GOING TO VISIT ELLIE

The gray house stood silent in the late afternoon cool as errant rays of sunlight breached the canopy of elm branches and highlighted the bumper sticker, fixed beside the back screen door, which read: JESUS--THE LIGHT AND THE WAY. The garage was set back completely in shadow, a backdrop to a white panel truck on blocks in the drive and an array of metal machine parts and barrels and cable. The traffic at the four-way stop, one lot down, was beginning to pick up, tires squealing, as rush hour approached.

Coming from the opposite direction, a service van, with the words CALVIN DRAIN CLEANING painted in red letters on the side, slowed and swung into the gravel driveway and parked behind the truck on blocks. The doors opened and two men emerged, both dressed in dark blue utility uniforms. The man who had been driving reached up under his gray beard and scratched his throat, then turned toward the other man.

"We got a good break on that last one," he said. "And he paid in cash, too. We was livin' right today, Bill." He laughed and drew his slender frame erect. His eyes were bright and as deeply blue as his uniform.

The other man flashed a youthful smile and nodded. Then, "What about tomorrow, John?" he asked.

"Well, we only got one job booked right now. I'm gonna visit Ellie this evening. Then I'll check with the answering service after the meeting and call ya."

"That'll work for me. Have a good evening, John."

"Blessings on ya, Bill."

The two men parted, the younger walking down the drive toward a rusty green Ford Escort parked across the street, the older man climbing the steps to the screen door as he fumbled with his key chain. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

He was met immediately beside the kitchen table by an energetic little gray schnauzer, whining and wagging her tail and jumping up against his leg.

"Hi, Misty, girl. You miss papa?" he said as he bent down and scratched the dog behind her ear. He walked to the side door and let the schnauzer out; she bounded down the wooden steps and onto the fenced-in lawn.

Leaving his boots by the door, he walked in his socks through the kitchen, past a 1940s-era portrait of a sailor and his bride, past the letter desk strewn with envelopes from the Meadows of Grace Nursing Facility, and into the main bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went and pitching it on the floor by the hamper. A framed print of Dürer's "The Praying Hands" hung by the towel cabinet.

He applied liquid soap to his palms and began scrubbing methodically with warm water all the way up to his elbows. It wouldn't do to go see Ellie with any grime of the drains still on his fingers. It was now especially important that he make clear the depth of his caring. And besides, he had some explaining to do and needed to be at his best. How he could have gotten lost bringing their Kansas City friends, Paul and Mary, to visit. He hadn't driven there before after dark and took the wrong road. Of course, the whole arrangement was still brand new. Ellie would understand. And he'd convey Mary's apologies.

He washed his face, rinsed his mouth out and combed his wiry gray hair, then splashed a dash of aftershave lotion on his beard. He paced into the bedroom and slipped off his work pants, reached into the closet and took out his navy-blue suit and white shirt. Even if he weren't going to the Christian Businessmen's Association supper meeting afterwards, he'd still wear that suit for Ellie. The navy blue was special to them both.

He finished dressing and sat down on the bed to pull on his shoes and slide up the knot in his tie. Paul had done the knot for him—a real beauty—when the tie was given as a Christmas gift.

He stood up and paused a moment with his head bowed before the painting that hung above the dresser, the image of Christ knocking at the door. Then he touched one hand to the Bible lying open on the night stand, turned and strode from the room.

The old Plymouth fired up on the third try, and he backed it carefully out around the two trucks and down the drive and onto Twelfth Street headed west. He braked at the stop sign, the evening sun in his eyes, and turned right. This was their favorite time of day. The early evening. The day's work done. Mashed potatoes and beef gravy and good-humored waitresses waiting at the American Legion. He'd have to remember to tell Ellie that Sarah had her baby.

He drove up and over the by-pass and down past the park with the ducks and swans and weeping willows. Past the new housing development and the Bethel Baptist Church. He slowed and took the right fork in the road—of course, it was easy to see in the daylight. The one with the arbor over on the right. It twisted and wound around a pasture hill before straightening out at the crown of the next rise beside the open gate. He turned in and followed the narrow asphalt up to a clump of cedars. There he parked, reached into the back seat for the silk bouquet and got out.

Down below in the fading light was the little pond Ellie loved. And the green timberline behind. He walked past the weathered gray headstones and up to the fresh mound of earth.

"Ellie, it's John," he said softly. "I came to see you." He moved closer.

The sun's rays were lower now, bathing the mound of earth and his blue suit in gold.

"Paul and Mary come through last weekend. I was bringin' them out, but we got lost in the dark. Wasn't that silly! They had this bouquet." He leaned down and placed the silk flowers at the edge of the mound. He stood a moment with his hands folded.

"Ellie," he said at last, "I just want you to know, everything's fine. I praise and thank God every day you're with the angels. I close my eyes and picture you in all that marvelous glory. Sleepin' in the sweet arms of Jesus. And my heart about busts with joy, Ellie. It truly does." He paused. The lengthening shadows gave back only silence.

He knelt down and pushed the fingers of one hand into the loose earth. He squeezed his hand shut and bits of dirt crumbled between his fingers. Suddenly, he sat down on the grass.

"Only thing, Ellie," he went on. "Sometimes in the morning, when the sun comes in that south window and hits your side of the bed . . . I miss ya, not being there. I surely do."

He rubbed the back of one hand against his cheek and looked down at the wet tear on his knuckles and then up at the heavens almost in puzzlement as if it had fallen from above like rain. He sat beside the mound of earth a few minutes more without speaking. Finally, he pushed himself back up onto his feet and brushed off his pant legs. Then he ambled slowly back to the Plymouth and got in.

By the time he had circled around and pulled back onto the road again, it was nearly dark, and he reached down and switched the headlights on. His night vision wasn't what it had once been, and so he drove deliberately and with a measured care. He crossed over the by-pass again and turned right at the next street and followed it down one block and turned into the asphalt parking lot of the American Legion building. He eased into an empty space near the sidewalk, got out and followed the lush, clipped shrubbery up to the awninged entrance and went in.

A middle-aged, balding man in a checkered sports jacket was talking with the headwaiter. He turned and extended his hand warmly as John approached. "John," he exclaimed. "It's good to see ya."

"Same here, brother," John replied, shaking the man's hand with vigor.

"We've got the big meeting room in back tonight, John."

"Thanks. I'll be along directly."

John stepped to the side in the dim light and edged between two tables and over toward a gray-haired, rotund lady seated at a piano. She was shuffling through a stack of sheet music and looked up and smiled when John stopped beside her.

"Well, if it ain't my favorite music maker," John declared. "Good to see you back, Bess."

"Well, John," the lady replied. "Don't you look dapper!" Then her smile abruptly faded to a frown. "John. I heard about Ellie. And I'm so sorry. She'll be thoroughly missed. We'd all hoped that...well..."

"Yes. I know. But it's a comfort to me knowing she's with Jesus." He paused and placed one hand on the piano and cleared his throat. "Say, Bess," he continued. "I was wonderin'. You reckon you might take a request for an old World War Two ditty?"

"And what might that be?"

"'When the Lights Go On Again All over the World.'"

"You got it, sailor."

She pushed the sheet music aside and began to play from memory, the notes clear and mellow to John's ear. As the melody spilled over him, John pulled out a chair from an empty table and sat down. He remembered that night in the Red Rose Club so many years before when the big band had played this same number. The night he'd proposed to Ellie. And for a moment he felt again the coarse wool of his Navy uniform. And Ellie's presence beside him. How lovely the little diamond looked on her finger. The beauty of the rose in her young cheeks. The sparkle of candlelight in her eyes. The song of life in her voice.

Originally appeared in Kansas City Voices magazine.