molly’s turn to close up the store on the day her frivolous and fun approach to life ended. She’d carefully tallied the cash, stored it in the safe out the back away from potential robbers (although nothing so exciting ever happened in their town, she reflected occasionally), and cleared the snow from the path to make it easier to access the building in the morning - especially if it snowed again overnight.
As she turned the key in the door and rattled it to make sure it was properly closed, she heard her name being called from across the street.
It was Fred, one of the boys she was courting with from time to time. ‘I’ve come to take you home, Molly,’ he called through cupped hands.
‘Fred! You know I’m not available until Wednesday after the church supper.’
Fred shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Molly, but this is something different. The sheriff just called for my father, and they told me I should get you home as quickly as possible.’
‘The … your father?’
What was going on? Fred’s father was the town’s doctor, and her own father often called him if there was an injury to deal with or a death to notarize. ‘Has something happened at the jail?’
She was beside the car; Fred scurried around from his side and ushered her into the passenger seat, as chivalrous as ever. ‘It’s not the jail, Molls, it’s your mother.’
Molly felt her heart being squeezed from within. ‘But she’s recovered, hasn’t she?’
‘I’m sorry, Molly. My dad thinks it’s pneumonia,’ said Fred. ‘Very serious. He’s sending her back to the hospital.’
During the exceptionally cold and snowy winter, her mother had come down with influenza. Molly’s father, ever cautious, had taken her to the hospital, but after a few days she’d recovered enough to be sent home, joking that all she’d needed was the vacation.
Now, just days later, it appeared she’d had a relapse.
‘Get me home as quickly as you can, Fred, please,’ said Molly. ‘I need to see her.’
‘I’ll do what I can.’ Fred glanced nervously at the whitening sky. ‘But I think there’s a new blizzard coming in fast.’
He was right. By the time they’d driven past the school and the baseball field, the fields were indiscernible, blanketed by snow. The silver pale sky blended into the horizon so that all around them there was only a chill white fog, stretching as far as they could see.
Fred’s anxiety was increasing. ‘If I get you to your place, I’ll never get home again.’
They were crawling along at about two miles an hour.
‘We’ll never even get close at this rate.’ Molly scraped ineffectually at the inside of the windshield. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she whispered, feeling helpless for the first time in her life.
Fred shook his head again. ‘Me neither. But I don’t think it’ll help anyone to have you in the hospital, too. Let’s sit it out and see how the roads are when the storm has passed.’
‘No! Fred, you’re a genius.’ Molly kissed his cold cheek quickly. ‘If Mom was going to the hospital when you were sent to fetch me, she should have been there before the snowstorm began. Let’s drive there instead.’