Cole Dust Cole Page 11

  “Well look who’s here!” Miss Betty called from the counter.

  “Good evening Miss Betty.” Cole waved.

  “Pete looky here, Cole’s brought a lady friend!” Miss Betty called to the kitchen.

  Out of the pass-through, Big Pete’s large head appeared under the heat lamps. His massive shoulders and gigantic head made Cole think of a mounted buffalo head on some sporting goods store wall, and he laughed and gave Pete a friendly smile.

  “Howdy Cole!”

  “Hi Pete!” Cole returned. As he looked around he realized everybody in the place was looking at Kelly. She was uncharacteristically still, just standing and smiling with her eyebrows raised and her head tilted slightly to the left.

  Betty rose to her feet with a rolling, swaying, motion. She rounded the counter and made her way to where Cole and Kelly stood. Betty extended her catcher’s mitt of a hand to Kelly.

  “I’m Betty, welcome to Orvin, Mrs. Sage.”

  “Thanks Betty. But actually, it is Mrs. Mitchell, or used to be. I’m Kelly.”

  “Where are you putting us?” Cole injected, cutting off Betty’ next question.

  “Right over here.” Betty waved her ham-sized arm toward a table against the window. “Best seat in the house.”

  Betty bumped and excused herself past one table after another, Cole and Kelly in her wake. Once at the table, Cole offered Kelly the seat facing the door and sat down. Kelly dropped her purse onto the chair next to the window and took a seat.

  “What’s your pleasure pretty miss? Ice tea, Dr. Pepper, Coke Cola or Diet like this rascal here?”

  “Diet Coke would be great.” Kelly smiled.

  “Well don’t just sit there! Show the lady what to do. I’ll meet ya back here with the drinks.” Betty slapped Cole on the back and made her way back toward the kitchen.

  “Cole,” Kelly whispered, “What do you suppose she weighs?”

  Cole grinned and put his hand to his chin in an over-dramatic gesture of contemplation. “Five hundred, maybe five-fifty naked and dripping wet. Not a pound over.”

  “Thanks. That’s not the image I want in my mind on the way to a buffet table.”

  “You’re welcome little lady.” Cole stood and reached for Kelly’s hand.

  The plates were hot and damp in the racks at the front of the counter. Large exhaust fans whirred softly above the steam tables drawing both the heat and moisture from the room. Several people stood scooping up salad and side dishes.

  “So what’s good?”

  “You’ll love the potato salad, the brisket is the thing, but you have to try the fried okra, house specialty.”

  “Okra? The green stuff with the little “meat BBs” in Campbell’s Soup? That okra?” Kelly asked as if Cole was setting her up for some practical joke.

  “Gotta try it.”

  “Catfish tonight!” Big Pete said from behind them.

  “Kelly, this is Big Pete, owner of this fine establishment.”

  “Chief cook and bottle washer, nice to meet you.” The big man touched the front of his paper cap with two fingers. “Cole never mentioned he was married.”

  “He didn’t?” Kelly said, pulling back from Cole and frowning.

  “No ma’am, and if I were him I’d be shouting it from the roof tops, pretty little thing like you!”

  “That’s very kind Pete. But we’re not married, so you can forgive him.”

  Pete stood with his mouth open and his face turning red.

  “So, where’s this catfish, Pete?” Kelly said, looking down the line.

  “We’ll bring it right out. What about you Cole? Brisket and bread?”

  “Yes sir!”

  Big Pete spun about and double-timed his way back to the kitchen.

  “They’ve got you all ‘married up’, Mr. Sage.”

  “There is nothing I can say or do that you are not going to spin into an even bigger web of hilarity and witty asides so I am just going to hush,” Cole said, a broad grin on his face.

  At the table sat a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a tall milk glass vase. They’d hardly set their buffet plates on the table when Big Pete and Betty appeared with plates piled high with golden fried fish and steaming barbequed brisket.

  “For the lady and for you sir, with sauce on the side.” Pete placed the large platter of fish before Kelly.

  “This is beautiful!” she said in genuine delight.

  “Let me move this,” Cole said, rearranging his plate and drink, making room for the platter of beef.

  “First one done’s a glutton!” giggled Miss Betty. “Enjoy.”

  “Wow, this is amazing.”

  “Do you have any idea the strength of character it took for that woman to go back to her perch at the counter?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She is absolutely dying to give you the third degree.” Cole took a bite of brisket and put it in his mouth.

  “Don’t be silly. She’s just friendly.”

  “Right,” Cole said, with a knowing nod of his head.

  They both ate until there wasn’t room for another bite. Kelly abandoned her salad and put a large dent in the platter of catfish. Cole made several brisket sandwiches with the pile of white bread that came with the meat. They laughed and exchanged quips at Kelly’s introduction to deep fried okra.

  “Can I join you two?” Miss Betty said, sliding a chair up to the end of the table.

  “Now Cole, I am ashamed of you for not telling us about your lovely lady.”

  “Miss Betty, words would have failed to describe the loveliness of the rose now present,” Cole replied in an almost passable W.C. Fields impersonation.

  “Id’nt he sweet. Now tell all. Where’d you meet, how long you been together, all the juicy stuff,” Miss Betty coaxed Kelly.

  “Well,” Kelly paused not exactly sure what she wanted to tell, “Cole’s granddaughter is mine too.” She stopped, wanting to savor the befuddled look on the big woman’s face.

  “Come again?” Miss Betty said, frowning in thought.

  “Kelly’s son is married to my daughter.”

  “You’re both de-voreced?” Miss Betty said with a disappointed sigh.

  “Widowed.” Kelly smiled gently at Cole.

  “I am so sorry.” Miss Betty hesitated, thought carefully about her next question, then changed the subject. “How long have you been seein’ each other?”

  “Oh, about eight months I guess. How long have you and Pete been married?” Kelly replied.

  “Thirty eight years, seven months, nine days and,” Miss Betty looked at her wristwatch, “twenty-three hours, of matrimonial bliss.” The big woman’s belly shook the table as she laughed and turned and blew a kiss toward Pete. “Poor guy never saw it comin’ neither.” She laughed again.

  There was a pause in the conversation. Cole looked at Kelly and tried to imagine what she was thinking. Kelly smiled, knowing exactly what Cole was thinking.

  “So where will you be staying while you’re here Kelly?” Betty’s tone changed to a motherly inquisition.

  “At the house.”

  “It’s really none of my business, but folks around here are kind of old fashioned and ‘livin’ in sin’ is only overlooked on Days of Our Lives, if you get my meaning.”

  “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. I’m an old fashioned girl, and there will be no free slices until somebody buys the loaf, if you get my meaning,” Kelly said, patting Miss Betty’s pudgy hand making her wedding ring click on the table top. “At least not without one of those.”

  Cole felt his face color up. He took a long drink from his soda and looked out the window.

  “Look at him!” Miss Betty laughed. “He’s sweatin’ like a Jew on Easter. Relax darlin’. I expect you’ll be free a little bit longer.” The clang of the kitchen bell interrupted her next question, and with it the big woman stood and made her way back to the counter.

  “Third degree is right.” Kelly giggled.

  “
It’s good to know there’ll be no “shackin’ up” in these here parts,” Cole said softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect it to take that kind of a turn. I hope...”

  “Don’t be silly. A little spicy rumor of impropriety is good for a girl’s ego once in a while. She was just looking out for your virtue.”

  “Pecan or cherry?” Big Pete called from the counter.

  “Dessert?” Cole asked.

  “Are you kidding?” Kelly said puffing out her cheeks.

  “How ‘bout we take a slice of each with us?”

  “Comin’ right up.”

  “Shall we?” Cole stood and pushed his chair in.

  The drive back to the house was quiet. The radio softly played country tunes foreign to them both. Cole turned on the headlights and watched as the dusky sky came alive with insects. Kelly leaned back against the headrest and softly hummed along with the radio. The pleasure of not feeling forced to talk was what made time with Kelly so appealing to Cole. There was never an awkward silence; silence communicated peace, and peace was what they both cherished. The connection they found in each other was strengthened by this ability, to savor the times of quiet as much as the stimulation of their rapid-fire free flight conversations. Cole pondered the strange, almost surreal realization that the woman next to him, who he knew from a floating house in San Francisco Bay, was rolling along beside him on a deserted country road twenty-five hundred miles away in Oklahoma. He smiled and gave an almost undetectable nod of his head.

  The house was dark when they arrived. Cole unlocked the front door and fumbled for the light switch. The entry was warm and welcoming, the hours of cleaning and polishing beginning to pay off. The dark wood of the floor and banister almost gleamed. A long arch of light invaded the living room, nearly reaching the far wall.

  “Coffee?” Cole asked.

  “Yes, but no pie.” Kelly smiled.

  As Cole prepared the coffee Kelly stood looking out the back window at the last violet hews of twilight. She began to hum softly. The tune was familiar to Cole but he couldn’t place it. He reached back in his memory for the tune, a soft lilting waltz, and he began to hum along.

  Kelly turned when she heard him and shifted to a series of soft la, la, la’s; then she sang.

  “It was fascination I know,

  And it might have ended,

  Right then at the start.

  Just a passing glance,

  Just a brief romance...”

  Her voice was strong and a bit lower than Cole would have thought.

  She turned and held one hand across her waist, the other lifted in the air holding the hand of an imaginary partner. “May I have this dance sir?”

  Cole reached out and took her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. They waltzed and hummed and softly sang. Missing the lyrics in spots as the coffee gurgled and steamed. It had been a long time since they embraced. They leaned together, gliding across the linoleum, cheek to cheek. Cole thought how glad he was that the music wasn’t recorded. For once, it wouldn’t end before they were ready.

  The eruptive sounds of the last few drops of water dripping through the coffee maker signaled the coffee was ready and injected a tempo breaking rhythm into the kitchen.

  Kelly slipped gently away from his embrace and gave Cole a deep curtsy. “Time to read?”

  “Sure.” Cole turned and took two mugs from the cupboard.

  Kelly opened the kitchen window and glided with waltz steps and a twirl into the living room and opened the windows. As Cole entered the room with two large cups, Kelly crossed to the bookcase.

  “So, where do we start?”

  “Depends. You can go back to the beginning, or we can read consecutive volumes, or we could read aloud. What’s your pleasure?” Cole handed her a mug.

  “Where did you leave off?”

  “1916, sophomore year. Pretty sketchy. A lot of homework notes, doodling, he seems to have lost focus. The running theme is his disenchantment with school. There is a touching passage about missing Effie as his teacher, I wonder if he ever let her know?” Cole said, almost as an aside. “What if we each took a notebook from ‘16 and ‘17 and scanned for anything interesting? How’s that sound?”

  “Alright, where’s your marker?”

  “There,” Cole pointed, “I put a cup on the shelf standing between the books.”

  Kelly took two notebooks off the shelf and moved to the couch. She kicked off her shoes and curled her feet up under her. She patted the cushion and gave Cole a big smile.

  The two read in silence for nearly an hour, sipping coffee, turning pages and scanning the notebooks. It was a long day and Kelly’s eyes began to grow heavy. When she finally set her mug on the floor she leaned back and slipped her feet behind Cole’s back. Within a couple of minutes Cole heard the soft sound of Kelly’s breath slipping into sleep. When he looked, the notebook had fallen across her chest and her eyes were closed.

  Cole finished his second notebook. He was disappointed; for the first time the book contained nothing of particular interest. Reflecting on what he read, he decided that he had no right to be disappointed. He wasn’t reading a novel. The plot didn’t bogged down; the young author was simply maturing, changing, life was going on. Perhaps his childhood hobby no longer held the magic it did when he began. Life ebbed and flowed. Cole’s own memories were long spans of nothing. He didn’t kept a journal but, as he tried in his memory to pull back some event or series of events from random years, there was little to recall. Some years he couldn’t remember anything. He knew where he worked, where he lived, he didn’t suffer amnesia, it was just that nothing of value happened to remember.

  He understood that without a family, a wife, children, birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases, and vacations, there was nothing to mark the passing of time. He worked, got a paycheck, and lived one day at a time, alone. The things of adolescence, school, sports, and girls were playing out in George’s life. The dream of leaving Orvin, getting rich, traveling, these were the things that life is built upon. Cole came to the understanding that these are the things we forget. The everyday, routine, the clouds, the wind, the smell of spring, the chaffing of summer heat, the warmth of a favorite sweater, all go by and are forgotten. We forget and we go on.

  Cole gently took the notebook Kelly had been reading. He began to read the entries. The passing of the days of this young man’s life suddenly had more meaning. A wave of melancholy swept over Cole. How much of life he lost. He didn’t regret his life because of where it led him. But the knowledge reflected upon his life by these old notebooks shamed him. Almost like young George’s beloved Charles Dickens’ character Ebenezer Scrooge, Cole felt a new awakening, a new beginning and a new appreciation of each passing day. He read to the end of the notebook, often smiling at the entries and the things that George felt important enough to write down. These notebooks were truly his, others may read them, may enjoy a passage here and there, but the soul of the volumes really only spoke to him.

  Cole looked down at Kelly sleeping and realized he never saw her asleep before. The energy she displayed was now at rest. Her eyes always so full of expression lay covered behind soft lids and long dark lashes. He watched as her chest rose and fell and thought he could almost hear her heart beat. She was altogether lovely. Cole smiled at his good fortune.

  “You are a lucky man, Cole Sage,” he said quietly.

  ELEVEN

  “Hey, you gonna sleep all day!” Ernie Kappas yelled as he pounded on the front door.

  The front door lock clicked and Ernie found himself looking though the screen at the form of a woman.

  “Good morning,” Kelly said, clutching a mug of coffee.

  Ernie stood like a block of concrete. His eyes bulged and his mouth opened in a twisted gape. He stepped back, nearly falling of the porch. He scratched his head.

  “Excuse me,” he stammered, “I thought...I mean I was...”

  “Cole’s in the shower. You must be Ernie.” Kelly opened the sc
reen and stepped out onto the porch.

  “Yes ma’am. Um I, I was, um uh, I’ll come back later.” The big man usually so forceful and brusque was completely undone by the unexpected presence of the beautiful woman before him.

  “Cole should be down in a minute. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Well, I, well, yeah that would be good I suppose. I was goin’ to tell Cole about the, well it don’t matter really. Yeah, coffee, coffee’s good.”

  “Then come on in.” Kelly stuck out her hand and Ernie shook it. “I’m Kelly. I came out to help Cole with the house. I hear you have been a great help. I don’t think our friend is the handiest guy in town, you know what I mean? Seems all right a-scraping paint though, huh? So, Cole tells me you make a delicious thingy with chicken and chilies and mush? Now that I want to try.” Kelly went into the house, heading for the kitchen. Ernie, still somewhat in shock at finding a woman in the house, followed along behind. “So Ernie, you have lived here all your life, huh? Seems like a nice little town. We went to dinner last night at Big Pete’s. Really nice folks.”

  “Yeah, real nice,” Ernie finally squeezed in.

  “You look like a black man to me.”

  “What?” Ernie blurted.

  “That didn’t sound right, did it? I mean your coffee, you take it black?”

  “Yes ma’am.” Ernie laughed softly. “I guess I’m a black man.”

  “Hey, good morning!” Cole said from the kitchen door. “Looks like you two saved me an introduction. “

  “The hell you say.” Ernie frowned at Cole.

  “Kelly’s going to act as my interior decorator. I’m going to see if I can’t get the rest of the house scraped today. Looks like a beautiful morning,” Cole said, bending to look at the sky through the kitchen window.

  “When did you get here?” Ernie said, turning back to Kelly.

  “Yesterday afternoon. What a surprise that rain was, huh?” Kelly said, as she handed Ernie a mug of coffee.