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Walter and Margaret

Walter Goad was a skinny, dorky looking young man, self-conscious and unsure of himself. His carrot colored hair stood straight up. There was no way he could make it lay down. Snow white eyebrows and eyelashes framed pale blue eyes. His lips were full and just covered his full mouth of white teeth. He had a look of surprise most of the time, probably because he was. People never behaved as he expected them to.

 

Walter liked his job, he didn’t have to deal with people. He was a hard worker and his employer, Mr. Grumwald the butcher, appreciated his work. Mr. Grumwald had given up trying to start a conversation with Walter, a quiet, withdrawn man. Walter opened early to butcher the beef and pork and dress the chickens before placing them “artfully” in the showcase. He scrubbed and swept and once Mr. Grumwald got there to open up Walter went home.

 

The town of Brown’s Bend, was small, but the bulky domed, stone courthouse in the middle of the town square was big. It was surrounded by old live oaks, their long, thick limbs reaching out for the sun dipped close to the ground, forming an enchanted, shady space beneath. A variety of shops, the grocer, the butcher shop and the bank patiently lined the streets around the square. Walter’s house was on an acre of land along a street with other houses about a mile out of town. He had lived there alone since college. While away at college, his parents had died in a tragic automobile accident and he had come home to take possession of the house. Insurance had paid off the mortgage. Now, at twenty-four, he gardened and worked. The second winter, he had bought a tractor, Mr. Grumwald cosigned for him. Now he worked at the butcher shop, he worked at home keeping house and cooking and in the summer he sold his produce at the farmer’s market in Norton.  He worked his garden in the summer and planned his garden in the winter.

 

As 1951 rolled around, his little town’s population was shrinking. People were leaving, moving away. No one could support themselves with a small farm or small herd of cattle anymore. Many were moving to Norton, the town ten miles to the north that was prospering and growing. Jobs were available there at the big grain company, Martin’s Grain, which grew wheat on hundreds of acres in the area.

 

******

 

Margaret fussed with her dark hair. It had a tendency to frizz but she conditioned it so that it would lie flat so it just hung down both sides of her face. “Well, not much I can do there,” she mused in front of her mirror. Her smile was thin but her big brown eyes framed by thick, dark lashes looked right into you and could draw you away from her long, Romanesque nose. She washed her face and put on her white shirt; not a good choice against her very pale skin. She checked her thin-as-a-rail image in the mirror in her pencil line black skirt and black loafers, turned and picked up her purse. She was going for an interview for a job. She had just moved to Brown’s Bend from down south, running from a broken heart. She had rented a house and needed to work to pay next month’s rent. As she sat in the waiting room of the mayor’s office in the courthouse she was very nervous. Pretty women always had an advantage, just a fact of life, so Margaret knew she had to come across as very charming, intelligent and open. Actually, she was very intelligent, yes, but open? no. To smile and chat someone up during an interview or while helping a customer or dealing with an employer or teacher or professor - - - well it was something she had learned how to do and did it well, but it took effort and will. Once she got a job, she was always appreciated because she made herself indispensable, taking on more and more and doing everything well.

 

She got the job. There was no other applicant. With her first paycheck she stocked her kitchen from the only grocer in town and early Saturday morning walked to the butcher shop. Walter was just finishing up, removing his blood spattered apron when Margaret walked in. He was flustered because Mr. Grumwald was not there yet. He did not like waiting on customers, but he greeted Margaret and asked if he could help her? “Is she new to town? I don’t remember ever seeing her before. Would it be rude to ask where she’s from?” he wondered.

 

“Yes,” she replied in her best upbeat, charming voice. “I would like a small beef roast.”

 

Walter put on his professional behavior and with seeming poise showed her a selection of cuts. “Will this roast, third from your right, be a good size for you?” pointing into the glass fronted counter.

 

“Is that the smallest you have:”

 

“I will be happy to cut one for you, say half of this small one?”

 

“That would be perfect.”

 

After she left, Walter cut the remaining piece of the roast into stew meat, greeted Mr. Grumwald when he arrived and left for home. He was surprised that his morning customer kept popping into his mind as he worked throughout the day. Those big brown eyes had captured him immediately and he remembered her smile and quiet laugh. She was so pleasant.

 

Soon it was the dead of winter with deep snow and bitter cold even on sunny days. On these cold days, he left the butcher shop a little later because Mr. Grumwald came in later. There weren’t many customers that braved the cold and snow to come to the butcher shop early and Mr. Grumwald knew he could depend on Walter to hang around. Two weeks had passed before Margaret came back in. “She must have eaten that roast one ounce at a time to make it last this long,” he thought. Margaret continued to come in every other week during the winter and finally Walter got up the courage to greet her with a “Good morning, my name is Walter. It’s good to see you again.”

 

She smiled and said “Thank you, my name is Margaret.”

 

Winter began to loosen its grip. No fresh snow for weeks and one only had to wear two layers to keep warm rather than the four in mid-winter. Walter had rehearsed for weeks what he would say to Margaret when she came into the store on this Saturday morning. His heart began to race when he saw her coming toward the door. “Good morning Margaret. So nice to see you, what can I get for you today?” He felt comfortable being so familiar because of her sociable behavior each time she came in. Sometimes she bought a chicken, sometimes a pork roast but today she asked for ground meat. Before he could lose his resolve, he blurted out “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

 

Startled, she just stood there looking at him until finally, shyly she nodded and said a quiet, “Yes?” Remembering herself, she smiled and again said, “Yes, yes, I would like that.”

 

Walter and Margaret met at the one café on the square at 6:00 that evening. Far too many locals were there, staring, whispering. They knew Walter well and had never seen him in the café and most had no idea who Margaret was. The two of them were squirming under the surveillance and quickly scooted into a booth. They were still there two hours later. They had burgers for dinner and talked and talked and talked.

 

Margaret invited Walter to dinner at her house the following week. She came to the butcher shop early the day of their dinner and bought liver. Walter had mentioned that he liked liver and onions.

 

Walter had never had much to think about except his gardening. He didn’t much care about Saturdays at the farmer’s market, all those people. He did it for the money so that he could garden. He didn’t “enjoy” butchering; he did it for the paycheck so that he could garden. But now, he thought about Margaret. He thought about her a lot. She was so soft spoken and interesting to talk to. Neither of them had traveled, but they both had read extensively about people and places and history and science and never seemed to run out of things to talk about. She was coming into the shop every week now and they were seeing one another often. He invited her to come out and see his tractor the coming Saturday. She said she would, and he asked if she would like to stay for lunch.

 

Walter was impressed that Margaret inspected his tractor thoroughly and asked questions and even asked if she could drive it. He made hamburgers for lunch and they cleaned up together afterwards. She washed and he dried. He stood by the kitchen counter while she dried her hands and hung the towel on the rack. She turned to him and took his hand in hers and looked into his eyes. He felt a surge throughout his body and hoped she could not feel that he was shaking. She finally dropped his hand and said she should go. He thanked her for coming and helped her find her sweater and she was gone. “Should I have offered to walk her home? Why didn’t I ask her to stay longer? What did she want from me when she held my hand?” He tortured himself the rest of the day and into the night. “What a bumpkin I am.” 

 

He was surprised to see her coming towards the store the following week. He thought he might never see her again now that she knew what a doofus he was. She was her usual smiling self, bought her meat and asked, “Will I see you at the café tonight as usual?”

 

Eagerly he said, “Yes, absolutely, I am looking forward to it.”

 

Walter poured his heart out to Margaret that night. He told her how much he enjoyed being with her and how bad he had felt after she left Saturday. “I like you a lot Margaret and when I thought I might never see you again because of my standoffish behavior I realized how important our friendship is.”

 

“Is friendship all you want for us Walter?”

 

“Can I hope for more?”

 

“Yes Walter, hope for more.”

 

Walter rose and held her jacket for her and took her hand. He led her out the door and put his arm around her shoulders to keep her close as they walked to his house. It was warm and quiet inside and he took her jacket and threw it onto the sofa. The only light was a glow from a night light in the bathroom. Walter moved close to her, put his hand on the back of her neck, pulled her close and kissed her. She melted into him as he wrapped his other arm around her waist and kissed her again and again. She pulled away and began to unbutton his shirt. He wasted no time getting his pants off, but when he tried to unbutton her blouse he just couldn’t do it, she finally had to do it herself.

 

******

 

Spring was coming. The soft air, the sunlight, the longer days, Ah spring. Walter had just finished the salad for their Saturday night dinner and was opening a bottle of wine when Margaret arrived. She walked in the door and straight to him. She leaned into him kissing his full warm lips. Passion grew and he did not stop at removing her sweater. The roast was still hot in the slow cooker and the salad was still crisp at midnight when they finally got around to dinner.

 

Walter asked Margaret to marry him six months after they had met. She said yes. They stood in front of the justice of the peace in Norton to be married on a Saturday night. Margaret was in a new creamy lace dress and Walter wore a new suit with a pale blue shirt that Margaret had picked out because it matched his eyes and he had told the barber to, “cut it short.” They spent Sunday in the finest hotel in town, the only hotel in town, in bed.

 

On the way home Sunday evening, Walter was preoccupied. His old truck needed replacing, it barley got them to Norton to be married and he still had tractor payments. Now he had the responsibility of a wife and Mr. Grumwald was talking about moving his butcher shop to Norton. With more and more people moving away from Brown’s Bend business was way down.

 

******

 

Walter had plowed every inch of his land early spring and planted seed. They both worked in the garden after work and on weekends as summer passed and they sold their goods at the farmer’s market in Norton. They relished the fresh meals they prepared together from their garden well into fall. A winter wind blew in ripping the red and gold leaves from the maple trees in town early October. Margaret was pregnant. Early December Mr. Grumwald told Walter he was closing the shop.

 

“Just not enough business Walter.”

 

He asked Walter if he would be interested in running the butcher shop for him so that he could look for a location in Norton. “I have to close down here Walter, just not enough business anymore. I’ll pay you full time wages if you’ll run this shop until I can get the new location located and everything ready to move.”

 

“Yes sir, I will be happy to do that,” Walter quickly replied. He was proud that Mr. Grumwald trusted him to run the store, but his mind was racing. “Oh my god. I’ll be without a job when he closes the store here!”

 

“Well, then think about this. Will you be willing to continue to butcher for me once I get set up in Norton?”

 

Walter had not thought about that possibility but quickly said, “Yes sir, I would like that and I thank you for the opportunity.”

 

Walter and Margaret celebrated that night with a bottle of wine. T

 

That night Walter lay in bed watching Margaret step out of the shower. He had showered and lay in the dark looking into the brightly lit bathroom. Margaret put one foot on the edge of the tub to dry her calf and foot. Her heavy breasts hung down. She had filled out with approaching motherhood and their excellent diet revealing her woman’s figure. As she stood with her back to Walter he admired her tiny waist and the swell of her hips. She hung the towel on a hook, flipped off the light and slid into bed. She was soft and smelled of soap.

 

Walter Jr. was born the following summer and Margaret and Walter were mesmerized by that tiny little being. Walter watched Margaret nurse him and held him while Margaret bathed him in the kitchen sink. Having those tiny baby fingers curl around his finger was so miraculous to Walter that he was loath to leave for work. Margaret went back to work the first of September. They had found Mrs. Weber, a widow in town, eager to keep Baby Walt during the day.

 

One sunny Sunday, Walter was working on his tractor and raised his head to wipe the sweat off his brow. His arm raised, shielding his eyes, he watched Margaret walk out of the house holding Baby. She had set his swing up in the yard to get a little sun. Margaret no longer conditioned her long, thick, curly hair and she had gathered it up into a high, pony tail. Her thin body had filled out. She had curves. Her skin was brown and her cheeks were pink from the heat of the sun. Her profile was that of an Egyptian Queen. Margaret was beautiful.

 

Winter storms moved in, making it difficult for Walter to get to Norton at times, but the three of them stayed cozy and warm as Baby thrived, delighting his parents. The old truck died. It took a lot of collateral to get a loan at the bank in Norton and Walter already had debt with his home as collateral. It had not been a good summer. Not enough rain. The garden had suffered. Margaret picked Baby up after work one grey evening and once he was down for the night she broke her news to Walter. Her job was being phased out in thirty days.  

 

Margaret was undone. She sobbed, “What are we going to do?” They went to bed and Walter held her and stroked her hair until she slept. He did not. By morning he had a plan.

 

Walter took the bus to Norton the following morning and as soon as he finished at the butcher shop he walked to the bank. He strode up to the receptionist and said he needed to speak to a loan officer. She smiled broadly, asked his name and jumped right up. She returned to say that Mr. Beltic would be with him shortly.

 

“May I get you something to drink Mr. Goad? We have fresh coffee.”

 

“No thank you,” he replied and thought. “She doesn’t remember me. She was never rude the times I was in here before but certainly never as charming as today.”

 

Mr. Beltic walked out to shake hands with the tall, tanned, handsome young man striding towards him. Walter’s carrot colored hair was cut in a close flat top and his well-muscled, wide shoulders filled his western shirt. He strode right up to Mr. Beltic in well-worn cowboy boots and tight jeans with hand outstretched. He flashed his big white smile and drew Mr. Smithers right into those blue eyes. He thanked Mr. Beltic for taking the time to see him as he took Mr. Beltic’s hand in a firm handshake.

 

Mr. Beltic was eager to provide the necessary loan to Walter for a new truck. His work history and prompt payments on the tractor loan were all that was required. Walter walked out of the bank with enough money in his checking account to buy a truck and the entire procedure had taken less than half an hour.

 

When Walter drove into their driveway in a good looking two year old truck that afternoon, he just sat there stunned that it had been so easy. Over dinner that night, he expressed his amazement to Margaret.

 

She simply said, “The pretty woman gets the job and the raise.”

 

“What?” he asked.  

 

Margaret and Walter looked nothing like the two people who had met three years ago. Was it love that brought transformation? Was it feeling loved or appearance that brought self-confidence? People paid attention to handsome Walter and Margaret. Would Mr. Smithers have taken Walter’s request for a loan seriously if the shy, skinny, dorky Walter had walked into his office?      

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