Mom's Gold Star

Chapter 1

January 1941

Hastings, Nebr.

The wind blew the snow across the cement drive of the gas station and piled it in drifts beyond anything in its way. The drive sprawled out on the south side of the building, surrounding the pumps, then touching the highway to the east and west with a path for the cars and trucks with their drivers to get in and out, in search of the fuel for the tanks or food for the stomach.

The service station was a long building with an office in the center, four stalls for servicing cars on the east and a fair sized cafe on the west. A gaudy neon sign over the front door of the office announced that this was Chuck’s Texaco Service taken from the name of the owner, Charles Anderson.

The service station was the sole source of income for Anderson and his family. In fact, the operation of the place was a family affair. Chuck Anderson was boss of the gas pumps sitting on the islands out front and the service bays where he and his siblings changed the oil and greased vehicles. A vehicle in need of mechanical repair always occupied one bay. The business had a good reputation for fixing the many things that plagued the cars and trucks that carried the citizens of this small Nebraska community.

There was little business at 2:00 a.m. this 1st day of January. It had been snowing all day on New Year’s Eve the strong wind and freezing temperatures piling the blowing snow over the roads and highways, keeping most of the drivers at home.

The station sat on the north side of State Highway 6 at the east city limits of Hastings. The place was open twenty-four hours and usually did a fair business through the late morning hours. Not so this night.

A single waitress sat on a stool in front of the long lunch counter in the cafe. She was the only occupant, the same for the office over in the gas station.

A slender young man sat on an old wooden chair behind the counter his feet propped up on the desk as he thumbed through a magazine. The radio on the shelf behind him played music from Glen Miller’s Orchestra at a New Year’s Eve party somewhere back east. From where the youngster sat, he could see through the glassed door into the cafe. He would take his eyes from the magazine to watch the waitress where she sat on the stool, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. When her attention turned to the station, he quickly moved his eyes back to the magazine, as he didn’t want her catching him looking at her. He felt the urge to go and dropped his feet to the floor and went to the small bathroom out in the service bay. He turned on the light and shut the door. He relieved himself, flushed the old stained urinal then stood looking into the mirror as he washed his hands in the sink. What a dork, he thought as he looked at his reflection. He didn’t know why he wasted his time looking at Stella; she sure as hell wouldn’t pay any attention to him. He turned off the light and went back into the office. Stella Reese was the waitress working the late shift this cold winter night. He thought she was a knock out with short black hair, a pretty face and a sexy body. The white uniform she wore fit her pretty tight. He had a vision of her legs under the short skirt and her big boobs pushing out the top of the dress, straining the buttons. He had many fantasies about Stella; she was something to look at. He didn’t know where she came from. His mother hired her a couple months ago. He knew she was only a few years older than he was but she was much more experienced as she had been married and divorced already. She was always nice to him, but he was sure it was the same way she treated everyone. She was always in a good mood and teased the customers. Her banter with them made her very popular and everyone called her by name, if they came back more than once.

He sat back down behind the desk and picked up the magazine again. He glanced up when he heard a truck motor out on the highway. He stood up, went around the counter and stood by the large window looking out through the blowing snow. Off to the east he could see the flashing lights on a state snowplow. The big truck drove by, snow flying from the plow in front. He watched it go on west into the city.

This place is like a morgue tonight, Bud, Stella said.

The young man jumped away from the voice, almost banging his head against the window.

Christ Stella. You scared the shit right out of me, he said. Give a guy a little warning when you come in.

Now I didn’t mean to startle you Bud. It’s just so dead over there, I’m having a hard time staying awake. What time you getting off? she asked him.

Dad said he and Charley would be in around five. If the roads are blocked, it will be later.

Bud can’t be your real name. What’s your real first name?

Gene.

Why does everyone call you Bud?

It’s a nick name. My mom said her brother started it. When I was little he always called me Bud. Before long, everyone did. It’s probably better than Gene.

I don’t know. Gene is a good name. How old are you?

Seventeen, he responded with pride.

You look older. You a senior this year?

Yea. Why, you writing a book?

Don’t be a smart ass now. You haven’t said more than two words to me all the time I been working here. I’ve met your brother Charley and your sisters Terry and Shirley and they all talk a leg off of me. You are awful quiet though. How come?

My mom says it’s lack of self confidence.

Well now that will change as you get older and more wise to the ways of the world. How about girls? Got a girl friend?

His face turned red and she could barely hear his response.

No. Who would go out with a skinny nerd like me?

Well I don’t think of you as a nerd and you don’t look too skinny to me. What do you weigh?

One forty six.

How tall are you?

Five eleven.

Well you look okay to me. You have thick dark brown hair, a good strong chin, good teeth and a nice straight, wide nose. And your eyes, she put her hand on his cheek to turn his head. Let me see. You have brown eyes. Now that is different. Come to think of it, you are different from all of your family. Everyone has light hair or real blond hair. Anderson is a Scandinavian name. Where did the dark hair come from?

My dad said his side. He had two uncles with dark black hair.

I don’t see any reason for you to lack self confidence. You’re a good looking young man and you will find a girl out there somewhere that will appreciate what you have and fall all over you. I can’t believe you haven’t been out with someone yet. Hell, by the time I was seventeen,-she said, then stopped. You hungry?

Yea!

Well come on. If anyone shows up out in front, you can see from the cafe, she said. He followed her through the door and stood by the counter as she went back behind the counter to the grill. What’ll it be?

How about some eggs and toast? he said.

You got it. Fried or scrambled?

Scrambled.

Get some coffee and go sit in that booth over there and I’ll have some fixed in a jiff, she said.

He went over to the booth and sat where he could watch her. He felt good. He felt excited. The attention she paid him completely changed the boring night into something wonderful. He felt something new and strange when she was close to him. He nearly wet his pants when she put her hand on his face. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. When she turned so he could see her front, he imagined what her boobs would look like if he could see them without her clothes.

He was lost in his fantasy when he heard the bell on the drive. He turned to look and saw a brand new Ford convertible sitting by the pumps. He recognized the car immediately.

Shit! he said out loud. He left the booth and went through the door to the office. He grabbed his heavy coat from the hook by the door and put it on as he went out to the car. The driver’s door opened and Winston Graham, the high society big shot from school stepped out. Fell out was more like it. He could barely stand up. He seemed to be oblivious to the cold and stood by the pumps swaying with the wind.

Fill her up with premium, peckerwood, he told Bud, and then staggered into the office, out to the bay and into the bathroom.

Bud took the hose from the pump and then the cap from the filler spout on the Ford, inserting the hose. He looked through the fogged over windows into the car and saw Patty Harbaugh in the front seat and two more in the back seat he couldn’t identify. Bunch of rich snobs he thought to himself. They don’t have a lot of sense being out on such a cold, snowy night with the roads about all closed. Been to a big shot, rich kid dance somewhere. They were all part of a crowd in school that had nothing to do with him. He was from parents in the working world. Winston had been the quarterback on the football team, a typical school hero. Bud had spent most of the time on the bench.

Winston came out of the station as he screwed the cap back on the Ford and hung the hose on the pump.

Put that on my father’s bill, peckerwood, he said as he opened the door on the car and fell into the seat. He was able to sit up, start the motor and drive off, turning on the highway toward the city.

Bud went inside and made a ticket of the sale and put it in the cash register. He went back to the cafe and Stella brought his plate of eggs to the booth.

Hell of a night for them to be out, she said.

I hope the dumb shit gets stuck and freezes his ass off, he responded.

Who are they?

Rich snobs from school. The one driving the Ford is Winston Graham III, a real ass. His old man owns a factory west of town. He usually doesn’t come out here for gas but I expect we’re the only ones open tonight. These eggs are good, he told her.

Stella slid into the seat across from him and lit a cigarette. She sat looking out the window, watching the snow while he ate.

I hope I can get home when my shift is over. Hell, your mom may not even be able to get in to relieve me, she said. If they make it, will you give me a ride home?

Sure. I don’t know where you live though! he responded.

Over on south Burlington. I’ll show you. I better get the grill cleaned up. Bring me the dishes when you’re done, she said as she put out the cigarette and left the booth.

He watched her backside as she walked across the cafe and went behind the counter. He finished eating, and then took her the dishes. He thanked her, and then went back to the station.

He walked out to the service bays, picking up a shop rag as he went through the door. He went to the furthest stall and stopped, admiring his car. He pulled it inside when he started his shift to keep it out of the storm. He took the rag and started wiping down the dark green paint. The car was a 1939 Mercury. It was three years newer than what his dad drove. Of course his dad helped him get it. The car had been a present from the owner of the Hastings National Bank to his son when he graduated from college. The son wrecked it shortly after he got it and would not hear of having it repaired. He demanded and got a new car. Bud found it sitting in the back lot of an auto body repair shop and was able to buy it at a very good price, considering the insurance company had settled on it and sold it for scrap.

Bud had almost seventy five percent of what it cost and his dad loaned him the rest. They drug it to the station with a wrecker and put it in the very stall it now occupied. He and his dad spent weeks on the car, replacing some parts and fixing others. Bud had painted it himself. It had a flat head V-8 that he kept clean enough to eat off. There were only seven thousand miles on the odometer. It still had the new smell from the factory.

Bud was a very good mechanic. His one great interest in life was a machine he could work on. He spent a great amount of time cleaning and tinkering with his car. He had just finished paying his dad back for the loan on it.

When he had wiped down every inch of the Mercury, he opened all the doors and used a small whiskbroom to clean the floor. He was bent over in the back seat when Stella startled him again.

You ever get any on that back seat? she said.

He rose up startled, striking his head on the back of the front seat.

Jeees, Stella I asked you not to sneak up on me, he shouted, rubbing his head.

I’m sorry Bud. I thought you knew I was watching you. Well, did you?

Did I what?

Get any on that back seat?

Christ Stella, I can’t believe you asked that! he said, a bright red flush spreading over his face.

I don’t know why not. Look at it. It’s as big as a couch, and I’ll bet it’s as comfortable. This upholstery is like brand new. This is a pretty new car for a guy your age. It’s nice, she told him.

Thank you, he said as he went around closing the doors. He walked her back into the office, giving up on the car. She was making him nervous, being so close. He could smell her every time she came within two feet. She smelled of a combination of grease from the grill, the cigarettes she smoked, some kind of perfume and something else. He thought it had to be the smell of a woman. It was certainly new to him. It was enough to get him all flustered and hot.

She went to the window in the office and looked out across the drive.

Boy, it’s really coming down now. The radio said it would quit at daylight, but I don’t think so. I’ll bet all the roads are blocked, she said.

Bud sat down in the chair behind the counter and watched her. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her butt. Each time she moved, he could imagine the skin of each bun under the dress and panties. He leaned back on the chair, his eyes almost closed in his fantasy, when he felt the chair start to go over backwards.

Oh shit! he yelled as he went flying back. He fell on the floor, the back of the chair under him, his head hitting the cement. He felt a sharp pain for a moment, then it passed and he tried to sit up. He struggled around in the small space between the desk and the wall, and then felt her hand on his arm. She stood behind the desk trying to help him up. He was totally embarrassed.

Are you okay? she said.

I must have slipped on some snow I carried in, he responded. From where he lay on his back, he was looking up her legs, under her dress. He just stared at the pink cotton pants. He didn’t know how long he did that until her voice got through to him.

Can you get up? You hurt bad?

No, no. I’m fine, he responded, finally getting to his feet. I feel like a fool!

Why? Did you fall on purpose?

No.

Let me see your head, you bumped it pretty good, she said as she moved to him and put her hands in his thick hair. She felt around as he stood, enjoying her touch and the closeness of her body.

You’ve got a bump here! Does it hurt?

Not much. It was stupid of me.

Need some ice on it?

No. I’ll be okay. Thanks, he said as he pulled away, still a little embarrassed. He picked the chair up and set it behind the desk. To his relief, she walked around the counter and started for the cafe. He watched her go, a nice feeling returning as her hips moved from side to side.

He returned to the chair, keeping his feet on the floor, and glanced up at the clock as he sat down, noting it was a little past four. A news report came on the radio. He half listened to it and half dreamed of Stella. He kept getting a picture of what he saw from the floor.

The radio was set on KFAB out of Omaha and the newscaster was talking about the Germans in Europe and then President Roosevelt dealing with the Japanese. He didn’t pay much attention. He was aware of what was going on in the world in the present time. His teachers at school made sure of that, especially in civics class. He didn’t know it but the events around the globe were deciding what he would do following high school. In fact he had already decided. He was going to join the army after he was out of school. It wasn’t because he wouldn’t have a job. He would always have a job at the station working for his dad. He just had it in his mind to go off and get started in something new. He thought he would try to get with the mechanics. He could work on trucks and tanks. Maybe even airplanes. Yes, he was sure he could fix planes. They had engines like everything else. He could learn. The hard part was going to be telling his mom and dad. He would need one of them to sign for him. He had already talked to a recruiter and they told him a parent would have to give permission under 18.

He sat dreaming about joining the army and then about Stella with no clothes and was not aware it was nearly 5:00 a.m. until he heard a car out on the drive. He went to the window and saw it was his dads ‘36 Ford. The whole family was inside. They all piled out as soon as the car came to a stop.

His dad and brother headed for the office. His mother and two sisters went directly to the cafe. He stood by the door looking at the snow piled on and around the Ford.

God, I didn’t think we were going to make it, his father said as he came through the door. We were plowing drifts clear up to the radiator. Got stuck twice. Had to back up and hit them pretty fast. We jumped up and over them. Looks pretty dead around here, Bud."

Don’t think we had four customer’s all night, Bud responded.

They should get the highway open after dawn sometime, his father responded. Then we’ll be up to our asses in business. Charley, open that door and run the Ford inside. Let some of the snow melt off. The ice is packed around the brakes. Could hardly stop the damned thing.

His brother went out to the service bay and opened the overhead door. He got in the Ford and drove it inside. Bud closed the door behind him. Charley shut off the car and climbed out. He put his arm around Bud’s shoulder and rubbed his knuckles through Bud’s hair. They wrestled playfully until their father yelled at them to come on and they would get some breakfast. Bud thought about his father and brother as he followed them over to the cafe. His dad was just a little shorter than both of the boys. He was lean, with a muscled body. His hair was light blond. Bud thought he was handsome and was thankful that he always treated both him and Charley as young men. He was a good father. He had one trait that drove their mother to distraction and that was his vocabulary. He could seldom say more than three words without one of them being a swear word. She was always after him to stop swearing, to no avail. He could remember many good times spent on the floor of their large old house, wrestling with his dad and Charley, when they were just little boys. His father seemed to love life and was loved by all he met. When it came to his children, he was a softy, handing out little discipline. That task was left to their mother. They all knew they could get away with a lot when it came to dad but no one ever tried to cross their mother.

Another blessing Bud was grateful for was his relationship with his brother Charley. He had many friends at school that couldn’t stand their brothers or sisters. He loved his brother and sisters. Charley had always been a good brother. They had played together, worked together and slept in the same bed until recently when they each got their own. Charley, being the oldest had always looked out for him. If a bully jumped him at school, Charley had been there to black his eye or pull him off, doing the same for the girls. No one messed with the Anderson kids or they answered to Charley and Bud. He knew they had something special. He knew that not every family had it so good. It had to come from his dad and how he treated everyone. Of course, some of it could have come from his mother. She was loving and considerate, yet she made them do what was right. Yes, he thought. It was a little of both. He thought he was very lucky to be part of such a good family.

You three get your coats off and get in here for breakfast before they get those roads open and we fill up with a crowd, his mother yelled at them as they came through the door.

Bud was in a booth with his dad and Charley and his little sister Shirley when his mother and Stella brought them the hot plates with their breakfast. Shirley was talking about the storm and hoping it lasted so that there would be no school the next day. She must be about ten now, Bud thought as he watched her. She was a pretty girl. He thought she favored her father. Unlike Teresa, who was the spitting image of her mother. Bud turned his head to look at Teresa or Terry as they all called her. She was behind the counter, helping her mother prepare for the day. If Shirley was pretty, Terry had to be beautiful. She had just turned fifteen and all Bud ever heard from her was typical adolescent fears and worries. She was not pretty enough. Her clothes were not the right clothes. The girls she went to school with were snots. No one appreciated her. He thought she was having the self-doubts that he experienced. She had been after her mother to let her go out on dates, but she was told she had to be sixteen before she could go. She didn’t argue too much on that point. When mom said no, it was very hard to change it to a yes. Bud knew she was going through the hormone thing the same as he was. He had a strong pull toward girls. She had the same toward boys. He thought she would have an easier time finding someone than him. She already had a woman’s body. He thought back to the summer when he accidentally saw her naked. It was in the shower dad fixed out in the pump house. They had an old tub in the house they drug behind the stove for baths but in the summer, they could take a shower under the big barrel of water his father put up on legs with a spray valve underneath. He went in the pump house to get some water for the radiator on his Mercury and caught her in the shower. She had knockers bigger than any he imagined. She yelled at him when he came in and kept yelling as he just stood and stared. She finally ran him out the door. He thought he had a smile on his face for the rest of the day. The odd thing was though, she never told anyone in the family about it. He wondered why?

Bud shifted his thoughts to Charley sitting across from him. He always thought his brother was a duplicate of his father. Same face. Same color hair. He was also named after dad. Now Charley was the most experienced of them all. He had graduated from High School two years before. No small feat for the times. Almost half of the students in school didn’t stay in high school to graduate. Most of them quit early to go to work. Not in his family. His mother wouldn’t have it. She said they were all going to make it through high school so they better get used to the idea and study hard.

Charley had been with a girl. At least that’s what he told Bud. Bud had no reason to doubt him. Charley was good looking, self confident and well liked, like his dad. He could always get a date. He came home one night from a date and woke me up, Bud remembered. He told every detail of the first time with a girl. Bud listened to him, almost as excited as Charley. He remembered he did not sleep the rest of the night, running the picture of his brother and the girl through his mind.

Quit daydreaming and finish your breakfast, Bud, his mother said, pulling him back to the present. Stella said you were going to run her home when you go. Finish up and be ready when they get the roads open.

Bud looked up at his mother, and then watched her as she went back to the counter. It was really evident that she was the center and real strength of the family. She was just a little taller than dad. She was slender. Some would say skinny, but he thought slender. She had light blond hair she wore short, just touching her shoulders. He thought her face was beautiful. She didn’t smile as much as dad but when she did, it was like the sun just coming out from behind a cloud. He thought she looked too young to be the mother of four children.

The bell in the station rang and Bud looked out the window. A large Diamond T truck was sitting on the drive by the pumps. A snowplow was attached to the front and lettering on the door showed it was one of the city street department plows. Bud said he would get it and hurried over to the office, put on his coat and went out to the pumps. He greeted the driver as he got out, knowing who it was. It was his friend, Jerry Well’s father. He was surprised when Jerry came around the truck.

Christ, Jerry what you doing out in this? he asked his friend as he took down the hose and started to fill the large tank on the truck.

My old man got me up and told me to get in the truck. He said I could make some money cleaning this up. The city is putting on extra help, the young Wells said. You look like shit. You work all night?

I was here. Damn little work. No one could get out here, Bud responded. Is six open into town?

Six is okay and Burlington too, but the side streets are blocked. It’s still drifting in, Jerry responded. I’m gonna get something to eat. He told Bud as he ran to the cafe. Bud filled both tanks on the big truck then went inside to make out the ticket. Jerry’s father came out of the bay area, making some remark about barely making it to the bathroom. He signed the ticket for the gas, then went on over to the cafe.

Bud’s father came in the office and told him to take off. He said to check out the gravel road before he left the highway. If it were blocked, he would have to come back to the station and find some place to get some sleep. Bud went out to the Mercury and opened the overhead door. The cold wind whipped the snow inside as he got in the car, started it and backed out. He jumped out, closed the door then drove the car over in front of the cafe. He left it running to warm up and went inside to get Stella. He went behind the counter and poured a cup of coffee. He told Stella he was ready and she went for her coat.

You take her home then you get on out to the farm and get some sleep. When you get to the gravel going south, you will find that your uncle David has been there with his tractor opening the drifts. You have school tomorrow; so don’t figure on working tonight. Charley and your dad will trade off, his mother told him.

Stella joined him and they hurried out in the cold and climbed in the Mercury. He had good mud and snow tires on the back and the car responded well as he left the drive and drove out onto the highway.

Your mom always talks about the farm. Where do you guys live? Stella asked.

You know where the Showboat corner is just east of the station?

Yes.

You go two miles on east on Highway Six, then turn south on the gravel road. Go two more miles and it’s the first place on the right past the intersection, he responded.

Does your father farm the place?

No, mom inherited it from her folks. My dad’s brother Dave farms it. He lives on down the gravel another half mile on the east side.

So, did you grow up on the farm?

No. We had a place here in town until about six years ago when grandma died. We moved out there then. It’s a nice place. You should come out some time. What’s your address?

Turn south up here on Burlington, I’ll show you, she responded

There was little traffic as he drove on the snow packed street. He turned left at the main street going south and drove several blocks.

That little white house on the corner up there, Stella told him pointing to her place.

Bud slowed and then stopped in front of the place. There was a driveway leading from the street along the north side of the small house.

It doesn’t look too deep. Hang on, I’ll get a run at it, he said as he backed around, getting the car lined up with the drive. He gunned the engine and the Mercury leaped forward plowing into the snow bank by the curb. The car made it about thirty feet and stopped, buried in a deep drift.

Great. It’s a hell of a lot deeper than I thought. Now how in the hell am I going to get out of this? he said.

Put something on your head. I’ve got a shovel on the back porch, we’ll dig it out, Stella said as she opened the door and started for the house. Bud pulled a stocking cap from the pocket of his coat and buttoned his coat up. He found a pair of gloves in the coat and put them on. He got out when Stella appeared in the swirling snow and took the shovel from her.

You go on in. I’ll see what I can do, he told her. It didn’t take any more encouragement for her, as it was terribly cold outside. She took off for the house and he started digging out the snow. He cleared a track behind each rear wheel, then got in and gunned the car in reverse. It shot through the drift and back out onto the street. He backed around then pulled the car over to the curb. He left it running, got out and picked up the shovel and started for the house. He went around in back and onto the porch. He put the shovel down as Stella opened the back door.

You’re soaked. Come in here and get warm, she told him.

He went into the kitchen, pulling off his cap and unbuttoning his heavy coat. She took them from him, stepped out on the porch and shook the snow off. When she came back in he was in the living room in front of the space heater, his back up against it.

Jeees, your shirt and pants are soaked clear through. Get them off or you will have pneumonia, she said.

And wear what? he exclaimed.

"Now get out of them. You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen