children playing and chasing summer lightning bugs.
Jack turned to Rod before he popped the door locks.
In a serious tone, Jack said, “I have a proposition for you to talk to your mother about tonight.”
Rod, sensing another pitch for moving to Dallas, butted in, “Will you be playing golf again tomorrow?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I will be playing golf, but not tomorrow or at the country club. I have to fly up to Washington, D.C. in a couple of days on business, and I would like you to go with me. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ll square things with Mr. Gardner and pay you to caddy for me at the Congressional Country Club. We’ll do some sightseeing after I take care of business. What do you say? I know your mother doesn’t know me,” Jack quickly added. “I’ll be glad to come in and talk to her if you want me to.”
“No . . . I mean yes I would like to go, but let me handle Momma, she’ll come around, I’m sure,” Rod said, sitting on the edge of his seat.
“Okay, but I need to know tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I get to the clubhouse in the morning,” Rod said over his shoulder as he bounded out of the car to his front door. He was inside before Jack pulled away from the house.
“Momma, Momma,” Rod called, “can I go to Washington, D.C. with Mr. Workman?”
Chapter 4
Before he went to bed that night, Rod convinced his mother, Mary Virginia Miller, that Jack Workman was trustworthy enough for Rod to go to Washington with him for several days.
Two days later, she had packed his only two pairs of worn but neatly pressed jeans and a couple of T-shirts and underwear in his father’s battered cardboard suitcase with the frayed corners. He would wear his Sunday clothes—dark blue dress slacks, white short-sleeve shirt, and freshly polished, black lace-up shoes.
Mary Virginia cleared the lunch plate with its crumbs from Rod’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich. With a worried look she said, “I trust Mr. Workman to take care of you. I want you to listen to him. Do everything he says. You’ve never been to a big city before.” She went to the kitchen cabinet and got down a coffee can that held her savings. “You will need some money.” She tried to hand him five wrinkled one-dollar bills from her sewing jobs.
“No, Momma, he’s going to pay me to caddy for him and all my expenses. I’ll have plenty of money. You keep that. You worked too hard for it.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “My boy is all grown up. Your daddy would be so proud.”
The silver Continental rolled up and Jack honked the horn. Rod’s mother grabbed him and almost squeezed the breath out of him. “Be careful and come home safely to us.”
“I will,” he promised and pulled away from her grip. He hustled out the door and soon disappeared in the cloud of dust kicked up by the Continental. She stood in the doorway waving until they were out of sight. It was the first time he had ever left home, an experience that she knew would be repeated when he went away to college—if he could get a scholarship. But it didn’t make it any easier.
Rod was in awe and a little nervous as he buckled in next to the window in the Boeing 707 jetliner. Being able to see where the wing attached to the aircraft fuselage below his seat gave him a guarded sense of security. He drank several sodas to quench his dry mouth, driven by nerves he tried to hide from Jack. Jack took his comfort in the tiny brown bottles the stewardess served from the cart she pushed up and down the aisle. Rod knew Jack’s reputation for drinking, but trusted him to stay sober while they were together.
The flight seemed long and was a little bumpy. Before their descent into the pitch-black night the pilot turned on the seatbelt light. Rod was glued to his window when the plane banked to circle Washington National Airport for its approach. The pilot called their attention to the white marble monuments, the
Jack turned to Rod before he popped the door locks.
In a serious tone, Jack said, “I have a proposition for you to talk to your mother about tonight.”
Rod, sensing another pitch for moving to Dallas, butted in, “Will you be playing golf again tomorrow?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I will be playing golf, but not tomorrow or at the country club. I have to fly up to Washington, D.C. in a couple of days on business, and I would like you to go with me. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ll square things with Mr. Gardner and pay you to caddy for me at the Congressional Country Club. We’ll do some sightseeing after I take care of business. What do you say? I know your mother doesn’t know me,” Jack quickly added. “I’ll be glad to come in and talk to her if you want me to.”
“No . . . I mean yes I would like to go, but let me handle Momma, she’ll come around, I’m sure,” Rod said, sitting on the edge of his seat.
“Okay, but I need to know tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I get to the clubhouse in the morning,” Rod said over his shoulder as he bounded out of the car to his front door. He was inside before Jack pulled away from the house.
“Momma, Momma,” Rod called, “can I go to Washington, D.C. with Mr. Workman?”
Chapter 4
Before he went to bed that night, Rod convinced his mother, Mary Virginia Miller, that Jack Workman was trustworthy enough for Rod to go to Washington with him for several days.
Two days later, she had packed his only two pairs of worn but neatly pressed jeans and a couple of T-shirts and underwear in his father’s battered cardboard suitcase with the frayed corners. He would wear his Sunday clothes—dark blue dress slacks, white short-sleeve shirt, and freshly polished, black lace-up shoes.
Mary Virginia cleared the lunch plate with its crumbs from Rod’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich. With a worried look she said, “I trust Mr. Workman to take care of you. I want you to listen to him. Do everything he says. You’ve never been to a big city before.” She went to the kitchen cabinet and got down a coffee can that held her savings. “You will need some money.” She tried to hand him five wrinkled one-dollar bills from her sewing jobs.
“No, Momma, he’s going to pay me to caddy for him and all my expenses. I’ll have plenty of money. You keep that. You worked too hard for it.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “My boy is all grown up. Your daddy would be so proud.”
The silver Continental rolled up and Jack honked the horn. Rod’s mother grabbed him and almost squeezed the breath out of him. “Be careful and come home safely to us.”
“I will,” he promised and pulled away from her grip. He hustled out the door and soon disappeared in the cloud of dust kicked up by the Continental. She stood in the doorway waving until they were out of sight. It was the first time he had ever left home, an experience that she knew would be repeated when he went away to college—if he could get a scholarship. But it didn’t make it any easier.
Rod was in awe and a little nervous as he buckled in next to the window in the Boeing 707 jetliner. Being able to see where the wing attached to the aircraft fuselage below his seat gave him a guarded sense of security. He drank several sodas to quench his dry mouth, driven by nerves he tried to hide from Jack. Jack took his comfort in the tiny brown bottles the stewardess served from the cart she pushed up and down the aisle. Rod knew Jack’s reputation for drinking, but trusted him to stay sober while they were together.
The flight seemed long and was a little bumpy. Before their descent into the pitch-black night the pilot turned on the seatbelt light. Rod was glued to his window when the plane banked to circle Washington National Airport for its approach. The pilot called their attention to the white marble monuments, the