What's Your Story?

Outside the wind was harsh and it bit at Kylie and Conner’s faces. Rachelle had given them directions to the busier part of town. They walked through the crowded sidewalks. Light raindrops came down from the sky and hit their heads. Conner put his hood up, Kylie’s jacket didn’t have one so she just put the collar up and pulled it closer to her neck.

“Where should we go first?” Conner asked over the wind.

“Somewhere warm,” she answered. “I think Rachelle said there was a market place or something. We should look there for a story. When we go back to the hotel I’ll check my email and everything. I still have to call Amber, too. When we go inside somewhere I’ll give her a quick call. Do you have to call anyone?”

“I should probably call my parents, I told them we were going on the trip and my mom wants me to check in.”

Kylie paused for a minute before asking, “How’s your dad doing?”

“Better. I talked to him yesterday and he didn’t sound as tired.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, Mom said that they might visit when I get back home.”

“Cool.”

They walked in silence; the cool wind blew water into their faces. Kylie looked around the Madison County road appreciatively; it had a quaint feeling to it. They passed a coffee shop that had a small book shop sitting next to it.

“Let’s stop somewhere and see if there’s a bus that goes to the shopping center,” Kylie said.

“Ice cream shop!” Conner exclaimed, pointing to the Marguerite’s Ice Cream Parlor. “Let’s go there.”

“You really are a child.” Kylie sighed with a shake of her head.

“But mom and pop ice cream shops are the best.”

“Oh all right.”

Conner led the way to the ice cream shop. They were the only ones in the small room. Two cases held the containers of ice cream and tiny two person tables were placed all around, a counter and barstools faced the wall made out of a window that showed the street. The walls were painted white on top and the bottom was red and white strips. Pictures and newspaper clippings hung all over the walls.

“I guess you’re going to get ice cream?” Kylie asked.

“You bet!”

While Conner went up to the cases Kylie hung her damp coat on the coat rack then looked around at the pictures. A lot of them were old, from the seventies maybe, and featured a red haired, smiling woman. One picture showed the woman outside of the shop next to the door that had a grand opening sign. Kylie continued to look at the pictures as Conner decided on which ice cream he wanted.

Kylie found a newspaper clipping from a local paper that sat over a small table which held an old checker board. She leaned over the table to read it.

’Ice Cream Shop Tragedy’
’The owner of Marguerite’s Ice Cream Parlor was met with travesty yesterday morning. Thirty-five year old Travis Hamps lost his wife, thirty-four year old Marguerite Hamps, to a short battle with cancer. Travis made the ice cream parlor for his wife almost six years ago, two and a half years before she found out about the cancer. The parlor was made, Hamps said, because his wife was never happier than when she made a visit to an old fashioned ice cream shop.
’Marguerite’s funeral will be held on Friday, May twenty-seventh, at Saint Gregory’s Church.’

“Can I help you?” a gruff voice asked.

Kylie turned and caught sight of a large middle-aged man, his mousy brown hair was receding and though his face was stern his eyes were kind.

“Hi,” Conner said immediately. “Can I get a medium cup of double chocolate ice cream with rainbow jimmies, whipped cream, and some gummy bears?”

“Sure. And for you, Miss?” the man asked Kylie.

She hesitated and Conner shot her a look. With a sigh she spoke to the man.

“Do you have any low-fat ice cream?”

“Vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry,” the man told her as he scooped out Conner’s order.

“I’ll have a medium sized low-fat strawberry, please.”

The man nodded and got both of their ice cream. After Conner paid he brought Kylie her dessert and the man came with him. Kylie turned away from the newspaper clipping she had continued to stare at.

“You interested by that?” the man asked Kylie, indicating the pictures.

“It’s sad that she died. Did you know her?”

“Marguerite?” Kylie nodded. “Of course I did, we were married for six years and I knew her for seven years before that.”

“Oh, you’re Travis Hamps?” Kylie’s face grew bright red as she realized her mistake.

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that there aren’t many pictures of you, most of them are of Marguerite.”

“She was always more photogenic than me.”

“She’s very beautiful,” Kylie agreed. Before she could say anything else to embarrass herself she began to eat her ice cream.

“Hey, Ky,” Conner said after a few moments of silence. “Why don’t you get Travis’ story?”

“My story?”

“Kylie writes a book called What’s Your Story? and what she does is go around and find people with an interesting story to tell. That’s the reason we’re in Madison County. I’m the editor of the book and I had this idea for us to take a three month trip going down the east coast to get the stories. Your past with Marguerite sounds interesting. What do you say?”

“It sounds interesting.” Travis rubbed his scruffy chin and looked at Kylie and Conner. “And this isn’t some kind of scam?”

“No, sir. After you tell us your story Kylie will get your email address or phone number and after the book comes out she’ll tell you so that you can go see it. After that you’d never have to hear from either of us ever again.”

“Is it like an interview?”

Kylie stepped in, she loved to explain what the book was about, and with and with all traces of her previous embarrassment gone she spoke to Travis. “In a way. I’ll ask a few starter questions but after that you’re on your own to tell the story unless I need to ask you to clear something up. So, would you like to tell us the story of you and Marguerite?” she looked up at Travis with hopeful eyes.

“Well it couldn’t hurt, I guess. I haven’t spoken about this in quite a few years. Have a seat.”

Kylie and Conner sat at the nearest table and Travis brought a chair over to them. Kylie took out her recorder, a notebook, and a blue Papermate pen, the best brand for Kylie. She opened to a new page and pressed record.

“Mr. Hamps,” Kylie started.

“You can call me Travis.”

“All right,” Kylie said as she quickly wrote everything down from their actions to a description of the shop. “Where would you like to start?”

“How about the day I met Marguerite and I’ll go from there?”

“Sounds perfect.” She paused for a moment as she finished up the sentence. “Okay, begin when you’re ready.”

Travis took a deep breath before beginning the story. “It was March twenty-fifth, nineteen seventy-seven. I was working for my uncle at his butcher shop. I worked there because I was a lazy man back then and my uncle was the only one that could keep me in check. Well on the twenty-fifth I was working a double shift since Markey decided he was going to go fishing right when we needed him. I was ready to pound him after I got that call but my uncle was angry with me for something I did the week before and I figured covering the shift could make up for it.

“I got to the shop around seven in the morning and I was supposed to stay there until eight that night. After a few hours I was bored out of my mind. The other kid who was working with me wasn’t much of a talker. By one I was ready to take off for the rest of the day but then the door opened and I knew I had to help; the kid was taking his lunch break. I wanted this to be over quickly so I turned around with a smile on my face and I swear my heart missed a beat.

“Marguerite was the loveliest woman I had ever seen. Her hair was so bright and it was piled on top of her head. I still remember what she wore, a light blue blouse and a long skirt. She was with her mother and they were getting a steak and some sausages. The kid came back so I made him help her mother while I spoke to Marguerite.” Travis chuckled as he looked up at the photos.

“You know how red heads are supposed to have a temper?” he waited for Kylie and Conner to nod. “Well she was no exception. I put on my most charming smile and even I knew how cocky I sounded when I started speaking to her. My first words were “How you doing?” and hers were, “Get bent” accompanied by the cutest sneer I’d ever seen. She shocked me and the kid into silence and her mother was mortified. “Marguerite, apologize this instant!” was all she could say.”

Travis chuckled again. “But Marguerite wasn’t one to apologize willingly. She left with her mother and I almost had to kill the kid for the jokes he was making. The next day I was working again and when I came back from my lunch break she was in the shop waiting for me.

“To say I was shocked was an understatement. Here was this beautiful young woman who was scowling at the world; I had no idea what to say. The moment she caught sight of me she jumped up. “Where have you been? I’ve been here for nearly an hour! This one wouldn’t tell me where you were!” She was shouting at me and pointing at the kid who was getting ready for lunch. All I could think was that this woman was the oddest I’d ever met.

“When she finally calmed down she grudgingly apologized and tried to leave. I was too quick for her. I stepped in front of the door and asked for her name but she wouldn’t tell me. Finally after ten minutes she shouted Marguerite Carter! That was more than I had hoped for so I stepped aside and let her out. The next day I found her in the phone book and I eventually found their house.

“I went to her house two days after I found her name. She had just left to go food shopping but I saw her mom inside so I knocked on the door, explained who I was, and she let me in. I spent an hour talking to her and she invited me to dinner. I left their house before Marguerite got home. That night I showed up at the Carter home at six o’clock in my best outfit. When Marguerite opened the door her face was priceless!

“Dinner went well for the most part. I was invited back for Sunday lunch which was after church. The only time I ever went to church was with the Carter family. So when Sunday morning came along I accompanied Marguerite and her mother, Susan, to church then afterwards we went back to their house. While Susan cooked I finally had a chance to talk to Marguerite. At first she would barely say anything but after I started telling her about my past partying experiences she got chattier.

“Marguerite was a rebellious teenager and once she turned eighteen she got worse. The stories she told me that afternoon were worse than some of mine!” Travis let out a loud bark of laughter. “After lunch she asked me to stay so that we could get to know each other better. Before I left that night I asked her why she was so snarky at the butcher shop. “Because I thought you either wanted to know me for my looks or you were looking for an easy girl. I for one am not an easy girl.” was her reply. I looked her right in the eye and said, “Miss Marguerite, I never once thought you were an easy girl, I actually thought you would be the hardest woman to get to know. Yes, I was impressed by what I saw but now I know that there is much more to you than your looks.” Then I pretended to tip a hat to her and I left her standing shocked in the doorway. The next day she was at the butcher shop looking for me and I had a lily for her.

“We dated for seven years before she was comfortable with marriage and I had a secure job at the butcher shop and as a handyman. I didn’t want to get married then realize afterwards that I couldn’t afford a house or anything. Marguerite worked as a secretary but I knew she wants kids and after that she would want to stay home with them. As plans for the wedding started I worked over time, picking up any extra shifts I could and I even applied at the grocery store for some extra cash. On our wedding day, May twenty-fifth nineteen eighty-four, when I saw Marguerite I knew that all of those extra hours, all of that hard work, was worth it in the end when I saw Marguerite’s smiling face as she walked towards me.” Travis paused for a moment and Kylie finished writing.

“You’ve barely gotten a chance to eat your ice cream,” Travis pointed out to Kylie.

“I’m not that hungry. Conner, do you want it?”

“Sure! This is great stuff. I always say that desserts from independently owned shops are better than chain desserts.” Conner picked up Kylie’s melted ice cream, stirred it a little, and dug in.

“What happened after you were married?” Kylie asked.

“Well after we started dating Marguerite and I would still getting fights because I ended up saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. After a few bad fights I went to Susan and asked her what I could do to make Marguerite happy after these fights. “Get her a cup of rocky road ice cream,” she said and so after the next fight that’s what I did. It works, surprisingly. Marguerite was so happy with the ice cream and that night she told me that rocky road was her grandma’s favorite ice cream. She would always buy it for Marguerite when she was upset or hurt. So rocky road was her special treat for when things went wrong.

“I never forgot that and after I proposed I looked for an empty place near here to buy so that I could create her wedding present. I decided to make this ice cream shop and it was hard keeping it a secret. I finished it a few months after we were married. We were already living in Madison and I was working so it wasn’t hard for me to slip away and come here to work on the place. Right before our seven month anniversary I finished everything. When I brought Marguerite here and showed her the sign outside she almost broke down crying. The first year was rough but after our son Dylan was born things seemed to get better.” Travis stopped and he had a pained expression.

“Then,” he continued, his voice thick, “then Marguerite went to the doctor and she was told she had cancer. Dylan wasn’t even a year old when we found out. The next four years were a blur of being in and out of the hospital and doctor offices, of working over time to pay all of the bills, and of living in constant worry that I would get a call from the hospital saying Marguerite had died. In eighty-nine she started to get worse. She was in the hospital over night for days, sometimes two or three weeks at a time. I would call the hospital or her during every lunch break and if I got a bad feeling I would call.

“In the last year of her life Marguerite was hooked up to machines and Dylan cried for her so much. It broke my heart to bring him to the hospital but either Susan, who was living with us, or I would bring him every day Marguerite was in the hospital. During the last week she was really bad. I was spending as much time with her as possible, I knew what was coming. On February twelfth Marguerite died with Dylan, Susan, and me in the room. I held her hand as she died and I have never cried as much as I have in the week that followed. All of the funeral preparations had been made already and she was buried three days later. It’s been nineteen, almost twenty years, and the pain still hasn’t gone away. I still miss Marguerite and I always will.”

Travis wiped at his eyes and Kylie stopped writing for a moment to dab at the tears that had been falling from her eyes. Travis looked at her and Conner who was trying to look strong but even he had been affected by the story.

“Well aren’t we a sight,” Travis joked.

“I am so sorry, Travis,” Kylie choked out. “Everything you went through, it just sounds so hard and you were so strong for Marguerite.”

“I had to be but at night when there was nothing to distract me I would break down. Thank you for asking me to tell you the story. I haven’t really talking about everything in years.”

“Thank you for telling us. For the stories we usually take a picture of the story teller but do you have a copy of a picture of Marguerite and you that you would want put in?”
Travis thought for a moment. “Yes. It’s in the back, let me get it.”

Travis walked to the back and Kylie stopped the recorder. While she waited she went back to the first page and titled it Marguerite’s Ice Cream Parlor’. Travis came back to them with a piece of paper in his hand.

“This was taken the day the shop opened.”

Kylie and Conner looked at the picture. A younger Travis stood next to a young, smiling Marguerite who sat on one of the stools. A cup of ice cream was in her hand and both of them looked so happy.

“This is perfect,” Kylie said quietly, her voice was full of tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.