part0007

FREEZING temperatures had arrived, and ice-laden tree branches had fallen overnight. Fred, after completing his work on the farm, had walked four miles to a neighbor who needed help repairing his tool shed that had been damaged when a six feet long tree limb fell on its roof.

Fred was naturally gifted with carpentry skills, was always willing to help someone in need, and, truth be told, knew this neighbor would give him a little something that he could use to take Margaret out again. Little did he know that he would gain something even greater than monetary appreciation.

Fred was up on a ladder, hammering boards into place when a man came walking through the yard. He carefully observed Fred’s work, and was watching so intently he was making him a bit nervous. Fred continued to work, pretending not to notice the man. He wanted to get this job done, and done right, without distraction.

“You’re doin’ excellent work there, son.” The man finally spoke.

“Thank ya, Sir.”

“I see you strengthened the supports there. Smart,” the man continued as he walked closer and studied Fred’s work.

“Yes, Sir.” Fred was feeling a bit frustrated with the interruption. “Somethin’ I can do for ya, Sir?”

“Actually...” the man paused to spit and Fred noticed the tobacco in his mouth, “there’s something I can do for you. My name is Maxwell Hill.”

He stuck out his hand and held it ‘til Fred climbed down the ladder and completed the handshake.

“I’m Fred Crawford. You’re the Mr. Hill that owns Hill Carpentry?”

“Indeed. I’m about to get real busy this next year doing some cabinetry and other work for the mayor. My brother, who’s a contractor, is looking for good workers for some building projects for local government this spring. I heard you had talent, and thought I’d see for myself.”

“I see. You think I got talent?”

“Boy, do I! How’d you like to be my apprentice this winter? I could teach you some things that would prepare you for doing bigger projects, and you could maybe work with my brother later on.”

Fred’s head was spinning. He knew this was a terrific opportunity, but there was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that wouldn’t let him agree to the job offer.

“I really ‘preciate your offer, Mr. Hill, but I’m a farm hand. My family needs me to help keep the farm goin’. I don’t think the time is right for me to leave and do carpentry work.”

It pained him to say it, but he felt he must.

“I understand,” Mr. Hill said, obviously disappointed. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. You’re welcome to come by the shop anytime.”

He tipped his hat and walked away. Fred, feeling disappointed himself, climbed back up the ladder and went back to work. Focusing on the task at hand helped to keep his emotions in check. He was sad, mad, and yet, felt he was doing the right thing. Except. Margaret. He wanted to propose and start a life together with her, but he needed a paying job. A paying job like the one he just turned down.

He sighed, cleared all thoughts from his mind, and set to work. Thinking about it just made him emotional, and he needed a clear head to finish this job. He took out some of his frustration on the nails and boards, finished and cleaned up the work area. When he stepped back to survey the repaired shop, he had to admit to himself that he did good work; and he loved it. Working with wood gave him a satisfaction that farming never did.

With a heavy sigh, he loaded up his few tools into a sack and headed for home. He didn’t even feel like sticking around to see if he’d be offered a little money for his work. He just wanted to go home and go to bed, and forget everything.

December was fiercely cold, but only half an inch of snow had fallen so far. This meant that roads and sidewalks were clear, and this, along with store sales and decorations, beckoned people to downtown for shopping and leisurely walking. This particular evening, Bert and Doris were strolling through shops looking for Christmas gifts for her parents. With their wedding only two weeks away, they were also searching for small tokens of appreciation to give their bridesmaids and groomsmen. It would be a relatively small affair, with just three attendants each and a flower girl, Doris’ neighbor’s daughter who was six years old. As they walked along, they came upon a familiar face.

“Isn’t that one of the Crawford boys?” he asked Doris.

She squinted her eyes in hopes of a better look.

“Why, yes, I think it is! Looks as though he has a girl with him.”

“Indeed he does. And a lovely girl at that. We should say hello. ”

They walked up to Fred and Margaret, who were standing near the entrance to the soda shop, and introduced themselves.

“I remember you! It’s good to see you,” he said as he shook Bert’s hand. “This is Margaret.”

“Good to meet you, Margaret. Say, are you two heading in here?” Bert pointed to the store door.

“We were actually just looking around,” Fred said with a bit of embarrassment in his voice.

Bert’s intuition told him this young couple didn’t have the money for shopping or sodas.

“Why don’t you join us for a soda? We could use a break from shopping, couldn’t we, Doris?”

“Yes! Please join us.”

“Our treat,” Bert encouraged, “a little Christmas cheer from us to you.”

Fred and Margaret agreed and joined them in a booth for sodas in large frosted glasses with tall straws. After they had enjoyed their drinks and conversation, the women decided to walk next door to the dress shop. The men stayed behind to chat, and mostly, to avoid dress shopping.

“You’ve got a real nice gal, Fred.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m wantin’ to marry her, but…” he suddenly looked sad and turned his head away to avoid eye contact.

“Is something wrong? Why don’t you propose?”

“I’d have to get a steady job first so I could support a family. I only got a third grade education, but I have a chance to apprentice with Mr. Hill, a carpenter.”

“That sounds like a terrific opportunity. I’ve seen Mr. Hill’s work. He’s very skilled.”

“Yes, Sir.” Fred hesitated and still looked forlorn.

“But?” Bert persisted.

“My family needs me. All of us work that farm together, and if I leave, it will be work for the younger ones. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do, at least not yet.”

Bert nodded with understanding. Family commitment is honorable, and yet, it can hold a young man back from creating his own life. Bert knew this first hand.

“When my mother died,” Bert began, “I was fourteen, in high school, and writing for the school paper. I knew I wanted to be a writer, and my parents had always supported that decision. But, with my mother gone, I felt like I should be more help to my father. I dropped one of my English classes that next year and took shop so I could learn about mechanics. When Pop found out, he sat me down and told me to switch my classes back. He said the best thing I could do for him was to become my own man and use my God-given talents; not to follow after him out of some kind of loyalty. I’ve sat with your father and heard wisdom that comes from a life of experiences like his. Talk to him. I think he’d be happy to see you pursue your dreams and have a family of your own. ”

“Maybe you’re right. I guess I should talk to him an’ see what he says.”

Just then, the ladies walked back in from next door with nothing but their pocketbooks.

“No shopping bags? You meant to tell me you didn’t find anything?” Bert teased.

“Oh, we found plenty, but we agreed this is the time of year to buy for others not ourselves. Besides, the prices were a bit high, weren’t they Margaret?”

“Yes, ma’am! I couldn’t imagine spending such. I make my own dresses.”

“And you do such beautiful work!” Doris exclaimed.

The couples left the soda shop and meandered around town, enjoying each other’s company and the festive atmosphere. Ted Weems and his orchestra’s rendition of “Winter Wonderland” played on a radio near the entrance of the department store. It was upbeat and cheerful, and combined with the soft glow of Christmas tree lights and the smells of kettle corn and hot chocolate from curbside vendors, it created an ambience of holiday joy.

A.J. Crawford was, as always, up and out the door before anyone else. He had made himself coffee and had put on as many layers as he could find; long-johns, overalls, and an extra shirt over the top.

He was standing by the poultry house when Fred came walking up behind him.

“Mornin’, Pop.”

“Mornin’, son. You’re up early.”

“Yes, Sir. I didn’t sleep much anyway. I was wantin’ to ask you about somethin’.”

A.J. had a premonition about this conversation. Fred had been hangin’ around that Chandler girl every chance he got.

“Go on,” he nudged.

“Well, Sir, I was wantin’ to ask her daddy for her hand, but knowin’ I need work to support a family, I’ve been waitin’. Ya know, Mr. Hill asked me to apprentice him.”

“Yes, he told me about that. Said you told him you weren’t ready yet.”

“I wasn’t. I couldn’t accept his offer. You rely on me to get stuff done ‘round here, and…I don’t wanna leave ya hurtin’ for help.”

A.J. examined his son; tall and strong, a fine young man with morals and a solid work ethic.

“We won’t be hurtin’ for help. Boy, ya listen to me good now. You’re skilled at wood workin’. You can make a good livin’ and support a family with it. I ‘preciate you bein’ loyal to this family, but it’s time for you to be the man of your own home. In fact, there’s a good little house needin’ a bit of work you could do just down the road, still in Dogwood Alley. I’m sure we could arrange somethin’ with Mr. Fox in return for you fixin’ up the property. Look here, son, that Margaret is a fine girl, and will make you a good wife. If you’re ready to propose to her, you go ahead and do it before some other boy comes along and sees what a prize she is.”

Fred grinned and nodded.

“Yes, Sir. I’m ready. I was thinkin’ Christmas Eve would be romantic and such.”

“I think that’s a right good idea,” A.J. agreed and gave his boy a hearty pat on the back.

Bert stood in the groom’s room of First Presbyterian Church, shivering both from cold and nerves. His groomsmen, which included Bob the newspaper photographer, were sitting around in tux tails and bowties, puffing on cigars and pipes, and ribbing Bert about his nervousness. He ignored them and stared at the high ceiling, admiring the architectural details such as the crown molding.

The church was Knoxville’s first congregation; founded in 1792, and built on an old turnip patch willed by James White, founder of Knoxville, to his son for the expressed purpose of building a church and burial grounds. A modest start to a now large and growing congregation.

Doris stood in the bride’s room with her maids and flower girl. She wore a long-sleeved white satin dress that reached the floor and trailed behind her two feet in length. Her white sequined headband held a veil that flowed to her waist, and in her arms, she carried white calla lilies with a few red roses and large stems of greenery tied with a wide white ribbon.

The ladies, adorned in ankle-length green satin dresses, were straightening bows, touching-up their hair and make-up and giggling as they discussed who would be the next to marry. Doris was all smiles, but deep inside she had butterflies. She was confident in the decision to marry Bert, but nervous at the same time. It was incredible the fluctuation of emotions she was feeling; so she focused on carefully applying one more coat of lipstick.

As the organ began to play, the women lined up in the foyer and began their descent down the aisle. Doris took her father’s arm and consciously breathed slow, deep breaths to keep herself calm. The walk down the aisle felt as though it took hours, but the expression on Bert’s face when he saw her up close and took her hand…that made all the nerves, the crowd of people, the booming sound of the pipe organ, all fade away into the background. The only thing she saw was his handsome face, and the thing she heard was her father say with a crack in his voice, “Her mother and I.”

Moments later, with vows being said and prayers being offered, Bert and Doris exited the church through the front doors and down the marble steps while their bridal party and family threw rice high in the air and yelled congratulations as they passed by .

Once in their car, they cuddled up close together and headed down the road towards their home, Bert’s apartment. Rather than honeymoon away, the couple had decided to start their life at home and use some of their savings for household items. The rest of their savings remained to be increased over time and used for the purchase of their own house sometime in the next year or two.

Doris, always the practical minded one, had convinced Bert this was the best way to honeymoon; at home, just the two of them, settling into life together. As he carried her across the threshold, she laughed and smiled and kissed his cheek. He set her down and took her in his arms and gave her the most passionate kiss in the history of kisses. Their at-home honeymoon had begun.

Christmas Eve…it was forty-four degrees with light rain; the kind of weather that made you want to stay indoors in your pajamas sipping hot cocoa by the fire. That’s exactly what Bert and Doris did, minus the fire. Snuggled on the couch, listening to Christmas music on the radio, they relaxed in each other’s arms.

“Let’s exchange gifts, now!” She said.

Doris was as excited as a kid, and exceptionally lousy and keeping gifts secretly stashed away. She longed to give gifts so badly, they often made it to their intended recipients well before the holiday. Bert laughed as she jumped up and grabbed a wrapped present from the under the tree.

“You first!” She insisted.

“Doris, darling, shouldn’t we wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“Who says you have to wait ‘til Christmas day? Besides, Mother and Father will be here tomorrow and we’ll get busy spending time with them.”

“Alright. Grab your gift and we’ll open at the same time.”

She practically squealed as she ran over to the tree and picked up her gift. They tore open the wrapping paper at the same time, and ooh’ed and ahh’ed over what they received.

Bert held up his engraved cigar case. “Look at this! A handsome case for my cigars! The fellas will think I’m snazzy when I pull this out of my pocket.”

“Oh, do you like it really? I thought it would be nice to keep them fresh and dry.”

“Darling, I love it. You haven’t finished opening your gift!”

She opened the box to find a beige cloche hat of felted wool with a wide ribbon around it and silk flowers on the side.

“It’s gorgeous! This is the one I noticed at the shop downtown!”

“I know. Being a journalist makes me observant, you know,” he said with a laugh .

She hugged his neck, kissed his cheek, put on the hat and modeled it for him.

“You’re a vision.”

“Nonsense. I’m in a housecoat and slippers with a fancy hat!”

“You could start a new fashion trend, my dear. Stay as you are and let’s go out.”

“Heavens, no!” She laughed and fell back on the couch into his arms.

“Well, since most people are home with their families and not out and about to see you in your fine display, I guess we can just stay here.”

“Good idea. I’ll make us something to eat.”

She stood up to head to the kitchen, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the couch.

“That can wait,” he said as he pulled her closer to give her a kiss. Brunch was obviously postponed.

Christmas Eve at the Crawford farm found the entire family nestled inside with a fire in both the stove and the fireplace. Mrs. Crawford was baking apples and biscuits for everyone. The sweet and spicy of apples baking blended with the smell of wood burning. Mayme and Nola were hanging socks and Henry had gone outside to check on the chickens. Fred was nervously pacing in as best he could in a small, cramped house .

“Set yourself down before run someone over!” His mother reprimanded him.

“Try! Here, have a seat.”

She pulled out a chair and motioned him over to it.

“What if she says no?”

“She ain’t gonna say no. Ya talked to her daddy and he agreed. She’s been courtin’ with ya e’ery week for months. She’ll say yes and that’ll be that. Quit yer worryin’.”

Fred knew his mother was right, but his heart still raced and palms were clammy. His siblings were whispering and snickering, and making him crazy. Just then, there was a knock at the door. He jumped out of his seat and hurried to open the door.

Margaret stood there with boxes in her hands, wrapped up tight in a wool coat, scarf and hat.

“Don’t just stand there! Let her in before she catches cold!” His mother called from the kitchen.

He let Margaret in, and could barely take his eyes off her rosy-cheeked face to help her with her packages. She handed him a box with small gifts of tops and jacks for the youngest of his brothers and sisters. Then she handed his mother a cherry pie she had baked herself.

“What a beautiful pie, Margaret.” Mrs. Crawford complimented .

“Don’t take off your coat,” Fred interrupted, “not yet. I need you to walk with me for a minute.”

“Sure.” She tightened her scarf around her neck, secured her hat and followed him outside.

“I’m sorry to have you out here after you walked up the hill, but I wanted to talk with you away from everyone else.”

“I understand.” She gave him a warm smile.

He took her hand and led her to the edge of the largest grouping of dogwood trees. It began to spit snow; large, fluffy flakes that melt as they touch the ground, but pretty to look at nonetheless.

“Margaret, ya know I’m awfully fond of ya, and I spoke to yer father…” He was so anxious he could hardly think straight. “I love you. Let’s get married. I mean, will you? Will you marry me?”

It wasn’t the most polished proposal speech, but it got the job done.

“Yes! I love you, too.”

They hugged and gave each other a short, nervous kiss. Then, hand-in-hand, they walked back to the house to share the good news.

As the snow fell, more and more families stayed indoors to enjoy each other’s company and the warmth of togetherness. Smoke rose from chimneys, lights glowed through windows, and smells of baked goods filled the air. Even a depression, the Great Depression, couldn’t stop Christmas from coming to Dogwood Alley. Fred squeezed Margaret’s hand as he surveyed the room of smiling faces. They didn’t have much in material things, but they had each other. They had love and hope for good things the future may bring. He finally realized that he wasn’t leaving his family, he was adding to it; bringing in Margaret and the children they would have.

His gaze fell to his father, sitting in a corner strumming an old guitar with a broken string as the children sat around him singing and playing with their tops and jacks. They made eye contact, and his father gave him a wink. Suddenly, the others began to look his way and laugh. He turned towards Margaret who was blushing as she looked up over his head…mistletoe.

“Ya gotta kiss her! It’s the law!” demanded Sam.

“Well, I ain’t gonna break the law,” Fred said; then he grabbed Margaret and planted a big kiss right on her lips to the delight of everyone in the room.