Mr. Zink must have forgotten that the machine and the records were in the
attic. It didn’t seem right to keep the discovery of the trunk from him. As soon as
she had a bit of free time, she’d stop by the assisted-living home and ask him what
he wanted her to do with all of it.
The portable phonograph, and especially Eleanor’s record, was a perfect
excuse to visit with the older gentleman again and update him on her big move.
He’d always been one of her favorite people, full of fun stories and interesting
historical tidbits about Dennison and the train depot. She would take any reason
she could get to stop in and visit.
It was Sunday afternoon before Debbie found the time to stop in and visit
Raymond Zink. He had moved into the Good Shepherd Assisted Living Home a
couple of months earlier, after deciding to sell his beloved home to Debbie.
She passed through the front doors and into the cozy foyer. The sitting room
was full of residents and their families, and Debbie smiled at several people she
knew. Though she hadn’t lived in Dennison for almost twenty years, and both her
parents were now gone, she had come to visit often and stayed in touch with many
of her childhood friends and their family members. It was comforting to return
to her old church, see her former schoolteachers downtown, into a neighbor
at the grocery store, and generally feel at home again. Cleveland had never felt
so tight-knit or full of a sense of community. At least, not in the same way as
her hometown.
Debbie stopped at the front desk where a volunteer was sitting with a smile
on his face.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “I’m Stan. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Stan.” Debbie returned his smile. “I’m looking for Raymond Zink.”
“Ray?” Stan’s grin widened. “He’s holding court in the dining room this
afternoon.”
“‘Holding court’?”
Stan shook his head as he chuckled. “You’ll see. Dining room is down that hall
and to the left.” He pointed in the direction she should go.
“Thank you.” She walked down the hall, following the smell of pot roast and
baked bread.
Even before she entered the dining room, she could hear Mr. Zink’s voice. It
was loud and clear, and he was telling a story about Old Bing, the service dog that
had gone to war with the Gray brothers of Dennison in June of 1918.
Debbie stopped just inside the doorway and listened as Mr. Zink continued
his story. Sitting around him was a mix of people, some who looked like they
were residents, others who appeared to be visiting family members. Mr. Zink held
everyone’s attention, from the youngest boy to the oldest gentleman.
“Bing was only nine days old when he was smuggled into the trenches by the
Gray brothers,” Mr. Zink said. “He served in active duty, with fifty-eight days in
the trenches, and received two citations for bravery.” Mr. Zink sat in a wheelchair
and his body showed his advanced age, but his eyes lit up and his voice was strong
as he spoke. “Old Bing survived being gassed twice and came back to Dennison
with yellow teeth and patches of missing fur from the side effects. But for his
service, he received the regular sixty-eight-dollar bonus for discharged soldiers.”
Debbie had heard the story of Old Bing before, but she never tired of it. When
Mr. Zink saw her standing there, his face lit up in a smile and he excused himself
from his audience and wheeled his chair over to join her.
“Hello, Debbie. It’s so nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Mr. Zink.” Debbie had known him from her church growing up. When
she had decided to come back to Dennison to open the Whistle Stop Café, he had
heard she was looking for a home and offered his. It was almost miraculous how
everything had fallen into place. “I’m happy to see that you found a new audience
to share your passion for history.”
“I won’t stop until the good Lord takes me home.” He motioned to a chair.
“Have a seat. I hope everything is okay at the house.”
“It’s perfect. I love it.” She set her bag down and pulled out the old record
inside its sheath. “I came by to let you know that there was a trunk left in the attic,
and I thought you might want it returned to you.”
“A trunk?” Mr. Zink squinted. “What was in it?”
“An antique-looking military record player, still in working order, and this.”
She handed him the record.
Mr. Zink looked at it for a moment and then slowly slipped the record out of
the sheath. His mouth began to quiver and his gaze seemed to slip back in time.
“My Eleanor.” Finally, he looked at Debbie. “Where did you say you found this?”
“In an old trunk in the attic.” She watched him closely. “I thought perhaps you
had forgotten it.”
“I hadn’t forgotten—how could I forget her?” He held the record to his chest.
“I thought I had lost this. I can’t believe you found it.”
“May I ask who Eleanor is?” Debbie asked. “She had a beautiful singing voice.”
“It was only a small part of her beauty.” Tears filled Mr. Zink’s eyes as he
spoke. “I’ve never known a woman like Eleanor, before or since.”
“Was she your sweetheart?”
“She was more than that—she was my very heart and soul.” He looked at the
record again and tenderly ran his hand over the label. “What happened to her?”
Debbie spoke quietly.
He finally looked at her again and shook his head. “I don’t know.” Debbie
frowned. “You don’t know?”
“When I left Dennison to join the army, she was standing on the platform at
the depot to see me off. She promised to write and told me that when I returned,
we’d be married.” He swallowed and let out a sad sigh. “But her letters stopped
abruptly, and when I came home, she wasn’t here. I looked for her for months,
eventually I came to the realization that she didn’t love me. It was the only
explanation I had.”
Debbie’s heart broke for Mr. Zink, her own grief and pain still fresh from losing
her fiancé when he died in Afghanistan as a special forces officer. Would the pain
remain with her as long as it had with Mr. Zink? The realization felt weighty and
suffocating.
“Debbie?” Mr. Zink asked.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for this. I can’t wait to hear Eleanor’s sweet voice singing again.
If only I could find her. Although, if she’s still alive, she may very well not want to
hear from me. Even so, I’ve always wondered where she went and how she
made out. It would do my heart good to know she was happy.”
Debbie knew in that moment what she needed to do, and she smiled.
Though she had a house to remodel and a restaurant to open, she determined
then and there to do whatever she could to find out whatever happened to Ray’s
beloved Eleanor.
“I’d love to help you find her, Mr. Zink. I’ll do whatever I can to
do just that.”
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