Show Me The Way

PART ONE – LEAVE ME ALONE

CHAPTER 1 -- BOTTLE OF WINE

She was a dish, there was no doubt about it, and it was a shame because Clyde was pretty sure he smelled bad. He twisted his rain soaked cap in his hands and shifted from one foot to the other, painfully aware that the comically rolled cuffs of his denim work pants held a half pint of rainwater apiece. The girl walked to the file cabinet, extracted a manila folder and returned to the front desk, all business in a clingy, sea green sweater and a pair of slim, ivory slacks.

She opened the folder to reveal a form in triplicate. Now, this is our enrollment form for the General Equivalency Diploma. Do you think you can fill it out by yourself?

Clyde flinched away from the document. If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I'd appreciate you kind of looking over my shoulder while I do this. It’s been a while since I done anything scholastic.

She took a scented Kleenex from a box on her desk and led him to a library table in the cozy, book-lined room. Happily he took a seat next to the radiator. Too late he saw her frown and press the Kleenex to her nose.

She took a seat across from him and picked up a pen from the jar in the center of the table. He closed his eyes and sniffed her perfume.

Name? she asked icily.

C. C. Dupee.

Write your name in this set of boxes over here. She touched each box with a fingernail; not one of those blood red claws that so many women flaunt, but one of five elegant tapering digits, sensibly manicured and lacquered a soft dewy rose. Clyde gaped in wonder at the daintiness of her slim fingers.

Here. She spoke sharply, pushing a pen at him. The pen’s barrel read ‘Fort Hays State University Outreach Center, LaCrosse, Kansas’.

Clyde picked up the pen and gave it his best shot: Clyde C. Dupee. It should have been easy enough but she had him nearly unhinged, what with her kitten-soft sweater, her porcelain complexion, her sunset hair and those piney green eyes. He finished off by scribbling the double e he had been doing since grade school.

Print please.

Oh, sorry. It’s been a while since I wrote anything.

Birth date?

May twenty-six. I’m twenty-nine. You do the math.

She recorded this information in a script that was so perfect he whistled with envy. Gee 'zz, you write pretty.

She dealt him a frozen grimace. Are you a citizen of Kansas?

What does that mean?

How long have you resided in Kansas, Mr. Dupree?

Dupee. I was born here. Been out of the state for a while: Nebraska, Texas, Colorado, New Mexico, a little stint in Mexico. I lived in Portales, New Mexico, until about five months ago. That doesn't make me a citizen of New Mexico, does it? I mean, New Mexico is okay but I would rather be a citizen of Kansas, beings as how my great-great-great-granddaddy settled here before the Civil War. Gray County.

What does the C stand for?

Which C, ma’am?

Clyde C. Dupree. She pointed to the offending C.

Dupee. That particular C is for Cyril. That’s my daddy's name. They call him Cy for short. Cyril was my great-granddaddy’s name, too. He was Cyril Olliphant. He had the bank in Cimarron, in Gray County. My granddaddy was Dudley Dupee. He farmed his own ground, west and south of Pierceville. My first name comes from my other granddaddy, my mother’s daddy, Clyde Logan from Grant County. He was the director of the County Welfare. Clyde fidgeted under the load of names.

Address? she asked, unimpressed.

Clyde was intent on re-inventing a twisted paper clip. Ah, down the street a ways. I’m not sure of the number.

This street? She pointed out the picture window to the street.

Yes, a ways north.

You don’t know your street number? She pursed her perfect lips.

I never thought to ask.

Could you point it out to me? She stood and went to the window.

Clyde remained in his chair, his fingers still working the paper clip. Well, ma’am, it's the jail.

She crinkled her dainty nose and scribbled something on the form.

Clyde hastened to explain. I'm not an escapee or nothin'...I mean anything. I’m on a work release. Fellow I'm working for sent me home on account of...I mean because of the rain. I called up to the jail and got the sheriff’s permission to come in and start my GED. It’s wrote… er written into the release agreement. I received it, the work release, for good behavior. I always behave good … well.

You are working now?

Yes. I’m hired out to a mechanic named Bittner, there at the southwest edge of town, doing welding and scrap work. He likes my work fine. Asked me to stay on after … after my release next month.

You won't be returning to Gray County?

No reason to. They're all dead.

If we begin the testing here...' she began.

I will finish the testing here, he interrupted.

If you decide to move on...

I won't move on. Not until I finish this.

Mr. Dupree, I am trying to make a point. Please listen to me. If you begin testing but find work elsewhere, or decide to move out of Rush County for any reason, we can transfer the tests you have taken to any other GED center in the U.S. If you move before we begin the actual testing, we cannot send the practice test results. You will need to begin the practice tests again.

Okay. When can I take the test?

There are five separate exams: science, social studies, writing, literature, mathematics. We suggest that you begin with your best subject.

Social studies, he nodded.

We recommend that the applicant take practice tests in all the areas before beginning the actual testing.

Oh. Okay. Pencil or pen? He picked up one of each.

Wouldn't you like to study first?

Clyde shrugged. Well, yeah. I didn't know that it was an option.

Why don't you check out a couple of study guides? You could take them... ah... home…with you, to study. We could schedule a practice test sometime next week, she hastily folded his enrollment form into his file folder.

If it is all the same to you, ma'am, I’d just as soon get this over as quick as possible. When can I take that first test?

You can take the practice tests anytime. We need to schedule the actual GED's. Why don't you take that yellow and brown guide there in the corner? It’s comprehensive but simply written. You can keep it for a week.

He looked over her shoulder at the dreary gray afternoon and sighed. If it’s okay with you, I’ll study in here, he nodded at another book-lined room that adjoined the one they were in. I’m not too anxious to get back to my ...room... being's as how I spent the whole and entire winter there.

She filled out a card then handed him a study guide titled Government, History and Geography.

He dug into his pocket and offered her six crumpled one-dollar bills, three quarters, three nickels and a dime.

She did not touch the money. There is no charge to study, Mr. Dupree.

They told me, there at the jail, that it costs seven dollars to test.

The practice tests are free. There is a charge for the actual GED tests. There are five tests. Each test costs seven dollars. We like to collect it all at once, when we begin the actual testing.

I'd rather you took it now. I’m not too circumspect with money. Not right now, anyways. He pushed the money at her.

She took it, reluctantly, and folded it into a lily-white envelope. She wrote ‘C.C. Dupree’ across its face. Once again his heart leapt at the beauty of her handwriting.

She opened the desk drawer and returned the envelope to a small box with a combination lock, shielding the combination as best as she could. She pointed to the study room.

Obediently he entered it and took a seat at a table set into a rain-washed bay window. Outside a flowering quince wept in scarlet glory. Perfume from a mock orange wafted through the open window. Soggy daffodils lined the white picket fence. Clyde sighed, cracked the book, and began to study.

CHAPTER 2 -- NICKLES AND DIMES

Mr. Dupree? A sweet faced, silvery-haired pixie-esque lady whispered, touching him on his shoulder.

He jumped a little at the interruption then grinned. Dupee, he corrected.

There’s coffee cake and coffee in the kitchen, if you want a break.

He smiled. This woman was sunshine, pure and simple. I’ve been smelling it, ma'am, and fighting the temptation. I don't have but forty cents.

She nodded sympathetically and patted his arm. Just slip what you can spare into the jar on the counter. You can make it up next time.

Is there milk? Coffee will kick up my stomach if I don't add milk.

I keep a little half & half in the fridge. Use a dab of that.

Thank you, ma'am. Fellow I work for offered me lunch but he ... Well he’s a heck of a decent guy to give me work, but he keeps a slovenly house. I just couldn't eat out of that kitchen another day.

Don't they give you lunch at the jail? Her voice filled with motherly concern.

No, ma'am. It's a per diem deal they have worked out with him. Usually it’s Spam and it’s pretty hard to mess up Spam, but today he was getting fancy, wanting to throw in eggs. I just couldn't trust those eggs because they’ve been setting on the table all week, Clyde explained.

For whom do you work? The lady asked, biting back a smile.

Oh, I'd rather not say, now that I carped about his housekeeping. Decent enough, if testy, just a bit on the slobby side.

You wouldn't be talking about Joe Dean Bittner, would you? the lady asked with a twinkle in her eye.

Oh, Lordy. I grew up in a town about this size. I should know better than to open my mouth about anyone! Clyde smacked his forehead.

It’s okay, Mr. Dupree. You have Joe Dean in a nutshell. He’s a very decent man if a fellow can get past the crust. His wife died about three years ago. Cancer. It took her suddenly. No prior illnesses. Joe Dean just caved in after that. They only had the one girl and she was married with a girl of her own. She’s just heartsick at the way her daddy is keeping her momma's house, but he won’t let her in to clean. You can't tell Joe Dean anything. Never could. He’s as stubborn and set in his ways as any old boar. Comfortable in his misery, they say.

Clyde shook his head and sighed. "Poor guy. I had no idea. I thought he was a sworn bachelor. There aren't any pictures up, what you can see of the walls. I had an uncle like that; my Uncle Dooley. Not dirty of course, in fact just the opposite, but my Aunt Trudy, she had the cancer. They'd taken the one breast and then it popped up in the other, worse than ever.

She took her life. Went out to the car, turned on the radio to a swing station, opened a can of Coors, lit a cigarette and let the monoxide do its job. She didn't do it out of desperation, but to spare my uncle and my cousin Jules. She had a ten-month-old baby, too, so you know that she did some hard thinking on it. My folks said she didn't want David, he was the baby, to remember her. My poor Uncle Dooley, he sort of closed up after that. Kind of like Joe Dean. I didn't know the whole story, ma'am. I'll be a little less sharp about him in the future.

I wouldn't be too rash, Mr. Dupree. I’m sure Joe Dean won't hold his tongue for your sake. She began alphabetizing a bookshelf.

Dupee. My name is Dupee. Doo-Pay. No R. Not Dupree.

I’m sorry, Mr. Dupee. I must have misread the enrollment form. I’ve never heard that name before.

It is a big name in Gray County. I have a lot of family there. I’m an orphan, myself, but I have cousins, aunts, uncles. Haven't been back in close to ten years.

Well, how do you do, Mr. Dupee? I’m Mrs. Willie Bittner. I’m the director here. She extended a tiny, plumply perfect hand.

Bittner? Like Joe Dean Bittner? I suppose that he’s your uncle or brother or... me and my big mouth! Clyde winced and smacked his forehead.

I was married to Joe Dean's cousin, Willie. They were first cousins. Willie died years ago. Even when he was alive, Joe Dean and I weren’t close. Don't worry about it. Bittner is a big name here in Rush County. Why don't you take some coffee and cake? We'll be closing in two hours.

Clyde wandered into the kitchen and fixed himself a mug of coffee then took a double helping of cake. It was rude but he was hungry, no getting round it; hungry did not sit well on his stomach. Leaving the kitchen, he almost bumped into the green-eyed girl. It seemed like she held her breath as he passed her. He knew for a fact that she counted the change in the jar as soon as he was out of the kitchen; he heard the coins jingle.

He’d put in only two dimes, wanting to save twenty cents for an ice cream cup to watch TV on tonight. He flushed, took his seat and burrowed into his book. Another hour or two passed.

My goodness. You look so serious. What are you reading? The pixie –faced lady asked as she corralled a herd of stray pencils and pens to return them to a pencil box in the center of the table.

Oh it’s pretty grim reading, Clyde said, wiping at his eyes with a hand and showing her a page of graphs.

What’s so grim about graphs?

Infant mortality in Mexico, the U.S. and Canada. You can pack it into pie graphs or bar graphs or net graphs, but any way you boil it down, it’s talking about dead babies. Pardon me, ma’am, but that’s a grim topic in my book.

I guess you have a point, Mr. Dupee. I’ve been around the material so long I must be immune to it. She frowned as she cleared the table of discarded self tests, taking a second to look over his scores.

Are you fixing to close up?

Not for another half hour. Do you need to leave?

No. I don’t need to be back… ah… home until six. Please don’t let me stay past 5:45. The sheriff is a real stickler on time.

He is that, Mrs. Bittner chuckled. You know, Mr. Dupee, you seem to be going through this material fairly fast. How far did you go in school?

Oh, I made senior year before things started going sour. I always was a good student. Not shining, of course, but solid. I probably could have walked with my class but by that time I was in so much trouble that I turned the deal down flat. I didn’t want any favors on account of who my parents were. Do you think that I could take one of them practice tests tomorrow? he asked, folding his notes into a manageable packet.

Well, Tharon is your tutor. You’ll have to ask her.

Tutor?

Yes, her job is to help you study and to set up a test schedule. Let’s call her over here, she said, going to ring a desk bell.

No! I mean she looks so busy and all. I don’t want to disturb her.

Now don’t go getting cold feet. It seems to me, Mr. Dupee, that you would be a very good candidate for practice testing. You do understand that a less than perfect score is no reason to walk out that door and never come back? It only means that more study is in order, she lectured as she stacked a dictionary and a thesaurus on an atlas and a gazetteer.

What kind of name is Tharon?

The woman stifled an impish smile. It was a compromise. You would have to have known her parents.

Did you?

Did I what?

Know her parents.

Oh, yes.

Is she a Bittner, too?

No. She’s a McGee. She’s my niece, my late brother’s only child. I wouldn’t make any comments about Joe Dean and his housekeeping, though. Joe Dean is Tharon’s godfather.

I’ll keep that in mind. She certainly is …efficient, Clyde gulped.

Has she been rude to you, Mr. Dupee?

Oh, no. No, just efficient.

Tharon is a very efficient young lady. With that the sweet-faced lady was gone, leaving Clyde to puzzle out a map question over coalfields, barges, and the Monongahela. He thought he might be in love with her, too.

CHAPTER 3 -- TAKE MY MONEY AND MY CIGARETTES

Do you believe that? Tharon asked her aunt, confronting her in her office and closing the door behind her.

Believe what? Bergie asked, massaging her tired eyes.

He got me to show him where we keep the money!

Oh. The old pay in advance trick? Bergie sighed.

Tharon nodded. I cannot believe that I fell for it. Do you think we should try to hide it or just leave it out in plain sight so he doesn’t hurt us?

Tharon, the fellow rode up on a bicycle. How is he going to make a clean getaway on a bicycle in La Crosse, Kansas, population eight hundred? Look at him! He can’t weigh one hundred and thirty pounds. His glasses must weigh ten of that. His eyes, though, are the deepest, truest blue. I always trust that particular shade.

Aunt Bergie, are you telling me that you don’t know who he is? Tharon hissed.

Are you telling me that you do? Bergie sighed again.

He’s the one. The burglar! That hobo who broke into Monocal’s Pharmacy and held poor old Clark at gunpoint!

Clark held him at gunpoint, and considering that Clark is seventy-two years old, and that this fellow had to dial up the police on himself, because Clark’s hands were shaking so bad, and then fetch Clarks’ heart pills and a glass of water for him, I’d say that he’s less than dangerous. I play bridge with Eloise Monocal and she says that Clark has never been burgled by a more considerate, polite fellow. As far as she’s concerned, he saved Clark’s life.

The very pheomelanin in Tharon’s hair crackled with exasperation. You’ll think congenial when he hits you from behind with a blackjack!! For your information, he’s already robbed us! He only put two dimes in the jar when it is clearly labeled fifty cents! And he helped himself to double cake and your half and half! She would have stamped her foot, except that this very aunt had delivered a very memorable spanking over this same issue, a scant fifteen years ago.

Excuse me ma’am, Mrs. Bittner? Clyde interrupted, softly tapping on the door.

Bergie opened the door with a smile. Yes?

I guess I need to turn this book back in.

I thought you were going to study it tonight, Tharon said, her brows arched.

Well, the rain has started back up and I don’t have no… any way to keep it dry.

As a matter of fact I was just thinking about that, Bergie beamed. "We have several leftover items in our hall closet. I believe that we have a very nice rain proof poncho with a big front pocket. I could loan it to you, but why don’t you just