Harlow regarded her for a moment. “Is this your way of asking me to work more hours, Tuesday?”
She laughed. “Come, follow me.” She walked Harlow out to the rink and pointed to the mural. “Immanuel here made sense of it all for me. After the rink had closed at night, I’d talk to him.I didn’t know if he was real or not, but Prince Blue sure thought he was, so when all was dark and quiet, I’d sit right here”—she stamped her foot against the polyurethane now covering the wood floor—“and talk to him. Call me crazy, but he talked back. Those glowing eyes sure took a minute to get used to, let me tell you. Especially being alone here in the dark. But know what I came to understand? Peace. Real peace. The kind no one could take. Not Leroy when he was off running with the thugs. Not war or death. And, most recently, not eminent domain. Though I’ve had my moments over the years.”
Harlow glanced up at the man on the wall and breathed in. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt any real peace. With Xander, some. I loved him so much I surrendered everything for him. Gladly.”
“Harlow, that’s what love does. That’s what Immanuel, God with us, did.”
Harlow studied the other pieces of the mural. “Who are the children?”
“You, me, anyone who’s ever come to the Starlight.” Tuesday linked her arm through Harlow’s. “You know I do my best thinking and figuring on roller skates.”
Harlow’s laugh was melodic. “You and Matt ... Harlow Hayes does not skate. She can barely run up and down Sea Blue Way.” She held up the blue bank bag. “Do you need anything else while I’m out?”
“No, no, you go on. But I’m telling you, Harlow Hayes.” Tuesday started for her office. “There’s a skater inside, and she’s dying to get out.”
MARCH 1940
“Ma, I’m going with some of the fellas to Pensacola.” LJ hovered over the newspaper spread across the Starlight’s office desk, readingan article about airplanes. The boy was infatuated with them. “We want to seeStagecoachat the Saenger Theater.”
“All the way to Pensacola? That’s the third time this month. I know you like the Duke, but—”
“Abel hasn’t seen it.”
“LJ Knight, do you think I have my head in the sand? Harriet told me he went with you last month.” Tuesday dropped the basket of dirty linens from concession on the floor. The Suds Up Laundromat had just opened, and Rupert, the owner, offered her a good deal on the rink linens. But until she decided to take him up on it, she still did the rink’s washing. “Will you cart this home? Get the washer going?”
“So you don’t mind if I go to the movies?” LJ reached for the basket.
“Isn’t the Midnight showing anything you want to see?”
“Naw, old Mr. Cranston is runningAnna Kareninaagain. It’s almost like he doesn’t want young folk in his theater. Dale’s a teenager. Why don’t he say something?”
“I’ve known the Cranstons all my life and found that none of them have much sense.” Tuesday regarded her oldest with a sense of pride. “LJ, you’ve grown into a man now. You don’t need my permission to go to the movies, but do be careful and try not to worry this mother’s heart. Don’t go off doing anything stupid.”
“Why would I do anything stupid? I’d never worry you on purpose, Ma.”
“No one ever does. Fill the car with gas on your way home. And find Dup, tell him to make sure we have enough wood to make dinner.”
“Abel is driving.” He hoisted up the laundry basket. “But I’ll fill up the tank anyway. Need anything else?”
“Yes, there’s a pair of brownies in the skate room needing repair. I think the bearings are going. I could ask Burt, but he takes forever and a day, and in the end you have to fix his fix.”
“I’ll do it now.” LJ set the basket by the side door and returneda few moments later with the skates and the repair kit. “Ma, you know I love you, don’t you?”
“Of course. Where’s this coming from?”
“My heart, I reckon.” LJ examined the skate in his hand. “Yep, it’s the bearings.”
What was that affectionate exchange about? She’d always tried to hug and kiss her sons, especially since she didn’t have a mother’s love growing up, but they usually scrunched up and grumbled something like,“Ah, Ma, don’t get all mushy.”
With the afternoon session fifteen minutes away, Dear Dirk began to warm up the Wurlitzer with “Amazing Grace” and “The Old Rugged Cross.”
“Did you see this?” LJ nodded to the newspaper article as he removed the wheels of the skates. “Boeing is testing a pressurized aircraft cabin.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Flight is the future, Ma.” LJ smiled up at her. “I’m going to be a part of it.”
His passion for flight consumed his free time. Every spare minute, he went up in an old Huff-Daland Duster and buzzed the beach, the treetops. Anything to get time in the air.
