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Dedication to Love

By J. Carol Nemeth

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Chapter One

Asheville, North Carolina
Friday, August 30, 1940

“The president? Of the United States?” Jillian Spencer’s voice squeaked as her eyebrows rose in disbelief. “And you want me to cover it?” This wasn’t the usual bank heist or charity benefit she generally covered as a reporter for the Asheville Citizen.
The unlit cigar between Preston Wayne’s lips waggled as he nodded, causing his comb-over hair to fall forward onto his forehead. As editor-in-chief, he’d watched Jill grow as a reporter and knew she was up to the task. “That’s right, kiddo. Franklin Delano Roosevelt himself. You did such a good job on the governor’s charity benefit story, I think you can manage this one, no problem.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Wayne. I appreciate your confidence in me. I’ll certainly do my best.”
“I know you will. Now go see Bertie about your travel arrangements. You’ve only got a few days before the dedication. Every important person from North Carolina and Tennessee will be in attendance. The president doesn’t show up in our neck of the woods often.” He paused, his gaze screwing up toward the ceiling. “Ok, so maybe once. Or twice. I dunno. The important thing is he’s coming now. So go! Write a great story! And I want it on my desk as soon as the dedication is over.”
Gripping her notebook and pen in hand, Jillian stood from her seat in front of the editor’s desk. “You’ve got it, Chief. You can count on me!”
Spinning on her heel, she headed out the door hurrying toward Bert Maynard’s desk. She’d have to arrange for a car and a hotel room, if she could find one! With the president of the United States coming to dedicate the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, every hotel in the region would be booked. Fortunately for her, Bertie was a whiz when it came to travel arrangements. She’d see what miracle he could conjure up for her.
~
Mrs. Spencer dropped heavily onto the side of Jill’s bed. “The president?”
“That’s right, Mom, President Roosevelt!” Jill dropped her folded clothing into the overnight bag and turned to pick up a pair of shoes. “Can you believe it? Mr. Wayne wants me to cover the dedication and then try to get a quick word or two from the president himself. That may be a little harder to do. I’m sure he’ll have quite an entourage with him.”
“Well, I’m very proud of you, dear.” Mother Spencer propped her elbow on her other arm, tapping her chin with her finger. “I wonder if Joe will be there.”
“Joe?” Jill paused in her packing. She hadn’t thought of whether her older brother Joe, big-city reporter for a Raleigh, NC newspaper, would be there or not. Her heart sank. She’d worked hard to get to this point in her career and had always felt she just didn’t live up to Joe’s expectations. But being a woman reporter in 1940 was a challenge. Mr. Wayne hadn’t been easy on her, expecting her to pull her weight right along with her male colleagues. Joe was no different.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Mother stood and brushed a wayward tendril of dark hair from Jill’s brow. “You know your brother only wants you to be the best reporter possible. That’s the only reason he’s so tough on you.”
Jill sighed. “Yeah, well I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think he wants all the glory for himself.” Or wants to eliminate the competition.
~
“Sorry, Marion,” Jill said into the mouthpiece of the candlestick phone. “I have to cancel our movie outing tomorrow afternoon. As much as I’d love to swoon over Clark Gable in Boom Town right along with you, I have to leave for Bryson City tomorrow morning.” She quickly explained her assignment from the newspaper.
“I understand,” her friend replied. “I’ll call my cousin May and see if she wants to go. I don’t want to miss that movie. Clark Gable’s so dreamy!”
Jill smiled, chuckling. “Have fun. And tell May hello for me.”
As she hung up the receiver, the front door opened admitting her brother Joe.
“What are you doing here?” Jill asked warily.
“Well, that’s a fine ‘how do you do’ for your favorite brother.” He grabbed her in a bear hug swinging her around.
“You’re my only brother,” she reminded as he set her back on her feet.
“But still your favorite.” He winked hanging his coat and hat on the hall tree.
“Joseph Spencer!” Hands on her hips, Mother stood in the door leading to the kitchen. “What are you doing on this end of the state?”
“Wow! I’m glad everyone’s so happy to see me.” He gave her a hearty hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s not that,” Jill replied. “It’s just that you rarely come home. You’re always off globetrotting for some big story.”
“Did that big-city newspaper fire you?” Mother’s hand flew to her heart.
“Settle down, ladies. I still work for the News and Observer. I have an assignment in the area and thought I’d drop in for a visit on my way there.”
Jill’s stomach clenched as a thought began to form. Surely not! Was he going to report on the dedication too? Oh, please, no!
“Well, you can tell us all about it over supper.” Mother turned, retreating toward the kitchen. “It’s almost ready,” she called over her shoulder.
~
“So where are you going, dear?” Mother re-folded her cloth napkin and dropped it beside her plate. “You said you were headed somewhere in the area?”
“Yep, that’s right.” Joe wiped his mouth and twisted his own napkin between his fingers. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on the table. “I’m headed to the dedication ceremony in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. President Roosevelt is the honored speaker.”
Jill’s eyes closed as she heaved a sigh. They popped open again at her mother’s next words.
“That’s wonderful, Joe. Now there’ll be two family reporters there.”
Joe’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Jill’s editor is sending her up for the ceremony too.”
Joe’s dark brown eyes, so like her own, swept toward Jill. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, it’s no joke. No kidding involved.” Jill’s temper began to rise in defense. This is how it always was. “Mr. Wayne wants the story covering the ceremony, and he’s sending me to get it. And before you say another word, Mr. Ace Reporter, I may not have your experience, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a good reporter.”
“Never said you weren’t a good reporter, Jill,” he said in low tones. “But are you a great reporter?
~
Mr. Wayne had arranged for a driver to escort Jill to Bryson City. He’d be arriving early in the morning so she had already gone upstairs to prepare for bed. As she rechecked her bag and made sure her camera case was loaded with enough film and flashbulbs, she heard the telephone ringing downstairs. Minutes later, Mother knocked on her door.
“It’s Mr. Wayne for you, dear.”
Slipping on her robe, Jill hurried downstairs and picked up the receiver. “Yes, Mr. Wayne. What can I do for you?”
“Miss Spencer, we’ve received news that a flash flood has swept through the Cherokee and Bryson City areas. The Tuckaseegee River has crested its banks and is flowing into the streets in both towns. Sources say that although most of the streets are covered in water, they’re mostly drivable. Plenty of damage has occurred around the area, but hopefully you’ll be able to get around. I want you to grab whatever information you can on this and get me a story, ASAP. Call it in as soon as you have something. The only lodging Bertie could find is at the Deep Creek Inn near the Civilian Conservation Corps. camp on Deep Creek. It’s inside the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Ted Buckley’s driving you and will be staying at the Inn too. He’ll be available to take you anywhere you need to go. Any questions?”
Where did she begin? At least a dozen questions surfaced, but she held them back. She needed to deal with the situation on her own as best she could. If she had a problem she couldn’t solve, then she’d call Mr. Wayne. Not before. “No, sir. At least not for now.”
“Good. Ted will pick you up at 5 am. Now, go make me proud.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.” As she hung up the receiver, her stomach knotted. Excitement for the adventure ahead? Or apprehension for the adventure ahead? Maybe both?
~
As Ted Buckley drove into Bryson City and turned onto Main Street, Jill gasped. Water covered the sidewalks and had risen to the doorsteps of most of the businesses along the street. It must be at least a foot deep in places. She was thankful she’d brought her galoshes along. It seemed to be flowing and not raging through town. Folks were out and about both in vehicles and on foot.
“Ted, stop over by the courthouse. I want to get some pictures then we’ll turn up that street and get pictures of the overflow at the bridge.”
Grabbing her Kodak Pocket folding camera, Jill climbed out of the roadster and snapped several photographs, stopping once to change her film. Debris floated past and accumulated along the sides of the streets. She snapped pictures of the local folk trying to clean up what they could and spoke to a few, writing down their personal tragedies with the flood.
Continuing their journey through town, they turned down Everett Street and stopped at the bridge crossing the Tuckaseegee River to snap some photos. Here the water current was stronger, but Ted guided the car across the bridge without incident and continued toward the train depot. The tracks were covered with water and debris so no trains would be running for a while. As they followed the country road out of town and toward Deep Creek Inn, the road appeared to rise and descend out of and into the water. Homes were surrounded by floodwater and fields had become lakes. A creek ran parallel to the road, and Ted informed Jill that it was Deep Creek. It flowed into the Tuckaseegee River and was overflowing its banks as well.
Ted parked the roadster in front of the Deep Creek Inn that stood near the entrance to the Deep Creek CCC Camp. The Inn’s rustic, mellowed log structure welcomed them while the huge front porch with swings and rockers beckoned visitors to “sit for a spell.” Jill climbed out of the roadster, gazing around. Fortunately, the Inn sat on an incline higher than the water that overflowed the creek. Looking toward the entrance to the Deep Creek Camp, she noticed the creek had risen to the level of the bridge and was splashing over its sides. It wasn’t far to walk, so giving Ted instructions to check them in and take in their bags, she decided to walk over and explore before the bridge became impassable. From the look of things, she decided it might be safer to leave her camera with Ted and perhaps take pictures later.
Again appreciative of her galoshes, she walked into the water standing on the road, slogged through and passed a welcome sign. A smaller one indicated a ranger station across the creek. She’d cross over and see if anyone was at the station who might share information for her story. Grabbing hold of the wooden railing of the bridge, she started across, but soon noticed the splashing was steadily becoming a current that sluiced across the surface of the wooden bridge. Jill was halfway across when a surge of cold creek water rose in a rushing tide and swept over the sides of the bridge. Holding onto the railing with all her strength, she tried to edge forward, but without warning the wood in her hands began to give way. She teetered for a moment grasping the rail with all her might. A piece ripped away, jerking her off her feet. Grabbing for a piece of the rail that was still attached, she wasn’t sure how long it would hold, especially with the current pulling against her.
“Help!” she called out. Water surged over her head cutting off her screams. She fought to pull herself to the surface, but was dragged back under by the current tugging on her clothes. Please, Lord! Save me somehow! Please help me! Her galoshes had filled with water and weighed her down. Struggling to hold onto the wooden rail, she broke the surface, screaming as she emerged. Would she be able to stay up long enough to call for help or would the rail break loose, careening her downstream in the torrential current?
Fear filled her as the rail loosened driving her to reach out in every direction, grasping for anything else to hold onto. The rail was giving way! She screamed again just before she was tugged back under.
Without warning, the rail gave way! The current tugged at her attempting to send her downstream. This was it! She was going to die!
The back of her dress snagged on something halting her movement downstream. She fought to pull her head above the surface. Something yanked her back against the current holding her fast and steady.
“Grab hold of this,” a strong male voice yelled over the sound of the rushing water. “Don’t let go! Fight! Come on, help me pull you out!”
Jill lifted her eyes from the raging water around her to see a man grasping a rope, his hand holding her from being swept away. The rope was tied to a tree on the opposite side of the bridge along the riverbank.
Thank you, Lord! Someone had either seen or heard her and had come to help.
Jill grabbed onto the end of the rope helping the man pull her free of the raging current. Hand over hand she fought until she felt the surface of the bridge beneath her feet.
Grasping the rope, she struggled to the end of the bridge as strong arms held her tightly. The stranger followed close behind to prevent her from once again being swept away.
An old green pickup truck stood near the tree where the end of the rope was tied, and she made her way toward it collapsing against the front bumper.
“Don’t stop there,” the stranger urged. “Let’s get you to safety.” Exhausted, Jill wasn’t sure her legs would carry her any further.
Sensing her fatigue, the stranger reached down and lifted her into his arms then carried her to the rear of the truck and set her on the tailgate. Reaching behind the driver’s seat, he pulled out a wool blanket and wrapped it around her.
Jill’s teeth chattered and the muscles in her body shook, both from the extreme cold of the mountain creek and the exertion from trying to stay alive. Lifting her eyes to the stranger, she met his slate gaze filled with concern. Then another emotion filled their depths. Anger.
“What were you doing out there? Why were you crossing that bridge on foot? Didn’t you see how swift the current was?”
Jill’s lips compressed as she sat a little straighter. “I-I di-didn’t mean to ge-get caught out there,” she stammered shivering inside the blanket. “Th-the water wasn’t o-o-over the bridge wh-when I started across. I-I held onto th-the railings a-and thought it would b-be safe.”
“Not by a long shot,” he replied. Shaking his head, relief replaced his anger. “Thank God you’re safe.”
“What happened, Cam?” Another man appeared beside the stranger who she just now realized was wearing a National Park Service uniform. Sopping wet, but nonetheless a uniform. “What’s going…?”His voice faded away.
Jill recognized the voice and looked up to see her brother standing beside the stranger. “J-Joe?” Her voice squeaked in astonishment. “Wh-what are you do-doing here?”
“Jill? Well, I could ask you the same thing! What are you doing here?”
Before she could answer, the uniformed man interrupted. “You know her?”
“She’s my kid sister,” Joe replied, swiping a hand down his face as though that would remove the worried expression that rested there.
“We need to get her inside where it’s dry and then out of those wet clothes. It may be the end of August, but she was in that cold mountain water far too long.”
“I-I’m staying over at De-Deep Creek Inn,” she said. “Can’t I-I just go there? I ha-have dry clothes.”
“Can the truck make it back across the creek?” Joe asked the uniformed man.
“I’ll get it across,” he replied. Lifting Jill into his arms and carrying her to the front of the truck, he placed her in the front passenger seat. Joe jumped into the bed of the truck and hung on as the stranger put it into gear and eased out into the current. Jill closed her eyes, her recent experience too fresh to watch as they crossed. The surge hammered the side of the vehicle. She gasped as it slipped a few times in the crossing.
After careful maneuvering, the truck pulled up onto the road bed, still submerged in water, but they moved forward without a struggle.
~
When Jill had changed clothes and was settled on the couch in front of a roaring fire in the living room, Wilma Watkins, one of the innkeepers provided a hot cup of coffee. Jill snuggled it between her cold hands. The teeth chattering had stopped and warmth was seeping back into her body as she reclined beneath a warm afghan. Joe and the stranger, who had borrowed dry clothes from Wilma’s husband, Bert, took seats across from the couch. Wilma continued to fuss over Jill until Bert pulled her away toward the kitchen.
“Let her be, Wilma. That roaring fire’ll warm her up in no time. They need some good warm food to eat now. Come on. Let’s finish fixin’ supper for ‘em.”
Wilma nodded as she patted Jill on the arm. “You just rest there, sweetie. Supper’ll be ready before ya know it.”
“Thank you,” Jill nodded. “I look forward to it.”
“Ok spill it, Jill,” Joe said as the innkeepers left the room. “What are you doing out here?”
Glancing between the men, she asked, “Joe, is this gentleman a friend of yours? He saved my life, and I think it’s time you introduced him so I know who to thank.”
Joe exhaled a heavy sigh. “This is Cameron Murphy. We’re old college buddies. I knew Cam was working up here in the park, and when the News and Observer sent me to cover the dedication ceremony, I called and asked if I could bunk with him. Didn’t think I’d get a room in the whole region considering everyone who’ll be arriving for the ceremony. Cam, this is my kid sister, Jillian.”
Cameron nodded, a lopsided grin displaying a dimple in one cheek. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jillian, but I’d rather it hadn’t been under these circumstances.”
“Agreed,” replied Jill. “It’s nice to meet you though. And thank you for saving my life. Somehow that seems so inadequate.”
“My pleasure.” He recalled the scream that had brought him rushing out of the ranger station and the terror that had filled him as he worked frantically to rescue her. “I wasn’t sure I’d be in time.” His slate eyes held hers. “I prayed God would hold you there until I could get to you.”
Pink tinged her otherwise pale cheeks. “So did I.”
Joe turned to Jill. “I knew you were coming up for the ceremony, but you didn’t say you were coming out here.”
“When Mr. Wayne, my editor, heard about the flooding, he wanted me to come into town and do a story.” She explained this was the only place that Bertie could find for her and Ted to stay. As she was finishing, Ted walked into the living room, concern marking his face.
“Miss Spencer, I just heard from the Inn’s manager. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Ted,” she smiled at the older man. They’d worked together on many a story, and he’d become more like a father figure to her. “I had no idea the water was rising so swiftly, but this gentleman,” she indicated Cameron, “rescued me.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ted said to Cameron. “This little lady was entrusted into my care, and I feel terrible that she almost, well, she almost….”
“It’s ok, Ted. I’m fine. The Lord was looking after me.”
“Yes, He was,” Ted agreed. He swiped at the mistiness in his eyes. “Can I get you anything? Supper’s about to be served and I can bring you a plate in here if you like.”
“I appreciate it, but I’ll come into the dining room in a few minutes. I’ll say goodbye to my brother and Mr. Murphy first.”
“Sure thing. You gentlemen have a good evening.” He nodded to the men then turned and headed toward the dining room.
Jill started to rise but sat back down suddenly, her legs unsteady. Cameron moved first, reaching out a hand to steady her as she tried to stand again. “Take your time. I’m sure your legs are weak from fighting to get back onto the bridge and moving through the rushing water.”
“Yes, they are indeed. Thank you.” The words came out in almost a whisper. Lifting her gaze, she found him searching her face. “I’ll be alright. Really.”
Joe walked over and gave her a bear hug. “We’ll be going now, pumpkin. You need to get some food into you and then some rest. The next few days will be hectic.”
“Where are you staying?” she asked.
“I have an apartment in town,” Cameron replied. “Joe will be staying with me for a few days.”
“You don’t live at the camp?”
“No. The camp is only used by the Civilian Conservation Corp. while they’re working in the park. There are a couple of bunk houses and a cookhouse up on the hill. It’s a good thing they were built up there. So much water has overflowed Deep Creek’s banks that the lower area is a soggy mess.”
“I see,” Jill nodded.
Heading toward the door, Joe repeated his directive. “Get some rest. And stay out of trouble.”
Jill raised her hand in a military salute. “Yes, sir!”
Joe rolled his eyes in annoyance as he left, but a smile tilted the corners of Cameron’s lips and lit up his eyes. Hand on the doorknob, he stopped and winked, then went out to join Joe.

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