Locomotive to the Past by George Schultz (iphone ebook reader .TXT) 📕

He also had his girl! His fiancée! They would soon set a wedding date! Soon! In addition, he had his job—which, although terribly physically demanding, was paying him more money, than he’d ever known existed! He’d also had his—simply beautiful—apartment! And “Look, Ma… no stupid damn Murphy bed”! Life doesn’t get any better than that!

Further, his former landlady had invited him—and his intended—for a sumptuous dinner, on that Sunday! Meat was already becoming, in short supply. The same applied to sugar and coffee. Rationing—of all manner of things—would soon be an, irreversible, fact of life.

On Saturday, Jason pedaled out to Valerie’s parents’ home—and the happy pair rode, out to the bike track, at Rouge Park. It had been awhile since they’d been there—and, on this particular “magical” Saturday, it was much easier to work up a significant sweat. They were even riding side-by-side. Not much “fanny-watching” going on!

There was one, lonesome—troubling—ingredient brewing! It became the primary imponderable, for Our Hero—as the afternoon was drawing, to a close! That probing question? Well, it came down to intimacy! Pretty basic!

Since he and his fiancée had (some would say “finally”) become intimate, Jason cursed the fact of his inexperience, in such matters. He was unsure as to whether—now that “the egg had been broken”—sex would now be expected to become a permanent, regular, part of their lives! Valerie had said that they would forsake any further sexual “involvement”, after that first—that initial, overwhelmingly-memorable—night, in his apartment! But, that, encased-in-cement, resolution had lasted—until the alarm clock had gone off, the following morning!

What to do? And when? And where—to do it? Or was nothing doing? Would the end of this, so-far-wonderful, day—be guaranteed, to find them in bed? Should it wind up that way? A well-known “puzzlement”!

If so—if it was to be—then, when? Where? His apartment? Where else? Certainly, not at her parents’ home! Whether as detached as they’d always seemed—they would absolutely not go along with their daughter “being taken”, upstairs! Not in her bedroom! Or anywhere else—under their roof!

Adding to his fast-growing—becoming-more-of-a-worry-by-the-moment—befuddlement, was the fact that his apartment was, probably, six or seven miles away. And he and Valerie were, at present, astride bicycles. His nifty Dodge was also six or seven miles away. Would this wondrous lady be expecting him (at any moment) to suggest that they take off—bicycles akimbo—for Ohio Street?

As it turned out, she’d suggested that they’d cycle themselves, up to Grand River. And to a restaurant—that her parents (and she) had frequently patronized, close by that busy avenue and Telegraph Road. That would seem to have permanently scheduled the, non-sexual, activities (or lack of same)—for the rest of the evening. Jason was almost thrilled—to have some apparent answer, to his highly-troubling quandary.

Sunday turned out to be another “interesting” day! What was to have been, simply a nice—more-or-less-introductionary—day, turned out to have run the gamut of emotions!

First of all, Jason picked up Valerie—from her parents’ home—and joined Susan and Eric, at Gate Of Heaven church, in attending 11:30AM Mass. The service was celebrated by Father Roman Benjamin—the fifty-something, rather-portly, silver-haired pastor.

The Atkinsons—over the previous three or four years—had developed a close, a special, relationship, with the priest. They’d had their, sometimes-spectacular, differences—with Father Benjamin’s predecessor. But, they’d had come to be definite friends, with the current pastor. Jason had been introduced to the priest—a week or so into his “residence”, at the wondrous white house, on Sussex. Their paths had crossed—briefly—on more than a couple of occasions, since then.

Since Our Hero’s move, to Ohio Street, he’d wound up, for the most part, attending St. Brigit’s Church, on Schoolcraft—or, at times, he’d traveled to Epiphany Church, on Pinehurst. So, it was a bit of a reunion—when Susan and Eric “tracked down” Father Benjamin, following Mass, on that special Sunday. Their main purpose—was to introduce Valerie, to the pastor, who’d warmly greeted the young lady.

The gathering had lasted three or four minutes—while the good father was headed across St. Marys Street, to the, rather-austere, rectory. The clergyman was genuinely happy—to see Jason again. And to meet his fiancée. He even blessed their coming union. The gesture had come—voluntarily. It appeared to impress Valerie—as much, as it had been most-satisfying, for her groom-to-be.

That groom-to-be was really surprised—when his intended knelt, on the cement sidewalk, to receive the pastoral blessing! He was impressed—mightily—by her unexpected action. He was unable—at that point, anyway—to explain how (or why) he’d been so deeply touched. Moved—to the point of tears! (What else was new?)

By the time it had occurred to him—that he should join Valerie, in the kneel-down position, it had been too late. Surprisingly, the young woman had also been moved to tears. Simply by the fact that this pastor—this obvious Man of God, whom she’d never met—would perform such a stirring, heart-felt, blessing! And—on their first meeting! Especially right there, on the street!

Once the quartet had arrived, at the Atkinson home, Susan set out to “put the finishing touches”—on the sumptuous dinner, that she’d prepared. It meant, mostly, the “heating up” of the, many-and-varied, glorious “vittles”—which she’d, obviously, spent several hours “whomping up”, on Saturday night-into Sunday morning.

As the meal had progressed, the conversation was becoming more and more relaxed—as the host and hostess became more and more familiar, with the bride-to-be.

“I’m so glad to know you, Valerie,” observed Susan. “That goes for Eric too. We just want you to know… that we’re both thrilled. Thrilled as can be . . . that Jason has chosen so well.”

“Meet my mother,” announced Jason—pointing, with a goodly amount of affection, at his former landlady.

“There’s more truth to that,” added Eric, “than you might know! More than you could possibly know.”

The statement startled Jason! What could that . . . possibly mean?

“There’s something I’d like you both to have,” rasped Susan—in a tone that Jason had never heard before.

She got up—abruptly—and, hurriedly, left the table. Her former roomer