WALTER AND MARGARET

Transformation, Love

WALTER AND MARGARET

 

Walter was a skinny, dorky looking young man, so unsure of himself. His carrot colored hair stood straight up. There was no way he could make it lay down. His eyebrows and eyelashes that framed pale blue eyes were white. His lips were full and barely covered a full mouth of white teeth. He had a look of surprise most of the time, probably because he was. People never behaved as he expected them to.

 

Walter liked his job; he didn’t have to deal with people. He was a hard worker and his employer, Mr. Grumwald the butcher, appreciated his work, but he couldn’t get any conversation going with Walter and finally gave up trying. Walter opened early to butcher the beef and pork and dress the chickens before placing them “artfully” in the showcase. He scrubbed and swept and once Mr. Grumwald got there to open up, Walter went home. He had a large garden that he worked each day and into the evening, weeding, watering and fertilizing. He sold his produce at the farmer’s market in Brown’s Bend on Saturdays.

 

Walter’s town, Brown’s Bend, was small with a tree filled square of big, old, thick, oak trees, their long, thick limbs reaching out for the sun, some dipping almost to the ground, forming an enchanted, shady space beneath.  Shops and the one grocer lined all the streets around the square. Walter’s plain box house was on an acre of land along a street with other houses about a mile out of town. His parents had died when he was away at college in a tragic automobile accident. Insurance had paid off the mortgage on the house and put money in the bank so that Walter finished his education in 1949 and came home to live. Now, at twenty four, he gardened and worked. He worked at the butcher shop; he worked at home, keeping house and cooking. He tended his garden in the summer and planned his garden in the winter.

 

As 1951 rolled around, his little town was growing smaller and smaller. People were leaving, moving away. No one could support themselves with a small farm or small herd of cattle anymore. There were better opportunities elsewhere. Some were moving to Northville twenty miles to the north where they could find jobs at the sheet metal shop or with Martin’s Grain Company which grew wheat on hundreds of acres around Northville.

******

Margaret fussed with her dark hair. It had a tendency to frizz so she conditioned it heavily. It just hung down both sides of her face. “Well, not much I can do there,” she said aloud as she checked her reflection in the mirror. Her smile was thin but her big brown eyes looked right into you and could draw you away from her long, Romanesque nose. She washed her face and put on her white shirt, not a good choice against her very pale skin. She checked her thin as a rail image in the mirror in her pencil line black skirt and black loafers and picked up her purse. She was going for an interview. She had just moved to Brown’s Bend from down south, rented a house and needed to work to pay next month’s rent. As she sat in the waiting room of the mayor’s office in the courthouse she was very nervous. Pretty women always had an advantage, just a fact of life, so Margaret knew she had to come across as very charming, intelligent and open, actually, she was intelligent, yes, but open, no. To smile and chat someone up during an interview or helping a customer or with an employer or teacher or professor - - - well it was something she had learned how to do and did it well. Once she got the job, she was always appreciated because she made herself indispensable, taking on more and more and doing everything well.

 

She got the job. The first week’s paycheck bought food. She visited the grocery store then walked to the butcher shop. Walter was just finishing up, removing his blood spattered apron when Margaret walked in. He was flustered because Mr. Grumwald was not there yet. He did not like waiting on customers, but he greeted Margaret and asked if he could help her? “Is she new in town? I don’t remember ever seeing her before. Would it be rude to ask where she’s from?” he thought.  

“Yes,” she replied in her best upbeat, charming voice. “I would like a small beef roast.”

Walter put on his professional behavior and with seeming poise showed her a selection of cuts. “Will this roast, third from your right, be a good size for you?”

“Is that the smallest you have?”

“I will be happy to cut one for you, say half of this small one?”

“That would be perfect.”

After she left, Walter cut the remaining piece of the roast into stew meat, greeted Mr. Grumwald when he arrived and left for home. He was surprised that his morning customer kept popping into his mind as he worked throughout the day. Those big brown eyes had captured him immediately and he remembered her smile and quiet laugh. She was so pleasant.

******

It was the dead of winter with deep snow and bitter cold even on sunny days. On these cold days, Walter left the butcher shop a little later because Mr. Grumwald came in later. There weren’t many customers that braved the cold and snow to come to the butcher shop early and he knew he could depend on Walter to hang around. Two weeks had passed before Margaret had come back in. “She must have eaten that roast one ounce at a time to last this long.” he thought. Walter had sold her meat every other week for about two months when he got up the courage to greet her with a “Good morning, my name is Walter. It’s good to see you again.” She smiled and said “Thank you, my name is Margaret.”

 

Winter began to wind down. No fresh snow for weeks and one only had to wear two layers to keep warm rather than the four in mid-winter. Walter had rehearsed for weeks what he would say to Margaret when she came into the store on this Friday morning. His heart began to race when he saw her coming toward the door. “Good morning Margaret. So nice to see you, what can I get for you today?” He felt comfortable being so familiar because of her sociable behavior each time she came in. Sometimes she bought a chicken, sometimes a pork roast but today she asked for ground meat. Before he could lose his resolve, he blurted out “Would you like to have dinner with me?” Startled, she just stood there looking at him. Quickly though she nodded and said a quiet, “Yes?” Remembering herself, she smiled and again said, “Yes, yes, I would like that.”

 

Walter and Margaret met at the one café on the square at 6:00 that evening. Far too many locals were there, staring, whispering. They knew Walter well and had never seen him in the café and most had no idea who Margaret was. The two of them were squirming under the surveillance and quickly scooted into a booth. They were still there two hours later. They had burgers for dinner and talked and talked and talked.

 

Margaret came to the butcher shop on Wednesday after their dinner together at the café and invited Walter to dinner at her place the following Friday. When he said yes she bought liver. Walter had mentioned that he liked liver and onions.

 

Walter had never had much to think about except his gardening. He didn’t much care about Saturdays at the farmer’s market, all those people. He did it for the money so that he could garden. He didn’t “enjoy” butchering; he did it for the paycheck so that he could garden. But now, he thought about Margaret. He thought about her a lot. She was so soft spoken and interesting to talk to. Neither of them had traveled, but they both had read about people and places and history and science and never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Through the summer months, she was coming into the shop every week and they were seeing one another often so he felt secure enough to ask her to lunch at his place the coming Saturday.

 

Walter was impressed that Margaret inspected his tractor so thoroughly on that cool but sunny Saturday and asked questions and even asked if she could drive it. He made hamburgers for lunch and they cleaned up together afterwards. He stood by the counter while she dried her hands and hung the towel on the rack. She turned to him and took his hand in hers and looked into his eyes. He felt a surge throughout his body and hoped she could not feel that he was shaking. She finally dropped his hand and said she should go. He thanked her for coming and helped her into her coat and she was gone. “Should I have offered to walk her home? Why didn’t I ask her to stay longer? What did she want from me when she held my hand?” He tortured himself the rest of the day and into the night. “What a bumpkin I am.”

 

He was surprised to see her coming towards the store the following week. He thought he might never see her again now that she knew what a fool he was. A late north wind, stalling spring, had swept in and with no coat she was shivering as she came in the door. She was her usual smiling self, bought her meat and asked, “Will I see you at the café tonight as usual?” Eagerly, he said “Yes, absolutely, I am looking forward to it.”

 

Walter poured his heart out to Margaret that night. He told her how much he enjoyed being with her and how bad he had felt after she left Saturday. “I like you a lot Margaret and when I thought I might never see you again because of my offish behavior I realized how important our friendship is.”

“Is friendship all you want for us Walter?”

“Can I hope for more?”

“Yes Walter, hope for more.”

Walter rose and held her coat for her, put his coat on and took her hand. He led her out the door and put his arm around her shoulders to keep her warm as they walked to his house. It was warm inside and they took off their coats and threw them onto the sofa. The only light was a glow from a night light in the bathroom. Walter moved close to her, put his hand on the back of her neck and kissed her. She melted into him as he wrapped his other arm around her waist and kissed her again and again. She pulled away and began to unbutton his shirt. He wasted no time getting his pants off, but when he tried to unbutton her blouse he just couldn’t do it, she finally had to do it herself.

 

Walter asked Margaret to marry him six months after they had met. She said yes. They married in Northville on a Friday night with Margaret in a new creamy lace dress with her dark hair up in a bun. The hair dresser had suggested to Margaret that she use less conditioner. Walter, in a new suit with a pale blue shirt that Margaret had picked out because it matched his eyes, had told the barber to “cut it short.” They spent the weekend in the finest hotel, the only hotel, in town in bed.

 

On the way home Sunday evening, Walter was preoccupied. His old truck needed replacing, it barley got them to Northville to be married, but he still had tractor payments and now he had the responsibility of a wife and Mr. Grumwald was talking about moving his butcher shop to Northville. With more and more people moving away business was way down.

******

By midsummer, Margaret was pregnant. Walter’s gardens were producing beautiful tomatoes, peas, beans, lettuce and corn. Cabbages and carrots and onions were about ready to harvest. It had been a good year even if he did have to go to Northville to the farmers market there to sell his produce on weekends. Life was good.

 

A winter wind blew in ripping the red and gold leaves from the oak trees in the town square early October. December first, Mr. Grumwald told Walter he was closing the shop. “Just not enough business Walter. The missus and I are going to retire. We’re thinking, maybe Florida.” By January first, Walter would be out of a job, but since the tractor was finally paid off he and Margaret decided they could “make it” on her salary.   

 

Walter planted early April but it was dry. They had not had rain for weeks and the gardens got off to a poor start. Walter Jr. was born mid July and Margaret and Walter were mesmerized by that tiny little being. Watching Margaret nurse him or holding him in the water while Margaret bathed him, having Baby’s little fingers curl around his finger was so miraculous to Walter that he was loath to leave the house.

 

One sunny day, Walter was working on his tractor and raised his head to wipe the sweat off his face. His arm raised, shielding his eyes, he watched Margaret walk out of the house holding Baby. She had set his little swing up in the yard to get a little sun. Margaret had gathered her long curly hair up into a high pony tail. Her thin body had filled out. She had hips thanks to childbirth. She had curves. Her cheeks were pink from the heat of the sun and her profile with that Roman nose was that of an Impress. Margaret was beautiful.

 

That night Walter lay in bed watching Margaret step out of the shower. He had showered and lay in the dark looking into the brightly lit bathroom. Margaret put one foot on the edge of the tub to dry her calf and foot. Her heavy breasts hung down. As she stood with her back to Walter he admired her tiny waist and the swell of her hips. She hung the towel on a hook, flipped off the light and slid into bed and into his arms.

******

It had not been a good summer. Not enough rain. The gardens had suffered. A cool front marked the coming of fall when Margaret picked Baby up after work and drove home. Walter had dinner ready, as he did most nights, and he played with Baby while Margaret cleaned up after dinner. Once Baby Walt went down for the night, Margaret broke the news; her job would be phased out in thirty days. They just sat there looking at one another until Margaret said, “What are we going to do?” Margaret bowed her head to hide the tears welling up. Walter couldn’t bear to see her so dejected. They went to bed and held one another. Margaret cried a little and Walter stroked her hair and kept assuring her that “Everything would work out,” and finally they slept.

 

By morning, Walter had a plan. He and Margaret talked about it over breakfast and he left for Northville.

Mr. Smithers, vice president of Martin’s, looked up from his desk as the tall, tanned, young man he had agreed to meet with walked into his office. Walter’s carrot colored hair was cut in a close flat top and his muscular frame filled out his western shirt. He strode right up to Mr. Smithers' desk in well worn cowboy boots and tight jeans with hand outstretched. He flashed his big white smile and drew Mr. Smithers right into those pale blue eyes. He thanked Mr. Smithers for taking the time to see him as he took Mr. Smithers hand in a firm handshake. Walter had a plan. It was a good plan so he was not surprised when Mr. Smithers was interested. Nothing surprised Walter much anymore. Walter had begun to notice that people responded to him differently these days. Mr. Watson, his banker, didn’t even recognize him when he had gone in to discuss a loan to buy land, a key piece of the plan he had presented to Mr. Smithers.

 

By December, Walter’s plan was working. Walter’s banker had approved “The Plan” and had come up with creative loans to allow Walter to buy land over time and Martin’s had signed a contract to buy all of Walter’s grain for the next five years.

 

Margaret and Walter looked nothing like the two people who had met three years ago. Was it love that brought transformation? Was it love or appearance that brought self-confidence? People paid attention to handsome Walter and Margaret. Would Mr. Smithers have taken Walter’s plan seriously if the shy, skinny, dorky Walter had walked into his office?

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

I was drawn right into this very well-written tale of real people falling in love and facing life's challenges. The names, "Walter and Margaret", are a perfect choice for the characters. I know Walter, for he is much like some of the men I've written about. Truth be known, he's a lot like me.
I know Margaret, too, as she's like a woman or two I've known. I won't pester you about making it longer, but it does seem the opportunity is there, should you choose to continue.