Chapter 6

Vermont is the only state in New England without any coastline. Before becoming the 14

th state, Vermont was an independent country. The Von Trapp Family settled there after escaping Austria at the beginning of WWII. Rudyard Kipling lived there. It has a LOT of maple trees. And it’s boring as hell to drive there.

We left Buffalo and got to Syracuse before stopping for the night. We did the standard truck stop shower and food, then settled in for a night of snuggles and kisses to take us to dreamland. Pat was a perfect gentleman. Meaning, as much as I might have welcomed a bit more than what was happening as I lay there with him, he didn’t push things. It was both a relief and a frustration that I knew that I would have to think seriously about, fairly soon. Truth be told, I was starting to fall in love with him. And in the back of my mind, I was still remembering that he was 9 years older and Melody had told me that his heart had been previously taken advantage of by other girls. How he felt about me, I wasn’t sure. I had some ideas, but we both knew that our time together had a firm expiration date.

It would kill me if I was put in a position that would hurt him again.

“So I want to make sure I understand,” the miles passed, rolling past the window as the big red truck cruised along. “We’re picking up a load of Christmas Trees? It’s not even July yet!”

“Correct. We are supposed to pick up 500 trees and transport them to a place in Pennsylvania. Why they can’t grow their own damned trees there, I have no idea. But, this is the job, so we do it.”

“Can we even fit that many trees back there?”

“No idea. Not my monkey, not my circus. They call, we haul.”

We got to the tree farm in mid afternoon. We pulled around to the loading area and the trailer would be filled during the night so we could leave the next day. The actual town wasn’t much to speak of, but there was a decent motel for us to sleep in and there was a diner just a few blocks down from there. We were told that someone from the tree farm would pick us up around 9:30 the following morning.

“I think one of the mechanics was looking at you with real interest,” Pat smirked. “He might have been thinking romance!”

“Oh? Which one? The mouth-breather? The knuckle-dragger? Or maybe the guy with half a can of dip drooling out of his mouth? Dear God, spare me!” We laughed as we walked, hand in hand, to the diner. I was getting tired of burgers, so I decided to be brave and ordered pork chops and mixed veggies. To my delight, the food was delicious! He ended up with a BLT and a side of coleslaw.

We didn’t want to go right back to the motel room after we finished, so we strolled around the common fixture of many small towns. The Town Square. It was a small park area with grass and benches to sit on. Kids ran around in the twilight, playing tag. The ‘safe base’ was a cluster of cannons in a small grouping in front of a statue of what I was told was a Colonial Minute Man and memorial for the members of the community who had gone off to serve and never returned.

We sat, holding hands, and I put my head down on his shoulder. “Pat? I’m confused. We are taking these jobs to go here and there, and even back-tracking at times. This is not what I would expect a trucking and transport business to do. How does it stay profitable? This is crazy!”

“It’s not profitable,” he grinned. “Not even close. In fact, the company is supposed to operate at a loss.” Now I was really confused. “Okay, so a few years ago, several of us, on a lark, each kicked in $5 for a lottery pool. Surprise! We had the one ticket for a $67 million jackpot. Half the guys took their share of the winnings and headed off to greener pastures. The other three fellows? We formed a company that our finance people said that if we could come up with an idea to lose money, legally, we would actually get to keep more of our winnings, in the long run, after taxes.”

“So...?”

“So we formed this rinky-dink trucking company. Me, Clyde, and a fellow named Jeff who is based in Oregon, where he grew up.”

“Damn, and here I was, always wondering if the credit card you used to buy fuel would be declined and we are stuck.”

He stood, pulling me to my feet. Taking my hand, he softly kissed it. “You’re the first person, outside of family, I have ever told this to.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

We went to the motel and settled down for the night. Once again, the queen sized bed was a luxury to be savored. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered how I would ever manage to sleep alone again once the summer ended and I was home, no longer feeling his arms around me.

Christmas Trees. In your mind, you imagine tall, full, lush trees, with branches ready to hold lights, ornaments, tinsel and gifts. These were the scrawniest, most pathetic excuses for trees that I had ever seen. Think ‘Charlie Brown’ and you get the idea.

Standing between 24” and 36” each, with a root ball wrapped in burlap, they were secured five each to a pallet, and loaded into the back of the trailer. The entire load maybe filled two-thirds of the trailer space available. Our goal was to get them to their destination in central Pennsylvania to be taken off and replanted on a second tree farm for a few years until they were large enough to go to a home for the holidays. It did smell nice in there, however.

We reached our destination on Thursday, the first of July. Yet another small town that was the heart of Americana. Everywhere I looked, I saw hardworking, honest people who seemed to be satisfied with their life. Most folks greeted me with a smile and “Good afternoon, Miss Melody!” A few even asked if we were married and I just smiled, not wanting to say anything. Pat grinned.

The mythical Clyde said he didn’t have anything set up for us yet. By now Pat would have me listening in on the conversations, if possible. I joked and told him to say hello to Bosley and the Angels, since it was like that old TV show, Charley’s Angels, where all the business was conducted over the phone with a mysterious person running things.

“If you folks don’t have any plans, Saturday is our big Independence Day Celebration. You’re more than welcome to join us.” This came from one of the secretaries at the tree farm. We were told when and where to show up, what to expect, and be ready for fun. It would be a traditional day of food, speeches, food, music, food, games and food. After the sun started to set there would be fireworks. Oh, and did I mention the food?

We got to the town square where everything was happening, just before noon. Pat got wrangled into helping to set up a few last minute activity stalls and I found myself setting out rows and rows of paper plates, plastic cutlery and other items for when people started to eat. The previous night, Pat and I came up with enough of a background story that would satisfy curious people.

“Melody? How do you know Patrick?” He is a friend of the family. “Oh how sweet! Are you dating?” We’re still trying to decide! (This was said with a giggle that got me some knowing smirks.) “So you are just driving around together all summer?” Yes. “Is that legal?” The owner is okay with it, so long as I don’t do anything to delay the deliveries. “What’s it like being with him 24 hours a day like that?” Absolutely wonderful!

A short time later, we were called to hear a few speeches from the mayor and a few other people. A minister led the community in prayers that our nation remain safe and strong, and then the high school band played the national anthem. I looked around, and like myself, every person there was standing, hand over heart, singing the words penned by Francis Scott Key.

O! say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming:
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming,
And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
O! say, does that Star-spangled Banner yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Tears were flowing from many eyes.

So, did I mention the food? Over the years, I have been to some serious cookouts and gatherings. These folks know what they are doing! Besides the standard burgers and weenies, there was pulled pork/BBQ, steak kabobs, fried chicken, turkey, and wraps. Sides? WOW! We had corn on the cob, baked beans, a lot of salads, cold pasta and half a dozen types of slaw.

And row upon row of baked goods. Cakes, pies, cookies and turnovers and muffins. Just looking at it all, I could feel myself gaining a few pounds.

I was nibbling on a Chicken Caesar wrap, and Pat was doing some serious damage to a turkey leg, when we were approached.

“Patrick? Melody? We would like your help if possible.” This from one of the activity coordinators. We were curious. “So, there is a baking contest every year and we need a few people to act as impartial judges. It’s a serious competition and we don’t want anyone to think that the judges are playing favorites.”

I looked over at the dozens of baked goods that were set aside for the contest and realized I might need to buy larger jeans before the weekend was over.

“Okay, I can help. If there is chocolate involved, that will be perfect!”