| General Fiction posted April 22, 2024 | Chapters: |
...13 14 -15- 16... 
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Sometimes more than one day at a time
A chapter in the book Right in the Eye
Right in the Eye, ch 15
by Wayne Fowler
In the last part Slim and Mary met Ben’s son, Benjamin Paul, who preached his last sermon at age 81 and prayed for Slim and Mary. At this point, Ben Paul leads.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
From Santa Rosa, Ben took a Greyhound bus to San Francisco, shading his eyes against a morning sun in order to see San Quentin as they crossed the Golden Gate bridg. He was a bit surprised that it was still in operation all these years since his father’s escape. Ben had to wait a few hours, but Greyhound had an express that would take him all the way to Denver. From Denver, another Greyhound would deliver him to Walsenburg. A Trailways bus completed his journey to Creede, a hub of his father’s early history.
It was a chilly, May day; but Ben would tour the graveyard and then wait for the taxi driver to return. He wanted to see the Good Man stone. Then he would have plenty of time to check into his reserved room at the Creede Hotel on Main Street and his set meeting time with Sylvia Adams at the hotel restaurant. By the time he’d seen the marker and meditated on what it stood for … what it meant to those who’d erected it, he walked the graveyard out, looking at the names that meant nothing to him. There was one small stone that might have been his father’s Jones, Ben's tormentor-turned-helper: Robert Jones 1836- 1903.
He was glad to see the taxi arrive five minutes early.
Seeing a woman looking across him twice, obviously searching for someone, he stood from the table to walk toward her.
“Ben Persons?” she asked. “I’m sorry, I was looking for Mr. Ben Persons, an older man.”
Ben smiled. He heard often that he didn’t look his age. Lately, it was most often when newer members of his church inquired as to why he would retire before reaching the age for Social Security.
“That’s me. I can show you some ex-rays of 81-year-old joints, if you’d like.”
Sylvia returned his smile and allowed him to guide her to their table. “Hope you don’t mind a table instead of a booth. In a booth I’m either too far away, or too close.”
“I prefer tables myself, actually. Every time I have to sit at a booth I sink so low that I feel like a six-year-old.”
Ben smiled. “Well, I’m Ben Persons, Benjamin Paul Persons.”
“I can see it. I mean, well, I can feel it. My grandmother and I had a very limited conversation the day I asked her about your father’s grave stone, the day she told me that there was no one buried there. She said Ben was tall, and handsome, maybe the most handsome man ever was, even including her husband, my grandfather who we’d just buried.”
Ben didn’t comment on the handsome part. “Well, that’s why I’m here, to learn all I can about my father. He died nine months before my birth.”
Slyvia blushed.
“I’m sorry. I’m a pastor, was, I should be more circumspect. He died before I was born.” Ben smiled.
“Well, it’s odd. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but after the couple who went to see you had come here…”
“Slim and Mary,” Ben supplied.
“Yes. Well, I’m embarrassed because after they left, I did the digging that I should have done before writing my unofficial history of Creede and Mineral County. You know,” she said as if Ben could possibly know, “that Livvy, my grandmother, and her husband Bill moved to Telluride for quite some time. They moved back here when they retired. My mother moved to Los Angeles, California, about the same time. I left California to come back here to help grandma. She was alone after grandpa died. He was over building that Million Dollar Highway from Durango to Silverton. Anyway, all that to say I’ve been here goin’ on twenty years.”
“Married, children?” Ben asked.
Sylvia shook her head. "Moving here got me away from a man that would have done all that. And not a minute too soon. He was an actor, in the movie business … and off the movie business, too, an actor, I mean. Got shut a’ him and never looked back. Or ahead, either, I guess.” Sylvia smiled as if that answered the question. “Okay, I did. Now you.”
“Never married. Married my church, I suppose. Never found anyone I wanted to divide the time with.”
Sylvia’s smile faded.
“Now I’m retired.”
“And alone. Oh, I’m sorry, that was cruel.” Sylvia’s chagrin was real.
“So we are,” Ben replied, smiling.
“This is forward, but we haven’t ordered yet. And to be honest, the food here isn’t all that great.” The last Sylvia said conspiratorially. “Let’s go to my house. I have half a meat loaf left and I can whip up some mashed potatoes real quick.”
Ben stood and extended his hand. He overpaid, leaving a dollar for their waters, and guided her to the door.
+++
Supper finished, the two shared iced tea as they waited to watch the sunset on Sylvia’s south-facing deck. Supper conversation centered on the lovely couple that connected them, Slim and Mary.
“So what did you make of his story?” Sylvia asked. “That he knew your father? He would have had to have been at least a hundred years old. But he didn’t look sixty. Kinda like you. Oops. Sorry.”
Ben smiled. “Eighty-one ...”
“And you have the x-rays to prove it.” Sylvia raised her glass in toast.
“I found them to be quite credible,” Ben said. “But you’re right. There is something else to his story.” Ben paused. “I was thinking about a bus to Cerrillos to find out.” Ben grinned like a youth on an adventure.
Sylvia looked to Ben and then to the sunset. “There’s weirdness all over our stories. You were conceived a minute before your father died, my mother was in the oven when she was kidnapped and rescued by your father, we both met the man that has to be somewhere between a hundred and a hundred and fifty years old, and here you are, looking younger than me and twenty years my senior.”
“Thirteen.”
Sylvia stared at him.
“Your birthday is on your bio page in your book. Slim told me.”
Sylvia nodded her head, smiling.
After a moment, Sylvia asked if Ben wanted more tea.
“I’ll be up at least twice with what I’ve already had. Thank you, though.”
Sylvia blushed, knowing why he would be up at least twice. “Well, like I said. I wrote the book before I properly researched. After Slim and Mary left, I did a search that I’m embarrassed to say I had not already done. I looked in my mother’s big family Bible. It was one that my father got her for Christmas one year. It wasn’t one that you read from every day. And certainly not one you take to church. Mom didn’t ever do anything with it except write their wedding day and my birthday in it. But I again went through Mom’s boxes of odds and ends. This time, I opened that Bible. In between every few pages were writings from my grandmother, sheets of paper.”
Ben perked up in his seat.
“My guess is that she put them in there to keep them preserved and safe. They’re individual sheets of stationary paper. You know, the fancy writing paper you get in a set with envelopes and a real fancy pen? There’s forty-three sheets related to your father. Some are on both sides. There were more, but I took out the ones only having to do with us kids and our father.
“I want to share them with you, but it’s too late to start on them. Would tomorrow be all right?”
Ben’s hand stuttered as if reaching. “Uh, yes, of course. But… yes, certainly.” He wanted desperately to take them to the hotel with him. “My mother wanted me to know as much about my father as possible. Maybe we can meld the stories.”
“I’d like that. Is seven too early?”
Ben looked at her like she was crazy.
“Surely you’re up by that time, and the hotel’s breakfast isn’t any good either. They cook fried eggs finished off in water, like they want to steam them! Come over here at seven and I’ll have coffee and breakfast ready.” Rethinking, Sylvia corrected herself. “No, I’ll come get you. You came in by bus.”
“No, no, no. I’ll walk. I saw the route when we came here from the hotel. The walk will do me good.”
“Keep you young looking,” Sylvia chirped, instantly blushing.
Ben smiled.
In the last part Slim and Mary met Ben’s son, Benjamin Paul, who preached his last sermon at age 81 and prayed for Slim and Mary. At this point, Ben Paul leads.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
From Santa Rosa, Ben took a Greyhound bus to San Francisco, shading his eyes against a morning sun in order to see San Quentin as they crossed the Golden Gate bridg. He was a bit surprised that it was still in operation all these years since his father’s escape. Ben had to wait a few hours, but Greyhound had an express that would take him all the way to Denver. From Denver, another Greyhound would deliver him to Walsenburg. A Trailways bus completed his journey to Creede, a hub of his father’s early history.
It was a chilly, May day; but Ben would tour the graveyard and then wait for the taxi driver to return. He wanted to see the Good Man stone. Then he would have plenty of time to check into his reserved room at the Creede Hotel on Main Street and his set meeting time with Sylvia Adams at the hotel restaurant. By the time he’d seen the marker and meditated on what it stood for … what it meant to those who’d erected it, he walked the graveyard out, looking at the names that meant nothing to him. There was one small stone that might have been his father’s Jones, Ben's tormentor-turned-helper: Robert Jones 1836- 1903.
He was glad to see the taxi arrive five minutes early.
Seeing a woman looking across him twice, obviously searching for someone, he stood from the table to walk toward her.
“Ben Persons?” she asked. “I’m sorry, I was looking for Mr. Ben Persons, an older man.”
Ben smiled. He heard often that he didn’t look his age. Lately, it was most often when newer members of his church inquired as to why he would retire before reaching the age for Social Security.
“That’s me. I can show you some ex-rays of 81-year-old joints, if you’d like.”
Sylvia returned his smile and allowed him to guide her to their table. “Hope you don’t mind a table instead of a booth. In a booth I’m either too far away, or too close.”
“I prefer tables myself, actually. Every time I have to sit at a booth I sink so low that I feel like a six-year-old.”
Ben smiled. “Well, I’m Ben Persons, Benjamin Paul Persons.”
“I can see it. I mean, well, I can feel it. My grandmother and I had a very limited conversation the day I asked her about your father’s grave stone, the day she told me that there was no one buried there. She said Ben was tall, and handsome, maybe the most handsome man ever was, even including her husband, my grandfather who we’d just buried.”
Ben didn’t comment on the handsome part. “Well, that’s why I’m here, to learn all I can about my father. He died nine months before my birth.”
Slyvia blushed.
“I’m sorry. I’m a pastor, was, I should be more circumspect. He died before I was born.” Ben smiled.
“Well, it’s odd. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but after the couple who went to see you had come here…”
“Slim and Mary,” Ben supplied.
“Yes. Well, I’m embarrassed because after they left, I did the digging that I should have done before writing my unofficial history of Creede and Mineral County. You know,” she said as if Ben could possibly know, “that Livvy, my grandmother, and her husband Bill moved to Telluride for quite some time. They moved back here when they retired. My mother moved to Los Angeles, California, about the same time. I left California to come back here to help grandma. She was alone after grandpa died. He was over building that Million Dollar Highway from Durango to Silverton. Anyway, all that to say I’ve been here goin’ on twenty years.”
“Married, children?” Ben asked.
Sylvia shook her head. "Moving here got me away from a man that would have done all that. And not a minute too soon. He was an actor, in the movie business … and off the movie business, too, an actor, I mean. Got shut a’ him and never looked back. Or ahead, either, I guess.” Sylvia smiled as if that answered the question. “Okay, I did. Now you.”
“Never married. Married my church, I suppose. Never found anyone I wanted to divide the time with.”
Sylvia’s smile faded.
“Now I’m retired.”
“And alone. Oh, I’m sorry, that was cruel.” Sylvia’s chagrin was real.
“So we are,” Ben replied, smiling.
“This is forward, but we haven’t ordered yet. And to be honest, the food here isn’t all that great.” The last Sylvia said conspiratorially. “Let’s go to my house. I have half a meat loaf left and I can whip up some mashed potatoes real quick.”
Ben stood and extended his hand. He overpaid, leaving a dollar for their waters, and guided her to the door.
+++
Supper finished, the two shared iced tea as they waited to watch the sunset on Sylvia’s south-facing deck. Supper conversation centered on the lovely couple that connected them, Slim and Mary.
“So what did you make of his story?” Sylvia asked. “That he knew your father? He would have had to have been at least a hundred years old. But he didn’t look sixty. Kinda like you. Oops. Sorry.”
Ben smiled. “Eighty-one ...”
“And you have the x-rays to prove it.” Sylvia raised her glass in toast.
“I found them to be quite credible,” Ben said. “But you’re right. There is something else to his story.” Ben paused. “I was thinking about a bus to Cerrillos to find out.” Ben grinned like a youth on an adventure.
Sylvia looked to Ben and then to the sunset. “There’s weirdness all over our stories. You were conceived a minute before your father died, my mother was in the oven when she was kidnapped and rescued by your father, we both met the man that has to be somewhere between a hundred and a hundred and fifty years old, and here you are, looking younger than me and twenty years my senior.”
“Thirteen.”
Sylvia stared at him.
“Your birthday is on your bio page in your book. Slim told me.”
Sylvia nodded her head, smiling.
After a moment, Sylvia asked if Ben wanted more tea.
“I’ll be up at least twice with what I’ve already had. Thank you, though.”
Sylvia blushed, knowing why he would be up at least twice. “Well, like I said. I wrote the book before I properly researched. After Slim and Mary left, I did a search that I’m embarrassed to say I had not already done. I looked in my mother’s big family Bible. It was one that my father got her for Christmas one year. It wasn’t one that you read from every day. And certainly not one you take to church. Mom didn’t ever do anything with it except write their wedding day and my birthday in it. But I again went through Mom’s boxes of odds and ends. This time, I opened that Bible. In between every few pages were writings from my grandmother, sheets of paper.”
Ben perked up in his seat.
“My guess is that she put them in there to keep them preserved and safe. They’re individual sheets of stationary paper. You know, the fancy writing paper you get in a set with envelopes and a real fancy pen? There’s forty-three sheets related to your father. Some are on both sides. There were more, but I took out the ones only having to do with us kids and our father.
“I want to share them with you, but it’s too late to start on them. Would tomorrow be all right?”
Ben’s hand stuttered as if reaching. “Uh, yes, of course. But… yes, certainly.” He wanted desperately to take them to the hotel with him. “My mother wanted me to know as much about my father as possible. Maybe we can meld the stories.”
“I’d like that. Is seven too early?”
Ben looked at her like she was crazy.
“Surely you’re up by that time, and the hotel’s breakfast isn’t any good either. They cook fried eggs finished off in water, like they want to steam them! Come over here at seven and I’ll have coffee and breakfast ready.” Rethinking, Sylvia corrected herself. “No, I’ll come get you. You came in by bus.”
“No, no, no. I’ll walk. I saw the route when we came here from the hotel. The walk will do me good.”
“Keep you young looking,” Sylvia chirped, instantly blushing.
Ben smiled.
Ben P. Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons
Sylvia Adams: grand-daughter of Livvy and William Ferlonson
Martha Crawley: Livvy's daughter, Sylvia's mother
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Diddleknopper: Slim's wife, great granddaughter of LouAnne (Slim's girlfriend from the1870s)
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Sylvia Adams: grand-daughter of Livvy and William Ferlonson
Martha Crawley: Livvy's daughter, Sylvia's mother
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Diddleknopper: Slim's wife, great granddaughter of LouAnne (Slim's girlfriend from the1870s)
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