Wilma's Last Dance

WILMA’S LAST DANCE

A most unusual day, the sun was shining and the air was warm. The South Dakota prairie would normally be much colder in November. The outside thermometer registered a balmy 50 degrees. It felt good to the five Miller children to be able to remove their old black woolen stockings and shed their heavy clothes and long john underwear. Light cotton was the watchword of the day. Each had his chores around the farm but there was a lightheartedness in the air. The dreary long winter months had a short reprieve and everyone took advantage of it.

1940 brought in some renewed hope for the prairie people. The rains were returning to the land little by little, crops were starting to be harvested again, family gardens were yielding fresh vegetables and the black blizzards of the “dirty thirties” were far and few between. They were learning how to manage the gift of the prairie, the soil that was so precious. There was a war going on in Europe but that had nothing to do with the United States or the young people that lived on the land. That would change soon but for now it was a time to work hard, play hard and enjoy the bounty of their efforts after almost 10 years of depression.

Wilma was the oldest girl of the Miller family and at 16 she was beginning to develop her own style. Up until the year before all the girls just got “bowl” haircuts. Their father cut their blonde hair the same way, just below the ear, straight around in a matter-of-fact haircut but Wilma decided it was just unbecoming of a woman her age so she started managing her own blossoming beauty which did not include “the haircut.”

Wilma was a slight girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, a product of her European roots. Her father had come to this country from Germany and was processed through Ellis Island, her mother was part of a small community of German immigrants that loved the land and tried hard to adopt the customs of the country they came to know as their own.

Her mother Phyllis called her in to the house.

“Wilma, honey we have some cream to take in to town to the Locker Plant, can you and Thurber drive in and deliver it for me?”

Wilma loved going to town but she especially loved going to the locker plant. James worked there for his father and James was her secret fantasy. He was every local girl’s secret fantasy.

“Okay mama, I’ll holler at Thurber and we’ll get right over there. I just need to freshen up a bit.”

With that she was out the door yelling at her brother Thurber to get the old truck ready. Thurber was 18 and the oldest and felt the responsibility of his siblings but he especially took good care of Wilma. She was becoming a very pretty young lady and he was a very protective brother. He was planning on going in the service, hopefully the Navy so he could “see the world”. He had already spoken to a recruiter and although he had not told anyone his intentions, his dream was to travel. He had his dreams too.

Wilma ran to her corner of the room she shared with her two younger sisters where she had her makeup and brush laid out. It wasn’t much, a small vanity but it was hers and the younger girls knew it was off limits. Looking in her little mirror, she applied her mascara, a little rouge and her special tube of lipstick. Then she brought out the pretty blouse she saved for the dances, her formfitting skirt and her new shoes. She had ordered those from Ward’s catalog and she had never worn them but they were beautiful and if anything was going to impress James, this would. Her shoes were patent leather with a small heel and a strap that went over her instep.

When she came out to get in the truck her mother stopped her at the front door.

“Wilma you take a jacket honey and why are you wearing your new shoes today?”

“Aw, mama do I have to? It’s so pretty out I just feel like dancing. These are my dancing shoes.”

“Go get your jacket now young lady.”

Wilma reluctantly grabbed her old scruffy jacket off the chair knowing full well she would not wear it. In her haste she almost forgot the metal can full of cream. That was their cash money for special things like white sugar and coffee. Wilma’s mother was saving for a little round pot belly stove to put in the corner of the kitchen so they wouldn’t have to heat up the big cook stove all the time. She almost had enough to buy it and loved the thought of sitting in a quiet warm corner drinking a cup of coffee with her husband on a cold morning, just the two of them.

Town was about a mile due west of the farm. The road was dirt and rutted from years of use and ran like a ribbon across the prairie. It connected to several other roads all heading to the two-lane highway just outside of town. These roads had a history of their own. Transients walked these roads on their way to who-knew-where, families traveled in beat-up old vehicles hoping for a better life and cars drove under a full moon late at night heading home from a local dance, the faint smell of skunk in the air. Wilma and Thurber were once more following the well-worn trail to town.

They got to the locker plant, the most important business in town outside of the grain elevator and general store. Wilma looked at Thurber who was busy with a list of his own.

“Thurber why don’t you go on to the general store. I’ll meet you there shortly. I can handle this can of cream. You start picking out what mama wants and I’ll be right there.”

Thurber knew exactly what she wanted and he sat for a moment contemplating what he should do.

“OK, Wilma, but if you ain’t down to the store in about 10 minutes, I’m coming to look for you.”

She was giddy as she stepped inside the old, worn building and there behind the counter was James!

Her voice left her so she just handed him the can which he took from her brushing her hand as he did so.

She blushed outwardly. It was like he read her mind and he smiled that big beautiful smile which charmed every girl in the county. James was the team captain of his baseball team at school, he swam in the dam in the summer along with the other kids and he worked hard for his father at the plant. He was also an A student, smart AND good looking.

“How are you Wilma? It’s been a little while since I saw you. You going to the dance Saturday night?”

Wilma choked on her own tongue but managed to say one word, “yes.”

He knew he was charming her and he loved it.

“Maybe we could dance a few Wilma. Would you dance with me?”

“Uh, oh sure.” Was all she could say.

He paid her $1.47 for the cream and returned her empty can.

“See you Saturday night. By the way Wilma, you sure look pretty today.”

Wilma ran and skipped all the way down the street to the grocery store. The grocery store was lined with wooden shelves full of everything imaginable and bins with vegetables and when available, fruit. The wooden floor smelled of oil rubbed on it to keep the dust down and there was always a rotten potato in the bunch. Thurber had already picked up the coffee mama wanted and was eyeballing a piece of bubble gum. He decided against it since he’d have to buy for all the kids and he couldn’t spend the money right now and he couldn’t go home with double bubble on his breath.

The weather was turning while the kids were shopping. Wilma had to go to the drugstore and look at the makeup while Thurber looked over the comic books. He loved Superman, he loved the smell of the ink on the paper and the perfumes and oiled floors. Next to the café, this was his favorite store.

When they stepped out of the drugstore the sky was beginning to darken and it was much colder than when they went in.

“Wow, time to go Wilma. It’s getting colder and we need to get home.”

They took their purchases and jumped in the old truck. Thurber turned it towards the road home as it started to rain.

The weather came on like a madman. What had been a wonderful, warm day was turning in to an angry

Demon with a life of its own. The wind came up with a vengeance and it started raining hard which quickly turned to ice and snow. Wilma put on the flimsy jacket she brought along but poor Thurber had not brought anything. He was in short sleeves and coveralls.

The weather became so fierce they could not see the road. The only line of site they had were the telephone poles but even those were hard to distinguish as the wind whipped snow around the truck. They were in whiteout conditions when the old truck sputtered and came to a halt. The wind was now blowing at about 50 mph. The truck just died.

Wilma grabbed the old blanket off the back of the bench seat and wrapped herself up in it. Thurber found an old pair of gloves behind the seat and an old baseball cap. That was what they had to keep warm and it wasn’t enough.

“Wilma I have to get home to get help. I need you to stay here in the truck but I’ll be back. It can’t be but about a quarter of a mile to home. I can make it.”

“NO Thurber, you can’t go. Please, we will both wrap up in this blanket and Papa will come find us.”

“We won’t make it Wilma if I don’t get help.”

“Then here take the blanket. I have my jacket.”

Thurber knew he needed the blanket so he hesitantly accepted it. He stepped out of the truck to a bitter, cold snow that was blowing horizontally by this time. His back was to the storm and a wind gust almost knocked him down. He headed off in the direction of the house, not being able to see anything. It soon became obvious to Thurber he would not be able to find his way so he turned back straight in to the wind hoping to get back to the truck. The wind was fickle and what had been blowing from the West now came out of the northwest. The bitch! Thurber was lost in a sea of white and bitter cold. He started calling to Wilma, hoping she would hear him over the howl of a raging blizzard. A true South Dakota blizzard!

Wilma curled up in a fetal position shivering uncontrollably. The jacket wasn’t nearly enough. She decided to tear the old cushions off the one side of the truck and wrap them around her. It helped very little. She prayed Thurber had found his way home and he would be along with Dad very soon.

After what seemed an eternity but probably no more than an hour or so she no longer felt so cold. She could not feel her feet or hands but they weren’t hurting anymore. There was actually a calm that came over her and soothed her. Then she heard someone calling her name.

“Wilma,” again “Wilma”. And she knew it was James!

“I’m here James, I’m right here.”

Then he was there asking her for a dance! She said yes she would love to have this dance with him but she was wearing her new shoes and didn’t know if she should wear them while on the dance floor.

“Should I take my shoes off James?”

“Only if you want to Wilma. They are as pretty as the girl wearing them and I’d hate to have anything happen to them.”

She removed her beautiful patent leather shoes and stepped out of the truck for her dance with James leaving the door open to the elements, her last dance.

It became dark and with the dark night and the howling wind the blizzard became unbearable. The Millers, Mama, Papa and the other children waited anxiously for the two older children hoping, praying they had found refuge in town. By morning the blizzard had abated somewhat and Papa set out on the old tractor. He went to the next farm which was just over the hill to get help from the neighbor and between the two men they started looking. The phones were down but the women kept trying to raise someone on the party line. Finally someone came on the line and a search party was sent out from town. James was in the rescue group and he had seen them leaving town so Mama knew the children were last seen heading home. That was an eternity ago.

It took several hours to reach the old truck and the men both knew what they would find seeing one door open. The door was wide open with no sign of Thurber or Wilma. Snow was piled high around the truck and there were no tracks left, no way to locate them. The blizzard made sure to hide the evidence. The old firetruck came up from behind and three of the towns people jumped off and came running. They all searched until finally they found them. Wilma was very close to the truck, Thurber was not far away either but it was evident they never had a chance.

The children weren’t the only ones to die that day. Miss Franz the school teacher had gone to the one room school to do some paperwork and never made it back to the boardinghouse. There were some duck hunters, men and their sons who were out for the day, such a warm beautiful day. They never made it home.

Mr. Miller went out a few days later to retrieve the old truck still sitting where it had died, where his children had died and when he looked inside he saw Wilma’s new shoes, her patent leather shoes with the small heel and strap across the instep. He made sure she wore her new shoes when she was buried in the small, lonely cemetery on the prairie so that she could dance all she wanted someday and Papa was sure she would. It wouldn’t be Wilma’s last dance only she would have her shoes next time.