Chapter 14

"Robert," Sammy yelled when he looked up and saw his brother opening the screened door the bread company had brought for him, with their bright red name emblazoned on it of course. "Hey, what a surprise. How are'ya?"

Sammy reached over the counter and gripped his brother's hand, noting his starched white cuffs and high collar. Robert stepped through the counter opening and kissed Jenny's cheek. She smiled at him and went back to putting cans of Libby's tomatoes on the shelf.

"How are you doing with Ma?" he asked her in almost a whisper.

She nodded, eyes down, "Coping, adjusting. It'll take some time."

"What's brings you out here?" Sammy asked. "Out in the sticks?" His brother, Sammy thought, looked like one of those Arrow shirt ads with his silk cravat and sharply creased trousers.

"Come out front, brother. Got a present for you." Robert smiled broadly and beckoned.

Scratching his head, Sammy followed his brother and found that right beside the front steps stood a Model T truck, black of course, with "Williams Store" and "Call Rockville 743" painted on its sides and tailgate in flowing white letters with red shadows and numerous curlicues. The top had been folded back and windshield bent down half way; the leather upholstery gleamed. The wheels had been painted blood red and the skinny tires on their demountable rims looked new.

"It's beautiful," cried Sammy, touching the hot radiator gingerly and running his fingers over the brass-trimmed headlights. "Beautiful."

"It's all yours," Robert said, handing over an envelope. "The title's in your name. It's last year's model you know, has some miles on it. Get in; I'll crank."

Sammy stepped on the running board and slid into the driver's seat, set the controls about half way, checked the brake, and Robert yanked the starter handle. The engine leapt to life, the coils buzzed, and Sammy's older brother opened his door and sat up beside him. "You know how these things work, right?"

"I've ridden in a few. Even had one lie on me for a while." He pushed on the right pedal, released the brake, pulled down on the gas lever and turned the Ford out onto the highway, eased up on the pedal and adjusted the spark as the car picked up speed. Sammy enjoyed both the sound of the puttering engine and the feel of the wind in his face. He turned left into the narrow road to Knowles Station, which most were now calling Kensington, and accelerated up the gradual grade.

The little truck hopped across a hole in the road and moved steadily along, feeling light and nimble. Sammy turned into Garrett Park, backed up smoothly using the middle pedal, and then headed back for the store, his mind wondering what was going on.

He stopped the truck at the side of the store, pulled on the hand brake and flipped the switch. It chugged twice and stopped. "Explain," said Sammy. "I appreciate it; it 's wonderful, solves a problem for me, but explain."

"I need a favor," Robert said. "And I think you can help me. It's a rather big favor. A trade, kind of."

"Go on," Sammy said, inhaling loudly and checking his pockets. He still had on his apron, but his Camels were not in it.

"There's this girl, a very nice girl, very pretty, she's eighteen, nineteen. I'm not sure, young, much too young for me." Robert pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face. "Understand? And she wants me to marry her. Says I've got to marry her, claims I asked her."

"Is she, you know, you got one in the oven?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's, I don't know, infatuation or something. Oh shit," Robert cried, looking away. "She really is such a nice girl, and I have kissed her a few times. But I'm doing well at State, moving up, in line for another promotion, I can't have an eighteen-year-old wife."

"There are places, homes, you know, where she can have her baby if that's the problem and you could pay for it. Someone would adopt it. Or there's abortion I suppose." He made a face at that idea. "What can I do?" Sammy grasped the steering wheel and stared at his brother, his mind in turmoil, curious, excited, wanting to keep the truck.

Robert sighed and shook his head. "It's not that, honest. I was tempted, but I never laid her. Just take her off my hands, come on."

Sammy barked out a sharp laugh. "You want to trade me a girl for a truck, a maybe-pregnant girl for a used truck?" Sammy shook his head and felt some anger.

"She's not pregnant. I never touched her, never bedded her anyway. Honest." He crossed his heart and raised his right hand.

"Horseshit, brother. Tell me the truth."

Robert nodded, offering his brother a cigarette and taking one for himself. Sammy lit both the Caporals with a friction match. He rubbed his fingers over the wooden steering wheel and stared at the outhouse as he inhaled deeply, thinking, considering, amused but trying not to show it.

"What's her name?" Sammy asked with a snort, wondering why he was even asking.

"Polly," said Robert, looking relieved, "Polly Dover. Her family, well, her father's on a senator's staff, important position, a lawyer I think; I haven't met her mother; D.A.R. type probably. They're from Wisconsin, Madison. Lord, Sam, she's still in school, high school, that seminary out in Forest Glen. And I swear I never plugged her."

Sammy looked at the end of his cigarette and shook his head. "I really can't believe you're serious. Besides, Millie's still my love even if she doesn't know it."

"I thought she got married. You know, what's-his-name."

Sammy shook his head. "Called it off at the last minute. Look, I'll see her, see this idiot school girl of yours, talk to her, reason with her, do what I can, but, come on, brother, I can't marry her. That's asking too much. Take the truck back."