One Perfect Day

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Or maybe not,” Jenna said. She glanced in the bags. One more for each of them. She was almost afraid to open the last one. What was he up to?

  Heather pulled out a square box and ripped it open. An uncharacteristic squeal leaped from her. “Oh, Uncle Randy! A digital camera! To record my new life!” She opened the box, pulled out a camera, smaller than any Jenna had seen, and immediately began reading the instruction manual.

  “I think you scored an especially big hit, Randy,” she said, keeping her eyes on Heather. She picked up her last package. Not too big and not too small. It could be about anything. She slid the paper off and lifted the box lid to find a book nestled in the tissue. A one-word title on the cover, Dreams. She opened it to find a quote on each thick, rich page, plus room to write.

  “I think it is time you learned to dream again.”

  She laid her hand on an open page. “I’m not much of a writer”—and realizing how ungrateful it sounded—“I mean…”

  “Doesn’t take a lot of writing to jot down lists, maybe things you want to do or have… or be.”

  “She wants to go back to school and become a forensic something or other.”

  Jenna stared at her daughter. “I do?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Jenna thought a minute, then barely shook her head. “Guess I’ll have to think on that. I have thought of leaving the ER and working normal shifts without so much pressure. It all depends…”

  Heather moved her head around to work out the kinks, then caught another yawn. “This was a great New Year’s. Thanks, Uncle Randy. Well, fans, I’m going to bed. All this excitement has worn me out.” She kissed her mother’s cheek, gathered her cat and stood. “What are we doing tomorrow? Going to the pound to see about a dog?”

  “Heather, I didn’t mean so soon. I said one of these days.”

  “You said that about a house too.” She walked around the coffee table, dropped a kiss on Randy’s cheek and stage-whispered, “Talk her into both.” She headed down the hall to her room.

  Jenna shook her head, at the same time running her tongue over her front teeth. When Randy grinned at her, she felt the now-familiar warmth in her middle.

  “She’s growing up awfully fast, making up for lost time,” he said.

  “I heard that,” her daughter’s voice floated from the hall. “Why don’t you just kiss her good night and leave, so she can get her beauty sleep?”

  Jenna trapped her giggles with a hand over her mouth even as her face heated. What would her daughter do next? Or more important perhaps, what would Randy do?

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Nora

  Do you have any ideas what you’d like to do for your birthday?”

  Christi shook her head, her dark hair veiling her face. She pushed the food around on her plate with her fork.

  Nora sent a pleading look to her husband, who shrugged before taking a deep breath.

  “I was thinking of taking you out to choose a car.”

  Christi’s head snapped up, delight immediately tamped down with her prevailing sarcasm. “But Mom will have a fit.”

  “Surely, you can’t mean that, Gordon. Why, what if—” His narrowed-eye look cut the flow of Nora’s words.

  “See, I told you.” Christi slapped her napkin down on the table as she pushed her chair back. “I can’t do anything without her worrying and nagging.”

  “Christi, this caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

  Nora’s critical, silent voice snapped, “Liar. You no more want her to have a car than you want to fly.”

  Of course I don’t want her to have a car. What if something happens to her, like it did Charlie?

  As soon as Christi was out of earshot, she turned on her husband. “How could you do that without talking it over with me first?”

  “Look, Nora, you asked me to help. I can’t talk with you because you don’t want to talk. I’ve been thinking on this for some time. Christi needs to know we believe in her.”

  “But a car of her own? Why, she never even asks to drive my car.”

  “Would you let her? She drives with me.”

  Nora felt like pounding her fists on the clear glass wall that seemed to divide her from the members of her family. “You’ve been letting her drive?”

  “Of course. She needs the practice.” Gordon pushed his plate back and crossed his arms on the table. “Nora, you can’t…” He paused and started again. “We can’t wrap her in cotton and keep her from growing up because of what happened to Charlie.”

  “But she never wanted to drive.”

  “Because we made it too easy for her not to.”

  “Gordon, I can’t handle her having a car of her own.” Nora dredged the acknowledgment from somewhere deep where her fears festered. Her hands felt like she’d been soaking them in ice water.

  “This isn’t about you, this is about our daughter and getting on with living.” Gordon’s voice was gentle, but with the firmness the children called the “end of discussion” voice.

  Nora kept herself in the chair, when all she wanted to do was throw herself across her bed and wail—fists pounding on a wall might help too. Or pounding them on Gordon. How dare he? All these years they’d agreed to talk things over, to make decisions together regarding their children. And mostly they had. Even when he was traveling, she consulted him before agreeing to anything major one of the kids had wanted.

  “Are you so ready to forget about Charlie?” She knew that was an unfair question as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

  Gordon shook his head and sighed, a heavy sigh that took all the steel out of his shoulders. He pushed back his chair, gathered his dinner things together, and walked over to place them in the sink. Propping his hands on the counter, he leaned on them for a moment, then turned. “It’s your choice, you can come with us if you want and make this a family event, or you can cause more hard feelings by staying home. You decide. I thought perhaps we could go out to dinner afterward.”

  Nora’s eyes burned and her throat felt like it might be swelling shut. Heavy, the air felt so heavy and thick she could hardly suck it in. She raised her head and stared across the room at him. No matter what I do, it won’t be right. “I’ll go.” But if something happens to her, I swear I’ll never be able to forgive you.

  Sleepless hours never did much for one’s attitude, besides giving fears a chance to grow more hideous through the dark hours. She finally got up, not that her tossing and turning had disturbed Gordon. With Betsy padding at her side, she made her way to the kitchen and a cup of herb tea. She propped her straightened arms on the counter and stared into the marble slab, searching for some kind of answers to the questions ricocheting through her brain like the balls in a pinball machine: buy a car, not buy a car, go along, stay home, throw a fit, go to the guillotine quietly. When the teapot whistled, she took down a box and then chose a tea bag as if it were a life-changing decision. She dunked it in the mug she’d filled with steaming water. Letting it steep, she dug out the honey and drizzled sufficient into the water, then tossed the soaked tea bag in the under-the-sink garbage. Each movement wore a mantle of lead that threatened to send her to the floor.

  With her mug in hand, she crossed the room to the padded seat in the bay window and sat, knees bent and slippered feet flat on the upholstery. “… Moon on the breast of the new fallen snow…” The old line fit as she stared at the black shadows cast by naked birch trees, stark on the pristine white. Tonight would be perfect for skiing. On many nights like this, the four of them, usually Charlie in the lead, had headed around the lake. Once, they’d seen a silver fox, often snowy rabbits and, one year, a snow-white owl, all the denizens of the night.

  Of all the family, only Charlie loved cross-country skiing more than she did. Gordon would rather find mountains and schuss with amazing speed and dexterity. Christi followed her father, but only because she coveted the time with him. “Charlie, if only we could go out tonight and I could laugh with you
one more time, hear you shout, ‘Come on, Mom.’ ” She rested her cheek on her knees and soaked her sweats with tears. Betsy whimpered and nosed Nora’s elbow, then put both front feet on the bench and nuzzled her ear.

  “Will the tears never go away? How can there always be more, waiting to leak out?” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sipped at the cooling tea. Betsy whimpered, then jumped up on the window seat, insinuated herself under Nora’s arm and leaned against her.

  At some point, she lay down on the sofa and pulled a thick fleece throw over her. With Betsy stretched out beside her, she finally fell asleep again. Gordon’s kiss on her forehead woke her.

  “Bye. I’m dropping Christi off. I’ll pick her up at school and come by here to get you.”

  Nora shook her head. Come by for what? Oh, the dreaded car-buying venture. “Okay.” But I don’t want to go.

  “I know you don’t want to do this, but it will mean a lot to Christi.”

  There he went, reading her mind. Was she so obvious?

  “Bye, Mom.”

  She heard the door slam behind them and Betsy padded back to sit and stare at her. “They didn’t let you out?” A barely audible whimper. Nora sighed and threw back the blanket. Probably a good thing she had Betsy to take care of, or she most likely would sleep all day, every day. The ringing phone made her shake her head. Or not. For sure it was Susan beginning her daily nag fest. One day, she figured, she’d probably appreciate this friend who never let go, but not right now…. She heaved herself to her feet and snagged the phone off the wall on her way to the door to let the dancing dog out to do her business. Yellow circles in the perfect blanket of white.

  “Hello.”

  “You could put a little cheer in your voice, you know.”

  “I’m fresh out of cheer. Today we are going to buy Christi a car. Gordon’s decision, in case you didn’t know.”

  “I thought she didn’t want a car.”

  “Some things change. Charlie isn’t here to drive her everywhere and she doesn’t like me being the taxi driver. In case you haven’t figured it out, she doesn’t like even being in the same room with me. I know she would rather I stayed home, and so would I, but Gordon insists we do this for her birthday. Buy a car, have dinner out….” Her voice broke on the rant.

  “And you’re scared to death.”

  Nora sniffed. “That’s about right.” She responded to the woof at the kitchen door; then, with the phone clamped between shoulder and cheek, she opened the plastic container of dog food and scooped the requisite amount into the dog’s dish. She used the jug of water they kept on the shelf for this purpose, poured about a cupful into the dog dish and set it on the rug on the floor, where Betsy waited with wagging tail and bright eyes.

  “Can I entice you out on the trails?”

  “Too cold.”

  “Come on, it’s only zero.”

  “Too cold, too windy, too bright, just too.” Nora set the dials on the coffeemaker and waited while it ground the beans and finally filled the mug she’d set under the spigot. Inhaling fresh coffee used to work, but now the caffeine fix had to be drunk to work. “I couldn’t sleep again last night. If I dreamed one car crash, I dreamed ten.”

  “Sorry. When fear gets you, the only thing to do is tell Satan to butt out and take his friends with him. Screaming it at him feels mighty good. You surely know it’s not from God.”

  “Yeah, that would have been a great way to wake up the neighborhood, let alone Gordon and Christi.”

  “I remember you told me that the best way to kill off nightmares was to pray, sing verses or picture Jesus.”

  “That was before.” Nothing works now. “Have you tried it?” There it was again, that nagging little voice that she could well do without.

  “Have you tried it?” This time her friend asked the question aloud, but softly.

  Nora let the silence stretch. Her throat started the familiar burning, along with her eyes. She sniffed and rolled her gaze at the ceiling. Sometimes that helped stem the tears. She could hear Susan sniff too. “I—I can’t find Him.” She seized a tissue from the box. “Now, look what you made me do.”

  “Nora, He hasn’t moved. Jesus is waiting for you with His arms outstretched. He said He’d never leave you nor forsake you.”

  “Sure feels like it. Seems to me He left and took Charlie with Him.”

  “How long since you looked for the promises in your Bible?”

  Nora blew her nose and huffed out a sigh. “Look, if you’re going to preach, I’ll hang up right now and save you the effort.”

  “Sorry. I’m backing off. Okay, since no skiing, I’ll be over in fifteen minutes and we’ll go walk the mall.”

  “Then Betsy can’t come.”

  “Nora, you can’t have it all. Dog means walk or ski. Too cold means mall or fitness club. See you.” She hung up.

  “As if I ever asked for it all.” Nora hung the phone up. Bone-deep weariness, her constant companion, whispered enticements. Lock the doors, shut off the phones, climb the stairs, and sink into oblivion. After all, she hadn’t slept much at all during the night—no wonder she was so tired. She sucked in a deep breath and ordered herself to eat something so the coffee wouldn’t burn her stomach alive. Opening the refrigerator door, she stared into the interior. Cheese? She shook her head. Bacon and eggs? Another head shake. Betsy appeared at her side and looked up at her hopefully, then joined her in staring into the cavern. Nora sorted through some containers and found a carton of yogurt. Mixing it with granola for crunch, she wandered over to the bay window. A line of deer tracks embroidered the slope. Gordon had filled the feeder, so a mixed flock of birds flitted and fluttered. The chickadees and sparrows picked their seeds off the snow, while a blue jay and a pair of crows fought over the feeder. A nuthatch hung upside down on the suet holder. Finishing her yogurt, she held the carton down for Betsy to get her licks in and then threw it in the trash. Susan would be at the door any minute and she was still in her rapidly aging sleeping sweats.

  After we walk, we’re going to attack the baskets of sympathy cards.”

  “Who made you king?” Nora slammed the passenger door and buckled her seat belt.

  “Just doing my best to be the kind of friend I know I’d need in your circumstances.”

  Nora swallowed. “Thanks. But remember, I do better with un-nice people.”

  “Fine, then. We skip the mall and go straight to the track at Family Fitness. I hope you brought your speed-walking shoes.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Too bad.”

  An hour later, both of them fighting for breath, they slumped on a bench in the women’s locker room.

  “I think you’re trying to kill me.” Nora reached down and retied her shoe. Even her toes hurt.

  “We do the same thing for a week or two and we’ll be getting back into shape. This is awful.” Susan rubbed her side and stretched her neck from one shoulder to the other. “You want to do weights?”

  “Do you want a black eye?” Nora glanced at her watch. “You want an early lunch?”

  “Nope, we’re doing cards. There’s still plenty of food at your house.”

  Nora groaned, yet felt one corner of her mouth pull up. “Sadist.”

  As she had dreaded, the tears seemed nonstop as she read the loving messages in the cards. The stack of checks grew as they opened the envelopes. “Any suggestions on what to do for a memorial?”

  “Did you ask Christi?”

  “No, nor Gordon. They’ve been avoiding these baskets like I have and would continue to do so, if it weren’t for my pushy friend.”

  “Well, see how I’m helping you? Now you won’t have guilt eating at you too.” Susan opened another envelope, this one with lots of signatures. “This is from some of Charlie’s friends. They donated a hundred dollars to the natural-science lab at the high school in Charlie’s name.”

  Nora took the card and turned it around as she read all the names. Some she knew, many she didn’t.
“How do we write one card to thank them all?” She blew her nose and wiped her eyes at the notes.

  “Put a thank-you in the school newspaper?”

  “Good idea.” She set the card up so that Gordon and Christi would see it. The other cards they returned to the basket.

  “I’ll bet Christi could do a wonderful scrapbook with all these cards and letters. Maybe not now, but someday.”

  Nora finished addressing a thank-you card and set it in the “to be stamped” pile. “Have we even made a dent?”

  “I think we’ve opened and sorted most of them. Those are the ones that need answering.”

  Nora got up and set the coffeemaker for two. “I’ll ask Gordon and Christi to help with the rest. Starting has been the hardest part.” She glanced over her shoulder at Susan and squinted her eyes in mock reluctance. “And much as I hate to admit it, you were right. This was one of those things weighing on me. My mother drilled into my growing-up head that gifts were to be acknowledged within a week—the sooner, the better.” She glanced at the calendar. Coming three weeks since Charlie died. It seemed more like months, and like it happened two days ago. Pouring the coffee gave her an excuse to wipe her eyes.

  After Susan left, without looking at the clock, Nora gave in to the craving for a nap. She set a timer for fifteen minutes and it was still going off when Gordon shook her.

  “You’re supposed to be ready to go with us.”

  Nora blinked, trying to figure out if this was night or day. “Go where?” The memory rushed over her. “Oh, to buy…” She threw back the covers. She needed a shower, to wash her hair, get fixed up. Half an hour to an hour. She could hear Christi, and the banging around said she was already in a foul mood.

  Flopping back on the bed, Nora shook her head. “You go on without me. She’ll like that better anyway.”

  “Nora, you can’t sleep the rest of your life away.”

  “Sleep my life away? Did you see those piles of answered sympathy cards on the counter? All the cards sorted. You think they did that themselves?” She could hear the anger in her voice and clamped a lid on it. And here she’d been busy all day except for… she glanced at the clock. She’d slept for an hour.