However, as the school year grew closer to the end they concentrated on the upcoming high school prom and movie stars took a backseat. Norma would be going with Macky, of course, and Patsy Marie would go with her cousin, as usual. Anna Lee was the only one who had not committed to any of the boys who had asked her so far. The really overriding question was what they were going to wear. All the girls in high school, no matter who they were, wanted store-bought prom dresses. Wearing a “homemade” prom dress would be akin to sprouting a big red H on your forehead. Although Neighbor Dorothy had a degree, made her own patterns, and was one of the best dressmakers in the state, she knew that nothing would do but to let Anna Lee go down to Morgan Brothers department store with the rest of them and buy her dress off the rack. It would cost about three times as much as it would for her to make it, but her daughter had to have a store-bought dress or die of humiliation. At least that’s what she said.
One of the other lures of buying a dress at Morgan Brothers department store was the saleslady, Mrs. Marion Nordstrom, who was in charge of the Better Dresses Department. If Mrs. Nordstrom helped you pick out your dress, then you had arrived. All the girls in Anna Lee’s group thought she was one of the most exquisite creatures who had ever lived. Tall and aloof, always impeccably dressed in the latest fashions, she was their ideal. A war widow, she had come all the way from San Francisco, California, and the wardrobe she had brought with her was the constant topic of all the high school girls. “She never wears the same thing twice,” they declared in admiration. After school Anna Lee and Patsy Marie would stroll into the store and pretend to shop just to see what she had on that day.
Anna Lee even copied the way she wore her hair piled high up on her head. The hairdo, Dorothy suggested, might be a little mature for a girl who still wore bobby socks and penny loafers but Anna Lee thought it was the last word in sophistication. The only concern Dorothy ever had about Anna Lee was that she might be getting a little spoiled. In every school there is always one girl that all the boys are crazy about and from first grade on Anna Lee had been that girl.
The only male who seemed to be oblivious to her charms was Bobby, who could not wait to torment her every chance he got. And she in turn could not wait to run and tattle on him for every little thing he did and because she was older everybody always believed her side of the story. Consequently, Bobby was not at all happy about the fact that Anna Lee had arrived on earth six years before he had. A fact that she never let him forget. He hated it when the family sat around and told stories about things that had happened before he was born. He would ask over and over, “But where was I?” His mother would answer, “You weren’t here yet,” at which point his sister would always sigh and say, “Those were the good old days. I was still an only child,” or something equally obnoxious. Not only did it irritate him that he had not arrived sooner; it completely baffled him.
No matter how hard he tried, Bobby could just not seem to comprehend the world without him. Where had he been? What had he been doing? One afternoon, confined to the house because Luther Griggs was floating around the neighborhood waiting to beat him up again, he took the opportunity to follow his mother around the kitchen, asking her the same old questions.
“But if I wasn’t here, where was I?”
“You weren’t born yet,” she said, slicing potatoes.
“But where was I before I was born?”
“You were just a twinkle in your daddy’s eye, as they say. Could you hand me the butter?”
“When I was born was I already me or did I just come here and then I was me?”
“You were always you.”
He handed her the butter plate. “Would I still have been me if I had been born in China—or would I be a Chinaman?”
“Oh, Bobby, I wish you wouldn’t ask me all these silly questions. All I know is that you are a part of Daddy and me and you are who you’re supposed to be.”
“Yeah, but what if you hadn’t married Daddy, then what would have happened?”
“I don’t know,” she said as she greased a glass casserole dish with the stick of butter. “I can only tell you that you were born at the exact time and place you were supposed to be, and besides I wished for you.”
“You did?” said a surprised Bobby. “Like on a wishbone or something?”
“Something like that.”
“What did you say when you wished?”
“I said, I want a little boy with brown eyes and brown hair that looked just like you, and here you are. So, you see, you’re a wish come true. What do you think about that?”
“Wow.” Bobby stood there for a minute thinking it over. Then he said, “How do you know you didn’t get the wrong boy?”
“Because don’t forget, there is somebody up there that knows better than you and I.”
Dorothy went over and turned the oven on and pulled the cheese out of the icebox as Bobby trailed behind her. “Yeah, but what if He got mixed up and made a mistake? What if I was born in the wrong year or the wrong country even . . . ?”
“He doesn’t make mistakes.”
“But what if He did?”
“He doesn’t.”
“Yeah, but suppose He did, then what would happen?”
Dorothy placed the casserole dish in the oven. She stood at the sink to wash her hands with Bobby right behind her, waiting. After she dried her hands she turned around and looked at him. “Well, Bobby, is there somewhere else you would rather be than here with us?”
Bobby immediately said, “No . . . I was just wondering, that’s all,” and tried to look as innocent as possible, pretending to suddenly remember that he had to water his daddy’s bed of fishing worms in the backyard.
He had not been entirely truthful with his mother. Sometimes at night he would secretly fantasize that one day someone would knock on their door and say, “We are here for the boy.” Then his parents would come and get him and tell him who he really was. He was really the rightful prince of England and they had just been keeping him until he was twelve. Then he would ride through the streets of cheering people and as he passed by they would bow and whisper, “It’s the young prince.” All his teachers at school would curtsy and bow. As he went by his house his parents and grandmother would all be gathered together on the front porch and would bow, too. He would quickly motion for them to stand up and Anna Lee would run to the carriage and grovel at his feet in tears. “I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you, Your Majesty. I didn’t know who you really were. Forgive me, forgive me.” “You are . . . forgiven,” he would say with a sweep of his hand. He would be a gracious, forgiving ruler for all the people except for Luther Griggs. He would have him arrested and dragged through the streets in chains, crying and begging for mercy but to no avail. Ah, the pure joy of it all.
Then there were other times when he daydreamed he was really the son of Roy Rogers and Dale Evans who had been kidnapped at birth but found at last. There would be another parade down Main Street, only this time he would be riding on the back of Trigger with Roy tipping his big cowboy hat to all as they rode by. Dale and Gabby Hayes would be riding beside them smiling and waving to the cheering crowds. He would go to live with Roy and Dale on the Double R Bar Ranch and bring his Elmwood Springs family with him. His days would be spent riding the range for bad guys, nights sitting around the campfire listening to the Sons of the Pioneers sing cowboy songs, and they would all live happily ever after. “Happy trails to you . . . until we meet again.”