The Day Steam Died Part 6

She clinched her hand into a fist when he opened the box and tried to put the ring on her finger. "I can't," she said. "I care about you, Jerry, but I don't know if I can make that kind of commitment yet. You don't know anything about me."

"I know I love you and will be a loving father to Ricky. You're a wonderful woman and mother. What else is there to know?"

A strained silence made Ann uncomfortable. Undaunted, Jerry stood and, still holding Ann's hand, motioned for her to stand.

"Come on, let's get out of here. I want to show you something."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see in a minute."

Ann's head was spinning from the wine. Jerry had an intensity about him that unbalanced her.

The drive from Liberoni's on Trade Street to West End Drive took only a few minutes. Their rented Lincoln Town Car climbed to a dark hilltop and made a sharp turn into a shadowed driveway.

The crunching sound of a gravel driveway fell silent. In the beam of his headlights she could see they were sitting in front of an old Queen Anne style Victorian house.

"What's this?" She squinted to focus her wine-impaired vision on the showplace mansion.

"Our house." He got out of the car and came around to the pa.s.sage door. After opening it, he offered his hand and said, "Come in and let me show you around."

They entered through a ma.s.sive nine-foot oak and beveled gla.s.s door into a s.p.a.cious vestibule illuminated by a crystal chandelier. They stood at the base of a spiral staircase that corkscrewed its way to the third floor. To the left through opened pocket doors with s.h.i.+ny bra.s.s doorplates was the living room complete with overstuffed love seat, richly printed upholstered wingback chairs with side tables adorned with Tiffany lamps.

Ann looked in awe at the large fireplace with marble hearth and a carved mantle. "Jerry, this is beautiful." Ann continued to the sitting room-more beautiful Victorian furniture, including an elegant chiffonier modified to contain the latest thirty-two inch color TV.

Through draped French doors they entered a chandelier-lit dining room. She gasped at a mahogany dining table that would seat a dozen people in Chippendale chairs.

"This is so beautiful. Seriously, who lives here?" Ann questioned.

"n.o.body yet. I've been working on it for years and kept it a secret," Jerry said. "I restored it while I was waiting to meet that special person to share this house and the rest of my life with. And you're that person, Ann. Do you think you, Ricky, and I can be happy here? The difference in our ages doesn't matter to me. There's even room for your mom and dad and Jo Lee, if you want."

"This is unbelievable."

"You haven't seen the best part yet."

Taking her hand, he led Ann up the sweeping spiral stairs to the master bedroom suite on the third floor. The streetlight shone through parted drapes of the floor-to-ceiling window coming to rest on the four-poster Rice bed's pillows and down comforter.

Ann struggled to understand what was happening. Between the wine and this surprise, she could hardly keep standing. "I don't know what to say. This looks like something out of Gone with the Wind. I need to think-"

Before Ann could finish, Jerry pressed his lips against hers and pulled her against him with forceful, enveloping arms. She responded by kissing him back. The wall of resistance she'd built up for so long tumbled down.

Jerry moved her toward the bed. Without words, he caressed her neck. Ann allowed herself to be loved like she hadn't been since Rick, which felt so long ago. She gave into her sensuality, allowing Jerry to undress her ever so gently.

"Are you sure I'm the one you want?" she whispered.

A hot stream of pa.s.sion awakened ever nerve ending in her body, responding to Jerry's soft hands ma.s.saging her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and working their way down her undulating body. She ached for his touch. All resistance was gone, the years of pent up emotions released with a flood of pa.s.sion, her undulating hips eager for him to be inside her.

Her body responded violently to Jerry's animal thrusts again and again as the night slipped into a spiral of torrid lovemaking.

Early morning sun replaced moonlight on their bed the next morning. Ann woke up to find Jerry propped on one elbow watching her sleep.

"Good morning. Sleep well?"

"Like I haven't slept in years," Ann said. "Is this real, or am I still dreaming?"

"Oh, it's real all right. Last night was no dream. Maybe a dream come true for me. Definitely the first night of what the rest of our lives can be like."

Jerry held Ann's face gently in his hands, kissed her, and rekindled the embers of pa.s.sion still glowing from last night.

The smell of fresh coffee beckoned Ann downstairs. She'd just finished her shower and was trying to make her hair look like it hadn't been combed with a pitchfork.

Descending the magnificent staircase, Ann pretended to be Scarlet O'Hara wrapped in dark green silk bed sheet she'd found in the linen closet. She made a grand entrance into the dining room. There was just enough opening in front to reveal that she was wearing nothing underneath.

"Wow, you look so beautiful," Jerry said from his seat at the table, a cup of coffee in his hand and one waiting for her. "We should do this more often."

"Good morning, Rhett," Ann said, her chin lifted high. "I'm Scarlet and am famished."

Ann sat completely naked at one end of the table with her green cloak draped over the back of her chair. Facing Jerry at the other end, she was still feeling the freedom she'd allowed herself last night.

After a breakfast of French toast, strawberries smothered in whip cream, and strong Cajun coffee, reality returned and the mood was gone.

"Oh my G.o.d!" Ann screamed. "I didn't call mother. She'll worry herself sick wondering where I am." She rewrapped her body with the emerald sheet and scrambled up the stairs two at a time.

"Don't worry," Jerry called after her, "you're a big girl and your mother trusts me."

He entered the bedroom just as she pulled on her dress that still smelled of Liberoni's lilac scented candles. Jerry walked over to Ann, who stood in front of the mirror trying desperately to arrange her rumpled hair, and slipped his hands around her waist.

"Would you like a second chance on my offer last night?" Pulling her snuggly against his body, he placed the ring in front of her. "It would look much better on your finger than in this box."

She turned to face Jerry and wrapped her slender arms around his neck. "Do you still want to marry a woman that looks like this on the morning after?"

"In a heartbeat," Jerry answered and slipped the diamond ring on her finger. "Your mom can't be too mad now if I'm going to make an honest woman out of you."

In spite of Ann's worry about her mother's reaction to the sudden change of events, Alice was pleased with the announced engagement. They sat together at the kitchen table, already talking about plans for the wedding. Jerry was seated in the living room, Ricky on his knee, happily playing together.

"Oh, Ann, I was praying for this."

"Momma!" Ann said with exaggerated surprise. "I didn't know you were that sweet on Jerry."

"A mother knows a good man for her daughter when she meets him, but it's up to him to do the right thing."

"Pleased to please," Jerry said.

Ann and Alice laughed together, feeling years of weight lifted from both of them.

"We can have a June wedding," Alice said. "Ricky can be your ring bearer. Your father will be pleased, too. You'll have him walk you down the aisle, won't you?"

It wasn't something Ann had thought about. All the hurt from the days in their old apartment returned in a flood of anger. Years of heavy drinking destroyed his liver and now senility had robbed him of his mind.

"I don't know if I can ask him to do that," Ann said. "He hardly speaks to me. Occasionally he seems to recognize Ricky. Even if I can forgive him enough to walk down the aisle with me on what's supposed to be the happiest day of my life, will he be able to do it? What if he starts taking his clothes off like he does at home when he has to go to the bathroom? What would we do then, Momma?"

"Oh, honey, you know he wouldn't do that. He has his clear moments. He'll be pleased to see you happy and married to a fine young man like Jerry. Let me handle him. I promise he won't embarra.s.s you."

"You never stop protecting him, do you Momma? After all these years, how can you do it?"

"When you take your vows for better or worse, that's what they mean," Alice said in a whisper, tears in her eyes.

Jerry stood and put Ricky down on the floor to play with his toys. "Ladies, if you'll excuse me, I think that's my cue to leave the details to you all and get out of your hair. I'll call you tonight, Ann." He gave Ann a kiss on her cheek then rushed out the door and let out a war whoop loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

"Momma," Ann said after Jerry had left, "I'm really sorry I didn't call you last night."

"You're a grown woman. You don't owe me an apology. I'm just so happy for you. Maybe now you can have your own life. Jerry is a good man. He loves Ricky and will take good care of you."

Still delirious over his engagement, Jerry bounded up the steps to his mother's house. He burst into the kitchen where he knew she would be waiting for him with a worried look on her face.

"Good morning, mom. I have something to tell you. Can I get you another cup of coffee?"

She was at the kitchen sink, cleaning up from breakfast. "No, thank you." When Jerry went to the coffee pot, she continued. "Where were you all night last night? I almost called the police. I didn't know if you were dead in a ditch or what had happened to you."

"I'm sorry I didn't call," he said, putting a fresh cup of coffee on the counter next to her, "but I think you'll like what I have to tell you."

"Did you spend the night with that Nestlebaum girl?" Her tone was bitter accompanied by her cold stare.

Jerry hesitated momentarily before saying, "Yes, and she's not that Nestlebaum girl. She's my fiancee. We're getting married!"

"Back in my day a girl saved herself for marriage," she said. "Those that didn't were considered tramps."

"Come on, Mom, this isn't the thirties. I thought you liked her."

"Change isn't always a good thing."

"If you're worried about me leaving, you could always come live with us."

"No, thank you. I'll stay right here. I can still take care of myself."

Jerry's shoulders sagged. "I thought you would be happy for me. You were always saying how I was going to be an old bachelor if I didn't settle down soon. Then when I find the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, you get upset."

She turned from the sink and leaned against the counter, her arms crossed and coffee cup in hand. "I thought she was a fine young lady, raising a son by herself and providing a home for her mother and father. I'll just have a hard time seeing her in a white dress."

Jerry put up his hands in defeat. "Fine. She can wear a blue dress. We are adults and just because we broke one of your rules doesn't mean we're bad people. I hope you will come to see what a fine woman and mother she is. Just cut her some slack, okay?"

His mother curled her lips.

Jerry had put the last piece of his life's puzzle in place and wasn't about to let his mother spoil it for him. He would give Ann time to adjust to their marriage and his mother before asking her about adopting Ricky. There was no rush. He would be a good father to Ricky no matter what his last name was.

Chapter 13.

"The world grew smaller with the rapid expansion of the railroad. World War I called on the best transportation system there was to facilitate troop movement and war supplies."

Coastline strike Discontent and rumblings of an impending strike among the Shops workers smoldered just below the surface. The union and its members were fed up with poor working conditions. Coastline hadn't spent any money to make the buildings warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer or given them a decent raise in four years.

John Banks, now in his nineties, hadn't visited the Shops since World War II. He was only a figurehead as president of Coastline Railway and seldom left the plush surroundings of his office in the high-rise building bearing his name overlooking the Potomac River in Was.h.i.+ngton, DC. John T. Banks, Jr. had taken over day-to-day operation of the corporation. He'd never been to Bankstowne and had no loyalty to the workers who'd made his father's business so successful. He wanted to streamline the company and bring it into the twentieth century; the Bankstowne Shops were not a part of his modernization plan.

Coastline Railroad was already converting to diesels as fast as General Motors could build them now that they weren't building as many Army trucks and tanks for the military. Once the crown jewel of Banks empire, Bankstowne Repair Shops were obsolete and a financial liability Junior wanted to get rid of. He gave Sam orders to break the strike and refuse all union demands. His success meant a promotion to Corporate Vice President in Was.h.i.+ngton, DC.

Since joining the Daily Journal after graduation, Rick had earned editor Carl Billings' respect as a part-time special a.s.signment reporter.

The final revision of Rick's story on the restoration of the old Center movie theater back to its original appearance as a grand 1800s live stage theater by the Bankstowne Historical a.s.sociation was complete. He covered his typewriter and headed for the typesetting room with clean copy in his hand. He was ready to call it a night when a shadow from behind startled him.

"Got a minute, Rick?" Mr. Billings peaked out his office door. "Step into my office."

"Mr. Billings, I thought you were gone."

"We have a pretty volatile situation on our hands." After Rick joined him in his office, Mr. Billings took a seat behind his desk and sighed. "There's a lot of serious talk about a strike at the Shops. Has your dad mentioned anything about it to you?"

Rick settled into a chair and set the copy on his lap. "That's about all he and Momma talk about these days. There hasn't been a strike in more than twenty years, but I think they mean business this time."

"You've done a great job reporting sports and local events. How would you like to tackle something with some real meat in it?"

Rick straightened in his chair then leaned forward. "I'd love to. I can work it around my cla.s.ses."

"Good. I want you to cover the strike. Can you handle that?"

Mr. Billings was giving him the chance he'd been waiting for. Writing sports was fun, and local events were easy, but he yearned to flex his growing journalistic muscle. Finally getting the chance, he stammered momentarily. "Mr. Billings . . . are you asking me to spy on my father and all the families and friends I've grown up with?"

Mr. Billings gave him a wry grin. "Of course not, son. I want you to be an objective journalist. A reporter covers both sides of the issue, no matter what his personal feelings are. He writes what he knows to be true, not what he thinks the truth should be. Talk to Bankstowne Railway people, the union leaders, and report what they say to the public, that's all."

Billings waited for Rick's response, which didn't come immediately.

"Look," Mr. Billings said, putting both hands on his desk, "if you're serious about being a newspaper man, you'd better start developing a thick skin right now because covering big news stories is tougher than school cafeteria food fights. We don't get many big stories around here and this could really be big."

Rick knew he wanted to be a reporter for a big city paper and this might be his chance to be read by people outside the county.

"Well, do you think you can do it?" Billings asked, tapping his red pencil on the desk.

"Yes sir," Rick answered. "There's a union meeting in the morning. They trust me because my dad has been a strong union member ever since he came here."

"Good. Take this press badge." He opened a drawer, pulled out the badge, and tossed it across the desk. "It should get you in any of the negotiation meetings or let you cross the picket line when the strike comes. Things are quiet right now while they spar to feel each other out. Management hasn't made their final offer yet, but that's when the fireworks will start. I want firsthand information. The strike will make statewide news and be picked up by the a.s.sociated Press. I'm depending on you for Sunday's lead story, Rick."

"I'll do a professional job," Rick said with an eager nod. "You can count on it."

United Railroad Workers vote to strike Coastline Railway Monday By Rick Barnes BANKSTOWNE - United Railway Workers(URW) spokesman Clarence Saunders said Coastline's offer of a five-cent an hour raise was unacceptable. "We have to work in those drafty, damp old buildings with no heat in the winter or cooling fans in the summer. Management refuses to spend any money to improve working conditions and now won't compensate us with a decent wage. Our reward for tolerating those conditions that cause too many sick days is to take away two sick days a year along with a vacation day. That's an insult."