Jo's Promise

By George Campora

Our story begins with our character, G. C. Baxter, on an 18-wheeler long-haul run where he is pulled over and told his wife (Jo) and daughter (Adrien) were in an auto accident while he was more than two thousand miles from his home in Olympia, Washington. His employer set up emergency flights to get him there ASAP.

During the flight, he flashes back in his thoughts to when he first got a crush on Jo and when she made him a touching promise before high school graduation. Upon landing in Seattle, he learns from his dad that Adrien succumbed to the accident, and Jo was unconscious in ICU at Harborview Trauma Center. She would remain there for several months.

GC describes the agony of the funeral and the heartache he had to endure from the loss of his sweet five-year-old little girl and Jo's slow healing progress. He describes the mangled and twisted steel that was once his beautiful car and describes what happened. He shares flashbacks of their dating years. Jo's condition becomes so painful, she gives up. It is because of the many intercessory prayers, cards and letters, and visits of family and friends that she pulls through, although she remains hospitalized for therapy for several months.

Meanwhile, GC takes up flying, hoping to eventually become a pilot for UPS. During this time, he nearly crashes the plane trying to land. And then another time, he gets lost above the clouds and runs low on fuel. With the guidance of radio operators, he is able to make a safe landing with the engine running on fumes. GC's hopes of ever becoming a pilot for UPS dies when he does some foolish maneuvers in flight.

During another flashback, we learn of GC's courting and the day when Jo's dad gave his beautiful daughter away to him. Prior to the wedding, Jo and GC make elaborate and hilarious plans to foil an expected shivaree.

During this sequence, we learn of the happy time of their marriage and the birth of Adrien. And we learn how CG wound up driving long-haul trucks until Jo's terrible accident.

Jo's and GC's parents were approaching retirement age, and eventually, GC resigned from his job at UPS and began taking on the duties of farm life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888329832

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Jo's Promise

George Campora

ISBN 979-8-88832-982-5 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89130-792-6 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88832-983-2 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by George Campora

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

About the Author

This book is written in memory of Lyla Jean who came to us with a glorious singing voice that touched many a listener throughout her lifetime. Now she must be singing her songs with angels where there is no more sickness, no more pain, and no more goodbyes. Rest in peace, Darlin'.

It is also written in memory of Wildlife officer Joel Lee who perished while attempting a swift water rescue of an elderly couple trapped in their home from a rising flash flood. He went out doing what he felt was his calling in life. I am proud of you, Son. Joel left behind his school teacher wife (Becca) and two little girls Dacie and Bethany who now happily attend high school with hopeful plans of being a veterinary and animal caregiver, respectively.

Shiela Marie, you are now the focal point of the little family that you grew up in—I love you.

—Dad

Shiela's husband, Darin, is an ordained Baptist minister and a highly in-demand technician. Their firstborn was a little boy (Drew). He now is a construction worker for IT. He took a wife (Kayla) who is a director of the same company. They have a cute little boy (Dierks).

Second in line came another little boy (Travis). He grew up to take Hanna (soon to be a pharmacist) for his wife. Travis is now a public school teacher/athletic coach.

Then came even another little boy (Nathan). Today, he keeps his nose in books studying to be like his sister-in-law, a pharmacist. No one told Nathan he was supposed to stop growing when grew up. Today, he towers above all the rest of us at six feet and eight inches. Instead of climbing into his car to drive it, he puts it on.

Number four brought a change of venue; finally, a little girl (Natalie) joined the family. Today, she attends high school and, like her mother when she was that age, sings specials in church and plays the piano and drums.

Just in case you might be wondering, I love you all, and it is such a treat seeing your happy faces.

—Grandpa

A great big thanks and a tip of my hat goes out to Kristy Eastridge and Carol Farmer who graciously struggled through my cobbled-up first draft and sent back helpful improvement suggestions.

Chapter 1

The Flight for Life

You have an emergency at home. Follow me!

I was a truck driver under a load of freight destined for Seattle from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, with just three days left on a demanding two-week run. I was looking forward to being home again in Olympia in the arms of my sweet wife, Joann (Jo), and hugging our five-year-old daughter, Adrien. The reliable diesel engine hummed effortlessly as I cruised along I-70 near Terre Haute, Indiana, and instinctively glanced at my rearview mirror. I saw a white police cruiser coming up behind at a pretty good clip.

Instead of traveling on by as I expected, he pulled up alongside my cab, backed off, and steered behind my trailer. His flashing red lights came on, so I slowed and eased my rig as far as I could out of the way of passing traffic. I had hardly stopped when he zoomed up beside my cab and screeched to a stop. He opened the door, stood up, and shouted those troubling words—words I would never have wanted to hear, especially when more than two thousand miles from home.

My heart was pounding, and I was having trouble grabbing the proper gears as we drove on to the next exit. The traffic light on to Route 40 was red, but with the siren wailing and emergency lights flashing, we cautiously navigated through the busy intersection. I followed as the officer turned in a vacant lot. He jumped out and ran up to my open door. Grab your bags, lock 'er up, and give me the keys, he ordered. He pointed to the passenger door, and we bounced out of the lot with lights flashing, siren screaming, and hurtling on the road toward Terre Haute Regional Airport.

Your wife and daughter were in a traffic accident this morning, he said.

What happened? Are they all right? I asked in a trembling voice.

I have no more information except that your boss has chartered a plane to fly you to Chicago. As I understand it, from there, you will be flown to Seattle on a commercial nonstopper. His voice mellowed. Must be something serious for an employer to arrange all this.

As we approached the airport, a security officer opened the gate and waved us through, pointing to a twin-engine Beechcraft in front of us. The left engine was already running. The officer grabbed my duffel bag and handed it to me as I scrambled over the right wing to the open door. I tossed the bag in the back seat, piled in, and pulled the door shut.

The pilot was talking to the tower for clearance to taxi to our runway. He started the right engine then both engines revved, and we were on our way.

Beechcraft 837 Joliet, you are cleared for takeoff.

Eight-three-seven Joliet roger, he responded.

Because of the emergency nature of our flight, we were given full priority over all the other planes on the field. The pilot throttled up, and the engines buzzed in harmony. The acceleration pushed us back into our seats, and seconds later, the nose lifted, and we were airborne, on our way to Chicago. All this seemed like a horror dream. Minutes ago, I was piloting an 18-wheeler on the interstate, and now here I was, sitting next to a pilot sixteen thousand feet in the air, not knowing Jo and Adrien's status.

After we touched down at Chicago's O'Hare Airport, the pilot changed his radio frequency to ground control and was instructed to proceed to the United Airlines jumbo jet at space 22 of the passenger terminal. As I opened the door to get out, he said, They've been waiting for you. Good luck, Kid.

A security guard in a black uniform took my bag and led me to the stairway up to the open door of that huge blue-and-white 747. I was met by a pretty flight attendant who showed me to my seat about halfway down the left aisle. I could hear the bumps and thuds from below, which I am sure were from securing the cargo area after loading my duffel bag. A minute later, the aircraft was pushed away from the concourse, and soon those powerful gigantic jet engines thundered to life, shoving our massive airliner skyward.

A few jiffies after departing O'Hare, we leveled out at our cruising altitude. The pleasant voice of our captain came on the intercom, welcoming everyone to the friendly skies. He apologized for the departure delay and explained it was to accommodate a passenger onboard with a serious emergency at home. On behalf of everyone at United Airlines, we wish him well, he said. He went on to explain that we were cruising at 503 miles per hour at thirty thousand feet. The winds are favorable, so we will be making up time in the air. We should arrive at Sea Tac almost on time. The temperature out there is a comfortable 68 degrees, he added.

I was touched by all the kindness I got since my abrupt parking back in Indiana. The four-hour flight to Seattle seemed to last forever. I had no idea what I was going to find once I got out there. I guess my brainwaves were spinning in my head like they did on a rollercoaster as a child. Even the inflight meal was tasteless. I couldn't help thinking about Jo and when I first got a serious crush on her.

*****

Our church youth are having a skating party next Friday, she said. Would you like to join us and be my guest?

Jo went to the Brownsville Baptist church, and I went with my parents to an old-fashioned country church nearby. Our preacher came from the old fire-and-brimstone school. He taught that it was wrong to…well, you know. Like the little girl who announced to her schoolteacher, In our church, we don't believe in smoking. We don't believe in drinking. We don't believe in dancing. We don't believe in going to shows. After a pause, she rolled her eyes and said, I guess we don't believe in anything.

It never came up, but I wouldn't be surprised if we didn't believe in roller-skating. But whether we believed in it or not, after looking into Jo's sparkling blue eyes and sweet smile, there was no way I would decline her invitation. I had never been on skates before, so I said, Why, yes! I'd love to go skating with you. You'll have to teach me how to skate though.

I will, she chirped. I promise! We'll all meet at the church at five. We are expecting several carloads, so Mom will be driving one. We will ride with her.

I truthfully told Mom and Dad that I was invited to a youth gathering at the Baptist church, and I was allowed to attend with their blessings. I was careful to leave home dressed in my Sunday go-to-meeting duds. On my way, I pulled into a gas station. And in the men's room, I changed into my blue jeans, sport shirt, and tennis shoes.

It was a pleasant ride in the back seat of Jo's parent's almost-new '62 Ford. We had a full carload, so Jo and I had to sit close. At first, as we chatted and laughed, we reached out and tapped each other on the arm or shoulder, but then we ultimately held hands.

While Jo was a seasoned skater, I was clumsy at first. Even when I tried to stand up, my feet would go out from under me with a window-rattling thud! She took my arm and steadied me and patiently explained the way to control skates. She showed me how tipping the skates one way would make them turn one way or the other. She remained with me as we stayed out of the way of the other skaters. Slowly, I began to get the hang of it, although many crashes followed, and sometimes I even pulled her down with me. It got to the point where she could tell when (much like a looming sneeze) I was about to lose it. She would release my arm, skate a foot or so away, and let me get on with my pileup to the floor. Then she would swoop back and help me up. In time, the smashups became fewer and less severe.

I reached a point where I needed to take a break, so I suggested we go to the refreshment stand and get a soda and rest a bit. She agreed. We picked out a table, and I asked her what she would like to drink. Get whatever you want, but get two straws, she whispered.

I had no idea I would ever be sitting nose-to-nose and drawing Coke from a straw with such a pretty girl! Without warning, I pulled out my straw and pretended I was going to blow its contents in her face. Unexpectedly, she took the other end in her mouth and clamped it with her teeth and wouldn't let go. Now I was afraid she would blow it in my face if I let go, so I drew her closer and closer as I folded the straw in my mouth. I guess we looked like a robin on each end of a worm while we held hands across the table.

Our bliss was suddenly ended by the sound of jubilant laughter from bystanders, including Jo's mom. When you find love, you lose your mind, I guess, she was heard saying.

We were both red-faced. She gave my hands a quick squeeze and let go, and she released her end of my straw and whispered, "You