Griselda Ann’s eyes widened. “Oh, we mustn’t stay up late tomorrow. We will attend church service Sunday morning, and yawning during a sermon is most certainly a sin.”
Emmett
WAS HE REALLY graduating? The week of final examinations had gone so fast that Emmett still couldn’t believe it was over. He’d prepared well and performed his best on every exam. Spence had poked fun at his undivided focus, but he’d been given money by the college to take these classes. He owed the scholarship committee members his best efforts. Between examinations, he visited each of the businesses in town that had posted job openings and talked to the hiring agents. Some were blunt, some acted sheepish, and others seemed flat-out bored, but every one of them sent him away with a “No thanks.” The reason? His degree.
“Sorry, young man,” the agent at the chicken-processing plant, the kindest of the men, had told him, “but there ain’t even a ghost of a chance we’ll hire you. Somebody with your education ain’t gonna be happy yankin’ feathers from a chicken carcass. No, you need to hire on at a bank or big department store or even with one o’ the minin’ outfits—they got office jobs, too, y’know. But we can’t use ya here. Nope, not here.”
The man’s dismal statements rolled in the back of Emmett’s mind when he should have been listening to the guest speaker at the graduation ceremony. Maybe he shouldn’t have come for the ceremony. But he’d worked so hard for his diploma. It seemed as if he’d earned the right to cross the stage and shake the college president’s hand like the others. So he lined up with everyone else and waited his turn. Since they went in alphabetical order, he waited a pretty long time while the sun scorched through his robe and the wind tried to yank the cardboard hat from his head.
“Emmett Emil Tharp.”
Emmett watched the toes of his shoes poking out from the hem of his gown—how did ladies make walking in gowns look so graceful?—and climbed the three wobbly steps to the stage set up in the middle of the football field. There wasn’t anybody in the audience celebrating his accomplishments. Nobody who clapped extra hard or let out whoops of joy for him, as happened for many of his fellow graduates. The half-hearted applause given to be polite tried to dull some of the shine of receiving his rolled-up sheepskin from President McVey, but he told himself to be proud, the way Maw would be proud. He could imagine what she’d say to him right then: “Son, you’re the first college graduate to hail from Boone’s Holler, Kentucky. Just ’cause nobody else knows you done somethin’ extra special don’t mean it ain’t special.”
Planting Maw’s voice in his head helped, and he left the stage with a smile and a firm grip on his diploma.
When the last student received his diploma, the dean of the College of Law stepped up to the podium and delivered a lengthy prayer of blessing over the graduating class of 1936. At his somber “amen,” as they’d planned before marching in procession onto the field, the male graduates snatched off their caps and threw them in the air with shouts of glee. Emmett threw his cap, but he didn’t holler. A lump seemed stuck in his throat, and a shout couldn’t escape.
Students milled in a mob, some of the girls hugging one another and most of the boys slapping one another on the back. Emmett worked his way to the edge of the group, holding his diploma against his chest. He wanted to keep it nice until he got home and showed it to Maw and Mr. Halcomb. After they’d taken their fill of gawking at it, he’d put it away in his trunk, and it could get smashed flat in there.
Spence trotted up to him, grinning big. He’d already gotten rid of his gown somewhere and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He looked a lot more comfortable than Emmett felt. Spence gave Emmett’s shoulder a whack. “Well, ol’ bloke, I reckon this is it, time to say goodbye.”
Emmett couldn’t honestly say he and Spence had been good friends. Not like he’d been with his longtime buddy from back home, Shay Leeson. But after four years of rooming together, he’d gotten used to the freckle-faced man. He might even miss seeing him every day.
He bounced his fist on Spence’s shoulder. “Reckon we’ll see each other in our room later on. Still have to pack up. No need to say goodbye yet.”
Spence shook his head. “I’m headin’ home with my folks now. Dad’ll send somebody next week for my stuff. ’Course”—he put his hands on his hips and gave a mock scowl—“that means I’m trusting you not to take my clothes back to Boone’s Hollow with you.”
Emmett laughed. Spence was six inches shorter and probably forty pounds lighter. Not even Maw, who was clever with a needle, would be able to stretch the fabric and make Spence’s clothes fit Emmett. But maybe she could shrink them down for his little brother. The eight-year-old was closer to Spence’s size than Emmett was. Emmett couldn’t imagine Dusty wearing such fancy duds, though. “Your stuff’s safe, Spence. You can trust me on that.”
“Aw, I know it. Just joshin’ you. Well…” He walked backward and gave a salute. “Nice knowin’ you, Emmett Tharp. Take good care now.”
Emmett waved, then turned toward Bradley Hall. He worked his way between groups of chattering, celebrating students and families, feeling more alone with every step. He’d hoped for a job here in Lexington, but the kind of job he wanted—the kind for which people would hire a man with a BS in commerce—probably wouldn’t exist until the country got on its feet again. That might be years from now. So there really wasn’t any other choice except to do what Spence said and go back to Boone’s Hollow.
He reached the men’s dormitory and slung off his robe, careful not to catch his diploma in the fabric. He flopped the robe over his arm and climbed the stairs. Slow. Plodding. Putting things off. Because once he packed up, what would he do? Go home, for sure. He wanted to see Maw, Paw, and Dusty. But after that…what?
Like the wind yanking at his hat, a remembrance breezed through him. What had the hiring agent at the chicken plant told him he should do? Try hiring on with a mining outfit because they had office jobs. He came to a halt midstep, letting out a huff. Why hadn’t he thought of it himself? Of course the mining companies needed office workers. And what better mining company to work for than the US Coal & Coke Company in Lynch, where Paw had worked for the last fifteen years?
Hope lifted his spirits. He jogged the rest of the way to his room and dragged his old carpetbag from under his bed. He’d pack, head to the station, and catch the first train to Lynch.
Boone’s Hollow
Bettina Webber
BETTINA TAPPED HER FINGERTIP ON the big black number in the middle of the square on the calendar page. She nudged her friend with her elbow. “This here’s the day, Glory. Emmett’s graduation-from-college day. He’s all done with his schoolin’ now, so he’ll be comin’ home.”