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    Dearest Pal
    Dearest Pal
    Dearest Pal
    Ebook136 pages1 hour

    Dearest Pal

    By Donna McCall McWaters

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Dearest Pal is the story of one couples journey through courtship, marriage, and separation during the challenging years following The Great Depression (1927-1932) and was written as a tribute to people of the United States who persevered throughout those turbulent years. Dearest Pal captures the climate and mood of the country in the aftermath of one of the most difficult periods in United States history. It is a poignant story of love and sacrifice.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateOct 9, 2008
    ISBN9781467865388
    Dearest Pal
    Author

    Donna McCall McWaters

    Donna is the author of three other books: Cricket Tales, Granddaddy Frog’s Lily Pond Stories, and Under the Queen Anne’s Lace. She finds her greatest voice through her poetry, writing, and art. Donna resides in Clover, South Carolina.

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      Book preview

      Dearest Pal - Donna McCall McWaters

      © 2008 Donna McCall McWaters. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

      First published by AuthorHouse 10/2/2008

      ISBN: 978-1-4389-0867-0 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4678-6538-8 (ebk)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2008907301

      Printed in the United States of America

      Bloomington, Indiana

      This is a work of fiction.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Part 1

      Courtship

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Part 11

      Marriage

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Part 111

      Return to Clover

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Part 1v

      Motherhood

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Part v

      The Parting

      Chapter 19

      Part v1

      Conclusion

      Epilogue

      To the memory of Janice who inspired

      us all in ways she never realized.

      Dearest Pal

      Prologue

      The morning sun streamed through the window and illuminated the dust particles floating in the air. The house, deserted by its inhabitants, settled into a quiet emptiness as the steady tick of the clock magnified the lonely stillness throughout. Janet, relieved in the rare gift of solitude, settled into her favorite chair and heaved a sigh of relief. Silence permeated the room and her thoughts wandered back to another time. She thought of the antique cedar box hidden deep in the back of the closet. She rose from her chair, walked to the closet, and opened the door. She reached for the short stool in the corner and stood upon it. Janet stretched her arm deep inside the top shelf of the closet until she felt the outline of the cedar box and secured it in her arms. Seated once again in the chair, she placed it in her lap and opened the lid. A faint musty smell escaped the box and the yellowed letters lay before her. Quite early in life, Janet had suffered the loss of her mother and grew up alone in the care of her maternal grandparents. She had never known her father and his whereabouts remained a mystery. The antique cedar box came into her possession upon her mother’s death and contained all she knew about him. She never shared the letters or revealed their existence to anyone but kept them a secret as if by doing so she might hold their message captive forever. She often sensed the presence of both parents around her as she read the yellowed letters over and over devouring them with both joy and sadness.

      Janet reached inside the box and lifted the letters out and held them close to her cheek for a time as if embracing an old friend. She untied the blue ribbon that bound them and slipped the first letter from its envelope as a few pieces of the brittle paper fell into her lap. Her eyes traveled to the top corner of the letter and the familiar words Leslie, South Carolina, Tuesday morning, August 22, 1934.

      Dearest Pal….

      Part 1

      Courtship

      V00_9781438908670_text.pdf

      Chapter 1

      Nineteen thirty-four proved a hard year for most families. The country, in a depression since nineteen twenty-nine, offered few jobs or opportunities. Weary in its struggle, the country looked to government for a respite from its troubles. In the small textile towns in the South, countless families eked out a living and prayed for better times. Virginia Dare Nivens was a member of such a family.

      Virginia roused early from her sleep on this August morning in 1934. The day broke hot and humid. The temperature in the room, already oppressive, gave an uncomfortable preview of the day ahead. A faint fragrance of honeysuckle drifted through the open window. Virginia’s mind wandered back in time to the previous summer and the church picnic, the church picnic where Bill first approached her, his sky blue eyes dancing and a sheepish grin on his face. She found herself lonely for the man who had been by her side for over a year and thought about the letter in the cedar box on her dresser. Virginia sprang from the bed. She retrieved the letter and caressed the familiar writing with her eyes.

      Leslie, South Carolina

      Tuesday morning

      August 22, 1934

      Dearest Pal,

      I wonder how you are. I came upon some bad luck since I left. I traveled on the train from Clover to York and from there to Rock Hill yesterday. I spent the night in Rock Hill and let the train leave me this morning. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. I hope to get a long letter from you. I am writing this letter from the filling station where we stopped to get out of the rain the last time we were together. I am listening to Fred Kirby and Moon Light and Skies. Talk about having the blues, I have them. I woke this morning with blues all around my bed. You can mail my letter on to Kershaw. I’ll get there sometime today. I would write more but I must go now. I’ll write more next time.

      So long Pal,

      Bill

      Virginia heard the sound of her mother’s voice and quickly folded the letter and slid it back in the box.

      If only Bill could find work here, She thought. Things might be different then.

      All she could do now was wait and hope for better days. After all, two weeks wasn’t such a long time.

      The kitchen table was clear of dishes as Virginia entered the room.

      Virginia, you’re late this morning and we finished our breakfast long ago. I left some on the stove for you, her mother said. Hurry up though. I have a lot to do and I want out of this kitchen before the day gets any hotter.

      I won’t be long, replied Virginia. If you’ll leave the dishes, I’ll finish up here.

      Your sister and I are gathering the clothes for the wash woman. You didn’t forget that today is wash day did you? Virginia’s mother continued without waiting for an answer. We’ll be in the yard starting the fire for her, she continued. Come on out when you finish here. We’ll need some help.

      Virginia enjoyed Bertha, the tall Negro wash woman with the wide-toothed grin. She enjoyed the bantering and teasing that Bertha quite often engaged in. Her jovial countenance belied the true nature of her life, a life spent in a continual struggle to raise several small children alone. Bertha and her husband had never realized biological children of their own and after his death Bertha took in orphaned children to combat her loneliness. She was a strong woman who never complained of her hardships.

      Virginia hated the thought of the round, black pot with its boiling water. The day was hot enough and the large oak tree under which the pot sat offered little relief from the summer heat. It often took most of a day to boil the clothes, rinse them and hang them to dry. She banished the thought from her mind and walked over to the wood stove to retrieve the plate of food left for her by her mother. She sat alone at the table and picked at the food. The sultry morning heat had robbed her of any appetite. Thoughts of the sudden summer shower a few days before filled her mind. She and Bill had taken refuge under the canopy of a filling station by the side of the road. Enticed by a grove of trees surrounding the lake at the end of the road, they started on a journey down the hot, dusty road. The lake promised an ideal location for a picnic and swim, but most of all, private time alone. She smiled at the memory of running through the rain to the old filling station, clothes dripping wet, and panting for breath.

      The familiar sound of Bertha’s laughter interrupted Virginia’s thoughts. She walked to the window and saw steam rise from the pot as Bertha slowly dropped the clothes into the boiling water. She picked up a long stick and shoved all the clothes under the water. Her laughter filled the air as she teased with Virginia’s younger sister, Catherine, and her mother. The two gold front teeth that Bertha was most proud of glistened in her wide toothed grin.

      Where’s Miss Virginia this morning? Bertha asked. Surely that child’s not still in the bed. Not sick is she?

      Oh, no, Virginia’s mother answered. She’s just slow moving this morning. She’ll join us directly.

      We sure can use her help today, Bertha answered Sure can use her help today.

      Virginia washed the remainder of the dishes and joined the trio in the yard. The hot day stretched long before them.

      The temperature continued to climb throughout the morning and shortly after lunch the heat forced the trio inside. Bertha sipped on a glass of iced tea in the kitchen and wiped the sweat from her brow with a red bandana from her apron pocket.

      Hope we don’t get a storm this afternoon, she said. "That one a couple days ago liked to scared me to death. All my children were running and yelling. I almost never got them to stop. There wasn’t any calming them down until that storm was over. No sir, not until that

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