by Lyn Cote
“Thanks.” She bent her chin forward, no doubt extending her neck muscles. “I heard it’s supposed to be a little warmer tomorrow. Perhaps they’ll hold school, just not provide bus service.” She leaned her head from side to side, creating a tide of long hair flowing over one shoulder and then another. “The district’s already stacked up a week of days they’ll have to make up in the spring. If this keeps up, the kids will be in school for the Fourth of July.”
Her movements mesmerized him. He closed his eyes, leaning against the nearby doorjamb.
“I wish we could come up with a place for the shelter animals.” She shrugged.
“Me, too. We need running water to be legal.”
She clicked off the desk computer and headed toward the rear exit. Bummer trotted hopefully behind her. Jake heard her apologize. “Sorry, Bummer, I can’t take you with me tonight.”
If Jake could, he’d follow her home, too. Nonetheless, he restrained himself, remaining in the front of the clinic till he heard Amy call, “Bye! See you tomorrow!” Then she closed the door.
Abruptly lonely, he proceeded through the office on his way to the rear exit, switching off the lights, making sure the digital thermostat was working right so his pipes wouldn’t freeze and then preparing to venture out into the relatively balmy minus twenty degrees. Why couldn’t he stick to the line he’d drawn between his life and Amy’s?
Through the early winter darkness, he drove home. Thoughts of Amy, the Dew Drop Inn, and the animal shelter’s woes enacted a mob scene in his mind. And regrettably, each moment brought him nearer to the place he now didn’t like to be much anymore: home. Dreading home was neither pleasant nor accurate. What he dreaded was another scrape with his father, not home. On the road in front of his house, he stopped and got the mail out of the roadside box. Frozen-board-stiff mail. Now that was cold.
On the way from parking the pickup in the garage to his back door, Jake sorted the mail. One letter for his dad nearly stopped him in his tracks in the snow. The return address was the billing department of UW Hospital. Was it from one of his friends—or had his father been a patient? What would his dad have had done at the hospital? Bummer woofed as if asking why Jake was keeping them out in the cold. Puzzled, inside he unwrapped all his layers, then he walked into the kitchen that smelled of roast beef. Bummer greeted everyone and then walked over to his water dish and dry food bowl. Jake set the mail on the counter where he always did, laying his dad’s letter on top.
“Glad you got home on time,” Mike said from the sink, where he was peeling a cucumber. “I’m just finishing up the salad. I cooked beef stew. Just felt like a beef stew kinda day.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Jake ducked into the small bathroom off the kitchen and washed his hands. Then he sat at his place at the rectangular table. He inhaled, trying to loosen the strain he couldn’t shake.
As his dad entered, Bummer passed him going to the warm hearth in the living room. “How was your day?” He sounded distinctly disgruntled.
Sensitive to the undercurrents, Jake considered his words before he spoke. “Lots of cancellations due to weather.”
Dan humphed. “I’m starting to get cabin fever. What do you people do in the winter here?”
Jake wondered if his dad realized how revealing this statement was. After Jake had graduated from high school, his dad had never spent more than the few days around Christmas here. The thought that his dad must really not like being home—with his son—burrowed in like a burr in his sock.
“We manage to keep ourselves entertained,” Mike said. “I have a few friends coming over to my place for pinochle tonight. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Should your friends be driving in this cold?” Jake asked.
“You worry about us like we’re your kids or something.” Mike set the salad bowl on the table. “Mitch’s picking everybody up in his van. He’s got a heated attached garage, so he’ll just get in his van, drive around to pick up everybody and then park in my garage. He’s even got one of those automatic starters. So he just pushes a button. When he leaves, the van’s already warmed up.” Mike sent him a “So-there!” look.
Jake raised both hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay.”
Mike set a large pot of stew in the center of the table with a soup ladle in it and sat down. Jake bowed his head while Mike asked the blessing.
Mike began ladling out the stew. “I heard about what happened to Amy and her girls. Ginnie called me.”
“What’s this?” Dan asked, appearing both suspicious and annoyed.
“Her pipes froze last night, so she had to move into a motel,” Jake said.
His father grunted. “She should have known better than to turn her heat down too low. What can you expect from people like her?”
Jake ignited white hot. Waves of angry heat billowed from him.
“That’s nonsense,” Mike snapped. “Her furnace is as old as the hills and the pilot light went out. It’s not her fault.”
Jake seethed in silence but sensed that Mike could best handle this. I don’t want an out-and-out fight with my dad.
“I stand corrected,” Dan said, somehow managing to sound as if that were a near impossibility.
“Did you hear that the same thing happened to the animal shelter?” Jake asked, trying to divert attention from Amy.
“No,” Mike said. “What are they going to do with the animals?”
“What happened?” Dan asked. “Did their furnace go out, too?”
“No, some volunteer turned the heat down before she left.”
His father looked concerned.
Avoiding further conversation, the three of them dug into the flavorful beef stew, hot yeast rolls and salad. After the meal, Jake told Mike to go on home, he’d wash the dishes.
As soon as the door shut behind Mike, Dan came to the sink. “I’ll dry.”
Jake longed to refuse his help but of course couldn’t. “Okay.”
They worked in silence for a time.
“You got a letter from the Madison University Hospital.” Jake gestured toward the letter on the counter by the door. And waited to hear what the letter was about.
“Oh, thanks.” His father glanced at the envelope. “I had a checkup while I was there. This must be the results of a few routine lab tests.”
Jake found that odd. His dad, the typical doctor, had no time for yearly checkups and such. “Oh,” Jake finally said. They went on working side by side. Jake thought his dad looked odd, as if something was bothering him.
Then Dan cleared his throat. “I see how you look at her.”
Jake knew who his father was speaking about but needed to make him say her name. “Who?”
“That single mom.”
His dad’s refusing to say Amy’s name annoyed him. “You mean Amy?” Jake asked, shimmering with belligerence.
“Yes. Don’t make the mistake of trying to be the prince to her Cinderella.”
Jake chewed this insult and tried to swallow it. Was his dad provoking a fight so he could distance himself further from Jake?
“I’m not in the position to sweep anybody off her feet,” Jake said. “And I don’t carry a glass slipper around in my pocket.” Did his dad have enough sense to drop this?
“She’s a nice enough girl,” Dan said. “She’s just not in our league.”
Jake resisted replying, What league would that be? Yet now goaded past restraint, he switched to the offensive. “As I recall, you really liked Sheila, who evidently was in our league. We all know how that turned out.”
“Sheila was a good wife, just not a good wife for you.”
“She remarried two weeks after we divorced, a surgeon in Minneapolis. I think that might lead one to think she had already been shopping for my replacement before we filed for divorce.” Jake flamed. “But no doubt, she is a good wife for someone.” Acid spewed up into his throat.
“I didn’t realize that.” His father’s eyes had widened.
&nb
sp; Jake scrubbed a dish viciously. “It’s not something I’d spread around.” And you weren’t even in the state when the divorce was proceeding, so how would you know?
“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”
Jake knew exactly what his dad meant. Still he didn’t answer. No, I haven’t forgiven you. He began scrubbing the tines of a fork.
Side by side in absolute silence, father and son finished the dishwashing and drying. “I’ll be reading upstairs if you need me,” Dan said, turning away.
“I’ll be in the basement,” Jake responded. Bummer appeared. He turned off the kitchen light and descended into the chilly basement with Bummer at his side. He switched on the electric space heater beside his desk, then sat, digging out the grant application and studying it. The grant would bring him the funds to turn his acreage into something good for many kids—if he ever had time to fill out the long application plus write up the rest of the proposal. Bummer rested his chin on Jake’s knee. Jake began petting his head out of habit. His dream of transforming the McClure homestead into a place that would honor his mother and his brother’s memory needed time. And I don’t have time.
He bent his head, feeling the sudden impulse to pray more than grace or a fleeting phrase, something he didn’t do often. “God, I need help. I feel so…blocked. Amy is special and I can’t help her. The shelter is on the brink of disaster. Where can the animals stay till spring?” He rubbed his forehead with the flat of his hand, hard. “God, what am I doing wrong?”
Groggy from a restless night, Jake entered the kitchen the next morning. Bummer woofed his “Good morning.” Mike was busy at the stove, flipping pancakes. His father sat at the table, sipping coffee.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Mike greeted Jake. “How many cakes you want?”
“Two should do it.” Jake poured his coffee and took his place. The near argument with his dad at the sink the previous night caused Jake some uneasiness. Could he—they—set a more positive tone today?
Within minutes, Mike set a plate stacked with pancakes on the table alongside a pitcher of pure Wisconsin maple syrup and a platter of eggs and bacon.
“Did anyone ever mention the concept of cholesterol to you, Mike?” Dan asked, staring at the breakfast.
“Yeah, I heard of it. My whole life I have been eating eggs and bacon or sausage for breakfast. And may I remind you I will be eighty-eight this summer?” Mike smirked. “And my triglycerides are to die for.”
Dan shook his head. Mike offered the blessing and Jake snagged his first pancake.
“I got a good idea,” Mike announced.
Jake and Dan both turned toward him.
“I’m going to move upstairs into your guest room,” Mike said, lifting his coffee mug, “and give Amy and her girls my place till she moves into her new house in the spring.”
Jake stopped chewing. He swallowed in a hurry. “That’s a great idea.”
His father’s face twisted. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“Why isn’t it wise?” Mike snapped. “I don’t know why you don’t like Amy. She’s a wonderful young woman and a great mom to those girls. You know those twins aren’t hers? They belong to her sister who disappeared when they were just newborns.”
Dan set down his coffee mug. “I didn’t know that.”
Jake sneered inside. And then disliked himself for it. How many times had he jumped to wrong conclusions? I’m not perfect. This admission eased some of the knot inside him.
“And,” Mike continued, “what if the twins were hers? Do you think women go around thinking, ‘Oh, I hope I’ll have a baby and have to raise it all by myself?’ In my day, the father and brothers would have coerced a marriage and lots of those were miseries. Or the girl would have been sent off ‘to visit an aunt’ and the baby would have ended up an orphan, raised as an inconvenience to a cousin or something. Nowadays the girl keeps the baby and does her best. It’s not the best way, but it’s life.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Dan hastened to apologize.
Mike was glaring now, his face turning red. “Amy’s all alone in the world, no family. Everything she’s got she’s worked hard for. And I plan to help her.” Mike jerked his head in a decided nod.
“Me, too,” Jake murmured from behind his coffee cup.
“I’ll help her move in, okay?” Dan inhaled a deep breath. “I’m very sorry for my attitude about Amy.”
Jake’s mouth opened. His dad didn’t do apologies much.
“Okay.” Mike relaxed in his chair. “She deserves better than she’s had. Ginnie will help me persuade her to take my place. Amy’s so independent that she’ll probably refuse.”
The truth of this statement smacked Jake. Getting Amy to accept this offer was far from a done deal. And then he got the big idea. He tamped down the excited look on his face. He wanted to run this big idea by Mike first.
Breakfast finally ended. Jake didn’t want to share his idea in front of Dan. But his dad sat at the table, sipping coffee and reading USA Today, which he’d picked up in town yesterday. Jake spent a few moments in indecision. He decided to go ahead and tell Mike. His dad wouldn’t like what he wanted to do, but too bad. “Are you busy this morning, Mike?”
“Just going to make a loaf of bread in my handy-dandy bread maker.”
“I’m due at the clinic in a half hour. But first I want to go out and take a look at the barn. And I want you with me.”
“Why?” Mike asked, shutting off the water and drying his hands.
“I want to see if we can use it as a temporary animal shelter.” Jake watched for his dad’s reaction.
Predictably Dan shook his head and sighed.
Jake forged on. “Do you think it’s possible?”
Mike was already heading toward the back hall. “Let’s get dressed and go look it over.”
Within minutes, Jake and Mike, with Bummer at their heels, entered the barn through a side door and flicked on the lights. The barn was used mostly for the storage of old farm equipment Jake hadn’t wanted to part with. He still remembered a time when he’d ridden the tractor with his grandfather.
“Well, we have water pipes to the barn from when we had dairy cattle,” Mike commented, scanning the interior. “And as I recall, it was a nice cozy place with cattle inside.”
“And we drained those pipes so we can just turn the water back on—”
“First we’d have to get some of the stuff out and fire up the heaters.”
“In a winter like this, it will cost a fortune to heat this place,” Dan said, coming through the door and shutting it behind him.
“You’re always such a team player,” Mike remarked, wrinkling his nose. “The animals don’t need it toasty warm. And—” he pointed upward “—if we hauled in some bats of insulation and rolled them out on the floor of the loft, it would hold the heat in better.”
“What about heat loss through the side walls?” Dan asked.
Jake decided to let Mike handle his dad. His grandfather had left Jake the land, not his father, because he knew that Dan would sell it, not keep it in the family. So Jake would make this decision. What I decide is what will happen.
“The original stone foundation extends to the top of the stalls. We can just get some of that non-fiberglass insulation and set it on the stone sill inside to block any drafts.” Mike pointed first to one and then the other end of the barn. “We have barn heaters, which run on propane, and we have a separate propane tank for the barn.”
Dan looked grumpy but said no more.
Jake decided to reenter the discussion. “We’ll need to have someone inspect the plumbing so we know there’s no problems—tree roots and such. Then we need to have the propane company come out and check our tank and see if it’s okay, fill it. If we get those two things done, we can ask volunteers to come and help us make room in the barn and move the animal cages here.”
“Sounds right.” Mike turned. “Jake, you got to go to work. I’ll go make the calls
and get the ball rolling.”
“Just like that?” Dan asked.
“Just like that,” Mike replied. “If Annie’s found some other place, no problem. If not, we’ll just move ahead. And I’m going to get Ginnie to help me talk to Amy about my house. Looks like I’ll have to get my fixings into the bread maker fast and get on the phone.”
“Jake, you realize that if you do this,” Dan said in an I know more than you do tone, “you’ll never get rid of the animals.”
“Maybe I don’t want to get rid of them,” Jake said, suddenly buzzing with anger. “In fact, my dream is to have this barn filled with animals and kids…like Tommy.”
At the mention of his late son who had suffered from Down syndrome, Jake’s father turned and left the barn. Mike and Jake stood in place, Jake still seething with his unexpected flush of anger.
Mike shook his head. “You two have spent too many years not talking about what happened to your mom and brother. Jake, even if your dad had been here, he couldn’t have changed anything. Accidents happen. You’re not mad at your dad about the accident. You’re mad at him for something else. Figure it out.” Mike walked out—leaving Jake alone and bewildered by what he had just said.
Around three in the afternoon, Amy pondered the empty waiting room at the clinic. An emergency call hurried Jake out early and Sandy had a dental appointment to keep. The afternoon appointments had petered out.
Today the unusually harsh cold had given way to this winter’s “usual” cold, but people still didn’t like to be out in the bitter early darkness of afternoon. As soon as the sun started going down after four, everyone planned to be at home if possible. She didn’t blame them. I wish I had a home to go to.
Amy brushed this aside, wondering if Mike had been able to get the barn’s plumbing and heating situation checked out. Jake had filled them all in on his plans for a temporary shelter. She hoped everything would work out. As for her, she and the girls were cramped but safe and warm at the Dew Drop Inn. On the way there tonight, Amy planned to pick up a few groceries that would work in her restricted kitchen: a dorm fridge, a hot plate, a coffeemaker and a microwave. The twins were back in school and within the hour, she would pick them up.