I met Mr. Emerly in the hallway as I came down the stairs as he walked out of his office and we made our way to the veranda together. "Good morning, Miss Prentiss. I'm anxious for us to get started, so why don't we do a little brainstorming over lunch and see if we can come up with some sort of an outline to follow ...", he had pulled my chair out so that I could be seated. Already on the table were two generous platters laden with wild rice, marinated flank steak, and fresh steamed vegetables.
"Mr. Emerly," I began, "I've done a little bit of thinking about your offer to work with you on your memoirs, and frankly I have some serious mis givings." I noticed that his expression didn't change but his eyebrows knitted slightly, so I continued, "You told me that your career was based on some sort of academic endeavor and, quite frankly, I'm not entirely sure we could make it interesting enough to submit to a publisher, much less see it in print. Americans now seem to be enthralled with authors like Stephen King and Danielle Steele ... their books are full of excitement and adventure ... I imagined yours would be rather like a primer for an MBA ... not a very wide audience ..."
I stopped at his expression. Those blue eyes again were dancing, he had begun to nod, and chuckled softly, "Miss Prentiss, I assure you that the story we will be working on is not as dull as all that, and that if we do decide to submit it to a publisher, I'll virtually guarantee it will make it to the Times Best Seller's List. Indulge me for a few days. If the material you gather offers no promise then you are under no obligation to continue if I'm right, then we'll both benefit from our partnership ... what do you say?"
There was no ignoring his charm ... or the charm of Tanglewood. For whatever reasons, I nodded my head in agreement, "Well, alright. What kind of schedule would you like to work? I'm afraid I'm not the best morning person, but a 10:00 a.m. start would be comfortable to me."
He tilted his head, thought for a minute, then replied, "Sounds good. We'll start then and work until we feel like stopping. If it's an hour or eight hours a day, as long as we work while we are enjoying the process, I'm sure it will be productive. Now then, how shall we start?"
"We'll start this afternoon then, if you'd like. I can go up to my room now and get my tape recorder ..."
I was surprised to see him shake his head, "No. I would rather you listen, ask questions, make notes ... it's much more personal that way ... and I just don't like the idea of taping everything ... it seems so robotic, I think writing ought to be a spontaneous endeavor. Can you accommo date me on this little quirk?"
"You're the boss. We can do it however you'd like. So, why don't you start telling me about yourself."
As we lingered through lunch Mr. Emerly began, "Well, I told you the story of my initiation to love making through my father and Millie, so I won't go back over that," he glanced at me just in time to see the color rise in my face, "But, I'll begin there.
My father and Millie married in 1945 and I struggled through high school. I hung around that little town for a year ... I wasn't able to find anything there that interested me so I left home in 1950 and spent the next few years wandering about the country taking on odd jobs. I loaded trucks off a dock in St. Louis until winter set in and then I headed further south ... I hated the cold and damp. I hitchhiked to Florida where the post World War II construction boom was in full swing. Rows of neat little houses were springing up everywhere thanks to the new VA benefits and work was easy to find. The money was good and so was the weather, so I hung around for about three years.
I turned 22 in the spring and became involved with the foreman's daughter, Susan ... the age old tale. We were both young, frisky, tan, and fun-loving but that was the extent of the depth of our relationship. Her Daddy found us in a most carnally compromising situation and I was expected to make things right. He escorted us down town, making sure we picked up the marriage license. A quick ceremony in front of a J.P. was scheduled before I knew it. Susan's father wouldn't hardly let me out of his sight, so as we walked from the Clerk of the Court's office down the hall to the Justice of the Peace, I excused myself to go to the restroom.
One look at Susan's less than happy face told me what I had to do ... I ducked in the bathroom and immediately locked the door. Panic had set in and I felt like a mouse that had just been put in the cage with a very pretty snake ... my future was certain, but it certainly was not one that I wanted. I climbed through the window, jumped the few feet to the ground and didn't stop running for blocks. I only had the clothes on my back and a few dollars in my pockets, but I knew I had to get out of Tampa and Florida all together, so I hit the highways again with my thumb stuck out. I never got in touch with Susan again, but neither one of us was ready to settle down and I'm sure she as relieved as I was.
I caught rides, walked and hitchhiked some more until I found myself in Kansas City. The easiest place to get work around there was the stock- yards. It was awful, dirty, it stunk ... I didn't last there very long before wander lust took me on the road again. I ended up in Detroit working on an assembly line for a while until the monotony almost drove me crazy, so I started looking west. Just outside Flagstaff I met an old man at a truck stop, after sharing a couple of cups of coffee and a piece of pie, he asked me if I had ever worked with cattle ... I told a lie and said I had ... I justified knocking cows in the head with mallet 'working with cattle' ... so, he hired me to work for the season on his ranch. I bluffed my way through it and the next spring headed to California. San Diego reminded me very much of Florida and I was lucky enough to land a job with Lockheed working in their plant.
I settled in to a pretty comfortable routine and would have probably stayed there for a while except that I got a call, 'Your father has had a heart attack and we're afraid he's not going to make it' was all Millie could say. I threw a few things in a bag, called my boss, and boarded a plane for home.
When I walked in the hospital room I couldn't believe it was Dad lying there. It's funny how those white walls, white sheets and antiseptic smell can make a grown man look like a frail, half grown boy. He was sleeping when I arrived, so I quietly walked to the side of the bed. Millie and Sarah, my half-sister, were sitting on the other side of the bed ... neither one of them more than an arm's length from Dad. I half smiled at them. Millie was in her 30's now but was a beautiful as ever ... perhaps even more so now that she had matured. Sarah was twelve years old and held the promise of beauty inherited from her mother. She and I were virtually strangers since she was born shortly before I graduated from high school and left home.
Millie stood up, "William ... wake up darling ... Jackson is here." Dad's eyes fluttered and then opened, it seemed to take a while for them to focus, but once they had his face lit up. "Jackson ... son ... you're home. Thank God." His hand grasped mine, "I'm so glad to see you."
Without warning my throat strangled any words trying to escape and my eyes were blurred by tears. I fought to regain my composure and smiled down at him, "Hi, Dad. I was away a lot longer that I had counted on ... but, you didn't need to go fake a heart attack to get me to visit ... you could have just called." I tried to make light of the situation not knowing what else to do, but the pale transparency of his skin was witness to the seriousness of his health.
God bless him, he smiled back at me, "Yep ... I can get out of this bed now and get on back home in a couple of days." He was smiling as he looked over at Millie and his half-grown daughter, but the humor did not carry to his eyes. As families do, we all knew the truth but would not admit it to ourselves or each other.
"William, you rest now. I'm going to get Jackson settled in and we'll all be back right after supper.", Millie caressed his hair and bent down to kiss him, "We'll be back about 7:00 so you have time for a nice nap."
Dad nodded and closed his eyes. Sarah kissed his cheek then followed Millie out of the room. I stood there for a moment more, not knowing what to do. For an instant I was a little boy again and frightened beyond belief. I also wanted to kiss his forehead, but instead, just squeezed his hand and left the room.
