Five For a Start

Five For a Start

Shirley Havens

Copyright © 2024 Shirley Havens

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2024

ISBN 979-8-88960-849-3 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88960-861-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

About the Author

Introduction

You'd think they'd hand out maps or life strategy plans, wouldn't you? No one I ever knew had a map or even a guidebook for life. No three-point outlines. No Sit down here and let me tell you how this works kind of advice either. So how was I to know? I just jumped right in, like I did with everything else in my life. Didn't question how or why…just did it! That had always been my way of doin' things from the start. Just do it! Even before the Nike commercials.

Did ya ever wonder why our federal or state court systems don't make you take a marriage test or a kid-raisin' test? Seems to me like that's way more important to the welfare and safety of our society than drivin' a Lexus or a Dodge Ram TufTruck. You have to go to the courthouse in any state in America to get a marriage license, but any fool can have a baby and keep it to raise without any kind of previous experience or license. Like I said, no how-to manual. And who writes these manuals anyhow? So how does anybody know how to keep a marriage going for a lifetime or raise one, two, three, or more little helpless babies into grown adults fit to govern, heal, lead, and protect our society?

Well, I didn't have a manual. No license. No mentor. I just jumped right in with my heart and soul and did the best I could bein' young as I was and all. I was just eighteen. Barely grown myself. Certainly in no way wise to the world or rich enough to get education past high school. When I was seventeen, I graduated from a little country school with thirty-one kids like me who thought they knew more than they actually did. A few years later, we learned that we really didn't know much at all.

Fresh and new at life and ready to jump right in and start livin' it on my own, I was ready!

Chapter 1

It was summertime in the early '60s, and jobs were paying less an hour than what you buy a pack of gum for today. I wouldn't say times were hard, but I know I lived on soup and ice water in a one-room walk-up for a month in a small Southern town just trying to get enough out of my paycheck at the factory to pay for the bed (which I'm sure Abe Lincoln had slept in) and get to work for the week. I used to walk two blocks every afternoon after work to a local restaurant, take a seat at the counter, and order a glass of water just so I could take a couple of packages of the crackers they always had in little baskets, put them in my purse, and head back to my room to my can of soup. I was livin'! I had crackers with my soup! Now that was just the kind of girl I was. I wanted crackers with my soup. And I wanted them bad enough to figure out a way to get them. Now that I think on it, it wasn't such a clever plan…just desperation at not being able to afford to buy crackers. It might seem like a little thing, but soup is just watery broth without crackers.

Back then I was high on life. I expected good things. At eighteen, I wasn't half bad to look at. I had thick, long brown hair, a pretty smile, blue eyes, and a darn good figure. I was clean, untouched, and frankly, wide-eyed innocent.

Then I met a man. He was older, mature, handsome, funny, and I fell hard.

For nearly a year after our first date frog-giggin' at the lake, I was hooked. He called me his sweet little bunch of bitterweeds, and I was walkin' on air, completely head over heels in love and tryin' to make my way in life.

I got caught in the crosshairs of a bad, goin'-nowhere relationship. He forgot to mention that he was married. His wife let me know outright one night at the dirt track races while I stood by his truck waitin' for him for the ride home. That was uncomfortable. She said to me, You are not riding home with my husband. I'll drive you back to town.

What could I do? I got in her car and rode quiet-like and in disbelief until we got three blocks from where I lived. I said, This is me. You can drop me here. I got out before the car came to a stop and slowly walked in the wrong direction till she was out of sight, and then I turned around and ran the three blocks back to my door. Once I was safe inside, I didn't even turn on the lights. I was scared she'd see somehow. I threw myself across the rickety old bed and cried myself to sleep. I was devastated! How? How could I not know?

I did the only thing I could figure to do. I packed everything I owned in the back seat of my 1960 black Falcon and drove to New Orleans to stay with a friend. That's what we do when we don't know what to do. We run. Fast and far.

Christmastime came that year, and I wanted to go back home. You know how it is… You miss the life and people you are familiar with. Visiting friends is great for a while, but it does get old and uneasy. You don't really feel like you belong.

When I drove back to what I was familiar with, I had to face reality. I needed a place to stay and a job to pay for it. Luckily, a friend of a friend had a house in town who said I could move in and share the rent. She seemed nice. I'd saved a little money working as a waitress in New Orleans, so I could pay my way till I found a job in town. I was scouring the want ads in the town newspaper and going to interviews. I had put my applications in at different places for almost two weeks with no luck.

One day, while I was out looking for a job, I came back to the house, and Carol told me that someone had broken into the house while I was away, and they stole money out of my dresser drawer. She was real good at makin' up stories. I was learning life lessons. Don't put money in a dresser drawer, and don't live with someone you don't know. It became clear that I needed to relocate when Carol came in two days after Christmas and said she was moving and I'd have to leave.

I'd seen an ad for a babysitting job a couple of weeks back. I tried to find the paper for the number to call, but it had gone out in the trash. This is my last chance, I thought to myself. I picked up the phone and tried to remember the number. I'm pretty good with them. I have an uncanny ability to remember numbers, and they stay put somewhere in the back of my brain.

The steady hum of the dial tone was broken as my finger dialed WI5-3435. I waited as the phone on the other end rang once, twice, three times and was picked up. A man's voice answered, and quickly, in a rush of words, I asked if the job I'd seen advertised in the paper had been filled. No, he said it hadn't been. I explained that I'd like to talk to him about it. We talked for a few minutes, and during the conversation, he asked if I had a boyfriend. I told him no. It was the truth. I didn't have at the moment. That was why I was in this mess in the first place.

Mr. Havens, that was what he said his name was, and I told him mine. He said he'd like to talk to me…a sort of interview I suppose, and it was set for that afternoon…as soon as possible. I gave him directions out to the house and hung up, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. I wasn't sure, but it sounded like I might have gotten the right number at last.

As soon as possible turned out to be thirty minutes later. I changed into a two-piece suit that I wore to my other job interviews and yanked the brush rollers out of my hair, throwing them all over the bed, and some of them rolled off onto the floor. I'd just fastened the last snap of my garter belt on my last pair of stockings and slipped on my high heels when I heard a car pull up in the yard. I ran to the front room and looked out the window. Good gosh! That was quick! I said under my breath, as the black Ford Galaxie stopped in front of the house. I watched as the man got out of the car and walked to the front door. He didn't look like a serial killer.

He knocked, and I opened the door and smiled. He said hello and introduced himself again. Nervously, I asked if he'd like to come in and have a cup of coffee. It was two days after Christmas and cold. If it'd been summer, I'd have invited him in for iced tea, because that's the proper thing to do in the South when someone comes to your door. I was poor, but I was proper.

He said no, that he had his kids in the car with him and that he thought I might like to come out and see the house while we visited about the job.

I said, Sure, just a minute, and went back into my room to get my coat and purse and catch my breath. I was very nervous. I really needed a job and a place to live, and I wanted to make a good first impression.

I went back to the front door where he stood waiting, closed it behind me, and followed him out to the car. As he opened the car door for me, I noticed a few heads in the back seat. I slid into the front seat, turned around, and ventured a brave look into the back seat. I counted out loud, One, two, three, four, five. You've got five children? Yep, five! All in the back seat!

That was more kids than I'd seen except in Sunday school and regular school. No one in my family had five kids. Five dogs maybe…but not kids to feed, dress, clean up after, and send to school.

He started the car, pulled out of the yard out to the street, and headed north out of town. Then the introductions began. I turned so I could see the back seat and asked the oldest girl her name. Dark-eyed and with dark curly hair, she answered, I'm Kathy, and that's Mike, looking at the boy sitting by the window. Mike was the oldest. He didn't say much, but when he turned toward me, I noticed a big black circle around his right eye. Smiling, I asked, Who gave you the black eye? He just grinned while Kathy gave the details. Kathy did all the talking. Bright and chatty, she answered all the questions for the others too.

They're twins! I said as I took a closer look at the two little girls sitting between Kathy and Mike. Then I looked over at Mr. Havens, and he smiled.

Yes, they're twins. Tell her your names, girls.

I'm Shirley, offered one of the little blond-headed, button-nosed twins.

What's your name? I asked the other one. I only got a few giggles from her, so Kathy answered for her.

Her name's Peggy.

Peggy and Shirley. My goodness, how do you tell them apart? I aimed that question at their father.

He replied, You can tell them apart easily when you've been around them for a while and get used to them.

They look exactly alike to me, I said, a quizzical expression crossing my face. Why, they've got dimples too!

Yes, he said. One has a dimple on the right side, and the other one has a dimple on her left side.

My goodness, I said again. Then I looked at the little boy who sat grinning behind me next to the window. What's your name? I asked.

He didn't say a word. Just grinned and took the six-shooter from its holster and shot me. Bang!

He's Mark, said Kathy.

Did you get that gun for Christmas, Mark? I asked.

Yes, ma'am, he answered.

Yes, ma'am? I asked, then looked at Mr. Havens. They've got nice manners.

How old are you, Mark? And he held up five fingers. Five? Why, you're a big boy, aren't you? He just grinned at me, silently contemplating banging me with his gun again, I bet.

It only took a short time to get out of town on the highway, and soon we turned onto a small paved road that ran alongside the main highway out of town. Then we were turning off onto a rutted gravel road lined with cedar trees. Mr. Havens turned the car into the driveway of a large white house set back in some oak trees. He parked the car between it and a small white cottage in the rear. The house faced south toward the main highway, and in the side yard facing the driveway was a swing set. It was standard equipment for a family with kids. I looked around for a tire swing but didn't see one.

A little brown dog who'd been sleeping in the sun under the slide ran to the car, barking a welcome and wiggling his whole body, happy that its people were home.

Mr. Havens got out of the car, and I opened the door on my side to let the kids out. They all met their father at the back door and waited till he unlocked it and then, in an orderly manner, walked into the house, giggling and laughing.

I followed them into the house and down a long, wide hallway to the living room at the other end of the house. The first thing I noticed were the windows that made the whole room light and friendly looking. The windows were along two sides of the large open room, curtained with maize-colored burlap curtains. The room served as a dining area on the south side and a living area on the north side. There was a large stone fireplace standing cold and gaping on that north wall and seemed to be the center of attraction in the room. There was a wooden couch and two chairs with leather cushions arranged in a semicircle in front of it.

The Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room with its decorations of popcorn, sweet gumballs, paper chains, and homemade children's ornaments. It had an old-fashioned, homey look. The heavy smell of woodsy fir was pleasant in the room. It was cold, and I shivered, glad that I'd worn my coat. I stuffed my hands deep in the pockets and buried my chin down in the warm fur collar.

You cold? he asked me.

A little, I lied. I could feel goose bumps on my legs, even through the stockings I was wearing.

Would you like a cup of coffee? he asked.

No, thank you. And then I turned to see one of the twins bringing an Etch A Sketch to show me. Very pretty, I said and found myself smiling at the crooked lines she imagined were a house.

How old are they? I asked him.

The twins are four.

How old is the oldest boy?

Mike is ten. Sure you don't want a cup of coffee? he asked as he started toward the kitchen.

Well, all right, thank you, I said, thinking perhaps it might help to warm me up. Mind if I smoke? I asked. I was getting nervous, or maybe the shaking was from being cold.

Go ahead, he said. There's an ashtray on the lamp table by the couch.

Yes, I see it. Thanks. And I walked over toward the fireplace, wishing silently that there was a roaring fire burning in it.

Returning from the kitchen, he said, Have a seat, motioning to the yellow Formica dining table as he sat down two cups of coffee. We can talk here at the table. And he pulled out a chair.

I wondered if all five children were still in the house because it was so quiet.

Well, he said when we were both seated at the dining table, have you had any experience with kids?

Yes, I have. And I told him that I'd done babysitting for my church and for friends and relatives since high school. He asked how old I was, and I told him I'd had my twentieth birthday a month ago.

After another cup of coffee, he got down to talking along the lines I wanted to hear. He asked, Are you sure this is what you want to do?

He had said in our conversation that the job was temporary. He was active-duty military, stationed at the Air Force base and had been assigned overseas for duty. The family would be leaving in three months, and so he only needed someone till March. That was okay with me, because right now, I was in a temporary bind. I needed a place to live and money to get a place of my own. I figured this would be perfect for me since I could work, make some money, and have a place to sleep while I looked for a permanent job.

So when he asked if it was what I wanted to do, I answered, Well, I'd like to try it.

"If you're sure this is what you want to do, when would you be able to start?'

Today, I replied enthusiastically. I really did need to move out before the next day. Carol had said she was moving out tomorrow, so I'd have to find a place to go, and I desperately needed a job. I had long since been without money for gas for my car or cigarettes.

He said, I'll take you back to your house and give you a chance to get your things together. If you'd like, I could come and pick you up about seven. Will that rush you too much?

Oh, gosh! No! I said, smiling. Thanks a lot, Mr. Havens. I'm sure I can do a good job.

Gene, he said. Just call me Gene. Mr. Havens is too formal.

Okay, Gene it is, I replied.

Gene had pulled out of the driveway, and I unlocked the door and went inside the house. Carol was not home. In my room, I hurried to the closet and pulled my old battered black suitcase from beneath the clothes. I took the few clothes that were hanging on hangers and folded them neatly in the suitcase I'd opened and put on the bed. I emptied dresser drawers, stuffing slips, panties, and bras on top of sweaters and jeans and piled shoes in bags on top of that. Then I headed for the bathroom and grabbed all the little things I'd need, like my razor, dusting powder, toothbrush, and my precious ten-ounce bottle of Yardley's Red Roses bath oil. Then I gathered up all the brush rollers that were scattered all over the bed, the dresser, under the bed, and in the middle of the floor and dumped them on top of my makeup in