The Road to Grace (The Walk) (18 page)

Over the next four days I covered the distance between Sioux Falls and Sioux City with little worth writing about in between. From Sioux City, my next major destination was St. Joseph, approximately 225 miles away. At my current pace I would make it in ten days.

The freeway leaving Sioux City was too busy and too narrow to safely traverse, so I walked along the Floyd River, which was beautiful with its sandy shore.

State lines converged on my route out of the city, and for much of the day I wasn’t sure whether I was in Iowa or Nebraska. I could have solved my quandary by consulting my map, but it didn’t really matter. I knew I was on the right road, and at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered.

Over the next seven days I followed I-29 due south. The road, for the most part, was in Iowa though at times it crossed state lines into Nebraska, as it did in Omaha.

This part of the country seemed old and good to me, reflected, perhaps, in the area’s claims to fame. Western Iowa gave us Donna Reed (Jimmy Stewart’s low-maintenance wife in
It’s a Wonderful Life
), the great orchestra leader Glenn Miller, and the performer Andy Williams of “Moon River” fame—a song I only knew because we performed it on our recorders in Miss Rossi’s class in the second grade.

The region didn’t just contribute actors and musicians to the American cultural pot. One of the towns I passed was Onawa, the place where Eskimo Pies were invented by a Danish immigrant named Christian Kent Nelson—a schoolteacher
and
candy store owner. (
A delightfully congruent combination
, I thought.) Nelson came up with the idea for the Eskimo Pie in 1920 when a child in his store couldn’t decide between an ice cream or a chocolate bar. He ended up patenting the bar and made an agreement
with Russell C. Stover, the candy magnate, to produce the frozen treats under the name Eskimo Pie. At the height of their popularity, more than one million Eskimo Pies were sold in America each day. The American dream is made of such stuff.

As I walked, I felt as if I were discovering a side of America that was lost to the media, or at least ignored, written off as inconsequential. As I would discover over the next few weeks, these small towns are tinder boxes for some of the world’s greatest people and ideas. Residents from metropolises tend to look down on those from smaller populations—even in their big-city failures. I had an employee from Brooklyn who told me that when his driver’s education teacher informed his class that because of all the car robberies their borough had the highest car insurance premiums in the country, some of the students clapped and high-fived each other. Stupid as this mentality is, I don’t think it’s ever been different. People tend to grab onto whatever they can to make themselves feel superior—whether it’s a brand, a football team, or even a locale.

These were not bad days of walking. I passed large, well-organized fields and lilac-strewn countryside, always pleasant to look at, at best, idyllic.

Fifty miles past Omaha, I walked through Sidney, Iowa, the self-proclaimed “Rodeo Town, USA.” Sidney is a pert little town with a barbershop, a café, and two law offices—which seemed excessive to me until I remembered a story my father once told me about a town that had only one lawyer, who just about starved until a second lawyer moved into the town and then they both became rich.

In the center of Sidney I stopped at a small grocery store to stock up on food and water. I was the only customer in the store, and the market’s lone employee, an attractive, thirty-something woman at the checkout counter, was reading a magazine off the rack when I approached her with my purchases. She set her magazine down and smiled at me. She had short blond hair that framed a pretty, delicate face with striking features, almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and a slightly upturned nose. In contrast to her blond hair, she had brown eyes and dark eyebrows.

“I like your hat,” she said as she rang up my items.

“It makes my hair look shorter,” I replied.

She smiled. “No. It doesn’t.”

I smiled back. “Well, at least it keeps the sun off my face while I’m walking.”

“Where are you walking to?”

I picked up a package of gum and a tube of lip balm from a display next to the counter and added it to my purchases. “Key West, Florida.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Wow. You’re a long way from Florida. Actually, from here, you’re a long way from anywhere. Where did you start walking?”

“Seattle.”

“Seattle.” She thought about it. “Then you’re about halfway there, aren’t you?”

“Pretty close.”

“I bet you’re halfway,” she said. “What’s in Key West?”

I shrugged. “Sand, I guess.”

“Sand?”

“I guess. That’s why I’m walking. To find out what’s there.”

She smiled. “I like your answer.”

“So are there any hotels or bed-and-breakfasts in town?”

“Sorry. Not around here. The nearest one would be in Nebraska City, but you’re going the other direction, aren’t you? Probably St. Joseph. That’s about a hundred miles from here.”

“Thank you. I’ll just find a place to camp. Is there a park around here?”

She cocked her head a little. “A park? No. But you can stay at our place. My home is nice.”

“You’ve got a yard I can camp in?”

“We do, but I didn’t mean you had to camp. We have a guest room.”

I was surprised by her offer. That would never have happened in Seattle. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s no trouble. Frankly, we’d love the company. It would be the most exciting thing that’s happened around here all year. Besides, I’m making spaghetti tonight with Chairman of the Board clam sauce.”

“Chairman of the Board?”

“It’s one of Emeril’s recipes. I’m kind of a fan. Actually I’m a big fan. I love to cook.”

“I’d be a fool to pass that up.” I looked at her ring finger. She wore a large diamond and emerald ring, set on a yellow gold band. “Are you sure it will be okay with your husband?”

“Matt will be fine. He’s really easygoing. He likes people.”

“All right. You talked me into it.”

She looked happy. “Great. I get off work at six.” She looked at her watch. “That’s in about forty minutes. If you don’t mind hanging around, I’ll drive you home with me.”

“Thanks. I’ll just wait outside.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “Unless you want to. It’s not like anyone’s beating down the doors.” She put out her hand. “I’m Analise.”

“Alan,” I said.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alan.”

“Are you from Sidney?”

“No. My husband is. His father owns a couple thousand acres just east of here. He grows corn.”

“There’s a lot of that going on around here.”

“Yes, there is a lot of corn going on around here.”

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“I was born about ten miles from here in Tabor. You probably walked through it.”

“I did. It was … quaint.”

“Quaint,” she said, smiling. “That’s a tactful description.”

“Do you have any children?”

“Two. Christian and Casey. Christian’s seven and Casey’s five.”

Just then a woman walked into the store. She was broad and red-faced, dressed in a blue velvet tracksuit. She was huffing as she walked. “Hello, Analise.”

“Hi, Terry.”

“Just need to pick up some cocoa powder,” she said, passing by the counter. She shouted back, “I forgot I was supposed to make brownies for Aiden’s den meeting tomorrow afternoon.”

“It’s in aisle three.”

“Got it. Is Christian coming to the den meeting?”

“He’ll be there,” Analise said. She turned back to me. “Where were we?”

“In Sidney,” I said. “Do you know everyone in town?”

She smiled wryly. “I know everyone’s
business
in town. You don’t have secrets in a town this small.” She leaned
forward and whispered, “I could tell you things about Terry that would curl your toes.”

I looked down the aisle at the woman. “Please don’t,” I said.

She laughed. “Okay.”

A minute later Terry walked up to the counter. She had a box of brownie mix and some canned frosting. She also had a bag of coconut toasted marshmallows.

“So you decided to take the easy way out,” Analise said, checking the prices on the items.

“Oh, why go to the bother? I still have to get dinner on. Have any ideas what I could make Ben tonight?”

“Hamburger Helper usually does the trick.”

“Yeah, well the doctor told him he needs to cut back on red meat. He’s too fat. So what’s your secret, doll? You always look like a million bucks in the bank.” The woman turned to me. “You tell me, is this woman gorgeous or is she gorgeous.”

I nodded. “She is gorgeous.”

Analise rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re embarrassing me.”

The woman was still looking at me. She stuck out her hand. “Terry Mason, just like the old TV show.”

“You mean, Perry Mason?”

“Exactly. How do you do?”

I took her hand, wondering what could be so scandalous about this woman as to curl my toes. “Alan Christoffersen.”

“You visiting or just passing through?”

“Just passing through,” I said.

“Maybe you should stay awhile. The rest of America may be going to heck in a handbasket, but Sidney is a rock in the storm. A jewel in America’s crown.”

“Mr. Christoffersen is walking across the country,” Analise said.

“Oh, Lord. Maybe I should send Ben with you. He’d have to walk from sea to shining sea to get back to his fighting weight.” She turned back to Analise. “What are you cooking tonight, darling?”

“Spaghetti with clam sauce.”

“Well ain’t you fancy, cooking all ee-tal-yun.”

“It’s one of Emeril’s recipes.”

“Well you know I love Emeril on occasion, but give me Paula Deen any day. That woman ain’t afraid of butter.”

Analise laughed. “No, she’s not. That will be six forty-nine.”

“Here you go,” she said, handing her a bill.

“Out of ten. That’s three and fifty-one back.”

“Keep the penny in that little dish, honey.”

“Okay.”

“Casey’s diarrhea under control?” Terry asked.

Analise blushed. “Yes. Has been for some days.”

“Did you try carrot soup? Carrot soup and brown rice works wonders with the squirts. But so does turmeric.”

“She’s fine. I just got some Imodium.”

“That works too. Tell Christian not to forget to bring his kerchief to the pack meeting, we’re making kerchief rings. Have a good night.” She turned back to me. “You too, Mr. Christensen. I wish you well on your walk.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling a little.

She walked out. Analise sighed. “Like I was saying, Mr. Christensen. There are no secrets in Sidney.”

“Clearly.”