Love Letters From the Grave(5)
‘I don’t want you to burn yourself out, though, especially while school is in session. You’ll need transport to get to and from home, school and church as fast as possible.’
‘I have Betsy.’
For nearly a year, Charlie had been using the old saddle horse to get around, but this had the drawback of needing to have a place to keep the horse, as comfortably as possible, while at the school and church, and it also took time to unsaddle and saddle the horse at the terminus. He wasn’t about to complain to his parents, however. Whatever it took to keep his folks lined up with the notion of additional studies, he would suffer it.
‘Oh! Well, if Betsy’s working out okay, I’ll send the car back,’ said his father casually, taking the wrench from Charlie and turning his back to put it into the toolbox.
Charlie’s heart quickened. ‘Car? What car?’
Charles Senior allowed himself a small smile that Charlie couldn’t miss, before pointing out through the double doors. ‘That Essex roadster out there.’
Charlie raced outside. The sleek, cream-colored car was parked outside, engine idling. It was a wonder he hadn’t heard it. The Essex was very similar to the one which his oldest brother, William, had purchased a few months earlier. Charlie could hardly believe he was being given something that his own much-revered big brother had had to buy for himself.
‘My own car?’ he whispered.
‘Unless you don’t want it,’ replied his father.
He needed no further encouragement. With a whoop of joy, Charlie dived behind the wheel and roared along the farm tracks, taking very great care not to run over so much as a bug as he opened the engine and headed for the open road. Life just got sweeter with every mile, and Charlie could almost feel the future unfolding before him like the tracks beneath the roadster’s wheels – effortless, top-speed, free as a bird that had just unfurled its wings. The world was his oyster. No, the pearl in the oyster. And Charlie was ready to find that treasure. His fortune. His life.
Later that week as he was leaving the schoolhouse, Charlie found Wendell standing at the foot of the steps waiting for him. He hadn’t spoken to Wendell at any length for quite some time; in fact, he had barely talked to him at all since his parents kicked him out of their home.
At closer quarters, Charlie could see that there was something different about Wendell – a kind of confidence that he hadn’t had before. Perhaps it was a result of being older. Wendell was eighteen already, a young man rather than a boy reaching for adulthood. Furthermore, Wendell was very well-dressed, and appeared to be successful in whatever he was doing to earn a living.
‘Charlie boy!’ he called in an unusually enthusiastic manner.
Yep, definitely different.
‘You didn’t come around for a drive the other night.’
‘Oh, sorry, Wendell. I forgot. Went clean out of my head when I got my new car.’
Wendell nodded knowingly. ‘You got that cream-colored Essex roadster, right?’
Without waiting for Charlie to reply, the older lad seized Charlie by the shoulders and spun him around. ‘Nice little ride, the Essex. But I’ve got me a real car.’
It was parked across the street: a huge, brand new, shiny black Packard. It truly was an impressive vehicle, and made Charlie a little weak at the knees in a way that not even his own roadster had accomplished.
‘Want to take a ride with me?’
‘Are you kidding? Yes!’
Charlie could barely keep still in the passenger seat, so enraptured was he with the power and beauty of the Packard. They thrummed their way through the streets, turning heads as they went, until they hit the quieter roads that reached their pale fingers out into the lush, green countryside.
A little way out of town, Wendell cruised to a halt.
‘Would you like to drive?’
Charlie, who’d already had the experience of driving his father's large, late model, four-door Ford Sedan a few times, agreed in moments, scrambling across to the driver’s seat and expertly adjusting it to give himself the best driving position. After a few minutes of driving, Wendell suggested that they take a road which was seldom travelled, and open her up. Charlie was amazed and thrilled with the power, speed and handling of the car. He had never driven so fast!
It was over too soon, but before it became too dark for Charlie to do his chores he had to drive back to the drug store. He and Wendell chatted briefly over a chocolate malt, before agreeing to meet again at the same place the following Sunday. As Charlie drove his beloved Essex roadster home, he couldn’t help feeling disloyal, as if he’d cheated on her with a fancier model.
The week passed unremarkably and incredibly slowly, with the prospect of driving the Packard again dangling temptingly before Charlie. He arrived at the drugstore as soon as he could after church and supper, only to find that Wendell was already there. He had with him an older man, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. They were standing on the sidewalk in front of the drugstore next to not one, but two identical Black Packards which were parked along the curb.
Charlie forced himself not to stare at the cars, but to concentrate instead on greeting the older man.
‘This is my boss, Mr Hepworth,’ said Wendell. Hepworth took Charlie’s hand and nodded curtly. ‘Mr Hepworth has a job that you might be interested in doing.’
Over malts in the drug store, Charlie explained that he was too busy to take on another job, trying not to notice that Mr Hepworth was staring at him the whole time. ‘I have chores all around the farm, and scriptures with Father Patton, and that’s besides the extra studies I’ve just taken on.’