From the Relief Society Magazine, February 1951 –

We’ll Always Remember

Inez B. Bagnell

Dinner was over and the dishes were still on the table. Just for a moment Sue stepped onto the porch and sat on the steps breathing in the fragrantly cool evening air. Neil came through the kitchen door, a tall slim figure whose shoulders were square and straight, in spite of the hours he spent bent over a desk.

He dropped down by her, his hand resting quietly on hers, while a stray breeze lifted a lock of his unruly blonde hair. His face was relaxed, temporarily free of the little creases that were lately becoming a part of his face.

He turned and smiled good-naturedly at her, his face and voice full of contentment. “I like this rambling old place of ours. I even like the nice people who live here.”

“It’s a wonderful place,” Sue said. “So much room.”

“Those boys of ours need a lot of room. They cover the territory, don’t they?” Neil chuckled.

If it could just last, Sue thought. If they could just spend one precious hour, or half hour, in complete relaxation. But already his restless blue eyes were studying the expanse of green lawn.

“The boys didn’t do such a good job of mowing the lawn today,” he said.

“No,” Sue answered. “I guess they were in too big a hurry. Neil, aren’t the roses lovely?”

“I’ll say they are.” But his pensive eyes had left the roses, finding the weeds, all the small imperfect places in the garden. The frown creased his forehead again, and his eyes became preoccupied, shutting out Sue and the loveliness of the evening.

“Someday I’m going to make enough money so that we can hire a gardener. You and the boys won’t have to grovel in the dirt to keep things nice. Someday, I’m going to give you everything.”

“Neil, dear, we like to do it,” Sue protested.

“It’s nice of you to say it, anyway.” He rose and started for the door. “Well, I’d better get busy. Sitting here won’t accomplish anything.”

He stopped with one hand on the screen just as three shouting boys came running around the corner of the house. Gerald, the tall gangling one, carried a baseball. Tim, a smaller edition of Neil, had the bat. Cory, the freckled four-year-old, was the last one to come running around the corner on short legs that never seemed to go fast enough to get him there as quickly as the other two.

“Hey, Dad, come and play flies and rollers with us,” Gerald invited.

“Yeah, Dad,” Tim put it hopefully, “come and show us how you used to throw those curves when you played with the Cubs.”

Neil hesitated. “Sorry, boys, I’d like to, but I can’t. I’ve a ton of work to do.”

“Ah, that’s what you always say,” Gerald pouted. “You haven’t played with us for a long time.”

Cory jumped up on the porch and fastened both arms around one of Neil’s legs, pulling and tugging at him. For a moment Neil wavered, undecided, then he picked Cory up in his arms, kissed him soundly, and set him firmly on the ground a few feet in front of him.

“Go on, boys, and have yourselves a good all game,” he said. “I’ll play with you some other time.” He went into the house, the screen banging decisively behind him.

For a moment the boys stood in a small disappointed cluster. Then they straggled on around the corner of the house.

“Oh, well, I knew he wouldn’t, anyway,” Gerald said. “He’s always too busy.”

Watching them go, Sue was seized b an impulse. I’ll play with them, she thought. I’ll bet I could still knock a pretty wicked one. After all, she was still young and pliant, without an ounce of extra padding to slow her down.

Then her eyes caught sight of the belated dishes gleaming through the window. It was a curious thing, she thought, that a table which looked so attractive and appetizing before dinner could, by the passing of a few short minutes, be rendered so untidy and distasteful in appearance. She went into the house.

Dishes done, she idled into the homey living room. Neil was at the small cluttered desk in the corner, utterly engrossed, figuring, drawing lines with a ruler, turning the paper this way and that. Sue gave one wistful look toward the piano in the corner, then picked up her darning bo and started on the stockings.

As she darned she was very conscious of Neil’s bent head, his absorbed expression. I wish I could understand more of what he’s trying to do, she thought. It looked so complicated, all those figures and lines that a draftsman used.

He was so determined, she thought, to make her and the boys happy by giving them all the worldly possessions he could accumulate for them. His ambition was a driving force that gave him no rest, leaving hi so little time for the family which hung on his every word, loving the precious moments he gave them, hungering for more of him.

Sue thought of all the things they missed – the times she and the boys went alone to church and to the movies, the family picnics they hadn’t had, the silent piano, the unshared thoughts, the house she tried to keep so quiet so that Neil could work. She knew that it wasn’t worth it. No amount of fancy clothes, cars, or furniture could make it worth it. An uncontrollable desire to tell him, to make him understand, swept over her, and she fought with it. She had tried before and failed.

Neil looked up. “Hello,” he said softly. He came over to her, a disturbed look on his face. He seemed to read her thoughts, and his lips were warm on hers. “Someday,” he said, “I’m going to make it all up to you. Someday, Sue, I’m going to give you everything.”

Sue sighed helplessly as he went back to the desk.

A few days later when Neil came home from work Sue knew the moment she looked at him that some-
thing wonderful had happened. He was like a small jubilant boy, struggling as long as he could, to hold back a surprise.

“How did everything go today?” she asked innocently.

“Oh, so, so,” Neil smirked maddeningly.

At last, when it seemed that he was never going to tell her, he came around behind her and put his hands over her eyes. “Shut them tight. Don’t open till I tell you to. Now, open easy.”

In front of her face was a long yellow check. “Pay to the order of Neil Patterson,” she read breathlessly, “five hundred and no one hundredths dollars.”

She whirled around. “What’s this all about? Explain yourself, Neil Patterson. Don’t keep me in the dark.”

Neil grinned proudly. “That, my dear, is a small remuneration for an idea I had for cutting down expenses on the assembly line. A token of gratitude from my employers, you might say. And that was just one small idea. There’s plenty more where that came from.” He tapped his forehead.

“Who’d have thought it?” Sue scoffed. “Who’d have dreamed there was anything besides sawdust in that old blonde head.” She ruffled his hair till it stood on end.

Neil’s face became very serious. “What do you think we ought to do with it? There are so many things we ought to do that I don’t know where to start. Of course, five hundred dollars doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s entirely extra it’s quite a bit. Sue, this money represents sort of a milestone to me, a symbol. I’d like to use it for something very special that would make the whole family happy, something that we will always remember. What do you think?”

“That sounds wonderful. But right quickly I can’t say what we want most.”

“What are some of the things we’ve been wanting so badly? Bicycles and electric trains for the kids, and a play room. A movie camera for the family, and you need clothes and something nice for the house to make things easier for you. And we’ve been wanting a trip. Sure,” he said ruefully, “it should have been something like five thousand instead of five hundred.”

“Well, if you want to start figuring that way I dare say the five thousand wouldn’t amount to much either. Personally, I think five hundred dollars is a lot of money, and we should appreciate having it.”

“Okay, Susie, I guess I deserved that little lecture. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Let’s find out what the boys would like most of all to do with it, and do it.”

The boys didn’t find it any easier to decide in a hurry than had Neil and Sue.

“Do you mean we can do anything we want to?” Gerald asked.

“Well, not exactly anything, but as near as we can on five hundred dollars.”

“I’ll have to think,” said Gerald.

“Is five hundred dollars a lot of money?” Tim asked.

“How much money is five hundred dollars?” Cory wanted to know. “Would it buy a new baseball bat? We’ve cracked ours.”

Neil and Sue exchanged a helpless glance. “I’ll tell you,” Neil said, “don’t worry about the amount. Just each of you think of the things you would like most to do or have of anything in the whole world. We might go on a trip or buy something we’ve all wanted. Well, anyway, think it over. We’ll get together and decide what we can use it for that will please all of us the most.”

“I know what I’d like,” Gerald offered.

“Let’s not decide so quickly. Let’s give us all time to think it over and be sure. Till tomorrow, anyway.”

“We can make a game of it,” Sue suggested. “You could write your wish down on a piece of paper and we’ll read them all at once.”

“We could all drop them in a box— like valentines,” Tim piped. “Say, Cory, do we still have that old valentine box in the basement?”

There was a regular traffic jam in the doorway leading to the basement as Gerald, Tim, and Cory all tried to be the first one through it to bring up the suddenly important old valentine box.

All next day the boys whispered and planned together. Then there was a spell when they scribbled and erased and asked Sue how to spell words. Then they were quiet, and first thing she knew they were erasing, tearing up, and writing again. Cory worked doggedly over a small piece of paper, bothering the older boys to make letters that he clumsily copied. Cory printed very well for a four-year-old.

By late afternoon it seemed that the boys were at last content with the slips of paper. They dropped them into the box and went out back for a game of ball before dinner.

Sue was setting the table when Neil came in, looking tired and strained. His eyes went immediately to the box, then grinning self-consciously, he bent and peeked through the slot.

“Aren’t we silly?” he laughed.

“Not so silly, I don’t think. After all, it’s something that’s pretty important to all of us.”

“Sue, do you think it would hurt —do you think the kids would mind if we just peeked at them now? After all, I’d like to get an idea whether we can do what they’d like to on five hundred dollars. Sort of prepare myself.”

“I can’t see that it would do any harm. They needn’t know.”

Neil removed the lid from the box and took out three dog-eared pieces of paper. “Come on, let’s go out on the porch where there’s a breeze,” he said.

Gerald’s paper was the largest and had the most writing on it. Neil pressed its folds with loving fingers. “Our oldest son,” he whispered. “His heart’s desire. How I’d love to be able to give it to him.” Then he unfolded it and began to read.

Dear Dad and Mom,

I have decided that more than anything in the world I would like to have Daddy stay home from work and help us build a fireplace out of those old bricks and everybody have a weenie and marshmallow roast. Then sing songs while Mother plays the piano.

Lovingly,

Gerald.

Neil didn’t look up for a while. When he did there was a baffled expression on his face. “Well, that shouldn’t be hard. And it will leave the five hundred practically intact. Well, what do you suppose our son Tim wants?” He unfolded the paper slowly, then sat staring at it, not reading aloud. Sue slid over so she could see.

Please, could we go fishing and Daddy teach me how to catch a big one. With love, Tim. P.S. We could fry chicken.

P.S. number 2. We could eat watermelon.

Neil’s face began working, playing havoc with his features. Cory’s paper hadn’t been folded. It lay face up, its ill-shaped letters strung together in one unbroken line:

I want to go to church with you and not alone.

Neil looked stunned, his face was white. “With you and not alone,” he repeated numbly. “And that’s what they want more than anything.” He sat without moving, staring at nothing in particular. Sue watched him anxiously, her heart reaching out to him as one emotion after another was mirrored in his sensitive face.

“I wouldn’t have believed it. All the things I’ve worked and worried and fretted about, they don’t mean a thing to them, do they?”

“You, and what you do means everything to them,” Sue said carefully. “And to me.”

“But I’ve tried so hard … I thought . . . .” Neil floundered helplessly. “Well, it’s for sure I haven’t sold them my idea that it takes money to make them happy.”

“I’m not so sure that’s really your idea. Neil, if you had written a wish yourself what would you have chosen to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Buy you a new coat and an electric dish washer, I guess.”

“But, don’t you see, that would be for me. You’re supposed to wish for something for yourself.”

His look silenced her. “You should know by now that your joy is my joy,” the look told her plainer than words.

“All right, Sue, while we’re at it, what would you have wished for?”

“I don’t know either, except maybe just to have the money in the bank so you wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen if you missed a day’s work or if any of us got sick.”

He laughed. “Now who’s making a wish for whom?” He took her hand and held it tightly. “Sue, maybe we needed that five hundred dollars to show us just how rich we already are.”

He looked deeply into her eyes and she knew that now he was seeing only her and the richness that was theirs. The roses unshadowed by the weeds. Their life, free from the marring specter of unattained wealth.

He folded the papers and tucked them into his shirt pocket just as three shouting boys came around the house.

“Come and play flies and rollers with us,” Gerald invited.

Neil jumped up. “Come on, Mom.”

“The last one to home plate is a rotten egg,” Tim yelled, and everybody started to run. Cory’s short legs churned desperately. There was an anguished look on his face as the others passed him by. Neil turned, grabbing him up in his arms.

“Come on, Son, we’ll both use my legs.”

Sue panted after them. No star-studded event could ever be better than this, she thought. This was the simple joy that they would always remember, this and rows and rows of moments like it.

The flying feet of her men were leaving her farther behind every second. Well, one of their group had to be the rotten egg, and this time she didn’t mind if it were she. No, this time she didn’t mind at all.