Summer of '62 - Softcover

Roth, Rick

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1438911548 ISBN 13: 9781438911540

Publisher: AuthorHouse, 2010

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

SUMMER OF '62

By Rick Roth

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Rick Roth
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-1154-0

Chapter One

The four girls stepped out of the blue, 1955 Ford four-door sedan parked on the narrow brick-paved street. Side by side they climbed the steep, grassy hill toward the sound of "Mony Mony" by Tommy James and The Shondells coming from inside a high, grand, impressive-looking mansion.

"Do you think we'll be leaving the party before midnight?" Linda asked.

"Before dawn maybe," Marsha answered. "Midnight's a little iffy."

"Linda, you're almost eighteen!" Amber said. "You've got to get over this dopey innocence, just stay out all night for once."

"Dopey, that's a good name for her," Holly said.

"Stay out all night, that's impossible," Linda said. "Besides, things are fine just the way they are ... really."

"All right, let's leave her alone," Amber said. "She doesn't know that many people around here yet and she has exceedingly strict parents. Give her time to fit in."

Crossing the vast front lawn studded with mature oak, hickory, and maple trees, Linda paused to admire the spectacular show of lights below them. Lights from cars illuminated the four dark patterns of highway with two lanes leading to Rockport's downtown district and two lanes following the winding Mississippi river to the nearest town a short drive away. Across the river in the distance, lights from homes glimmered softly and colorful lights reflected off the dark water from the boats as they passed by.

"Linda, what are you doing?" asked Amber.

"Nothing, just looking."

"We're not here to see the sights, we're here for the party," said Holly.

"Why are we at this party anyway? Did someone invite us?"

"Of course not, we're crashing," Marsha said. "We're here to drink free beer, eat free food, and have guys tell us how much they want us. Really, the only reason we go to any party."

Linda sighed. "I thought it was to meet new and interesting guys."

"Linda, this isn't Fort Lauderdale," Marsha said. "This is Rockport, Iowa."

The four girls soon split up. Holly and Amber went inside and danced in the spacious front room while Marsha sat on the front lawn among a group of college students circled around a pony keg of beer.

Linda, left alone, wandered about the grounds then was drawn to an altercation involving a cluster of girls in gang-member jackets. When the argument was settled she followed the crowd into the kitchen and leaned against a black refrigerator that matched the black, white, and stainless steel dcor of the room, sipping a drink someone handed her. She watched couples dancing in the next room, looked up at the kitchen clock, finished her drink, and then wandered away from the music, high voices, and laughter to explore the open rooms on each side of a long hallway.

The corridor led to a staircase and a second level which she by-passed to browse the hallway's gallery of oil paintings. A hand-carved hardwood door just to her left suddenly opened and a dark-haired girl in tight black jeans and a black t-shirt emerged from the bathroom. The clothes the girl wore were so unlike her own, the clothes Carla thought a proper Catholic girl would wear to a chaperoned party and not the keg party she found herself in the middle of. But by now Linda stopped caring about what other people thought of her appearance or caring about Carla and the oppressive household she lived in. She peered into the vacant bathroom. The room seemed as large as her bedroom and replete with the most ornate bath fixtures she had ever seen.

The open room to her left was a rust-colored library, and stepping inside she was overwhelmed by its size and the dark wood bookshelves that lined all four walls and reached almost to a lofty ceiling. Not like her bookcases at home, or like the cold public library downtown, this was a warm, comfortable room she felt at home in. The space between the bookcases and the high ceiling, with elaborate gold moldings, was filled with sculptured busts of various authors. High-backed armchairs and a sofa surrounded the fireplace and in front of the sofa was a low coffee table with books stacked upon its high-gloss surface.

The room smelled of oil paintings and old books, more books, she thought, than one could read in a lifetime. Linda reclined on the sofa, and closing her eyes she could see herself, on a cold rainy day, lying on this very sofa with a fire crackling in the fireplace, reading one of the great books of adventure or romance and daydreaming that someday, someone like Heathcliff or Rhett Butler would sweep her away on a romantic adventure, away from her uninspired and unimportant life. A pleasant chime from the library's wall clock brought Linda back to reality and reminded her that it was time to look for a ride home. She found Holly and Amber but they were reluctant to leave, so she left to find her own ride.

Linda stepped outside through a sliding glass door, crossed a wide flagstone patio, and out into the cool night air. The music followed her as she scanned the dark shadows of strangers still arriving and leaving until she recognized someone from the party. She hurried to catch up to him.

Todd Sellers closed the distance between himself and Jackie Sharrod. She was leaving the party early and walking toward a parked car with two of her friends already inside. Jackie was finally alone. The timing was right with the moonlit sky, the invigorating spring night atmosphere, and the scenic view of the river. He had to think of something to say, something no one had ever said to her before. Todd moved closer and was just about to speak when a girl from somewhere behind him called out.

"Excuse me."

He ignored the sound of her voice.

"Excuse me."

Todd stopped and turned around.

Linda jogged up to him. "Are you leaving?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Oh, great. I have this problem. I should be getting home but my ride seems to be passed out on the front lawn, so I was wondering if I might bum a ride home with you."

Todd turned away in time to see Jackie climbing into the front seat of her friend's car. The red Pontiac pulled away. "Where do you live?" he asked.

"The west end, but I could give you some gas money."

"That's ok, I was heading in that direction now anyway. I could drop you off on the way. My car is over there. What's your name? Do you always bum rides from strangers?"

"No, but I have to get home. I'm Linda. Tell me your name and we won't be strangers."

Todd liked the shy way she grinned. "I'm Todd."

He led her to a '57 Chevrolet Bel Air hardtop, its deep, black finish shinning beneath a nearby streetlight. Linda sat shotgun and ran her hand over the new black and white Naugahyde interior as Todd closed her door and walked around the car. She liked the fresh leather smell and the over-sized dice hanging from the rear-view mirror. Driving toward the lights of town she felt a nervous excitement as a 1960 Ford Starliner pulled even with them and revved its engine. Todd, however, remained indifferent, and then became annoyed when the Ford persisted in trying to race him as they drove on the westbound one-way street through Rockport.

Linda watched his face while they passed the downtown streetlights. Who was this guy? "Are you going back to the party?" she said.

"No, I don't care that much for parties."

"Me neither. Where are you going then?"

"Nowhere. Maybe out on the river road. Sometimes at night I like to be out on the highway by myself. It's relaxing and when you're alone you can sometimes have these interesting thoughts and ideas."

"Thoughts? Like what thoughts?"

"They're kind of personal."

"No tell me, I like these things."

"You won't say something like ... like, 'that sounds really strange'?"

"Of course not! I'm sure I won't think they're strange."

Todd eyed her and shrugged. "All right then. One night I was out on the highway and got this idea. Don't you see married couples out all the time and they never seem to be talking to each other or very happy with each other? Now, fast-forward your life: you're married but your marriage is losing its energy, you're drifting, you've stopped talking to each other. So what I would do is get you in my car, just the two of us. It's dark, there's only the white center line and the sound of the engine. There's no distractions, you're going nowhere, and eventually you start talking to each other like you did before, like it should be."

"That's the strangest thing I've ever heard of," Linda said. "But I kind of like it. You know, I've always wondered ... why is marriage so hard? Why is it so impossible to just be happy?"

"It's our destiny. Do you know anyone who's really happy? Maybe for a short time, but no one's really happy with their lives. Maybe it's because of Eve and the apple, I don't know, it's as good a reason as any, but it's just our destiny to suffer, to be unhappy."

"That's stranger than the strangest thing I've ever heard of!" Linda said. "I can't believe that. I wouldn't let myself believe that, but in a way you're right, why is being in love with someone so great and marriage seems so difficult?" She laughed.

"Hey listen, I'm going out on the highway right now," Todd said. "Why don't you come with me?"

"Because it's my destiny to get home on time."

Todd grinned. "It's too nice a night to be by yourself. Besides, it'll give me someone to talk to."

Linda considered. What did she really have to lose? "Okay, but just for awhile."

Todd stopped at a small gas station at the far west end of town. The young attendant filled his gas tank and cleaned the windshield while Todd bought potato chips and two bottles of Coke from the familiar red and white machine standing just to the side of the station's entrance door. They drove west from the lights of Rockport onto a narrow two-lane highway that trailed beside the path of the Mississippi river.

"Would you rather have some beer?" Todd asked. "I could get you some. Do you like beer?"

"It's ok, I like the buzz it gives you."

"Most girls don't like beer."

"I'm not most girls."

They drove in silence, looking through the trees to the cabins built along the river's edge. Most of the cabins were sitting on concrete blocks stacked high enough to keep the rooms above the rising river water during the spring floods.

"It's awkward isn't it?" Todd asked.

"What, this?" Linda asked. "Us?"

"Yeah, because we don't know each other."

"Oh I don't know. Doesn't seem that bad to me. Did you see the fight that almost broke out at the party?"

"No, what happened?"

"There was this circle of girls outside with three girls in the middle, and one of the girls in the center was wearing a Chariot's car club jacket and the other two were telling her that she had to leave, that she didn't belong there."

"Did she leave?"

"She stood there until one of her friends convinced her to leave with her. I kind of felt sorry for her and my fists were clenched. I don't know what I would've done if a fight broke out."

"You don't look like a fighter."

"I'm not, but sometimes you get caught up in things."

"So what do you like to do besides drink beer and fight?"

"I like to run. I like to compete, run races, but mostly I like to run by myself. I like the high you can get sometimes when you're running."

"A high?"

"There's a wall, you run till you feel you can't run any farther. Your legs are gone, and then all of a sudden you cross it. It's a great feeling, a kind of rush, you have all this energy and you feel like you can do any thing. I love it."

"How often do you run?"

"About three miles maybe four times a week."

"That's more running than I'd do in a lifetime."

Linda took the last drink of her Coke then leaned back against the top of the seat and felt the wind move her neck-length blond hair. She could hear the sound of a Rock Island lines train moving through the trees on its way to Rockport, the tracks following the curving path of the river. "I like to get up at daybreak and run," she said. "The air is cool and clean, everything is so fresh, and I like to run toward the east so I can feel the warmth of the sun's first rays of light against my face. You can smell the bacon and pancakes cooking inside the houses as you run by. It's great, I grew to love it, and it's the only time you feel really free and in control of yourself."

"I don't get it, why would someone just start running?"

"In grade school I was this chubby girl with a scar on her cheek just below my eye. You've been trying not to notice it."

"It's really not that noticeable. I mean it doesn't ruin your face or anything."

"Gee, the compliments."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean...."

"It's ok, I'm used to it. There's nothing you could say that would hurt my feelings. When I was little, we were at my aunt and uncle's house and I learned that you never pet a dog while he's eating. I was surprised that my dad wasn't mad at the dog, but the dog was just being a dog, I was the one being stupid. But why did I start running? I remember back in school and being outside and choosing up sides for baseball or being at a dance party and being the last one to be chosen. Have you ever stood in a line and had kids pick around you and pretend that it doesn't matter?"

"Not really."

"I didn't think so. Anyway, before high school I decided I needed a change, a kind of new me. So I started running and lifting weights but I decided to drop the weights ... literally." Linda laughed. "Anyway, enough about me. Tell me what you like to do."

"My dad and I are building a racecar in our garage. He's been in racing for a long time."

"This must be a fast car."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because of the engine sound, and your Sun speedometer reads a hundred and sixty miles per hour. Dose it go that fast?"

"I don't know."

"It's your car and you've never seen how fast it can run?"

"It's not mine. It belongs to a friend of mine and I tuned it up for him this afternoon, so I'm kind of test-driving it while he has my car on a date. But now you've made me curious. Do you want to see what the top-end is?"

"No, I was just kind of wondering."

"There's a straight stretch of highway coming up, we can find out there."

"Are you ready?" Todd asked as he accelerated into a straight line of highway then told Linda to roll up her window while he brought up his. The dim green light of the speedometer showed the needle climbing as he pushed down on the accelerator. Linda braced herself against her seat. The car raced down the centerline of the highway. The scream of the engine started roaring around her. Centerline markers disappeared into a continuous white blur. Trees tore past in a flash of headlights, the speedometer needle climbed past one hundred miles per hour, while Linda's fingers clasped the front edge of the seat. The engine roared, the car shook, and her heart stopped as a yellow and black warning sign swept past her window. She looked at Todd. He backed off the gas and approached the sudden curve in the dark, on-coming lane. Linda closed her eyes and hid her head between her knees. The car's sharp turn threw her hard against the passenger door. She could feel the car losing traction, hear the shotgun sound of loose gravel striking beneath her, and then she was forced back against her seat as Todd raced out of the curve then slowed into a straight line of highway.

"Did we make it?" Her slight voice came from between her knees. Linda took a deep breath and tried to steady her heartbeat. "Todd. I was just wondering, when you were driving on the wrong side of the highway, how did you know no one was coming from the other direction?"

"I'm out here all the time and I know this highway by heart. So, if another car was coming I would have seen its headlights through the trees. You were safe."

"What if he had his lights off?"

"Then we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"I'm sure it's getting late. I should be getting home."

Todd found a gravel road to turn around on then drove back toward Rockport.

Inside the city limits a car drove up beside them and the front seat passenger shouted at Todd through his open window. "The Grim Reapers are in town! Follow us to the Franklin parking lot on Ashland Street. Everyone's going to be there!"

(Continues...)

Excerpted from SUMMER OF '62by Rick Roth Copyright © 2010 by Rick Roth. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Publication date: 2010
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1438911548
• ISBN 13: 9781438911540
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 252