Two teenaged boys take summer jobs at a remote hotel in the mountains of western Virginia. They learn about life, love and the harsh realities of romance.
The Orkney Springs Hotel is tucked away in the dense green foliage of the western Allegheny Mountains of Virginia like a faded wedding cake salvaged from the Civil War. Its white clapboard façade and spare columns call out to the silent hills, awaiting an answer from celebrants who never reply. Occasionally, someone with family connections to the hotel that go back for generations will throw a gay wedding reception there and bring a throng of well-heeled Richmonders in for the weekend. But come Sunday night, the place is once again as silent and forgotten as the nearby graveyard.
Once a fashionable resort in the last half of the 1800s, Orkney Springs offered a cool and quiet respite from the demands of city life. The hotel was built as a destination in itself, a place where families would ensconce for several weeks during the summer months. It offered a large and welcoming lobby, a cavernous dining room, and a glorious ballroom above the entrance fitted with oak floors that opened out onto the broad veranda. During the Civil War, the Orkney Springs Hotel served as a Confederate hospital, and local legend has it that on the day of Lee's surrender one can hear cries and moans arise from deep in the hotel and echo across the hills.
Although listed in the National Register of Historic Places and mentioned in most of the touring guides to Shenandoah County, the Orkney Springs Hotel remains remote and all but forgotten by the world outside—a quiet forest flower clinging to its ancient roots for a frail survival within the shadow of Great North Mountain.
But one person knew the hotel quite well. Indeed, Buck Wald was a veteran who'd already worked there one summer as a waiter when he first described it to Jess Witherspoon. The two were cruising one Sunday morning in the 1938 Chevrolet that belonged to Buck's father, a Latin instructor at St. George's School in Richmond. It was a warm early spring day and they were headed for a densely wooded area near the Country Club of Virginia golf course where they could park and hide out instead of going to Sunday school.
Dressed in suits and neckties, their shocks of hair plastered down neatly, the teenagers knew the routine well. Buck brought a hip flask filled with vodka; Jess brought a copy of Jack Kerouac's "Mexico City Blues." The old car rattled and rolled down the bumpy dirt road that led from the edge of the golf course into the woods. Buck liked to speed shift the gear stick mounted on the steering column. Missing its plastic cap, the gearshift stuck out a naked piece of metal around which Buck cupped his fingers and executed bizzare and hilarious maneuvers. Slightly built and dark, he looked like a cross between a Mexican pimp and Huckleberry Hound.
Buck handed Jess a Marlborough; they lit up using the car's rusty cigarette lighter.
"Old man asked me last Sunday how come his car was covered with mud and leaves when I got home," Buck said, blowing an undulating blue smoke ring toward the windshield.
"What did you tell him?" Jess nursed a smirk. His freckled face topped with a whisk of light brown hair gave him an elfin look.
"I told him his car is a piece of shit."
They burst out laughing, and Buck took a deep hit from the flask, then handed it to Jess. He gagged at first, but then found the alcohol soothing, comforting.
"How do you say that in Latin?"
"Maximus turdus est."
"I see," Jess replied, studiously. "How about a couple of stanzas of "Mehico Seety Bluez, huckety-bop?"
"Reet, mano, please proceed."
They took turns passing the poetry, cigarettes and vodka between themselves. Occasionally a volatile cloud of laughter would explode to punctuate the otherwise serious proceedings.
"Hey, that part reminds me of the waitress who fucked me last summer at Orkney Springs," Buck said wistfully.
"Everything reminds you of the waitress who fucked you last summer."
"No shit. Hey! Why don’t you come and join me this year? It'll be a ball."
"Will I get fucked by a waitress, too?"
"Why not?"
Jess shot Buck a sideways glance that said, If you're messing with my head I'm gonna whip your ass. Buck got the message.
"I'm telling you, I never expected it," Buck continued, slightly hysterical. "This chick just comes up to my room one night with a bottle in each hand and asks if she can come in."
"Well, did you let her in?"
"Of course, you schmuck! Then she let me in—many times. We just kept it up a couple of times a week all summer. What a hot little mink."
"Well, you've got my attention. When are you going to this pussy palace in the mountains?"
"Right after school lets out, probably second week of June. I'll come home after Labor Day weekend."
"Wow! You really did mean all summer."
"They way it works is, you earn a flat amount for the whole summer plus tips. You collect your tips as you go along, and the hotel pays you one lump sum for the whole season after Labor Day. I usually come home with $1,000 or more."
Pussy, money, booze. Pussy, money, booze. Pussy, money, booze…
"Well, what do you think?"
"I think it sounds almost too good to be true ," Jess said, dreamily. "Where do I sign up?"
"I'll be writing to the hotel soon, and I'll tell them I have a friend who'd also like to work there. We should probably know something in about a month."
"It sure beats the hell out of summer school."
Buck glanced at his wristwatch. "Fucking-A, man, time to grind this baby." The engine turned over slowly with the characteristic Chevrolet whine, then caught and a plume of white smoke blew out the pipes. He jammed the stick into reverse and floored the accelerator, then slammed on the brakes. Their heads whipped back and forth like disembodied rubber bolo balls.
Then Buck thrust it into first gear, popped the clutch and floored the Chevy again. They emerged from the woods fishtailing in the dirt and sucking a giant cloud of dust and smoke behind, laughing hysterically.
The old Chevrolet hunkered down with its weight of books, clothes, records and people as Buck drove it slowly up into the green mountains. On the curves, Jess tensed his body for fear the car would topple over the edge of the road and go tumbling down the mountainside. To cope with his anxiety, he lit a cigarette and opened a warm beer. Then he handed one to Buck.
"Agghhh! This tastes like rancid cat pee!" Buck protested.
"It's better for you when it's warm," Jess answered. "Retains all of its vitamins."
"Phooey!" Buck poured his beer out of the window. "I'll wait for a nice cool vodka tonic."
Familiar roads and landscapes slipped away as they drove on deeper into the Alleghenies. The air got thinner and cooler, but the sun still warmed them inside the black car. Jess thought of his father, dressed in a natty Brooks Brothers suit, enjoying a cocktail on the lawn at the Country Club of Virginia after a game of golf. And he formed a cherished image in his mind of the blonde girl who lived one black away he'd seen walking home from school. At last his desire overcame his shyness and he walked up to her and introduced himself one afternoon. He walked with her to her house—a sprawling colonial estate with swimming pool and tennis courts—and made nervous conversation. She laughed often, and her lavender eyes, freckles, and golden ringlets mesmerized him. Mad with teenaged desire, he finally called Charlotte Peyton to ask for a date. In ever-so-polite Richmond style, she let him know that she was "steady" with Randy Raleigh, the lawyer's son who also lived not more than a few blocks away. Jess tried to believe that he had a chance with this earth angel, but he knew otherwise. His frustration made him want to drive too fast, drink too much, eat dirt and howl at the moon.
"So, do we ever get a day off at this place?" Jess said.
"Not really. We're supposed to work every meal." He gave his friend a querulous smile. "That's why I wanted you to come with me. This way, we can trade Sundays so we'll get some time off."
"You mean, you worked non-stop last summer? No time off?"
"Well, yes, actually. It was worth it for the money."
"Wow! I wish you'd told me this before I signed on." He stroked his chin. "Does the labor department know about how they exploit minors?"
"Interesting question. Major Bemis, the owner, is part of a huge mountain clan that owns most of the land in those parts. I don't suppose it would do much good to file a complaint because it would probably just go before his cousins."
"Jesus! Welcome to Tobacco Road!"
Buck made one of his goofy smiles, and shrugged. "The waitresses have to work
the same shifts. I think that's one reason I scored so much. We were always together—comrades in arms, and in bed."
"So, tell me about this honey you were porking."
"Her name is Sarah, and she's from Roanoke. She'd just finished her freshman year at Martha Washington when she came to The Ork. She's about 18 and she has short black hair, a really nice body, and a sweet personality. I hope she's coming again this summer. Last time I heard from her, she hadn't made up her mind."
Up higher into the green mountains the Chevy chugged, until they finally reached a promontory where Buck pulled over and cut the engine. A hiss of steam shot upward from the engine bonnet. They sat on the stone wall that overlooked the Shenandoah Valley, and drank in the intoxicating stillness. Buck unwrapped some sandwiches from their waxed paper covers, and they crammed food into their gullets, washed down with more warm beer. Just as Jess glanced at his wristwatch, a cool breeze fanned across the peak and gave them comfort. It was an invigorating brace of mountain air that made them anxious to reach their destination. So they returned to the car and began the final stretch, which was mercifully downhill.
As the air rushed into the front seat, Jess could see the white-columned hotel directly ahead. He strained to see better and as they approached, the Orkney Springs Hotel seemed at once smaller and more derelict than he'd imagined. The wrap-around front porch was rotting out, and they had to be careful where they put their feet. Buck led them directly to the kitchen behind the entrance, where they spied a large black man in white coat and chef's hat peeling potatoes over a massive stainless steel pot.
"Jubie!" Buck yelled out.
The man turned on his three-legged stool, squinted, and a smile crossed his face.
"Well, godawmighty, is that you Buck?"
They embraced, and Buck's skinny arms barely reached around Jubie's ursine shoulders.
"Hey, this is my buddy Jess," Buck reached out his arm. "Jess is gonna be a waiter this summer with me."
"Pleased to meet you," Jubie said, enfolding his hand with a massive black paw. "Don't listen to Buck here. He thinks he knows everything and he don't know shit."
The three burst into laughter.
"Well, he's been telling me about all the waitresses up here," Jess said.
"What?" Jubie registered a feigned expression of disbelief. "Ain't no waitresses here. Buck musta been smoking something."
Buck slapped him gently on the shoulder. "You're just jealous 'cause you're married."
"Naw. Just too busy cooking all the time!"
After a few more greetings, Buck led them to their room in the back of the hotel annex, across the street from the main building and facing away from the lake toward the base of a foothill that rose at a 45-degree angle into a tangle of thick trees and underbrush. The place smelled dank and damp, and the ancient wallpaper drooped in strips and sheets from the plaster underneath. The floorboards creaked and groaned as they walked, while the stifling afternoon sun penetrated through large, bare windows into the otherwise subterranean atmosphere. Despite the sunlight, there was a damp chill in the air.
"Is this where you stayed last summer?" Jess said.
"No. Last summer we stayed on the other side, facing the lake, but they closed that part because it was starting to collapse," he said cheerfully.
Buck wrestled the rusted key into the ancient lock, and as he struggled to turn the key, the heavy wooden door swung open and they realized there was no catch on the door.
"That's OK," he reassured Jess. "Nobody ever comes to this building unless they work here. Besides, it'll make it easier for the girls to come visit us!"
They unpacked their gear in the cavernous room with high ceilings, and Jess set up his small stereo. He played Brubeck's "That Lonesome Road," sat on the floor and smoked a Marlborough. The unmade beds were great creaking iron structures from the Civil War that sagged in their midst. After making up his bed, Jess dropped into it and rolled over, too tired and stunned to think.
"Why do they call him Jubie?" he asked Buck.
"It's short for Jubilation."
They reported for work at 5 a.m. Monday for the breakfast shift. After grabbing a quick bowl of corn flakes, they put on their white jackets and stood at the back of the cavernous dining room to await guests. Jess noticed that the hardwood floors were lacquered and shined to a brilliant sheen. The cream-colored walls looked and smelled freshly painted. Rows of tables were draped with white linen and outfitted with heavy silverware. In the center of each table was a perky floral arrangement—placed before their arrival by the waitresses and busboys. At last, a black-and-white streak of a girl whished past them and Buck barked: "Don’t you even say hello to your old friends?"
The waitress spun around and, when she recognized him, ran to put her arms around Buck. Their bodies and hips stuck to one another for what seemed to Jess an indecent period of time, Finally Buck turned and pointed an arm toward Jess.
"Sarah, this is my buddy from Richmond—Jess Witherspoon."
As they shook hands, Jess felt an electrical charge from her presence. Her feline gray eyes shone with a spellbinding luster. "Welcome to Orkney Springs!" she said. "We work hard here, but try to have some fun, too. I'll talk to you guys later after the crush is over."
"Fucking-A, man," Buck opined. Jess concurred.
After a few days, Jess grew to hate the hotel guests. When they weren't demanding hotter coffee, colder ice cream, more water, less butter, bigger salads, smaller rolls, or faster service, they would wander into the dining room at precisely 30 seconds before closing, linger forever over their lunch, and cause him to spend an extra hour waiting on a single table. And leave no tip. But he did manage slowly to accumulate some cash. One of his few consolations was to throw his crumpled ones and fives and twenties on his bed and recount his tips. After his third week, he'd accumulated $96.55.
His loathing for the guests took a different turn when he noticed a young woman one afternoon sitting at table with her mother. She had the classic co-ed look with shoulder-length blonde hair, aquiline features, straight white teeth and dark brown eyes. But there was also a somewhat mysterious pallor to her countenance. She seemed delicate and defenseless. She also flirted with Jess, and he struck up a conversation despite the hovering hawk look on her mother's face.
"I noticed on the guest tag that you're from Richmond," Jess said. "Me too."
"No kidding," she said. "Where do you live?"
"In the West End, not far from the country club. And you?"
"We live in the Fan District, " her mother interjected. "I'm Mrs. Poffenberger and this is my daughter, Johnelle."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Jess Witherspoon."
"Isn't your daddy a doctor?" she continued.
"Yes, ma'am. A surgeon."
"Why, of course. I know Dr. Witherspoon. And I knew your grandaddy, too. You're a tall handsome man like them."
Jess squirmed. "Thank you, ma'am. Is this your first trip to Orkney Springs?"
"Oh, no," the girl said. "We've been coming here every summer for years. Since I was a little girl, anyway."
"Great! Then you can tell me everything about this place sometime when I'm not too busy."
"That would be nice. We're staying up in 335 on the third floor. Just stop by sometime when you have a few minutes," she said.
"I'll definitely do that." Jess' heart pounded with excitement and filled him with enough adrenaline to overcome his shyness.
After his luncheon shift, he went to their room and rapped on the door. He was pleased when Johnelle opened it with a big smile.
"I was just wondering whether you might like to go for a walk around the lake?"
"Sure. Let me grab my sunglasses. See you in a while, Mom?" she called out.
The afternoon was hot and sultry, the air still and suffocating. As they walked, their hands were constantly in motion fending off mosquitoes.
"I wasn't going to come this year, but my mother talked me into it," she said.
"Really? How did she do that?"
"By telling me she was worried about leaving me alone because of my heart condition. She worries all the time."
"Oh. I guess it's none of my business, but what's wrong with your heart?"
"There's a small hole between the two chambers, which means it doesn't pump as efficiently as it should. I've already had three operations, and I'm supposed to have another one in the fall."
Jess felt a wave of compassion and tenderness, and realized why her eyes had a perpetual, weary pallor.
"I can understand your mother's worrying. My father had a heart attack in his 30s but now he's doing pretty well. Still, we all worry about him more than he knows."
Johnelle flung her slender arms straight into the air.
"But I'm only 19, and I want to live! I don't want to spend my life in a hospital!"
They paused under a shade tree to catch a transient cool breeze.
"Something tells me this will be your last surgery and that you'll live a long and healthy life," Jess said.
"Hey, there's a county fair this weekend in town. How would you like to go with me?"
"I'd love to, but I'll have to see if I can get some time off. I'm supposed to be here for every meal."
"I'll talk to Major Bemis," she said breezily. "He's an old friend of the family."
Jess walked on air until Saturday afternoon, when he was able to steal away after negotiating a shift swap with Buck. He and Johnelle boarded a hotel jitney packed with guests for the three-mile trip to the fair. Wearing a broad-brimmed, white floppy hat she looked for all the world like a fashion model. In the waning afternoon of a hot July day, the county fair was a dusty rustic gathering of cattle, horses and humans that sent up clouds of hay allergens, giving Jess a sneezing fit. His eyes turned red and he could not control his spasms.
"Wow, looks like you have a major allergy going on there," she said, opening her purse. "Why don't you take one of these antihistamines? They always help me when I have an attack."
Jess tossed the red capsule into his mouth and washed it down with several long drinks from the nearest water bottle.
"I'm sorry," he sputtered. "I didn't expect this."
"Don't be ridiculous. Why don't we get some ice cream? The cold will probably help stop your sneezing."
At a small booth, Jess bought them each a triple-scoop cone of vanilla ice cream made and sold by a local dairy farm family. The ice cream was rich and creamy, with flecks of butter scattered throughout. By the time he'd finished slurping his cone, Jess had stopped sneezing. For the rest of the afternoon, they wandered among the crafts and home arts exhibits, gazed at an immense Black Angus steer, and listened to Bluegrass. On the jitney ride back to the hotel, Jess daringly put his arm around her shoulders—and she did not slap him.
"Let's go and sit by the lake," he said. "It's cooler there and they just sprayed for mosquitoes so we may be safe."
Stars shimmered against the dark sky, seemingly within an arm's reach. Except for the occasional distant splash of a frog jumping into the lake, the night was still. Jess felt as if they were a tiny part of a long stream of humanity from the beginning of time that'd sat beside this lake and gazed into the heavens, amazed at the vastness and beauty of creation.
"Will you let me know how your operation turns out?" he said.
"Sure. I'll be in Charlottesville at the university hospital."
"Maybe I can come and see you."
She turned toward him and peered directly into his eyes, as if shocked at his naiveté. Then, slowly, Johnelle moved toward him and put her soft lips on his. A gentle touch quickly turned into a heated embrace, and soon their hands were all over each other. She stood and pulled him up by the hand, then led him toward the hotel.
"Where are we going?" he asked dumbly.
"To our room. Mother is out for the evening and won't be back until late."
The stairs creaked and the door squeaked, but they made it to room 335 without arousing suspicion. In the darkness, they found the bed and a thrill of pleasure in each other's company.
As Jess grew more exhausted with the working conditions, he also grew more infatuated with Johnelle. So they spent more evenings together, and his resistance to getting up for breakfast also increased exponentially. After she returned to Richmond, he was able to catch up on sleep, but became filled with a wistful sense of longing. There was no more excitement or even curiosity about the Orkney Springs Hotel. Now, instead of being some quaint historical relic hidden away from the world, to Jess it became a suffocating backwater or futility and suffering. He totaled up his earnings again in mid-July. Now the treasury stood at $198.13. He decided to make his move.
Jess called the Allegheny Taxicab Company and asked the fare to Richmond. Somewhat astounded, the voice at the other end arrived at the rough estimate of $75, "depending on the driver's exact route but it probably wouldn't be more than that."
"OK, please have a cab for me here at the hotel at 9 o'clock tomorrow morning," he said in as condescending a voice as he could summon. "Oh, and make sure the cab is air conditioned."
He packed his suitcase and hung his tan summer suit on the closet door, with a fresh shirt and necktie. Jess prepared to make his exit in style.
"I'm not going to work today," he announced when the alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. "I'm going back to Richmond. You'll just have to manage without me. I hope it won't be too much trouble to bring my foot locker back with you when you come."
"You're kidding me, right?" Buck grinned.
"No, sorry I didn't mention anything sooner but I just made up my mind yesterday. You can have my wages for half the summer if you want. I just want out of this place."
Buck ran his fingers through his floppy black forelocks, as he reached for a cigarette.
"Fucking-A."
"Yeah, fucking-A right."
He left Buck jabbering in a state of shock and strode to the front of the hotel to await the cab, which quickly came and swooshed him off in air-conditioned comfort. He loosened his necktie as he gave the driver instructions to stop in Harrisonburg while he went to a local restaurant for dinner. During most of the trip, he busied himself with "A Remembrance of Things Past," while puffing the occasional cigarette. For a break, he thumbed through The New Yorker and fancied himself one of the Eastern elite. This innocuous fantasy was energized considerably when he saw in its pages a high fashion model who looked exactly like Johnelle.
"Know any good restaurants in Harrisonburg?" Jess asked the driver as they approached.
"Sally's is probably the best one," he replied good-naturedly. "It's about the only one, really. Right there on Main Street."
"What sort of food do they serve?"
"Steaks, roast beef, seafood—you name it."
"Sounds good. Can you wait for me out front while I get something to eat?"
"Yes sir, but I'll have to charge you an hourly rate. It's $12 an hour."
"That will be no problem."
Jess was the first customer in the cool, somewhat darkened restaurant that faced the street through lace curtains. Its quiet reserve and dark wood furnishings gave it the elegant atmosphere he sought. Deliberately, he sought the most expensive item on the menu: a steak and lobster combination for $13.50. To accompany his dinner, he also ordered a half-bottle of champagne for $7. As he ate and sipped in his summer tan suit, he flipped nonchalantly through the pages of his magazine and imagined himself a wealthy aristocrat returning to Richmond from a vacation in the mountains. Then he ordered a piece of homemade apple pie with a scoop of ice cream, although he was already stuffed. He quaffed the desert down with hot coffee. And he tipped the waitress generously with a crisp $5 bill before returning to the waiting cab.
For the remainder of the journey, Jess dozed pleasantly and entertained fantasies of a reunion with his girlfriend. When they reached his Richmond home, Jess paid the driver $95, grabbed his bag and walked directly into the empty house and to his room, where he dropped into bed and slept until next morning.
When he awoke, he found a note from his father welcoming him home and asking for a call to his office. He exulted in a plate of Danish pastries on the sunny patio, then grabbed his bathing suit and walked to the country club and swam until the accumulated toxins had been dispelled from his system. As he sauntered slowly home, Jess longed for the girl, wanted to touch her flesh. There was plenty of summer left to dip into that sweet well again and again.
So he called a number in Charlottesville where Johnelle's mother was staying during her daughter's surgery.
"Mrs. Poffenberger? This is Jess Witherspoon. I'm just calling to see how Johnelle's doing, and when she might be coming home."
There was a strange pause during which he could hear her labored breathing.
"I'm very sorry to say Johnelle won't be coming home." Her voice was stiff and formal. "She died last night after surgery. I'm just on my way to make funeral arrangements. I'll keep you posted, Jess."
May I offer you a Round the World Cruise of a lifetime for the price of a novel?
Not only do the seas roll on but two romances,a death at sea, uncovered past lives, history uncovered in Brazil, caves in Australia, poetry in Senegal, the Lux Mundi
Part Three in the Mu Series - Sarah Thompson reluctantly abandons her desperate search for her soul mate on Maui and returns to her Montana hometown. Her brother has had a terrible accident...
