6 comments/ 23413 views/ 2 favorites Connecting Rod Ch. 07-08 By: coaster2 Chapter 7: Commitment and Crisis May 19, 1969 The conversation with my mother stuck with me. I knew she was right. It was time to tell Shelly how I felt about her. It was the next morning when I hung back to talk to Mom. Shelly and Jurgen had already left for the garage. "Mom, I need some advice." She turned and looked at me with a knowing smile. "Go ahead." "I ... I want to ask Shelly to ... marry me." "I guessed that," she said, continuing to smile. "You did?" "I think you've picked a fine young woman for a wife, Roddy. I think she'll make you very happy." "Yeah," was all I could manage in my confused state. "So ... what do I do now?" Mom laughed. "Well, to start with, you need a ring. That nice Mr. Fleischer can probably help you. Besides, he's a good customer. We should show our thanks." "Yeah ... a ring. Can you help me pick one out? I don't know what would be right for her." "Of course. Why don't we meet there this afternoon, after lunch?" It was agreed and I left Shelly and Jurgen in charge as I drove to Fleischer's Jewelry Store. Mom was waiting for me, chatting with Emil Fleischer as I walked in. After the usual greetings, the jeweler pulled out two trays of rings and placed them on the counter. I was dazzled by the display. I had no idea how to decide. "Mom ... they all look great. I don't know how I'm going to make my mind up." My mother hadn't looked up from the trays since Emil had placed them on the counter. Without turning to me, she pointed at three different rings and the jeweler took them from their mounts and placed them on a blue velvet cloth. "You have excellent taste, Mrs. Williams. They are very good choices for Miss Dawson," he said. I turned to my mother with a question. "How do you know which ones?" "Rod, it's important that the ring match the person wearing it. These are bigger rings because Shelly has bigger hands. A small dainty ring would get lost on her. Now, which one do you like best?" she asked directly. I looked at the three. One of them stood out because of its simplicity. Three stones, one large and two small in a plain gold setting. "This one," I said, picking it up. My mother smiled and the jeweler nodded. "Very good choice. Simple but elegant. I'm sure she will be very pleased," he said. "Uhhhmmm ... I forgot to ask ... how much?" I asked sheepishly. "Very reasonable. Eight hundred ninety-five dollars. For you, the wedding bands will be half price." The number jolted me. I had no idea what engagement rings cost, but then, my mother had nodded approvingly when he announced the figure, so I assumed it was reasonable. "Now, about the size?" the jeweler asked. Mom produced a tracing from her purse. "This will do, won't it?" "Yes, Mrs. Williams. That will be fine. If it's not right, we'll make it right," he smiled. "Thank you Mr. Fleischer. It's a pleasure doing business with you. Don't forget the appointment for you wife's car next week." "I won't. She won't let me. The squeal of those brakes will remind me all by themselves," he chuckled. As they walked to the car, Mom could see the look of concentration on my face. "What is it?" she asked. "Uhhhmmm ... I was just trying to figure out when to do this." "That's strictly your problem," she laughed. "There are some things a mother can't help you with." I nodded as we drove off toward our home. I would have to give this some thought. The ring would be ready on Friday. Thursday afternoon I stepped out of the office with the next job sheet. I looked about the shop for Shelly but didn't see her. I called out, but there was no answer. "Duke, have you seen Shelly?" "Yeah ...," he said looking around. "She was fitting a gasket in an oil pan a few minutes ago. Maybe she's in the pit." I walked to the steps leading down into the pit and saw Shelly's crumpled form lying motionless at the bottom of the stairs. I was frozen in terror for an instant before yelling, "Duke! Quick ... call an ambulance! Shelly's hurt! Hurry!" I scrambled down the stairs, nearly falling myself when my foot slipped on a slick tread. I reached her side and felt for a pulse. I'd had some first aid training in the army and it came back to me now. She was unconscious, but there was a pulse and she was breathing, although shallowly. I gently picked her up and carefully climbed out of the pit, wary of the slippery step I had encountered. It seemed like hours before the ambulance arrived, but it was less than ten minutes. Duke had yanked the back seat out of the sedan he was working on and used it as a makeshift bed for Shelly. There was some matted blood in her hair above her left ear, but otherwise no sign of bleeding. I was on my knees beside her, holding her hand, willing her to be all right. I could barely suppress the nausea roiling inside me. Jurgen had called my mother and she appeared just as the ambulance arrived. The two attendants checked Shelly over, gingerly lifting her onto a gurney, and placing her inside the waiting vehicle. Mom asked Jurgen and Duke to look after the shop. She would go with me to the hospital and let them know her condition. I could see that the look on the faces of Jurgen and Duke was one of fear. Shelly was part of the family. It was no different than if a sister had been injured. Mom and I sat silently in the waiting room adjacent to the emergency ward. Shelly had been in there over an hour and while we couldn't see her, we watched as both doctors and nurses went behind the curtains to examine her. None of them looked happy. It was over two hours after they had brought Shelly into St. Joseph's Emergency when a solemn looking doctor approached my mother. "Are you Miss Dawson's mother?" he asked. "No ... she has no mother ... or relatives that we know about. She lives with us and works for us. What can you tell us?" "She's had a concussion. Hit her head ... hard it would appear. Fortunately, there are no other major injuries other than some bruising. She's unconscious, but her vitals are stable so far. There's no indication of internal bleeding on the brain, but we can't be sure until we look at the x-rays. Right now, all we can do is wait until she wakes up." "When will that be?" I asked anxiously. He shook his head. "We have no way of knowing. It could be in a few minutes ... or ... hours ... or," he just shook his head again. "Can we see her?" I asked. "Not right now. We want her to rest, let the swelling subside and the head trauma stabilize. It's better if she is unconscious for now. It will give her a chance to heal. Perhaps tomorrow or Saturday," he said shrugging. I sank back in the chair, my hands covering my face. I felt my mother's hand on my arm as I thought about what had happened. I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do and it angered me that I was powerless to help Shelly. I stood slowly, helping mother up. We walked out to the parking lot and drove home, each lost in our own thoughts. Mom phoned Mike and Duke and let them know what the current situation was. Jurgen was by her side as she spoke quietly, relaying the information the doctor had given us. There was nothing to do but wait ... and pray. The meal that night was almost silent, each of us thinking of the frightful consequences of Shelly's fall. I was angry. I had guessed that Shelly had slipped on the same oil or fluid that I had. It was the most likely cause. But how did it get there? Did she spill something? We had been so careful to keep the stairs clean to prevent just such an accident and yet, it had still happened. I walked back to the station that evening, trying to burn off the anger and anxiety stored inside me. I stood and stared at the pit. The offending fluid had long since been cleaned and the pit was clear once again. My anger wouldn't subside. The pit had to go. Suddenly, I recognized the steps were too steep and too shallow. I should have seen that before. How many times had Jurgen, Shelly, and others been up and down those steps? Why didn't I notice? There was a solution, I knew. A hydraulic hoist. It would be safer, certainly. Who cared what it cost. One Shelly was worth ten thousand hoists. Why didn't I do this before? I slumped in my office chair, gutted. I had never experienced anything like this before. Even when my father died. At least I knew it was going to happen. But Shelly! My Shelly! The woman I was going to marry! No! It was dark by the time I summoned the will to go home. I entered the house quietly. My mother and Jurgen were sitting on the sofa together holding hands and facing the television. I flopped down in the easy chair near them. The TV may have been on, but it was doubtful any of us could have identified the program we were supposedly watching. Just after ten, I rose, said goodnight to my mother and Jurgen, and slowly climbed the stairs to my room. As I passed Shelly's room I stopped, looking at the empty bed and the empty room. It was then that it hit me, and tears began to flow. I slowly walked the remaining steps to my room, closed the door quietly behind me and lay down on the bed. This day could not end soon enough. I awoke from a fitful sleep at my usual time on Friday morning, went though my usual morning routine, but without much energy. My mother and Jurgen were already in the kitchen and breakfast was almost ready. I sat quietly in my usual chair, sipping a glass of apple juice. "Mom, Jurgen ... I'm going to get rid of the pit and put in a hydraulic hoist. I can't allow an accident like that to ever happen again." Mom turned from the stove and looked at me silently. She nodded. "I'll call Ted. He'll know what we have to do." "Thanks. Jurgen, I guess you and I will have to divvy up the work sheets to see what needs to be done. When Duke comes in, we can get together and decide how to keep things on schedule." I had spoken in a quiet, almost disinterested voice, but I'm sure Jurgen knew I was far from disinterested. "It will be better today, Rod. I know this. We must carry on as if Shelly will be coming back soon. We can do this," he said with quiet confidence. I looked up at the somber man and managed a smile. "Thanks." Jurgen was right. We could do it. It would take some overtime in the evenings and on Sundays, but we would be able to satisfy all our customers. The question remained however, how long could we keep this up? I went to the hospital just before noon on Friday to check on Shelly's condition. The doctor we talked to yesterday was on duty. Dr. Parker Chamberton was the senior physician on the neurology ward. I had to wait several minutes before I could have a brief talk with him. "Any change in her condition?" I asked, hoping. "None, I'm afraid. She's resting comfortably, but there's no sign of her waking up yet. All we can do is wait and hope she'll come around soon. You should be able to visit her briefly tomorrow afternoon. We've moved her to a room this morning. Don't expect too much. You'll just have to be patient I'm afraid," he said sympathetically. I nodded in understanding, thanked the doctor for his time, and left to return to the station. I returned to the hospital Saturday afternoon exactly at 2:00 pm, when afternoon visiting hours began. I saw Shelly's name on the door of the single-bed room and walked in. She was sleeping peacefully, it seemed. On her back, her hands at her sides, a tube running to her arm from a stand and a bag of clear fluid. Another from under the sheets at her waist into a second bag at the side of the bed appeared to be urine. I found a chair and sat beside her, my fingers touching her hand, stroking it gently. "I'm here, Shelly. I hope you can hear me, babe," I whispered. "I'm not going anywhere 'till you wake up." I was rocking back and forth in the chair without even realizing it. "I've got a surprise for you when you wake up, Shelly. A big surprise. I can't tell you what it is until you're awake though. You have to wake up, girl. You have to or I can't give you your surprise." My eyes never left her face. I was looking for a sign ... any sign ... that she could hear me ... that she understood. There was none. Mom walked quietly into the room as I was talking to Shelly. I'm sure she couldn't hear what I was saying, but maybe she could hear the intensity of my emotions in my voice. She put her hand on my shoulder, but I didn't respond, didn't acknowledge her. I was lost in my own world, talking to my girl, willing her to recognize me. I continued talking to Shelly as if she could hear. I told her what was happening at the station. I told her that they would be replacing the pit with a hoist, and they would do it right away, before she even got back to work. I told her how upset I was that we couldn't go dancing that night as we had planned. I told her how much I wanted to hold her in my arms when we danced. I told her how much I loved her, and would always love her. Mother sat quietly and listened to me pouring my soul out to this helpless girl, trying somehow to revitalize Shelly. I was blaming myself for the accident. I was taking the responsibility for what had happened. Mother and I stayed for the entire two hour visiting period and only left when the duty nurse insisted upon it. We would return in the morning before going to church and again the next afternoon. I hadn't been to church in some time. I had fallen out of the habit when I was in the army and when I returned home, I was too busy to allow myself the luxury of taking the time. But this was different. This time I had a purpose. This time, I wanted help. Help from someone ... God. There wasn't anyone else who could make a difference. We visited the hospital on Sunday morning, but there was no change in Shelly's condition. She didn't seem any different from the previous afternoon. She was exactly in the same position and her face looked exactly the same. We left after forty-five minutes to get to church on time. Word of the accident had spread throughout the community. In the ten months that our family had been in Bellingham, we had become known to our fellow citizens. Me, popular because I had made something happen that brightened the downtown, and Mom, who quietly and with great effectiveness, had taken the trouble to get to know her fellow townsfolk and business people. If Shelly was hurt, the Williamses were hurt. If the Williamses were hurt, the town was hurt. Pastor Calvin Ford gave a special prayer for Shelly at the end of the service. Mom had held my hand throughout the service, squeezing it in surprise as the Reverend spoke the words of comfort. She looked at me and saw the tears streaming down my cheeks. I was in pain and the pain would not go away until Shelly recovered. I pulled myself together as the service ended and Mother and I walked out into the warm noon sunshine. Pastor Ford thanked us for coming and said he would continue to pray for Shelly's recovery. More surprising were the members of the congregation who stepped forward to offer their best wishes. Most of them had never met Shelly, but if she was part of the Williams family, that was all that mattered. The support and sympathy that we received that morning helped to bring me out of my misery. I wasn't alone, I realized. There were a lot of friends and neighbors who were praying for her to get well. As I looked around at the town I had chosen only a year ago, I thought that I had chosen well. This was a very fine place to live. Promptly at two, I arrived at the hospital and went directly to Shelly's ward. She was there, still unconscious, still in exactly the same position as she had been earlier that morning, and the day before, and probably the day before that. I could see no change. I pulled my chair up alongside the bed and began to tell her about the service at the church and all the people who had wished her well. Mom chose not to come with me. She wanted to give me my private time with Shelly. Let me say what I wanted to say without worrying about my mother being there to hear it all. When she arrived at three, I was sitting quietly, my hand gently grasping Shelly's, my eyes never leaving her face. Mom leaned over and kissed my cheek, knowing there was no need to ask if there was any change. She stayed for a half hour, talking quietly with me. She excused herself to return home and begin the Sunday dinner preparations. She had invited Duke and his girlfriend, Shannon, for dinner that evening. The invitation was made before Shelly's accident, but Mom had assured the young man that the invitation still stood. I nodded off briefly after mother left. I hadn't slept well since the accident, the tension and concern over Shelly wearing on me. I didn't immediately sense what was happening, but something woke me. I snapped myself upright and looked around. Shelly was still unconscious, but something had changed. I looked at her hand and saw it immediately. Her hand was moving, twitching. That hadn't happened before. I ran out of the room and down the hall to the nursing station. "Nurse, quickly, Shelly is moving. Her hand is moving." "Who are you talking about?" the confused woman asked. "Shelly Dawson ... she's in 14 B. She's been unconscious ... but her hand is moving." The nurse picked up the phone: "Dr. Thorson, please call 410 ... Dr. Thorson, 410." She replaced the phone. "The duty doctor will be along." "What about Dr. Chamberton?" "He's not on duty today. It's Sunday. Even doctors have a day off," she said sternly. I was about to say something in retort when the nursing station phone rang. The nurse picked it up and said a few muffled words before hanging up. "Dr. Thorson will be along when he's finished his rounds," she said. "When will that be?" I asked, now beginning to lose my patience. She looked up at the clock. "Twenty minutes or so. Depends." I began to pace. It didn't seem to be important to them that someone looked at Shelly. But I knew if I caused a fuss, they would likely call someone to kick me out and that wouldn't help either. I bit my tongue, giving the sour nurse a look of disgust and began walking back to Shelly's room. When I got back to her bedside, I noticed her arm was now across her hip. She had moved it. And her head had moved to one side slightly. Something was happening. Was she beginning to wake up? I tried to get a grip on my emotions. I was excited and yet fearful. What could I do? Talk to her? Of course. Talk to her. Maybe now she could hear me. "Shelly ... Shelly ... it's me ... Rod. Can you hear me, Shelly?" I began softly. "Can you hear me, Shelly? You moved a bit, Shelly. You moved your arm and your head. Did you know that? Shelly? You moved. That's a good thing, girl. That means you're going to be OK. Can you hear me, Shelly?" I was almost begging her to respond. I looked at my watch. How long before the doctor arrives? I realized I was a bundle of nerves. I willed myself to relax. "Sit back and relax. Wait for the doctor. Close your eyes, breathe deeply ... and relax," I told myself. "Roddy ..." came the faint voice. "Wake up, Roddy." At first I thought it was a dream. I opened my eyes slowly and turned to Shelly. She was looking at me. Her eyes were open and she was looking at me. I leaped from the chair. "Shelly! Oh god, Shelly, you're awake. Thank god." I leaned in and kissed her gently. "Where am I?" she asked in a weak voice. "St. Joe's. You had an accident," I managed in a strangled croak. "An accident? What happened?" she asked, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "You fell in the pit. You hit your head and you were knocked out." "I don't remember that. I don't remember anything." "Relax ... rest. Don't worry about it. It's nothing you want to remember anyway," I smiled. I was breathing again. For the first time in days, I was alive. Shelly was awake and talking to me. She was going to be OK. Connecting Rod Ch. 07-08 I looked up as a very young-looking doctor walked briskly into the room. "Well, look who's awake and smiling," he said cheerfully. I stepped away as the doctor moved in to examine her. He shone a penlight into each eye as he looked carefully at the reaction of her pupils. "How are you feeling?" "Awful. Headache. My eyes hurt. My butt is sore and my back hurts. That's it, I think," she said, now speaking more clearly. "Well, you had a bad fall and a nasty crack on the head. I'm not surprised about the headache. The other stuff is bruising from the fall. Maybe some muscle strain as well. Maybe you can get your husband to give you a massage when he gets you home," he laughed. "He's not my husband," she blushed. "Yet," I interjected. "Oh ... well ... I'll leave it up to you two to decide on the massage," he grinned. "Michelle, I want you to answer some questions for me, OK?" "Sure ... but most folks call me Shelly," she said with a faint smile. "Shelly it is," he said pleasantly, and began to ask her questions that would establish just how clear her memory was. "What day is it?" "I don't know." "What day was the last one you remember?" "Wednesday ... no wait ... Thursday." "What month?" "May?" "What is your date of birth?" "October 1, 1945." "What are your parent's names?" "Uhmmm ... Florence I think and Walter." "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" "No ... I don't think so." "You don't seem very sure about your parents or any siblings. Why?" "My mother left home when I was little. I hardly remember her. I don't know if there were any brothers or sisters. If there were, they'd have to be younger," she said clearly. The young doctor smiled. "You are doing remarkably well for someone who's been unconscious for more than three days. As far as your memory goes, you know who this guy is?" he grinned. "Yeah ... that's Rod. He's my ... boyfriend," she said tentatively. "I'm about to change all that," I said with a big smile. "You are?" she asked apprehensively. "You remember what we were going to do on Saturday night ... last night?" She looked uncertain for a moment and then smiled. "You were going to take me out to dinner and dancing. You wanted me to wear my nice dress," she said happily. "Yeah, well, things didn't quite work out, did they?" "No ... I guess not. But maybe we can do it again when I'm better," she said hopefully. "Count on it. But last night was going to be very special." "Why?" she asked, puzzled. "Because," I paused, reaching into my pocket. "Last night I was going to give you this and ask you if you would marry me," I whispered, opening the little velvet blue box and taking out the ring. "Will you, Shelly? Will you marry me?" She couldn't speak, but she could nod and smile through fresh tears as I slipped the ring on her finger. "Well that's a first," Dr. Thorson laughed. "The poor girl's only been awake for ten minutes and she has to make a life-changing decision. Are you sure you're up to this, Miss Dawson?" Shelly nodded, but then grimaced in pain. "Yes, I'm sure," she managed through clenched teeth. "OK then. But don't go shaking your head too much. As you've already found out, it's going to hurt. Take it easy, you two. She's going to be here for a while. She isn't all better yet." He flashed a big easy smile and walked briskly out of the room. I moved back to her side and sat in the chair. "You know, I was going to get down on one knee in the restaurant and ask you to marry me. I had it all planned. Wait 'till we tell our kids I proposed to you in a hospital bed." "Our kids?" "Well, yeah. You do want children, don't you?" I was concerned, remembering we had never even approached the subject before. "Only if they're yours," she smiled. I breathed a sigh of relief. "How many?" "I don't know. I never thought about it. Anyway, what's the rush? We aren't married yet." She had a funny smile on her face. She was teasing me, her new fiancé. She looked at the ring. "It's beautiful, Rod. It fits perfectly." I leaned over the side rails and kissed Shelly gently. "I love you, Shelly. I was so scared when you got hurt. I didn't know what to do. I felt so helpless. It was all my fault," I said sadly. "I love you too, Rod. I didn't know how much I could love someone until I met you." "Mom helped me pick out the ring. She's the one who knew what size to get." "She's going to be my mom for real, soon. She makes me feel so good, Roddy. I am so lucky," she sniffed. "They're going to kick me out of here. It's already past five and 'dragon-lady' will be out looking for me for sure." "And here I am," the stern nurse announced as she marched into the room. "You can come back tomorrow if you behave, young man. Otherwise, I'll have you doing your visiting out in the parking lot," she said in a firm voice. "Yeah ... OK ... I surrender," I smirked, shrugging my shoulders at Shelly. "So ... let's have a look at the rock, Miss Dawson. Thorson said it was a dandy," she grinned as she walked to the other side of the bed and picked up Shelly's left hand to examine the ring. "Not bad. My old man never gave me anything as nice as that. Maybe if he had, I might have kept him around a little longer," she harrumphed. Shelly was giggling as the nurse fussed with the settings on the I.V. and other tubes. "What are you still doing here, buster? I thought I told you to hit the road. You can come back here tomorrow and visit if you're nice to me." I just laughed and leaned over, kissing Shelly and waving goodbye as I slowly left the room. I couldn't believe how much better I was feeling. So much had happened in such a short period of time. No one knew Shelly had awoken, I realized. I raced down the stairs and out to the parking lot. Chapter 8: Little Steps, Big Steps May 25, 1969 "She's awake!" I yelled as I burst through the front door, startling the people in the living room. "She's awake!" My mother rose with a look of surprise, and then joy. "Oh Roddy! Is she going to be alright?" she asked as she moved to embrace me. "Yeah ... I think so. She can't come home right away, but ... she seems to be OK." "Oh, thank God!" Mom gasped as she turned back to the living room. When the commotion settled down, I had a chance to tell everyone that I had given Shelly a ring and we were now officially engaged. The mood in the room, already bright, was improved that much more. A Sunday supper turned into a celebration for two big events. Shelly wasn't released until the following Friday afternoon. She had some trouble walking at first. Her balance was unsteady and she felt dizzy when she stood. The hospital provided a walker for her, and between Monday and Friday morning she had improved to the point where she just needed it for safety. She was still having some trouble with dizzy spells when she stood or moved too quickly, but the headaches were lessening and her ability to concentrate was improving. It was, as the doctor said, a matter of time and rest. Mom and I brought her home and had her sit in the living room. She could watch TV or just rest. She wasn't able to read with any comfort as her concentration was still weak, and the eye strain produced headaches. For the time being she was confined to the lower floor until bedtime when I would help her upstairs to her room. We talked a lot during the evenings. The wedding date hadn't been set and since it was already mid-May, there wouldn't be a June wedding. Shelly didn't mind. There was no rush. She had her ring. It hadn't left her finger since it was returned to her before she was wheeled out of the hospital. It was the inspiration for her to get well. I returned to work that week with a renewed enthusiasm. Shelly was going to be alright. It was just a matter of time. I would let her and my mother decide the details about the wedding. All I cared was that it would happen. The decision was made for an early September ceremony at First Presbyterian, our neighborhood church. Mom had visited Pastor Ford to discuss the arrangements and set the date. She explained that when Shelly was well enough, she and I would come in to talk with him. He was satisfied, knowing of the accident, and grateful that the prayers for her recovery had been answered. I had continued to attend church after that first fearful Sunday. I thought myself a hypocrite if I was just there for my own selfish needs. Mother and I had been welcomed by the congregation and Pastor Ford. Jurgen had joined us as well. He hadn't been in a church since his childhood in Dresden. He was a nominal Lutheran, but in the company of Mother, Shelly and me, he was comfortable in our local house of worship. It took Shelly almost three weeks to recover enough that she felt safe climbing the stairs on her own and walking in her neighborhood. She and Mom would walk for an hour after breakfast and again, when Mom did her shopping rounds after lunch. It was good exercise and helped restore Shelly's health. Shelly was surprised at how many people took the trouble to ask about her and wish her well. It was a big boost to her spirits. She was used to being invisible, but that was no longer the case. When Mom had posted the notice of our engagement in the local paper, she had included a picture of us. Shelly joined the rest of the family at church. She was grateful for their prayers and although she had no idea if she had ever been baptized or which denomination her mother or father was, she was satisfied with the nearby church and felt comfortable with Pastor Ford. It was nearing the end of the school year and I chose to tough it out at the station, not hiring a temporary to replace Shelly. I hadn't yet discussed a return to work with her. I wasn't sure if she wanted to or not. It was a subject that I would have to face sooner or later. As it was, I was working long hours at the station just to keep up with the workload. Duke was a big help. He was not only there in the afternoons, he was working late with me to complete jobs that Shelly might have handled. Jurgen worked at his steady, productive pace and we were able to keep up with the flow of business. That flow was still increasing. Mike, of course, was available for the grunt work on the weekends and both he and Duke would be full time at the end of the school year. Duke and his girlfriend Shannon were an unusual couple. The slim, very attractive young woman was forever at Duke's side. She was a McLaren, and the McLaren's were old money. Duke was from "the other side of the tracks," and I wondered just how well her parents were dealing with their daughter's boyfriend. But then, Duke wasn't what he seemed to be at first look. People were bringing their cars in for pre-vacation servicing now. I had promoted just such a service, requiring us to go over all the main systems of each car to make sure it was safe and in good running order. For $19.95 it was a bargain, and to my surprise and delight it was also very popular. At first, the inspections were entrusted only to me and Jurgen, but by mid June, I was confident Duke could handle the procedure as well. The first anniversary of our arrival in Bellingham had slipped by unnoticed by almost everyone. Everyone except Mom. She was reflecting back on the past year after the July monthly meeting. She was thinking how much had happened and how much had changed in our family in the past thirteen months. We had upped stakes in Cut Bank and moved to the west coast. We had purchased and renovated a service station in the heart of the town. We were now owners of a fine old home in the same part of town. I had become engaged to a very nice young woman who was living in our house. Jurgen and my mother had become close as well. We were now responsible for four employees outside the Williams family. Mom reminded me often that the growth had been phenomenal. Still, it had been done in the same way we had run the ranch -- conservatively. The debt was manageable, the business was profitable almost from the beginning, and it was growing steadily. She voiced her concerns where all this would lead and how long she could contribute her skills. She said she was happy, but uncertain about where this would take us in the next few years. That summer, the growth in business and profitability of the station continued on an upward path. It was becoming plain to both Mother and me that we were nearing the breaking point. We soon wouldn't have the resources to accept any more business. A big decision was at hand. At the monthly meeting in early August, I addressed the group with our concerns. "Folks, we've become too successful for our own good. We are going to run out of capacity sometime soon. As it is, we're working very hard just to keep up now. I've been talking to Mom about this and I'd like to get a few things out on the table today. "Now that Shelly is back ... that helps with the manpower situation. Still, it's just a two-bay garage, so no matter how many people we have, we can only do so much work. I'm open to suggestions." "What about a night shift?" Duke asked. "Possible, but has Shannon given you an OK for that?" I laughed. The dark-haired beauty poked her boyfriend in the arm. "No she hasn't," she stated emphatically. "Perhaps if we had another station..." Jurgen suggested, his voice trailing off. "That thought crossed my mind too. But that means running a complete operation. Right now we just need a shop," I said. "You know that old brick warehouse a couple of blocks above us on J St. off Bancroft?" Duke asked. "I've had my eye on it for a while. It's been empty. I think the owner gave up trying to sell it and there's a rental sign on it now. Looks like it has a high ceiling. We might be able to use that as a shop," he suggested. "I can't think of the one you mean. Why don't we go have a look at it tomorrow, Duke? It wouldn't be hard to move cars over there to work on them if it's only three blocks away," I noted. "I'll get the phone number of the agent on my way home," Duke offered. Monday noon hour, Duke and I met realty agent Tom Humphreys at the vacant warehouse. Humphreys introduced himself and proceeded to unlock the door and guide Duke and me inside. "There's no power on ... hasn't been for a long time," Humphreys stated. The skylights in the ceiling provided some light in the building and as our eyes adjusted, we were able to see the interior. It was musty and dank. It had been empty for several years by the look of things. Cobwebs and dust covered everything. "Floor's not bad," Duke offered. "Plenty of room," I said. "Looks like about five thousand square feet." "Forty-four fifty," Humphreys announced, looking at his information sheet. "We could handle at least six cars in here," Duke suggested. "Needs some lighting and equipment, Duke." "Yeah. Especially lighting. Compressor, two-twenty wiring, couple of hoists," Duke said idly as he looked around. "Big cleaning job," I said quietly to no one in particular. I turned to Humphreys. "How much rent per month?" "Eight hundred might get it. I'd suggest an option to purchase. If it does what you want, you don't want to have to start all over again," the realtor said. "I need to talk to the city. Make sure this is OK with them," I said. "What do you think, Duke?" "I think it's plenty big, but it's going to be a lot of work to get it ready. Rest of the summer and then some, I'm guessing," he said seriously. "I think you're right. I've already done this once and I don't want to do it all again. We'll need help. Let's go talk to the city, and then we can figure out what's what." A week later we had city approval to use the building as a repair shop only. No pumping gas and no bodywork or painting. In addition, we had to agree to clean up the property and the outside of the building as well as keep noise to a minimum. The building was right on the edge of the residential area. When I proposed painting the brickwork white, they balked, agreeing instead to a dark red color. The trim would be ARCO blue. Mindful of the extreme effort required on the station the previous year, I chose to hire painters and summer students to do the strenuous work. Only the floor, cleaned and then epoxy finished, was done by Jurgen, Duke and me. We pondered the problem of putting hydraulic hoists in the rented building, but it was Ted Reynolds who came up with a solution. Ted suggested leasing surface hoists, now being used in several of the newer stations. Attached securely to the floor, they had the capability of lifting 7500 lbs. to a height of six feet, more than enough for the typical vehicles they serviced. A visit to a station in Everett with Ted convinced us that it was the right solution. We would start with two of the units. In the meantime, the permanent post-hoist for the service station bay had arrived and was being installed. It would be ready for use within a week. I would breathe a sigh of relief when the last of the pit was covered and the floor was refinished. Shelly was back at the station, but for the time being only pumping gas and running the office. With Duke and Mike, there was no shortage of help in the service area. With the fluorescent lighting and the inside of the warehouse spray-painted white, the dingy old building took on a new life. It was bright and now clean. A compressor was installed at the back in a semi-soundproofed area. It would run the pneumatic tools and air guns. An upgraded 220 electrical service was supplied for the balance, including the hydraulic pumps for the lifts. If we decided that they didn't want to continue to use the building when the lease expired, we could remove almost everything and the owner would have an improved building to sell. -0- My thanks to Erik Thread for his continuing support and excellent editing. Any errors are mine alone.