Waiting with Elmer

By Deanna K. Klingel

Abandoned by his father in the unusual town of Waitnsee, Willy is burdened with a terrible secret. Lost in life with no family that he can trust, the homeless men of the Union Mission become the family he needs. These homeless and hungry men, particularly the aged and legless Elmer, help Willy to put aside the pain of his secret and find a new way of looking at the world around him. The light of the cross on the Mission's roof, and the wail of trains that passed nearby on a regular basis, become anchors for Willy as he endures prejudice and poverty--and learns the power of forgiveness--while discovering his true calling in life. Set in Middle America during the Great Depression, during that period when the country was recovering from World War I while preparing for World War II, Deanna K. Klingel brings to life that awkward era of American History honestly and unapologetically. He heard the wail of the distant train whistle and started off in that direction, hoping it would be the right way back to the south side of town... He paused at the orange ramp in front of the Mission and looked down to read the hand-painted words on the sidewalk: "Behold, how good it is, and how pleasant, where brethren dwell as one! Psalm 133."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Progressive Rising Phoenix Press, LLC
• Release date: Aug 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781950560059

Deanna K. Klingel

Deanna K. Klingel resides in Edenton, North Carolina, with her husband Dave where they enjoy being surrounded by history. They have seven grown children-all married-and twelve grandchildren. Much of the inspiration for her stories comes from the many places she's lived and the people she encountered. Deanna writes for young and young-at-heart readers, and. is the author of many books for young readers from Pre K to high school. She is a member of SCBWI-Carolinas, NCWNwest, Catholic Writers Guild, and other professional organizations. She frequently visits schools, museums, reenactments and events, and gives presentations at schools, conferences, and museums. Learn more at Booksbydeanna.com, @deannakklingel, fb: Deanna K. Klingel Author.

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A Word From The Author

It's the simple everyday events and people that color our lives and direct our journey of discovering God's plan for our life. Against all reason, Willy, in his simple life, is mentored by homeless men living at the Union Mission. While listening and learning to be humble and patient, Willy discovers God's plan unfolds for him.

Since 1892, the Union Mission Ministries has served the least, the last, and the lost without a home and nowhere else to turn. While I was writing this novel, in 2017, Union Mission celebrated 125 years of compassionate service in communities across America. I hope this novel honors their service.

This is a work of fiction, but shares the stories of boys-to-men in history who rose from their circumstances to light the way for others. This work is set in a historical time that is often overlooked, especially in YA historical fiction, probably because the era lacks exotic beauty and elegant drama.

I hope my readers will discover this time, between the Great Depression and World War II is interesting because of its simplicity. Life lessons learned then are still apropos for today.

Deanna K. Klingel

May 2019

Acknowledgement

Small town middle America is the soil of my own roots. As a child I learned, as Willy does, that a community is embedded in the soul and has an effect on what the child becomes, whether for good or not.

There are many bits and pieces of my own home town sprinkled liberally throughout this story, and I'm sure readers will discover parts of their own community. Sometimes it takes a lifetime of looking back to recognize the important role that the community had in getting one to his destiny.

I'd like to thank the community of my childhood, extended family, teachers, and strangers who all put this story in place. I also want to thank my editor Lisa Nicholas, my publisher Amanda Thrasher at Progressive Rising Phoenix Press, and her wonderful staff for taking on this project with faith and courage.

I dedicate this book to my parents

who taught me to wait and see.

Chapter One

Midwest, late 1930s

This was the hardest part about a new place; he was always waiting. Would this be like the last place? Better? Worse?

The sun was nearly directly overhead. Willy’s shadow lingered in his lap. The sidewalk steamed in the late summer heat, but there wasn’t anywhere else to sit, so Willy sat there cross-legged, fingering his bag of marbles, surveying the dusty little town, and he waited.

The last place was hot like this one. He’d sat in a shady park under a big tree and swatted mosquitoes while he waited. The town before that was next to the ocean, and Willy had sat in the sand and watched the people across the street holding parasols, moving through the seaside town, and he’d waited, while the ocean breeze spit sand into his eyes. How long would he wait today? In the last town, he had waited until after dark. In the town before that, he’d waited until morning.

He leaned his back against the rough bricks of the building. The sign on the door read:

Savings and Loan

Closed on Saturday

He watched a family walk past licking ice cream cones, going north. They looked at him, but Willy knew they hadn’t seen him. Boys like Willy could be looked at and never seen.

I sure don’t look like no ghost. But I am invisible to some folks.

Two businessmen in deep discussion hurried past him, not noticing anything other than themselves. He ducked away from a swinging briefcase, and he watched as they moved toward a law office at the end of the sidewalk. He stretched his legs out in front of him just as a lady hurried down the sidewalk. She pushed a baby carriage. She stopped and stared at Willy.

Excuse me, boy. You trying to trip me?

No, ma’am. I didn’t see you coming.

Then move, she said. She wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something bad in the air. She parked the carriage and rushed into the bakery. In a few seconds she came back, shot Willy a disgusted look, and headed back north, the way she’d come, mumbling, If it weren’t for this bakery, I’d never step foot in this disgusting Southside.

Willy drew his feet under him, scraping his bare leg on the sidewalk. His feet were sweaty and blistered inside his ragged Converse sneakers. He fingered the assortment of knots in the laces and watched a grocer stacking his oranges and apples on the display stand. Willy licked his lips. His stomach growled.

A man wearing a leather apron walked out of the hardware store across the street and unwound his awning to shade the window.

Willy turned his attention to the newspaper box clanking in front of the pharmacy. A man put in his change, tucked a newspaper under his arm, and hurried up the sidewalk, heading north. In another town, another time, Willie had watched two kids jiggle money out of a newspaper box just like this one.

Grandma said it’s just not right to do. Don’t matter if nobody sees you. It’s ‘tween you and God, Grandma said. What you do when no one sees you do it is what really matters, she said.

His heart tumbled in a sack of sadness at the thought of his Grandma.

He heard the rollers and felt their vibration before he saw the contraption rumbling down the sidewalk, coming toward him. He figured it was a kid on a scooter until he saw the square wooden platform with four rollers, one on each corner, propelled by a man’s gloved hands pushing along the sidewalk, like rowing a boat. The man looked like he was sitting cross-legged, but there were no legs tucked under him, only empty pant legs. He rolled swiftly and noisily up and over the hollow-sounding cracks in the sidewalk and stopped in front of Willy. A few dried brown leaves fluttered across the sidewalk. The man’s gray hood dropped to his shoulders. He studied Willy, then smiled.

What you lookin’ at, said Willy, already on the defensive.

You. I’m looking at you. Does that bother you?

Willy shrugged and looked away. It was better to be invisible.

You’re new here, the man stated.

I ain’t s’posed to talk to strange folks.

Oh, I see. Well, I’m likely the strangest folk you’ll ever see. The man chuckled at his own joke. Okay if I sit with you?

Willy shrugged and fingered his marble bag. He could be good at not seeing, too.

The man backed his platform up against the building and sat looking out at the street with Willy, looking straight ahead. But Willy studied the man out the corners of his eyes. His gray coat, whose hood now hung over his shoulder, was tied with a rope around his middle. The coat was cut off at the platform.

Like a half a person.

After a while, Willy spoke. "I didn’t mean you was strange. I meant you was a stranger."

Uh-huh. The man’s beard moved up and down. If you knew my name, would I be a stranger?

Willy shrugged.

How do you do, the man said. He pulled off a glove and extended his wide callused hand to Willy. His hand was whiter than his sun-tanned arm. My name’s Elmer. What’s yours?

Willy hesitated, then spoke. Willy. Willy Sykes. They shook hands. Willy was surprised at the strength in the crippled man’s hand.

Staying long? Elmer asked.

I don’t know. D’pends.

Where do you live? You got a house? Folks?

I guess I’ll stay right here ‘til I know where to go.

A wise answer, the man said, nodding his head, scratching his whiskered chin.

They sat a long time.

***

The sun was all the way to one side now, making Willy’s shadow stretch out on the sidewalk, inching, claiming more space. Willy sat up straighter and tilted his head to see his nappy hair stand up in his shadow. Noisy starlings chattered overhead, dropping white poop on the sidewalk. Willy smeared it with his Converse.

Don’t you have anything to do? Willy asked.

You waiting for someone in particular? Elmer replied, as if he hadn’t heard Willy’s question.

Yes, sir. I’m waitin’ on my dad.

He shopping? Getting some groceries and all for your new place?

What new place?

The man quietly put on his glove and moved out of the sun. How long you been waiting here?

Willy shrugged again.

How long you supposed to wait?

’Til he comes. Then I might have to help him to the truck.

Help him? He’s like me?

Willy glanced at Elmer’s missing legs. No. Nothing like you.

You hungry?

Willy looked away, up the street. The truck wasn’t coming. He chewed his lip.

You want to get something?

Can’t.

I’ll buy.

Willy looked over at the man’s ruddy face. It seemed strange to look into a man’s face at his own height. And usually it wasn’t a friendly face, saying friendly things. The face was always above him, telling him to move on. Willy wasn’t sure how to respond to this man.

Not supposed to go away with strangers.

Well, I think that’s good advice. However, we aren’t strangers anymore. We’re friends. We’re Elmer and Willy, and we’ve just spent the entire quiet afternoon together. I think that qualifies as not being strangers, don’t you?

I reckon. Willy smiled suspiciously, avoiding Elmer’s eyes, and Elmer grinned back.

Well, come on, then, and let me show you around the town. You like blueberry pie? Edna makes the best blueberry pie you ever tasted over here at Edna’s Bakery and Café.

A car passed and honked. Elmer raised his hand, waved, and laughed. Willy looked anxiously up and down the street.

Where could the truck be? Where is my dad?

I’ll introduce you around. We’ll get us something.

Willy’s tongue and his stomach were so excited about his cheeseburger, he nearly choked from cramming in the big bites. He washed it down with two glasses of cold milk.

Edna, we got to have a couple slices of you-know-what now, and I’ll have a cup of Joe with mine.

Of course, you will. One cream, two sugars. You think I don’t know that? Edna grinned wide, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth and two large dimples. Her face was outlined by the black hair net drawn tight around her mousy gray hair and knotted on her forehead.

Willy tucked into his blueberry pie and thought he’d gone to heaven to have supper with his grandma. She used to bake him pies. He’d not had one since…

The pie suddenly died in his stomach. He couldn’t eat it. The shine left his eyes.

Hmm. Well, we’d best get you back to your corner, Willy. Your dad might be waiting for you.

Nah. It doesn’t work that way. I wait for him. Willy knew for a fact that his dad wouldn’t wait for him. When they left one hotel place, Willy had run back to grab his marbles from the drawer that held the Gideon Bible. When he came back out, the truck was gone. Willy walked from the hotel into the town, sat on the curb, and waited. The next day, his dad pulled up to the curb to get him.

Don’t pull that again or I won’t be coming back for you, he warned Willy. I didn’t have to come back, you know. So, Willy always waited.

Chapter Two

Willy and Elmer straggled back to the Savings and Loan, as the sun dropped behind the stores. It was such a stifling and still day, even a dragonfly winging past stirred the thick air. Willy tucked himself into the doorway.

Just my suggestion, Willy; this corner might be as far north as you want to go. I’d stay on this side of the corner. The Northside is…well, just my suggestion. Elmer waved to everyone passing by and rolled on down the sidewalk.

As Willy sat there waiting in the doorway, the last light faded behind him. He studied the quiet little town. Every store had a ramp to the door instead of a step. He looked up and down the sidewalks. Each section of sidewalk and the ramp in front of each store was painted a different color.

Crazy lookin’ town, he mumbled. I never saw paint on a sidewalk. Never saw stores without a step to go in. Crazy lookin.’ Willy curled himself into a tight knot, as invisible as he could be, and slept another night on the sidewalk.

When the dawning sun peeked over the stores across the street, Willy stood up and shook his bones. He rubbed his brown arms and stretched. He heard the rumble, felt the vibration on the sidewalk, and looked up the street. Elmer was rolling toward him.

Brought you some doughnuts, Willy. You sleep okay?

Yes, sir. Thanks. Elmer’s mug of Edna’s coffee-to-go splashed and steamed on his platform. He opened the sack of doughnuts, blessed them with prayer, and they had breakfast.

You’re going to need to find you a new spot to wait before the Savings and Loan opens at nine on Monday morning. Mr. Kimble won’t like you being in his doorway. Why don’t you come over to the park with me? There’s some nice shade, some picnic tables, and you can still see the street from there.

I s’pose I could wait there. Okay, then.

Good. Gather your gear and I’ll show you the way.

It’s just my marbles. That’s all I got. He tucked his marble bag into his hip pocket. Elmer turned his platform around, and the two of them headed across the street, down the sidewalk and into the park. The sidewalk wound through a metal archway that read Memorial Park. Inside it was so shady from the huge old trees it was almost dark. Willy dropped his gaze to the ground, helping folks not to see him. He noticed a pair of work boots sticking out from under a bush, one crossed over the other. Keeping his eyes down, he watched a pair of shoes wrapped in adhesive tape walk past. An old woman pulled a rusty little wagon full of tin cans that danced and hopped around like popping corn in a metal pot.

Morning, Seraphim, he heard Elmer say.

Hey there, Mr. Elmer. How you doin’?

Fine, just fine,

God bless you real good today, Mr. Elmer. She rattled on down the sidewalk.

When they came to a picnic table, Elmer surprised Willy by grabbing hold the bench and leaping off his platform, spinning 360 degrees and landing with a thud on the bench. His pant legs dangled to the ground. Willy slid onto the bench beside him.

Okay. I’ll wait here, Willy said.

Good, Elmer answered, nodding. They sat there watching the street, waiting. After a long while, Willy noticed the sun shone all raggedy through the leaves on one side of the park.

The lacy shadows danced on the ground, and Willy knew the morning was half gone. Where is he?

How long are you going to wait? Elmer asked, as if he’d read Willy’s mind.

Willy shrugged one shoulder.

What do you think your dad is doing?

Looking for work. Drinking. Playing the piano. Sweeping a floor. Sleeping. I don’t know. Willy kept his eyes to the sidewalk.

You got a mama?

She’s gone.

Uh-huh.

She got tired of waiting.

Uh-huh. Elmer watched Willy. He rubbed his stubbly chin. Well, now, looky here who’s coming. This is my friend Rake. Rake, say hello to Willy.

How you doing, Mr. Willy? Something familiar about his voice caused Willy to look up and confirm that Rake was a large man with a huge smile, and skin shiny black as coal. He looked like someone Willy thought he might know. They shook hands.

Willy here’s new in town. I’m showing him around.

Oh, that’s real nice, Elmer. Nice to meet you, Willy.

You bring the chessboard this morning, Rake? Elmer asked, moving over on the bench.

Heh, heh, I did, the man laughed heartily. And you just can’t wait for me to beat your socks off you again this morning, can you?

Willy gave the two men a side glance, keeping his focus on the street, waiting. This was something new: two men who actually saw him, talked friendly to him, and were laughing and playing a game together.

You play any chess, Willy? Rake asked him.

Willy shook his head. Marbles. It’s the only game I know.

Is that right? Well, I reckon you got the two best chess players in the world right here at the table ready to show you some tricks, isn’t that right, Elmer?

"That’s so, Willy, that’s so. Willy’s waiting, Rake."

"Ooh. Waiting. Uh-huh. Well, we probably have time to show you a little thing or two while you’re waiting. Sit here by me."

Willy watched and listened with intense fascination. Before long the sun was shining down directly overhead. Willy’s shadow shared his space. The day was half over.

Now, then, young Willy, I think you’re ready to give this game a chance. You play against Elmer, and I’ll whisper to help you. That work for you, Elmer?

Of course, of course. You know it takes two to beat me. The two men shook from their belly laughs. Willy stared with wonderment.

I never saw grown up men behavin’ like this. And I never saw a white man liking one who wasn’t.

When the hot dog vendor came strolling through the park, Rake called out to him.

Hey, Sam, we need three dogs smothered over here and three lemonades with lots of ice chips. Rake paid the man and handed one of the steamy packages to Willy.

I can’t pay you, Willy said.

Did you hear me ask you to pay? Rake said. Eat your dinner, we got some serious chess to finish here.

Willy savored his dinner and played, first with Rake whispering to him, then Elmer. Before long the sun shone on them from low in the sky, and Willy looked down the street. Another day was almost over. In the distance a train whistle hung in the air. The truck was nowhere in sight.

Where will I sleep tonight? How long will I wait?

You going to sleep at the Savings and Loan tonight? Elmer asked.

Maybe.

Rake said, Elmer, you mean to tell me you didn’t invite young Willy here to the Mission?

"No, I didn’t. Willy’s waiting, Rake, I told you."

Right. You did say that. Well, Willy, if it comes to needing a place, you’d be welcome at the Union Mission. He turned around on the picnic bench and squinted into the setting sun. You see the drug store over there? Willy nodded. He’d seen the pharmacy sign with a blue ramp and blue sidewalk.

Well, on the other side of the drug store there’s a little road, not much of a road, more like an alley, and you just take that road up the hill past the ‘pisc-o-pal-ian Church with the red door. Not much farther on the right you’ll see the big brown shingle building with a lighted-up cross on the top. The cross says Union Mission, real bright. You just come on up there and ask for Rake. Somebody’ll find me.

Can you see the street from there? Willy asked.

No, I don’t think so. But when you get tired of waiting, it won’t matter anymore.

Willy stared at him.

Tired of waiting?

When all the light was gone from the sky, Willy lay down under the picnic table with his head toward the street, watching, waiting. He heard the pit-pat of raindrops slipping through the leaves and splashing onto the picnic table. The temperature was dropping. The ping-ping against the trash barrel sounded like a little drum beat.

Tired of waiting? In one town during a storm I waited under a garbage