WE GATHER TOGETHER by Edward L. Woodyard

We Gather Together Chapter One Hundred Four

Scott McCulloch knew he was speeding, going over ninety in a seventy zone. He was so anxious to get home in time that he had let emotion overtake logic. Maya had seen the speedometer but thought that it wasn't her place to say anything. He wasn't being as erratic or confrontational as he'd been three days earlier in Nevada. His driving was confident and assured – and the Bimmer was easily handling the increase in velocity.

Scott came up over a rise in the interstate just west of Bloomsburg when he saw the state trooper aim his radar gun at him. Maya was shocked that the traffic app on her cell phone hadn't warned them that a state patrol car was ahead. A bad signal there could've been why the state trooper was parked where he was.

In his rearview mirror, Scott saw the state trooper enter the highway from the median and then red and blue lights flash on his patrol car roof. He pulled the Bimmer onto the shoulder and waited for the trooper to approach and ask for his license and registration.

The trooper was tall, imposing and straightforward. He also noticed how nicely Scott and Maya were dressed, Scott in a blue button-down shirt and khakis, and Maya in an ivory-colored sweater dress.

"Happy Thanksgiving. Headed somewhere for the holiday?"

"New York." He knew just to answer the questions he'd been asked.

As Scott extracted his license from his wallet, Maya reached into the glove compartment to find the registration slip behind the CDs.

"Thank you. California, huh? This shouldn't take too long," the trooper continued.

To the contrary, 'too long' did become too long.

Scott and Maya sat on the shoulder of the interstate for forty-five minutes, as hundreds of vehicles rushing to their destinations whooshed past them, sometimes jostling the car. He knew now that they would be late to sing the hymn and that they'd get there when they could.

But still, he thought, to be there when everyone sang the hymn would be just like it was growing up. He didn't want to miss that. He thought about calling or texting his mother, but then he didn't want to alert her or to worry her. He also thought that he could have a change of heart and decide to back out at the last moment. He still didn't know what it would be like to see his father again.

The trooper returned Scott's license and registration, told Scott everything was in order, and issued him a summons either to appear in town court in Bloomsburg or to send in his fine. He also suggested that Maya drive for a while, at least until they got to New Jersey.

As the trooper walked back to his patrol car, Scott and Maya switched places in the Bimmer. When he passed them as he returned to his patrol duties, the trooper waved to them while they were buckling their seat belts.

Scott remembered his first speeding ticket when he was sixteen. He had just got both his driver's license and his Corvette when he was pulled over on an interstate near his home for going seventy-five in a sixty zone and was summoned to a local traffic court. Scott had wanted to wear jeans and a polo shirt for his court appearance, but his father had insisted that he wear a jacket and tie, saying he would be wearing a jacket and tie too. "It's not Thanksgiving" was Scott's response. To which Sam McCulloch retorted, "No. It's standing in front of a judge and requesting leniency, you turkey."

Sam explained how a jacket and tie would demonstrate his respect for the law, the system and the judge. He told Scott that he didn't want penalty points added to his driver's license or to have his insurance rates increased.

When the judge saw that Scott was the only teenager in the courtroom dressed correctly, Sam knew that the judge wanted to give Scott a break.

"You are in high school?"

"Yes, sir. A sophomore."

"And you play sports?"

"Yes, sir. Hockey, baseball, football."

"And you get good grades?"

"Yes, sir. I think so."

"On the honor roll?"

"No, sir. On the high honor roll."

Hearing that, the judge fined Scott for a non-moving violation that would neither add points to his license nor increase his insurance rates: parking on a highway. It was a $100 fine which came out of Scott's after-school-job wages at a local ski shop.

As Maya accelerated from the shoulder onto I-80, Scott shoved his summons for speeding into the glove compartment. He knew he had no choice but to pay the $300 fine since he wasn't going to return to Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania to fight it. He also knew his being on the high honor roll in high school wouldn't help this time. He considered playing a CD from the glove compartment but instead laid his head on his bomber jacket bunched against the passenger window, wanting to take a nap.

As he closed his eyes, he recollected when he and his father had left traffic court. Sam didn't have to say anything to him. Scott had learned a valuable lesson. However, he hated to admit that his father could be right – and that his father always had Scott's best interest at heart.

But Scott had already known that about his father, when Sam never left his side for the three days after his skiing accident in Vermont the previous year.

But that was then. Scott knew that he really had hurt his father when he left home eight years ago – and all because he was drunk and saw no reason to wear a tie.

Scott now wasn't sure if he actually wanted to go home for Thanksgiving. He would keep these feelings to himself and not share them with Maya. The two of them would still head in that direction and he could always change his mind.

He would decide at the last moment if he really could go home again. He could only know that when he walked up the porch stairs and put his hand on the front door knob.

Would there be any forgiveness? Would it matter?

He then realized that it wasn't any longer about his father and him. Remembering what he had told Kevin the hitchhiker, he decided to follow his own advice. What happened had happened – and there was nothing Scott could do about that.

However, Scott could do something for his mother. He could stop being so selfish and go home for her sake. She had never faltered in her love for him. He would do it for her, if for no one else.

He needed to be there in time to sing the hymn.