There is a Way
by
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That summer, just when Tilly was beginning to believe that he was going to make it, a rich Texan built a so called “Super Market” two short blocks from his small neighborhood grocery store on Railroad Street. Soon after the grand opening of Texas Pete’s, Clarence began to feel the pinch. His customers were using all of their cash to buy from Pete’s and charging everything else they needed at Tilly’s. None of this had registered with Vince who had other things on his mind. But, that too was about to change. One means of income for kids of Vince’s statue was to scour the city's alleys, gutters, roadsides and railroad tracks for discarded pop bottles. Vince would take his red flyer wagon and stay on the job until he’d collected a wagon full which amounted to twenty five bottles. Grocers such as Tilly's would redeem the bottles for two cents each which in turn would be traded for credit to the soft drink bottlers. Five cents for Sunday School and forty five for a movie, Pepsi and popcorn. If Vince had only known what Tilly was planning to do to the next boy wanting to redeem a wagon load of profitless bottles, he would have taken his elsewhere. Tilly was having an especially bad day. A blown fuse overnight had left him with a meat case full of questionable meat. The chicken and egg man called and told him that he was running a day late and wouldn’t see him until tomorrow. This forced Tilly to buy from competitors to cover his orders. Another non profit deal. Vince should have taken a clue from Clarence Tilly’s mood. When Vince announced to him that he had twenty five bottles to redeem. Tilly snapped at him. “I’ll meet you out back after I close the store.” Closing time was several minutes away. An uneasiness came over Vince as he waited near the smelly shed where he was actually smelling a rat; a dead one. Several times during his seemingly endless wait he was tempted to leave. But, Vince had been taught not to run every time he smelled trouble. Vince’s father had taught him precious little else, but he had instilled in him a fighters tenacity. He smelled trouble. But, he waited. And waited. All this while, Clarence Tilly was secretly hoping that Vince would not be waiting out back for him. Clarence knew full well that the meanness welling up in him was evil. But, the thought of the boy waiting with his profitless pop bottles simply pushed him over the edge. His resolve to carry out his evil plan ebbed and flowed. It was amazing. This whole rotten, complicated scheme had appeared to him in its entirety down to the last detail in an instant. He knew exactly what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. It was if it had already happened and he was now looking back to the future. “Why should I do this to that poor boy? But, somebody's been stealing my bottles at night. He could be the one. Yes, yes, he probably is the thief. If he isn’t, he knows who’s doing it. It’s the same thing. I can’t sit around and wait for God or the devil to settle all my problems. This is something I have to do.” A wave of nausea flooded over Clarence as he locked the side door. He held onto the jamb to keep from falling. But, a new, stronger resolve took charge of his senses as he looked over the neighborhood where his customers and purse strings lay. He walked forcibly toward the waiting boy. Vince was pointing to the body of the wagon, wordlessly indicating, “there they are.” Matching Vince’s taciturn mode, Tilly began by silently appraising the boy’s merchandise. The late afternoon sun drew huge drops of sweat onto Tilly’s bald spot as he bent over the wagon. Vince felt empathy for the figure bending before him. During his few months on the street Vince had not missed the physical changes in Clarence. The lost weight was evident from the slack in his britches. There was a pallor of illness about his countenance, too. The worrisome wait was forgotten as Vince noticed that he could have stuck several fingers into the empty space at the heel of Tilly's shoes. His anxiety over, Vince had decided to be especially nice to the man. But, even before Vince was able to translate these thoughts into kindness, Tilly snapped, “Why did you steal my bottles?” Half lost in thought, Vince did not respond until the question was repeated. By then he was too stunned to reply. “See right here,” Clarence roared, “these bottles have my mark on them, these bottles came from right here in my shed.” Tilly was holding an RC bottle and pointing to an invisible mark of some sort. “You can’t be serious Mister Tilly.” Vince managed to murmur. “I’ve never been more serious in my life. You little punk, I knew somebody was stealing my bottles and now, see, I’ve caught you.” Clarence’s voice was now filled with venom and hate. “See, see, see”, he kept repeating as if repetition would somehow prove his point and convince the boy of his guilt. Tilly bent down and selected another sample bottle. This time his head was red, the blood having rushed into the vacuum left by his loss of senses. Vince was holding the RC bottle that Tilly had passed to him to examine. But, Vince wasn’t in the mood for Tilly's nonsense and found a more practical use for the robust bottle. He used it to crack Clarence Tilly across the center of his rosy bald spot with considerable force and then ran to beat hell.
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About the Book
Roger King and Russell Queen died under mysterious circumstances during a bitter labor dispute between the labor union and the railroad company’s scab workers. The King and Queen families each believed that their loved one had been murdered by the other. For that reason, the surviving Kings and Queens vowed to maintain the strike’s de facto feud in their Railroad Street neighborhood. Both Ben Knight and wife Clara lost their health while Vince, the youngest of their ten children was still in diapers. As a consequence the frail sickly child was being raised by siblings. Vince’s preteen years were spent in an isolated area of Eastern North Carolina. There, according to Ben, his youngest son had been spoiled, pampered and doted upon almost to the point of ruination. Increasing medical bills and the prospect of better paying jobs caused the family of Knights to move to a tough inner city neighborhood during the winter of 1940. Ben Knight believed that Railroad Street’s toughness was exactly what his youngest son needed to shape him into a a real man. Ben rightly predicted that book worms and sissy pants would be hard to find in a tough neighborhood like Railroad Street. That prediction turned out to be correct. To Ben Knight’s horror, however, mothers from both sides of the “Royal Feud” fell in love with his son because he possessed those exact didactic characteristics. Historians claim that during World War II, America became more united than at any other time; before or since. It turned out that a mere mortal held a secret that could turn Railroad Street into an analogous part of America’s most memorable era. However, only divine intervention was going to convince Ben Knight that his son had become the tenth star in his heavenly crown.
About the Author
About The Author William Davenport spent his preteen years in a thinly populated rural area of North Carolina during The Great Depression. Because of failing health, both of Davenport’s parents became dependents rather than providers while the author was still in diapers. Thus, the onus of supporting Davenport’s large family of ten children fell upon his older siblings. The author, a frail, sickly child was accordingly sheltered, pampered and doted upon by neighbors, teachers and loving siblings. Those pseudo idyllic years and rustic setting provided the location and characters for Davenport’s first two novels. In 1940, the increasing need for medical services and jobs forced the Davenport family to relocate in a tough inner city neighborhood. The thirteen years old author was ill prepared to face the life style awaiting him there. The adventures and misadventures he enjoyed and endured on Railroad Street at the outset of World War II provide the real life setting and characters for “There is a Way.” After working for the Atlantic Coast Railroad and serving in the Air Force during the Korean War, the author used the G. I. Bill to pay for his college education. He graduated from East Carolina University in 1963. That same year, Davenport began a career as an aeronautical engineer at Goddard Space Flight Center in Maryland. He retired from NASA in 1995. While writing as a hobby, several of Davenport’s articles were published in major magazines; including Reader’s Digest and Guideposts. After retirement, when the author was sure that his family wouldn’t starve, he began to write novels. “Dragon’s Die at Dawn” published in 2000 was followed by “Porter’s Quest” in 2006. As in previous novels, the setting and characters for “There is a Way” are real. The rest is fiction.