Going Home 4

Edited by "Crazysoundguy'

*

As soon as he had pulled off the Interstate he had checked his map; he had laughed. When he was a kid it had been almost one hundred miles from the turnpike---a toll road---to the obscure little town with the funny name; it was tucked away in a small valley in an unremarkable sub-branch of the eastern mountain range which had once baffled the early settlers. The Interstate had finally gone through; one of the last sections completed in the country. It was still over fifty miles from four lane limited access highway; it would be exclusively two lane except for the occasional mountain passing lane along the steeper parts of the route.

It was late spring. This far North and this far up it was still cool; frost in June was an all too common occurrence as he recalled. Nothing really looked remotely familiar; it had been twenty years almost to the day. He considered the myriad reasons he had never returned to the tiny village in which he had attended both junior and senior high school. Life had gotten in the way. First there was college in another corner of the country followed by an unexpected stint in the Army and two overseas deployments to a combat zone. Then there was the corporate adventure which still occupied much of his life.

His parents left the area soon after he graduated; both had since passed on. His few close friends from high school had moved on as part of the largest exodus of a graduating class in the town's history. After many years of business closings, industry was slowly coming to the area. A surprising number of people were drifting back. Quality of life was very good; people tended to die well into their eighties and beyond from natural causes. Crime was almost nonexistent. There was a sense of community; people were neighborly. Charity began at home. Values...work ethic...honesty...friendship. The only real downside was freezing cold, snowy and absurdly long winters.

Had it not been from the advent of the Internet and email he might never have reconnected. He had found the small town newspaper in an online edition. Someone had put together a high school email list by graduating class. He had begun to exchange regular emails with several former classmates. He'd missed every other class reunion; there was always something that got in the way. Even attendance at this one came with a work related rationalization. He was sure he was destined to be simply a short term visitor to his old haunts. He reflected back to the conversation he and his boss had had a couple of weeks earlier.

"Walt, you're at the top of the list for Senior Vice President and your own operation. The signs are clear that you can pick and chose where you want to go. Unless you get some burning urge to go to corporate and someone decides that you belong in one of the top three seats in the company, this could well be your final relocation. There are at least two prime locations coming open during the next three months. There is also one less than prime location that the old man has asked me to run by you---no harm and no foul if you say 'no damn way'! It's a brand new facility---state of the art and destined to be one of our most sophisticated plants anywhere. It's also in the middle of Podunk, 100 miles from nowhere and it gets damn cold up there. Virtually all of the work force will be hired locally to include front line and even middle management. Let me show you where it is on the map---if I can even find it."

"A little to your left, Don and up---right there!"

"How did you know?"

"Well, everyone has heard it about it; labor surplus market, astonishingly well-skilled, motivated and educated potential work force, a climate that will actually save us millions in utility costs in view of our unique manufacturing requirements, good schools, low crime, no unions---and since what we will make there is almost exclusively small piece JIT, the lack of easy Interstate access is a moot point. Virtually everything ships next or second day by air and either FedEx or UPS is going to put in an air park right next to the plant. I also grew up within thirty miles of there."

"Are you saying you might have some interest in it? If you do---don't tell the big guys. Make 'em sell you on it! They're more than prepared to put a substantial spiff in the comp package to get a top manager up there."

"Don, I haven't been back there in twenty years. I have absolutely no attachments to that part of the country---nor do I have anything but pleasant memories from growing up in that neck of the woods. My sense is that I've grown too accustomed to my urbane existence and would find it stifling. On the other had, I've been trying to decide whether to go to my twentieth high school reunion; it would be the first one I've ever attended. It's only a couple of weeks away. I think I might just go up and see what's changed and what's remained the same over the last twenty years."

"Well it's a hike from here, what, close to fifteen hundred miles? Look you and I are friends and as much as I'm trying to tell you that you can pick and choose, I would look like a hero if you decided to take it. Don't take any vacation days; if you are serious about checking out the area then in my mind it's a legitimate business trip. You weren't planning to drive, were you?"

"Not a chance and that's a long trip for me to take my plane; it's got to be five hours over some desolate terrain. I'll fly commercial into the closest airport and drive the last fifty miles or so in a rental. Even at that you can't fly direct; I'll have to change planes twice."

As Walt recalled that fateful conversation with his boss it occurred to him that he had not addressed the other reason he had never returned to the bucolic locale with the confusing array of Native American town names. He thought briefly about other names; the amusing assortment of surnames of the kids he grew up with. While protestant Irish were the predominant denizens there were also many with last names that were virtually unpronounceable; the mountain region had also been a welcome haven for a previous generation of assorted Eastern European immigrants of Polish, Czech, Hungarian, Latvian and Estonian origin. The one name he had in mind was distinctly Irish: Mary Katherine Sullivan. Never a Mary, always a Katherine or more commonly just Kathy or Kath.

He had first seen her in seventh grade sitting to his right and across the aisle in Mrs. Sanders' English class. She had blue eyes, blond hair and braces; he had fallen in love with her that first day of junior high. She hardly knew he existed until they became friends much later in high school. They might not even have become friends had she not been struggling in Algebra. Having gotten to know him during their junior play she begged him to tutor her. They had become work-out and running buddies; they had done a science project together. Until the week of high school graduation while playing spin the bottle at a friend's graduation party they had never even kissed. They were as different as two classmates could have possibly been.

Walt, known as Walter in those days was a late bloomer but also a year younger than almost everyone in his class; he had skipped a grade way back in elementary school. He and Kath were the same age in years although technically she was a few months older. He was smaller than most of his classmates; he had a long bout with facial blemishes. His parents were of modest means so he seldom wore the latest fashions. He was far from the pinnacle of the high school social epicenter. He was decidedly geeky until his junior year. He'd had a growth spurt that summer. His complexion had improved. He'd gone out for several sports in spite of a lack of real athletic prowess and gained respect from the resident jocks for his hard work and fearlessness. The most athletic kid in his class had befriended him and had lent him a set of weights and a book on weight lifting to use over the summer. In return Walt had helped his new friend with his studies. Twenty years later Walt and that former jock, now an accountant with a graduate degree were still very good friends; they had stayed in touch. Andy had returned to the area a few years earlier and he and Walt exchanged emails often.

In his junior year Walt became a more interesting classmate. He tried out for the junior play and won the leading role; it did wonders for his confidence. He became less socially awkward. One of the starters and stars of the football team had asked the coach to let Walt play in his place on enough plays each quarter to be awarded his varsity letter. His father had acquired a new job and their financial position had improved. There was a little more at the end of the month for Walter. Girls began to view him differently; he dated a number of the 'A' list sophomores but never really went steady. As the summer prior to his senior year approached, Walt and Katherine spent more and more time together. They were in extracurricular activities together. That Spring, he helped her prepare to retake the SATs; she had not done that well the first time as a junior. They ran together and lifted together. First semester of their senior year he got her through Algebra II with a B. They won a blue ribbon for their joint science project. Walt had even dated her younger sister several times but that never really went anywhere.

He knew everything there was to know about her and she knew him as well as any one in the world. He had even saved her life and gotten closer to that special place at the top of her long tanned legs than he had ever expected to as he sucked the snake venom from the cruel double puncture made even more grotesque by the two short incisions he had made over the fang marks. The pit viper had struck several inches above her knee on her inner thigh. They had been hiking together as they had done every week for most of the summer. Applying a bandage and a loose tourniquet he had carried her over a mile back to her car and raced her to the hospital forty-five minutes away. The doctor commended him for his quick and appropriate first aid indicating that she would have surely died without his efforts. She had hugged him when she was released from the hospital.

Unfortunately for young Walter he and the young woman who unknowingly had owned his heart since the seventh grade were destined to be just friends, albeit very good ones. As Walter recalled Katherine had dated three boys during her high school stint. All three were captains of the football team, all three were at the center of the best social group and all three came from families who were reasonably prominent. One family owned a meat packing operation, another owned several markets and the third was the son of the local bank president. Katherine was the most beautiful girl in the class; she was the head cheerleader. Her parents had "plans" for their oldest daughter and those plans included economic security; Walter didn't appear to measure up in that regard. From Walter's perspective he just felt particularly privileged to be her special, best male friend. He always knew he wasn't in her league as a potential boyfriend or dating companion. He was not willing to risk the friendship and closeness he had with her by pressing the issue.

The two had shared that one, spin-the-bottle kiss at that graduation party and several of the other kids had joked that it must be like, "kissing your sister" for both of them and they had both laughed along with the joke. In fact it was that kiss and the absolute conviction that he and Katherine would never be more than friends that made him leave for college immediately following graduation. It was that kiss that probably doomed his short and ill fated marriage to a young woman who physically resembled Katherine back during his military years. Katherine too went off to college at the end of the summer. A few years later he had heard that she had married one of the former quarterbacks and returned to the area to live.

She married Dennis; he was certainly the cream of the crop of the three football stars she had dated. His family had a successful small chain of stores. He was handsome, talented and beloved. He was one of those kids that you know just has the "right stuff" the first time you meet him in the seventh grade. To make it even more irritating everyone liked him and he was genuinely one of the nicest and most caring kids Walter could ever remember having known. Even when Walter had been in his prolonged geek stage, Dennis treated him as a friend and deserved no small amount of credit for helping Walter evolve socially. Dennis came back from college and became a school teacher, eschewing the family business. He became a great school teacher, one of the true giants of the classroom; he appeared to love teaching and to have been born to teach. He and Katherine were married shortly after completing college in what must have been the social event of the decade in that little corner of small town America. They had their first child, a boy, less than a year later. The first blessed event was quickly followed by a second child, a girl, a couple of years after.

Twelve years after graduating from high school, married to the most beautiful girl for miles around, blessed with two gorgeous, healthy children ages four and six, seemingly doing a job he loved and preparing to celebrate his thirtieth birthday with a gala event planned, he left in his car ostensibly to pick up something for the party. He drove across the river to a truck pull off on the outskirts of town and blew his brains out with a gun no one even knew he had.

He left no note and had not shown any signs of depression. Katherine was devastated; there had been no problems in their marriage that she could discern. They both taught school, made decent livings, had no significant bills and their house had been a wedding present; there were no money issues. The entire community was shaken to its very core. It would be an horrific event occasionally discussed for decades and no one ever figured out why it had happened. Had it not been for close loving family---on both sides---and the amazing closeness of the community, Katherine might well have perished herself. She was very glad she had been blessed with the support structure which helped her survive. She had aged dramatically in the year following Dennis' death; she had let herself go. She had rediscovered her relative youth only in the last couple of years. Now almost eight years later she was seriously contemplating taking her fourteen year old boy and twelve year old girl and moving as far away from her home town of thirty-seven years as was humanly possible.

She was tired of being "the widow" and doubted that she would ever be anything else in this shrinking town of fewer than six hundred people. She had barely dated in eight years; it was as if the beloved memory of her husband Dennis made her, "off limits". She wanted for few material things; Dennis's family had been very generous. They had always loved her and treated her like their own daughter. Dennis had had a respectable insurance policy. She had continued to teach. Having grown closer to her mother in law than her own mother she had broached the subject only a few weeks earlier with her. To her surprise, Dennis' mother had agreed with her completely.

"Baby, we'll miss you terribly but you deserve a life and if there is anything we can do to help just say the word."

The school year was over; after the reunion she would pack her bags and move. She had already tentatively accepted a teaching position thousands of miles away.

Walt was a couple of days early as far as the reunion was concerned. He took a brief side trip to check out the plant location. It would be ready to open in a few months. After getting the obligatory site tour from the construction manager he headed down another two lane road. The plant location was thirty miles from his old high school but only about fifteen miles from the small farm he had grown up on. His parents had initially leased and finally sold the land to a more prosperous neighbor. A house fire had destroyed the main house soon after he had gone off to college. His folks had left the area following the fire. As he turned off the hard road and on to a county gravel road in search of the township dirt road which lead to his former home he pulled his rental to the side to allow a late model John Deere of some size to pass. Just as the two vehicles were abreast, recognition hit and Walt rolled down the window.

"Al! Al Bennett!" He shouted. The driver of the tractor stopped, turned and broke out in a grin.

"Walter! Why you are a sight for sore eyes." The man of roughly Walter's age in faded overalls said as he climbed down from his high perch and strode toward him.

"The two men embraced. "You finally decided to come back for a reunion---about damn time!"

"I wondered if you'd mind if I took a look at the old farm."

"Hell no! I'll even go up there with you. Turn around and follow me back up the road a mile and we'll park your car and grab the jeep and run over there together."

The two men reunited and drove the few minutes to the place Walter had once called home, bringing each other up to date as they rode together.

"We never rebuilt the house, just filled it in; the barn is always full of hay and we moved a couple of the out buildings. That creek flat land still produces the best corn crop in the county. We use the lower hill side for hay and pasture but the upper hill side is just too steep. My brother damned near rolled over up their one afternoon trying to plant a crop and as pasture it's just awful; if the damn cows don't fall down and get hurt they get tired out playing mountain goat and their milk production falls off."

"So what are you going to do with it, Al?" Walt asked admiring the view for miles from the upper hill side.

"Are you thinking of moving back and building on it? It would be a great home site. It's just got zero agricultural potential."

"Hell, Al, work up some figures; I don't know if I'm moving back here but I'm pretty sure I at least am going to be a more regular visitor. I was born in sight of here; I grew up here. I wouldn't mind having a place to come to every now and again."

"Well, it's not worth much and we'll never cut the woods behind it; it's too good for deer hunting. There's roughly twenty acres---do you want it all?"

"That depends on how hard a bargain you want to drive."

"Do you know what your dad paid for the whole farm including the prime bottom land? Fifty dollars and acre back in the early fifties. In the middle sixties we bought it for two hundred an acre without a house on it---and all we ever wanted was that 100 acres of flat fertile land at the base of the hill. This hill side has no value from a farmer's perspective. Look. I'll check with county and see what they say but I'm sure as hell not going to try to profit off the kid I sat next to damned near every day for ten years on old Arnie's school bus. The county agent has priced out damned near every acre in the county; whatever they say it's worth---you got it. 'You got plans for supper? Sharon would love to see you."

They got back to Al's farm house in short order. Sharon had put on a pound or two but was the same freckle faced sweet beauty she had been when Al had taken her out of circulation---in the fourth grade---in spite of having given birth four times. The subject of Dennis' suicide came up as it always did in these situations. The subject of Katherine came up; Walt had not remembered that Katherine and Sharon were cousins.

"She's back on her feet, Walter, I know she'd love to see you. You guys were kind of strange platonic friends as I recall. Hell, she spent more time with you in her senior year than she did with... Looking back I always wondered why you and she didn't..."