June 2, 1943
Sharon lived with her husband, Ed, on his farm outside Logan junction. Ruby had graduated number one in her high school class and held that same position while attending nursing school in Milwaukee.
Sharon came home. Ruby came home. Thomas and Gertrude were there. Even Frank came. But Jesse was nowhere to be found. Today, Catherine would graduate from high school, and while everyone else lunched on chicken and ham sandwiches, potato salad, three-bean salad, orange Jell-O with grated orange peels, coffee, root beer, and milk, the girl of the hour hadn’t made her appearance at her party.
Will knew that she was hidden away in the hayloft, practicing her valedictory address. And he knew that she was as scared as a rabbit with a fox on its tail. He slipped out the door and headed toward the loft.
“Catherine, are you up there?”
At first she didn’t answer, so he walked up the ramp and stood a moment inside the loft, adjusting his eyes to the dim light. “Catherine,” he called louder.
And then he heard a weak, “Dad?” from the far side of the loft, behind a stack of loose hay. Not knowing what he’d find, he walked cautiously in that direction. He knew this was hard for his youngest daughter, and he didn’t want to embarrass her by catching her crying. And when he saw her, he saw that she was quivering and flushed, but she wiped her eye and attempted a smile when he reached for her hand.
Catherine took his hand and pulled him to the hay alongside her. “Dad, I’m so scared. I should have flunked my last civics exam. Then maybe Liz Roberts would have to give this talk. We were tied going into the semester.”
“Have you memorized your speech?”
“I knew it perfectly last week. But the closer it gets, the less I remember. Right now my brain’s so scrambled I can’t think of a thing.”
“You can use notes, you know.”
“What I’d like is for Ruby to do it for me. She never missed a word in her address last year.”
“Ruby can’t always be your backbone.”
“I know, Dad, but she’s got enough for the both of us. I try to think about this fall, when we’ll be together in nursing school.” Catherine smiled for the first time that day. Then she frowned again. “I’ve got to get through this first.”
“Just look at me the whole time, not anyone else. I’ll be so puffed up that you can’t possibly be scared.” He rose, lifted his daughter off the hay, drew her close, and smiled his biggest smile. “You can’t know how proud I am of you, my dear. Remember, keep your eyes glued on this big, old, ugly mug. Now, if that doesn’t make you smile—”
When she pulled away he knew she wasn’t convinced. He was about to remind her that this was the same advice he’d given her that day so long ago when she and Ruby sang “Playmates” at the Ashley Springs annual talent show. Then he remembered that day turned out bad.
“Dad? Is Uncle Jesse here? He said that he’d come.”
Will took Catherine’s hand and shook his head no. “I suppose he thought Frank might be here. I’m sure he wanted to come.”
“I knew it would be hard for him,” Catherine said. “The whole village will be there.”
That night at the graduation ceremony, Will and Mary sat in the front row. Will smiled his broadest, most enthusiastic smile, and when Catherine faltered on a line, he furrowed his brows, wiggled his ears, and stuck out his tongue. Catherine stopped for a moment, stared at him, laughed at his antics, and then continued on with only a few stumbles.
Afterwards she grabbed her father’s hands, pulled him close and whispered in his ear, “I’d never have made it if it wasn’t for your big, old, ugly mug. But it was the most beautiful one in the house tonight.” She kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you, Daddy.”
Will felt warm all over. It was moments like this that made the hard times bearable.