A Groom to Come Home To

“This your first year in high school?” he asked.

“Yes, I could have gone last year, but my folks discouraged me. They didn’t try to prevent it this year—maybe because I’m older.”

“How old are you, anyway?”

“Fifteen, but I’ll have a birthday in December. What grade are you in?”

“This is my senior year.”

Though she could tell he was older than herself, Beth hadn’t guessed he was a senior.

“What do you want to do when you finish?” she asked him.

“Go to work in the mines, I reckon,” he replied. “My daddy is disabled, and the family has been sacrificing to let me finish high school. It’ll be my turn to work now, and help my little sisters. By the way, my name is Clark Randolph.”

Beth turned startled green eyes in his direction. A Randolph! Just my luck, she thought. When the bus slowed down to pick up other students, without speaking again, Beth moved to another seat, then stared out the window as the bus weaved in and out of the narrow streets of Harlan.

Why of all the places on this bus did she have to have sat beside a Randolph? If John Warner heard about it, that would be the end of her high-school days. For as long as she could remember, Beth had been taught that Warners and Randolphs were enemies. No one had ever spelled out why in so many words, but her father’s shotgun was always loaded against the Randolphs, and it galled John Warner that he had to live in the shadow of Randolph Mountain.

By the time Beth had been born, hostilities were confined to fights at dances, or backing opposing candidates in elections, but from the tales she had heard, in the early days of the century, the feud had been a bloody one.

After World War II and the closure of many mines, most of the Warners and Randolphs had scattered to other vicinities, and there weren’t many left in the mountains to carry on the feud. Still, John Warner continued to nurse the grudge and would cross the street rather than come face-to-face with any Randolph. So why did that cute, friendly boy have to be a Randolph?

When the bus stopped at the elementary school, Beth helped Bryce get down from the vehicle, and smiled when a waiting teacher took charge of the boy. “I’ll help you off the bus tonight, Bryce, so don’t worry,” she called to him, and he waved shyly at her.

She’d been so caught up in Bryce’s problem that she’d forgotten for a while the unknown awaiting her. She realized that she didn’t have any idea where to go to enroll, so when the bus stopped at the high school she remained seated while the other students exited. When Clark passed by her, he paused, pointing, “You go through that door and turn to the right to reach the office. That’s where you have to register.” She nodded her thanks, and he motioned for her to precede him down the aisle.

As she moved toward the doors he had indicated, Clark said, “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Beth Warner.”

The distress in Clark’s brown eyes was quickly replaced by laughter. “Oh, I see,” he said knowingly. “That’s too bad.”

For the next two months, Beth was keenly aware of Clark as she boarded the bus each morning. If she met his gaze, he’d nod hello with a big smile. She’d nod back, but she carefully avoided any conversation with him. Occasionally, as he passed her seat, Clark would tug tenderly on her hair and lay his warm hand on her shoulder, but she ignored him. Her ears were always alert to any comment about Clark by her friends, and she had learned that he lived with his family in the Harlan school district, but that they also had a country home where they spent weekends and summers.

To her surprise, Beth did well academically in school, and soon had friends among girls who were much like her—those with very little money, from large families, and who received scant encouragement at home for furthering their education.

Beth made friends cautiously, but her shy, affectionate smile endeared her to teachers and students alike. That she seemed unaware of her rare beauty—which was accented by a firm little chin below even, white teeth, and a shapely mouth with full lips—made her peers take notice of her.

Beth was attentive in class and studied hard each night. She made above-average grades, for she considered that education was the only way to further her dreams of leaving Kentucky. On Friday evenings, Beth’s parents came to take her home and brought her back to Harlan on Monday mornings. Beth felt guilty when she realized how much her parents looked forward to seeing her each weekend. She understood that the house was bleak when she went away, and her conscience was troubled.

Besides her school studies, Beth was getting some practical experience in being a caregiver, for she had volunteered to spend several hours each night with Angie Reymond, an elderly friend of her grandmother who needed someone to stay with her while her daughter was at work. Angie’s income was limited, and she could only afford to hire a person to stay during the day. Beth didn’t mind sitting with the elderly woman because she could do her homework there as well as at her grandmother’s home.

Several boys at school had noticed her, but none had captivated her thoughts like Clark. Each day on the bus, he continued to show interest in her but she continued to ignore him—not that she personally had any ill will toward the Randolphs, but she didn’t want to irritate her father, whom she loved in spite of his prejudices.

One Saturday afternoon in late October, Beth was walking in the woods atop Randolph Mountain, unwilling to stay inside on such a beautiful day. Autumn was waning, and she wanted to enjoy the last vestiges of the season’s beauty before a windy winter blast rolled down the mountain, bringing drabness and isolation.

She had been climbing steadily, and the afternoon was warm, so Beth pulled off her jacket and leaned against a towering oak as she peered through the trees at the Cumberland River Valley to the west. A haze hung over the valley, but she could see the crowded, narrow streets of Harlan, and her school building in the middle of town.

“Hi, Beth Warner.” The voice startled her, and she looked around wildly. She hadn’t suspected that anyone else would be hiking today. “Look up. I’m in the tree.”

Beth recognized his voice, and she looked upward to see Clark peering over the edge of a hunting platform, loftily perched in the branches of the large oak tree.

“Hi, Clark Randolph.”

“Come on up,” he said, indicating the homemade ladder attached to the tree. “The view is a lot better from up here.”

“Warners don’t talk to Randolphs.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why won’t Warners talk to Randolphs?”

Beth thought for a while, and she laughed. “I don’t have the least idea.”

“Neither do I,” Clark said. “Here, I’ll give you a hand.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Beth set her foot on the first rung of the ladder, thus charting her course along a path that had brought her pleasure and comfort, but which had also caused much of the grief and loneliness she was experiencing today. She hadn’t thought of the long-range consequences that day, however.

With an outstretched hand, Clark was waiting to help her onto the platform where he knelt.

“What are you doing up here?” Beth asked, glancing around with interest.

“Looking into your pretty green eyes,” he said.

“Oh, be serious. I mean, what were you doing before I came along?”

“Building a deer stand for hunting season. I had one down the mountain a ways, but it’s crumbled into ruins.” He pointed proudly to what he had already accomplished—a square platform built from rough lumber, with a miniature shack in the middle of it. “I built the little room to sit in if it’s raining or snowing. Most of the time, I’ll sit here on the platform and watch.”

“Do you own this mountain?”

He laughed. “Mining companies own most of these woods, but some of the owners allow hunting.”

“I never come in the woods during deer season.”

“A good idea—it’s too dangerous. But that’s three weeks away. You can ramble around until then.”

Beth sat beside Clark and they dangled their feet over the side of the platform.

“How are you getting along at school, Beth?”

“All right. I’ve been studying hard, and my grades for the first grading period were tops. My parents are really proud of me.”

“I’ve heard how you’ve been sitting at night with Mrs. Reymond. Not many girls would give up their evenings to sit with an old lady. I hear she’s kinda grouchy, too.”

Beth laughed. “She is, but I’m used to grouchy old people. My daddy is grouchy with everyone except me. It’s because they don’t feel very well, so I just overlook it.”