A Glibertarians Exclusive:  Sweetheart, Part II

Marshalltown, Iowa, July 1933

Saturday afternoon, and once again Paul found his rolling pace taking him – slowly – to the billiard parlor.  He planned a late lunch, of course, and probably a beer or two (Praise be to President Roosevelt, Paul reminded himself, ‘cause 3.2 hosspiss is better than no beer at all), but mostly, he was going to see Maggie.

As usual, the same two men were seated on the parlor’s front step, enjoying the summer sunshine.  “Harry,” Paul greeted them.  “Jack.”

“Hey, Paul,” Harry said.  “You’re a newspaper fella.  Think this here amendment will pass?  Be nice to have a whiskey again – legal, that is.”  He grinned.

“I think it will.  People are gonna have their booze, no two ways about it.  Prohibition just made it go underground.  Gave people like Al Capone and Joe Kennedy a chance to make a fortune.”

“Reckon you’re right,” Jack said.  “Hope so, anyway.”

Paul nodded and went inside.  Maggie called to him from behind the bar, a wide smile on her face.  “Hi there, Paul.  Was wondering if you’d be in today.”

“Same as most Saturdays,” Paul smiled.  He took a seat at the bar.  “I’ll have a beer.  What’s the special today?”

“Pork tenderloin sandwich, and potato salad.”

“Sounds good.”

Maggie smiled at him again and went to call his order back to the kitchen.

Paul sat quietly for a while, listening to the click-click of the billiard balls, and the murmured conversation around the inevitable poker game at the back table.  He thought about getting in the game for a while but shook his head.  He had other things on his mind today.

Finally, Maggie had a moment with no one demanding her attention.  She walked back behind the bar, lit a cigarette, and smiled at Paul.

“Say, Maggie,” Paul said, suddenly a little nervous.  Shit, I faced German machine guns.  Don’t know why this should give me the sweats, but it does.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering… Well, I got an automobile.  Ain’t much, just an ’18 Hudson, but it’s comfortable enough.  Was wondering, since tomorrow’s Sunday and all, if you’d like to go for a ride with me.  Maybe a picnic?  I know a nice spot, just south of Grundy Center, a little park with a crick running through it.  Pretty place.”

Maggie’s smile faded a little.  “Grundy Center,” she said.  “That’s up towards Waterloo, isn’t it?”

“Not so much.  Good, oh, forty miles away.”

Maggie took a long pull on her cigarette.  Her smile came back.  “That ought to be all right, then.  Sure.  I’d like that.  Can you pick me up, oh, ten o’clock?”

“I can do that.”

“Here,” Maggie said.  She guddled around under the bar, came up with a note pad, and wrote on it.  “Here’s where I’m staying.  And since you’re driving at all, you’ll let me bring the lunch, is that all right?”

“Better than all right,” Paul grinned.  “My cooking ain’t nothing to write home about.”

Just then a bell sounded.  The cook shouted: “Maggie!  Order up!”

Maggie got Pauls’ pork sandwich and potato salad, set them in front of him.  “Ask you something?”

“Sure,” Paul said.

“You ain’t asked a girl out in a while, have you?  Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you did, but a fella your age usually isn’t nervous about it, and, well, I noticed, is all.”

“Well, yeah,” Paul admitted.  “See, when I finally got back from France, from the war, well, there was a gal I’d been seeing before I left.”  Red hair, like you.  Nice smile, like you.  But… 

“Ended bad?” Maggie guessed.

“You might say that.  See, when I got back…  Well, you’ve noticed the cane, right?”

“I knew you were Over There.  Figured you got hurt some kind of way.”

Paul tapped his left leg with a big fist.  The leg didn’t sound like flesh, more like furniture.  “Stopped a German bullet with my leg.  Smashed the bone.  They took it off above the knee.  Leg’s mostly wood, steel and leather, now.  My gal, I looked her up when I got back, but she wanted a whole man.  Told me so, flat out.  Kind of soured me on the whole thing for a while.”  Fifteen years is a hell of a lot longer than ‘a while.’

“Paul,” Maggie said, “That’s her loss.  A man ain’t just his leg.  That’s just part of who you are, now, and I kind of like who you are.”  She reached out and patted his hand, the first time she had touched him.  “And who knows?  Maybe it’s my gain.”

Paul grinned widely and took a mammoth bite of his sandwich.

Later, walking back to his room, a thought occurred to him.  Why is Maggie spooked about going up by Waterloo?  She sure didn’t act like she wanted to go up that way at all.  Could she be in some kind of trouble up here?  Old boyfriend giving her problems? 

He walked on for a while, slow as always, rolling each stride to lock the knee joint in place.  I suppose if there’s anything to it, I’ll find out in due time.  And if I can help her deal with it, I will.  Be nice, having a gal in my life again.  Not gonna let anyone else mess it up, that’s for sure.

Later that evening, the billiard parlor was empty.  The cook had gone home.  The parlor’s owner, an old German in his seventies, came in to count the cash and take it to his house, where he had a stout safe.  “Very good take today,” he said, his accent thick as sausage.  “Ve t’ink, Greta and I, we make good hire with you.  Customers like you.  Men like you.  And me…  War over fifteen years, Germans still not popular around here.  I been here since 1880, people know me, but still, German.  Better you be tending bar than me.  Anyway.”  He winked.  “Glad you came along.”

“Thank you, Mr. Schmidt,” Maggie said.  She smiled.  The complement gave her a warm feeling.  “If you don’t need my help with anything, I’ll be going on home.”

“Jah,” Schmidt nodded.  “Just fine.  You go on home.  Have a nice Sunday tomorrow.  See you, two o’clock Monday, jah?”

“I’ll be here.”

She walked back to her tiny, rented cottage, through the quiet evening.  Tomorrow should be fun, she thought as she walked.  Paul’s such a nice man.  Town knows him.  Steady job doesn’t hurt.

But I must stay away from Waterloo.  I can’t let him find me.  I should have gone farther away, but I don’t know how I could have.  Maybe got to Des Moines?  But he has people in Des Moines.  Cedar Rapids?  Does he have anyone in Cedar Rapids?  I just don’t know.

She picked up her pace out of nervousness.  Her two-inch heels tapped out a defiant signal on the sidewalk.  I hope I’m not dragging Paul into this mess.  Please, God, just let me live in peace.  Maybe I can make a life here.  Maybe with Paul.  He’s a good man. 

Please let me not get dragged back into all that.  Please, please don’t let Grandfather find out where I am.  He wouldn’t think it’s good enough.  I don’t want to disappear again.  Marshalltown ain’t much, but it’s good.  I’m good here.  I want to stay.

***

You know, I once knew a woman who looked like you.

She wanted a whole man, not just a half.

She used to call me sweet daddy when I was only a child.

You kind of remind me of her when you laugh.

In order to deal in this game, got to make the queen disappear.

It’s done with a flick of the wrist.

What’s a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?