YOU CAN COUNT ON WILMA – A Free Story

It had been one of those awful days at the bank for Wilma Jackson with cash drawer discrepancies, annoyed customers angry over checks bouncing, and long lines with Friday deposit drop offs. Wilma’s new teller, Missy Baylor, broke down in tears after an angry client got upset about standard withdrawal limits, blaming her for being unreasonable and trying to throw his weight around as a corporate executive. Now, here at day’s end, another teller, Charlene White, had a cash drawer discrepancy. They couldn’t close the bank branch until the discrepancy was straightened out, so Wilma, as the Lead or Senior Teller, went through all Charlene’s checks, bills, and currency once again with her.

“Ah, here’s our problem, I think,” Wilma said. “One of your ten-dollar bills was stuck to another. It happens sometimes, especially with fresh currency that can build up a little static charge. I imagine this extra ten is the ten-dollar amount bringing us short.”

Charlene finished the count and then smiled. “That was it. Thank you, Wilma.”

Their Branch Manager, Dwight Carlson, who had come to check on the problem, too, eager to see it resolved so he could head home, grinned and said, “You can always count on Wilma, always reliable.  Just one of those ever-dependable people.”

The compliment received was nice, but somehow on this Friday afternoon, as tired as she felt, the words seemed to echo over and over in Wilma’s mind in an annoying sing-song as she drove home. Growing up, her father had said those same words to her hundreds of times, “Wilma, what would I do without you to keep up with me and the boys now that your mother is gone? You’re such a reliable girl and I can always count on you.” Her first husband Sheldon said those words to her often, too, before he died, and then, in a memory that still hurt, Barry Short spoke the words to her many times, as well. “I can always count on you, Wilma. You’re such a sensible, reliable woman,” he’d say, as if that made everything all right he’d failed to do or covered up any wrong.

As Wilma pulled into her driveway, her cell phone pinged. Stopping the car and glancing at her phone, she saw the call from her good friend Denise Ogle.

“Hi, Denise,” she answered. “Are you still coming over for dinner?”

“I am. Is it still all right?”

“Yes. I haven’t suddenly gotten a hot Friday night date offer.”

“Me, neither,” Denise giggled. “Do I need to bring anything but salad and dessert?”

“No. I have everything to make a ham and cheese quiche. I’ll toss it all together and get it in the oven after I change clothes.”

“Okay. I’m going to go home and change, too. I’ll see you in about an hour.”

Wilma’s house was a pretty rancher on a wooded lot near the Smoky Mountains, with Webb Creek at the back of the property. She’d always liked the house’s location in Pittman Center where she could hear the creek when the windows were open and sit out on the back porch to enjoy it more. Her first husband Sheldon loved the house they’d picked, too, because it wasn’t far from his family’s big auto sales business, Jackson Auto, on Hwy 321. Sheldon, a smart, outgoing and personable man, loved being out in the public, a born salesman and businessman, if a little narcissistic around the edges.

Their house had grown very quiet after Sheldon died unexpectedly. He was definitely the rooster in both their home and his business. They’d had two sons, both grown now, Artie, a lot like his father, who had moved into the family auto business with his grandfather, and Bryan, a minister like her father, had been quieter and more bookish in nature.

In the house, Wilma slipped out of the nice slacks and blouse she always wore for work, pulling on comfortable jeans and a long, knit shirt. Kicking off her good shoes and slipping on old canvas shoes, she paused at the mirror to look at herself, a tall, slim woman, fit and healthy, active all her life with sports and out-of-doors activities. She still had the fair, platinum blond hair she’d been born with, even at nearly sixty-five, nice eyes, a good healthy complexion.

“I guess you look pretty good for a middle-aged woman,” she said to herself, but, admittedly, she missed having men in her life. She’d taken care of her father and her younger brothers as a young girl, then Sheldon and their two boys, and then Barry. There had always been men in her life that needed caring for.

Back in the kitchen, she tossed all the ingredients for the quiche into a pastry shell, popped it in the oven, and then started setting the table as Denise arrived.

“We had a busy day at the Millhouse golf course today,” Denise said, giving Wilma a wave as she breezed in the back door and dropped her bag on the table. “My dessert contribution is a lovely helping of some of Nonnie Wingate’s sinful Chocolate Turtle Brownies. leftover from one of those lady’s teas she does at the Butterfly Tearoom. She brought some by the shop for all of us. Honestly, that woman is such a fabulous cook. Every once in a while I sneak over to sit in on one of her lunches when I can slip away from the pro shop.”

Without pausing, she pulled out a salad bag from the grocery sack. “Do you have a bowl I can toss this salad in? It’s mixed greens and has its own seasonings and dressing in the bag.”

Wilma grabbed a bowl from the shelf for her.

As Denise started to toss the salad she asked, “How was your day?”

“A little too problem-filled. I’m glad it’s Friday. I’m ready for a break.”

Denise made a face. “I’m sorry for that. I hope our girls’ night will make it better.”

“I’m sure it will.” Wilma checked the oven. “The quiche is almost ready.” She went to get glasses off the shelf. “Would iced tea be all right?”

“Absolutely, but let me fix it while you get the quiche out and cut it. It smells wonderful.”

They settled in to eat a short time later, chitchatting about their day.

“Andy Kiley, the golf pro before Lucas James came, stopped by the pro shop today.” Denise paused. “His Parkinson’s is getting worse but otherwise he was fine and talkative. He was asking us about Barry, knowing he used to manage the pro shop.”

Wilma made a face. “Surely he knows about Barry after all this time.”

“Well, he does, but he was saying he heard Barry would be getting out of prison later this year and wondered if I knew what he would do.”

“What did you answer?” Wilma tried not to sound testy.

“I told them I didn’t know, and then they asked if you kept up with him since you were married.”

Wilma tried to decide what to answer. “Occasionally Barry writes to me but not by invitation and I don’t respond. I also know he’s written you, Beau and Nonnie Wingate who own the resort, and even Lucas James, your golf pro. You told me that yourself. Also since you used to be Barry’s assistant manager in the golf pro shop, it seems you ought to know as much about him as I do and certainly more than I want to know.”

“You’re still bitter and angry at him,” Denise said.

“Not really. I’ve just made it clear my life is going forward in a new direction without him. He deserted me and he lied to me. He told me he was going on a business trip for the golf pro shop. I helped him pack, like I always do, made sure he had clean clothes and that he hadn’t forgotten anything. I remember he said, ‘I can always count on you, Wilma.’”

She shook her head. “I will never forget that Monday when Lucas James called me to find out why Barry hadn’t showed up at work. You should remember that day, too. You had to go in and work for him on your day off. Confused with Lucas’ call, I told him I thought Barry was out of town on a buying trip for the shop.”

“I do remember that day. It was awful,” Denise said. “Before the day was out, we learned Barry had been stealing money from the shop and that he’d run off knowing he’d be exposed by the accountant coming in to go over the books.”

Wilma closed her eyes. “Can you imagine how I felt? I was married to the man and suddenly realized I didn’t know him at all. I lost all respect for him then, Denise. In calling our bank, I learned he’d quietly cleaned out his bank account, left town with the money he’d stolen from the shop plus all the cash in our house. It was a horrible time.  As all the lies and deceit came out, I had to admit to Lucas, Beau Wingate, and the sheriff, that Barry had been doing online gambling in the last years. I’d loaned him money in past to pay his debts out the year before and he promised he’d never gamble again. I believed him.”

“Do you think he’ll come back here when he gets out of prison?” Denise asked as they finished dinner and moved to sit outside on the back porch with coffee. “I admit we’ve all been a little concerned he might.”

“Why should he come here?” Wilma asked. “Keep in mind I am legally divorced from Barry Short. Even the policeman taking my original statements advised me to get an attorney immediately to protect myself and my other assets when I learned what Barry had done, deserted our home, lied, and stolen monies. You might remember when I married Barry, I kept my name, Wilma Jackson, because of the boys in part and for respect to their father, and because I had accounts in my name and this house in my name. I have thanked the Good Lord often I had the good sense and good counsel to do that. To this day, I have no idea if Barry was involved in gambling previously in his life before we married and before he came to Tennessee to work for Beau Wingate at the pro shop. Beau told me that, as far as he knew, Barry had no previous criminal record but I admit I knew little about his earlier life.”

“I’m sorry I brought this up,” Denise said, frowning. “But I do know Barry has been writing to people, saying how sorry he is for the mistakes he made. He writes that he’s had counseling and help and wants to begin again on a new keel when he gets out of prison. He’s been there five years now. Lucas told me he only stole about thirty to forty thousand dollars from the pro shop, which he swore he meant to repay and has now repaid, due to court fines. Because he had no previous criminal record, things went easier for him in court. Beau Wingate and Lucas spoke well of Barry, testifying that until the time when he began to take money from the shop for his gambling debts, he’d been a fine and honorable pro shop manager. However, running away as he did got factored in and probably caused him to get more prison time.”

“If all that’s true, Denise, why did he run and why did he lie?”

“I guess he was scared.” Denise wrinkled her nose. “Most people would be. Maybe he really is changed now and will turn his life around. I’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would, but that turnaround will not be with me, Denise Ogle. Barry betrayed me and our marriage and our family in every way. It hurt the boys, even though he wasn’t their father as Sheldon was, and it hurt me.”

“Are you not able to forgive him and give him another chance?”

Wilma felt stunned Denise would even ask her that. “I have forgiven him with good counseling help, I might add, but I am not the woman to give Barry Short another chance. Barry may be writing appealing letters to people, knowing he’ll be getting out of prison soon. But keep in mind it was a considerable time before the police caught up with Barry and brought him back here to stand trial. There were no notes to anyone and no anonymous calls of regret and repentance after he lied and fled, Denise. In fact, he was caught in Las Vegas, of all places, in the gambling capital of the U.S. I doubt any of us would have gotten any sweet notes from Barry Short at all if the police hadn’t caught up to him.”

Denise sat quietly for a time, both of them listening to the sound of the creek nearby. “I guess you’re right. Barry was one of those affable, easy-going, likable types. It was always hard to believe he’d gotten stupidly involved in online gambling.”

“Barry always had time management problems. He wasted time, procrastinated and delayed tasks, and never used his spare time productively. He spent huge blocks of time flipping channels on the television and surfing on the internet rather than doing anything productive with his off time. He loved online games and played them almost addictively, not recognizing those little casino gambling games could lead directly into deeper gambling sites.”

“You’re right,” Denise agreed. “Barry goofed off a lot at work, too. He left so many things undone I had to finish when I came in. He was so charming, like a little boy, that it was hard to stay mad at him.” She paused. “I know he leaned to you heavily here at home, too, counted on you to keep his life in line. He was always calling you to ask about appointment times, to find things he’d lost, to get you to look up answers for him that he could easily have found by himself.” She looked embarrassed then. “I did things like that for him, too.”

“Well, I heard the new golf pro manager and assistant golf pro, Chet Mincie, has been a real asset to the resort.”

“Oh, he is wonderful, and he played golf professionally like Lucas James did, so it’s impressive having him on staff. We have two men now working at the resort with golf pro backgrounds and Chet is a hard worker and a go-getter.”

Wilma sent her a smirk. “So, I doubt you’re going to suggest rehiring Barry?”

“Not hardly. I think it might be hard for him to get a job with his record, don’t you?”

“I do, but his parents own a big farm in Indiana. He hated the work discipline there and the long hours. He often told me he couldn’t wait to escape the farm, but it might be the best place for him now. His parents are good people.”

They changed their topic of conversation then to talk about other things for which Wilma was glad. She admitted she’d been nervous thinking about Barry coming home. The last time she’d seen him had been over five years ago when she went to see him in jail to explain in person why she’d filed for divorce after he deserted and lied to her, betraying her and others who had been good to him. It had been a hard conversation but Barry’s usual boyish excuses and rationales for his behavior hadn’t touched her that day. He hadn’t contested the divorce and she had gradually moved on, but he had written recently and talked about hoping to come to see her when he got out of prison.

On an odd whim on Sunday, the unhappy past so much on her mind, Wilma drove from Cosby to Lenoir City where she’d grown up and went to the church her father had pastored for so many years. Knowing the day would be pleasant in late April, she packed a little picnic lunch to take down to the pavilion by the big Fort Loudon Marina.

Of course, at church several people recognized her from the past and came to speak with her. “Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you,” said Mrs. Johnson, who had once worked in the church office. “I have such fond memories of your family. You know I was friends with your mother when we were girls and you are so much like her, a good, responsible, selfless person, so reliable.” She smiled. “Your father was a fine minister but a bit scattered, too, if you know what I mean. You were such a blessing to him after your mother died, helping him stay on task and taking care of things at home, keeping up with your twin brothers still young boys. I know that wasn’t easy, but as your father often said in praise of you, he could always count on you. We all loved him here at Grace Church and were sorry when he passed.”

Wilma chatted with several others like Mrs. Johnson and then changed shoes and got her insulated picnic bag out of the car, draping it over her shoulder. She walked across the street then, cutting through the side property by the old home her family once lived in to follow a familiar side trail down the back roads leading to the Lenoir City Park and the Fort Loudon Marina property on the lake. So close to her house, this had been Wilma’s favorite place to come as a girl. She brought her brothers, the twins Matt and Phillip, here to play often and they loved romping around the grounds, feeding the geese, wading along the shore, and swinging in the playground. While they played, she’d sit at a picnic table, read and dreamed her dreams.

Distracted with her thoughts, she almost didn’t see the man who came walking along the shoreline. “Wilma Jean?” she heard him say, making her look up. A smile spread over his face. “This is a treat I hadn’t expected today.”

With surprise, Wilma’s eyes passed over the tall man with dark hair, a bit of a beard and a little mustache, wearing glasses, and dressed in khaki slacks and a black golf shirt. She grinned, too, in recognition. “Well, if it isn’t Johnny Ray McKinsey. It has been a long time. Are you here visiting family?”

She held out a hand as he walked closer.

“I am.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Shaking hands is not for old childhood friends. Give me a big hug. I am so glad to see you.” He stepped back to smile at her again. “I am here visiting family in part, and I’ve actually been asking around to find out where you lived. I was hoping to come to see you while here. I know you moved to Cosby not far from Gatlinburg after you married Sheldon Jackson. Are you still there or have you moved back to Lenoir City?”

“No, I still live in Cosby,” she answered, still stunned to see him again, “but Sheldon’s been gone a long time, died young, and our boys are grown and gone, as well. I just had a whim to come visit Dad’s old church today. It seemed a pretty day to get out. I left my car at the church and walked down the paths and side roads from our old house to the park, purposed to enjoy a little picnic here and to remember old times.”

“Let’s sit down and talk,” he said, pulling her to sit beside him on top of one the picnic tables facing the lake, where they’d always sat and talked so many years ago. Glancing sideways at her, he said, “I’m going to embarrass you and tell you that you are even more beautiful than I remember.”

“Thank you,” she said, not used to compliments at her age and blushing a little.

“You also look like you’re ready to climb on board one of the yachts in the marina in that striped nautical shirt and white skirt.”

She laughed at his words. “That was always my dream, you know, to travel in one of those big yachts up and down the rivers and perhaps to even sail out into the ocean, seeing the sights, exploring new places. You should remember that. You loved dreaming those dreams, too. With your dad managing the marina here, you got to meet a lot of the people who traveled the rivers, too.”

“I did.” He smiled. “What else do you remember?”

“I remember the thrill of going with you to visit people traveling the rivers and coming through the Fort Loudon Lock. I remember what wonderful stories they told, don’t you? I also remember going out in your boat after you saved up to buy your own runabout. We explored up and down the rivers then ourselves. With my life as full of responsibilities as much as it was, taking care of dad and the boys, it was the most exciting thing in my life at that time.” She smiled. “With my sedate and normal life all these years, I still remember those times fondly.”

“I hope I am one of those fond memories, too.”

Wilma turned to look at him. “You don’t need to fish for compliments, John. You were my childhood and girlhood love. I hope life has been good to you since. I missed you when you went away to college, but I know you had a wonderful school opportunity.”

“We were both smart in school growing up and you know I was a little nerdy, ever hungry to learn, always asking questions, wanting to learn new things. When other guys were playing football, I was learning how boats were built and learning from the old sailors and mechanics at the marina how to fix them.”

“You went away to school to learn more of that, didn’t you?” she asked.

“I did. I got an incredible opportunity and was accepted to the Webb Institute in Glenn Cove, New York, a small college, devoted to naval architecture, marine engineering, and the study of ship design and operations. It has only about a 14% acceptance rate and one-hundred students on campus, and the college offers a full-tuition scholarship for all students accepted. It was the chance of a lifetime, Wilma. It changed my life and enabled my dreams.” He paused, grinning. “An old quote on the wall at the college says: If you can build a boat here, you can build anything.”

“And did you learn to build boats?”

“Yes, and there was little I didn’t learn about boats, yachts, and more. I’ve spent most all my career life in or around boats, piloted and cared for big yachts, helped build them, traveled and worked on big ships, helped to operate, repair, and captain nearly every kind of craft.”

She looked at his animated face. “I’m glad for you, Johnny.” Wilma pointed to her lunch tote. “Have you had lunch? I’ve got sandwiches, fruit, chips, and some brownies a friend brought to my house on Friday evening, plenty to share.”

“I’d like that,” he replied, the two of them moving to sit on the picnic table bench now where they could still look out over the lake as they ate.

“This feels just like old times,” he said, taking one of the sandwiches she’d brought, the two of them eating lunch for a time without much talk. “Why do you have an extra sandwich and so much lunch?” he asked after a time. “Were you expecting someone?”

“No, just planning to feed the greedy geese after I ate,” she answered.

“I’d forgotten we always brought extra food for them.” He ate lunch for a little longer and then asked, “Tell me about yourself and what you’ve been doing.”

She paused, unwilling to tell him she’d wept when he left and hoped he’d come home to her again. She’d never told a single person that. But, of course, Johnny didn’t come back, and she’d graduated from high school, too, and then gone to the University of Tennessee to major in math. The subject had always interested her and she’d thought she might teach one day. Wilma told him that part in up-date, adding. “I commuted for classes since I was still needed at home, with the boys still in school and dad on his own with mom gone.”

“I always thought you carried too much responsibility at home,” he put in.

“Perhaps, but it was my life at the time. However, in my second year of college, I met Sheldon and since he was graduating and proposed, I accepted, married him and moved to Cosby with him to start married life, have and raise two boys. As they got older I worked at Jackson Auto part time doing books and helping with the accounting. When Sheldon died, I got a job in a bank as a teller, wanting a change. I’m still there.”

She hesitated, deciding what else to tell him. “Later when the boys left home for college, I met and married again but it was a sad mistake. Barry ended up in prison. I never took his name, thankfully, and I suffered no loss except heartache.” She looked down at her lap, hating to say more.

He reached over to take her hand. “I’ve been a horrible snoop and kept up with your life, Wilma. You don’t need to tell me more.” He grinned at her. “When I graduated from college, I came back hoping to find you, but learned you’d married. I did, too, later. It eventually ended in divorce.” He laughed softly. “Joella didn’t like boats. I don’t know why I thought that might work out, and she eventually got tired of my fascination with them and all my travel.”

“We don’t always make the greatest choices in partners,” she said, smiling at his honesty in return. “Did you have children?”

“No, the marriage didn’t last that long, and other relationships I got involved with didn’t last long either.”

Wilma thought back over his words. “You said you’d been keeping up with me and that you were hoping to come see me while here. Why is that?”

“Well, I’m retiring and have decided to follow another old dream, one we once shared.” He started picking up their lunch trash. “Come down to the marina. I want to show you something.”

“All right.” She packed up the last of their lunch, draping the tote across her shoulder as she stood. “I was planning to walk to the marina and look at the boats before I drive back home anyway. It will be fun to do that with you.”

They strolled in the sunshine down to the big marina on the lake, walking down one of the long ramps past the huge boats and yachts docked there. Johnny stopped at one large sleek boat near the end of the dock. “This is a Nordhavn 76, in the class called a Motor Yacht.”

“She’s a beauty,” Wilma said in admiration.

“She’s a luxury yacht meant to live and travel in. She has fabulous living quarters, a 500 HP motor, incredible equipment for comfortable travel in all seasons.” He turned to her. “Do you want to go on board and check her out? She’s mine, Wilma, and I intend to sail and explore the waterways and travel down to the Caribbean islands and anywhere else I want to go.”

Wilma’s mouth dropped open. “You have done well in life, Johnny Ray, to buy a craft like this. I am proud and happy for you. What wonderful adventures you will have!”

He toured her through the boat then, even down into the storage areas, talking about the purpose of pieces of equipment, generators, water tank holders, and more. She loved seeing every inch of it and must have asked a thousand questions.

Excited for him, she said, “I want you to send me pictures and emails so I’ll feel like I’m sharing some of these adventures with you.”

He stopped and looked at her. “I know it’s been years and almost a lifetime since we’ve seen each other, but it feels like only yesterday to me.”

There was a bit of a sizzle in the air making Wilma agree. “This will be a day to remember Johnny Rae.”

“Let’s make it better,” he said, leaning in to kiss her, which quickly seemed to Wilma exactly like the wonder of their early teen years when they’d discovered kissing and falling in love after years of friendship.

“I knew it would still be like this,” he whispered. “Some loves never die, and ours is one of those.” He kissed her again, pulling her close, both of them reveling in the moment, until Wilma pulled away.

“Well, this will certainly be a day I’ll remember for a long time,” she said, trying to sensibly push down her tumult of emotions and remember her age.

He took her hand. “I think the intimacy of the quiet interior of this yacht with you is a little too much for both of us, but come outside. I have something to show you.”

They walked back out onto the deck and then jumped across to the dock.

With her hand still in his, Johnny walked her a little distance past the big yacht to look at the side of it. “Look what I’ve named her,” he said.

There on the side in scrolly white letters were the words The Wilma Jean.

She had no words, crying instead.

“I told you I’ve been following your life, waiting for the right time to come back to you, to see if you would consider loving and marrying me. I think we were always intended, but life just got in the way. Now though, I’m retired, Wilma. I’ve bought the boat we always dreamed of.  My life career has blessed me financially beyond my imagination. We can do all the things we dreamed of as kids and more.”

She couldn’t think what to say.

He paused. “But here’s the thing I want you to know most. You can count on me, Wilma. I want to take care of you. You’ve spent most of your life taking care of others, having others count on you, but now I want to take care of you. Let me be the reliable and responsible one. I know the world of boats well. Let’s go sail and explore the rivers of the U.S. and travel all around the world if we want. This Nordham can take us anywhere we want to go. I have a wonderful agenda mapped out for us and I actually have a sailing magazine eager to carry our journey for others to enjoy, too. Please say you’ll consider it.”

“I’m simply overwhelmed, Johnny Ray. I need time to think.”

“Take whatever time you need. I’ll drive up to Cosby and we’ll spend some evenings and days together, talk more about our lives, go out to dinner, have some fun. I haven’t been in the Smokies for a while.” He paused. “I know your boys live nearby, Artie married, working at Jackson Auto, Bryan engaged, pastoring a church in Norris not too far away. I’d like to meet the boys. I can stay here, docked at the marina, for as long as you need, except that …”

“Except that what?” Wilma asked.

“Except that I’m eager to live old dreams and new ones with you.” He kissed her again in the sunshine, making her head swim with wonder.

On the way home to Cosby the words Wilma heard the most in her mind were: ‘You can count on me, Wilma,’ not the old familiar words she’d heard so often, ‘I can always count on you, Wilma,’ but John’s words: “You can count on me. I want to take care of you. Let me be the reliable and responsible one.” What a novel idea that was.

Later that summer Barry Short drove up the driveway to the house where he’d lived with Wilma near the Smokies. He knew she’d said she didn’t want to see him again, but he was hoping she might change her mind. Afterall, Wilma had always been a good egg, someone he could count on, the kind of woman who liked to look after others.

She wasn’t there. The house was dark and looked deserted, but Barry found the screened door open in back, and he walked in, thinking he might wait for her. Taped on the door, though, he found a worn envelope with his name on it. Inside the note said: “I told you I’ve moved on, Barry. I’ve found someone I can count on this time, not just someone who will count on me.”

If you enjoyed the characters you met in this story and would like to visit with many of them again, look for my book THE INTERLUDE, set in Pittman Center in the Smoky Mountains.  You can order the book through any bookstore or retailer near you or online … or you can read more about it and order it autographed at: https://linstepp.com/the-interlude-book-12/

_________________________________

 

 

 

Note: All photos my own, from royalty free sites, or used only as a part of my author repurposed storyboards shown only for educational and illustrative purposes, acc to the Fair Use Copyright law, Section 107 of the Copyright Act.