|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 19, 2016 20:09:25 GMT -6
Welderman – Chapter 1
Not surprisingly, John Welderman III was a welder, as was his father and his father’s father. Each had learned the craft starting at their father’s knee, and then going on to more professional training.
John Welderman Sr. had been a welder at the Bath Iron Works in Maine since the mid 1930s. When Henry Kaiser had opened the Kaiser shipyard in Richmond, California, in 1940 (in response to ship orders from the British government), Welderman Senior had been asked to relocate as part of a core team to open the new yards. He was senior welder at the Richmond yard until the war ended and the Kaiser shipyards closed. On the advice of a friend, he moved his family to Las Vegas, Nevada and worked on major casino projects until he retired in 1975. John Senior had married Katherine Fraser in San Francisco in 1942.
John Welderman Jr. had been born in 1944 in Richmond, California, during his father’s stay with Kaiser Shipyards. He graduated from Las Vegas High School in 1962 and served three years in the Army with the Engineers, putting the welding skills he had already learned from his father to good use and expanding on them. Upon leaving the service, he joined his father in hotel/casino construction in Las Vegas. John Jr. married Wilma (Peters) in 1972. John Jr. died in 1992, in an industrial accident while working on the Luxor.
John Welderman the Third, known to his close friends (and only his close friends) as “Third,” was born at Valley Hospital Medical Center in 1973. Third graduated from Las Vegas High School in 1991 and was enrolled in an apprenticeship program at Sheet Metal Local 88 when his father died the following year. Andy Simone, one of the union delegates, was close friends with John Jr. and made sure the generous benefits were quickly disbursed and that Wilma was taken care of. Andy also kept a close eye on Third and shepherded him through the program until he graduated in 1997. John III had been Local 88 since then, working mostly on casino jobs, and doing some welding on the side when casino work was slow.
When John Welderman Senior retired in 1975, he and his wife Katie had built a retirement home in the small unincorporated community of Mountain Springs, Nevada, about a 30-mile drive via Nevada Route 160 and I-15 to the heart of Vegas. When John Jr. died in 1992, his widow Wilma had been invited to move in with them.
Third had a small apartment near South Las Vegas Boulevard and Wigwam Avenue and visited his mother and grandparents nearly every weekend. Thus he was on hand when his mother died in 1997 from cirrhosis of the liver caused by a drinking problem that had kicked into high gear after her husband’s death five years before. John Senior invited Third to move in with them, and he did so.
On a spring evening in 2001, Senior and Third were, as was their nightly habit, sitting on the porch after supper, smoking a good cigar or two and sharing a couple drops of Glenlivet 18. Neither man was a heavy drinker, particularly after seeing what alcoholism had done to Third’s mother, but a good cigar and a good sip of single-malt scotch just seemed to go together.
“Third, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something that’s been bubbling around in my mind lately.”
“What is it, Granddad?” Third asked.
“Well, neither Katie nor I are getting any younger. I turn 86 this year, and my child bride in there” - gesturing with his thumb towards the kitchen, where Katie was finishing up the dishes - “turned 78 last month. We’re both slowing down some, and we’ve been thinking about, well, you know...”
“Arranging your affairs?” Third filled in.
“Exactly so. The paperwork is all done, but I wanted you to know the details. A copy of the family trust is in my desk, along with the financial records and the name of our attorney in Las Vegas. Obviously, everything goes to you once we’re both gone. Odds are I’ll go before Katie, so I’m counting on you to take care of her.”
“I’ll do my best by both of you, Granddad, you know that,” Third replied, almost with a note of reproach in his voice.
“I know you will, Third. Andy Simone at Local 88 and I stay in touch, and he says that you’re making quite a good name for yourself in the trades. Hard worker, knows his job, always on time, and never causes a problem.” Senior grinned. “Andy also said that, like me, you had zero patience when someone was screwing up or screwing off. Said you got into it with a guy who showed up half-drunk the other day.”
“Yeah, the guy had been drinking until 3 or 4 AM, slept a couple hours in his truck and then tried to go to work. Had his safety harness screwed up. If I hadn’t spotted it, he’d probably have been dead within an hour.” Third thought about a second drink, then capped the bottle and put his glass down. “I turned him in. Andy said he got benched for two weeks without pay and might lose his card. I’ve seen too many people screw up their lives or those of someone else because of the bottle.”
“Like your mom,” Senior said quietly.
Third nodded in agreement. “Like mom. God knows she had reason to drink – losing dad the year before he qualified for full retirement. And knowing I was doing the same work as him, or at least learning to do it. Probably thought she’d lose me the same way.” He sighed deeply. “Maybe I should’ve changed jobs or something, I don’t know.”
Senior nearly slammed his now-empty glass down on the table. “You listen to me, boy, and you listen damn good. You did everything you could for Wilma. Katie and I tried too. I thought getting her out of Vegas might help. Ultimately, people make choices and have to deal with the consequences of those choices.”
The two men sat quietly, neither feeling like another drink after the turn the conversation had taken. The porch light was off, and the men sat in near-total darkness, broken only by the glowing cigar ends.
“Anyway,” Senior said after a time, “everything you’ll need someday is in my desk. There’s a couple other things I want to talk about with you, but they’ll wait for another day.” Senior stood and stretched and put out his stub in the butt can. “I’m for bed. I’m driving Katie into Henderson tomorrow morning for a doctor’s appointment.”
“I’ve got an early day on the Aladdin project tomorrow. We’ll probably finish up most of our work this week, and if we do, I’m taking next week off. Got any projects you want to work on around here?”
“Sure do, Third, a couple things you can help me with in the basement. That involves the other things I wanted to talk to you about.”
Arm in arm, the two men walked inside, closing and locking the door behind them.
|
|
|
Post by misterjimbo on Jul 19, 2016 20:25:42 GMT -6
Excellent start. Sounds like it will be serious. Have you ever tried writing comedy just to give us a breather? Thanks. I'll be back.
|
|
|
Post by 9idrr on Jul 19, 2016 20:42:50 GMT -6
Okay, ya got me hooked again.
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 20, 2016 13:26:32 GMT -6
Welderman – Chapter 2
A few days later
Third’s portion of the Aladdin project wrapped up a day earlier than he thought, so his vacation began on Friday and would stretch 10 days. Third tended to be a “stay-cation” type of guy, more often than not going out to Senior’s place and helping out for a week. The fact that he was now living there full-time made this type of vacation even easier.
After a hearty breakfast, Senior and Third headed down to the basement of Senior’s retirement home. Rather ironic to refer to it as a retirement home, Third thought. Senior is the least retired person I know.
Senior unlocked the door to the basement stairs, flipped on a light switch, and the two men walked down to the basement. Third stopped in shock about halfway down the steps. He hadn’t been down to the basement in a long time; he wasn’t prohibited from going down, he just hadn’t had a reason or need to for quite a while.
“When did you do all this, Granddad?” Third asked in astonishment.
The “this” Third referred to was floor-to-ceiling shelving that filled about two-thirds of the basement. One corner, farthest from the stairs, was marked off with tape on the floor and walls. The shelves were nearly full – canned food, freeze-dried food, paper products, small equipment and tools of various types, cots, blankets, lanterns, and so on.
Senior was pleased at Third’s reaction – not laughter or scorn, but amazement.
“Well, boy, I’ve had stuff put away for a rainy day for a long time. I cranked it up a bit when Junior passed, seven years ago. When’s the last time you were down here anyway?”
“I can’t remember, Granddad. Years, at least.”
“Quite a surprise for you, then. Are you familiar with prepping?”
Third nodded his head. “Setting aside stuff for an emergency, and like that. I had a few things at the apartment when I lived in town, but you always said come out here if something happened, so I didn’t put much aside.”
“Glad to hear we were thinking in the same direction, if only on a different scale. I figure we’re good for six months, minimum, if for some reason we were unable to get into Vegas or Henderson for a while.”
“What’s the taped area in the far corner for, Granddad?”
“That, my boy, is the outline for a fallout shelter, based on one of the booklets the government put out in the 50s and 60s. Works as a storm or tornado shelter, too.”
The two men walked and in the taped area, judging measurements and space. Without realizing it, Third had a bit of a frown on his face as he looked at the area.
“I take it you don’t approve, Third?” Senior asked as they pulled out two folding chairs and sat down inside the “shelter” area.
Third laughed. “I’m sorry, Granddad, it’s not my place to approve or disapprove, but … well, it seems kind of poky, cramped. Even just for you and Grandma.”
“That’s what Katie and I thought too, which is why I didn’t start the masonry work yet. Do you think we should do it?”
Third was silent for a few moments, then slowly shook his head. “I think we’d be stir-crazy in here inside of a day. If we had to stay in here for a month? We’d never make it.”
“What do you think we should do then?” Senior asked.
Third was looking at the wall behind the taped-off shelter area. “Grandpa, what’s on the other side of this wall? I mean, I know it’s earth and rock, but are there any pipes out this way? Water or septic or gas?”
Senior shook his head. “No, that side of things is clear. Water and gas come in from the front, septic tank and leach lines are out back. We’d have to double-check with 811, the Call Before You Dig people, but I’m pretty sure it’s clear.”
“You’re going to think I’m crazy, Granddad...”
“Oh, for pete’s sake, boy, spit it out,” Senior said with a smile. “I already know you’re crazy.”
“What if we build a separate shelter on the other side of the house, and put a tunnel or serviceway through here? We could still put up the masonry shelter here, like you’ve got it taped out. That’d give us a couple extra spots for people if things hit the fan. We can still use the basement for storage.”
Senior was impressed at Third’s thinking, especially since he’d had that idea already, though perhaps not on Third’s scale.
“Way ahead of you, Third. I bought the 20 acres south of us last year. We could dig a mile out in that direction and still be on Welderman land.”
Third laughed loud and long. “I don’t think we need to dig out a mile – just a service tunnel, say, 10 or 20 feet. Put the shelter far enough away so the house wouldn’t come down on it if something happened, though if it was built right, that wouldn’t matter. But why take chances?”
“Sounds good, boy. I’ll put a call in to Utah Shelter Systems, have them send a man down to look over the land. Once they have a plan for us, I’ll call Andy Simone and see if he can help us with permits from Clark County.”
Third agreed. “The man is a fixer. He knows people. Most importantly, he knows how to keep his mouth shut.”
“A quality I’ve always admired in him, and in you,” Senior said with a smile. “Let’s go tell Katie what we’re thinking about, see if she approves.”
Katie approved. USS didn’t have an engineer available for at least a month but sent a large packet of information for the Weldermans to peruse. It was closer to six weeks before the engineer arrived, and it took a couple weeks to stake the land and draw up the plans The shelter itself was off-the-shelf, so to speak; there was some extra design work required for the basement-to-shelter entrance.
Clark County was less than cooperative at first, due mostly to the unusual nature of the Weldermans request for a permit to build an “emergency shelter” when it was clear to all and sundry that they were, in fact, building a very strong bomb shelter. Senior didn’t get mad; he simply called Andy Simone. Andy looked over the plans, then called a friend at Clark County Planning. Permits were issued and they had the green light within a month. Within four months of Senior and Third’s initial conversation, the USS Wolf Den Shelter was installed and fully operational.
Katie made a large batch of shredded BBQ pork for lunch the day the shelter was finished and signed off on by Clark County inspectors, a lunch which was enjoyed by all, including the supervising engineer from USS. He gave the Weldermans a couple ideas on a roll-away or a swing-away shelving unit to conceal the blast door in the basement from prying eyes.
“You’ve got a beauty here, gentlemen,” the engineer said as he headed out to his truck for the drive back to West Jordan, Utah. “I fervently hope you never need to use it.”
“As do we, my friend, as do we,” Senior agreed. “Thanks for your help. Travel safe!”
Senior and Third stood on the front porch, watching the truck drive away and head home.
The date was September 10, 2001.
|
|
|
Post by ss1442 on Jul 20, 2016 14:01:36 GMT -6
Hey, I thought no nukes this time? Thanks for the stories. Mike
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 20, 2016 14:11:03 GMT -6
Hey, I thought no nukes this time? Thanks for the stories. Mike Probably no nukes. The shelter could be foreshadowing or could be a ruse... Only The Shadow knows! LOL
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 20, 2016 17:43:51 GMT -6
Welderman – Chapter 3
Third had taken two days off to be available for any last minute problems with finishing the shelter and was sleeping late when the first plane hit the Twin Towers. Senior woke him up and the two Weldermans were sitting with Katie in the living room when the second tower, and then the Pentagon, were hit.
“Think we need to head down below?” Senior asked.
Third shook his head. “Looks like this is just the New York – Washington corridor. The ground stop means McCarran will be quiet. Let’s just hang tight.”
The family room television stayed on nearly constantly for the next few days as the rescue operation became a recovery operation. Third was off for the rest of the week, since the airport was shut down to all but essential personnel, and renovation on an airport building was definitely not essential.
That crisis passed, at least from day-to-day immediacy, as did others, both natural and man-made. Occasionally the Weldermans held a drill of sorts, see how long it took to get below, get the shelter systems up and running, and so on.
The next crisis was not one that a shelter could save them from.
Thursday, March 17, 2005 – 7:15 PM
Third drove his grandparents into Vegas for St. Patrick’s Day dinner at Nine Fine Irishmen at the New York, New York casino. Afterwards, they wandered the casino floor for a bit. Katie sat down at a quarter slot, as much for a rest as to gamble, and put a $20 bill in the slot. On the third spin, she hit three triple diamonds and won $1200. Not wanting to press her luck, she cashed out and the three headed for home.
Trouble loomed out of the night as Third piloted his grandparents’ 1999 Grand Marquis through light traffic on Nevada Route 160 (aka Blue Diamond Road) when he approached South Cimarron Road in Enterprise. The green light changed, and Third proceeded through. Unfortunately, so did a college student who had just finished a drinking bout with friends at the Mountain Trails Apartments and was heading home.
The student did not see the light was red. He did not see the maroon Grand Marquis that he hit while doing 60 MPH. He did not see the Grand Marquis crumple, spin, overturn and take out a light pole on the corner. He did not see Third crawling out the driver’s window, nor hear his moans of pain turn into screams of rage and sorrow as Third saw what had happened to his grandparents.
It was merciful, in a way, that the initial impact killed the student, who had not been wearing his seatbelt and went through the windshield and a good twenty yards down Cimarron Road. Third, despite his injuries, would literally have torn him limb from limb.
Third was rushed to University Medical Center with a broken left leg, sprained left wrist, a concussion and numerous cuts and bruises. The trauma doctor, upon hearing details of the accident, was amazed that Third had survived, let alone crawled out of the wreckage.
The next week was an absolute blur to Third, not just because of the pain medication he was on, and which he got himself off of as quickly as possible. Joint services for his grandparents were held on the 28th of March. Andy Simone took care of all the arrangements for Third and spoke with the attorney that wrote the trust. He also made sure that the insurance and other benefits coming from the union were rushed through the system.
Senior & Katie were waked at an Italian restaurant in Las Vegas which was a favorite with many members of Local 88, including Senior. Afterwards, Andy Simone drove Third home and stood by as Third carefully maneuvered up the porch steps.
“This is probably a lousy time to bring this up, but I don’t know that there’s a good time, so...” Andy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here’s the checks from your grandparents’ insurance, and the union benefit. There’s also a check that represents a collection from some current and former 88 guys. Your grandfather was loved by a lot of people, Third.”
Third carefully took the envelopes and put them in his jacket pocket. “There’s never a bad time to hear your granddad was loved. Thanks for everything, Andy. I’m going to be off the job for a while. In fact, and this is for your ears only, it’s possible I won’t be back at all.”
Andy frowned. “You’re quitting the job? I didn’t know you were hurt that badly. Your disability insurance should help...”
Third held up his hand. “The doc said I should heal up and be back to working speed within twelve weeks. I just don’t think I want to any more. Granddad had invested wisely, this house is paid for, and this” - patting the envelopes in his pocket - “well, I’m pretty well off.”
“Look, Third,” Andy said, “you don’t have to decide that right now. Let’s get you healthy and back on your feet. You said twelve weeks, right?” Third nodded, and Andy went on. “You’ll be getting disability payments through 88 until you can work full-time. Let’s get together in twelve weeks and see where you stand, ok? I don’t want to see you throw away a career, and one you’re damned good at, in the midst of all this turmoil.”
“Fair enough,” Third said. “I’ll check in with you from time to time, and give you a final decision when I get the OK from my doctor. But just a heads up, I’m 99% certain I’m going to retire.”
“Sounds like a plan, Third. I hope you stay with us. You’re the best welder I’ve ever seen, excepting your dad and granddad. Hate to lose you.” The two men shook hands, and Andy returned to his sedan and drove back to Vegas.
Andy and Third were both true to their word. The men touched bases at least once a week, and on Friday, June 30th, Third came into the Local 88 office to see Andy about quitting. Andy had a surprise waiting for Third when he walked into his office.
“Congratulations, Third. Your medical retirement has been approved by National.”
“What medical retirement, Andy? Have you been drinking this early in the day?”
Andy laughed hard and explained. “When I talked to you last week, I was certain what your decision was going to be. So I called up a buddy in the benefits office at the national headquarters, explained the situation and your family’s long relationship with the union, and they approved you for a medically-based retirement. It won’t be a huge amount, since you only had 14 years on the job, but you could survive on it if you had to.” Andy smiled. “Luckily, with your dad & granddad’s good planning, you won’t have to.”
Third began to tear up, as did Andy, who stood and came around his desk. “This will be the first time I’ve been in Local 88 without a Welderman on the roster. You need anything – and I mean anything – I’m your first call. Got it?”
Third stood and the two men embraced. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help, Andy. With my folks, and now my grandparents.”
“Delegate’s job, Third. But it was always kinda special working with the Welderman clan. You ever change your mind and you’ll always have a job with the ol’ 88.”
“Thanks, Andy. I’ll see you around.” Using a cane, Third maneuvered around the chair, through the lobby, and out into the parking lot. Andy stood at his office window and waved, then sat down and went back to work.
|
|
|
Post by ss1442 on Jul 21, 2016 8:20:56 GMT -6
Lots of back story this time around, I like it. Thank you.
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 21, 2016 14:37:19 GMT -6
Welderman – Chapter 4
Third settled into a quiet lifestyle centered on what was now his home in Mountain Springs, Nevada. His physical recovery was complete, but his mental recovery was taking longer.
One of Third’s only regular contacts with the world outside Mountain Springs was Andy Simone, his delegate from Local 88 and longtime family friend. They had lunch together once a week, either at Third’s home or at the Italian restaurant in Vegas at which they had waked Third’s grandparents.
It was at Andy’s suggestion that Third began working with Local 88’s apprenticeship training program, the same program that Third had gone through more than a decade before. Third could not only share his and his dad & granddad’s experiences, he could also drive home the need for safety among these young kids who tended to think they were bulletproof and knew everything.
And so for the next 15 years, Third’s life settled into a comfortable routine. He worked part-time at the apprenticeship program as an instructor and advisor, with a particular emphasis on safety. He never went back to welding professionally, though he kept his hand in with projects around his home and occasionally demonstrating a technique hands-on to his students. He also gave Andy Simone a hand with a couple of projects at Local 88 from time to time.
When he wasn’t involved with Local 88, Third kept busy with projects around the house and in the never-used shelter. He also shot regularly at a couple of the different ranges in Las Vegas, and occasionally on his own land.
Managing the surprisingly substantial estate Senior had left him took up a fair amount of time as well. Third kept Senior’s attorney as his own, and dealt with a financial advisor and planner recommended to him by Andy Simone. Through smart investments, and (as Third would willingly admit) a fair amount of luck, Third had quintupled the estate left to him by Senior into the low eight figures.
April 19, 2020
All things considered, Third was pretty pleased with his life, with one exception. As he sat on his front porch that spring Friday evening, enjoying his one cigar and one drink of Glenlivet 18 a day, he realized he was lonely.
He wasn’t a hermit or even a loner by any means; when he was dealing with people in public, he was unfailingly polite and charming. More than one woman had given him a second – and third – glance (and, being Vegas, occasionally a guy as well). But the glances were to no avail – Third simply didn’t respond as they desired. He had decided, whether he was aware of it or not, to avoid being hurt by getting too close to anyone. Every time he did, it seemed, they died.
Third went to bed that evening, with this thought bubbling around in his subconscious, and when he got up the next morning, it was still there. As with every Saturday, Third did a couple chores around the house and then got his gear together and went shooting at a private range near Enterprise.
Saturday, April 20, 2020
Third liked to shoot his “regular” weapons most Saturdays. He had a concealed carry permit from Las Vegas Metro PD for a Smith & Wesson Governor, a black matte, six-round revolver which could hold .410 2-1/2” shotgun shells, .45 Colt or (with a moon clip) .45 ACP rounds. His go-to long gun was a Rossi Circuit Judge rifle, which had a five-round cylinder taking the same ammo as the governor: .410 shells or .45 Colt.
Third kept his weapons in excellent condition and often received compliments and comments on the look of the Circuit Judge Rifle, due in part to the rarity of revolving cylinder rifles and in part to the beautiful look of the stock, which Third took special care of.
As a matter of fact, it was the Circuit Judge rifle that caused Third to get into conversation with Maria Diaz at the range that morning.
Third had seen Maria at the range several times but always at a distance. Their acquaintance up to that point had been a smile and a head nod, usually as one of them was leaving and the other one coming in. Both had recognized the other’s charms from afar, but neither had done anything about it, until today.
Third liked to shoot a couple sets of .45 Colt in the rifle, followed by .410 only, and finally a couple sets of combination rounds. As he finished a second set of combination, and set the rifle down on the bench, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Hello, John,” Maria said, as Third lifted one of his hearing protectors up a bit to hear here. “Quite a rifle you have there.”
“Thanks, um...”
“Maria. Maria Diaz. I’ve seen you in here before but never on the line before.”
“That’s right, we haven’t. Always passing at the entrance like ships in the night.”
She smiled. “Not much chance of passing a ship in the middle of the desert, but I know what you mean. Would you mind if I tried shooting it, John?”
Third was so dazzled by her smile and confident (but not cocky) manner that the fact that she knew his name completely passed him by.
“It’d be a pleasure. Have you fired the Circuit Judge rifle before?” Third asked as he set out three of the .410 shells and two .45 Colt rounds and stepped back, motioning her into the lane.
Maria shook her head. “My father used to own one similar, but he willed it to my older brother when he passed away some years ago,” she said as she loaded the rifle, alternating the .45 Colt and .410 rounds as Third usually did, and then sat the rifle down. “Okay, I’m ready. Safety gear on?” They both readjusted their hearing protectors. When Third gave her a single tap on the shoulder and a thumbs up, Maria picked up the rifle, took aim, and fired off five quick but well-aimed rounds.
Between watching her confident handling of the rifle (and watching her, if he were honest), Third didn’t realize how well she shot until he examined the target with his spotting scope.
“Holy s- … um, excuse me, but wow! That was some great shooting, Maria,” Third said as she cleared the cylinder and sat the rifle down, before adjusting her hearing protection.
“Thank you. I’m a little rusty with a long gun; I usually only shoot my concealed carry pistol here. I use a Smith & Wesson 638.”
“Good choice,” Third said. “I carry the Smith & Wesson Governor as my CCW. Same setup as the rifle - .410 or .45 Colt, six rounds.”
Third policed up his empty rounds, put his rifle into its case, checked for anything he left, and went out into the lobby area with Maria.
“Got time for a coffee?” Maria asked as Third settled up with the owner.
“I was going to have an early lunch after this. Would you like to join me over at Bachi Burger?” Third asked.
“I’d love to, John,” Maria replied with a smile. “I’ll follow you over.”
Third followed Maria towards the door. He waved to the range owner, who returned the wave and then gave him a thumbs up with a big smile.
I wonder what all that was about, Third thought, as he happily and appreciatively followed Maria out the door.
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 22, 2016 15:41:13 GMT -6
Welderman – Chapter 5
Over lamb burgers and salt & pepper garlic fries at the Bachi Burger, a couple miles south of McCarran International, Third and Maria chatted and got to know each other. Maria was, like Third, a native Las Vegan, which was an increasing rarity in Las Vegas; everyone seemed to be from somewhere else. She was two years younger than Third and had graduated from Las Vegas High as well, two years after Third had, and only had a couple of acquaintances in common. Her father had owned a landscape company in North Las Vegas for many years, which he had sold the year before he passed away. Her mother was retired from housekeeping at the MGM. Maria was a radiology technologist in North Las Vegas and shared the family home with her mother, whom she helped care for.
Third was reluctant to talk about his family, but Maria’s kind heart led him to open up. As he went through losing his parents, Maria’s face grew still. When he described the accident that took his grandparents, her eyes teared up and she placed her hand on his.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump that all on you on our ‘first date’, so to speak,” Third said quietly. “I guess I’ve gathered up a fair bit of baggage the last 20 years. But you’re so easy to talk to. In fact, aside from my union delegate, I haven’t talked to anyone about all of this.”
“Don’t apologize, John,” Maria replied, still holding Third’s hand across the table, stroking it gently with her thumb. “I’m honored you would share something like that with me.”
Eventually, Third paid the tab and the two headed out to the parking lot where they were parked side by side.
“Quite the car there, John,” Maria said, pointing to the gleaming black Cadillac parked next to her . “Why a ‘69 Coupe de Ville?”
“That was the first brand new car my father ever owned. He courted my mother in it. She refused to drive it after he passed, so my grandfather put it in storage, where it sat until his passing. I needed something to occupy my time so I started to restore it, piece by piece. Everything’s original, aside from some things that had to be replaced. Gorgeous, isn’t she?”
“Very much so,” said Maria. “I rather think I’m going to have a rival for your affections.”
Without hesitation, Third replied, “No, I don’t really think you will.” They both blushed at the same time.
Maria walked over to her pickup and unlocked the door. Third, wondering if he had said the wrong thing, held the door open and closed it after her. She rolled down the window.
“May I call you sometime, Maria?” Third asked, ready to apologize if he had somehow misread the situation.
Maria smiled and opened her purse, taking out a business card and a pen. She scribbled a couple of lines on the back and handed it to Third. “There! Now you’ve got my work, home and cell numbers as well as my personal e-mail, so you’ve got no excuse not to call or write.”
Third took the card and carefully put it in his wallet, then borrowed her pen and wrote his information down on the back of another of her cards. She took the card and with equal care put it in her wallet.
“Well, John,” Maria said as she put the keys in the ignition. “Thank you for some fun at the range and a most enjoyable lunch. Please don’t be a stranger.”
Third leaned in and shared a brief kiss. “The last thing I would do to you, m’lady, is be a stranger.”
Maria smiled, started the engine of her Toyota pickup, and slowly pulled away, glancing back in her rear-view mirror a couple of times before she turned and went out of sight.
Third stood there for at least a minute, leaning against his Cadillac, with a smile on his face, the likes of which had not been there for a very long time.
* * *
Third and Maria began seeing each other a couple of times a week – always on the range on Saturday, followed by lunch; and usually once mid-week, depending on their individual work schedules. About a month after their first date, Maria invited Third to come to her place for dinner with her mother. Jobita Diaz may not have been in the best physical health, but her mind was sharp as a tack, and she was very protective of her daughter, as her polite but pointed questioning showed.
At one point, Jobita excused herself to use the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, Maria leaned towards Third and in a half-whisper said, “I’m sorry about the third degree. Mom’s kinda taking over what Dad would have done were he here.”
“Not a thing in the world to apologize for, Maria,” Third replied. “Though if I ever pull up to the curb and see her sitting in a rocking chair on the porch with a shotgun, I’m not getting out, ok?”
“Very wise on your part, good sir, but I don’t think you’ll ever do something to deserve that,” Maria said. “If you do, however, it won’t be my mother you’ll have to be afraid of.”
Point taken and received, Third thought, as they shared a kiss before Jobita returned.
“Hija,” Jobita said, “I’m not feeling just so. I’m going to lay down for a few minutes. You two enjoy dessert.” She looked at Third, who had stood when she returned to the dining room. “You’re a good man, Juan. I trust you.”
“Gracias, Mrs. Diaz,” Third replied, taking her hand and kissing it.
“Such a gentleman you have here, hija! Good night.”
Maria told Third to take his coffee and relax on the patio, that she was going to help her mother get ready for bed.
A few minutes later, Maria returned and the two sat close, holding hands and enjoying a soft breeze.
Third was getting ready to call it an evening when he thought he heard a noise from inside the house.
“Did you hear that, Maria?”
“Hear what, John?” was her reply, obviously meaning she hadn’t.
“I thought I heard a kind of thudding noise, like somebody dropped a big book. Maybe we better check on your mother.”
Without replying, Maria ran inside the house, Third a couple steps behind. Maria tried to open her mother’s bedroom door but something was blocking it. “I think it’s Mama, John!” Maria said, on the verge of panic.
“Is her window open?” Third asked quietly, placing a hand on Maria’s shoulder to try and calm her a bit.
“Probably so, she likes the fresh air if it isn’t too hot. Why?”
“I’m going to go around the outside and climb in,” Third replied. “You better call 911 and get an ambulance rolling, just to be on the safe side. Do you have a flashlight handy?”
“Top drawer closest to the refrigerator. Would you bring me the cordless phone from the kitchen?”
Third did both and walked quickly to the front door, breaking into a run as soon as he was out of Maria’s sight. It was indeed Jobita on the floor, unconscious, blood coming from a wound on her forehead.
Third climbed through the window and carefully moved Jobita, trying to keep her head and neck straight. “Maria, come in slowly. Bring a first-aid kit, too. Did you call 911?”
“Ambulance is on the way,” Maria said softly as she slowly opened the door, a red nylon bag in her left hand. She gasped as she saw Jobita unconscious on the floor. “Mama! Que pasa?”
“I think she tried to get out of bed, and either slipped or passed out, hitting her forehead on the way down,” Third replied, pointing to the nightstand. The sound of sirens grew closer. “Look, you stay here with your mom, I’ll go outside and direct the paramedics in here.” Third stood and carefully stepped over Jobita’s legs and around Maria.
“John! She’s stopped breathing!” Maria yelled and checked her neck. “No pulse, either! Tell the paramedics Code Blue!” Maria began CPR on her mother.
Third ran for the front door, stumbling and banging into a closet door knob on the way. He could see the ambulance pulling up out front and the paramedics getting out as he ran through the front door. “Code Blue! Female in her 80s, fell and hit her head!”
The paramedics grabbed gear from their vehicle and ran for the house, Third directing them to the back bedroom. Maria was performing CPR compressions on her mother’s inert form. The second paramedic, a female, was standing in the bedroom doorway when Third caught up and said quietly, “Maria’s a radiology tech. That’s her mother.” The paramedic nodded and said, “We’ll do our best.”
For several minutes they worked on Jobita, at one point shocking her twice with the defibrillator. Maria let out a little gasp each time they shocked her mother, knowing that it wasn’t looking good.
The female paramedic asked Third to give her a hand with the gurney. Maria stood in the hallway to one side of the door, watching the male paramedic work as Third and the female ran for the ambulance.
As they pulled the gurney out of the ambulance, Third asked the paramedic, “How bad?” She replied, as they rolled the gurney to the front door at a dead run, “Bad. I think she’s gone, but we try, y’know?” Third nodded and they rolled the gurney to the back bedroom.
The female asked Third and Maria to step back and they did so, Maria sobbing but calm as Third, his eyes watering, held onto her shoulders.
Third and Maria followed the gurney at a dead run out to the ambulance, Maria climbing in after her mother and the male paramedic.
“We’re taking her to UMC – you know the way?” the female paramedic asked Third as she closed the back doors.
“I know it,” Third replied. “Any chance for her?”
The female paramedic paused briefly, shook her head without speaking, and ran for the driver’s door. Third stood behind the ambulance, looking in the back window as Maria, holding her mother’s hand, looked up. He placed his hand on the window, and saw Maria raise hers, just as the ambulance pulled away.
Third quickly secured the house and jumped in his Cadillac, following the ambulance on the 10-minute trip to University Medical Center. He arrived less than a minute after the ambulance did, mainly by breaking nearly every traffic law in Clark County and the State of Nevada, just in time to see the gurney roll into the ER doors. Maria saw him running towards her and paused.
“She’s still Code Blue, Juan,” Maria wailed, using the Spanish for “John,” as Jobita had before collapsing. “I’m going to lose her!”
Third held Maria and helped her into the ER lobby, where they sat for what seemed forever, but was only about twenty minutes. An Indian man in scrubs came out and asked for Maria.
“Miss,” the doctor began, “I’m Doctor Gupta. I was on duty when your mother came in. I’m afraid we were unable to resuscitate her.”
“What happened?” Maria asked, her voice soft but even. “She wasn’t feeling well after dinner and went to lay down. We were sitting outside when John heard a noise and we found her on the floor of the bedroom.”
“We think your mother suffered a severe stroke. She might have realized something was wrong and tried to get up. I’m so very sorry. Would you like a moment with her?” Maria nodded and the three walked through the swinging doors and into ER 1.
“I’ll be right here, Maria,” Third said, wanting to give her some privacy for this last moment.
“No, no, stay with me, Juan, please?” grasping his hand to tight it actually hurt.
“Of course I will, I won’t leave you or your mom for a moment.”
Maria and Third stepped up to the side of the ER bed. A nurse disconnected a monitor.
“Oh, Mama, why now, when things are so good?” Maria asked as she squeezed Third’s hand, knowing her mother would never answer. The two stood at Jobita’s bedside until Dr. Gupta returned. Maria slipped her mother’s wedding ring from her right hand. Third stood silently, then bent down to hold Jobita’s right hand with Maria.
“Let me take you home, Maria,” Third said. “Do you have someone to stay with you?”
“Will you stay, John? I know it’s a lot to ask, we’re still new together...”
“Maria, I’ll be by your side for as long as you want me. Let’s go now.”
Third nodded to the doctor as they left ER 1 and then paused. “Will it be ok if we call you tomorrow morning with the, um, arrangements?”
Dr Gupta nodded. “Just call the main switchboard and they’ll direct your call. Take care of your wife now.”
She’s not my wife, Third almost said, instead just nodding as Maria and Third walked to his Caddy in the parking lot.
|
|
|
Post by 9idrr on Jul 22, 2016 15:44:31 GMT -6
So, does this mean that chicks dig long guns? My wife's partial to revolvers.
Bad timing on my part, BA65. I posted this, I thought, after the previous chapter, just as you posted Ch. 5.
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 22, 2016 16:01:16 GMT -6
So, does this mean that chicks dig long guns? My wife's partial to revolvers. Bad timing on my part, BA65. I posted this, I thought, after the previous chapter, just as you posted Ch. 5. No worries - and I think it's more the skill of the shooter than the size of the gun.
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 22, 2016 20:13:05 GMT -6
Welderman – Chapter 6
It was nearly midnight by the time Third pulled up to Maria’s house. The slight bump as he entered the driveway was enough to wake her up.
“Oh, we’re home,” Maria said as she yawned. “I … don’t suppose that was … all a dream?”
Third shook his head as turned off the engine and the headlights. “I wish to God it had been. I’m sorry, Maria. I’ll walk you in and head home.”
“Please don’t,” she replied as she took his hand. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I haven’t lived alone in … well, forever.”
“Let’s get you inside, Maria. I think you’re … asleep on your feet right now.” Until his dying days, Third would thank God that he didn’t say “dead on your feet” as he was about to.
Third got a bag from the trunk of the Cadillac, then opened her door and helped her out. Together, they walked up to the door and went inside.
A blinking light flashed in the darkness from Maria’s answering machine. She flipped on a light, walked over to the machine and pressed “Play.” As Third closed and bolted the front door, a voice filled the room.
“Hey Mama, Maria, it’s Jose. Just wanted to make sure we’re still on for dinner tomorrow night. I’m guessing you both went to bed early so give me a call tomorrow morning. Thanks, bye!”
“My older brother, I mentioned him at the range the other day,” Maria said quietly. “Oh Lord, I’ve got to call him and tell him about Mama.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes.
“Do you want to call him tonight or wait until morning?” Third asked.
“I better do it now. Jose’s a good brother, but he can be kind of … well, prickly sometimes,” Maria explained. “Especially if he thinks he’s being left out of things. It’s a long story.”
“I’ll get some coffee going and let you talk to him,” Third said as he walked in to the kitchen. “I suspect we won’t be getting much sleep tonight.”
Maria nodded, sat down heavily on a stool at the built-in breakfast bar and speed-dialed a number on the cordless phone. A minute later, Maria began talking, breaking the news to her brother. Even from across the kitchen, Third could hear the animal-like screams, followed by crying, that came from the handset. Eventually, Maria hit the exit button on the handset and hung it back up on the base station.
“He’s coming right over. I told him not to, that there was no point, but he insisted,” Maria explained as Third handed her a coffee mug. “He lives about 20 minutes away, but I suspect he’ll be here in 10.”
Third nodded. “About the way I drove following the ambulance to UMC earlier. I, um, heard how he took the news.”
Maria smiled thinly. “He can be volatile sometimes, usually not in a bad way.”
“Do you think he’ll be upset at finding me here? Especially at this time of night. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for your family tonight.”
“John, you tried to save my mother’s life. His mother’s.” Another thin smile. “I suspect you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kiss you on the lips.”
“I’m flattered.” Third took a sip of his coffee. “Anyone else you need to call tonight?”
Maria shook her head. “Jose’s the only real family I have left now. A couple of distant relatives on my dad’s side are still around, but we haven’t heard from them since he passed.”
Third headed into the living room and sat down on a sofa. Maria joined him and took his hand. They sat in silence for ten minutes until they heard a car roar up out front and screech to a halt, followed by a car door opening and slamming shut.
Maria said, “That’ll be Jose” and rose to open the door. The knocking – banging, some would say – started just as she put her hand on the deadbolt knob. A few seconds later, the door flew open and Maria hugged her brother, the both of them now sobbing and trying to talk. Third carried his and Maria’s mugs into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Maria and Jose, still sobbing, followed him in.
“Jose, this is John, the man I was telling you about. John, this is my older brother, Jose.”
Third held out his hand and started to speak but was enveloped in a bear hug that brought about renewed sobbing and crying from everyone.
After a minute or so, Jose released Third from his embrace and took his hand. “My sister told me what you did, how much Mama enjoyed your visit. Thank you.”
“I won’t say it was my pleasure, but I’m glad I was here to help.”
The three sat up until the early hours of the morning, Jose and Maria swapping stories and sharing memories of their mother. Third was getting a crash course on Jobita, and in the process gaining insights into Maria that might have taken him years to learn, if indeed he ever did.
By two AM, it was clear everyone was struggling to stay awake. Jose took the guest bedroom, and Maria went to her own bedroom. Third kicked off his shoes and laid down on the sofa with a blanket and pillow, after setting his watch alarm for 7 AM. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Third heard a buzzing noise and opened his eyes. It took him a minute to remember where he was and why. Turning the alarm off, he stretched and stood up, folding the blanket and placing the pillow on top of it. Picking up his bug-out bag, which had among many things basic toiletries and a change of clothes, he found the bathroom and washed up quickly and, he hoped, quietly.
After his morning ablutions, Third went out to the kitchen and put a new pot of coffee on and then looked for the trash bags. Finding them under the sink, he went to Jobita’s bedroom and cleaned up everything the paramedics had left behind. Some of the blood from Jobita’s head injury had stained the carpet, and Third used a wet kitchen towel to clean it up the best he could.
A thud at the front door announced the arrival of the morning paper. Third brought it in and glanced at the headlines but pushed it aside. He decided to fix some breakfast, assuming that Jose and Maria would be up soon. He was just buttering the toast while keeping a weather eye on the scrambled eggs when he heard movement in the back of the house. By the time he had everything on the table, Jose and Maria were both padding down the hall half-asleep and drawn by the smell of hot food and coffee.
“John, you’re being too good to me!,” Maria said, taking his hand at the table. “I’m sure you must have things to do today.”
“Nothing that can’t wait for a while,” Third replied. “I guess you two have a lot to do today, though. Which reminds me, I told the ER doctor last night that we’d – well, you – would call this morning with arrangements, what funeral home to contact, etc.”
“Mama had a prepaid plan for cremation with some group,” Jose mentioned. “I can’t remember the name, I’m sure it’s in her papers...”
“The Neptune Society?” Third suggested. “I have a prepaid plan with them myself.”
“That’s it! Thank you, Juan,” Jose explained, becoming the third Diaz in the last twelve hours to use the Spanish form of his name. “Mama told me once the information was in her address book.”
“I know right where that is,” Maria exclaimed. “I’ll bring it right back and call them in a few minutes.”
There was no answer at the Neptune Society’s office, which was no surprise on a Sunday morning. Maria left a message and received a return call within the hour from a staffer who took her information, verified it against their computer records, and said she would contact the hospital directly to make arrangements.
Jose excused himself to take a shower and get dressed, giving Third and Maria a few minutes alone.
After clearing the table, Third and Maria sat quietly, holding hands.
“You’ll never know how much all you’ve done in the last 12 hours has meant to me, John,” Maria spoke softly. “Last night here, then the hospital, staying over, the breakfast … and the cleaning up of Mama’s room. I was glad not to have to see that this morning.”
“I remember all that mess from when my mother died at my grandparents’ place,” Third said. “Nobody needs to wake up to that kind of thing.”
“I’m glad I didn’t. Now, you should be getting home and get some rest yourself. There’s not much else we can do for now.”
“Yeah, that’s probably not a bad idea. I’m thinking you and Jose need some time alone too.” Third stood and put an arm around Maria’s shoulders as she stood and hugged him.
“Say, Maria, I had a thought. Your mom worked at the MGM Grand, right?” Third asked.
“Yes, she was a housekeeper with them for, oh, close to thirty years,” Maria answered.
“And she got a pension through the union? Do you remember the local number?”
“It should be right here in her address book,” Maria replied. “Let’s see… ah, here we go, Culinary Workers Union Local 226. They handled her health insurance as well, for retirees.”
Third made a note on a kitchen pad and tore off the sheet. “I’m going to call Andy Simone when I get home. He’s been a family friend for decades and helped me a lot when I was with Local 88 as a welder. He must know someone at 226; maybe he can speed things up for you a bit, see what benefits are coming.”
Third picked up his BOB from beside the couch and walked with Maria to the front door, holding her hand.
“This may sound strange, Maria, but I’m glad I was hear last night. I got a chance to meet your mom, even if it was only for a little while. And I met your brother. And I was able to help out, just a little.”
“I’m glad you were here too. I’ll never be able to tell you how much it meant to me.” She kissed him on the lips. “Drive safe.”
“I’ll call you when I get home,” Third said, “and when I know about the union stuff.”
Third kissed here again and walked to his Cadillac, tossing BOB in the back seat and climbing in the front. He waved as he was backing out and again as he drove away. Maria stood in the doorway until he was out of sight, turned, and went inside to deal with her first full day without her mother.
|
|
|
Post by 9idrr on Jul 22, 2016 21:34:15 GMT -6
I like the way this is going.
|
|
|
Post by ydderf on Jul 22, 2016 22:12:10 GMT -6
I heartily agree with 9idrr. Thank you Bruce. !
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 23, 2016 19:31:56 GMT -6
Welderman – Chapter 7
The next week was a blur for both Third and Maria. Third got on the phone with Andy Simone just after he got home about Jobita’s death benefits from Local 226. As expected, Andy knew somebody, and Maria received a call the next day with everything she needed to know about benefits. In addition, the local sent a beautiful wreath to the funeral, as did the MGM Grand, where Jobita had spent more than two decades on the housekeeping staff.
Third walked a fine line in trying to be there for Maria, but at the same time giving her space and not wanting to interfere or be in the way. He and Maria talked on the phone every morning, and in the evening when he wasn’t over there. Third brought pizza over for dinner one night and was stunned at the sight of her refrigerator full of casseroles and a counter full of baskets bearing various foodstuffs.
“Mama’s friends,” Maria said, gesturing to the counter and fridge. “From the church, friends, even some old co-workers at the MGM.”
Services were held on Wednesday, May 27th at St. John Neumann Catholic Church, with a reception following in the church’s community room. Jobita had attended Mass there for nearly 20 years, and many of her friends volunteered at the reception. Third, in a black suit and tie, was at Maria’s side the entire day, at her request – even sitting in the reserved family area, with Jose on the other side of her. Word had apparently gotten around about Third’s efforts on the night of Jobita’s death, and more than a few of her friends thanked him for trying.
Finally, the day’s activities were over, and Third drove Maria and Jose back to the house, the back of his Cadillac (which he had had specially washed, polished and detailed for the occasion) filled with floral arrangements from the church. Once the car was unloaded, Jose embraced both Maria and Third and went home, leaving the two of them alone for the first time that day.
They were both drained, physically and emotionally, and did little more than sit on the patio with a cold drink for an hour or so – holding hands, rarely speaking, both lost in their thoughts. Finally, Third got up and rattled around in the kitchen for a while, bringing out a platter of finger foods from all the gifts Maria had received over the week, along with a pitcher of iced tea. Neither had much of an appetite but both forced themselves to eat something, talking as they picked at the food.
“Have you thought a bout what you’ll do now, Maria?” Third asked.
“Well, the house is paid for – Dad made sure of that when he sold his business. I don’t have to be back at work until Monday, so I guess I’ll just hang around the house until then.”
Third took a chance. “Maria, would you like to come out to my house in Mountain Springs for a few days, say, until Sunday afternoon?”
At what he thought was a questioning look on her face, Third hurriedly said, “No funny business or anything – I just thought maybe a couple days, change of scenery...”
To Third’s surprise, Maria laughed and smiled. “I’d love to, John,” she said, adding, “I didn’t think you were implying anything, either. You’re not that kind of guy.”
John stayed at Maria’s house that night, sleeping on the couch as before. The next morning Maria packed a suitcase for a few days, she and Third loaded some of the many gifts of food into the Caddy’s back seat and they headed for Mountain Springs.
Maria fell in love with John’s place from the moment she saw it. She loved the stone walkways, the flagstone patio, huge wooden beams and the open layout inside.
“John, it’s gorgeous!” Maria exclaimed as they walked into the living room. “That fireplace – it’s huge!”
“Granddad built that, with my dad’s help – and that of a couple of his buddies from the Bricklayers Union,” Third told her with pride. “When I told you that granddad built his retirement home, I meant it. He worked on every part of it – and what he didn’t or couldn’t do, he had a friend from one union or another who took care of it. I think nearly every union in Las Vegas worked on a piece of this place.”
“How could your granddad afford such a big … oh, I’m sorry, John, that’s none of my business,” Maria apologized, almost in tears.
Third laughed and put an arm around her shoulders. “No need to apologize, hon – it’s okay,” Third reassured her. “He and Katie lived comfortably but frugally, they saved a lot, invested well, and the union pension and benefits, well, that helped too.”
Third walked Maria through the living room and out onto the back patio. “When the weather was just right, Granddad would grill up some steaks and we’d sit out here to eat. Then he and I would sit out on the front porch with a good cigar and a drink of whiskey and talk or just listen to the wildlife.” There was a catch in Third’s voice as he thought about those many nights with his granddad.
Third felt Maria’s hand on his shoulder. “Let’s wander around out here. What’s out this direction?” she asked, pointing to the south.
“Just desert and mountains. Granddad bought 20 acres adjoining this lot, so most of what you’re looking at out here is his – well, mine.”
The two walked around the property for nearly an hour, finally coming back to the front porch.
“Here, let’s sit down for a bit. Want a Coke or something?”
“Ice water would be perfect, maybe with a twist of lemon, please?” Maria asked as she sat down in the chair that Senior always used to use.
“Your request is my command, young lady,” Third said with a sweeping bow. “Un minuto, por favor.”
Third returned, in a little more than a minute, with a tray bearing a pitcher of ice water and two glasses, one with a slice of lemon in it and both with ice.
“Warm for this time of year,” Third commented as he poured water for Maria and himself and sat down in his chair, feet up on the railing, as he sat so often with his Granddad.
Maria had her shoes off and her feet up on the chair opposite and studied Third out of the corner of her eye. He looked so right sitting there, feet up, surveying the mountains to the east. And, she realized, as they sat, holding hands, she felt so right at his side.
The next three days were the best Maria could remember for a very long time. They went walking (darn near mountain climbing, Maria thought) every morning when it was cool and ate most of their meals outside on the back patio. Every evening they sat on the front porch, as Third and his grandfather had, Third with a drop of whiskey and a cigar, Maria with the whiskey and a water back.
They drove into Enterprise Saturday morning for their now-traditional range-and-lunch date. Both got in some range time with their concealed carry weapons (Maria: Smith & Wesson 638; Third: Smith & Wesson Governor), followed by lunch at Bachi Burger, Third’s favorite place to eat and scene of their first lunch date.
“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Maria asked, as Third headed back to Mountain Springs. “I didn’t see anything defrosting in the fridge before we left.”
“That’s because there isn’t anything defrosting. How do you feel about a pig roast?” Third asked, with a grin on his face.
“But you don’t have a pig.”
“Never said I did,” Third said. “But Leadfather does.”
“Did you say Leadfeather?”
“No, Leadfather,” Third corrected her. “That’s his biker name; I’ve never heard him called anything else. He runs a biker bar the other side of the highway called, sensibly enough, the Mountain Springs Saloon. Last Saturday of the month during the summer, he hosts a Pig Roast. Ten bucks gets you a plate, a drink, and a raffle ticket, plus good music. I’m not a big drinker, for obvious reasons, but the pig is worth the ten bucks alone.”
Maria’s eyes were wide. “I didn’t know you were a biker.”
“I’m not,” Third replied, as he pulled into the driveway, “but Granddad used to ride some. The guys he rode with from Vegas would come up to the Saloon for lunch. Granddad and Leadfather became fast friends. It was Leadfather who suggested Granddad retire up here.”
“And your grandmother was okay with all this? Retirement advice from a biker?”
“Don’t let appearances deceive you: He’s a gentleman to the core. They were in there for dinner one Saturday night, and a young biker passing through started mouthing off, really nasty stuff, from what Granddad told me. Leadfather gave the kid one warning, then kicked his backside halfway to Vegas with a loaded bat he kept under the bar. Leadfather came back in, washed his hands, and then apologized to Katie for the disturbance. They never had any trouble again.”
“Sounds like this will be an interesting evening, John,” Maria remarked as they walked in the front door. “Or the last time I see you, depending on how things go.”
Third closed the door and took Maria in his arms. “Oh, I don’t think it’ll be the last time we see each other.”
“No, I don’t either,” Maria whispered as she leaned into kiss him.
Luckily for both of them, it turned out to be an interesting evening. Leadfather greeted Third like a long-lost son and treated Maria like a daughter. At one point, one of the regulars got a little mouthy over a disagreement with another biker. Leadfather walked over and whispered something in the mouthy guy’s ear. The guy’s face grew pale and he nodded. A minute later, he was at Third and Maria’s table, apologizing for his big mouth. The biker shook hands with both of them, and then practically ran for the door. Third looked at Leadfather, who only smiled and nodded his head.
The high point of the evening was the raffle for cash prizes at 9 PM. To her utter amazement, Maria won a hundred dollars, to applause and raucous but good-natured chants of “Newbie, newbie!”.
Third and Maria headed for the door about 9:30 PM, pausing to say goodbye to Leadfather.
“Always glad to see you in here, Third,” Leadfather said, shaking Third’s hand. “Ma’am - Maria, wasn’t it? - a pleasure to make you acquaintance, even if you’re hanging around with this big lug. You're a lucky lady. Hope you’ll both come back soon.”
They began the walk back to Third’s home, which was less than a mile away and across the two-lane highway.
“John, did I drink too much or did he call you Third back there?” Maria asked with a smile.
Third adjusted the mini-Maglight he was carrying, as much to make himself and Maria visible to any passing cars as to light their path.
“He called me Third, all right. My granddad and my dad and I all have the same name: John Welderman. Somebody’d yell for John and three of us would answer. So Granddad became Senior, and my dad was Junior, and, well, I’m Third.”
Maria laughed and squeezed Third’s hand. “I love that nickname – it’s just perfect!”
Third smiled at her happiness. “I didn’t much care for it myself, at least growing up. I got into more than a few fistfights in school over it. Only my closest friends call me Third – Leadfather and Andy Simone from my union.”
“May I call you Third too?” Maria asked as they turned from the highway shoulder to Third’s street.
“Like I said, only my closest friends do.” He paused for a moment. “And you outrank both of them, so I guess you’d better.”
Maria stopped, placed a hand on his chest and kissed him. “Thank you, Third.”
|
|
|
Post by 9idrr on Jul 23, 2016 21:06:28 GMT -6
This is goin' great, so based on your past stories, I'm fastenin' my seat belt for the next curve you throw us.
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 23, 2016 21:38:33 GMT -6
This is goin' great, so based on your past stories, I'm fastenin' my seat belt for the next curve you throw us. My muse is in the bullpen, warming up her wicked curve ball. Possibly a changeup, but most likely El Curvo...
|
|
|
Post by ydderf on Jul 23, 2016 22:04:44 GMT -6
Bruce just so long as your muse stays away from knuckle balls!! Thanks for the update. Fred
|
|
|
Post by 9idrr on Jul 24, 2016 14:24:40 GMT -6
Hey,ydderf, are those another form of mountain oysters?
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 24, 2016 16:09:15 GMT -6
Welderman – Chapter 8
Third and Maria’s relationship continued happily along through the summer. They usually saw each other at least three times a week and started spending every weekend together, alternating at his house and hers. Third and Jose became friends as well; they’d never been enemies, but there was at first a whiff of big brother protectiveness around Jose, at least until he was sure that Third’s intentions were honorable. Honorable they were; indeed, Third had already done some ring-shopping at the Tiffany’s Store inside the Bellagio.
Maria had to take a Continuing Education course to maintain her Radiology Administrator certification the second weekend in September, leaving Third with a free weekend on his hands, somewhat of a novelty since he had met Maria. Third decided to take advantage of his free weekend and go through his preps for two reasons: (1) he’d gotten lazy on maintaining his preps since he’d met Maria and (2) if he was going to propose to Maria, he wanted to double everything he had to provide for her if, as his grandmother Katie used to say, “the fit hit the shan.”
Third was surprised that he hadn’t bought anything in terms of long-term storage (LTS) foods for more than six months, which meant he hadn’t been rotating his oldest LTS foods out of storage for that long, either. Third shook his head at his negligence and made a note on his tablet to put an order in to Emergency Essentials after lunch.
The ammunition situation was nearly as bad; he’d been going through more .410 and .45 Colt ammo since he’d been shooting every Saturday with Maria and hadn’t ordered more. Third wasn’t short of ammunition by any means, having a couple cases for every weapon he owned; but the supply of .45 Colt and .410 was lower than he liked, and he had no .38 Special ammo at all, for Maria’s concealed carry weapon. Another note on the tablet: Call Ammo Supply Warehouse in Pahrump for a pickup order of .38 Special and .45 Colt ammo (several cases of each), and call Lucky Gunner for the .410 shells in both slug & 00 buckshot (ASW never seemed to have .410 in stock).
Third passed the rest of the morning in the shelter: testing the generator (which was set up to provide backup power to the house as well as power the shelter), inspecting the fuel and water supplies, replacing the filters on the air filtration unit, ad the like. Finally, about noon, Third closed up the shelter and went to his desk to order the various supplies and such he needed.
He contacted Emergency Essentials first and ordered a Variety 2000 package (one year of freeze-dried food with a free 320-gallon water reserve combo included) and a one-year supply of MREs. With the size of the order, and Third’s record as a customer, Emergency Essentials agreed to free rush-shipping and said he should have the order by the following Saturday.
Third’s next call was to Ammo Supply Warehouse in Pahrump. To his utter surprise, they had everything he wanted in stock. He ordered ten cases of .45 Colt, twenty cases of .410 (split between 00 buckshot and slug), and twenty cases of .38 Special. The clerk asked him to repeat the quantities, thinking he had misspoken and wanted boxes, not cases. Third quickly disabused him of that notion and was offered free shipping for the confusion, which he gratefully accepted (since the order weighed more than a ton). It was a short run (Pahrump to Mountain Springs was a 40-minute run), but would require a driver and assistant. Delivery was agreed for next Saturday.
I guess next Saturday would be a good time to tell Maria about the shelter, Third thought, since cases of ammo and freeze-dried food showing up would get her attention. Well, might as well make it an even bigger day.
His next call was to the Tiffany Store at the Bellagio, followed by a heads-up call to Maria’s brother.
Friday evening, September 18, 2020
Maria had come out to Third’s place straight from work to maximize their time together, since the previous weekend had been interrupted.
She was surprised when Third wasn’t waiting for her at the front door. Instead, she found a note: Come on in. I’m out back.
Intrigued, she pushed the door open, sat her bag down in the entry way, and walked through to the back patio. What she saw took her breath away.
The patio table was covered with a white linen tablecloth. Two place settings were accented by two candles and a single red rose across Maria’s plate. A silver bucket had champagne on ice.
Third was standing at the barbecue, putting a couple of amazing-looking steaks on the grill. He was wearing a dress shirt and slacks, with a barbecue apron over them.
“There she is! The most gorgeous mamacita in Vegas!” Third exclaimed as he practically ran to greet her.
“Oh, you!” Maria replied, once their kiss was broken. “Well, isn’t this elegant! I take it we’re staying in tonight?”
“She’s gorgeous and smart!” Third exclaimed. “How did I ever get so lucky?”
“I ask myself that every time I see you, Third,” Maria replied. “This looks beautiful out here! Can I help you in any way?”
“I’m good out here with the steak and potatoes. Would you mind putting oil and vinegar on the salad and tossing it? Everything’s on the counter, and the salad’s in the fridge.”
With a quick kiss on the lips, Maria went inside and was back in a few minutes with a beautiful green salad in a polished teak bowl.
“Perfect timing, my dear,” Third said as he sat a plate down in front of her. “Dinner is served.”
“My goodness! Rib-eye steak, baked potato, green beans and salad. Plus champagne!” Maria exclaimed. “Who are you and what have you done with Third?”
“I’m his younger and much more handsome brother, Fourth,” Third said with a straight face as he sat down with his plate.
“Oh, I agree, you are much more handsome,” Maria replied. “But I think I prefer Third. He’s broken in and comfortable, like an old pair of shoes.”
Third jumped up and ran around the corner of the house. For half a second Maria wondered if she’d pushed the joke too far, until Third came back, minus his BBQ apron.
“Ok, I’m back,” Third said as he sat down. “Who were you talking to?”
Third and Maria both roared with laughter as he popped open the champagne, filling their glasses. “A toast,” Third said. “To us, always and forever.”
“To us,” Maria echoed, “always and forever.”
A little while later
Third and Maria took their after-dinner coffee and sat on the front porch, Third skipping his whisky since he’d already had champagne with dinner.
“Third, that was absolutely perfect,” Maria said, taking his hand. “Thank you.”
“Well, there’s dessert later, if you’d like some,” Third offered, then blushed as he realized how his innocent remark could be misinterpreted.
“You are the sweetest man I’ve ever known, Third,” Maria said quietly, almost in a whisper. “I knew you meant dessert, not ‘dessert’,” making the air quote with the hand not holding Third’s.
“I can’t offer you a dinner like this every night, you know,” Third said, reaching into his pocket with his free hand.
“I wouldn’t want steak -” Maria started to say, falling silent as she understood the implication of Third’s remark.
Third’s hand came out of his pocket holding a small heart-shaped red leather box. He bent down in front of Maria on one knee, opening the box to reveal a Tiffany Princess Cut diamond engagement ring.
“I’ve never been happier in my life since I’ve met you,” Third said. “This Princess Cut is for my princess. Will you make me eternally happy and do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Third removed the ring from the case and placed it on the ring finger on her left hand.
Maria, her eyes full of joyful tears, whispered, “Yes, oh yes,” and threw herself into Third’s arms.
After a minute, Third and Maria stood up. “And tomorrow, there’s an even bigger surprise for you.”
“Bigger than an engagement ring from the love of my life?” Maria said playfully. “That’ll be some surprise.”
“Well,” Third backtracked, “maybe not bigger, but definitely a surprise.”
|
|
|
Post by 9idrr on Jul 24, 2016 16:57:30 GMT -6
This is goin' pretty good for what I assume is only about a tenth of the story. I hope. But, if'n you want to tell us that this ain't even one per cent of what you're gonna write this time, that's okay, too.
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 24, 2016 17:24:23 GMT -6
This is goin' pretty good for what I assume is only about a tenth of the story. I hope. But, if'n you want to tell us that this ain't even one per cent of what you're gonna write this time, that's okay, too. 20 to 25 percent through, I think. For some reason, thirty chapters seems to work for me. But who knows? We could go into extra innings.
|
|
|
Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jul 24, 2016 22:35:49 GMT -6
Welderman – Chapter 9
Saturday, September 19, 2020
Third was up before 6 AM; he knew he had a busy day ahead and wanted to be ready when the shipments from Emergency Essentials and Ammo Supply Warehouse arrived.
When Maria came padding out from her bedroom in a thick terrycloth bathrobe, it was just after 8 AM. Third was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper and drinking coffee while bacon sizzled behind him.
“Mmmm, what a lovely way to start the morning,” Maria said, standing beside Third and leaning in to kiss him. “My fiancee cooking breakfast for me. I could get used to this.”
“So could I, sweetie,” Third replied. “Now, if you will unhand me, I’ll get you some coffee and get the pancakes going.”
Maria smiled, kissed him once more, and sat down at the kitchen table. Third brought her a cup of coffee, just the way she liked it (black, two sugars) and turned to the electric griddle, ladling pancake batter onto the hot surface.
“So what’s this big surprise today?” Maria asked as she sipped her coffee and glanced at the paper.
“Ah, not so fast. Breakfast first. There’ll be plenty of time for everything else later,” Third said as he flipped the pancakes over. “I thought we might give the range a pass today.”
“Got something else in mind?” Maria tossed the paper aside and watched her husband-to-be working at the griddle, sliding four pancakes onto a plate along with three strips of bacon and setting it before her. “Those look perfect! Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Well, I wouldn’t recommend having me perform brain surgery,” Third admitted, “but I’m pretty good at most anything else.” Third filled his plate, turned off the griddle and sat down at Maria’s right.
By the time breakfast was finished and dishes done, it was nearly 9 AM. Rosa went to get showered and dressed; she had asked Third what to wear and he would only say “work clothes.”
A motorcycle roared up outside as Rosa came down the hallway, fastening the belt on her jeans. She was wearing a denim jacket over a t-shirt, jeans, and well-worn hiking boots.
“Muy bueno,” Third said appreciatively as he watched her walk towards him. “And just in time. The first part of the surprise just arrived.” A knock on the front door accented the point.
Third opened the door. There stood Leadfather from the Mountain Springs Saloon, a gorgeous classic Harley in the driveway behind him.
“Howdy, Lead,” Third said. “Thanks for coming up so early. Want some coffee or anything?”
“Nah, I’m good, Third, but thanks,” Leadfather replied. “Hello Maria, how’re you this morning?”
“Unbelievably good,” Maria said with a dazzling smile.
“She said yes, Third?” Leadfather glanced over at Third. His smile was answer enough.
“Well, in that case, I think a kiss for the bride-to-be is in order,” Leadfather replied as he took Maria’s hand and kissed it. “Anything more and I might have a problem with Third. Congratulations, Maria. You’re both very lucky.”
“Thank you, Leadfather,” Maria replied. She was going to say something else but the horns of two trucks, one UPS and one a plain white panel truck, interrupted the moment.
“Talk about timing!” Third exclaimed. “I’ll get the garage door open. Lead, would you ask the UPS guy to back up to the garage? If the Ammo guys have a handcart, they can start unloading and bring it in here.”
“Will do, Third!” Leadfather talked to the UPS and Ammo Supply Warehouse drivers as Third and Maria headed to the garage, and in short order boxes were coming off the back of both trucks and into the garage. Before long, both trucks had unloaded their cargo, turned around and headed back towards the highway.
Maria looked confused at all the boxes marked Ammo Supply Warehouse and Emergency Essentials. “Expecting World War III, Third? What is all this?”
“That was part two of the surprise,” Third said with a smile. “Part three is coming up. Or, rather, going down. Lead, let’s start loading these onto Senior’s Elevator.”
Maria, now thoroughly confused, could only ask “Senior’s … Elevator?”
Both men laughed kindly, and Leadfather explained. “Third’s granddad wanted to be able to move stuff from the garage to the basement so he had a large dumbwaiter put in. I was ribbing him about his ‘redneck elevator,’ and the elevator part stuck. So you have Senior’s Elevator.”
Third unlocked a panel-type door in the wall and opened it to reveal a dumbwaiter. “Electric powered, with a manual crank backup. Can carry up to a thousand pounds. Easier than carrying stuff by hand down the basement stairs.”
“I’d say it would be,” Maria replied, looking closely at the lift. “Ever had it break down on you?”
“Once, years ago, but that was our fault, Granddad and I overloaded it, trying to save time,” Third confessed. “Didn’t save us any time and cost us a lot of money to get it repaired. That became one of Granddad’s rules: Sometimes two trips are better than one.”
“Now, Lead, would you mind working things from up here? I’ll take Maria down to the basement and we’ll stack the boxes there until everything’s transferred down below.”
“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” Leadfather said as he started putting boxes of ammo in the lift. “Like Larry the Cable Guy said, ‘Let’s git ‘er done.’”
“Maria, you’re about to see something that only three people in the world know about: me, Leadfather, and Andy Simone,” Third said, as they walked down the hall, then down the basement stairs. “Aside from the company that built it, and that was more than 20 years ago. You’ll be number four to know.”
“Know about what, Third?” she asked, as he unlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs and flipped a switch.
“My goodness! You’re prepared for anything down here!” Maria exclaimed, looking at the row upon row of supplies on shelves around the basement walls. “Is this a bomb shelter?”
“No, it’s not a bomb shelter,” Third said, watching her face for a reaction. “At least, this part isn’t.
A bell interrupted their discussion. “The first load’s here, Maria. Would you mind giving me a hand? Let’s stack the ammo to the right, and the foodstuffs to the left, ok?”
Choking back her curiosity, which was now about to erupt, Maria nodded and followed Third to the lift panel.
The next hour or so was spent moving the dozens of boxes from the garage to the basement. When the last load came down the lift, Leadfather came down the basement stairs. “That’s everything except the water barrels. They won’t quite fit in the lift, so we’ll have to manhandle them down the stairs later.”
“Should we take a break or charge on through?” Third asked both Leadfather and Maria, and got a thumb’s up from Leadfather.
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” replied Maria.
“Now you get the rest of the surprise,” Third said with a smile. “Maria, do you see that can of Raid on the shelf? Over there to your right?” She nodded. “There’s a small metal lever behind it, that’s right. Pull that down all the way, please? Perfect! Now, if you would be so kind as to grab the corner of that shelving unit and pull.”
“I’m sorry, Third, did you say pull? Pull the shelving unit?” Maria looked confused.
“That’s right, grab it right there by the Raid can, and pull towards you, like you were opening a door. Because you are.”
Dutifully, Maria pulled, and the entire shelving unit opened like a door. A small light came on inside a recessed doorway, and Maria saw a metal door resembling a vault door.
“Let me give you a hand with that,” Third said as he stepped forward, spun the wheel to the left, opened the hatch and secured it open. Another light came on, revealing a narrow-ish, sloping pathway, about 20 feet long, leading to another hatch. “See if you can open that one, just like I did here.”
Maria walked down the pathway, Third and Leadfather behind her, until she reached the door. She spun the wheel as Third had on the first door, and while it took her a couple extra spins, the door opened easily.
“Madre Dios!” Maria explained. “It IS a bomb shelter!”
“We told Clark County it was an ‘emergency shelter’ for their paperwork,” Third explained, “but yes, it’s a bomb shelter. It can protect eight people from nuclear, biological and chemical hazards for up to a year.”
“So what’s all the extra food and ammunition for?” Maria asked, her eyes agog at the structure.
“For you,” Third said quietly, “God forbid we ever need it. I’m kinda old fashioned, Maria. I think it’s a man’s obligation to provide for his wife.” He smiled. “I was pretty sure you would agree to marry me, so I ordered extra of everything.”
“Oh, Third, it’s … I’m… oh, I love you,” Maria said, her eyes filling with tears as she hugged him. “I’ve done some things at home, but nothing on this scale.”
From behind, Leadfather coughed discreetly, not wanting to intrude. “Third, if you’re okay here, I’m gonna head back to the saloon. Big group coming in about noon, and then there’s tonight. You two gonna come by for dinner?”
“I think so, if that’s okay with the boss here,” Third replied. “What do you thin, Maria?”
“Sounds wonderful. Thanks Leadfather,” Maria said, walking over and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Leadfather blushed, which looked out of place on the grizzled features of the veteran biker and bar owner. “You’re very welcome, Maria. Pleasure to help you folks out. Third, take care. See ya tonight.”
“It looks like you have the same effect on Leadfather that you do on me,” Third observed. “Glad I found you first.”
“Oh I am too, good sir,” said Maria. “So what’s the plan now?”
“Well, if you don’t mind, we probably should move the ammo into the gun room. I don’t want to leave it in the basement, in case there’s a fire or someone gets in there.”
For the next hour, Third and Maria moved the fifty cases of ammo by handcart, four cases at a time, into the gun room – forget gun room, this is an armory, Maria thought – and organizing it by caliber and age, newer ammunition in back and older in front.
Finally finished, and tired from the morning’s work, Third closed up the shelter, rolled the shelving unit back in place and followed Maria up the basement stairs.
Conway Twitty was onto something with that song, Third thought as he watched Maria a few steps in front of him. Lord, I love that lady wearin’ tight fittin’ jeans.
|
|
|
Post by methos on Jul 24, 2016 23:08:06 GMT -6
I like the long character development. Keep up the good work. Flesh out those details.
|
|